author's note: i've been working on this since like august of last year, and i'm really excited to actually start writing for it. i hope you all enjoy!
synopsis: michael decides to go to “club moulin rouge” for a night out after a long day’s work. there, he falls under the temptation of a stage persona “karma” and he’s not willing to let her go.
❝ KARMA ❞ ― contains: smut dom!michael ( sexual ﹠ non sexual) cussing slight?angst midnightballerina / entertainer!reader readers stage name is "karma" (michael spends lots of money on reader) spoiledbrat!reader modern!au ﹐ etc․
Being young, free, in your early twenties, and just starting your modeling career made you do stupid things. Especially now that your past was coming back to bite you in the ass, and now it was everywhere and people were talking, like really talking. Every newspaper featured your story on the cover, and everyone was tuning in to see the latest scoop about your life, which had become a complete mess.
Your stomach twisted with anxiety that almost made you dizzy as you bit onto your nail nervously. The once pretty polish that sat perfectly manicured onto your finger was now chipped from how long you sat nibbling at it. Suddenly the thought of Michael walking through that door made you anxious. You knew he would be angry, especially with the fact that you never mentioned it, and if it weren't for whoever dug that up, you would've been in the clear, but you should've known. God, it had been so long since that shoot you nearly forgot about it, well, until you got that harsh reminder.
"Pissed" wasn't even the word.
In fact, he was beyond that; he was furious. He was furious at the fact that you wouldn't tell him about something like this, furious at the fact that now the world had seen your naked body.
He sat quietly in the back of the car, arms folded to his chest as his hand grasped the paper, gripping so hard that his fingers began to hurt, and his heart raced as he took a deep breath to get his feelings in check. He didn't want to yell at you. Truth be told, he didn't even want to argue about this, but thinking of you keeping this a secret and now everyone seen it made his blood boil as his fist clenched onto that paper with pure anger.
The sound of the front door snapped you out of your daze. Your teeth stopped nibbling on your manicured nails, and your stomach did at least three more flips and not in a good way, and your palms seemed to constantly sweat from the uneasiness that settled in your body as you nervously bounced your leg. It felt as though the bedroom was too hot; despite hearing the AC running throughout the house, it never seemed to cool the room.
His shoes clicked against the smooth marble of the floor as he made his way towards the stairs. It was the calmness in his steps that made everything seem more eerie because deep down you knew he was angry. Michael was never one to raise his voice when he got upset. Instead, his anger seemed to show more through the calmness in his voice, the way his tone carried that hint of anger, or the way his facial expressions told it all.
The sound of the door creaking against the wooden frame as he pushed it open, revealing his large figure in the doorway.
“Michael—”
“What is this?” The thick stack of paper slapped against the floor as it slid closer to you, making your eyes snap in the direction of it.
“Look, I forgot about it; it was so long ago. I'm sorry, Mikey."
He wasn't necessarily upset at the fact that you had done the shoot; well, maybe he was, but more at the fact that it seemed like the whole world had seen it and now all eyes were on you.
“Do y’know how many people probably have this picture saved, lookin at every inch of your body?” he started, his tone completely fading from the soft tone and signature smile he usually used to a tone that was stern, like he was giving you a good talking to. "Are all the people now looking at me to do something, say anything about this? The filthy guys are probably drooling over this."
“I know, I know, my team is already working on releasing a statement. " You stood up in an attempt to soothe the situation, but Michael wasn't having it.
"Sit" That one word was enough to make your whole body go cold as you quietly obeyed, your eyes falling over his large frame, the way his fists were clenched in a tight ball, the way there was the slight movement of his jaw because he was pressing his teeth together so tightly.
“On the floor, on your knees."
You obeyed. I mean, what else were you supposed to do? You knew exactly what was coming and knew exactly what kind of treatment you’d be getting tonight. You watched as he loosened the belt that had been constricting him all day, finally unbuttoning his pants, the sound of the zipper echoing throughout the room as he tugged them down, finally taking a seat on the edge of the bed in front of you.
"You know what to do, right? Show me how sorry you are." His hand ran from the top of your head down to the soft skin of your jaw, tilting your head upwards to face him.
"Mhm, I know, Mikey. Let me show you I'm sorry," you cooed, finally taking the opportunity to let your hand run up and down his cock in a slow, almost soothing motion, earning a sigh that slipped past his lips before you pressed a kiss to his tip, your tongue slipping out to lick the slit that dripped with precum before letting your lips form that familiar “o” shape, taking as much length as possible, using your hand to stroke what you couldn't fit.
A groan trickled out from his throat as he let his fingers tangle in between your strands, letting his hand gently guide your head. The feeling of your mouth wrapped around him and the suction from your mouth paired with the way you swirled your tongue made his hips instinctively buck upwards, hitting that sweet spot in the back of your throat that created the lewd sound of gagging.
“That’s it, take it." His voice was stern, sending a cold shiver down your body as you let your head dip down again, the spit that pooled at the corners of your mouth dribbling down his length, making him toss his head back as you attempted to take him deeper, your hands stroking the rest, your eyes looking up at his facial expressions, fluttering lashes, and brows knitted tightly. That look when you're too far gone in bliss that the only thing you can think about is the intense feeling you're receiving.
“That’s enough." His words stopped you in your tracks, pulling away with a gentle pop.
He laid you down on your back, clothes scattered in a pile with his own, legs spread so that he could see that perfect core that sat untouched and leaking just for him, and despite the fact that millions of people had seen your bare body, he knew he was the only one who'd get to really feel you, feel your gummy walls flutter against him, and feel the warmth from your body; the thought of it made him groan as he gripped tightly onto your hips like it was the last thing he'd be able to feel, lining his tip with your entrance and sliding it in.
His pace didn't start off slow; it was brutal, anger leaking out in the form of his thrusts.
“Mikey, s-slow down, it's too much," you babble, your voice shaking from the sheer force of each thrust that made your tits bounce and your head fly back into the pillows as your teeth bit down on your bottom lip, a sting of pain shooting through it from how hard you were biting down.
“You got it, baby. Take this dick." He was breathless, heavy breathing mixed with the sound of skin slapping and sex filling the room as he leaned down, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck that contradicted the way he was thrusting into you. Your whines sounded like sweet music to his ears as the feeling of your walls sucking him in and the warmth made him moan against the damp skin of your neck.
"Fuck—I'm sorry," you cried out, feeling his tip repeatedly hitting that sweet spot as you let your fingernails dig into his back, earning a wince from Michael, but considering the circumstances he was under, he didn't really care; it only seemed to add to the intense feelings that were shooting through his body.
“I know, baby, it’s okay," he cooed, his thrusts becoming sloppier and a huge contrast from brutal, yet controlled thrusts, a telltale sign that he was on the verge of release, basking in the feeling of your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, your fingers that dug into his back, creating that familiar stinging sensation, and your sweet moans that rang out, falling onto what seemed like deaf ears.
"Gonna cum," you whined, back arching off the mattress, the thin layer of sweat that veiled over your body now mixed in with Michael's own as your body convulsed in waves of pure pleasure. His hips bucked into you as his mouth fell open, giving you another sloppy thrust.
"That's it, so good," he whispered, kissing your collarbone, the warmth from his breath only making your skin feel hotter and sticky, and for a moment, the room fell into this kind of rhythmic silence, light sounds of heavy breathing as you tried to collect yourself.
“Are you still mad at me?” you whispered through heavy breaths.
“I was never mad at you," he started, his fingers brushing the skin of your cheek. “I was more mad at the fact that so many people had seen it." His eyes darted away.
summary. michael has gotten fed up with your antics.
❛ mean!michael jackson 𝑥 𝒻 black woc!reader ❜ ╱ 𝓶.list 𓂋 mdni. you are beyond spoiled, bratty, & entitled. michael & his sugar baby. age gap. michael acknowledges his age. brat tamer?michael. michael grabs your jaw out of authority. both reader and michael refer to him as daddy (pls don't through rocks at me). no real smut but at the end michael makes you hump his shoe as punishment. ℘ 2.708k
𝓻𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐫𝐞⠀ ⠀𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝⠀!
michael is a patient man, an extremely patient one at that. withstanding more than the normal person from years of deliberate work into maintaining appearances. but he knew from the moment i saw you that you'd put him through the ringer. all pout and entitlement paired with big eyes and long lashes that you only have to bat a few times to get michael wrapped further around your finger like a snug ring.
you tested him like no other and pushed your luck far too many times that caused him to a nearly snap. and tonight? oh, tonight was a complete disaster. the two of you showed up late with clear tension, your hands that are usually photograph all snug under michael's side beneath his suit jacket are snug in your crossed arms, a clear rebellion on your part to show everyone that you are not happy to be here right now. while michael has a tight grip on your waist, partially so he can guide you around the event and partially so he can pinch at your waist to remind you to 'wipe that look of your face'. the photographers couldn't even get a proper photo of the couple because you just kept moving your face, using your hair to shield it from the clicks and lights from the camera. even ducking your head into the crook of michael's neck before you full maneuver your body so the photographers are only catching your backside in the photos, which only entices a stoic "behave" from him.
this behavior only carried on throughout the night. huffing and rolling your eyes at conversation, being disengaged and downright disrespectful michael thinks when you continuously cut him off. during a moment alone michael attempts to get you in check again, "you're acting like a child."
his only hope was that you'd realize this little act that you're putting is not to be tolerated, but all he got was a blank stare, "okay, and?" you replied with clear annoyance. the start of you walking away before michael's hold on your waist brings you back into his chest.
"wanna be a disrespectful brat? then i'll treat you like one." all of his patience gone and all of his pent up nerves balled up in the word brat.
and so the two of you left the event, the limo still parked from when you two were dropped because he had requested his driver stay for the duration of the event, already know that you would've pushed him too far to even stay for the entire time. but don't mistake michael, you're still his girl and he's still a gentleman that still opens the door for your and guides you into the backseat of the limo.
what caused this you might ask? your dress . . . no serious your dress. makeup had gotten on your dress which caused a domino effect of distress, cries, and into a full blown tantrum from you. not even the large soothing hand of michael's hand rubbing down and up again of the length of your back could cause you to calm down. in fact his reassuring words of how you have a back up dress made it worse. because although you thankfully brought one, you didn't want to wear it, so of course through sobs you spoke incoherently about how you don't want to wear the backup dress, how it's a backup dress for speaking out loud, it's meant to stay as a backup not become the dress. into you babbling about how it's not the vision, how you and michael are no longer going to match and that's your guy's signature.
it got to a point where michael tried. but every time he tried to comfort you a stream of tears only came. so when he look at his watch and saw that there was an hour till the event he ran a hand over his face, "gonna be breathtaking no matter what dress you're wearing," he enthuses, he knows the words are true, but he also knows how you take the material stuff more serious than him. placing a kiss to your temple and walking out of the room, signaling to the crew of people who were getting you ready who were banished by you when the makeup got on your dress to continue their work.
"y'know how much i hate being late." it's the first thing spoken between the two of you since the silent car ride and elevator up to the hotel room. and the comment makes you roll your eyes, something you know you could only be doing because michael unlocked and let you into the room first.
"but my-"
"your dress," michael cuts you off, perfectly in sync with when he turned the lock to the door, "i know all 'bout it, honey."
that, is what ticked you off, his condescending tone. "okay, well you don't have to use that tone with me." stilling in your tacks and turning around just for michael to be right there, taking a small step back.
michael chuckles, darkly, but nonetheless the first real chuckle of the night and it makes your stomach flip because you know it's at you. and you're expecting something from him, a fire back, but he does the worse thing he can do. walk right past you.
gaining your senses and hurriedly following behind him into the bedroom of the hotel and plopping yourself down on the bed, because what he's not going to do is make you look dumb for standing in the hallway all alone.
when you lean down to start undoing the straps of your heels you catch sight of michael undoing his tie with ease with on hand, not only working you up but making you further pissed. "it's not just a dress," said with all pout, the only way you're able to press this argument more is by concentrating on getting your heels off. sitting up and sighing with relief when you kick them off.
"then wha' is it then?" michael asks, stalking towards where you sit at the edge of the bed.
you're eyes shift around the room. you're really grabbing at straws right now. because it is just a dress, you know that, but it's all of the things that unfolded that caused the night to turn out drastically different than you thought it would (albeit to your doing). but all you can think about rather than being rational and sharing this with michael is being the one who wins this argument, if it even is one.
"it's you being inconsiderate."
you royally fucked up. and you know you did from the moment the first word rolled off your tongue, which is exactly why you turned you head to stare out the large hotel window and not into michael's face when you label him as inconsiderate when you know he is the one person farthest from the word.
michael's jaw clenches when that word comes from your lips. your very pretty lips that shine in the dim light of the room from your lip gloss, your very pretty lips that look extra pretty when they're apart as you moan out for him, and look even prettier when they're wrapped around his length to keep you from saying such disrespectful things.
"look at me." it's said with weight, with authority as his voice drops deeper. but you're unmoving. "don' make me have to repeat myself." a shiver runs through your spine, the only movement you made was not to turn and look at him but was to sit up straighter. feeling pathetic that michael compels you this deeply.
a beat of silence follows, and it isn't until your name is said in michael's voice that snaps your head into where he looms right in front of you. because he never says your name. you're baby, or honey, or sweetheart, or princess, or mama. you can really list off all of the nicknames michael uses for you before he ever uses your name to refer to you, not even when he's talking about you to other people does he say your name.
"all it took t'make you listen," he rumbles. still not satisfied that instead of you looking him in the face, your eyes are trained on his abdomen. taking matters into his own hands by grabbing at your jaw with his large hand, fingers pressing into the softness of your cheeks. tipping your head upward so you have other choice but to look him in the face, and michael can't even lie. it takes strength to discipline you, especially when you're staring up at him with your eyes already glazed over.
"when i ask you t'look at me you what?" quizzing you by quirking his eyebrow, expecting you to answer back and pleased when you do.
"look at you." you manage to mutter past michael squishing your cheeks.
michael nods at your words for once, "now tell me wha' makes me so inconsiderate?" except this time he releases your jaw to allow you to properly answer his question, allowing his hand fall down the column of your neck and settle across the base of it just above your clavicle.
you know he's humoring you, but you still answer, just not the way he wanted. "'cus my dress got ruined," pausing to swallow the lump in your throat, you know you're at the point of no return, feeling further on edge at the gentleness at which michael's thumb soothes at the side of your neck, "you saw how upset i was, so we should've just not gone."
michael is surprising calm in this moment, his movements stilled as her glances down at you past his heavy lids. "do i not do enough for you?"
the question is not what you expect, "that's not-"
but just like before, the hand that michael kept in safe distance at the base of your neck raises once more to cup your jaw again. "it's exactly that. 'ave you gone so rotten that y'think i'll no show an event jus' 'cus a dress bought with my money got ruined?" michael proses with restraint that only causes his tone to fall scarily flat.
and for the first time in the night you're left speechless. completely at michael's mercy, much like a lamb caught in the canines of a wolf's. it's the small tap of michael's index and middle finger against your cheek that grounds you, "it was a question, sweetheart."
the use of a nickname causes your eyes to turn from glazed to full blown glassy, tears beginning to swell in your waterline. your mouth opening then closing, because there is nothing, absolutely nothing that you can say to pull yourself out of this. "i-" you start, squirming underneath michael's hard gaze, you don't think there's anything that could pull his attention away from you right now, and you usually relish in that, but now all you want to do is shield yourself from it, "i don't know," is all you can muster out, feeling defeated.
michael's jaw clenches then unclenches, and you swear some of the hardness in his eyes soften over. "think y'jus' love bein' difficult." the hand clasped around you jaw squeezes, your cheeks squishing and lips pouting. "both know i'll give y'the world if y'asked. 'nd we both know i'll buy the entire stock of that damn dress if it made y'happy," he acknowledges, lowering himself down to your eye level, your jaw still in hand, "'m getting old, 'nd my tolerance for this behavior is thinning. so fix it, yeah?"
nodding your head the best you can, "yes, daddy," it comes out meek, but it causes michael to grin from ear to ear. pressing a pack to your pouted mouth before releasing your jaw, standing straight and walking himself over to the armchair in the corner of the hotel bedroom.
when he sits down in the seat he groans, throwing his head back and rolling his neck, letting his eyes fall shut for just a moment. "now c'mere and hump daddy's shoe," said with authority, as the hand that was around your jaw becks you over to him.
rubbing your thighs together and heart pounding into your ears as your eyes trail down the length of michael's relaxed body in the armchair to his sleek black dress shoe, "'nd no touching, so arms behind your back, baby."
cw: warning: werewolves, dark romance, predator/ prey dynamics, a little suggestive, and mild violence. Blood mentioned
—michael era: thriller. ❀ word count: 951
synopsis: Michael came to visit you on pure werewolf instinct, you don't know if to be scared or to be purely engulf by it.
part 4.
────୨ৎ────
Your hands found Michael belt loops, you put your fingers through them as you helped guide him towards your bed. He couldn’t help but kiss you hungrily, as if he was hurrying, rushing.. for some odd reason.
When the back of his knees hit the mattress he sat down heavily, pulling you onto his lap. The bed creaked beneath the sudden weight. His hands settled on your hips, gripping a little tight. His fangs this time did pierce you, causing him to taste a little metal in his mouth. He didn’t stop to check.. making you pause mid kiss. The usual Michael would’ve made sure you were okay. Stop the whole thing, no matter what. You leaned back and just straddled his lap looking down at him.
Your fingers brushed your bottom lip, coming away with the faintest trace of blood. “You.. pierced my lip,” you said..
His eyes locked onto it, for a moment he didn’t say anything. Then he smiled a little.
“Just a little blood..it won’t hurt.” He grabbed your chin, to see the blood. He licked his lips, as if the blood was attractive to him. You watched, and as much as you wanted to keep going you got off his lap.
“Michael, you aren’t here with me. This isn’t you talking so I’ll ignore that selfish thought.” If looks could kill, you would’ve definitely killed Michael. You were a little frustrated, you knew this wasn’t him but that isn’t exactly his fault.
For a second, frustration was on his face. Then it disappeared, he started to look exhausted as if he was fighting with himself all night.
With a quiet sigh he reached for your shoulder, and before you could even glanced.. his body tipped backwards onto the mattress.
“Michael?..” You whispered, he didn’t respond. Making you worried for a second, so you crawled over. Looking closer you see his chest rise and fall steadily. He was sound asleep.
“Lord have mercy..” you muttered. You pulled a blanket over him and sat beside the bed for a while, watching making sure everything was okay.
────୨ৎ────
Michael woke up looking around, he recognized the bedroom.
But how did he get here? His memory was scattered. He looked around seeing you were nowhere to be found, but with one sniff he smiled at the scent of breakfast. Eventually following it, finding himself in the kitchen.
Where he saw you cooking some white rice, and some butter biscuit for breakfast. With a side of sausage. He bit his thumb nail as he waited for you to turn around. “Mornin’ to ya too Michael.” You said as you didn’t even need to turn around. “Remember anything?” You asked, he put his hands on his face. He remembers small fragments of last night, but not the parts on why he came here in the first place, and if he did anything further with you.
He doesn't want the first time with you.. to not be with him mentally. You turned to see his face, and saw his pretty little doe eyes were looking down at his feet.
They always did that when he would start to overthink. “Where ya at right now?” You asked and he finally responded. “Did we?..”
“No.” You smiled at him, his shoulders finally resting. They weren’t as tense as before, when he looked at your face he saw a bruise on your bottom lip. He walked towards you pressing his fingers on it. “I did this..Oh God.. I’m going to eventually hurt you—“ You shushed him, “that ain’t gonna happen.”
He wanted to believe you.. or even believe himself he could never hurt you. But he started to believe that could happen.
You looked up and watched him. “One thing that did piss me the hell off..”
His attention fully was on you waiting for you to dog him out, or even put him in the doghouse. He knew you would get mad eventually..
“Is how you left me on edge.” You made a joke out of the situation to make sure he didn’t keep blaming himself as you knew he liked to do. He laughed, “ya so dirty..” He gripped his hands on your waist but it was a lot softer compared to last night. He wrapped his arms around you, giving you a soft hug.
Michael kissed your neck softly, making a trace of his kisses towards your ear. Small little whimpers escaped your mouth, when he heard it he let out a little laugh. You then whispered something in between your heavy breathing, it was light, “After breakfast .. we could try again?..”
Michael immediately pulled back just enough to look at you. The smile on his face faded, not because he didn’t want to.
Because he did..
But the bruise on your lip was still there, visible evidence that he couldn’t quite control himself yet. His thumb brushed against it.
He was scared... What if he hurt you again? Loose control? He pouted a little in front of you, and did a sigh. “I don’t know..”
You didn’t say anything, you understood.
“What if I lose control again?” You reached up and grabbed his face. “Then we stop again.” His eyes searched yours.
“Just like last night..” You reassured him.
He thought to himself, it was morning.. there isn’t really a chance to hurt you in the daytime. Slowly, he nodded
“Unt unt..Michael Jackson. I need a verbal answer..” he laughed, and in his small soft voice he said, “yes..” his voice cracked a bit, which you found absolutely adorable.
“Good. Now can we hurry and eat, the biscuits are getting cold.” He giggled at your remark and helped you with the plates.
fin.
okay, so if we’re VERYY open minded I could come out with a different part of you two still going after the pierce lip. If yall into that😪…(fyi he’ll still passes out but the scene would be longer.)
Pairing: Yandere!Michael x Black!Fem Reader
Summary: Michael only had to see you once to know you were everything he ever wanted...and what Michael wants, he gets.
Warning: Stalking, Yandere behavior, Stockholm Syndrome, Captivity, Drugging, Baby trapping, smutty smut smut, ooc Michael...like serious ooc
Word Count: 12.1k
A/N: I had to take it down a notch cause this was becoming a monster, so it might feel a bit rushed at the end...but please tell me how y'all like it...
Michael had just come home and was surprised when he didn't see you. You always greeted him home with a kiss on the cheek, asking about his day.
So the fact that you weren't there caused his chest to tighten. Cautiously, he called out your name, the tightening of his chest getting worse when you didn't answer.
Finally, he spotted you in the living room, curled up on the armchair with a blanket covering everything except your face. Smiling, Michael allowed his body to relax, and he made his way over to you. Gently, he pulled off the blanket, and his body softened at the sight of you. Your belly hadn't gotten big enough to stop you from curling into a ball, and he loved how peaceful you looked. He always said that you'd look so good as a mother, and he was glad to be right.
While he desired to kiss you, he also wanted to let you sleep, so he gently swiped his thumb across your cheek and chuckled softly when he saw you chase after his touch, even in your sleep.
It took you so long to get here, but Michael finally had everything he could ever want.
Michael was a shy man. That was the first thing you noticed, or perhaps not totally shy but cautious. He watched and observed. When he did decide to talk, it was quiet. Just a few words, but then again, all he needed were a few words. He commanded a room just by standing, dominated by singing, and controlled everything using nothing.
Of all the people at the club, you didn't expect him to notice you, but as you would come to find out, he noticed everything, including you.
Especially you.
The moment he saw you, he was captivated. You were dancing, eyes bright and full of life. Sometimes, your laughter would drift over to him through the music, drawing him even closer into your orbit. Your skin glowed and reflected the myriad of colors from the club lights.
Blues, purples, greens, reds.
They all danced on you as if they belonged there, as if your skin was their stage for the night, letting you tell their story. Your hair in its natural glory—side-parted to cover one side of your face—bounced with every move, each curl participating in the dance, the sheen only lending to what Michael could only describe as supernatural beauty. As he watched you, his gaze was intense and focused, and the side of his mouth curled. He knew you were genuinely having a good time because, unlike your group of friends, you hadn't had a single drop of alcohol. He liked that immediately. Over the course of the night, he watched you. He watched you laugh and dance. He watched you rebuff the many men who tried to dance with you. He watched as you cared for your friend when they inevitably lost their fight with the liquor. He watched your hands as they gently cradled their face. He watched as your nails raked their scalp, loosening their limbs and making it easier for you to haul them out. He watched as you cooed to them, settling their upset expressions.
'Such children.' He rolled his eyes at their immature behavior.
'Such maternal instinct,' he thought immediately after as he watched you carry your friend out of the club and imagined you holding a little girl with your skin coloring and his eyes. A shiver of pleasure and of want went down his spine and stayed there, long after you left.
That same night, he requested a dossier on you, and when it arrived at the end of the week, he memorized everything.
He knew of your past. The ex-boyfriends who blatantly flirted right in front of you, who made you feel you deserved less than what they gave, and the family who treated your existence as if it were a burden. You were adopted at the age of three by a couple who believed they couldn't have kids until they did when you turned five. On paper, you had a good childhood. They fed and clothed you. They supported you financially, but the therapist you had since high school spoke of emotional neglect. The feeling of not being enough, a feeling that he knew never fully went away.
Perhaps that is why you took on the motherly role in your group of friends.
He learned that the only way you survived was because of the friends who knew you better than you knew yourself and who weren't afraid to call out shitty behavior. He learned that they tended to drive away potential love interests and that this became a point of contention in your group. He knew then that they were going to be an obstacle, not a particularly hard one but a consistent one. He learned about the way you fought tooth and nail to graduate from college to work with children who needed an angel in the hell that was their lives. He was excited that he was right about your maternal instinct, but he also knew that your job was going to be a defining point.
You were perfect for him, and if there was one thing everyone knew about Michael, it was that what he wanted, he'd eventually get it.
Unfortunately for you, what he wanted was for you to be completely dependent on him. Emotionally, mentally, and financially.
So he learned your schedule. He had someone follow you to work and had them log how many hours you spent working. He admired your work ethic but hated how exhausted you looked when you finally went back to your apartment. Even then, your dedication caused his admiration of you to grow, and he knew that any children you'd have together would never long for parental love. His report also included how many times your friends would visit you. It was the one thing he worried about, but they all had keys to your apartment. He wasn't happy that his assessment of them being a consistent problem was right, but it wasn't as if he couldn't work around that. He memorized when you'd come to the club and how long you'd stay. Waiting for the day he could finally match the day you came was the longest wait of his life, but when you finally stepped through the doors, his entire world narrowed down to you. From the VIP section, he watched you dance, laugh, and experience everything without a drop of liquor dulling your senses. You didn't just live in the moment; you inhaled it. It took weeks of him watching you before he decided to approach. He ignored the suspicion in your friends' eyes when he made his way to you. Not even they could stop you from dancing with Michael Jackson.
You were more beautiful up close, so much more that his imagination did you no justice. He commandeered your entire night, marveling at how easily conversation flowed between the two of you. It was even more magical when he noticed that your attention was kept on him without him trying, and while he maintained a respectable distance, all he wanted was for you to be in his lap. When the night was over, he slipped his number into your hand and waited for your call, which happened the very next morning. Your voice over the phone was just as sweet as in person, and your nerves were far more vibrant; it sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine. He knew he had to be careful with you, but oh, did he want you.
When you officially met him at the same club, he spent all night watching you; he was sweet. He made you laugh; you left with his number in your palm and a slight wetness on your cheek from where he kissed you goodbye. You called him the next morning and melted whenever he called your name, his voice wrapping around you like silk. There were flowers delivered to your apartment and late-night dates, so there were no interruptions. Handwritten letters with little trinkets or books you mentioned in passing. Your friends warned you not to get too attached so fast, and you tried your best, but even when he was busy, he made sure you knew he was thinking of you. He didn't rush for a relationship; he allowed it to grow slowly, and over the course of a few months, you were infatuated. It was the first time that anyone in your life made you feel seen, and it was a heady and addicting feeling, so you didn't notice how he wasn't quite right until it was too late.
It started with a phone call. Or rather, multiple missed phone calls.
You didn't think twice about the way he'd get upset when you didn't answer his calls. He was busy, and he still took the time out of his day to call and check up on you. Making yourself available for him wasn't a hardship when he did the same for you, or at least tried. He called during work breaks and when he knew you'd be home. He never called during work, first thing in the morning, or in the middle of the night. He respected those boundaries he asked you to set.
"You always talk about how you miss me girl, but you're never there when I call." His voice was flat.
"I'm sorry, baby," you apologized, your hand gripping the phone tighter as you heard him sigh on the other end. You hated when he sounded like that...he wasn't angry; it was worse.
Disappointment.
Anger you could deal with, but when he was disappointed, he'd get quiet. He wouldn't ignore you or shut you out, but every action, every touch would become performative. Something he'd do out of habit, not affection. He'd become cold and unloving, so much so that you'd wish he'd pretend you didn't exist rather than deal with becoming an obligation.
"Pick up next time girl," He sounded weary, and guilt festered in your stomach at how tired he sounded. "Don't waste my time."
Your friends thought that was weird. They called it manipulative and controlling, but it wasn't. They likened him to Joshua, one of your exes who called because he felt entitled to know where you were and demanded that you be there when he called. He never understood the demands of your work and always believed he should come first. Michael never did that and would never do that. So, his disappointment wasn't manipulative or toxic.
It was warranted.
Michael simply wanted to talk to you, and you wanted to talk to him, and it hurt him to put in so much effort for you not to meet him halfway. Truly, how was that bad when you're the one who wanted it? You loved it when the first thing he said was, "How are you, mama?"
He'd ask you about your day, genuinely interested in what was going on in your life. You'd never had that before. Your friends knew this, so why weren't they happy for you? Why did they insist he was just as bad as your exes?
Michael's answer came swiftly. The words flowed as if he already knew what to say.
"They're jealous baby," he said, his voice wrapping around you from where you pressed the phone tightly to your ear, pretending he was there, pretending you could feel his breath across your skin.
"They don't have to worry bout you anymore. Don't pay them any mind. Since when is it wrong to want to talk to my girl?"
He was right, you thought. All he wanted to do was talk. You never realized his voice was gently caressing you to ease your worries. You never realized his words were guiding your thoughts. Setting you up to ignore your friends when they expressed their concerns.
"They're jealous baby."
Next came the necklace. A pretty, simple thing really. A necklace with the letter M. A delicate thing in Michael's own writing. Diamond-encrusted, rose gold with a chain that positioned the M perfectly between your breasts. Expensive enough that the mere thought of letting it sit in your jewelry box made you uncomfortable, but simple enough that it would go perfectly with everything, and it did. The smile that lit up his face whenever he saw you wearing it was more than enough for you to get over how expensive it was. You longed to see that smile every time you saw him.
The day he presented it to you, he left a trail of kisses from your neck, right between your breasts, where the M would sit. He clipped it on you, his arms coming to wrap around your waist as he placed his chin in the dip of your collarbone.
"Beautiful," he whispered, his lips trailing down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He looked at you with a reverence that caused a heat to simmer low in your belly, and you wanted to squirm at the intensity.
You tilted your head to the side, a small sigh making its way from between your lips. You didn't notice the way his pupils dilated at that, or the dark, possessive look that entered his eyes. The moment you looked back at him, his boyish smile was plastered on his face, his eyes already softened. You melted against his body, perfectly content and perfectly ignorant.
Then...the dynamic shifted, and all it took was one man not knowing you weren't single and you not realizing how possessive Michael was.
Michael had brought you out to an event, the first one since you started dating, so it was a big deal. He planned your outfits to match perfectly, from your hair to your jewelry, down to the shoes you wore. Even going as far as to have your dress custom-made. Standing together in a full-length mirror, Michael's arms wrapped around you with his chin on your shoulder, it was impossible to deny how you complemented each other perfectly.
The moment you stepped out of the car, the paparazzi were in a frenzy. Michael's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist, and he kept you close as you navigated the crowd. The event itself was fine; you had an enjoyable time, feeling euphoric every time Michael introduced you as his girl. He preened every time someone complimented how well you looked together or how beautiful you were. You were too excited and too consumed by the event to notice just how possessive he sounded over you.
Before long, however, your heels began to press your toes together in a way that made it hurt to walk. You've never worn heels as long as you have tonight. You were fully prepared to stick it out, but Michael noticed the way you winced with every step you took. With an amused chuckle, he placed a kiss on your forehead to silence your protests and directed you to sit at the bar.
"Wait for me," he mouthed against your cheek.
Unfortunately, a pretty girl sitting alone at the bar invited attention. Attention that was not appreciated by Michael.
When he noticed you talking, he froze for a moment. It was enough to see you laughing, head thrown back, smile wide, eyes crinkled. His eyes narrowed as you gently patted the man's arm.
"Better go get your girl Mike," someone in the group commented with a little chuckle.
Now...Michael wouldn't call himself the jealous type, but what was his...was his. He was possessive, and he did not share. So, the mere thought that anyone felt...entitled to speak to what was his...it made his blood freeze.
A turn of your head and the next thing you knew, Michael was there, his hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you up.
"I got some people I want to introduce you to."
He was quick to usher you away after that, giving you no time to say goodbye. He brought you closer to him as you approached his group, allowing you to burrow into his side. He didn't look angry or upset, but you knew the truth. He kept his smile on, but you could tell from the corners of his mouth that each smile was forced. He didn't ignore you, but his responses were noticeably more clipped than before. His biggest tell, however, was the way he gripped your waist harder than he ever had. Each time he flexed his fingers, you could feel his nails digging into your soft flesh, and you fought off the urge to wince with every one.
His actions were vastly different from when he would treat affection like it was an obligation. This time, each touch left a trail of fire in its wake. Uncomfortable and lingering. It happened whenever someone got too close. A hand accidentally touching your arm or eyes that lingered for too long on your body; a smile that was too wide and too earnest.
He kept up the charade until the moment you entered the limo. The silence that permeated the small space made you squirm in your seat, and Michael honed in on it.
Ever so slowly, his head turned in your direction, and he could practically hear your heart as it sped up in anticipation.
"Uncomfortable?" He asked softly, and he watched as you tried to come up with a reply. You were anxious, and he knew that his aviators contributed to that. You hated when you couldn't see his expressions, and he fought off the urge to smirk as he watched your anxiousness heighten.
"Mike..." you trailed off, biting your lip nervously. "You're upset, and I don't know why."
Michael tilted his head, and you wish you could see his eyes, but his aviators hid them from you. Still, the way he clenched his jaw and tapped his fingers told you everything you needed to know.
"Did you enjoy your conversation?"
You frowned at the question. "What conversation?"
Michael breathed deeply through his nose and exhaled slowly from his mouth. The playing dumb was aggravating, scratching at his irritation like a fly that buzzed around his head.
"That man. Did you enjoy his attention on you?"
You blinked at him, once, then once more. You were caught off guard by the question. "Michael," you said apprehensively, an unpleasant feeling settling in your stomach. "It was just a conversation."
"Not when you're actin like a single woman." You stared at him, eyes wide and slightly open. His words burned.
"What is that supposed to mean?" You asked, folding your arms in front of you. You didn't like the way he was accusing you, the way he just assumed you were flirting.
"Did you tell him you were taken?"
"I didn't have to," you spoke slowly and carefully.
"Everyone there knew I came with you. You showed me off to everyone; you introduced me as your girl."
Michael tilted his head up, and you watched with bated breath as he inhaled and exhaled slowly.
"That doesn't stop men from thinking they still have a shot. How is what you did any different from what your exes did to you?"
Michael watched from the corner of his eye as your jaw dropped and hurt flashed in those pretty eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came. He knew very well what bringing up your exes would do, and while he hated to hurt you, he needed you to understand.
"That is nothing like what happened tonight. They flirted on purpose." Her voice was low and angry, but Michael refused to backtrack.
"Oh," Michael breathed, nodding his head. He tapped a finger on his lap. He let the silence stew for just a minute before he spoke again.
"So, because it was an innocent conversation, my hurt about you letting him flirt with you is invalid?"
"That's not what I meant." You were speaking through your teeth now, your hands clenching and unclenching as they rested on your lap.
He looked at you fully. "Then what did you mean? Do you have any idea what you looked like laughing with him? Touching on his arm like you were his girl?"
You opened your mouth to say deny it, but stopped when you remembered that you didn't know. You didn't realize how it would look from an outside perspective. With horror, you realized that you had become your exes tonight. Not in the sense of you flirting...but the obvious hurt you caused Michael to feel with your actions.
You didn't think anything of the conversation. You didn't think you had to tell him you weren't available, and you didn't think twice about initiating physical touch first. That revelation caused your breath to hitch, and liquid pooled at the bottom of your eyes.
Michael hummed and nodded. He turned his head to stare out the window, but you couldn't look away from him. You so desperately wanted to apologize, but you couldn't get the words to leave your mouth, no matter how much it opened and closed. The entire ride back to Neverland was stifling; your body refused to relax, your mind refused to stop running in circles, and Michael refused to look at you.
"You're mine," he said quietly, after the silence settled like a weight heavy on your back.
He finally turned his head to look at you. "Do you understand?"
Silently, you nodded, eyes watering at the thought of disappointing Michael or worse, making him feel like your exes made you feel.
You sniffled as you picked at the skin around your nails. "I'm sorry." Your voice cracked.
You heard Michael sigh, his hand coming to stop your movements. Gently, he gathered your hands in his, rubbing circles atop them. He brought them up and kissed your fingers, forgiveness tangled in the softness of his touch. You felt your body finally relax and melt as he brought you into a hug, placing your head right above his heart. You closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, noting how with each beat of his, yours was right behind.
"Don't cry and don't hurt yourself baby," he reprimanded. You sniffled once more, fisting his clothes tightly.
"It's okay. I forgive you," he hushed. "As long as you remember you belong to me."
As you lay on his chest, those last two sentences sent shivers down your spine, and you didn't know why. You wanted his forgiveness...so why did it feel like an acceptance of something you had yet to understand?
After that night, it was like a flip switched. Whenever you were out together, you were constantly watched. If not by Michael, then by someone on his team. Any time a man would approach you, you were suddenly whisked away and found yourself right back by Michael's side, his arm wrapped around your waist. His nails digging into your skin.
It was stifling and controlling, and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to tell him anything. Not when his reaction from that night played in your mind. You made a mistake; he's just making sure you never make it again. You tell yourself over and over again, hoping that the sinking feeling deep in your stomach will finally lift.
Over time, the feeling dulls, but it never fully leaves.
Things began to take a turn when he asked you to move in with him. You'd only been dating for a year, and yet, he wanted your lives intertwined as if you'd been together for years.
It wasn't the first time he'd asked. Or the second. Or the third. Each time, he came up with new arguments. Ones that made sense. Ones that had you second-guessing yourself.
"Mike...honey, we've only been dating for a year," you said, biting your lip, but your resistance was low.
"I know you're the one for me girl." He grabbed your hands, rubbing circles on the back of them before bringing you into a hug. One hand came to hold the back of your head, and the other gripped your waist. His nails didn't dig into your skin, but his hug pressed you tightly against his body. So tightly, you could feel his heartbeat against yours.
You noticed that it was slightly more in sync than the last time.
"You can keep your apartment if we living together doesn't work out, but we can at least try yeah?"
He tilted your head up, stroking your cheek with his thumb.
"Just imagine it baby. Never having to worry about paying bills or making rent. No more broken ACs or perverted neighbors. No more missed calls. No more having to say goodbye."
He brushed his lips lightly against yours. You sighed at the softness, whimpering when he pulled back.
"You'd be waking up next to me every morning. You love that mama," he reminded you, and you did. You loved the feeling of his arms wrapped around your body as if he never wanted to let you go. His breath on your neck, his lips mumbling against your skin, and the way he automatically folded himself around you if you ever switched positions.
"Say yes," he whispered.
"Michael..." your voice trailed off as he brushed his lips against yours again. Your reasoning for refusing left your thoughts in his proximity. You inhaled deeply; the full force of his cologne combined with the feel of his lips covered your mind like a fog. You leaned up on your toes, trying to close the distance, but he pulled back once more, his fingers tightening on your curls, reprimanding.
You whined, and he chuckled at your desperation.
"Say yes," he whispered again, leaning down so his lips touched yours with every movement of his words.
You took a shaky breath, unable to get much air into your lungs. Your eyes fluttered, his gaze catching yours and locking you into place. You felt your heart stutter at the array of emotions in his eyes. Love being the most prominent. Never had anyone looked at you like that. Gently, you placed a hand on his cheek, your body softening at the way he nuzzled into the palm of your hand, his eyes closing at the contact.
"Yes," you finally whispered, and you moaned when he closed the distance, and you felt the full force of his lips on yours.
He licked your bottom lip, and you eagerly opened your mouth to him, your fingers gripping his shirt tightly as he devoured you. He pushed you against the wall, making sure his groin pressed against yours.
Michael broke the kiss, burying his head in your neck to hide his smile. He knew you'd give in so easily. One touch of him was enough to melt the tension off your shoulders. So desperate, so willing to please, and he loved you for that. Giving yourself so easily to him.
"Thanks Mama."
The move was quick. Quicker than you were expecting and efficient enough, you didn't have much time to dwell on it.
By the end of the week, you weren't just a guest at Neverland Ranch; you were an occupant.
It was nice living with Michael. You didn't have to worry about bills or rent or noisy and nosy neighbors. Whatever you were in the mood for, his chefs made it for you. Your laundry was always done before you ever had the chance to fill up your basket. You didn't have to worry about chipping a nail trying to repair anything. Your hands no longer cracked or peeled from the cleaners you used.
Your every need was taken care of. It was easy to fall into a rhythm as if you'd always been there. It was easy to ignore that there wasn't an adjustment period.
The best part, however, was that he finally had you all to himself. He took a month off, just to be with you. So he could wake up with you in his arms. So he could watch you sleep and admire the way your skin glowed underneath the warmth of the morning sun. He could finally take his time learning your body. The way your breath would hitch when he ran his fingers down your side, or the way you'd bite your lip when he kneaded your ass, or the way you moaned when he sucked on your neck. Even if he couldn't be inside you, your body learned how to react to his touch and his voice.
Almost like you were his puppet. Almost.
The best part was when you'd both fall into bed at the end of the day, and he'd grab you by your waist so that you were facing him and he'd watch you fall asleep. Knowing that his face was the last thing you saw every night was a dream come true.
Unfortunately, something he learned was that all dreams had a bumpy road to a happy ending, and his bump came in the form of your friends.
It had been a month since you moved in, and Michael had taken time off just to be with you. It was an entire month of you coming home and being met with Michael's embrace. An entire month of you spending every moment you had free with him, and it was wonderful, but you needed a night out. As much as you loved spending time with Michael, you missed your friends.
"Michael, I haven't seen my friends in weeks. I just wanna go out and have some fun."
Michael cocked his head to the side, his eyes flickering to you once before going back to his book.
"You can baby," he said coolly, and it made your insides twist in on themselves and your palms sweat.
You frowned. Licking your lips, a nervous habit you haven't been able to break. "Why do you sound so upset then?"
Michael sighed and placed his book down gently on the table. He lifted his eyes to you, and you took a single step forward at the discomfort on his face.
"Those are the friends that always upset you baby. They always got something bad to say bout me." Michael looked down then, his face twisting before smoothing out.
"About us."
"They're just worried," you defended.
"About what?" He shook his head, a frown marring his expression. "I finally get some time off and wanna spend it with my girl, and suddenly I'm keeping you trapped," he scoffed, but you heard the hurt he tried to hide behind frustration, and a knot formed in your stomach.
"I haven't met them, and somehow, they seem to think they know everything about me."
You rush over to him and sit on the floor beside him. Cupping his face, you place kisses on both of his cheeks, then his nose, and then finally his mouth. When he looked you in the eyes, the hurt you saw caused tears to pool in your eyes. It was the type of hurt you saw when the media said something hurtful again or when interviewers would ask questions they knew would sting. It was the type of hurt he wore when he didn't know why the world was cruel.
"I didn't know they made you feel that way baby," you whisper, tears spilling from your eyes and guilt settling in your stomach.
Michael shrugged, averting his eyes from yours.
"They're your friends. Even if they don't like me, they make you happy."
You snorted and shook your head. "How can they when they make the love of my life feel this way?"
You knew they didn't like him, but you truly believed that over time, they'd change their minds.
You sighed and put your head on his lap. Closing your eyes when his hand came to play with your curls.
"I'll talk to them," you promised.
Michael paused his hand, his eyes flickering to your head for the briefest of moments; a spark of triumph flickered to life before he continued playing with your hair.
"I don't want you to choose." His voice was gentle, but his gaze intensified, softening the moment you began to raise your head.
You looked up at him, your lips pursed and brows furrowed. "It's not a choice," you denied, shaking your head. You leaned up to place a chaste kiss on his mouth.
"I love you," you whispered, laying your head back down on his lap.
Michael's face changed gradually as he knew he was that much closer. A small but satisfied smile grew on his face.
"And I you."
Your friends did not appreciate your words about how they made Michael feel. They threw around words like "manipulative" and "toxic" as if they knew a single thing about him. You spent hours trying to convince them that Michael wasn't like your ex-boyfriends, that they were being overly protective of you when they didn't need to be, but it was as if you were speaking to a wall. How Michael was so tolerant of them, you didn't know, but the differences were stark, and you clenched your jaw so tightly at the thought.
You slammed the phone down on the receiver, tears running down your cheek, and like you summoned him, Michael appeared before you, his smile falling the moment he saw you.
He said nothing but opened his arms, and you ran into them. You cried into his shirt, and he just held you. One hand rubbing your back, the other coming to hold the back of your head, and he smiled.
Your friends were the first to go.
Then came your job.
Now Michael loved your job. He loved that you loved helping children, but now that you were living with him, your job pulled you away far too much. He had plans for marriage and children of your own.
You loved your job. You loved helping children get away from situations like yours. You took such great care to make sure each child received your attention, and at first, Michael was supportive. Given his love of children and his own passion for making their lives better, he was thrilled to have found someone who cared about children as much as he did.
Still...the thought of him going on tour without seeing you every day overrode that support.
"Michael," you sighed, completely irritated with him. "Those children need me."
Michael, who had bowed his head, lifted it, an incredulous look on his face.
"And I don't?"
You shook your head; the weight of the argument started to settle now. "That's not what I meant."
Michael scoffed, standing up so abruptly that it caused you to take an involuntary step back.
"What did you mean then? I need you," he stressed. "This tour is bigger than anything I've ever done."
"I know Mike," you sighed. "We promised that dating you wouldn't get in the way of my job. If it was a week, then I'd agree, but this is more than a year."
Michael stood where he was, his face finally showing some sign of hearing what you were saying. His shoulders slumped after a minute, and he bowed his head.
"Yeah," he croaked out, and your breath caught at how utterly defeated he sounded. "It's just..." he trailed off, and you took a step toward him.
He looked up at you, and when you saw the tears in his eyes, your heart stuttered in your chest. You hated it when he cried. It tore at you as if someone had raked your chest right open. You took another step toward him, your arms opening slightly, and he readily closed the distance between the two of you, leaning his forehead against yours. His arms came to settle around you, gently cradling you as if you were the most precious thing to him.
"I can't do this without you mama," he breathed. "It's going to be so much. They're going to demand so much, and I want to do this...I want to do my first solo tour; I just want to be able to recognize myself when it's done."
Your next breath was shaky. You closed your eyes and tried to picture the children who need your help, but all you could see was Michael. Michael struggling against the expectations. Michael alone without anyone to confide in. Michael, without the safety net of home to fall back on, and something in you shattered with his next words.
"I need you, baby...please."
The Bad tour was just as hectic as you were expecting it to be, and every waking moment you had was spent by Michael's side. It was more intense than the month you spent at home. You left for work then; you had an outside life, but the tour changed all of that. Your life began to revolve around him, his schedule, his wants, and his needs. By the time the tour was over, you hardly remembered where he ended, and you began.
Trying to go back to work was like fitting a puzzle piece missing an arm. It fit, but something was missing. It was as if a vital piece of you was ripped off, and while you tried to focus on your job, you found yourself seeking the comfort and familiarity of Michael's arms more often than not, and that caused problems at work.
"You've been distracted," your boss said when he called you into his office.
"You were once our top social worker, but now you've missed vital calls, and you've been late to check-ups. Your paperwork has had more errors this month than last year combined!"
You flinched when he yelled and tried to ignore that voice in your head that whispered to you, telling you that you would feel better at home.
"I know," you replied weakly. "I'm just going through a rough patch."
Your boss scoffed and then sighed heavily.
"Rough patch, or is living with the King of Pop more important than hurt children?"
You gasped at the vitriol, anger rising suddenly in your chest. Narrowing your eyes at your boss, you spoke through clenched teeth. "Michael has nothing to do with this! I just came back from tour with him. I just need time to acclimate again."
Your boss looked at you, his jaw tight with eyes full of frustration, and you felt cold, your anger crumbling away like dust.
"I wasn't talking about Jackson," he replied, and that coldness became a block of ice as apprehension wrapped around you.
"I was talking about you. You seem happier when your day is done. You don't stay as long as you used to. You do the bare minimum."
You shook your head and clenched your fists. "I know," you repeated. "I just need time."
Your boss shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Those kids can't afford to wait for you to find the time. You forgot Jordan's name last week. That isn't needing more time. That's you trying to find it after you gave it away."
With each word he spoke, a numbness settled over you as his words rang into the office. The truth of it slapped you across the face as you remembered the crestfallen face of Jordan when he realized you had forgotten his name. You hadn't meant to, but your mind wasn't on his case...it was on the ticking clock.
"We can't afford any more mistakes, and those kids can't afford your offer of something you don't have."
He reached into his desk and pulled out a check. He slid it across the desk. You looked at the check and then at your boss's face, and your own crumbled when you saw the genuine regret in his eyes.
"Please see your way out of the office. You're fired."
As you made your way out of the office, you got a sense of relief that was quickly followed by a gasp of horror as you realized the reality of your situation. You shouldn't have agreed to go on tour with him...you should have been here...and yet, the thought of having let Michael do that tour alone sends you tumbling down a hole of guilt so deep, you don't think you'd ever hit the bottom.
You don't know how long you stood out there, but you watched as coworkers passed you by, and not one of them said a word to you. You didn't blame them. Social work was not for the weak...or the lazy...or the unmotivated. These were children. Innocent, harmless, unprotected children, and it was your job to keep them safe. This wasn't a job you could treat like a hobby or slack off in because that would result in a child who would end up dead or gone. You loved your job, and yet...it still came second to Michael, and the worst part was that you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Sure, you felt horror at how you let this slip through your fingers, but the horror wasn't enough, and you couldn't pinpoint the moment it happened.
Eventually, you made your way to your car and drove home.
The minute you entered the door, Michael had called your name. Following the sound of his voice, you found yourself in the kitchen. Michael took one look at your face and came to wrap you in a hug, but you couldn't find the energy to bring your arms around him.
"I got fired today," you said in perhaps the blankest voice possible.
Michael pulled back to look at you, brows already furrowed, and a question on his lips that you didn't want to hear.
"How did it get to this, Mike?"
You stared around the kitchen and walked out to the living room. You stared at the house Michael had made his home in and saw nothing of yourself in it.
"How did it get to what?"
You threw your arms out, gesturing to the house, to him, to yourself.
"How did I lose myself in you so much that the job I fought so hard for has become second in my life?"
Michael's face was one of concern when you began talking, but by the end of your sentence, it had turned into something like adoration. Michael came up and grabbed your arms, rubbing them up and down, before grabbing your shoulders and gently massaging them.
He was trying to calm you down, to take away the tension that caused your shoulders to climb higher and higher up your neck.
He found it adorable that you believed that you lost yourself, as if he'd ever let that happen. Everything he loved about you was the same.
"You haven't lost yourself baby," he cooed. His hands squeezed once and then came to frame your face. He pressed his lips against yours, nipping at your bottom lip.
"You're exactly who you should be."
A chill went down your spine, and your hands came to rest atop Michael's.
"Who is that?" You asked, but you were afraid of his answer, not because you already knew what it was, but because you already knew you'd agree.
Michael smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Mine, baby."
He leaned in closer, nuzzling your cheek, and without a single thought, you leaned into his touch.
"You're mine," he whispered.
You stood there with his hand on your cheek, his words echoing in your head. You were his, but you also wanted to be your own...and you were losing that.
"I think..." you stopped and licked your lips, hands already sweating with nerves.
"I think I need to go back to my apartment."
The moment you spoke those words, Michael took several steps back from you. His face showed no expression, his eyes completely unreadable.
"What?"
That single question froze the air in the room. Michael's voice sounded devoid of any emotion. It was monotone and flat. It was less of a question than it was a statement.
"I need to go back to my apartment," you said again. "I don't want to just be yours, Mike. I need to remember how to be my own."
Michael shook his head. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. He should have known that losing your job would be the breaking point, but you were his.
"You can't," he said, still shaking his head.
"Michael," you began to say, but you stopped in your tracks when he abruptly grabbed your arms, his fingers digging into your skin.
"Our love comes first. Everything else is secondary. You can't leave me, baby."
Michael knew he looked scared because he was. Scared that all his efforts were going to waste. Scared that the minute you're alone in that apartment, he'll start to become second in your life. He worked so hard to get you here.
"I'm not leaving you Mike." He heard the words, but he also heard the fear underneath those words. He shook his head again, leaning it on your chest.
You gently pull yourself away from him and grab his face gently in your hands.
"I need this love. You promised me," you remind him. He stares at you before he drops his head and nods. You let out the breath you'd been holding and smile gently at the top of his head.
Michael sniffles but straightens himself up.
"Can we at least eat dinner before I help you pack what you need?"
You nod and follow him into the kitchen. Dinner was a silent affair; the only sounds were the clinking of silverware against your plates. Soon enough, dinner was done, and before you could get up, Michael slid a glass of wine in front of you. He hadn't looked at you the entire time, and he wasn't looking at you now.
You sighed but drank the wine. You originally meant to drink as much of it as you could, but it was good wine. Smooth and sweet, just like you liked it.
"You know I love you, right?"
Michael's voice broke the silence. You looked at him, but he was looking down at his wine glass. It was almost empty, and that spoke for his emotional state.
"Yeah," you breathed out. "I know."
You reached over and grabbed his hand, waiting until he looked up at you. Meeting his eyes, you gave a shaky smile, relaxing when he returned it.
"I love you too."
His smile widened, softening at the edges. You finished your wine and began to head up the stairs when a wave of dizziness took over. The stairs in front of you doubled, and the edges of your vision began to blacken. You stumbled, but Michael was there to catch you.
"Baby?" He called, his voice tinged with worry.
"Mi—" you tried to call him, but your voice slurred, and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth. Blinking, your vision steadily got blurrier the more you tried to clear it. Your head lolled to the side, and despite your trying to fight the way your eyes wanted to close, your eyes rolled in the back of your head, and all you knew was darkness.
Michael cradled you close to his chest as he carried you up the stairs. He didn't want to resort to this, but you leaving was not an option. Hearing you remind him of what he said about the apartment sent a chill down his spine. How could you have remembered that, and why? He couldn't stop the thoughts that entered his head. He didn't want to distrust your words, but how could he not when you remembered so easily? Gently, he laid you down on the bed and lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your body; he pulled you close to him. He knew you'd be angry and scared in the morning, but he also knew that this was necessary. You'd get over it, you'd learn.
Warmth was the first thing you felt.
Fear was the second.
You opened your eyes slowly and were met with the lavish ceiling belonging to your and Michael's bedroom. Turning your head to the side, you met Michael's eyes as he waited for your reaction. Slowly, you took a deep breath and sat up. As calmly as you could, you got off the bed and began to walk out of the room. Following closely behind you, Michael trailed after you down the stairs but stopped right as you got to the front door.
"You can't leave me." His voice was soft, calm, and firm. You looked behind you once and faltered at the sight of Michael standing there, hands in pockets and completely unbothered.
"You drugged me," you replied, clenching your hands to hide the shaking.
Michael nodded his head and took a few steps toward you. "You were trying to leave me."
You stood still as he crept closer and closer to you. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, and it took everything you had to not hyperventilate.
"You're mine, and I'm yours. That's how it works."
You shook your head, backing up slightly. This was escalating faster than you previously thought it would. You turned and walked to the front door, but when you went to turn the handle, it didn't budge. You tried it again, only for the same thing to happen. Your hand fell away as the reality of your situation began to settle in.
"I didn't want to do this. I wanted you to surrender to me without all this." Michael's voice came from behind you, his breath tickling your neck. He wrapped his arms around your middle and began to guide you to the living room. He sat you down on the couch while he went to sit on the armchair by the fireplace.
"Michael, please. Just let me go," you begged, but he simply looked at you. No, it was more that he looked through you. His gaze was unfocused, his face set in a carefully blank mask. Even as he lounged in the armchair, there was this unmistakable tension in his hands as he gripped the arms.
"Why do you want to leave me?"
Michael stood up from where he was sitting near the fireplace and sauntered toward you. His feet made no sound, but you learned to sense where he was. He bent down on his knees in front of you, your eyes looking at his, his gaze locking with yours. His hands came to grip the sides of your face, and you fought your flinch. He sighed the moment his hands came into contact with your cheeks, and then he dug his nails into your skin.
"I love you, don't you understand that?"
You shook your head, tears slipping as you closed your eyes.
"I want to go home," you murmured, voice cracking, missing the way his gaze sharpened, anger simmering just below the surface.
Michael wrapped his arms around you, and your cage tightened.
"You are home."
The following months were harrowing. You weren't allowed outside of the gate, and no matter how much you pleaded, everyone answered to Michael. There were a few times you tried to leave, but each time, you were carried back by a security guard who had no reaction to your kicking or screaming in his ear. They pretended that they couldn't hear you crying and begging. Their eyes simply looked right through you as if you didn't exist unless you tried to escape.
Every time you'd shed a tear, Michael was there. His hands gently wiped away your tears, no matter how much you twisted and turned to stop his hands from touching you. He finally stopped trying to comfort you when you slapped his hands away in a fit of rage. You hated the way you felt guilty at the hurt that entered his eyes and bit your lip on the apology that sat right on the tip of your tongue.
That didn't stop him from trying to keep things..." normal," but you were determined to make a stand, in whatever way you could. At first, you refused to speak to him, sleep in the same room, or allow him to touch you. You rebuffed every offer he gave, and soon he left you alone, content to simply watch you struggle. Even when you yelled at him and pushed him away, he never fought back or yelled. He simply watched; his eyes lingered on you, following your every move, and yet he made no move to speak or touch. You cursed yourself for not believing your friends when they called him manipulative. You had no one to turn to. So you stayed, but the longer you went without touch or company, the lonelier you became. It kept you up at night. Instead of sleeping, you walked around the house. Your footsteps were silent, and often the only sound you'd hear was your own breathing. After months of silence, you longed to speak to anyone; it had become unbearable. So, one day, when he came back from a meeting, you finally caved and asked how his day went. His eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he didn't question why you spoke to him. He treated it as a normal occurrence. Then it happened again.
And again.
And again.
You still refused to let him touch you, and you refused to sleep in the same room, but eventually, you were back to having full conversations again. He'd begun to call when he was out, and you shuddered violently when you noticed that it was almost exactly like the beginning of your relationship all over again. That realization made you want to stop, but the mere thought of going back to that suffocating silence was enough to send your heart racing.
Michael thought your rebellion was adorable. He wanted to act normal; he thought that if he showed you that nothing had changed, you'd eventually realize that you overreacted, but you did the opposite. You tried to escape; you refused to talk or let him touch you or sleep with him. You slapped his hand away when he tried to comfort you; you pushed and yelled, so he gave you what you wanted. Instead, he watched you. He watched as the silence and isolation started to wear you down. He listened as you crept from the guest room and walked around, unable to get a full night's rest. He watched the way you perked up the minute he came home because that meant you weren't completely alone. He knew it was only a matter of time before you broke, and when you finally caved, your voice was like sweet music to his ears.
Still, you refused to let him touch you. You kept sleeping in the guest room, but Michael was patient. He called, he talked, and he made you laugh on a few occasions. He watched as you struggled between needing conversation and wanting to stay away. He was more than content to let you decide the pace. He'd get what he wanted in the end. He always did.
Weeks passed by, and the more you talked to Michael, the more you craved his touch. You held out for as long as you could until one night, you finally managed to fall asleep, only to be awoken by a dream that served as both a nightmare and an awakening.
You were alone. There was no one around you. You walked along empty streets surrounded by abandoned buildings, except that everything looked as it should. No broken windows, no trash in the street, no broken-down cars. It was as if everyone tidied up and then left. You continued to walk until you heard your name being called. Cautiously, you made your way towards the sound, and as it got closer, you recognized the voice.
It was Michael. At first, you slowed down, your steps faltering. You looked around, hoping to find someone else, but the streets and buildings remained empty. His voice called to you again, and so you continued on your way. Turning a corner, he sat on the ledge of a fountain. He turned his head toward you and smiled that boyish smile of his that you took so much time memorizing.
"Hey, mama," he said gently. Pushing himself up, he made his way to you, grabbing your hands and pressing them to his lips.
"Where is everyone?"
Michael looked around and shrugged. "It's just us. We're the only ones here. Just as it should be."
You shook your head and ripped your hands out of his.
"No, no, no, no, no," you said over and over again, only stopping when you heard the disappointed sigh. Looking up, you were met with Michael frowning down at you.
"You've been alone your whole life girl. Your biological parents abandoned you. Your adopted parents stopped loving you. Every previous boyfriend treated you like a burden, preferring to find excitement somewhere else." Michael began to list off the people in your life that have forsaken you. One hand gently played with your hair, twirling your curls around a finger.
"Stop," you whispered. You didn't want to hear this.
"You had to take on the role of a mother to your friends, just so you could continue to feel useful, and still, the minute you disagreed with them, they left you too," he mercilessly reminded you, cooing when you whimpered.
"Your job demanded so much from you. It exhausted you, and you liked it for a while, but the reason you stopped caring wasn't because of me. It was because you finally experienced the one thing you never had."
"Please," your voice cracked as you held back a sob. It was just a dream...a horrible dream.
You felt Michael lift your chin. His face had softened into pity and concern.
"You finally have someone who puts you first. You have everything you could ever want with me. You could help charities and homeless shelters. You could donate to orphanages. You could leave for more than just a night at the club. You have someone at home who loves you. Every inch of you. Why would you want to throw that away?"
"I'm losing myself..." you murmured.
"You're becoming who you've always meant to be," Michael replied. You looked at him, your tears blurring your vision.
"Stop fighting it," he whispered, and something in you broke or shattered or crumbled. You couldn't tell what the sensation was, but it didn't matter. You felt yourself nod, and then Michael's lips were on your own.
You woke up abruptly and lay in your cold bed. Your dream played in your head on repeat. You were so tired, you realized. So tired of denying him. You had nothing and no one except for Michael, who wouldn't leave you...
Who wouldn't allow you to leave him.
You pulled yourself out of your bed and made your way down the hallway, stopping in front of what used to be your bedroom. Hesitantly, you knocked on the door and waited for Michael to answer it. It was moments later that the door opened and the sleepy face of Michael appeared before you. If he was shocked, he didn't show it. He merely stepped aside and let you in.
He wasn't surprised to see you there. He always knew that it was a matter of time before you caved in. He side-stepped and allowed you to come in, which you did with no hesitation. Once you were inside, he closed the door and came up behind you, wrapping his hands around your middle. He turned his head into your neck, taking a deep inhale of your scent, groaning before sucking on your skin. Oh, how he missed the feel of your skin on his.
"I've missed you," he whispered, and you shivered at the feel of his breath on your skin, closing your eyes. He smiled slightly at your reaction, glad to have confirmation that he wasn't the only one touch-starved. He buried himself back in your neck, your scent overwhelming him, and he felt the prickles of heat building in his stomach.
"I've missed you too," came your quiet reply.
"Would you let me touch you?"
Your eyes opened, and you turned your head to look at him. He didn't look expectant but patient, and you knew he'd back off if you said no. While you knew it wasn't the smartest idea, you weren't feeling particularly smart, so you nodded. He wasted no time, attaching his mouth to your neck and suckling on your skin.
You tasted divine on his tongue; his eyes fluttered with the pleasure that was rapidly filling his dick, straining it against his pants. He felt your breathing begin to pick up, and he fought the urge to smirk at how fast you gave in. He took one hand and gently squeezed your breasts, pinching your nipple between his fingers, rolling it until it got hard. He did the same with your other breast before kneading them both, his mouth still attached to your neck.
Your breathing had picked up; the pleasure from his ministrations caused your head to fog up. You lost time as clothes were removed, your mind coming back online as he laid you down on the bed. You had never been naked in front of him before. There was always your underwear and bra acting as some sort of wall, but now they were gone, and you felt your slick run down as he teased your folds with his fingers.
"So wet for me," he murmured, his fingers dipping in and out but never fully going in.
"Beautiful." He watched transfixed as your pussy tried to keep his fingers inside, licking the corner of his mouth to catch the drool that started to drip.
"Michael," you moaned, squirming your hips, trying in vain to get him to finger you. "Please."
He groaned and pushed his fingers into you fully. The way you begged scratched a part of his brain that had been denied for so long. The way you arched your back and your slick ran down his wrist made him so hard, it was painful at this point.
He removed his fingers from your soaked pussy and put his wet fingers around his dick; the slickness made the slide of his hand that much smoother.
You lifted your head and unconsciously licked your lips at the sight of him jacking himself off, his eyes locked on the way your hole quivered.
He scooted closer to you, dick still in hand, and you startled when you felt it touch your lips.
"Michael, we can't," you moaned as he rubbed his dick over your folds. "We promised."
Michael nodded absentmindedly, but you could tell his mind wasn't in the moment.
"I know, ma," he said, licking his lips, eyes still locked on your quivering hole.
"Just the tip, baby. Just the tip. Please mama?"
You closed your eyes at his begging. Your resolve to wait until marriage would crumble if he kept this up. You knew it. Trying to stop him, you grabbed his face and mushed your lips together, sucking on his bottom lip, but that did nothing to deter him.
"Please, please, please," he begged against your lips, making it worse because you could feel his desperation through your lips. Michael broke the kiss, leaning down so his mouth was right beside your ear.
"I just wanna be in you, baby," Michael whispered, his breath tickling your ear, and you shuddered with goosebumps that lined your spine.
"Imagine it. Feeling me inside you, connecting us like that. It'll be just the tip," he said again, moving his lips down the side of your neck, gently grazing your skin with his teeth.
"Imagine it," he mouthed, and by God, you did.
"Okay," you nodded, licking your chapped lips.
"Just...just the tip."
Slowly, Michael positioned his dick right at your entrance, grabbing your chin and making you look down at where it sat. He rubbed his dick up, flicking your clit once and then once more before he began to push in.
Your breath caught at the feeling. It didn't hurt necessarily, but the feeling caused your pussy to clench and leak even more. You could feel your fluids steadily flowing out, even around his head, but it left you deeply unsatisfied. There was an ache in your belly that wanted to be soothed. You warred with yourself for a full minute before you felt that resolve shatter.
You looked up at Michael and found him already staring at you. A dazed look in his expression.
"...does it feel good for you?"
Michael nodded quickly. "So good. So good."
"Can you...Is this enough?"
Michael hesitated and then shook his head. His jaw clenched tightly.
You licked your lips, nodding to yourself. "You can put it in more."
Without preamble, Michael pushed his cock all the way in; your scream and his groan rang out in the otherwise quiet room in tandem.
You had to clench your eyes shut against the pain. You weren't expecting him to do that, but now his dick sat heavy in you, surrounded by your gummy walls. You whimpered every time you felt it throb, the sensation overriding the pain faster than you realized. It was perfect when the pain subsided. He fits you like you were made for him.
"So wet, so tight. Oh god," Michael breathed as if experiencing heaven for the first time. You looked at him through lidded eyes and swore he was an angel. His skin was shiny with sweat, his head thrown back so you could see the perfect line of his throat.
He was right. He always is. The connection you felt was...there were no words.
"You're in," you moaned. His dick filled you up deliciously. Your eyes fluttered as you clenched around him, and his hips gave an aborted push, and you choked on your next breath. He slowly circled his hips, not pumping but stimulating your walls. Your mouth fell open with drool falling from your lips to your chin, but you couldn't be bothered to wipe it off or care all that much about it.
Michael bent down to lick your drool, dragging his tongue from your chin to the side of your mouth before sucking your tongue into his.
Slowly, he began to pump his hips, his pelvis making contact with your clit. With each contact of his hips, your moans increased in volume.
"Fuck," he hissed. Lifting himself, he grabbed onto your hips with a bruising grip, bringing you closer to him. The change in angle caused your back to arch as his dick pushed against that bump.
"Michael!!"
"There it is." He grinned and aimed, so he hit that spot every time. The wet squelch of your pussy was like music to his ears.
He watched with lidded eyes as you lost control, your legs beginning to shake and your eyes rolling in the back of your head. He wanted, no, needed to see your face up close as you got closer to cumming. Leaning over you, he grabbed the back of your hair, balling it into a fist so he could control the movement of your head.
"Look at me." He commanded, and your body obeyed immediately. Opening your eyes, you met Michael's gaze and his shark-like grin.
"You're gonna look at me while you cum on my dick. Keep those eyes open."
With that, his hips began an impossible pace, causing the headboard to smack against the wall. You fought to keep your eyes open, but each time his dick entered you, the pleasure was so intense, you were fighting a losing battle.
Against your will, your eyes squeezed shut and immediately shot back open when Michael yanked your hair.
"I said, 'Look at me."
His grip on your hair caused a delicious pairing of pain and pleasure. As you kept your eyes on Michael, he leaned closer until your noses touched.
"This makes you mine," he whispered, his breath ghosting on the skin of your lips.
"I'm going to cum inside you, baby. Fill you up, like you're meant to be."
You began to say yes until his words caught up with the fog in your brain.
"You can't cum inside Mike," you hiccupped when he gave a particularly sharp thrust.
"No co-condom." Your words stuttered as you felt your climax approaching like a predator hunting its prey.
"You'll have my babies, won't you?" Michael asked. His own orgasm was just around the corner. He had you in every way but marriage, and he'd have you this way too.
Your back arched and your toes curled at his words. Unbidden, the image of you pregnant entered your mind. Your belly, swollen with Michael's child, was such a tempting thought, and you tried to tell him to pull out, but your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, shoving him in deeper.
"You like that, ma?" Michael smirked. He caught your reaction when he mentioned you having his babies. He wanted that. He wanted to see your belly grow as your child grew. He longed to see your stomach covered in stretch marks, a permanent reminder that you bore something of his.
He pumped his hips faster, smacking against yours. Your walls clenched tightly on him as you finally orgasmed, and he whined at the tightness as he flooded your walls with his cum.
He grabbed your face and brought his lips to you. You couldn't kiss him back, too lost in pleasure, but he made do by sucking on your tongue, his hips still pumping, milking himself dry.
Finally, his hips stopped moving, and he lay himself gently on you, his body serving as a weighted blanket. You breathed heavily and let your legs fall, a small moan slipping past your lips as your movement caused his dick to shift positions inside you. Heat traveled up to your face when you felt his cum slosh around inside your walls.
Michael's hand came to rub your belly, and dread made a home in your chest when you realized what happened.
"Oh god," you whimpered, covering your eyes with your hands.
"We shouldn't have done that."
Michael removed your hands and kissed your eyelids. "It's okay mama," he purred.
"It doesn't matter if you have my baby now. We have all the time to try again."
Neverland was full of Michael's friends and family. As it turned out, you did get pregnant, and Michael was ecstatic. His treatment of you didn't change. He was still sweet and caring and gentle, but now everything carried a sort of reverence for you. It was as if your mere existence was a blessing, and while he became overbearingly protective, you were content. You never did make up with your friends, and your job was lost to you, but as time slipped by and Michael gave you more freedom, you helped with homeless shelters and volunteered at children's hospitals. The media gobbled up any sighting of you, and once your belly bump made itself known and the world knew Michael Jackson was going to be a father, it sent everyone spiraling down a hole of insanity, and soon, you became accustomed to the walls of Neverland.
This time it didn't bother you as much. You had enough experience to guide you through it. This time, there was no loneliness or silence, especially since Katherine had moved in briefly to help you. Michael insisted, saying that a mother figure would help with any anxiety far better than he would. You relented after a while; the longing for a mother that never faded reared its head and planted itself upon your shoulder.
As for the baby, once it had developed enough to learn its gender, a baby shower was in the works. He planned your baby shower with the strategic force of a general and the energy of a puppy. It was there that he staked his final claim in front of everyone he held closest to his heart.
"Marry me."
You stared at him as he bent down on one knee. His eyes glossy, his smile shaky. He was nervous. He had you exactly where he wanted you, and he was still nervous. Anxious. Afraid you'd say no. Afraid that you'd deny him.
He loved you. He only wanted to give you everything you've ever wanted. All he asked for was little in comparison.
How could you have denied him? Why did you fight him for so long? This man. This beautiful, wonderful man.
"Yes," you whispered, answering his shaky smile with one of your own.
Distantly, you heard the claps and the whistles, but as he picked you up in his arms and twirled you around, all you could hear was his laughter.
When he finally put you down and placed his forehead against yours, you focused on the sound of your heartbeat, and you knew that if you were to place your hand against his chest, yours would finally match his.
Mature! Michael would stay a little longer after you put the kids to bed, just to spend some more quality time with you. Which never ends up going his way, since you always try to kick him out as quickly as possible by making up excuses that'd make him want to leave. "Michael, I'm pretty tired and it's getting pretty late. You should be heading home," while fake yawning to make it more believable. But the excuses never work on him because he always catches on pretty quickly when you're lying to him instead it makes him to want to stay longer just to annoy you.
Mature! Michael who always asks you if you and him could get back together for the sake of your kids or rather his sake. You both can be having a good time together with your kids. Then, he would go on to ruin the moment by asking you to be his girl again. "Please, mama come be with me. It'd make our children more than happy to see us back together," with pleading eyes. You couldn't help but feel irritated each time he brought this topic up. Especially, right in front of your kids. "Not right now, Michael."
Mature! Michael will immediately get possessive anytime you bring a man over to your house without notifying him first. The only reason he figures something like that out is because his kids tell him everything. "Y/N, how could you bring a stranger around our kids without letting me know? The fact that my kids had to tell me such information speaks a lot by itself," cornering you near the wall. "I can bring whoever I like into my house Michael, you don't control me," attempting to push him out of your way, which failed miserably, his eyes only darkened. "You're mine y/n. Nobody will ever steal you away from me, remember that," warning you before leaving.
Mature! Michael who would ghost you for weeks if you were to do something he doesn't appreciate. Yes, he's petty and has no shame showing exactly that. He'd randomly show up one day in front of your doorstep, asking to see his kids while talking to you like he hasn't been ghosting you for weeks straight making you furious. You were spamming him nonstop demanding about his whereabouts and he now wants to reveal his presence after you've almost lost your mind.
Mature! Michael will act as if your house is also his home. Leaving his belongings there any chance he gets, so you'd remember him and know that he's not going anywhere anytime soon. At first, it was by accident leaving a few small things here and there but then he started doing it on purpose just to have a reason to come to your house to see you again. When also trying to make his presence in your life very permanent.
Mature! Michael would come to your house unannounced to surprise both you and your kids. He'd never come empty handed, bringing toys for his kids and flowers for you. You try to act unbothered by such a small gesture but someway, somehow he always makes your heart melt. Turning around to put the flowers in a vase as you widely smile at them with so much joy, he noticed every time. Seeing you smile motivates him in so many ways that you can’t even imagine.
Mature! Michael who would call you in the middle of the night. Drunk out of his mind to tell you how much he misses you and how bad he messed up, while begging you to forgive him for all the mistakes he has made. Hoping you'd take him back. "Mama…pleaseeeee give me one more chance. I promise I won't disappoint you this time. I can't live without you," hearing this made your heart sink each time. Always calling you up after you finally healed from the wounds that he caused.
Mature! Michael will always try to find a way to get under your skin and it works wonders each time. He absolutely loves seeing you mad, it low-key turns him on a lot. Hearing you yell at him as you crossed your arms, looking at him sternly before leaving the room annoyed out of your mind causing him to apologize. "I'm sorry, ma" attempting to chase you.
Mature! Michael will instantly show interest in you once you finally moved on from him. Suddenly, showing up anytime he can to your house. Telling you he's there to see his children but in reality it's to make sure that your new partner knows that he's very much still involved while touching you more than usual to notify your partner that he won't be replacing him anytime soon.
Mature! Michael who still acts like both of you are still in a relationship. Whenever you confront him about it, he tries to act clueless when telling you he's just looking out for his children and how you should stop overthinking things.
Michael can’t stand being interrupted—especially by you his girlfriend, “you should know better.”
Michael honestly wanted to leave immediately, he understood you got excited about things, loved speaking about what if situations and just overall very talkative but this was truly unacceptable—you were practically pretending his presence wasn’t known.
“Wait Michael tell them about the little costume incident.” You snicker, eyes flying to your boyfriend’s face, jaw clenched, his hand was behind your chair, eyes off somewhere. You didn’t pay any mind. “Michael.” You snap your hands in his face. The hell is wrong with you? He thought to himself why were you acting so—different, no public etiquette, he let out an irritated sigh.
“Well, I was backstage getting ready, I had to go on in five minutes and my—“ You interrupt him, “his costume ripped!” You blurted, “But he made it look good I don’t know how, ugh I was soo pissed off—he pulls anything off, he’s like my inspiration.” Laughter erupted around the table. You two were attending an afterparty for your sister after a wedding. He never felt so humiliated honestly.
You frowned a bit as you met eyes with Michael, he looked real upset, maybe it was because you two had been out for awhile, it did start near noon and it was practically midnight. “Ready to go?” You whisper to Michael and he only hums in response. He stands up, hand out for you to take and you do.
You stand up, smoothing your dress, “it was nice meeting you all! I really want to see your horses! You should let me ride them sometime next week,” you smile waving them off. Michael cleared his throat with a small wave and grabbed your waist his grip firm.
He opens the back door for you, sliding in afterwards as bill pulls out the driveway. You turn to your boyfriend, hand finding his. “Did you have fun?” His gaze lingers out the window. “Mic-“ he interrupts you. “Did I have fun?” He laughs and it’s so very sarcastic.
You immediately get defensive, “what the hell is your problem Michael?” You let go of his hand, which he quickly takes it back into his hold. “Just ‘cause I’m mad don’t mean let go of my hand.” He murmurs, “and you don’t get to be mad, you had yourself some fun, right? glad you did.”
Once you two had arrived home you avoided him at all costs, sure maybe you were being stubborn but he was being an ass—stalling you on what was truly wrong with him. You just got done showering, Towel wrapped around your body as you darted towards the bedroom expecting Michael to be in the guest tonight, he always lets you take the room when you two argue.
You huff, attitude obvious. “Come here.” He was sat on the edge of the bed patting his lap, You ignore his gesture grabbing your things to sleep in the guest room. “Y/n.” Your name—he hardly ever called you by your name. “What?” You throw the things on the ground—fed up with whatever games he was attempting to play at.
“I don’t understand you Michael—I thought we were having fun, did something else happen? And you’re taking it out on me.” The towel slowly started slipping. “Don’t bother fixing that.” He was now standing, footsteps striding to you and before you knew it, he took you by the waist and threw you over the shoulder and flopping you onto the large and freshly made bed.
He practically rips the towel from your hold leaving you bare naked as his eyes scanned you all over. “Play with yourself.” And honestly, you couldn’t even play coy anymore, whenever he got mad—it kinda turned you on. Your breath hitched, “wh—what?” your lip trembles.
“Play with yourself baby.” His gaze hovered as you slowly started toying with your nipples, he bit his bottom lip, he wanted nothing then to put you through the mattress right this second but—he was more reserved than you ever would be.
As your hands drifted over your body, he pulled up a chair and sat in front of you, eyes filled with hunger and want. “I just could not believe it, mama.” He started, he took his hand sliding it across your thigh before quickly pulling away. You crossed your legs over each other wanting some type of friction—he wouldn’t leave you like this would he?
“You know I can’t stand being interrupted, you out of all people and I just kept wondering—thinking to myself, what is my girl playing at?” His eyebrows furrowed in genuine confusion, confused with your actions. Since he was so close to the bed, he pulls your legs forward causing you to yelp, his mouth is face to face with your soaked cunt, he spits on it and your breath hitches, feeling his breath fan over you.
“Start.” He demands. You being at loss for words begin, one finger at first, testing the waters— “two.” he demands pointing at your hand. “two fingers baby—if ya can’t take yourself you’re not gonna be able to take me tonight hm? if—I decide to help my lady out.” He watches, elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.
You did what he asked curling your two fingers inside. “Why—“ you begin to speak, whimpers flowing freely from your shaky lips, he interrupts you. “Doesn’t feel too good to get interrupted does it? And—not being able to reach what your body really needs, especially, when what you need is watching you.” He teases, a small snicker leaving his mouth.
“You interrupted me all day baby—kinda made me sad.” He frowns— “Felt like I wasn’t even there, like I was a decoration.” You let out a whiny cry, picking up the pace after you found your sweet spot. “Mic—Michael.” You whimper, “please—“ his gaze wavers. “Please what?”
“Help me out.” You squeak, starting to squirm on the bed, eventually on your side now grinding on whatever made you felt good even if it was just for a few seconds. You didn’t have a clue on how he felt all day, you were just so, excited. “Hmm.” He leans back. “I feel so—so hurt.” He teases. You let out a whiny moan, rolling back onto your back you lift your head up catching a glance of his face. He was enjoying this.
“Alright.” He caves, hovering over you he spreads your legs wide. “Let’s see if she’s ready for me.” He jokes, he gets on his knees lapping his tongue around your puffed up pussy. “You did good.”
“Unbuckle my belt.” He demands, you crawl on your hands and knees towards the edge of the bed taking his belt off, your eyes brimming over with tears. He flips you over onto your stomach but you don’t get to shift comfortably before he pulls you by the waist his tip teasing your entrance before slamming into you.
“Unghhh!” You whimper, his breath was heavy, leaning down pressing kisses onto your neck as he started fucking you dumb. “Michael—“ you groan words getting stuck in your throat. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for interrupting you all day—I—“ his pace slows, “ ‘s okay baby—but you know how I feel about being interrupted now more than ever right?” Before you could nod his pace quickens up again.
“You feel so good when you’re remorseful.” He whispers into your ear, “so damn good.” You feel yourself at your climax as you try to run away from his cock that was stuffing you dumb, “unt unt—almost—baby ya gonna let me cum inside of you?” He feels your walls clench against his dick, causing him to let out a satisfied groan. “yes c-cum inside of me.”
He feels your warmness spill over his cock, “ahh.” you feel a sense of release. “Mmmh.” He fills your insides with his warm seeds, panting he immediately rolls onto his back and you follow suite. “fuck you.” you huff, out of breath. “yeah? sounds like you want a round two, hm?” He teases pulling you in by the waist. “Did so good.” He kisses your forehead. “The mess we made.” He murmurs to himself, letting out a laugh.
You place your hands on his face, turning it to you. “I’d like for you to tell me when you feel a type of way Michael.” You press a kiss onto his nose. Then his cheek, and neck. “Yeah?” He starts, then he places a kiss onto your lips. “This was funner anyways.”
bye I was writing this half asleep forgive me for it is NOT proofread and most likely doesn’t make any sense 😭 (omg guys also lmk if yall want me to start putting warnings before the smut causeee I be getting carried away lol
werewolf!Mikey but it’s not full moon don’t worry, he got turned a short while ago. Very ooc but becomes more himself after he’s inside you 🙈, dumbification ig you kinda go into a coma, werewolf cock, is this classified as monsterfucking ???, consensual but not necessarily safe or sane he’s REALLY big, my first time writing smut be nice pls, established relationship, BLACK FEM READER BY BLACK FEMWRITER, usage of the n word, and also first time writing a romance fic, oral (f!) receiving, he bites you but you don’t turn cause it’s not the full moon, feral!Mikey at the start
WORD COUNT: idk I did this on notes sorry
Water fell from the dark sky in slinking sheets, heavy and full as lies stuffed into a mouth. Your face twisted into a grimace as the weather only grew more tempestuous with age. You carried on with your nightly routine, using your more expensive products to invigorate your spirits.
The sweet, cloudy aroma of tonka and buttercream swirled around your body once you were ready for the night. You tied your headscarf and bonnet, moaning at the feeling of freshly done hair caressed by the satin. MTV was on, “White Wedding” dominating the setlist. Your body hummed and swayed to the chilling thrum of the notes. You stood up—no longer satisfied with languishing in the thunderous evening—and began to truly dance.
Your legs and arms sinuously fell into a groove, losing yourself to the music. Michael had been in the studio for days at a time, only coming home to Encino for short spaces to ‘breathe and recollect’ and then he was off again, arduously thrilling his body and vocal nerves to be what could only be described as an instrument of Mother Nature. You missed your boyfriend so much you could no longer sleep in his bedroom at Encino, too burdened by his absence, and quickly returned to your apartment.
Turbulent knocks pounded at your door, nearly splitting the wood. “What the fuck?” You shrieked, your body locked with fear. It could be a thug, a murderer, a burglar. Some beast. “Don’t hurt me!” You said, voice thickly burdened with terror. Underneath the constant abuse of the door, a faint purring could be heard..? No, it was more of a thrum, as if it came from the ground.
Like it was fused with nature, an instrument of—
“Michael?”
It couldn’t be Michael. Your boyfriend was not boisterous enough nor strong enough to be nearly knocking down your door. But you could faintly feel his energy, although it was obfuscated by something. Perhaps the door. The assault on the door ceased, leaving you in ear-splitting silence.
“Sweet girl, lemme in.” Came a long, drawn out coo.
You marched to the door, eyes blazing in pure anger, because what sort of boyfriend almost ruins the sole barrier of privacy you have in your apartment at the dead of night after not hearing from him in days?
You undid the locks hastily, heart climbing to your throat. But you didn’t open the door.
“Michael is that you?” You questioned. Something was afoot.
“Who else would it be, baby? Any other men come to your door at night? Now open the door, please. I’m freezing.”
Now that he had spoken for longer, you were sure of it. Whatever nigga was back there did not have the voice of your Michael.
You hummed, “You sound different. You sure that’s Michael back there?”
“Pretty girl, it’s me. My voice sounds different because it’s been straining for some notes all day. Come on, I love you.” Michael spat the word love out like it was foreign. But it was all too familiar. You two had been dating for five years now.
“Say it then.” You said, your heart pounding.
“Say what, sweet thing?”
“Say you’re Michael.”
“Oh for crying out loud! I’ve been up for three days straight working on my album, and the only thing in the world I want is to see your beautiful face again. But no, there has to be an interrogation before I come in. Baby, you know who it is. Open this door and find out.” Michael’s voice was different, you were sure of it. Not only was it deeper, but the aura behind it was…more sinister than it had ever been.
But you were sure that he had not known the gentle embrace of sleep for days, and he had likely checked Encino before coming here, and it was two hours away. You worried your lip, biting into it whilst you were in deep thought. What were you doing? Just because his voice sounded different didn’t mean it was Michael, and you were being exceedingly rude the longer you kept him waiting.
You opened the door, and immediately your breath caught. Michael dashed in so quickly it made your head spin. Whilst you were still looking at the vacant space in front of the door, he had dashed in.
“Mic-“ You began, only to realise he was right behind you, sniffing you like a dog. “Are you okay baby? I’m sorry I took so long to let you in I don’t know what got into me.” You quelled your odd paranoia and hugged him. Michael dug his face into your neck and he was smelling you very loudly.
“I got a new perfume, y’know I hope you like it.” You smiled. You knew damn well he loved it. His curved smile dissolved to a wet sensation and then hardened again when he bit you harshly.
You screamed in pain, attempting to remove yourself from him, but you might as well have been pushing a brick wall. He was stagnant, rigid and about as malleable as a mountain.
“Nigga what the fuck are you doing? I don’t smell that good.”
Your words fell on deaf ears, Michael still sucking on your wound with all the hunger of a man starved in the desert. He moaned in pure elation, and you were sure his eyes were dilated. He finally came up for air and wiped his mouth with a grin.
You do smell that good. Taste even better.”
You studied him quizzically. He was definitely acting weird. But you chalked it up to lack of sleep. “Okay. Don’t pull that shit again. Save it for the bedroom or something.” You acquiesced, moving past him to get some Chinese from the microwave. There were three full racks of sticky ribs and two cartons of chilli, prawns and noodles. It was too much food for you to eat alone and you were glad Michael had come.
“How have you been, all those long hours at the studio? I have some food for you if you’re hungry. You came right on time. We can watch a movie.” You said, and you continued to babble to him about all sorts. How his knocking had been so scary, and when did he get so strong, how much you’d missed him and you’d been spraying his cologne over your pillow at night.
You retrieved the food from the kitchen and set it down in front of him at the table.
“I’m not that hungry and you must be. I know you don’t eat that well whilst you’re recording.”
With a nearly savage glint in his eye, Michael assure you he was famished. He ate as if he had never seen food before. He ate the three full racks of ribs in two minutes, shoving them down and letting the bone crack sickeningly in his throat before swallowing it up. His table manners had become practically canine since you had last seen him.
You attributed it to simple hunger and let him eat. Then he moved on to the noodles and opened his mouth wide. Were his teeth so sharp since you had last seen him. And they certainly weren’t so large. And there was no way in heel there were that many of them. But your inspection of his mouth lasted a second as he had soon ploughed through all of the food. As he stared at the first empty box, you swore a deluge of saliva fell from his long canines and his long tongue which waited beneath his long teeth.
Michael licked his lips and rose to wash his hands. You stared at his back. When did he get so tall? He had to be past six feet, although you knew your Mikey was nine inches past five feet.
“I hope you enjoyed it, Mikey. Do you wanna watch Alice in Wonderland or Cinderella?” You questioned, remote already in hand.
He hummed deeply and it was so loud you swore it reverberated through the floor boards. “Do you wanna do something else? How about…we go to bed?”
You didn’t miss his sly undertone. This was unusual. Every time Michael came back from a hard day at work, the only thing he wanted to do was cuddle on the couch and watch a movie. He always fell asleep though, and it had become something of an unsaid tradition.
You on the other hand had always missed him, and missed lovemaking. But he needed to rest and you were too happy to oblige. But you would never miss a chance to show Mikey all your love.
“Yeah, we should go to bed.” You returned his tone. He was approaching you now, eyes alight with desire.
He picked you up with one hand, and carried you quickly to the bedroom. You giggled, face burning with an adolescent-like warmth. “When did you get so strong?” Michael could pick you up before, albeit with two arms straining or easily on his back, yet now he carried you as if you weighed nothing at all.
“When did you smell so good?” Michael threw you onto the bed with more force than usual, but you were so entranced by his newfound strength you giggled again like a schoolgirl. Michael tugged your sleep shorts down your legs and you felt his hot breath roll over your sex. He leant in and sniffed you again.
I could smell her from the other side of the door.” He purred deeply in his chest and began to devour you. His large hands spread your lips and his jaw opened to have you completely inside his mouth. It was hot and wet inside his mouth, and his tongue, thick and long as ever, began to nudge and worry your pearl, teasing it.
Your nerves were practically bursting. His tongue felt like a cock. You were moaning loudly. “Mikey—when did you—when did you get so good at this?” He was fucking you with his tongue. You could feel five inches of heat enter you, then quickly slip out again and begin to slurp. You squirmed trying to flee from the sensation that stimulated every inch of you at the same time, but Michael simply removed his hands—paws, really, they were larger than life—from your hips and moved them to your waist, effectively pinning you.
Michael began to tantalise your pearl again, and the feeling of your sex entirely engulfed by his large maw, paired with his tongue being long and skilled enough to qualify as penetrative intercourse made you see stars. Your soft hands laced through his curls as your hips bucked further into his mouth. You were riding his tongue with vigour, livened by the way you could see him lengthening and thickening in his pants.
You were sure it was the heat of the moment, but he seemed nearly as long as your arm. It had to be a simple trick of the light. “Oh, Mikey, m’gonna—“ You came like a flood into his mouth.
He didn’t stop.
He kept on abusing your sex, licking and prodding and intruding, drawing out more and more pleasure. He fucked you through your orgasm, and drew out another. And another. And another.
You must have been at it for hours, because he ate you alive. Tears soaked into your cheeks and made a path down the bite on your neck. You had pleaded with Michael that the pleasure was too much. You had to be in the double digits now, and he finally showed signs of slowing.
His face rose slowly and you yelped. The entire bottom half of his face and neck was wet and slick with your juices. It was a thick mask of near translucent white, dripping and dripping. Michael licked his lips hungrily.
M’sorry, you taste like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. You can’t blame me. It’s hard to stop once you’re around something like that. Something like you.” Michael murmured a weak apology as his hands worked furiously at his belt. He then moved to shrug off the rest of your clothes and the second your breasts were free, he dug his face into them and nuzzled his nose between them.
“So warm, and soft and—“ Michael’s voice lowered to a deep moan, and his tongue licked at your dark, hardened nubs as his face smeared your juices all over your tits.
“You’re a work of art.” Michael buried his face in them one more time before he stopped. He looked at you longingly and blushed, suddenly shy. It reeked of artifice.
“I’ve been…well. Since you’ve last seen me I’ve grown. It’s so embarrassing to talk about.” He briefly buried his face in his hands before peeking at you through his fingers. “Lemme just show you.”
He fully took off his pants and his boxers and standing higher than should be humanly possible was a monster. It was brown, and littered with paler patches of skin, with a fat mushroom head that leaned to the right. That was familiar to you. What was not familiar was the sheer size of it. So your eyes had not been playing tricks on you.
It was only three or so inches shorter than your forearm, and almost as thick. The tip was flushed mauve and seemed angry. Your mouth was open in pure shock.
“Michael! That can’t go inside me. You’d rip me apart.” You protested.
“Okay. I understand. It’s fine.” He was disappointed and his eyes faintly shone with tears. Michael seemed as if he was expecting that answer. He took his lip between his teeth and picked up his boxers.
He had just prioritised your pleasure for hours, and whilst that amount of foreplay was necessary for a cock that huge, you still split you open with only your happiness on his mind. You felt bad.
“Okay, okay! Just the tip. Just the tip and we’ll see how that goes. I want you to feel good, Mikey.” You said. His eyes lit up and he shimmed out of his boxers once more, although being faced with that beastly thing again made your stomach churn with fear.
“Thank you, I’ll be so gentle, I promise I will.” Michael cooed, any trace of sadness now gone. He crudely scooped the slick from your breasts and onto his cock, pumping himself whilst his eyes were locked on your hole, face the picture of need.
You shut your eyes as he climbed onto the bed, afraid. You felt the fat of his cockhead lining itself up against your folds yet he quickly found your entrance. “Baby, I’m going in.” He said. The round flesh strained inside despite your looseness from the previous activity. “You’re so tight…” Michael groaned.
“Mikey, is that really just the tip?” It was too big. He stilled inside you for a moment and ravaged you with his eyes. “Sweet thing, would I lie to you?” He assured you, that energy from before returning. But his thick cock was just bullying your little alley, demanding all the space in the world, and any sort of cognitive thought vanished like catching smoke with your bare hands.
He was really pushing in now and your mouth was open, relishing and recoiling from the passionate blend of pleasure and pain. “You can take it, baby. You’re doing so well, we’re almost halfway in.”
Halfway in? It felt like he was splitting you apart and he wasn’t even halfway? You sucked air between your teeth and you were going to order him to still his movement, but Mikey was making you feel so good a long moan escaped your throat instead.
He was everywhere: his sweat mingled with yours, his curls brushed your face, his biceps caged you in, his groans and whimpers filled the air, and his dick was destroying you. You were sure nothing could ever satisfy you again.
“Mama, ohhh, pretty girl—you’re perfect. We’re almost completely in, can you believe it?” Michael babbled.
You could, in fact, believe it. He was gargantuan, a freak of nature. He was still going slow thankfully, but you saw the look in his eye. You weren’t sure how long that would last. Your face burned from his praise which was oddly reminiscent of psychobabble. You squeaked in pain as you felt him fully nestled inside.
That’s all, baby. I’m in. Can you feel me, inside your belly?” He asked, his movements stilled.
You nodded slowly. Your head felt like it was full of cotton. “You…you feel like you’re inside my throat.” And he did. You spoke slowly because it felt like his cock was so long, thick and invasive that he had blocked your throat as well. You blinked dizzily as Michael hiked your knees up to your breasts.
He felt so good you couldn’t even vocalise it. You were trapped inside your mind, whilst his dick completely erased any brain cells you had left. All that was left was Michael. He snickered at your empty eyes, yet so full of emotion and your open mouth. He shoved his fingers into your mouth and marvelled at the fact that you were so fucked out—just from him pushing in—that your throat went slack and he pumped his fingers into and out of you with ease.
He tapped your cheek, once. Then twice. “Baby, come on. Baby. Sweet thing, I’m gonna start moving now.” With your body still contorted to ease his passage, Michael lost control. He pushed in hard and fast and pulled out just as furiously. The bed shook with each thrust as your belly showcased the lewd bulge of his length before it retreated again.
He pressed down on it tenderly and you awoke from your coma. The sensation made your eyes roll back and you let out sounds that would make your face burn in mortification the next day. Yet another orgasm was ripped from you and he continued to plough into you like a beast.
It was as if some animal was wearing Michael’s skin. His eyes were yellow, pupils slotted and his teeth! Oh, his teeth were producing a steady drip of spit from the sharpened edges to your full, heavy breasts. He slammed into you, then withdrew almost completely—if he withdrew completely it would take half an hour to get in again—and then bottomed out once more.
His hips were flush against yours and he panted his breath across your face. “I’m so close. You feel so good I haven’t lasted very long. Sorry.” He apologised.
He had lasted over at least five hours! From when he was leaking precum whilst tongue fucking you, to now shoving himself inside you. This would be his first orgasm of the night. He kissed your errant tears, then moved to kiss the bite on your neck, before suckling on your breasts.
He pounded your hole, his mushroom head flush with the skin of your belly. He pressed down on his length and swirled his fingers around it and then he came. He overflowed your sex with his come. Ropes and ropes of hot, thick fluid glutted your hole. So much of it that it somehow squeezed around his cock, which was fully inside, and began to leak onto the bedsheets.
There was a large pool of come beneath your bodies and even more deep within you. It ran on for minutes. How come he wasn’t done yet? It just kept, on going. The crescent of the moon hung high in the air as if it was mocking you. Stunningly silver, the shine winked at you: a cheeky jester.
“I was all the way in your guts, baby. I mean, thank you.” Michael blabbed on and on, talking about how he only thought of this for a week straight, how he had been so alone in that forest and you were the only thing keeping him sane, he had written a song about you before he was bitten, he was sorry for making such a rude entrance, it was just that he had smelt your juices from outside and it made him so ravenous he couldn’t think straight and that was why he bit you.
Your body was recovering from the fucking, whilst Michael was hardening before he was even fully soft again. “Is it okay if I stay inside for the night? It’s painful when it’s so hard like this and I promise I won’t move.” Michael softly asked.
Flipping through a magazine while sprawled across your bed, you let out a long sigh. Summer break was supposed to be a chance to unwind after another long semester of college, but so far it had been anything but relaxing
Most days your father worked long hours, leaving you stuck at home with your younger siblings. Somehow, despite being the oldest and very much an adult, you’d been unofficially promoted to the family’s full-time babysitter—a role you never asked for
More than anything, you just wanted to be around Michael. Since coming home, you’d only managed to sneak away with him once, but it ended up being one of the best nights you’d had in a long time. Being wined and dined, laughing for hours, and forgetting about everything else was exactly what you needed
The only problem? Michael was an older man… and your father’s boss. Was any of this right? Absolutely not. Did you have any plans on walking away? Hell no
Staying away from Michael was easier said than done. There was something about him that kept pulling you back in. He was effortlessly charming, the kind of man who never had to force anything—his confidence spoke for itself. His flirting was never loud or obvious,it lived in lingering glances, sly smiles, and quiet remarks that only the two of you understood
It felt like the two of you shared a language no one else could hear. There was a confidence that came with his age, a patience and attentiveness that no one you’d ever dated had possessed. Somehow, he always knew exactly what to say, exactly how to make you feel seen
Just then, the sound of your phone ringing pulled you from your thoughts. Without bothering to check the caller ID,especially this late at night,you reached over to your nightstand and answered “Hello?”
“There you are… how’s my baby doin’?”
Instantly, the biggest smile spread across your face. You tucked the phone between your shoulder and ear, unable to hide the excitement in your voice
“Hi, baby,” you gushed, glancing over at the pink alarm clock on your nightstand. “I’m surprised you’re still up… it’s late for you”
“Yeah” Michael murmured, glancing down at the watch on his wrist. “It is pretty late…” He paused for a moment before his voice softened. “But I need to see you”
You bit your lip, your excitement giving way to hesitation. “My dad could be home any minute,” you admitted quietly, lowering your voice “I don’t know if I can sneak out tonight”
“He won’t be,” Michael said with a quiet chuckle.
“I sent him on a little… ‘grocery’ run” The slight smirk in his voice made it obvious there wasn’t a single grocery bag waiting for him 
Michael let out a soft hum before casually changing the subject. “Anyways…” he drawled, a grin creeping onto his face. “What you got on right now?”
“Just a nightgown” you softly reply
“Good, I’ll be there in a few minutes”
The two of you carefully made your way upstairs, doing your best to avoid the loud creaks that echoed through the old wooden steps. Michael stayed close behind you, his eyes lingering a little longer than they probably should have as your nightgown swayed with every step
A quiet grin tugged at his lips while he admired your figure, unable to resist letting his hand briefly brush against the back of your thigh as he passed, hoping to steal even the smallest reaction from you without making a sound
Once inside your room, you quietly locked the door behind you. Michael wasted no time slipping out of his jacket, then his shirt, his movements a little sharper than usual
The way he undressed told you everything—you could tell the night had gotten to him. Letting out a quiet breath, he lifted his eyes to yours before slowly curling his fingers, silently motioning for you to come stand in front of him
“Baby… what’s wrong?” you whispered, your soft hands cradling his face as your thumbs gently caressed his cheeks
Michael remained quiet. His hands drifted absentmindedly along your waist, settling on your hips before tracing slow circles against your sides. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss against your chest, then tilted his head back to look up at you. His eyes searched yours, weighed down by something he hadn’t found the words to say
“Something’s missing from this album,” Michael admitted with a frustrated sigh, shaking his head. “I don’t know what it is… I just know it’s missing something. That’s the part that’s driving me crazy, I can’t put my finger on it”
“I told you the last time you talked to me about this album that you were stressing too much about it, it’ll come to you”
“I told you the last time we talked about this album,” you said softly, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “You’re putting way too much pressure on yourself. Stop trying to force it.” You smiled, hoping to ease the tension on his face. “Whatever’s missing… it’ll come to you when you least expect it.”
A slow, devilish smirk spread across Michael’s face as your last sentence lingered in his mind. He ran his tongue across his lips, trying his best to hide whatever was going through his head
“You’re right,” he murmured.
A moment later, he scooted farther back onto your bed until his back rested comfortably against the wall. Without saying another word, he lifted two fingers and gave you that familiar gesture, silently inviting you to come closer
Slowly you crawled over to him watching his every move as he slowly unbuttoned his pants and undressing himself, understanding what he was motioning you quickly straddled his lap, rubbing your folds against his precum
“I missed you so much” you confessed, yiur voice low as you let out a slow, unsteady breath. “I hate only getting to see you every once in a while”
“I know, Princess… trust me.” Michael exhaled softly, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against your cleavage before resting his forehead against you
“Don’t worry,” he murmured with a small smile. “I’m planning something soon… just the two of us”
“Good…” you murmured, smiling up at him. “Because I need my alone time with you too” You let out a quiet sigh before meeting his eyes. “I’m tired of always having to share you with everybody else”
“I need you so bad right now” he exhaled desperately “sit up for me mama”
Following his instructions you slightly hovered over him, still the two of you looking into each others eyes. But you could feel Michael rubbing his tip back and forth between your folds until he found your entrance, making an “ouuu” sound under his breath
With the force of his hands applied to your hips he slammed you down on his dick, not allowing you to catch your breath or become adjusted. Instead he raised you back up, watching his tip be exposed to the cold air before forcing you back down to his shaft “God I was thinking about you all day, could hardly focus on my craft because I was too busy thinking about how I was gonna see you tonight”
Taking control you grabbed at Michael’s hands and used them as leverage to gain dominance, straddling on his dick before sloppily rocking your hips back and forth “you like this baby? This is why you couldn’t pay attention?”
Sucking on his fingers in the meanwhile and allowing your saliva to run down his fingers, imitating a moment of oral pleasure “mmm”
The sloppier your pouncing became the louder your mattress squeaked, your head was thrown back. You could feel yourself getting lost in the sensations, bouncing up and down on his dick like you needed this more than he did
Michael watched with each thrust just how creamy you were, every bounce revealed more and more sticky and wet fluids coating his dick “Fuck you feel so good right now I wanna cum inside you” he grunted
Just then you heard footsteps creaking around upstairs, immediately you covered Michael’s mouth to mask his desperate moans. Slightly arching your back and riding him a lot slower “Fuck, fuck” you moaned lowly
Just then he wrapped his arms around your waist and forced you to pounce repeatedly on his dick, suddenly your face got extremely hot and your moaning became something uncontrollable, slurring your words
“Make it messy for me mama” he whispered
Your eyes rolled back as you buried your face in his chest. At this moment you couldn’t care less about what was going on around you “Michael it feels so good, fuck please don’t stop—not now”
“You cumming for me pretty girl?” Kissing your chest “hm?”
Just as your nails dug into his back, an overwhelming sensation washed over you, stealing the breath from your lungs. The room echoed with the rhythmic sound of your bodies slapping into one another as you clung to him, completely consumed by the moment. Fueled by the sound of your body fluids coating his shaft and the occasional gasps of air that were coming out of you
“Michael I can’t hold it” you desperately moaned bearing down “Please” you begged
“I can’t hear you baby” biting on his bottom lip watching your breasts bounce in his face
“I wanna cum on you please, show you just how much I missed you”
Just then with one final thrust Michael shoved you all the way down on his dick, allowing you to feel his tip pressing against a sensitive surface. Holding the position for a few seconds before he started to see and feel you oozing out on him, just then did he lift you up slowly so he can watch you squirt
Hot tears running down your face as you became overstimulated by the intense orgasm, your first time squirting at that and doing everything in your power not to wake up the house. But you were too consumed in Michael
“Put it back in please” you begged “please I-I need more”
Michael gently guided you off his lap before taking hold of your thighs, easing you toward the edge of the bed
Straightening to his full height, his expression grew more focused as he carefully positioned you the way he wanted, quietly guiding you with a subtle nod and a soft instruction
You could tell he was touching himself by the loud fapping sounds that were being made behind you followed by deep grunts “Fuck, you get so messy on me I love it”
One hand gripped tightly onto your hip while the other guided his dick inside of you, a chill ran through his body feeling your walls consume him
He fed you his normal sweet strokes until finally he couldn’t hold back anymore, pounding against your cervix
Forcing your head into the mattress as your moaning was out of control and it didn’t help that you were sobbing louder than ever, no matter how much Michael tried to soothe you with his words it wasn’t enough “Sweetheart you’re gonna wake everyone up”
“You can’t keep fucking me like this” you cried out
Michael smirked , letting out a deep laugh “You sure?” Checking at the creamy fluids coating him “you’re doing so good my pretty girl”
“Don’t you agree?” He asked “Use your words”
Just then Michael grabbed a handful of your hair, pulling it towards him and watching your butt clap against his shaft. Allowing him to penetrate you deeper, soon your thighs began shaking and your whimpering was becoming more needy
“Yes!” You screamed out, gasping in between trying to catch your breath “Oh my god Michael yes!”
As you squirted for the second time Michael had just caught his first orgasm, watching you leak all over the bed while he pulled out and ejaculated on your cheeks. Having to use your bed rail for support to keep himself standing as the orgasm took over “Fuck baby!”
Taking a step back, Michael’s expression immediately softened with embarrassment as he took in the mess left behind. He let out a quiet, flustered laugh, rubbing the back of his neck for a second
It wasn’t in his gentlemanly nature to leave things that way. Quickly reaching for his clothes, he slipped them back on before looking over at you.
“Don’t move baby” he said gently “I’ll be right back.”
You were completely exhausted. By the time Michael returned to the room, you’d already drifted off to sleep, lying on your stomach with your hands tucked beneath your cheek, your breathing slow and peaceful
Michael couldn’t help but smile to himself. Being careful not to wake you, he soaked a washcloth in warm water before gently tending to you with quiet, unhurried care. It was second nature to him—making sure you were comfortable before anything else
Once he was satisfied, he set the cloth aside and looked at your sleeping face for a long moment, his heart softening as he realized just how peaceful you looked
Before leaving the bed, Michael carefully tucked the covers around you and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. Taking one last look at your sleeping face, he quietly made his way to the bedroom door
Peeking into the hallway, he noticed every light in the house was still off. Satisfied that everyone was asleep, he slipped out as silently as he’d come in, disappearing into the night without anyone ever knowing he was there
The next morning, you woke up much later than usual. Warm sunlight spilled through your bedroom window, shining across your face until it finally coaxed your eyes open. You blinked a few times, still fighting the urge to drift back to sleep. With a long, satisfying stretch you let out a quiet yawn before finally sitting up, the events of the night before slowly coming back to you
Almost instantly, the memories from the night before came rushing back, making the corners of your lips curl into a smile. For a brief second, you’d nearly forgotten he’d even been there
As you propped yourself up on your elbows, something on your nightstand immediately caught your eye. It definitely hadn’t been there when you went to sleep. Sitting neatly in a glass vase was a stunning bouquet of deep red roses, a small handwritten note delicately tucked between the stems
As you reached for the bouquet, your body immediately reminded you of the night before. You paused, wincing as soreness settled into your muscles
Pushing the covers aside, you shifted carefully, your cheeks warming as you realized just how thoroughly Michael had loved on you. The fact that you were still leaking hours after the fact. Even your throat felt raw
“Shit…” you muttered under your breath, unable to hide the wince as you eased yourself out of bed
Divorced Michael and reader who have feelings but reader keeps it strict on her side because she wants their kid to have non toxic home!
Love your fics btw!
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ Separated by love • divorced!Michael x divorced!reader
⤷ ゛Synopsis ˎˊ˗ You may still have feeling for your ex husband, but you'd never accept his advances again
𑣲⋆ Contains : Angst !!
There are things no one prepares you for, like what to do when you divorce who you thought was the love of your life or what to do when your feelings for him just won't go away. Every date went the same, failing horribly because your brain is consumed with his stupid smile, that stupid contagious laugh, and the fact that you still have to see him because you opened your legs to him.
Drop-off days seemed to be the hardest. You'd meet at that designated drop-off spot, and there he'd be, that sweet smile you fell in love with plastered on his face as he bent down, welcoming your baby with open arms. Her hands grasped at his shirt, laughing as he picked her up. His eyes glanced your way, his smile faltering before another smile played out on his face. Then he looked away, ushering her into the car, making sure she was comfortable.
“Wait right here, alright? Daddy will be right back,” he spoke gently, pinching her cheeks, earning a tiny giggle before she spoke, “Okayy.” Another laugh fell from her lips as he turned around, now facing you as he walked over, stopping right in front of you.
“How are you holding up?”
Of course, he'd ask that, knowing exactly how you were feeling. You were head over heels for him still, yet you couldn’t allow yourself to be put in that situation again. You couldn't allow yourself to put your child in that situation—a situation where her parents couldn't figure it out like adults, so they constantly did petty things to hurt each other. Still, their feelings lingered like pollen in the springtime.
“I’m fine.” Your tone was just as monotone as he expected for someone from whom he’d been officially separated less than a year. In the eyes of the public, you two were done, no feelings, no strings attached.
“Glad to hear it.” He watched that polite smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.
You didn't care to ask how he was doing back. In fact, you didn't care how he was doing, because of the simple fact that if you knew how he was doing, it would be another step at integrating yourself back into his life. So you refused. You refused to ask every time, refused to care if it wasn't for the sake of your child.
“Just remember to meet here again Friday, like we do every week, okay?” Your voice was sharp, cutting through the silence of the moment, your coldness seeming to come as a shock even though the two of you went through the same scenario every time—an ongoing cycle of Michael trying his best to make conversation, the devil on his shoulder telling him to do something, anything that would make you somehow reappear in his life, make you a part of his morning routine where you'd lay in bed, limbs tangled amongst the sheets, the small ray of sunlight peering through the curtains, like some kind of cinematic movie. Yet now when he woke up, it was only one person in the bed. But there was once a time where the bed seemed too small, but with one person, it seemed too big, too cold.
“Yeah, Friday,” Michael repeated to himself like the words tasted bitter in his mouth. “I’ll be there,” he spoke again, watching as you looked past him into the car with a genuine smile on your face, a smile full of tenderness and care before you looked at him again, that smile disappearing, turning into something cold.
“Do you miss it?” The question slipped out before he could think about it.
"What?" Your brows furrowed, your face twisting into confusion and a hint of anger, because he had the audacity to ask you that knowing how you felt, knowing that you did, you both did.
"Forget it," he laughed nervously.
"See you Friday, Michael."
Michael, not Mike, not Mikey, not Angelface, not Applehead, but Michael, and for some reason that hit him more than "see you." You finally got in your car, pulling off without another glance, leaving him to his own thoughts.
thinking about mature!michael x college student!reader eating you out while you study…
mainpage | masterlist
warnings: eater michael, biting & nibbling, age gap (duh), dom!michael, fem!reader
requests: open
a/n: it’s 3am and im sleepy and horny, so be kind.
when you’ve got loads of schoolwork to do, he’s gotta reward you. you’re boyfriend enters the study, kissing and touching you all over, which of course is a bit distracting- but you’ve got so much work to do.
you type away, “mm, not now baby, ‘m busy,” a slight whine escaping your lips as he kisses a sensitive spot on your neck.
“princess, you’ve been working so hard… let me make you feel good, kay?”
michael ignores your pleas, and rolls the desk chair bacl a bit. he kneels under the table, looking up at your warning expression that read “i said i’m busy, michael.” michael lifts up your skirt, exposing the slight wet spot that formed between your legs. slightly embarrassed, you bit your lip.
“my pretty girl,” michael smiled with pride, “so busy and oh so worked up.”
he licked a striped on your clothed cunt, your hips bucked into his face- but he held your body down. he kissed your inner thigh, nibbling and sucking on your “busy” body.
“mike,” you sighed, the firm grip on your thighs reminded you of how much you desired him- school was taking up a majority of your time and you rarely had time for him.
you felt your release bottling up inside you, entirely forgetting whatever work you were drowning in a few moments ago. your boyfriend took note of this, placing circles on your clit. the study was full with the lewds sounds of his mouths making out with your cunt and the rocking of the desk chair.
“‘m close, mike…”
“mm, mhm?”
you nodded, desperately.
michael kissed your slick before pulling away and rising onto his feet. your eyebrows furrowed and lips began to pout.
“you’re busy, right now, princess,” he gently smiled, “i’ll help you later, okay?”
he pulled down the fabric of your skirt, smoothing out the knit as you blankly stared into his prideful eyes.
“but-“
“ah- ah, my girl has to focus on her studies.”
michael glided your chair back into place and kissed the top of your head. he started to head out the study, “no touching yourself while you work,” he commanded before shutting the door.
for the next hour, you sat shuffling about in your seat trying to relieve yourself as you very quickly typed away.
