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Jun 7

Mature Michael Fic • HIS • 18+ • part nine

{ part one } • MDNI

context: publicly dating the world's biggest pop star is a dream come true, except, it's revealed something you didn't quite expect. The inner workings of the industry is perhaps a little darker than you previously thought.

Is there a target on your back? Or are you and Michael just paranoid?

content warnings: sexual content. praise kinks. no breeding today but it will return, perhaps for a reason? Who said that? Minors DO NOT INTERACT. GROWN FOLK CONTENT.

Enjoy xx

“what did she just say?” Michael asks, voice low. He’s still leaning over me, looking straight at the TV, face blank.

I’m a little stunned, because I can’t believe I just heard that either. I tap his chest gently, and he moves off me, allowing me to sit up. I reach for the remote and turn the tv off, then stand, unsure of how to react because one, now the whole world knows we had some kind of confrontation, and two, she kind of just threatened me. And three… now I need to tell Michael that I cussed out his ex wife.

But more importantly… I’m lucky she didn’t have me shot? Who even says something like that? Perhaps if I didn’t know this industry better, I might’ve laughed this off, but… people have gotten got shot over less.

Michael stands up. I can see his mind is racing as he smoothes his palms down his pants. “What is she talking about? What happened on that flight?”

I hum, and briefly consider lying, but… what would that do? I clear my throat, stomach twisting. “She basically told me that you were a dog who’d come home eventually when he was done playing in the street, which I assumed was me. So I told her that we’d been fucking raw for two months and that I might even be pregnant, and I hope that news ruined her year. Then I said I didn’t give a fuck who she was.”

Michael stares at me for a long moment, then he half smiles. He looks like he’s about to full on grin then he fights it. He rubs the bridge of his nose and ducks his head, then huffs. “Daphne,” he scolds gently.

“It just came out of me. She was being rude, and like cornering me on a plane. I just snapped.”

“You think you’re pregnant?”

“No, I had my period last week,” I mumble. It kind of explained why I’d been so emotional over the note. As well as being hurt. The day after I’d thrown my phone across the room, Aunt Red had visited. “And why is that the bit you’re focussing on? She just said she could’ve had me shot.”

Michael blinks, realising I’m right. He steps back towards the bed and sits, rubbing his jaw. “We need to get you a security team. I don’t think you should go out for a while, just until things calm down.”

“Do you think she’d actually organise something like that?” I ask quietly.

“People get worked up over smaller things, Daphne. If she was bold enough to say it…”

“I don’t think she’d actually do it now. Everyone just heard her say that on national TV.”

Michael hums. There’s a knock on the door, and I hear one of his security guys ask for a word. “Just a minute,” he replies loudly, “what’s your schedule like for next week?”

“I have a gig tomorrow,” I say as he stands.

“Doing what?”

“It’s a shoot for a lingerie brand. All day.” I tuck my hair behind my ears, sighing. Michael just looks at me. “What?”

“Lingerie?”

I don’t know what that tone means, so I frown.

“Is it necessary?”

“I chose to do it,” I reply, still frowning. “Is that a problem?”

“What’s it for?”

“Lingerie.” I frown harder.

“Like print, or what?”

“Print. A magazine. Why?”

Now Michael’s frowning, glancing over me in my mini pink nightgown.

“Why?” I press again. When he doesn’t answer me immediately, I get irritated. “What is it!”

“Just, don’t want…” he mutters, rubbing his jaw again. “never mind.”

“Mikey, I’ve done bikini shoots before, this is no different.”

“I know, I’ve seen them,” he mutters, not looking at me as he walks towards the door. I raise my eyebrows. “I just don’t want people looking at you like that anymore.”

“Well, tough.”

He hums, low and annoyed, and I grin as he opens the bedroom door and steps out. I climb back into bed, just as my bedazzled cell phone starts ringing on my nightstand. I glance over at it.

It’s my dad.

I answer. “Hello?”

“Is this the woman your mother was telling me about?” He all but shouts down the phone, “the one on the news tonight?”

“That’s Michael’s ex wife, yeah.” I glance at the bedroom door, wondering what he’s discussing with his security guy.

“What a nasty piece of work. I’m gonna be making some calls and putting in a report to some guys I know in the city right now. Your mother is furious.”

“Dad, I don’t—”

“No one threatens my baby,” he says sternly, “I don’t give a damn who she is. Speak to your mother.”

The phone rustles.

“Daphne?” Mom’s voice comes through, “my angel baby, what happened? Are you safe? Where’s Michael?”

“He’s just outside the door, his security team is here and I’m fine.”

“Why would she say that!”

“I was a bit of a bitch to her, mom.”

“So? We’re girls, we can be a bit of a bitch to anyone! She wanted to harm you physically, that is going way too far. Speak to your father.”

The phone gets passed back to my dad, and for the next ten minutes he informs me of his next steps. He tells me who he’s called, and when I should expect to be contacted by them myself.

“She’ll find out who the hell we are, I’ll tell you that. Some of us don’t feel the need to shout about who we know, some of us work in silence.”

When I finally manage to calm my parents down, it’s very late. I’m just hanging up the phone when Michael comes back in, looking tired. “Who was that?”

“My own two person militia,” I chuckle. “Parents.” I add. He smiles softly. “They’re furious. And you know it’s serious if dad’s ranting about making calls at half eleven at night.” I giggle.

“It’s not funny, Daphne,” Michael murmurs, “you should be taking this seriously, like they are.”

I go quiet, smile fading as Michael comes to sit next to me on the bed. “This industry is a legacy and money making machine. People have big egos, especially if they’ve got a household name behind them. Lisa has been pissed off several times, humiliated in public and private. People have been hurt for much less.”

“You’re scaring me,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry baby, I just want to deal with this properly.”

“You want us to go back into hiding?” I ask, heart sinking into my stomach.

“No,” he replies softly but sternly, “just let me and your dad handle this, I don’t want you to worry.”

I smile softly at him, “okay.”

We get ready for bed, or really I wait for Michael to get ready, then he climbs in beside me. I snuggle up to him, breathing in his scent like a crack addict. “Thank you for coming over,” I whisper, feeling very cared for and protected.

Michael puts his arm around me, then his fingers trace themselves through my hair softly, brushing against my temple. I tip my chin up to look at the profile of his face in the dark and see he’s staring at the ceiling. “I can’t let anything happen to you,” he murmurs.

I lean up to kiss his jaw affectionately. Then he turns his head towards me, capturing my lips. I hum, loving how our lips settle together, how sweet this kiss feels. We peck each other gently a few times before I pull away, attempting to have some self control. I rest my head on his chest, and drift off a lot faster than I thought I would.

The next day, Michael comes with me to my lingerie shoot. As do several of his big security guys.

I’m greeting everyone, doing my thing, though most people are distracted by the fact Michael is just lingering on the sidelines of the set in dark clothes, big shades on, arms folded, like he’s my bodyguard too. He doesn’t introduce himself, either, which just makes everyone nervous.

I hear his name whispered a few times as my hair and make up are done. Then I’m shown the pieces I’m to wear. It’s like a more gothic, rock star vibe. A lot of black and reds. Not really my usual style but with the darker make up and bigger hair, it works.

As the set is still being put together a little with some small adjustments being made, I wander over to Michael as I do up my robe. “You know we can see you, right?” I tease. He smiles, reaching out to touch me. “You’re making everyone nervous.” I add.

“Can I see?” He asks, pulling at my robe. I smirk and undo it again, showing him the red set. I’ve got sheer red tights on a lot of gold jewellery. Even the heels they’ve given me are red with gold accents. If they did this set in pink I’d probably steal it. “This is very sexy,” he murmurs. My cheeks heat, but I smile coyly, giving him a little spin. He touches my hip gently, tracing the band of the panties. “I love this.”

“Easy,” I giggle. I’m aware the majority of the people on this set are watching us, even if they’re trying to be discreet. It occurs to me after a few seconds that perhaps he’s doing this on purpose. A territorial display for the other men on site.

“Daphne, we’re ready for you,” one of the organisers says, approaching carefully. She glances at Michael quickly, gripping her clipboard.

“Be right there,” I say lightly, then turn back to Mike. I shuffle over to him and kiss his cheek, “try to look less like a vampire over here, okay?”

He hums, but I’m already walking away, heels clicking. I shed my robe and move into position, getting quick low down from the photographer and art director on what they’d like me to do.

I find taking pictures, and being in front of a camera pretty easy, so the next few hours slip by without an issue. I change a few times, pose with the props they want me to, all the while trying my best not to sneak looks at Michael who’s edged closer and closer to the monitor where my shots are showing up. He doesn’t say anything for a while, but with every picture taken he nods. When the arts director plucks up enough courage to engage him in conversation, it takes all of five minutes before he’s fully involved.

“Chin down,” he says, standing beside the photographer, everyone watching in a mixture of awe and curiosity as he takes control. I follow his instruction, fixing my hair as I do so. “Push your ass out just a little bit,” he’s all professional, but the moment he adds that little touch of praise: “Just like that, well done.”

My vision turns hazy.

I do as I’m told, but I’m on auto pilot at this point. Cheeks tingling with an intense blush. The photographer is just nodding, ecstatic, capturing shot after shot rapidly as Michael tells me what to do.

“This is fucking phenomenal,” he compliments, looking down at his camera, then he’s back to taking pictures, and Michael’s just grinning at me. “Beautiful.”

They change me into a black set, full get up with little fastenings around my thighs, holding the stockings up. I’m in thin six inch heels, sliding a blazer on. “Do you have anything else?” Michael asks, watching.

The stylist is flustered immediately. “Um, like what?”

“She looks great in fur.”

“We have a leopard print one!” Someone calls from the racks. Michael nods, and even with his shades on I know he’s looking me over, taking me in as I stand there in lingerie and heels, hands on my hips.

I’m smirking, and so turned on I’ve actually lost my ability to talk and he’s just basking in it. I can’t believe he’s taken over this, and yet this seems exactly like his kind of thing. Directing, styling. All of it. It’s so fucking hot, I can’t stand it.

I’m back in front of the camera, dressed in lingerie and fur, balancing one leg up on a crate with an unlit cigarette in my mouth.

Michael’s back to watching the monitor, that small approving smile playing on his lips as he watches me pose. When I turn, flicking the long fur coat back from my body, and glance over my shoulder, he grins.

“That’s a wrap!” Someone calls, and the shoot finishes. The coat is slipped off my shoulders and I’m giving a robe to wrap up in immediately. I walk over to Michael, eagerly seeking another hit of praise.

“Look at these,” he says, bringing me closer, showing me the monitor where all the images taken have come up. “You look incredible,” he compliments, and I feel the eyes of some of the staff on me, on us, again. “Can one of you send this to me, actually,” he says, pointing to the shot on the screen of me glancing over my shoulder, fur coat mid-flick, revealing half my ass and my leg propped up on a crate.

“Of course, Mr Jackson, we'll have them printed for you.” the art director agrees, already scribbling down an address for him to post the photos too. “We can send you others too, if you want to pick some more out.”

“Oh my gosh,” I murmur, flushing and step away, heading back towards wardrobe to change. By the time I do, and it’s time to go, I’ve got a little gift bag of all the sets I wore to take home as a little thank you.

Michael and I step out into the street, exhaling with quiet relief when there’s no paparazzi. His driver opens the door for us, and we slip into the town car that has the blacked out windows this time. “How did I do?” I ask Michael once the door clicks shut. I rummage through the bag of lingerie and see a few extra pieces thrown in that I didn’t wear, and coo happily.

When Michael doesn’t answer me, I look up. He’s watching me, and only slides off his dark shades when I look at him. “Come here,” he murmurs. I’m moving immediately, crawling onto his lap.

When our lips meet, I’m straddling him, and all that unspent lust comes rushing back. I moan into his mouth, wrapping my arms around his neck. He leans to the right, and I giggle as I hear him tapping around for the button to raise the partition between us and his driver.

Then he’s kissing me back, pulling my hips closer, until I’m flush against his body and he’s gripping my ass with those big hands. “I think we should work together,” he murmurs as I tilt my head back and he kisses my neck. “You looked magical on camera.”

“What do you want me to do?” I ask breathlessly, head spinning.

“Perform for me in a short film,” he replies, kissing along my jugular vein, sliding his hands up my back. He grabs a handful of my ass over my yoga pants and squeezes.

“A short…” I trail off, not really concentrating, “What? like porn?”

“No,” he replies immediately, but then he’s chuckling, low and sexy, breathing in my scent as he pushes his face into my breasts. I blink rapidly, not sure I’m following because all my mind can think about is something else entirely. “No, I make short films for my music, baby.” He says softly into my cleavage.

“Oh.”

“You just want sex all the time, huh,” he murmurs.

“I want you, not just sex,” I say as he kisses my breasts and rubs my hips. I can feel my own heartbeat between my thighs and it’s driving me nuts. Michael pulls back and grins, so smug at the effect he has on me.

“So what do you say?”

“Sure, fine,” I agree, kissing him. I hold his jaw, feeling it move under my palms as he kisses me back, deep and slow. My tongue is in his mouth and he’s groaning softly as I grind my hips into him when the car stops.

“Sir, we’re here.” The driver says through a gap in the partition. I break the kiss and glance out the window. He’s brought me to a studio, since he needs to keep working on his album, and stated this morning he wasn’t interested in leaving me alone in LA right now.

My lips feel swollen as I climb off Michael’s lap and fix my appearance despite there being no paps outside, you can’t be too careful. They really could be anywhere, wanting more candid shots. We slip out the car and Mike takes my hand as we cross the sidewalk into the building. He has pretty long strides which are hard to keep up with in my flip flops.

Once inside he shows me the way, introducing me to a few people as we navigate through the building. “I’ve been to this studio before I think,” I say without thinking as I recognise the decor, then abruptly shut my mouth.

“When?” Michael asks, frowning. I purse my lips. “Oh.”

I laugh when his expression flattens, “you know I’ve dated other musicians.”

“Do you have to remind me?” He mutters.

“Hey, I have to deal with your ex wife.”

He sighs, then glances down at me, sliding his hand out of my grip then putting his arm around my shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he leans in to kiss my temple just as we walk down another hallway. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“I’m gonna milk this for such a long time,” I giggle, leaning into him. We enter a studio room where some of his team are already waiting. He introduces me, then I perch on a leather sofa at the edge of the room and watch Michael get to work.

This setting is so different to the studio sessions I’ve been to before. There’s no loud music or smoke clouding the air. Michael is very focussed and professional, murmuring things to his team every now and then, writing things down. When he does actually record, the lights are low and everyone listens. I’m transfixed, watching him test sounds, instruct and change things.

The evening crawls in quietly. I step out to grab dinner for everyone, then make my way home with soup, noodles, hot teas and more extra little bits to snack on. I slip back into the studio quietly, and Michael’s recording again, lights dimmed. He sings with his eyes closed, looking so serene and handsome.

The song he’s recording is a slow R&B song, the lyrics, from the bits that I've heard are sweet and enticing, so romantic. I put dinner down on a table and go back to watching him sing, my teeth latching onto my bottom lip. God, he's so attractive, it's insane.

As if he can sense me looking he opens his eyes, watching me through the glass. I wiggle my fingers gently in a wave, and he smiles, recording ad-libs to the chorus of the song that plays out of the speakers. I lean my weight in one hip, loving the way his voice rasps when he hits the stronger notes. I think back to that morning, with my project, taking the lead naturally, directing me. Making it better. I shiver as my mind replays the way he kissed me in the car on the way here next.

Michael takes a break after a few minutes and steps out of the booth.

“I brought soup and noodles,” I explain as he steps over to me, I glance up at him as he nears, then pressing a kiss against the edge of my mouth. “And tea.”

“Thanks, baby.” He grabs a tea, slaps my butt softly, and gets back to work, whilst everyone else helps themselves to food.

I’m in a giddy daze from that moment on, watching Michael work, listening to those rasps as he sings, that just hit my brain and my core at the perfect intensity. The expertise he exhibits as he tweaks and adjusts the song to get it just right, humming melodies then scribbling things down is just so...

He's such a professional, and I'm so turned on that it's just like I keep hitting this unbearable limit then cooling myself off forcefully, just to repeat the cycle every half hour or so.

I don't understand how I can be so attracted to someone, and yet feel so safe and relaxed. It's odd, because I always thought I'd have to give up one for the other. Attraction for safety, safety for attraction. But with Michael, he's safe and insanely hot. A rare and intoxicating combination that turns me into this absolute maniac.

When it hits really late evening, I'm fighting yawns every few minutes, but still greedy to hear more music. Though when Mike catches me fighting one for the fifth time, he decides to wrap up for the night. He could easily stay another few hours probably, and I'm about to suggest that, but from the way his sound engineers and produces are yawning too? It's probably for their benefit too that I keep my mouth shut.

Michael steps out the booth, glancing over me. He's spent all afternoon and evening working on one song, and I've only heard it in bits and pieces, and mostly just the melody. Not that many lyrics yet, aside from something about butterflies.

He's deep in thought as we walk out the studio, but he places his hand on my lower back, to let me know he's nearby physically, as we step out into the night. There are a few distant shutter clicks and flashes from across the street, but no shouts for attention as we head towards Michael's town car, with the blacked out windows.

We're back at my place, keeping our heads down as the paps clamour the car, their intensity just increasing because of Lisa's comments from last night. Just as I forgot about it for a few blissful hours, here come their shouts to remind me. "We should do something about those," Michael murmurs.

"I can't, they're on public land."

Michael hums, but doesn't push the topic as the car pulls up round the back and we slip out and into the house. It begins to gently rain as we ready for bed. I'm sluggish and sleepy, but Michael looks as awake as ever. "Not tired?" I wonder as he looks out my window. There's no view here other than the back yard and pool lights.

"Just thinking."

"About what?" I ask as I climb into bed.

"You living here," he replies, "I'd like to get you somewhere with a little more privacy. Don't like so many people knowing where you are all the time."

I feel warm all over and smile at him as he readjusts the curtains, pulls them tightly together. The sound of the rain muffles the distant noise of the city.

"And we need to get you better security. Someone who's here with you when I can't be. I saw the way those men looked at you on set today. Even my sound guys did it when you walked in."

"Michael," I purr at him, beckoning him over to the bed. "Relax, baby."

"I'm trying." He rubs the back of his neck.

"People looking at me doesn't mean anything's going to happen," I purr more at him as he sits down, and I climb over the bed towards him, placing my hands on his shoulders. He shifts, stretching his neck and I knead those muscles gently. "You're so tense," I murmur softly, kneeling behind him. "You work so hard, all the time." I lean in and kiss his cheek as he hums, exhaling slowly... gradually relaxing.

"I want you to feel safe."

"I do," I say softly, kissing his jaw, then his throat, all whilst still massaging those muscles. "With you, I do."

Though even as I say that, it does feel like there's some metaphorical door that I haven't seen behind, and Michael has. He's been in the industry since he was a kid, he probably knows too much, has seen way too much.

Michael turns and looks at me with those big doe eyes, and I tilt my head. We just look at each other for a few seconds, gazes soft. "I'm gonna take care of you," he murmurs.

"I'm gonna take care of you too," I whisper, leaning and kissing him gently. I would have devoured him there and then had tiredness not descended over my eyes like a dead weight.

"you should sleep," he says, voice low. His lips brush against mine as he speaks. I hum, nodding, and kiss him once more before I crawl over to my side of the bed and lie down. I pat the space next to me and he smirks, lying down too, though I know the moment I doze off, he's going to get up and probably pace around, fretting.

By the time the weekend comes pictures of Michael and I are everywhere. Snapshots heading to the studio, or him arriving at my house late at night. The news of him at my photoshoot has spread, though no pictures accompany it. Yet.

Part of the world claims we're rubbing the new relationship in Lisa's face, whilst the other part claims that Michael is allowed to act as he pleases, as he is divorced now. As for me, the consensus splits between naming me a home wrecker, or Hollywood's next it girl.

Most of that depends on my next move, as the critics (gossip channels) claim.

To escape the noise of the city for a bit, Michael and I head to a private vila in Palm Springs recommended to him by a friend. It's massive, with about twelve bedrooms, a huge pool, games room, bar-- the works. Oh, and staff.

We arrived in the late afternoon, had dinner cooked and served to us outside on the patio beside the pool, then most of the staff went home. We crack open a bottle of wine, then snuggle together on the couch, fire on, just talking. For the first time in a week I finally see him relax.

It's weird to think that three months ago, I was walking up to him convinced all I'd get out of him was a one night stand. Now look at us.

I'm a little tipsy when Mike suggests watching a movie. I make myself comfortable against him as he picks an old film, that's literally in black and white, and settles back. He murmurs that he's seen this exact film about a hundred times, and I'm gazing up at him, smiling, dazed and just... in love with him.

I'm crazy about him.

He glances down to where I'm tucked into his side, his arm around my shoulder. He does brief double take when he sees how I'm looking at him. His pupils swell, and a soft flush swarms his cheeks. He leans down and kisses me, and desire floods my system immediately.

I cup his cheek with my right hand as our mouths move together, tongues grazing. The kiss is deep, sensual and slow, and within a minute I'm already dizzy, wanting more. I moan softly, and Michael pushes closer.

I end up pressed against the back of this long cream couch, Mike leaning over me, hand between my thighs. We're kissing like crazy, so needy and breathless for each other.

He rubs my clit with those long nimble fingers over my baby blue jersey shorts, pleasure zipping up my spine. I'm squirming, so wet and excited that he could ask me to do anything in exchange for a taste of him and I'd do it.

Then he's sliding his hand under the band of my shorts and panties, pressing his fingers in close to my sex. He groans, feeling how wet I am as he dives his fingers along my slit, then ease them inside me, giving me a taste of what I crave. I'm whimpering against his mouth, gripping his white t-shirt into my fist, desire practically choking me with its intensity.

I'm already so sensitive and ready down there that I can hear his fingers pumping into me. He just watches me squirm with heavy lidded eyes, pupils blown, bottom lip tucked under his teeth.

He's begun to be able to tell when I'm about to cum without me even making a sound. My eyelashes flutter, my toes curl as my hips tilt towards him-- but then he's sliding his fingers out of me. I gasp at the loss, yet half second later I'm tracking his every move as he sucks my arousal off his fingers.

"Upstairs," he instructs and I'm up from the sofa, legs like jelly. He grabs the bottle of wine by the next, then he's after me, walking calmly as I hurry ahead. In view of the bedroom door, I'm peeling my clothes off, unhooking my bra, just dumping everything so by the time I get to the bed, I'm naked.

I twist to face him, panting, eyes razor focussed on him as he steps into the room, closes the door behind him. He takes a swig of wine from the bottle, eyes grazing over me. "God, Mike," I whisper.

The way he looks right now is about to make my knees buckle.

He leaves the wine on a table by the door and peels off his shirt. He's undoing his belt and pants as he walks towards me, eyes on me, scanning my breasts, my stomach, my sex, all of it.

His pants hit the floor, and I pounce, climbing onto him, arms around his neck, mouth locking with his as my legs wrap around his waist. He hasn't even got his boxers off yet, but I don't care, I can't wait. I need him.

Michael shifts onto the bed, one arm under me, holding me up and to him. He lays me on my back as we kiss, and I use my feet to push his boxers down. I part my thighs, sliding my hand down my stomach, touching myself. He ducks his head, watching, tongue grazing over his bottom lip as he angles his cock right at my entrance.

When our eyes meet again, he pushes inside, slipping in easily.

My back arches into his chest, and my head tips back into the pillows. His slow, purposeful thrusts start sending my body onto cloud nine. I'm murmuring praise, gasping and moaning, loving how easily our bodies fit together, how good he makes me feel.

I drag my eyes back to focus on Michael, pressed between my thighs, thrusting himself into me. His cheeks are flushed, eyelids so heavy he looks dazed. "You're fucking perfect," he whispers, voice husky. I moan in response, caressing his board shoulders. "I'm yours, you have me," he rasps. I whimper, sliding my palms from his shoulders to his cheeks. "Whatever you want, baby... you can have it."

My eyes threaten to roll back as an orgasm grows from my toes. I push against Mike's chest, but he can read my intentions, and shifts onto his back as I swing a leg over his hips. Then i'm easing him back into me, riding him.

I toss my head back, gasping and moaning as I rock my hips back and forth, chasing my orgasm. I hold Michael's waist as his large hands grip my hips, he's groaning in time with my movements, brows furrowed as his gaze drags over my body rocking on his lap.

Then I'm coming, and the pleasure is so intense my muscles lock up. I freeze, breaths hitching, nails digging into Mike's skin as he smirks lazily, smug and turned on, watching me tremble. My sex pulses around him, but instead of flipping me onto my back, he pulls me forward, lifting my hips, then thrusts into me from under me.

I squeak, so sensitive from my climax, but still feeling waves of pleasure as Mike pounds into me hard and fast, until he cums. He cries out, whole body trembling as he presses himself into me, holding me to him.

We're panting, gazes locking. My heart's still racing as I lean down to kiss him gently. "I love you," I murmur against his lips and lean up, drinking in his just-fucked look as he's pinned under me. He smiles, sleepily blinking at me.

"And I love you."

I giggle softly, then Michael turns me onto my back, and eases out of me. He takes care of me so sweetly, cleaning me up, pressing kisses against my abdomen, quietly giving away something he's thinking about I think. I'm not sure if he meant to or not.

I'm lying nude on the bed whilst he's in the bathroom, when I hear something. A quiet, staggered thump.

I sit up, skin prickling. "Was that you?" I ask.

"Huh?" The shower turns on.

I stare at the bedroom door, then slowly get up. When I get to it, I lock it. I hesitate for a few seconds, just starting to relax and I'm about to tell Michael that I'm paranoid when the loud sound of shattering glass comes from downstairs.

_______________________________________________

end notes: omg. okay so something about me I love it when plots get mad dramatic right when a couple wants to settle and be sweet. It's just so juicy to me, yfm.

anyway, let me know what you thought---- and also, which song you thought Michael might've been working on in the studio, as well as.... what might've happened at the end there.

I'm actually having way too much fun with this little fic, I even have memes saved and ready to post like what am I doing lmfaoooo

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also p.s: some of the users won't show up when I type them in, so I'm sorry if it doesn't work, I do post everyday just FYI so check back if you don't hear from me lmao xx

#michael jackson #michael jackson fanfiction #michael jackson smut #michael jackson x reader #michael jackson x you #applehead #michael jackson fanfic #fanfic smut #smutty fanfic #mj #mature michael jackson fanfiction #mature michael jackson #mature Michael Jackson era #mature michael jackson fanfic #invincible era #mature era #moonwalker #00s #bad era #king of pop #dangerous era #thriller era #smooth criminal #HIS #daphne x michael

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