Dagney

She/Her|| Anni-Frid girly ‼️ Loozer and soon to be super senior <3

[simply-a-dream]

“don’t take it personally” how would you like me to take it then? professionally? romantically? academically?

[creative-anchorage]

[suriandtaal]

[actlikeyoudontknowthekid-deacti]

Hi, can you do virgin reader and virgin Michael (otw era)?🫣

Innocence

A/N: I love all these requests. I kinda did something like this for his Jackson’s era!!

Warning: Both loosing virgin, very inexperienced, smut

A random Thursday afternoon

The motel room was quiet, a low hum from the air conditioner the only sound. Michael stood by the window, looking out at the parking lot, his hands clasped tightly behind him. You sat on the edge of the bed, the springs creaking softly under you. The tension wasn’t fear; it was a shared, trembling anticipation, a secret you’d both held for so long that it had become a physical thing between you, a heat in the air.

“They talk about it like it’s nothing,” Michael said softly, his voice barely above the hum. He turned to look at you. His eyes, so often alight with a playful energy, were serious, deep pools of want and hesitation. “Jackie… Jermaine… Marlon… even Randy. They’ve all… done it. They have wives, children. They talk about… the act… like it’s just… a thing you do.” He swallowed. “But it’s not just a thing. It’s… everything.”

You nodded, understanding perfectly. For years, since you’d first started dating him in the whirlwind of his rising stardom, you’d shared this unspoken pact. Love first. Commitment first. A sacred bond before the physical communion. The world saw Michael Jackson, the electrifying performer. You saw the Michael who held your hand in the dark, who whispered dreams of a simple life away from the spotlight, who believed in old-fashioned virtues with a stubborn, beautiful purity.

He walked over, his steps hesitant. He sat beside you on the bed, not touching, but the space between your bodies felt charged. “I want to be married,” he whispered. “I want to say vows, to promise myself to you before… before we share our bodies.”

“I want that too,” you said, your voice just as quiet.

He looked down at his hands. “But… the pressure… from them… from inside me… It’s like a fire. I want you. I want all of you. The vows and the… the sharing.”

You reached out, your fingers brushing his. He flinched, then grasped your hand, his grip surprisingly strong. “Maybe…,” you started, the idea forming as you spoke it, “maybe the vows can be ours. Just ours. And the sharing… can be ours too. Just tonight. Just us. No one else ever needs to know the order.”

His eyes widened. The idea, so simple, seemed to unlock something in him. A path between his conflicting desires. A way to honor his need for commitment and his desperate, mounting physical need. “Our own ceremony?” he asked.

“Yes. Our words. Our promises. Then… we can learn. Together.”

A slow, shy smile spread across his face. It was the smile you loved most, the one that broke through the performer’s mask and revealed the vulnerable, hopeful boy underneath. “Tonight,” he agreed, the word a solemn pledge.

He stood up, suddenly purposeful. He went to his small suitcase and rummaged inside. He pulled out a small, clear bottle with a blue label. He held it up, a look of bewildered pride on his face. “Marlon gave me this. He said… it helps.” He frowned at the bottle. “Lube. I don’t… I don’t really know how it helps, but he said it’s important.”

You felt a flush of warmth, both at his adorable confusion and at the practical reality now staring you in the face. The theory was about to become practice. “It… makes things smoother,” you explained gently. “Less… friction.”

“Friction,” he repeated, as if learning a new scientific term. He nodded seriously. “Okay. Good.” He placed the bottle carefully on the nightstand, as if it were a sacred object.

Then, the atmosphere shifted. The planning was over. The moment was now. He turned back to you, and the shyness was still there, but underneath it was a growing, unmistakable hunger. He knelt on the floor in front of you, taking both your hands in his. This was his idea of the ceremony.

His voice was low, earnest, trembling with emotion. “I, Michael Joseph Jackson, promise my heart, my soul, and my life to you. I vow to cherish you above all others, to protect you, to honor you, and to love you with everything I am, for all the days of my life.” His eyes glistened. “This is my true vow.”

Your throat tightened. You mirrored his position, kneeling so you faced him. “And I vow to you, Michael, to be your partner, your confidante, your sanctuary. I promise to stand with you, to dream with you, and to love you with a faithfulness that never falters.” You leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t a passionate kiss; it was a seal. A confirmation. His lips were soft, and they trembled against yours.

When you parted, the ceremonial gravity dissolved, replaced by the raw, urgent reality of what was next. You were both still kneeling on the floor. He looked at you, his breathing shallower now. “We’re practically married now,” he said, as if assuring himself.

“We are,” you giggled softly.

He stood, helping you up. Your hands didn’t separate. He led you back to the bed. This time, he didn’t sit beside you. He stood facing you, his gaze dropping from your eyes to your lips, then lower. His own nervousness was a mirror to yours. You both were explorers in an unknown land, with only instinct as your guide.

He leaned in, his kiss changing. This one was not a seal, but a question. A soft press, then a parting of lips. His tongue touched yours tentatively, a shy exploration. You responded, opening to him, and a low moan escaped his throat. The sound, so full of surprised pleasure, ignited something in your core.

His hands came up to your shoulders, sliding down your arms, then to your waist. He was learning your shape through touch. He pulled you closer, his body aligning with yours. You could feel the heat of him, the lean muscular frame usually hidden under stage costumes. And you could feel, pressing against your stomach through his clothes, the firm evidence of his desire.

He broke the kiss, breathing heavily. “Clothes,” he mumbled, as if remembering a step in a manual. “They have to… go.”

You nodded, your own hands moving to the hem of his shirt. Together, in a clumsy, mutual dance, you helped each other undress. His shirt came off, revealing his smooth, taut chest. Your top was unbuttoned and discarded. His pants were unzipped, slid down his legs. Your skirt was unfastened and pulled away.

When you stood there, finally naked before each other, the air seemed to vanish from the room. You saw his body, not as the idol’s, but as your husband’s. Beautiful, slender, poised with a tension that was entirely for you. And he saw you, his eyes widening, drinking in the sight of you with a reverence that made your skin flush.

He reached out, his fingertips brushing your collarbone, then tracing down the center of your chest, over the swell of your breast. His touch was feather-light, awestruck. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, the words sounding like a prayer.

You touched him too, your hand skimming over his ribs, down to his hip. Your fingers grazed the hardness that stood erect between his legs. He gasped at the contact, his whole body jerking slightly. “It’s… it’s so sensitive,” he confessed, his voice shaky.

You both moved onto the bed, no longer standing. The sheets were cool against your back. He lay beside you, then turned to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. His free hand continued its exploration, now more confident. He cupped your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. It pebbled instantly under his touch, and a sharp jolt of pleasure shot through you. You arched, a soft “oh” escaping your lips.

He watched your reaction intently, his own desire visibly growing. He leaned down and kissed your nipple, his lips closing around it softly, then with more pressure. His tongue swirled. The sensation was exquisite, a direct line of pleasure to your core. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft curls, holding him to you.

His mouth traveled across your chest, to your other breast, giving it the same attentive worship. Between kisses and licks, he was murmuring, “So good… you feel so good…”

His explorations moved lower. His hand slid over your stomach, his fingers tracing the dip of your navel. He was moving with a natural, growing curiosity, driven by his want to know you, to pleasure you. His hand reached the junction of your thighs. He paused there, his fingers resting on the soft skin of your inner thigh.

He looked at you, his eyes asking a silent question. You nodded, spreading your legs slightly in invitation. His fingers, trembling, ventured into the warmth between your legs. His first touch was a gentle stroke over your outer folds. He felt the moisture there, the heat. His breath hitched.

“It’s so wet,” he whispered, amazed.

He pressed a little deeper, his fingertips finding your entrance. He rubbed gently, a circular, exploratory motion. It was clumsy, but the intention behind it—the sheer focused desire to touch you there—made it intensely arousing. You moaned, your hips lifting slightly, encouraging him.

His movements became more purposeful. One finger slipped inside you. It was a strange, wonderful sensation—the intrusion of his body into yours. He watched your face as he did it, his own expression one of profound concentration and awe. “Inside,” he said, as if confirming a miracle. He moved the finger slowly, in and out, learning the feel of you.

The pleasure built, a steady climb. But you knew, and he was clearly realizing, that this was just a precursor. His body was trembling beside you, his own need becoming urgent. He withdrew his finger, looking at it, then at you. “I want…,” he started, but didn’t finish. The want was obvious.

He shifted his position, moving to kneel between your legs. You opened yourself to him, your heart pounding in your ears. He looked down at his own erection, then at you. He picked up the bottle of lube from the nightstand, holding it like a unfamiliar tool.

He unscrewed the cap, sniffed the contents suspiciously, then poured a generous amount onto his palm. He looked at the slick, clear gel pooled in his hand. “It’s cold,” he noted.

He didn’t seem to know what to do with it. He looked at you, then at his own hardness. With a decisive, but utterly incorrect move, he slapped the palmful of lube directly onto the head of his penis, smearing it there. It glistened. He then, with the same hand still slick, reached down and smeared a dollop of the remaining lube hastily over your entrance. The cold gel was a shock against your heated skin, and you flinched.

“Okay,” he said, satisfied with his preparations. He was breathing hard now, his focus entirely on the act of joining. He positioned himself, his hands on your hips, guiding you. He leaned forward, his tip pressing against you.

But his aim was off. The angle was wrong. Instead of finding your waiting, lubricated opening, he pressed forward and met the resistant, tight muscle of your anus.

There was a moment of confusion. He pushed, expecting entry, but met a firm barrier. You felt the pressure, a blunt, wrong sensation. “Michael, wait,” you said, urgency in your voice.

He stopped, frozen. “What? Is it… is it not working?” he asked, panicked.

“It’s… the wrong place,” you explained gently, guiding his hand with yours to help him feel the difference, to direct him to the correct, softer entrance.

His face flooded with embarrassment. “Oh! Oh, I… I didn’… I’m sorry,” he stammered, his confidence faltering.

“It’s okay,” you reassured him, your hand over his, guiding him. “We’re learning. Just… here.”

He adjusted, his tip now finding the slick, welcoming opening you’d prepared. This time, when he pressed forward, there was a different sensation. A yielding. A slow, incredible breach.

He pushed, and the head of his erection entered you. His eyes flew wide. “Oh…,” he gasped, a sound of pure, shocked revelation. The feeling for him was obviously monumental. For you, it was a stretching, a filling, a deep ache of pleasure that was entirely new.

He didn’t stop. Driven by instinct and overwhelming sensation, he pushed further. Inch by inch, he slid into you, his body sinking deeper as yours accepted him. You both were breathing in ragged sync, your eyes locked. His were wide, unblinking, lost in the physical reality of being inside you.

When he was fully seated, he stopped, buried within you to his root. He shuddered, a full-body tremor. “You’re… so… tight… so warm…,” he breathed, the words fragmented by sensation.

He began to move. It was a tentative, shaky withdrawal, then a push back in. The rhythm was unpolished, but the feeling was undeniable. For him, each stroke was a discovery. The friction, now aided by the lubricant he’d applied, was a smooth, hot glide. The pressure, the tightness of your body around him, was sending shocks of pleasure through his system.

For you, the feeling evolved from the initial stretch to a rhythmic build of pleasure. His strokes, though clumsy, hit a spot deep inside you that sparked flashes of light behind your eyelids. You clutched his shoulders, your fingers digging into his skin.

His movements became less tentative, more driven. He found a rhythm, a pace that felt natural. He was leaning over you, his face close to yours, his breath hot on your skin. He was watching you, learning what your moans, your arching back, your clenched fingers meant. He was a performer, and even here, in this most private act, he was attuned to his partner’s reactions.

He shifted slightly, and the angle changed. The new angle sent a sharper, more direct pleasure through you. You cried out, a louder moan that encouraged him. He grunted, a low, masculine sound you’d never heard from him before. It was raw, unfiltered pleasure.

His pace increased. He was thrusting now with a growing urgency, his hips driving into you with a force that rocked your body back into the mattress. The bed creaked in protest. His breathing was ragged, punctuated by soft groans on each inward thrust.

“I can’t… I feel… something… building…,” he managed to say, his voice strained.

You felt it too. A tightening in your own core, a gathering storm of sensation. His thrusts were hitting you perfectly now, each one fueling the fire. You were moaning continuously, a stream of sound that matched his rhythm.

He was losing himself. His eyes closed, his head dropped. His thrusts became faster, harder, less controlled. He was chasing something, driven by a primal need. You held onto him, your own climax coiling tight, ready to snap.

“It’s… it’s happening…,” he gasped, his thrusts becoming almost frantic.

And then, with a final, deep plunge, he shuddered violently. His body locked, his hips pressing into you as deeply as they could go. A guttural, choked cry tore from his throat. Inside you, you felt a sudden, warm flooding, a pulsing release that signified his climax.

But he didn’t collapse. He stayed there, pressed deep, trembling, his eyes open but unfocused. He was panting, gasping for air. After a few seconds, he whispered, confused, “Did I…? Did I come? I felt… a rush… but I don’t… know…”

The physical evidence was inside you, but the experience for him was so overwhelming, so all-consuming, that the specific mechanics were lost in the sensation. You nodded, your own voice breathless. “Yes… you did.”

He seemed to accept this, but the confusion lingered on his face, mixed with the dazed, spent pleasure. He slowly, carefully, withdrew from you. The separation felt intimate, a slow, tender retreat. He collapsed beside you, his body slick with sweat, his breathing still heavy.

You turned to him, your own body humming with unmet release. He saw the need still in your eyes. Without words, understanding, he reached for you. His hand, now knowing, found your core again. His fingers, still slick from both your bodies and the lube, touched you, circled the sensitive peak of your pleasure. He watched your face as he did it, learning this too.

His touch was more confident now. He rubbed, pressed, stimulated you with a focused intent to bring you to the same peak he’d just experienced. The built-up tension from his thrusts, combined with his skilled fingers, sent you over the edge quickly. Your climax crashed over you, a wave of release that made you cry out, your body convulsing beside him. He held you through it, his arms wrapping around you, his face nuzzling into your neck.

When the storm passed, you lay together in a sticky, breathless heap. The room was silent again, save for your slowing breaths. He turned his head to look at you. His eyes were clear now, the confusion gone, replaced by a deep, satiated warmth.

“We did it,” he said softly. A statement of fact, and of wonder.

“We did,” you echoed.

He pulled you closer, your bodies fitting together in the afterglow. “Our vows were first,” he murmured, contentment in his voice. “Then this. It was perfect.”

You nodded against his shoulder, smelling the scent of him, of sex, of the shared secret. “Just for us,” you whispered.

He kissed your forehead, a tender, closing kiss. “Just for us,” he agreed. “No one else needs to know. Ever.”

His eyes drifted closed, exhaustion and fulfillment pulling him toward sleep. You watched him, your husband in your private, secret ceremony, now your lover in experience. His breathing deepened, slowed. You stayed awake a little longer, feeling the new, profound connection between your bodies, a connection that was now physical, spiritual, and utterly yours.

[actlikeyoudontknowthekid-deacti]

hiii, can i request a off the wall michael with his new girlfriend of a couple of months, who gave him hickeys right before meeting his family and they tease him about it? thanks 🫶🏻

Leopard neck

A/N: This is so funny. I also kinda got the title idea from Grease ;) (iykwim - Danny Zuko)

Warning: nothing too graphic but be aware

“Michael, what is this?”

LaToya’s voice was a laser beam of curiosity, cutting through the warm, familial chatter in the sitting room at Hayvenhurst. Her finger, delicate and accusatory, pointed directly at the side of your neck.

You felt the blood drain from your face, then rush back in a hot, mortifying flood. Michael, sitting beside you on the plush sofa, stiffened. His hand, which had been resting casually on your knee, twitched.

You had forgotten. Completely forgotten.

“It’s nothing, Toy,” Michael said, his voice a soft, practiced deflection. He tried to turn his head, but the angle was wrong. The mark—a faint, purplish bloom just below his jawline, right where his collar gaped open—was now the center of the universe for everyone in the room.

Joseph, Michael’s father, leaned forward from his armchair, his eyes narrowing. Katherine, his mother, paused her knitting, a gentle smile playing on her lips. Janet, perched on the floor by the fireplace, let out a tiny, knowing giggle. Rebbie just raised an eyebrow.

“It looks like a…” LaToya trailed off, but the word hung in the air, palpable and embarrassing.

A hickey.

You wanted to sink into the velvet cushions and disappear. Two months. That’s how long you and Michael had been… whatever this was. Secret dates in darkened recording studios. Late-night drives in his Rolls, windows up, world shut out. Conversations that stretched into dawn, where he wasn’t the King of Pop, but just Michael—a man who was shy, strangely funny, and achingly lonely in his own colossal fame.

And last night, in the privacy of his suite at the hotel after a long rehearsal, the dam had broken. Not in a grand, passionate way, but in a slow, tender unraveling. The tension that had built over weeks of whispered promises and almost-touches finally snapped. It was just a kiss at first, longer and deeper than before. Then his hands, those famous, graceful hands, had framed your face. And you… you had gotten carried away. In the dim light, with his pulse thrumming under your fingertips, you’d pressed your mouth to his neck, not thinking, just feeling. He’d sighed, a sound of pure surrender, and you’d lingered there, lost in the intimacy of marking him, of leaving some small, secret proof of yourself on his famously pristine skin.

You hadn’t meant for it to be visible. You thought it would be faint. You thought the high collar of his shirt today would cover it.

You were wrong.

“It’s a bruise,” Michael said, too quickly. “From the choreography yesterday. We were working on a new spin, and I bumped into a prop.”

Joseph snorted. “You’ve been dancing since you were five, son. You don’t get bruises on your neck from props.”

Katherine’s smile widened. “It’s a lovely color, though. Almost like a little plum.”

Janet couldn’t contain herself. “A bruise? Michael, you’re wearing a silk shirt. You don’t do choreography in a silk shirt.” She turned her bright eyes to you. “Did you give him a bruise?”

The question was innocent, but the implication was a wildfire. You felt Michael’s fingers tighten on your knee, a silent plea for solidarity.

You took a breath. The room was suddenly very quiet, the only sound the faint crackle of the fire. You were here, in the inner sanctum of the Jackson family, a place few outsiders ever penetrated. You were the new girl. The mystery. And now, you were the girl who had apparently marked their brother, their idol, their Michael.

“It was an accident,” you said, your voice surprisingly steady. “We were… hugging goodbye last night. It was dark. I must have… bumped him with my… bracelet.” You gestured vaguely to your wrist, which was, in fact, bare.

LaToya leaned in closer, her curiosity morphing into delight. “A bracelet bump? That’s a new one. That looks like a mouth-shaped bump.”

Michael let out a soft, strained laugh. “Toy, don’t be ridiculous.”

But the denial was useless. The evidence was on his skin, a tiny, damning declaration of normal, messy human affection on a man who was usually presented as untouchable.

Joseph stood up, a tall, imposing figure. He walked over to Michael, not with anger, but with a kind of gruff amusement. He peered at the mark. “Let me see this ‘bruise’.” Michael instinctively tilted his head away, but Joseph gently took his chin and turned his face. The older man studied the spot for a long moment. The whole room watched.

Then Joseph chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound. “Well. I’ll be. Katherine, look at this. Our boy’s got a love bite.”

The term, old-fashioned and blunt, made Michael flinch. You saw his shoulders tense, the familiar armor of celebrity discomfort clicking into place. This was his private life, his fragile new connection, being dissected in front of his family.

Katherine stood, setting her knitting aside. She approached with her gentle, maternal grace. She didn’t look at the mark; she looked at Michael’s eyes. She saw the embarrassment, the vulnerability, and a flicker of something else—a spark of defiant pride.

“It’s alright, Michael,” she said softly, touching his arm. “It’s nice to see.” She then turned her warm gaze to you. “It’s nice to see you here. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

That was the pivot. The moment the attention shifted from the scandal of the mark to the presence of the person who made it. The tension in the room softened, reshaping itself into something else: curiosity about you.

The conversation drifted, as family conversations do, to safer topics—the upcoming tour, Janet’s new album, Rebbie’s children. But the hickey lingered in the atmosphere, a ghost at the feast. Every time Michael laughed or turned his head, someone’s eyes would flicker to his neck. Janet would smirk. LaToya would whisper something to Rebbie. Joseph would give you a long, appraising look that wasn’t unkind, but was deeply knowing.

You sat there, hyper-aware of every gesture. Michael’s hand never left your knee, but its presence changed. It wasn’t just a casual touch anymore; it was a statement. A claim. She is with me. This is from her.

During a lull, when Katherine went to fetch more tea, Janet scooted over to you on the floor. “So,” she said, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Hugging, huh?”

You smiled, a weak defense. “It was a very… enthusiastic hug.”

“I bet,” Janet giggled. “Michael doesn’t do ‘enthusiastic’ anything in public. He must really like you.” She paused, her young face serious for a second. “He’s different with you. More… here. Less up in his head.”

The observation was astute and touching. It was what you had felt, too. In the bubble you’d created with him, he wasn’t performing. He was just existing.

Later, as the evening wore on and the fire dimmed, LaToya cornered you near the grand piano. “Alright, I need details,” she said, not unkindly. “Not the… neck details. But the real ones. How did this even happen? Michael doesn’t date. He especially doesn’t date people who leave… artwork on him.”

You told her the surface story. You were a costume designer for the tour, hired through a mutual friend. You’d met him during a fitting. It was professional, then it wasn’t. You spoke of the long talks, his shy humor, his incredible focus on his work, and how he’d slowly, tentatively, opened up.

“He trusts you,” LaToya said, nodding. “That’s the big thing. The mark…” she waved toward Michael, who was now talking quietly with his mother. “…that’s just the physical proof. The outside of the inside thing.” She smiled. “I’m glad. He needs someone who sees the man, not the mirror.”

As the night drew to a close, the goodbyes were warm. Katherine hugged you, a genuine, welcoming embrace. Joseph gave you a firm, approving pat on the shoulder. Janet winked. Rebbie smiled warmly. LaToya whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how to make them less visible next time.”

The comment sent a fresh jolt of heat through you.

Finally, you and Michael were alone, walking down the long, quiet driveway toward where his car was parked, sheltered from the world. The night was cool, the LA air smelling of jasmine and distant ocean.

He was silent for a long time. You walked beside him, the gravel crunching softly under your feet. You could feel the weight of the evening on him.

Then, he stopped. He turned to you, under the soft glow of a security light. His face was a mosaic of emotions: relief, residual embarrassment, and a deep, glowing warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. “For that… interrogation.”

“It wasn’t an interrogation,” you said. “It was family. They care.”

He shook his head, a slow, graceful motion. “They saw it. They all saw… what you did to me.” The way he said it—what you did to me—wasn’t accusatory. It was reverent.

He reached up, his fingers touching the spot on his neck lightly. “I’ve never had one before,” he admitted, a shy confession. “It’s… strange. It’s like you’re still here, even when you’re not.”

You stepped closer, the space between you collapsing. “I didn’t mean for it to be so… public.”

“I know.” He smiled, a real, unguarded smile that transformed his face. “But it is. And now they know. I know.” He took your hand, lifting it to his lips. He kissed your knuckles, a gesture so tender it made your heart ache. “They liked you. Mom really liked you.”

“I liked them,” you said, your throat tight.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. The playful teasing from his family, the gentle scrutiny, the way his father had called it a “love bite”—it had all stripped away another layer of his public persona. Here, in the quiet aftermath, he was just a man who had been caught with a mark from a woman he cared for. And he wasn’t upset. He was… possessive.

“When we were in my suite last night,” he began, his voice dropping even lower, “and you… did that. I felt something I’ve never felt.” He paused, gathering the words. “It was like you were claiming a part of me. A part no one else gets. And it hurt, a little. But it was a good hurt. It was a real hurt.”

You remembered the moment. The taste of his skin, the scent of his cologne mixed with clean sweat, the way his breath had caught. You hadn’t thought about claiming him. You’d just been overwhelmed by the need to connect, to leave some imprint of the intensity you felt.

“I wanted to feel close to you,” you whispered. “That’s all.”

“We are close,” he said. He moved your hand from his lips to his chest, holding it over his heart. You could feel its steady, strong beat through his shirt. “But now…” he glanced back toward the house, where the warm lights of the sitting room still glowed. “…now everyone knows we’re close. And that changes things.”

He wasn’t wrong. The private bubble had been punctured. Your relationship, whatever its boundaries, was now a known entity to his inner circle. The secret was out. The mark was the proof.

“Does it change things for you?” you asked, the question hanging between you.

He considered it, his gaze intense. “It makes it more real,” he said finally. “Before, it was ours. Now, it’s… acknowledged. It exists in the world.” He squeezed your hand against his chest. “I like that. I think I like that a lot.”

He leaned in then, not for a kiss, but to bring his lips close to your ear. His voice was a soft, intimate murmur, meant only for you. “Next time,” he whispered, “don’t stop at just one.”

The promise, the sheer intention in those words, sent a shockwave of pure, anticipatory desire through you. It wasn’t about the act. It was about the permission. The invitation to be more, to mark him more deeply, to explore that “good hurt” further.

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming with a new kind of confidence. The embarrassment was gone, burned away by the familial teasing and the quiet acceptance that followed. What remained was a clear, sharp focus on you, and on the nascent, physical language you were beginning to build together.

“Come on,” he said, taking your hand properly and leading you toward the car. “Im gonna look like a leopard messing with you girl.” He giggled and you did too.

You both got into the car and went wherever the wind took y’all.

[cherryblossmlover]

Ouu just bless me 😛

[annizzenn]

The thrill of the Thriller

Pairing: Thriller!Michael Jackson x f!reader

Warnings: Suggestive Language and Frank being a bit of a creep

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so please excuse the spelling mistakes or weird hiccups! I will edit when I see the mistakes

Summary: Your manager had somehow managed to land you the role in the upcoming music video Thriller. Michael already being your big celebrity crush this opportunity was making you weak in the knees. This would be your big moment little did you know it would bring you more than a career.

A pair of heels click against the wooden floor as they make their way towards one of the meeting rooms in the building. Opening the door the women looks inside and spots her manager Vanessa sitting down with a sparkle in her eyes.

"Y/n! Good good come on take a seat you will need to be seated for these news."

Raising one elegant eyebrow she sits herself across from her manager.

You had worked in the acting industry for a bit now. Still awaiting your big break but Vanessa had spotted her at a smaller set and immediately picked up on the talent. It had only been a few months but she had already made your career rise with every passing day.

Vanessa clears her throat "So I heard a rumor from a good friend of mine Quincy that his popstar wants to shoot a music video of his latest hit but they need a women in it to play alongside with. I of course started pulling some strings, talked to a few people and you got the role! The casting crew loved your energy on the tape I showed them" Vanessa looks extremely pleased with herself as she awaits your reaction.

Her brain takes a bit to kick in not really grasping what her manager is saying before it sinks in. Letting out a gasp she smiles joyfully "Oh that is amazing Vanessa, I'm so honoured that they chose me"

"So do you have any questions right now?"

A million different ones flows in your mind, before blurting out one "Who am I acting with in the video?"

Vanessa gives you a strange look and shakes her head. "Michael Jackson of course, it's his song after all"

It feels like your jaw hits the floor as you stare at Vanessa with shock written all over your face. "Michael Jackson?" You stutter out.

"Yeah, anyways I need to rush off. Here sign these paper and hand them over as soon as possible oh and Y/n dear pickup that jaw from the floor you're going to catch flies."

Vanessa rises and walks out the door leaving you with your shocked thoughts.

You and Michael were a similar age him just 2 years older. Since you can remember you were always smitten by the man. From his early Jackson 5 performances to now. To be fair who didn't love his eyes, his smile, his strong hands that could do anything to you....

Snapping yourself out of the daydream you gather the papers in hand before heading off. You needed a strong drink and to prepare for this.

The weeks have flown by since the news was broken about the Thriller music video and now she is on her way to set. Stomach churning with nerves, a violently ill feeling slowly spreading throughout her body. What the hell had she signed up for.

Vanessa was sitting in the front of the car, rambling away about anything and everything. You could tell that she was nervous too, this was your biggest job ever.

As the car glides up towards the grey building you wipe your hands on the black skirt you have on. Taking a few deep breaths you try to calm the nerves churning inside you and to have a cool and calm composure.

Today was just make-up and clothes day no filming that would start in a few days. You didn't even know if Michael would be there today but just the thought of being in such close proximity made your heart race.

The car comes to a smooth halt and Vanessa jumps out while you take a moment to breath before opening the door and stepping outside. The air is cool against your clammy skin and Vanessa impatiently taps her heel against the pavement silently telling you to hurry up.

Following the impatient women towards the steel door she flashes an I.D card to the guard that stands ready. He scans it quickly before opening the door "Welcome M'am "

Following Vanessa inside you glance around, it's just a long grey corridor and for a second you feel pranked. Was this all just some big trick?

Vanessa enters another door after a few minutes of walking and inside there people are bustling around clothes and makeup in their hands. A few chairs are lined up against well lit mirrors and in a corner a sofa and some armchairs are nestled in snuggly.

A man on the sofa with cigarr in his hand immediately rises once Vanessa enters "Vanessa my dear friend " he greets her with a big hug.

"Frank how are you! It's been so long" the two managers immediately fall into chatter while you stand a bit awkwardly to the side. Taking the moment to glance around you realise Michael is nowhere to be seen and your shoulders relax a bit. Badly wanting to make a good first impression on the gorgeous man you had been on edge since you entered the building.

"So this her?" Suddenly the eyes of the two managers are on you. Frank studies you from top to toe and you feel extremely exposed. "Nice to meet you Sir, I'm Y/n Y/L/N" extending a hand that he in turn shakes.

"Good to finally meet the girl Vanessa have been talking so much about. Can't say she is wrong you really are cute as a button I'm Frank Michaels manager "

Feeling a bit uncomfortable about his comment you drop his hand for a bit and take another look around.

"Michael is just in the dressing room trying on his fit for the video. He is very excited to meet you, he won't be disappointed that's for sure " Frank chuckles and you give him a tight uncomfortable smile.

Vanessa seeing the uncomfortable look on your face steers the conversation topic elsewhere. Someone taps you on your shoulder and turning around a girl stands there.

"Are you Y/n?" She asks you and as you nod in conformation she lights up.

"Nice to meet you I'm Danielle your makeup artist come with me, I want to start working on some swatches."

Glancing at Vanessa she gives a nod before you follow the bright girl to a chair with a lit up mirror. Taking a seat you and Danielle fall into easy chatter getting to know each other.

After 20 minutes of Danielle trying different swatches she seems kinda pleased when everyone hushes for a second before chatting excitedly. Michael had just enter the room, fitted in a mouth watering red leather outfit that nearly made you squirm.

A few of the women working on the set immediately giggles and bats their eyelashes at him. Michael gives them a polite smile before heading over to Frank.

"Michael my main man looking good" Frank claps him on the shoulder and then introduce him to Vanessa.

You can hear them chat in the background before Danielle announces she is done. That captures the attention of Vanessa "Y/n come here let us see"

Rising from the chair you walk towards the trio, hyper aware that you would be in very close range to Michael extremely soon. Joining the trio Vanessa hums in approval and Frank nods.

Michael studies you curiously as you give him a shy smile. You knew he was gorgeous but he was absolutely stunning up close, everything about him was beautiful and you had to drag your eyes away to not stare like a creep.

"Oh Michael this Y/n your co star and Y/n this is Michael your Co star" Vanessa introduces you guys to one another.

Extending a hand towards Michael he delicately takes it in his. A gorgeous smile on his face " Nice to meet you Y/n I've heard great things about you from Frank"

"Likewise Mr Jackson, I mean I've seen and heard your music and it's great very nice to finally meet you" oh god you are rambling. Cutting yourself off you feel a raging blush on your face as you smile sheepishly at him.

Michael just chuckles at your little mess up and shakes his head "please call me Michael, Mr Jackson makes me feel so old "

"Okay Michael nice to meet you"

Realising you are still holding his hand you drop it quickly the redness on your cheeks burning brighter.

"Come on you two lets take a seat and discuss a few things" Frank decides and takes a seat on one of the big arm chairs. Vanessa claims the next one meaning the couch is the only available option.

Sitting down you tug a little nervously at you skirt as Michael joins you. He sits close, closer then you expected. His whole leg is nearly pressed up against yours sending shivers throughout your body.

Frank immediately launch into talking and at first you take note of every word really wanting to make a good first impression. As the time passes you slowly realise he has said the same thing 10 times. Sighing softly you lean back a bit accidentally knocking into Michaels arm.

Rushing out a whispered apology he just gives you a soft smile and shakes his head in a "don't worry way"

Finally Frank switch up the topic unfortunately the new topic is only about you. At first he is suitable but you can still catch a few words here and there that raises your guard. Then he spits it out so casually "with a body like that."

Frank keeps on talking as you tense up a bit. His words made you feel dirty in a way you never felt before. Michael gives you a concerned look clearly feeling you tense up next to him.

As Frank keeps on talking the panicky feeling keeps rising inside you until it's enough. Rising from your seat quietly excusing yourself to the bathroom trying to make as much distance as possible.

You miss the frown on Michaels face as you leave the couch. He didn't like the way you nearly fled the conversation after what Frank said. He didn't like that way Frank talked about you at all.

The bathroom door clicks shut as you sink down on the floor. The tile cool against your clammy skin. Here you sat on a cold bathroom floor nearly wanting to rip your skin off while having the big break in your career.

Taking a few minutes to compose yourself and calm down, rising from the floor dusting yourself off and fixing your appearance in the mirror you walk out and rejoin the group still in conversation.

Sinking down next to Michael you create a bit of a distance. Missing his warm leg against yours, regretting the small space immediately. Leaning your head back against the cushion listening to Franks endless chatter.

Suddenly you feel a warm leg press up against yours again. Michael had shifted closer, blushing you risk a glance at him. He is not looking at you but the slight smirk on his face tells you that he knows exactly what he is doing.

A women walks up to the group clearing her throat "Mr.DiLeo I need to borrow Y/n to check that the clothes looks good"

Frank waves you away and as you rise you feel a hand on the small of your back keeping steady. Trying to not blush furiously you walk after the other woman to the changing rooms.

She hands you a few pieces of clothing and you change quickly. Turning around in the mirror you look over the outfit, the denim material dosen't feel to stiff and easy to move in. Stepping out to show the stylist she hums in approval before walking around you.

"Yeah this will work, I don't think we need to do any adjustments"

Humming in response you hear Vanessa thanking Frank and Michael before heading over to you two.

"That looks good Y/n, listen we have got everything planned so why don't you change so we can leave"

Nodding you slip back into the changing room grabbing the skirt and shirt putting them on. Fixing your hair in the mirror and walking outside you follow Vanessa outside.

To your big disappointment Michael is nowhere to be seen. You had at least hoped to be able to say goodbye. Leaving the building and getting into the car you sink into the seat leaning towards the window watching the surroundings outside.

Today had been a long day and a part of you still couldn't believe you were working with Michael Jackson.

His smile brought butterflies to your stomach. To be fair all of him made you go crazy. Of course you would never admit that to anyone only your cat knew what you really felt. He ignited something inside you that you didn't know how to tame.

The car pulls up to the apartment complex and you get out thanking the driver. Vanessa suddenly perks up "Oh we are going to start filming in 2 days, we will pick you up at 5 am it will be a long day!"

Nodding you close the door and walk inside the building and up the stairs towards your door. Unlocking the door Luna your fluffy white cat greets you with a meow reaching down you pet her on the head "hi there my darling "

With Luna close by you start the night routine with thoughts swirling in your head about the day that had passed.

It's way to early.

The alarm rang at 4:20 AM and you had rolled out of bed nearly crashing to the floor. Luna had barely opened an eye as you stumbled around getting ready.

At 5 AM sharp you stand at the curb outside, wrapping the jacket closer to your body as the morning chill spreads through you.

A black car glides up and stops where you stand. Opening the door you jump in, mumbling something in a greeting more asleep then awake. Vanessa greets you with a big smile and a cheery voice.

Groaning you throw your head back "it's way to early for this Vanessa. How do you even have this much energy?"

Vanessa just shakes her head and hands you a can of Redbull. Smiling gratefully you crack it open hoping the sweet kick of caffeine will wake you up.

The rest of the drive is uneventful, Vanessa chats with the driver quietly while you try and wake up even more.

The sun is slowly rising over the horizon and the journey goes smoothly as there is no other car out at this hour.

Arriving at the studio you thank the driver before jumping out. Today you had on a simple black hoodie, a pair of comfortable jeans and a puffer jacket keeping out the cold air.

Waiting for Vanessa you follow her inside, pulling up the hood on your hoodie and stifling a yawn. Inside the energy is slow a few people walking around fixing stuff.

You make a beeline towards one of the couches flopping down. You liked early mornings usually but you had been plagued by very interesting dreams the last two nights making you wake up flustered and hot.

You start to drift off towards the dreams when you snap yourself out of it. You can't sit here and daydream about Michael doing ungodly stuff to you in bed.

Shaking your head and sipping your redbull you watch Frank and Michael enter the studio. Michael is wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and a grey hoodie. It's such a causal outfit but it makes your mouth water.

Okay no Y/n get it together. Behave. Professional.

Burrowing deeper into the couch you hide away in the hood of your hoodie slowly sipping on the energy drink watching Michael and Frank greet Vanessa.

Taking your eyes off them you look around again. It's nothing too special just a few makeup stations and changing rooms. Furrowing your eyebrows you really thought the studio would look more grand.

"Good morning"

Flinching at the sound of Michaels voice you snap your eyes towards him. Smiling sheepishly you mumble a good morning back.

"Can I sit?" Always the polite one, he really does melt your heart a bit. Nodding you expect him to sit across but he takes a seat right next to you and throws an arm around the back of the couch.

"Not a morning person I take?" He teases lightly smiling at the way you try and hide a big yawn.

"I'm usually good with early mornings but I haven't slept too good for a bit "

Michael hums and shifts a bit closer. You tense up a bit what the hell is going on.

"You do know we have to hug and come real close in some scenes better get used to my touch" Michael murmurs in your ear making you flush a bit.

Forcing your body to relax you can't help but feel a bit disappointed. Deep down you couldn't help but fantasie that Michael touches had been deliberately done and not because of the music video that maybe you two would end up as something together.

It's quiet for a bit only your yawns disturbing the peace. Frank and Vanessa joins the two of you and Vanessa raises an eyebrow in suprise at the close proximity between the two of you. Seeing her pointed glance you flush a bit and shift away a little bit.

"Alright Y/n in 5 minutes we need you in the makeup and hair chair and then to the changing room. We are shooting the movie theater scenes first. After that we are doing a few of the house scenes and then the outside scenes."

Nodding along to Vanessas words you finally feel a bit more awake.

Rising you stretch upwards, not realising your hoodie rises a few inches showing off some skin. You hear a low groan from Michael and glance down confused before realising what was happening.

Quickly fixing your hoodie flushing slightly. Michaels eyes are transfixed to you, slightly darker then they usually are. His grip on the couch is deathly, knuckles nearly turning white.

Quietly excusing yourself you walk over to hair and makeup and plop down. Zooning out, thoughts drifting to his reaction. That was not normal, it almost seemed like he was...attracted to you?

Immediately dismissing that silly thought you try to cool your head. Professional behaviour Y/n remember that.

The makeup artist is skilled and quickly gets done with your face and hair sending you over to the stylist.

Changing into the clothes you step out for some last fixes before getting sent over to the set.

Michael is already standing there dressed in his red leather jacket. Taking a moment to admire him from afar, he was unfairly gorgeous. His jawline so sharp it could probably cut something.

Professional thoughts Y/n you scold yourself before walking over to Vanessa.

"Oh you look amazing Y/n, are you ready?"

"Thank you, yeah I think so I'm just acting scared and then leaving right?"

"Yes that and hiding in Michaels arms for a bit before walking out "

Oh yeah. Right hiding in Michaels arms.

You can do it. Just be professional. A small voice in the back of your head reminds you of the moment earlier. Maybe he is feeling something?

Shaking off the thoughts you nod before the director yells out for everyone to take their places.

Walking over to where you were seated and plopping down you glance around the extras that were sat around you. Michael takes a seat next to you with a bucket of popcorn in hand. Suddenly the screen in front of you actually starts playing a movie to your big suprise.

The movie has only been on for a few minutes when a jumpscare frightens you so bad that you wrap your arms around Michaels arm, hiding your face in his shoulder.

CUT

"Awesome Y/n I think we got it first try, Michael come look" the director praises.

Slowly loosing your grip on Michael you feel the slight tremor in your hands as your heart race.

"Hey are you okay? That felt very real" Michael asks concerned.

Blowing out air you smile sheepishly "Yeah I'm fine, I just don't like scary stuff at all and I didn't know there was going to be jumpscares and stuff. Caught me off guard"

"If anything ever gets to much while filming please let me know and we will take a break. I want you comfortable here Y/n" Michael captures your hand in his, squeezing it before letting go and walking over to the director.

Sinking down into your seat trying to calm the racing heart inside your chest. You really didn't deal with scary stuff well so this shoot would be very interesting. Michael had been so sweet towards you.

The rest of the filming during the movie scenes had gone really well. Just as the house scenes. Michael had always been close by with lingering touches always burning.

It was now 4 pm and you were extremely tired. The director had called a long break 10 minutes ago, the filming not starting until 9 tonight again. They were waiting for the dark. He had told them to get something to eat, drink and take a nap or something. A nap was sounding really good right now to be fair.

Taking a seat on the couch leaning back sighing. Vanessa had run out to grab everyone food and also some snacks for later. Shivering slight you glance around for a blanket but spot none.

Michael who had been keeping an eye on you immediately grabbing one before walking over to you.

"Here"

Looking up in suprise you see Michael standing there with a blanket extended towards you.

Grabbing it you pull it over yourself "Thank you Michael that was very sweet"

He flashes you a smile before sitting down next to you.

"So how are you feeling about everything? I do hope someone warned you that you will be faced with Zombies later tonight "

Grimacing slightly you nod "Yeah Vanessa warned me. I think it will be alright but if I start crying don't judge to harshly " you joke weakly.

Michael leans forward frowning slightly before grabbing your hands holding them tight. "Like I said earlier please let me know if anything gets to much. You are also a priority here."

Nodding silently casting your eyes down when a pair of fingers lifts your chin. "Look at me" Michael says calmly.

"Promise me that you will tell me?"

Blushing violently at the gesture you nod.

"In words Y/n"

"I promise Michael "

He nods pleased with your answer. Dropping his hand down to yours again.

Vanessa suddenly walks inside with multiple bags of food dropping them were you and Michael are sitting.

Michael keeps one steady hand over yours thanking Vanessa for grabbing everything. A few more people joins grabbing food and Michael scoots closer to you to make room.

He hands you some food and a drink making sure that you're comfortable and content. Butterflies swirl in your stomach the professional thoughts fading more and more.

Some time passes and the two of you are alone again. Suddenly the tiredness comes back tenfold, stifling a yawn you fight the sleepiness.

Michael chuckles fondly looking down at you "Sleepy?"

Humming in agreement now trying desperately to keep your eyes open.

"Go to sleep Y/n, you need the energy for later"

"But I like talking to you" your voice sounds whiny in your own ears but at the moment you don't care.

"I'll be here when you wake up, I won't move an inch" Michael smiles fondness shining in his eyes.

"Promise?"

"I pinky promise"

Content with his answer you get comfortable leaning a bit against Michael. His presence brings you peace and as you drift off you realise how nice this was.

Slowly coming back around you blink confusedly. The first thing you feel is a warm hand playing with your hair. It was a nice feeling. You are warm, cozy and safe.

"Good morning sleepy head "

Blinking a bit dazed you look up at Michael. Slowly realising that you are in fact leaning heavily against him as he plays with your hair.

A blush paints your cheeks as you sit up stretching upwards.

"How long was I out?"

"About 2 hours" Michael lets his hand drop but dosen't move an inch away from you.

"Thank you for letting me nap on you and I'm sorry for trapping you. Not so professional of me" You give Michael an apologetic look before looking away again.

"Hey it was no problem and you really are cute when you sleep" He throws it in so causally watching your reaction.

Your heart stutters slightly as you whip your head around facing him again. Did he just say cute?

Before you can respond Frank calls out for Michael and he gets up.

"You're going to catch flies soon Sweetheart" with that he leaves you at the sofa trying to process the conversation.

Shaking your head you try to collect your thoughts but everything feels like mush. Suddenly your stylist rushes up to you telling you that filming was starting earlier and she needed to get you ready.

Quickly following her you let her work the magic and get you screen ready. As you stand there Michaels words keep playing on repeat in your head. What was all this.

Vanessa shows up ushering you outside where the camera crew is setting up. It's dark outside now and everyone is running around trying to get the scenes ready.

The director comes up grabbing you and tells you to stand in the middle cameras pointing everywhere.

"Alright when you feel like it Y/n I want you to sprint towards us in the crew."

"When I feel like it?" You ask confused

"Trust me everything will make sense, just stand here and here put this on." He hands you a blindfold and you put it on deciding it's better to stop asking.

A few minutes pass until you hear footsteps shuffling around and as someone yells action the blindfold slips off.

You blink a couple of times before you realise to your big horror that you are surrounded by zombies.

Deep down you knew that this was fake, but right now you were downright terrified.

Slowly turning around you realise that someone is standing very close to you. Coming face to face with Michael but now as a zombie. That kick your legs into gear as you let out a scream before stumbling backwards running away from them.

Ducking behind the camera crew you slow down heart racing and breath short. Vanessa who had watched you tried to stop your attempt at fleeing but you had to get away.

After a few minutes of speed walking you find a quiet corner outside sinking down onto the pavement. There the tears broke free. You had never dealt well with scary stuff and Zombies were a big fear of yours.

Squeezing your eyes shut you try to forget the looks on their faces.

You know you are being silly those are just people in makeup but to you it felt real way to real.

You don't know how much time has passed sitting tightly curled into the corner when you hear footsteps coming closer.

The tears had slowly ebbed away the denim jacket had a big wet patch from where you had hid your face.

Someone stops in front of you and sinks down coming face to face with Michaels worried face.

"I told them the blindfold was a stupid idea, I'm so sorry Sweetheart"

Hearing his words makes the tears come back again. Michael immediately gathers you up in his arms holding you close whispering soft comforting words to you.

"I know I'm being silly but Zombies have always terrified me"

"Sweet girl you are not being silly it's okay to be scared. I should have done more to stop the suprise element "

Leaning heavily against Michael you slowly calm down wiping your tears. Sitting in silence you listen to Michael hearts beating steady.

"I told them that we are done for the night. You are coming with me and I'll take care of everything whenever you are ready" Michael tells you softly stroking the hair from your face.

The butterflies are back tenfold as you look at him. He must have mistaken your silence for hesitation and quickly goes on " If you want too of course"

"I would love that Michael " you smile softly at him shifting so you can stand up.

Your body protests as you finally get up from the ground. Everything hurting for a second.

Michael stands up looking at you softly "Y/n I like you a lot. Ever since I first met you, you've been on my mind" the confession is sincere his eyes shining with something soft.

A smile grace your lips as you look at him "I like you a lot too Michael"

A big grin makes it way onto his face as he takes a step closer standing close to you. Slowly he leans down capturing your lips with his.

The kiss is slow, full of yearning but so perfect.

Pulling away slightly he leans his forehead against yours.

"You are the most gorgeous women I've ever met. Come on let me take you home and spoil you my sweet silly girl"

Taking his hand you follow him away from the movie set.

Zombies and camera crew far away from your mind. Those being tomorrows problem, who knew that all it took was a Zombie to bring you two together.

[cel-brini]

nathan mackinnon swimming gif

[ragdollcraig]

I love Eric strobel

I love Eric strobel

I love Minnesota men

I love Eric strobel

he so cutie patootie

[mcclanahansbackhand]

Jack O’Callahan has me running in circles. A work in progress. For my miracle friend @songbirdkisses ! 

[fieldsofbone]

jack o’callahan + text posts

[sharksgoss]

https://www.tumblr.com/sharksgoss/814526983092535296/httpswwwtumblrcomsharksgoss81451308329061580

Will Cuylle is allegedly the same guy who was trying to get a girl from a bar to go home with him last summer in Toronto - she made a tiktok about it, she didn’t say his name however some people saw that she had just followed him on ig (he didn’t follow back and considering he has a gf that would make sense)

^

[ragdollcraig]

"He has a gf"

...and your not saying who?

[baura-bear]

do you think they explored each others bodies

[heateron]

jim morrison of the doors, 1968.

[cronotose]

JIM IS SO HARD TO DRAW FOR ME THIS IS THE ONLY GOOD DRAWING IVE EVER DONE OF HIM EVER i like the one on the left. the lyrics are from nicos song about how jim ignores her booty calls

[amamozarte]

Rocker potpourri

[nhlfthallsy]

will's grandma was in front of me for warmups and was pointing out and hyping up mack the whole time

[zacchios]

tiktok keeps muting the audio for this so I'm posting it here

[2007-08-17]

[keyblack-hl]

@scienced​

[atlasaurelius]

OH MY GOD I WAITED FOR A WHOLE MINUTE

[is-this-post-edible]

This post is… ed…edible…?

[unyieldingsilence]

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