Desire.

18+ smut

Pairing: dom!mature mike 2000’s era x bratty sub!reader.

Summary: After catching your boyfriend cheating, you run back to Neverland, where you've been working as the nanny for Michael’s kids. Michael uses his calm, dominant authority to pull the truth out of you, promises his lawyers will handle your ex, and takes total control. The built-up sexual tension finally breaks, ending with Michael completely claiming you as his.

18+ smut , mentioning mama, baby, angel , bratty reader , dom!’mike, sub-brattt!reader, a loooot of sexual tention, baby sitter , dirty talk , p in v , fingering, cumming , cheating, age gap , little bit fluff i guess not really , mature mike with plot A LOT MORE !!

The wrought-iron gates of Neverland Ranch swung open, welcoming you to what was supposed to be a temporary three-month nanny gig for Prince, Paris, and Bigi. At twenty-three, you were vibrant, opinionated, and relentlessly bratty—accustomed to whining until you got your way, flouting small rules, and demanding total attention. Yet, beneath the cheekiness, you took genuine care of the kids, which was why Michael tolerated—and secretly adored—your spoiled antics.

The Quiet After-Hours

Every evening, once the children were tucked into bed, your shift technically ended. But you rarely left right away. Instead, you’d trail into the main living room, kicking off your shoes and curling up on the plush sofa beside Michael.

Over steamy mugs of chamomile tea, a deep bond began to form. You found yourself pouring your heart out about your personal life, specifically your stagnant, frustrating relationship.

"He's just so distant, Mike," you complained one night, tossing your head back with a loud, dramatically exaggerated groan. "We barely talk, he ignores my calls, and he treats me like an afterthought!"

Michael sat beside you, impeccably dressed in a loose red silk shirt, his dark eyes fixed on you with an intense, quiet gravity. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice a low, soothing rasp. "He’s no good for you. A man who truly loves a woman doesn't make her feel invisible. You should have left him months ago."

"It's not that simple!" you pouted, crossing your arms and puffing out your chest. "We just bought a house together! The mortgage is in both our names, and breaking that contract is a total nightmare. I'm stuck."

Michael leaned in slightly, his gaze dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours. A dark, calculating flicker passed through his eyes—a quiet patience. He knew the boy was a fool, and he was simply waiting for the inevitable collapse.

"You're never stuck," Michael murmured, his thumb briefly, almost casually, tracing the line of your jaw, leaving your skin tingling long after his hand retreated. "You just need a man who knows how to handle you."

The Arrangement

A few weeks later, Michael called you into his office. He explained that his schedule was about to explode with upcoming tour preparations and late-night studio sessions. He needed you to start sleeping over at the ranch three to four nights a week to keep the children's routine stable.

"Fine," you huffed, leaning against his mahogany desk, twirling a lock of your hair and putting on your usual spoiled routine. "I'll do it. But only if I get the best guest room in the house. The big one right down the hall from your master suite. With the king bed and the balcony. Otherwise, no deal."

Michael chuckled, a smooth, deep sound that vibrated right through you. He stood up, slowly towering over your smaller frame, his mature presence instantly dwarfing your bratty defiance.

"You think you can make demands in my house, do you?" he asked smoothly, stepping so close you had to tilt your head back to look at him. His hand came up, long fingers cupping the back of your neck firmly, holding you in place. "You'll sleep where I put you, little girl. But luckily for you... I already had that exact room prepared for you."

Your heart did a sudden, violent flip against your ribs.

Rising Temperatures

Over the next month, the domestic intimacy between you blurred the lines beyond repair.

One afternoon, Michael called you into his dressing room to help him pick an outfit for a press meeting. You stood there, complaining loudly about his velvet jackets being too formal, when the bathroom door opened. Michael walked out wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped low around his hips, steam billowing out behind him. Droplets of water glistened on his chest and trickled down his stomach.

You froze, your mouth going dry, your bratty attitude completely evaporating. Michael noticed your wide-eyed gaze, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his lips as he deliberately took his time selecting a shirt right in front of you.

Another morning at 6:00 AM, he requested your presence in his bedroom to discuss the kids' weekend schedule. You opened the door to find him lounging under the silk sheets, bare-chested, wearing only his black drawers.

"Come sit," he commanded softly, patting the edge of the mattress.

You tiptoed over, sitting on the very edge of the bed, intensely aware of his long, muscular legs just inches from yours. As you talked, Michael reached out, casually pulling you back until you were half-reclining against his chest. Late-night conversations quickly turned into long, quiet snuggling sessions on the sofa, his long fingers absentmindedly stroking your hair while your mind raced with unexpressed desire.

The Betrayal

The breaking point arrived on a rainy Thursday night. You drove back to the house you shared with your boyfriend to gather more clothes for your extended stay at Neverland.

You unlocked the front door quietly, only to hear soft giggles coming from the upstairs bedroom. Walking up the stairs, your heart sank into your stomach. You pushed the door open to find your boyfriend in bed with another woman.

No words were exchanged. You didn't scream, nor did you give him the satisfaction of a scene. You simply dropped your house keys on the kitchen counter, grabbed your duffel bag, and drove back through the dark toward Neverland, feeling utterly numb, humiliated, and raw.

When you arrived back at the ranch, you bypassed the main living space entirely. You didn't want to talk to Michael—you felt too exposed, too small. But Michael had heard your car pull up. He knew something was wrong the moment you snuck past his room.

The Confrontation

You retreated to your guest suite, locked the door, and took a long, blistering shower, trying to wash the sight of the betrayal off your skin.

When you stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing behind you, wrapped tightly in nothing but a plush white bath towel tucked over your chest, your heart stopped.

Michael was sitting right in the center of your king-sized bed.

He had shed his jacket, wearing only a unbuttoned black silk shirt and trousers. His arms were folded, his dark, piercing eyes locked onto you with an absolute, unyielding dominance that made your knees instantly weak.

"Michael..." you gasped, clutching the towel tighter to your chest. "What are you doing in here? I'm tired, I just want to go to sleep."

"Sit down, Y/N," he commanded, his voice dropping into a low, velvety rasp that echoed through the quiet room. It wasn't a request.

"No, Mike, please—"

"I said, sit down," he repeated, his tone so dark and possessively firm that your habitual bratty urge to resist instantly collapsed. Your submissive core took over entirely.

You walked over with trembling legs, sitting on the edge of the mattress, avoiding his eyes.

Michael shifted, moving up behind you. His large, warm hands settled heavily onto your bare shoulders, his long fingers digging subtly into your muscles, locking you right where he wanted you. He leaned down, his breath fanning hot against the shell of your ear.

"You went to that house tonight," Michael whispered, his voice dripping with smooth, manipulative authority. "And you came back looking like someone tore your heart out. Tell me what that little boy did to you, Y/N. You know you can't lie to me. You know I'm not leaving this room until you tell me everything."

A tear slipped down your cheek. "I caught him... with someone else. In our bed."

A heavy, dangerous silence filled the room. You could feel the sudden, fierce heat radiating off Michael’s body. His grip on your shoulders tightened just a fraction, a possessive, dark thrill flashing through his veins.

"Good," Michael murmured raspy into your ear, shocking you. "Good. Because now you finally realize what I've known for three months. You were never his. You were always meant to be mine."

The Claiming

Before you could process his words, Michael’s hand slid from your shoulder down to the front of your towel. With one slow, deliberate tug, he unpinned the tuck. The heavy terrycloth fell to your waist, exposing your bare breasts to the cool air of the room.

You gasped, trying to pull the towel back up out of pure reflex. "Michael—"

"Don't," he commanded softly, catching your wrists in one hand and wrapping his long fingers around them, easily pinning both your hands together behind your back. His grip was an iron vise, completely rendering you helpless. "Look at me, Y/N."

You looked up, breathless, meeting his dark, hooded eyes. The sheer age gap, his decades of authority, and his absolute dominance completely overwhelmed your senses.

"You've been bratty with me for months," Michael purred softly, leaning in until his lips brushed against yours, his breath hot and sweet. "Demanding things. Teasing me. Pushing my patience. You wanted my attention so badly... and now you have every single bit of it. Are you going to be a good girl for me now?"

"Yes, Michael... yes," you whimpered, completely submissive, yielding entirely to his control.

"Say it properly mama," he growled lightly against your lips, his free hand sliding down to cup your breast, his thumb aggressively tracing your erect nipple, making you arch your back with a sharp moan.

"Please, Michael... I'll be good," you whimpered, tears of pleasure welling in your eyes. "I'm yours."

"That's my angel," he hummed darkly.

Michael leaned down, capturing your mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue slid into your mouth, slick and demanding, claiming you entirely while his hand squeezed your waist, pulling your bare chest flush against his silk shirt. You tasted the warm, sweet scent of him, whimpering softly into his mouth as his hands roamed freely over your exposed skin, marking every inch of you as his.

He pulled back just enough to look down at your flushed face, his breathing heavy and raspy. He released your wrists, using his hands to part your thighs, sliding his fingers down to the damp center between your legs.

"Look at how wet you are for me baby," Michael whispered, his dark voice heavy with filthy praise. His fingers slid effortlessly into your heat, coaxing a loud, helpless moan from your throat. "All that bratty talk, but deep down, you just wanted your boss to take control, didn't you?"

"Yes... oh god, Mike, please!" you sobbed softly, writhing beneath his touch as his fingers set a agonizingly perfect rhythm inside you.

"Shh, quiet now,," he murmured, his thumb rubbing over your swollen clitoris with deliberate, tormenting precision. "Let me show you how a real man treats his woman."

Michael stood up briefly, stripping off his shirt and trousers until he stood fully bare beside the bed. His body was lean, elegant, and powerfully built. He crawled back over you, spreading your legs wide and positioning himself between your thighs.

He rested his full weight over you, his deep brown eyes locking onto yours as he slowly aligned his broad tip with your entrance.

"You're never going back to that house," Michael whispered, his voice dropping into a thick, hypnotic command. "Tomorrow, my lawyers will wipe him out. But tonight... you belong to me."

With one slow, heavy thrust, Michael pushed deep inside you, filling you completely.

You threw your head back, a loud, breathless scream ripping from your throat as your hands flew up to grip his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. The feeling of him—so thick, so mature, stretching you to your absolute limit—sent a violent wave of heat straight down your spine.

"Ah, fuck, mama... you fit me so perfectly," Michael groaned, a rare, filthy slip of his composure slipping out as he began to establish a slow, deep, devastating rhythm.

Every thrust was deliberate and heavy, pounding deep into your sweet spot, making the headboard clatter rhythmically against the wall. He gripped your hips firmly, lifting you to meet each power-packed stroke, refusing to let you escape a single sensation.

"Look at me while I take you baby ," Michael commanded, his voice raspy and breathless.

You opened your heavy eyes, tears of intense pleasure spilling over your cheeks as you looked into his dark, hungry gaze. "Michael... it's too much, I'm going to—"

"Not yet," he growled softly, leaning down to capture your nipple in his mouth, sucking hard while his hips slammed relentlessly against yours. "You hold it for me. You take every inch."

The friction was overwhelming, the wet, desperate sound of your bodies crashing together echoing throughout the vast bedroom. Michael dirty-talked continuously into your ear—telling you how soft you were, how much he had wanted you, how he was going to keep you locked in his bed for days until you forgot your ex's name entirely.

Your submissive body couldn't hold out against his relentless dominance. Within minutes, your walls clamped violently tight around his length, a shattered, screaming climax crashing over you in intense, blinding waves.

Feeling your slick walls pulsing around him pushed Michael over the edge. With a low, guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, his hips trembling as he poured his hot, heavy release deep within your core, claiming you entirely.

Afterward, the room was silent save for the heavy, lingering sound of your mingled breathing.

Michael didn't pull away immediately. He rested his heavy frame over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet, warm kisses against your damp skin. Slowly, he rolled onto his side, pulling you flush against his bare chest and wrapping his long arms around your waist, tucking you safely beneath the warm duvet.

"You're staying right here," Michael whispered softly into your hair, his voice returning to that gentle, familiar warmth, though his possessive grip remained tight. "No more tears. No more bad decisions. You're home now, angel."

Curled against his chest, completely surrendered and deeply content, you closed your eyes and finally drifted off to sleep.

Thankyou guys so much for reading!!

It means the world to make , i wish it was a bit longer.

If you have any requests comment below!

Love yall

After stumbling out of the VIP booth, my heart was hammering against my ribs so hard it felt painful. I hurried down the dimmed hallway toward the restrooms, my hands trembling as I pushed the door open. I found my friend leaning over the sink, splashing cold water onto her face.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly, keeping my distance as the guilt began its slow, suffocating crawl into my chest.

She wiped her face with a paper towel, her cheeks pale. "I... I just drank way too much," she mumbled, not meeting my eyes. "My stomach is completely turned upside down. I’m going home Y/N. I'm calling a taxi."

I offered to wait with her outside. The cool night air hit my skin, but it did nothing to clear the sudden, sickening fog in my head. We stood on the curb in a heavy, awkward silence a stark contrast to the chaotic heat of the booth just twenty minutes prior. Neither of us mentioned Michael. Neither of us mentioned what we had just done.

When her taxi finally pulled up, she gave me a quick, distracted hug and slid into the backseat. I watched the taillights disappear around the corner before ordering my own ride home.

The entire drive back was a blur of streetlights and silent terror. But the moment I stepped inside my apartment and locked the door behind me, the numb wall I had built up completely shattered.

I dropped my bag on the floor and collapsed onto the edge of my bed. The tears came suddenly, heavy and uncontrollable, burning hot down my cheeks. A total breakdown.

It was an overwhelming wave of pure guilt, embarrassment, and sheer panic. The alcohol had completely faded, leaving behind the raw, undeniable reality of what had happened. I covered my face with my shaking hands, sobbing into the quiet room. How could I let things get so out of hand? Why did I let the liquor take control like that?

And worst of all... the memory of Michael’s soft, hypnotic eyes staring into mine kept flashing behind my eyelids, making the ache in my chest burn even worse. I had exposed every vulnerable, desperate part of myself to him and now, I had to live with the unbearable shame of it.

Two agonizing weeks went by in a haze of overthinking. Y/N stayed far away from the nightlife, insulating herself in her apartment to avoid processing what had happened in that VIP booth.

Then, her phone rang.

It was the girl from the club hardly a close friend, just someone she occasionally went out with for quick drinks and dancing. They had never connected on a personal level, but seeing her name on the screen made Y/N’s heart drop into her stomach anyway. She took a deep breath and answered.

"Hey, Y/N... I felt really fucked up about not reaching out to you these past two weeks," her club friend started, her tone a mix of guilt and casual curiosity. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you at the club the last two weekends. What happened to you?"

"I've just... really not been feeling well lately," Y/N replied evasively, wrapping her arms around herself. She knew exactly why, but there was no way she was going to talk about it. "I don't really want to get into it."

"Fair enough," her friend said, before dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Well... I actually saw Michael at the club both weekends."

Y/N froze, her breath catching instantly.

"He kept asking about you, Y/N. Like, literally only asking about you. He seemed really worried that you just vanished." Her friend paused. "He asked if I could give him your phone number so he could contact you directly. I told him I had to check with you first before giving it out especially since I hadn't even talked to you myself since that night."

A heavy knot twisted in Y/N’s chest. "What did he say?"

"Honestly? He got pretty cold with me after that," her friend admitted with a sigh. "He just walked away and spent the rest of the night looking down and quiet. Not his usual self at all." Her friend let out a cynical laugh. "Anyway, my own night turned into a total nightmare. My boyfriend lost his mind because I got home so late that day. We got into this massive, explosive fight."

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Wait... you have a boyfriend? I didn't even know you were in a relationship. You literally cheated on him!"

"Girl, please," her friend scoffed, waving it off through the phone. "It happens all the time. That's just the lifestyle I live. It’s really not that deep."

"You... you don't feel guilty at all about what happened with Michael?" Y/N asked, stunned by the sheer detachment in her voice.

"Oh, I forgot about that whole thing ages ago," her friend laughed lightly. "It was just a wild night, this and that. Don't stress over it."

Y/N sat in stunned silence on her couch, holding the phone tight. While her friend treated the entire night like a disposable, forgotten thrill, Michael was out there searching for her and the thought of his soft, worried dark eyes made her chest ache all over again.

The days following that phone call slowly slipped back into a quiet routine. Y/N tried her best to bury the memories of that night deep down, picking up the broken pieces of her everyday life and moving forward.

Every morning, she walked the exact same route down the street to her favorite local coffee shop for a fresh hot coffee and breakfast. It was her safe haven a comforting, predictable constant amidst all the emotional chaos of the past few weeks.

As she stood at the counter that morning waiting for her order, the barista a friendly woman who served Y/N almost every day looked at her with a curious, knowing expression.

"Oh, Y/N, before I forget," the woman said, reaching underneath the register. "A gentleman named Bill came in here yesterday afternoon. He left this for you and emphasized that it was extremely important it got directly to you."

Y/N’s brows furrowed in complete confusion. Bill? Who on earth is Bill?

She reached out and took the heavy, cream-colored envelope. Her name was written across the front in an amazingly elegant, delicate handwriting. In a single second, a forgotten memory flashed through her mind: during their quiet conversation in the VIP booth, back when the alcohol had made her talk so freely, she had offhandedly mentioned this exact coffee shop to Michael, gushing about how she got her breakfast here every single morning.

He hadn't forgotten a single word. Despite the drinks, the heat, and everything that had transpired, he had remembered every tiny detail.

With trembling fingers, Y/N slid her thumb under the seal and unfolded the thick paper inside.

The letter read:

Dear Y/N,

I hope you’re doing okay and taking sweet care of yourself.

I know you ran away that night, and I can feel that you’ve been hiding from me. Bill my security guard promised me he would bring this to your favorite spot without bothering you. I didn’t want to scare you, but I couldn’t just let you disappear like that.

Please don’t be ashamed, mama . You don’t have to regret anything that happened between us. I didn’t write this to overwhelm you or force you into anything… I just really need to see you again. Just you and me this time. No noise, no drinks, no distractions.

If you’re willing to talk to me, please call the number below. I’ll be waiting for as long as it takes.

Michael

(#562595-5-)

After Y/N got home from work she couldn’t help but looked at the letter Michael wrote for her.

Y/N held her breath, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs. For a second, complete silence stretched over the line as she fought the urge to hang up.

"It's... it's Y/N," she whispered softly into the receiver, her voice barely above a breath.

There was a sudden pause on the other end, followed by the quiet rustle of sheets as Michael shifted in bed. All traces of sleep instantly melted from his tone, replaced by a warm, delicate sigh of relief.

"Y/N...?" Michael murmured, his voice high, gentle, and smooth as silk. "Gosh... you actually called. I'm... I'm so glad. I was hoping it was you."

He took a quiet, steady breath, the sincerity in his voice cutting right through the late-night quiet of her room.

"I know it's really late, but... I've been thinking about you so much mama’” he said softly, a modest, tender tone in his words. "I was so worried after you left. Are you... are you doing okay?"

Y/N swallowed hard, clutching the phone tighter against her ear. "I'm... I'm alright, Michael. I just... I saw your note."

"I'm really sorry if I frightened you with that," Michael whispered, his voice dripping with pure consideration. "I just... I really wanted to talk to you. Just you. I truly missed you, Y/N."

Y/N stood frozen in her quiet room, her hand shaking so badly that the phone rattled against her ear. She tried to formulate a sentence, but all that came out was a soft, breathy stumble.

"I... I just—I didn't... I mean, I received the note, but..." she faltered, her face burning with heat.

On the other side of the line, Michael softly cut in. His voice was a gentle, soothing murmur, full of warmth, reassuring her before she could panic.

"It's okay, Y/N... just take a breath," Michael whispered softly, taking over the conversation. "You don't have to stumble or explain anything to me. I'm just... I'm so happy to hear your voice. I'm really glad you called."

He settled deeper into his bed, the soft rustle of his sheets rustling over the receiver as he took a light, airy breath.

"I've been sitting here thinking about you for days," Michael continued, his tone sweet, quiet, and deeply sincere. "I honestly don't know why, but my mind just keeps going back to you. I couldn't stop thinking about that night, and... I just really felt like we needed to talk. Not about the crowd, or the drinks, or anything silly like that. Just about us. You and me."

Y/N swallowed hard, clutching the receiver tighter. "Michael, I—I was just so..."

"Ssh, I know... I know you were scared, and I know it was overwhelming," he cut in gently, his voice like velvet in the quiet of the night. "That's why I don't want us to talk over the phone like this. I want to see you properly."

He took a short pause, his tone turning eager yet modest.

"I'm staying at a private apartment here in Manhattan while i’m working on The Wiz. It's quiet here. Very peaceful. No cameras, no people... just a safe space. Would you... could you please come over tomorrow evening? Bill can pick you up and bring you straight here. We can just sit down, and talk?”

Y/N’s lips parted, another quiet, nervous stumble escaping her throat. "Tomorrow...? I—I don't know, Michael, I have work until—"

"Bill can wait for you right outside your boutique whenever you finish," Michael interrupted softly, his tone as sweet and gentle as a lullaby. "You don't have to worry about a single thing, Y/N. No one will see you. I just... I really want to see you.Okay?"

She bit her lower lip, staring at the floor as her heart did a nervous flutter. Listening to the quiet, genuine hope in his voice, every defense she had built up over the past two weeks completely crumbled.

"Okay," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible. "Okay, I'll... I'll come."

The next evening flew by in an anxious blur. The moment Y/N stepped out of the boutique after her shift, a sleek black sedan was already idling quietly by the curb. Bill opened the rear door with a respectful nod, driving her straight through the glowing, busy streets of Manhattan to an discreet, high-end residential building.

Bill guided her up a private elevator that opened directly into a spacious, beautifully lit penthouse apartment. Soft, warm light illuminated the room, filled with classic art, plush velvet furniture, and the gentle sound of classical music playing softly in the background.

"He's waiting for you in the living room, miss," Bill said politely before stepping back into the hall.

Y/N took a deep, trembling breath and stepped further into the quiet apartment.

Standing by the large floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city skyline was Michael. He was dressed casually in an oversized silk shirt and dark trousers, his long curls falling loosely around his shoulders. As he turned around, his large, dark eyes met hers, and a wide, wonderfully tender smile spread across his face.

"Y/N..." Michael breathed softly, stepping toward her with a gentle, airy grace. "You made it. You look... so beautiful."

Y/N stood completely still near the entryway, her fingers nervously clutching the strap of her bag. Hearing him say those words in person made her throat tighten, her heart pounding against her ribs.

"I... thank you, Michael," she stammered, her voice soft and hesitant as she kept her gaze lowered. "Your place is... it's really beautiful."

Michael smiled warmly, noticing her tension right away. He walked over with slow, deliberate steps, his movement light and fluid. Without hesitation, he reached out and gently took her bag from her hands, setting it on a nearby table before taking her cold, trembling hand into his own warm palm.

"Come sit down," he murmured softly, leading her over to the large, plush sofa. "Please, don't be nervous. There's no reason to be afraid here."

Y/N sat on the edge of the cushion, her body still stiff. Michael sat right beside her, turning his body toward her. He didn't rush or pull her close; instead, he just looked at her with those large, expressive eyes, full of genuine care and curiosity.

"I know why you ran away that night," Michael started, his voice smooth, soft, and remarkably clear in the quiet room. "And I know what you must be thinking... about me, about your friend, about everything that happened in that booth. But I need you to know something, Y/N."

He reached out, his long fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was so light it felt like a feather against her cheek, making her breath hitch.

"I haven't been able to get you out of my head," Michael whispered, looking straight into her eyes with an undeniable intensity. "That night was crazy, yes... but the only part that felt real to me was looking at you. The way you touched me, the way you looked at me... I felt something shift between us. And I couldn't just let you disappear without telling you that."

Y/N swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper. "Michael, I... I thought I was just... a part of the fun for you. With her."

Michael shook his head slowly, a faint, tender smile touching his lips. "Never. You could never be just that to me."

Y/N took a deep breath, keeping her eyes fixed on her hands in her lap. The initial panic was fading, replaced by a grounded, necessary honesty.

"Michael... it's not even about me being jealous," she said softly, her voice hesitant. "The truth is, I did like you. I felt a draw toward you every time we saw each other in the club. But I didn't realize how much I was actually attracted to you until... until that whole thing was actually happening."

Michael didn't interrupt. He sat completely still, giving her his full attention, his expressive eyes watching her intently.

"Watching you have sex with her... it was just too much," Y/N continued, stumbling slightly over the words. "Even though she's just a club acquaintance, I was literally sitting right there watching it happen. I found myself in a situation I would never normally get into. It felt messy, and it felt dirty."

She finally looked up at him, her chest tight.

"If something was ever going to happen between us, I wanted it to be normal. I wanted a clean slate, not... a wild, chaotic group thing in a dark VIP booth while everyone was drinking. The way it all started was just completely wrong. And as much as I find you attractive and liked talking to you... I just don't feel comfortable with how things went down. I don't see how anything real can come out of a start like that."

Michael listened to every word, his face softening into a quiet, understanding stillness. He didn't look offended or angry just genuinely reflective.

"I understand," Michael murmured, his voice high, gentle, and quiet in the room. "Gosh... when you put it like that, I don't blame you at all, Y/N. That night was... it was crazy. It wasn't the right way to meet someone properly."

He leaned in a bit closer, his tone turning earnest and quiet.

"I didn't bring you here to force anything or pretend that night wasn't messy," he said softly, looking at her with wide, clear eyes. "I just really wanted you to know that I respect you. I don't look at you like some random girl from a club. If you don't feel comfortable, I won't push you... but I'd really love the chance to just show you who I am. Normally."

As the heavy weight of her confession lifted into the quiet room, Y/N felt the tension in her shoulders finally begin to melt away. For the first time all evening, she let out a long, quiet breath, relaxing back into the soft cushions of the sofa. Speaking her mind had grounded her.

Michael noticed the subtle change immediately. The guarded posture was gone, replaced by a softer, more open presence. A curious, thoughtful glint entered his dark eyes as he watched her. He leaned back slightly, resting one elbow on the armrest, his head tilted.

"Can I ask you something... honest?" Michael murmured, his voice high, velvety, and gentle, yet carrying a new, quiet undercurrent of focus. "Do you... do you regret it? Having sex with me that night?"

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the directness of the question. She bit her lower lip, looking down for a second before looking back up into his soft, attentive gaze.

"No," she whispered honestly, her cheeks flushing warm. "I don't regret that part. It... it actually felt really good."

The moment those words left her lips, a subtle shift took over the room. The quiet, timid atmosphere shifted into something warmer, charged with an undeniable, electric stillness. Michael’s dark eyes widened just a fraction, a slow, modest smirk subtly tugging at the corner of his lips.

Oh... he thought to himself, a spark of playful confidence lighting up inside him.

He uncrossed his legs and leaned in closer, his voice dropping an octave into a low, smooth, hypnotic murmur that vibrated right through her.

"Is that so...?" Michael whispered, his gaze locking onto hers with a sudden, intense focus. "How good was it, Y/N? Tell me... how much did you really like it?"

Y/N’s breath hitched instantly. All her nervousness rushed right back, her face burning hot as she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, my gosh... Michael, stop," she stammered, her voice muffled behind her palms.

Michael let out a soft, sweet laugh a melodic, quiet sound that echoed in the quiet space. He reached out with effortless grace, gently taking hold of her wrists and slowly pulling her hands away from her face, forcing her to look at him. His large, dark eyes were glowing with a playful, teasing intensity.

"No, don't hide," Michael murmured softly, keeping a tender yet firm grip on her hands. "Tell me. I really want to know... what did it feel like for you?"

Y/N swallowed hard, the heat on her cheeks deepening as she tried to pull her hands back, but Michael kept his grip light and firm. His dark eyes remained fixed on hers, holding her completely captive in the quiet intensity of the room.

"I... I haven't really been with many people, Michael," she confessed, her voice barely a whisper, stumbling over her words. "Before that night, there was only... only my ex-boyfriend. We were together for years, and... in all those years, I never felt anything like what I felt with you that night. It was... something I've literally never experienced before."

Michael’s eyes softened, a faint, breathy exhale escaping his lips. Hearing that cut straight through his lingering playfulness, replacing it with a quiet, powerful thrill. The knowledge that a single, chaotic night with him had surpassed years of her past weighed heavily in the air between them.

"Really...?" Michael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, velvety tone that made her skin prickle.

Without giving her time to hide again, he leaned in closer. His long fingers gently slid from her wrists up to the sides of her neck, his thumb tracing the soft curve of her jawline. Y/N’s heart hammered violently against her ribs, completely frozen under his touch.

Slowly, deliberately, Michael closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips against hers.

The kiss was soft, sweet, and overwhelmingly deep—a slow, tender heat that instantly threatened to pull her under. Y/N gasped softly into his mouth, her hands instinctively reaching up to clutch at the silk fabric of his shirt as she kissed him back, completely lost in the sensation for a few breathless seconds.

But as the heat rapidly built up, the overwhelming reality of where they were and how fast things were moving suddenly crashed back into her mind. Panic flared in her chest.

Before it could carry her away completely, Y/N abruptly pulled her head back, breaking the kiss. She pressed her palm flat against his chest to gently push him away, her breath coming in quick, ragged gasps as she stared at him with wide, flustered eyes.

Michael paused instantly, his hands hovering in the air, his dark eyes wide with a mix of gentle surprise and deep, quiet concern as he looked at her flushed face.

Y/N took a quick step back, placing a little distance between them as she smoothed down her clothes, her chest still heaving from the sudden rush of intimacy.

"We... we really shouldn't do this right now, Michael," she stammered, her voice breathless and flustered. "I'm sorry, I just... I need time to think about all of this. I need to let everything we just talked about actually settle in my head."

Michael immediately dropped his hands, nodding slowly with absolute respect. The sudden urge in his eyes softened back into that tender, understanding look.

"I understand," Michael murmured gently, his voice smooth and reassuring. "I don't want to rush you, Y/N. Truly. Are you... do you still want to stay for a bit? Just to relax?"

"No, I think... I think I should just go home for tonight," she whispered, giving him a quiet, appreciative look.

Michael gave her a small, sweet smile, not pushing her for a second more. "Okay. Bill will take you straight home. Please... take all the time you need."

The ride back through the quiet streets of Manhattan was silent for the first fifteen minutes. Y/N leaned her head against the cool window, her mind spinning with everything Michael had said and the undeniable way her body had reacted to him.

From the driver's seat, Bill caught her eye in the rearview mirror before speaking up in a calm, grounded voice.

"You know..." Bill began, keeping his eyes on the road. "He's talked about you quite a lot these past two weeks."

Y/N’s head snapped up, her eyes widening slightly. "Oh... seriously?"

"Yeah," Bill said with a subtle, nod. "I don't know the full story of what happened between you two in that club, miss, and it's not my business to ask. But I've worked with Michael for a long time. I've never seen him get hung up on someone like this. He was genuinely worried about you."

Bill paused, letting his words sit in the quiet car before adding, "Just... give him a real chance to show you who he actually is. Away from all the noise."

His words hit heavy in her chest, staying with her long after he pulled up to her building and wished her a good night.

A few weeks passed quietly. Y/N stayed far away from the club scene, completely stepping back from that world. Unbeknownst to her, Michael hadn't returned to the club either he had completely wiped his hands of the place.

Eventually, the dark cloud over Y/N began to lift. It was her close friend's birthday a real, true friend who knew nothing about the situation with Michael. To celebrate, the group decided to go to an upscale, elegant skybar lounge overlooking the city skyline. Being surrounded by her genuine inner circle felt like a breath of fresh air, and for the first time in weeks, Y/N felt genuinely relaxed, happy, and light.

As the night went on, the drinks flowed a little too easily. The warm buzz quickly turned into a heavy, hazy intoxication. Suddenly, sitting in the crowded, stylish sky bar, a sudden, overwhelming wave hit her. She just knew in her gut: I have to see Michael.

She excused herself and walked over to the back hallway where the wall-mounted payphone hung. With slightly unsteadily hands, she pulled open her purse, retrieving the folded, worn slip of paper with Michael's phone number on it.

She put in the coins, lifted the heavy receiver, and dialed the digits.

The phone rang a few times before a familiar, smooth voice answered on the line. "Hello...?"

"Michael...?" she mumbled into the receiver.

"Y/N?" Michael’s voice brightened instantly, though he sounded a bit cautious. "... you called. I haven't heard from you in a while, I... I really hope everything is okay?"

Y/N leaned her forehead against the cool metal of the payphone, her head spinning slightly from the alcohol. She didn't want to explain or hesitate anymore.

"Please... can you send a car to pick me up and bring me to you?" she said urgently, her tone leaving no room for argument.

There was a brief, stunned pause on his end before he answered, his tone turning focused and serious. "Where are you?"

She quickly read out the address of the skybar from the lounge's matches resting by the phone.

"Okay," Michael said softly, his voice firm yet deeply reassuring. "Stay right where you are. I'm sending Bill right now."

The line went dead as he hung up to make the call.

She said goodbye to her friends and went downstairs waiting infront of the building for bill to show up

The car ride was calm and quiet as she was nervous to see Michael yet confident as the alcohol was taking over her thoughts.

She needed to see him

As she arrived she went straight inside and saw him inside the living room writing

He slowly stood up “hey-“ he started but she quickly interrupted that by walking towards him and pressing her lips onto his.

It was a long passionate kiss as they eventually broke away

She shook her head softly against his, her breath warm against his skin.

"No more running," she whispered, her hands sliding up into his soft, dark curls.

Michael let out a low, breathy sigh of relief, the tension completely draining from his body. Without breaking eye contact, he swept her up into his arms effortlessly, cradling her against his chest. She rested her head against his shoulder, listening to the rapid, heavy thud of his heartbeat right against her ear.

He carried her down the softly lit hallway of the penthouse into his bedroom. The room was quiet and cool, illuminated only by the faint golden glow of the Manhattan city lights filtering through the large sheer curtains.

He set her down gently on the edge of the large bed, standing between her knees as he looked down at her. His dark eyes were filled with an unbelievable warmth and a quiet, reverent intensity.

"I missed you so much," Michael whispered softly, his voice trembling slightly with emotion as he cupped her face in his warm hands. "Every single day, Y/N."

Y/N reached up, placing her hands over his, leaning into his touch. "I missed you too, Michael. So much."

He leaned down and kissed her again this time, not with the rushed franticness of before, but with a slow, sweet, aching tenderness that made her heart melt. He took his time, kissing her lips, her jawline, and the soft pulse point on her neck, making her gasp softly as his hands gently undid her coat and slipped it off her shoulders.

As they sank back onto the soft sheets together, the noise of the city, the doubts, and the shadows of that chaotic past night completely dissolved. There was no alcohol clouding her mind now, no crowd watching, and no other woman in the room. It was just the two of them quiet, intimate, and real finally giving in to the deep pull that had been drawing them together from the very beginning.

Michael paused, pulling back just a few inches to look down at her. His dark eyes caught the dim light, suddenly filled with a grounded, protective caution. He held her face gently between his hands, his breath hot against her cheek.

"Wait... Y/N, hold on a second," Michael whispered, his voice soft and serious as he caught his breath. "Are you... are you really sure about this? I don't want you to do this just because you've had a few drinks, or... or because you're caught up in the moment. I can't have you regretting this tomorrow and running away from me again."

He searched her eyes, his expression vulnerable and completely honest.

"I don't want to hurt you, and I don't want to lose you," he added quietly. "So please... tell me truth."

Y/N looked up into his soft, worried gaze, her hand coming up to rest over his on her cheek.

"I'm sure, Michael," she said, her voice steady and clear despite the alcohol. "I don't regret being here with you. The truth is... I need you. I need you right now. There hasn't been a single day or night since I left that I haven't been thinking about you. It's only been you in my head."

Michael froze. Her words hit him so hard he completely lost his breath. A stunned, dazed look washed over his face, his dark eyes wide in absolute disbelief. He stood there for a second, completely overwhelmed by the raw honesty in her voice.

"You... you really mean that...?" he breathed, a soft, dazed smile slowly breaking across his lips.

"Yes," Y/N whispered, pulling him back down to her.

All his lingering doubts vanished in an instant. Michael leaned back in, pressing his lips to hers with a renewed, deep intensity. He gathered her up in his arms and carried her down the hall to his bedroom, gently setting her down onto the soft bed. The darkness of the room wrapped around them as they gave in to each other, losing themselves in a quiet, passionate rhythm that wiped away every doubt and left only the two of them.

Michael slid his hands down to her waist, his touch warm and electric as he shifted his weight over her on the bed. His eyes stayed locked on hers in the dim, golden light of the bedroom, his breathing already deep and uneven.

"You have no idea what you do to me, Y/N," he whispered, his voice dropping to a low, velvety rasp that sent shivers straight down her spine. "I've been going out of my mind thinking about this... thinking about you."

He slowly trailed his lips down her neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone while his long fingers worked carefully to remove her clothes. Every touch was deliberate, measured, yet pulsing with an intense heat.

"Look at you..." Michael breathed, pulling back just enough to admire her in the soft light. A quiet, breathless sigh escaped his lips. "You're so gorgeous... absolute perfection."

Y/N reached up, her fingers tangling into his curls, pulling him closer as she arched her back into his touch. "Michael, please..."

"Ssh, I'm right here," he murmured, his voice dipping lower, right beside her ear as he positioned himself over her. "Tell me you want me... I need to hear you say it."

"I want you, Michael... so much," she gasped softly.

"Gosh..." he whimpered, a low, breathy sound catching in his throat as he slowly pushed inside her. He paused, closing his eyes for a brief second as he let out a shuddering breath, completely overwhelmed by the sensation. "You feel so good... so tight and warm around me..."

He began to move, setting a slow, deep, sensual rhythm that filled the quiet room. His long, slender body moved with a natural, fluid grace, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. Michael kept his gaze fixed on her face, watching every expression, hanging onto every soft whimpering gasp she let out.

"That's it, girl... let it out," Michael whispered, his voice thick with desire as his hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her rhythm to match his. "Don't hold back for me... tell me how it feels."

"It feels... amazing, Michael... oh God," Y/N moaned, her head tossing back against the pillows.

"You like that, don't you mama?” he rasped softly, his chest breathing heavily against hers as he sped up his pace, driving deeper into her with a fierce, possessive passion. "You're mine tonight, Y/N... just mine. No one else."

The tempo shifted from gentle to intense, his breathing coming in ragged, breathy gasps as he lost himself in her. His lips found hers again, kissing her deeply, drowning out her soft cries as they moved together toward the edge.

"I'm close, Y/N... stay with me," Michael gasped into her mouth, his body trembling with the effort as he held her tight against his chest, driving them both over the edge into a breathtaking, shattering release.

After the intensity of the night settled into a calm silence, they lay tangled in the soft sheets, the distant glow of the Manhattan skyline casting long, warm shadows across the room. Michael pulled her close against his chest, his fingers gently tracing soft patterns over her arm while they spoke in hushed, intimate whispers about everything that had finally brought them to this moment the misunderstandings, the hidden feelings, and the relief of leaving it all behind.

Exhaustion soon overtook Y/N, and she drifted off to sleep wrapped securely in his arms.

Quietly slipping out of bed so as not to wake her, Michael pulled on a robe and retreated to the living area. Fueled by the quiet peace of the night and the inspiration of having her there, he spent the remaining hours until dawn sitting with his notepad, tapping out rhythms and humming melodies under his breath.

At six in the morning, the weak morning light began to fill the apartment. Y/N blinked her eyes open to an empty bed. Walking quietly into the hallway, she saw Michael fast asleep on the couch, his notepad resting loosely on his chest.

Panic suddenly set in she had a full shift at the boutique starting soon. Trying not to disturb his rested face, she quickly gathered her things. Bill was already waiting quietly downstairs, as if expecting her, and drove her through the early morning fog back to her apartment so she could change for work.

Throughout her entire shift at the shop, Y/N moved like a ghost, completely consumed by her thoughts. Her mind kept replaying every touch, every word, and the overwhelming shift in their relationship. She kept staring at the phone on the boutique's counter, her heart hammering every time she thought about dialing his number. She was in a quiet state of shock, unable to bring herself to call—torn between the bliss of what had happened and the overwhelming question hanging over her head: What comes next?

A week and a half slipped by in a blur. Michael was swallowed whole by his grueling schedule—long hours in the recording studio, dense rehearsals, and relentless press interviews for The Wiz. Despite the madness, they found a sweet routine in their late-night phone calls, grounding themselves in each other's voices.

Until one evening, when the phone just rang out.

Y/N sat by her phone, waiting for their usual call time, but the line stayed dead silent. Hours passed. Having not seen him in person since that morning in his apartment, a sudden wave of boldness took over. She decided to surprise him.

When she arrived at his Manhattan residential building, she found Bill standing near the entrance taking a quiet smoke break. Recognizing her immediately, Bill gave her a knowing smile and let her up without a second thought.

Y/N rode the private elevator up, her heart doing nervous cartwheels in her chest. The doors slid open silently into the penthouse. Soft jazz was humming from the speakers. She took a breath and walked through the spacious open-concept kitchen toward the main living area.

Then she froze.

Sitting on the plush velvet couch was Diana Ross.

She was leaning in remarkably close practically sitting in Michael's lap her arm resting over the back of the sofa near his shoulders as they laughed over a stack of sheet music.

The air instantly left Y/N's lungs. She knew who Diana was, of course, and was fully aware of the legendary, deep bond she shared with Michael. But seeing it right in front of her was entirely different.

The sound of Y/N's heels on the hardwood floor made them both turn.

Michael’s eyes went wide with sheer shock, his jaw dropping slightly as he sat up straight. Beside him, Diana paused mid-sentence, her dark eyes flashing with surprise as she looked over at the unfamiliar woman standing unannounced in the apartment.

The silence in the room was deafening. The sweet, comfortable laughter that had filled the penthouse just a second ago evaporated, leaving a heavy, suffocating tension in its place.

Diana shifted slightly, her keen eyes sweeping over Y/N from head to toe, taking in her flustered expression and the way her knuckles turned white against her purse. A subtle, sharp curiosity flickered across Diana's face.

Michael scrambled to his feet, almost dropping the sheet music in his lap. "Y—Y/N...!" he stammered, his voice higher than usual, completely caught off guard. He looked between Diana and Y/N, his dark eyes wide with a mix of panic and confusion. "I... God, I didn't expect you... What are you doing here?"

Y/N felt a cold wave crash over her. Seeing Diana so close to him the iconic, effortlessly stunning woman Michael had idolized and loved for years made Y/N feel completely out of place.

"I... I called," Y/N stammered, her voice small and trembling as she backed toward the kitchen counter. "You didn't answer... I just wanted to surprise you, but I... I shouldn't have come."

Diana slowly stood up, her presence commanding yet unreadable. She looked at Michael with a raised eyebrow, a faint, knowing smirk playing on her lips. "Michael, darling... aren't you going to introduce me to your guest?"

Michael cleared his throat nervously, stepping between the two women, looking completely overwhelmed. "Um, yes Diana, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is..."

"I know who she is," Y/N interrupted softly, her face burning with heat. The intimacy of the night they had shared a week ago felt miles away now, swallowed up by the reality of his world. "I'm sorry for intruding. I'll just go."

"No, Y/N, wait—please don't go!" Michael blurted out, stepping forward with his hands slightly raised. He was still visibly in shock, his mind racing to bridge the sudden collision of his two completely different worlds.

"Michael's right, there's no need to run off," Diana chimed in smoothly, though her sharp, dark eyes narrowed just a fraction. She leaned back against the arm of the sofa, coolly taking in the entire scene. "We were just reviewing some production notes for The Wiz."

Y/N stood frozen by the kitchen island, a bitter knot twisting in her stomach. She felt a deep, humiliating sting of betrayal. He hadn't called her all day. He missed their usual time, and even though she knew how insane his schedule was, she had let her heart win. She had wanted to surprise him, to see the man she hadn't touched in over a week.

Instead, she had walked right into a scene that made her feel like an utter fool. They weren't even in an official relationship they had no labels, no promises. But after the incredible, intense night they had shared, seeing Diana practically draped over him on his couch felt like a slap in the face.

Was this just normal for him? Y/N thought, her heart sinking into her shoes. What else goes on here when I'm not around?

What made her stomach churn even more was the way Diana was looking around the penthouse. Her eyes lingered on the quiet corners of the room, the private space, as if she held a deep, personal familiarity with the apartment a space Y/N had thought was a safe haven meant just for the two of them.

"I really think I should leave, Michael," Y/N whispered, her voice tightening as she fought back the burn of embarrassing tears. She looked straight at him, her gaze filled with hurt. "You're clearly busy."

To make matters worse, Y/N glanced up at the vintage clock on the wall. The hands pointed straight past one in the morning.

One o'clock at night.

A sudden, bitter wave of humiliation washed over her. Work calls and production notes were one thing, but sitting wrapped up together on a sofa in a dimly lit penthouse in the dead of night was something else entirely.

Michael took a hurried step toward her, his face pale with panic. "Y/N, please... We just lost track of time, I was going to call you—"

Y/N didn't let him finish. A short, quiet, hollow laugh escaped her lips—a dry sigh of pure disbelief.

She just shook her head slowly, looking at him one last time with disappointed eyes. Without saying another word, she turned on her heel and walked out of the apartment.

A few weeks drifted by, creating an unspoken distance between them.

Michael tried calling her repeatedly. Y/N picked up, but their phone calls became brief, polite, and distant. To make matters more complicated, Y/N had recently stepped into a higher position at her job. Her days were longer, her responsibilities heavier, and the sheer exhaustion meant she needed her sleep. Their schedules were completely out of sync while Michael thrived in the late-night hours, Y/N was falling asleep by the time his day was winding down.

One evening, Michael called and gently suggested coming over to her place.

"I really miss you," he murmured softly through the receiver. "Can I please just come by? Even for a little bit?"

"No, Michael," Y/N replied, her tone firm yet tired. "I can't tonight. I have to be up extremely early tomorrow for a big meeting."

There was a brief, heavy silence on the line. Michael quietly brushed it off, trying to sound unbothered. "Oh... okay. Yeah, sure. No problem mama."

In reality, he felt a sharp sting of rejection. He could feel her pulling away, and he knew deep down this wasn't just about her new job. She was still deeply hurt and distant ever since the night she walked in on him and Diana.

Whenever the topic lightly brushed their conversations, Michael kept insisting it was harmless. "We're just close, Y/N. I've known Diana since I was a kid... she's like family to me," he would explain, trying to reassure her.

But Y/N wasn't blind. She knew the tabloids and the media were constantly filled with rumors about Michael and Diana speculating about a secret romance, a deeper obsession, and a bond that went far beyond mere friendship. Knowing what the whole world suspected about them, seeing Diana practically in his lap at one in the morning made it almost impossible for Y/N to believe his innocent explanations.

The next morning at work, a strange, heavy knot sat in the pit of Y/N’s stomach. She couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this entire situation with Michael was becoming far too complicated. Between his celebrity world, the late-night visits from Diana, and the endless tabloid rumors, every instinct told her it was time to cut her losses and guard her heart before she got in too deep.

She opened the boutique early, stepping into the quiet, empty store. The morning dragged on at a slow pace until a sleek black car pulled up directly in front of the shop's glass display windows.

Y/N froze as the driver's door opened and Bill stepped out. He moved swiftly to open the rear passenger door, and out stepped Michael.

He was wearing a slight disguise a tipped-down fedora and large sunglasses but his unmistakable frame and posture instantly gave him away. He marched straight into the shop, the small bell above the door chiming as he entered. Outside, Bill closed the car door and slid back into the driver's seat, keeping watch.

Y/N stood behind the counter in absolute shock, her heart dropping straight into her shoes. "Michael...? What are you doing here?"

Michael ignored her question entirely, his face tense as he looked around the empty room. "Where are the keys?" he asked sharply.

Y/N blinked, completely bewildered. "What? Why do you need my keys?"

"Where are the keys, Y/N?" he repeated, his tone firm, leaving no room for argument.

Fustrated and thoroughly confused, Y/N reached under the counter, grabbed the brass keyring, and set it down. Without missing a beat, Michael took the keys, stepped over to the front entrance, locked the heavy glass door from the inside, and flipped the sign to 'Closed.'

He turned around and walked past the main floor straight toward the back of the boutique where a small, private lounge area was set up with a plush sofa and coffee table for break times.

Without looking back, Michael gestured for her to follow, his voice quiet yet commanding. "Come back here."

He disappeared into the back lounge, expecting her to follow him right behind.

Y/N walked into the back room, her boots clicking softly against the floor. Every instinct told her to stand her ground, but the sheer intensity radiating off Michael pulled her forward like a magnet.

"Sit down," he said, pointing toward the velvet sofa. His fedora was pulled low, but his dark eyes burned right through her.

Y/N stood completely frozen for a second, her hands trembling. "Michael, what is this? You can't just lock up my store, what's going on—"

"sit down," Michael cut in, his voice cracking slightly under a heavy mix of frustration and exhaustion.

Confused, defensive, and with her heart hammering against her ribs, Y/N slowly lowered herself onto the sofa. Michael didn't sit. He stood in front of the small coffee table, running a slender hand over his face before turning to face her directly, his posture rigid.

"Listen to me," he began, his voice dropping into a tight, urgent whisper as he pointed a finger toward her. "I can't... I just cannot take this silence anymore, Y/N. I can't do it."

Y/N opened her mouth to speak, but Michael held up his hand, shaking his head.

"No, let me talk," he pressed, taking a step closer until he was standing right over her. "The first time, after that night at the club... you ran away from me. I gave you your space. I waited. and because of a huge misunderstanding, you turn on your heel and you walk out on me again!"

He let out a sharp, breathy exhale, throwing his hands up in sheer disbelief before dropping them to his sides.

"Now every time I call you, you're distant. I ask to come see you, you give me excuses. You won't talk to me, you won't let me explain, you don't want me around... I feel like I'm losing my mind here, Y/N! You keep pulling me in and then running away the second things get difficult!"

"I didn't do anything wrong with Diana," he whispered, his eyes wide and pleading. "I swear to you on my life. She's my friend, that's all. But I don't care about any of that right now I care about us. I'm tired of the games, Y/N. I came here today because I'm not leaving this room until you tell me what we're doing. Do you want me, or are you just going to keep running?"

Y/N sat on the edge of the velvet sofa, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she stared at him. She expected him to calm down, but the air in the small break room only grew heavier, thick with an overwhelming, restless energy.

Michael didn't soften. He didn't drop to his knees or lean in. Instead, he stood straight, his shoes tapping sharply against the floor. He pulled off his fedora and threw it onto the coffee table, running a hand through his dark curls, his breathing ragged.

"The first time... you just ran," Michael continued, his voice tight, sharp, and laced with pure frustration. He stopped right in front of her, looming over the couch with his hands on his hips. "I gave you time. I tried to be patient. Then you show up at my apartment , you see something you don't like, you don't ask a single question, and you just walk away again!"

"Michael, it was late—"

"I don't care!" he snapped, cutting her off instantly, his dark eyes flashing with an intensity she had never seen before. "You didn't give me a chance to say a single word! And ever since then, it's the same thing. Cold answers on the phone. Excuses every time I try to see you. 'I'm busy, I'm tired, I have work.' You're completely shutting me out!"

He took a step closer, towering over her, his long fingers gesturing wildly in the air as his anger flared.

"I locked that door because I am done with you walking away from me the second things get complicated," Michael said, his voice dropping to a harsh, breathless whisper that echoed in the tiny lounge. "I am tired of guessing where I stand with you. You're playing with my head, Y/N, and I'm not going anywhere until you look me in the eye and tell me what the hell you actually want from me!"

Y/N’s jaw tightened, the sheer frustration radiating off Michael finally snapping something inside her. The defensive wall she had built up over the past few weeks completely crumbled, replaced by a sudden, fiery surge of anger.

She stood up off the sofa, stepping right into his space so she wasn't looking up at him anymore.

"I guess you don't know where I stand, Michael!" she snapped, her voice trembling with a sharp, lethal edge. "You want to talk about running away? You want to talk about playing games? Let's talk about it then!"

Michael blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but his expression remained hard and defensive.

"If you had just talked to me normally in that club from the very beginning instead of playing cool, none of that chaotic mess with that other girl would have ever happened!" Y/N yelled, pointing a finger directly at his chest. "I wouldn't have walked away in the first place if you hadn't left me standing there feeling like a complete afterthought!"

Michael opened his mouth to argue, but she didn't give him a single second to speak.

"And then you sit here and complain that I surprised you?" she continued, her breathing heavy as months of built-up hurt finally poured out. "If you had just answered your damn phone—or even better, sent a simple message saying, 'Hey, I have company over tonight, I can't talk'—I wouldn't have been worried about you! I wouldn't have wasted my time going all the way to your penthouse just to walk in on that!"

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing with raw emotion.

"You blame me for stepping back, but you leave me in the dark every single time! You act like I'm the one ruining things, when all I've been doing is reacting to the absolute chaos you create around you!"

Michael stared down at her, his chest heaving, his dark eyes wide and wild with the heat of her words. For a second, the raw energy hanging between them felt so sharp it could snap. But as Y/N stood her ground, her cheeks flushed and her lips parted from her ragged breathing, something shifted in the air—instant, heavy, and undeniably dangerous.

The anger in his eyes didn't vanish; it transformed into pure, consuming heat.

Before she could spit out another word, Michael closed the small distance between them in a single, fluid motion. His hand shot out, his long fingers wrapping around her waist with a sudden, firm grip that pulled her flush against his body. Her breath hitched sharply as her chest slammed into his.

His other hand swept up to grip the back of her neck, his thumb resting heavily against her pulsing jawline. The sharp, frustrated tension in his frame instantly bled into a fierce, possessive grip that pinned her right where he wanted her.

"I'm going crazy without you, girl," Michael whispered, his dark gaze dropping down to her mouth as his hot breath fanned over her skin. "I can't sleep, I can't write, I can't think... all I do is think about you."

He tightened his hold on her waist, tilting her head back just enough to force her to look into his eyes. The anger was gone, replaced by a deep, aching yearning that made her heart hammer wildly against her ribs. The entire room grew suffocatingly small, the air thick with an electric charge that made every place their bodies touched burn.

"Say it again," Michael murmured, his lips brushing against hers with every word, teasing her, maddening her. "Tell me to leave, Y/N. Look me in the eye and tell me you don't want this."

Y/N’s anger completely melted under his intense gaze, her posture softening as she leaned into his firm grip. She looked up at him, her voice barely a whisper.

"I don't want you to go, Michael," she admitted quietly, her hands resting nervously against his chest. "I never wanted you to go. It’s just... it's so hard for me. There's no clarity between us. We don't have a label, we're not official, and sitting in the dark wondering where I stand with you... it's driving me insane."

Michael froze, his dark eyes softening instantly. A look of genuine realization washed over his face as he absorbed her words. He had been so focused on his own frustration that he hadn't realized the uncertainty was what was tearing her apart.

"Y/N... gosh, I didn't know," he murmured, his thumb gently smoothing over her cheek. "I thought you were just pushing me away. You're not just anyone to me..."

The emotional honesty hanging between them instantly snapped the remaining tension, shifting the room into an electric, unbearable heat. All the weeks of built-up frustration, longing, and miscommunication boiled over into pure, desperate desire.

Michael backed her up until her thighs hit the edge of the break room sofa. He pulled her down onto the soft cushions, his long body hovering over hers, his eyes dark with an intense, possessive heat.

"No more running," Michael rasped against her lips, his breath hitching as he tangled his hands into her hair, kissing her with a deep, passionate intensity that took her breath away.

They lost themselves completely in the heavy rhythm of the moment. Every touch was charged with the frustration of the past few weeks, their voices filling the quiet lounge in low, breathy gasps as all the unspoken words finally gave way to total surrender.

Afterward, as they lay together on the narrow sofa catching their breath in the dim light of the back room, Michael kept her wrapped tightly in his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder. The unspoken fear was gone, replaced by a deep, quiet understanding that neither of them was going anywhere.

The sharp, repetitive chime of the boutique's front counter phone shattered the quiet, warm silence of the back room, pulling them right back to reality.

Y/N sat up abruptly, her heart skipping a beat as she looked toward the doorway. "Oh God... the phone," she whispered, her voice still husky from the heat of the moment. "I have to get back to work."

Michael let out a low, breathless groan, his arm wrapping tightly around her waist for one last second to pull her back down against his chest. "Let it ring," he murmured against the soft skin of her shoulder, his voice thick and reluctant.

"I can't, Michael, the shop is locked and customers might be outside," Y/N said with a soft, breathy laugh, gently pulling away from his grip.

She quickly gathered her clothes scattered across the sofa and slipped back into them, smoothing down her hair in the small wall mirror. Michael sat up, watching her with dark, contented eyes before running a hand over his face and pulling his own clothes back on.

He picked his fedora up off the coffee table, adjusting it low over his eyes as he walked up behind her. Reaching out, he wrapped his long arms around her waist from behind, pulling her back flush against him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, pressing a series of slow, warm, lingering kisses right against her pulse point.

"I don't want to leave you," Michael whispered softly against her skin, his hands squeezing her waist tightly. "Call me the second you're done today. Promise me."

"I promise," Y/N murmured, turning her head to catch his lips in one last sweet, deep kiss that made her knees go weak all over again.

Satisfied, Michael unlocked the back door leading toward the side exit where Bill was patiently waiting by the idling car. He flashed her one final, brilliant, devastating smile, squeezed her hand, and slipped out into the alleyway, leaving the boutique quiet once more—except for the phone that was still ringing out front.

After locking up the boutique for the day, Y/N stepped out onto the quiet sidewalk and dialed Michael's private line. Her heart did a familiar nervous flutter as the phone rang twice before his breathy, cheerful voice came through the receiver.

"Hey," she said softly, leaning against the doorframe of the shop. "I just wrapped up everything at work. Are you—"

"I know," Michael interrupted with a soft, knowing chuckle on the other end of the line. "I've been counting down the hours all afternoon."

Y/N smiled, the lingering warmth from earlier instantly flushing her cheeks. "Oh, really?"

"Really," he murmured, his voice dipping into that sweet, intimate tone reserved just for her. "In fact, check the curb. Bill should be pulling up right about now."

As if on cue, the sleek black sedan smoothly glided to the curb in front of the boutique, the engine humming softly. Bill gave a brief, polite wave through the windshield.

"Michael... what is this?" Y/N asked, her curiosity piqued as she watched Bill step out to hold the back door open for her.

"Just get in," Michael said, his playful, brilliant smile practically audible through the phone. "I have a surprise waiting for you, and I am not letting you spend tonight anywhere near your apartment. Hurry up... I'm waiting."

Y/N slipped into the plush leather backseat of the car, offering a small, appreciative smile to Bill as he closed the door behind her. The interior smelled faintly of rich upholstery and Michael's signature cologne. As the car pulled away from the curb and glided into the Manhattan evening traffic, her mind raced with questions about where they were going.

Instead of driving toward his penthouse, Bill navigated the sedan up toward Midtown, eventually stopping in front of an discreet, grand residential entrance near Central Park. Bill stepped out, opening her door and offering a hand.

"He's waiting for you on the top floor, miss," Bill said with a warm, respectful nod, directing her toward a private lobby elevator.

Y/N stepped into the elevator, her stomach doing nervous cartwheels as the floor numbers ticked rapidly upward. When the doors finally slid open, she stepped out into an breathtaking, dimly lit loft space she had never seen before. Warm candlelight flickered everywhere, casting soft golden glows over tall floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering city skyline. Smooth, slow jazz was humming softly from hidden speakers.

Standing near a small, elegantly set dining table in the center of the room was Michael. He had swapped his casual clothes for a sharp, tailored black silk shirt, his curls soft around his face. He held a long-stemmed red rose in his hand, a timid, breathtakingly sweet smile spreading across his face the second his dark eyes landed on her.

"Welcome," he said softly, walking over to her with slow, deliberate steps. He slipped his free hand around her waist, drawing her close, and pressed a tender, lingering kiss to her lips. "I rented this place for the weekend. Just for us. No studio calls, no unexpected guests... no distractions."

He handed her the rose, his eyes locking onto hers with a deep, unwavering sincerity.

"I wanted to make up for everything," Michael whispered, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "From now on, you never have to wonder where you stand with me. You're the only one I want, Y/N."

Michael took her hand and led her further into the loft, revealing a massive private indoor cinema. Deep, comfortable velvet seats faced a sprawling screen, surrounded by a concession counter stacked high with all of Y/N's favorite snacks and a fresh pitcher of cold orange juice Michael’s personal favorite.

They spent hours curled up together in the dark, watching classic Disney films back to back. The atmosphere was light, sweet, and intimate. Between quiet laughs and shared popcorn, they talked deep into the night sharing childhood memories, fears, and quiet dreams they had never voiced to anyone else. It was the kind of deep, comfortable bonding they had both been starving for.

As the late hours slipped away, Y/N noticed the centerpiece of the loft’s open master suite: a grand, freestanding soaking tub surrounded by soft candlelight.

"I'm definitely getting in," Y/N smiled, turning to look at him.

Michael flushed slightly, a shy, timid grin tugging at his lips as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh... in the tub? Right now?"

He was far too hesitant and bashful to join her right away. Instead, Michael leaned against the doorframe wearing his soft silk pajamas, his hands tucked loosely into his pockets. He watched her with wide, quiet eyes—completely mesmerized as she drew the hot bath, pinned her hair up, and slowly sank into the steamy, scented water. His quiet shyness only added to the sweet, magnetic tension pulling between them.

“You know the water feels real good” Y/n whispered while looking at Michael hoping he would strip and get in

“Is that so? I would rathed like to know what else is warm”

When she finally finished, Y/N stepped out of the water, wrapping a soft white towel around her body and slowly drying off in the dim golden light.

Michael stood frozen, watching the water droplets glistening on her skin. He couldn't hold back any longer.

Before she could step away, Michael crossed the room in a few quick strides, his long arms reaching out to lift her effortlessly into his chest. Ignoring her soft, surprised gasp, he carried her straight to the massive king-sized bed, gently laying her down onto the soft sheets as he leaned over her, his dark eyes burning with pure, undivided devotion.

Y/N’s breath caught sharply in her throat as her back hit the plush, cool sheets of the king-sized bed. The sudden change in Michael left her utterly speechless. Just moments ago, he had been standing by the bathroom doorframe timid, blushing, and hiding behind his silk pajamas like a bashful boy. Now, looking up at him, the shyness was entirely gone, replaced by an intense, unwavering focus that sent a nervous shiver straight down her spine.

"Michael...?" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly as she instinctively clutched the damp towel closer to her chest. Her face flushed hot under his dark, dark gaze. “This was what you were waiting for?” She breathed

Michael let out a low, breathy hum, a faint, wicked smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he crawled onto the mattress, moving over her with slow, deliberate grace until he was hovering directly above her body. He reached down and gently, yet firmly, unclasped her fingers from the towel, pulling the soft fabric away and casting it to the floor.

"I was," Michael murmured softly, his long fingers gently trailing down the side of her neck, over her collarbone, and tracing the curve of her hip. His touch was warm, sending goosebumps rippling across her skin. "But watching you in that bath... I couldn't just stand there anymore."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as his voice dropped into a deep, raspy whisper that made her toes curl.

"What we did in the back room at the boutique this afternoon... it was rushed, mama," he rasped, his hot breath fanning over her damp skin. "We were stressed, angry, running out of time... But tonight? Tonight nobody is calling us. Nobody is waiting outside. I have all night to take my time with you, and I am going to finish what I started."

Y/N’s heart hammered violently against her ribs. She was completely wide-eyed, her cheeks burning with equal parts embarrassment and overwhelming desire. "Michael—"

"Shh..." he whispered against her mouth, cutting off her breath with a deep, slow kiss that tasted like sweet orange juice and pure devotion.

Before she could fully process his words, Michael shifted down her body. His hands were firm yet gentle as he gripped her thighs, parting her legs and sliding down between them. Y/N gasped, her hands immediately flying to tangle into the soft, messy curls at the top of his head as he looked up at her from between her knees. The raw, hungry intensity in his dark eyes made her breath hitch.

Without giving her a chance to gather her thoughts, Michael leaned in close. His warm, steady breath hit her most sensitive center, making her body jerk in surprise.

"Michael, please—" she choked out, her head falling back against the pillows.

"Look at me, baby," he commanded softly, his voice heavy with authority and deep affection. "I want you to see how much I missed you. How much I need this."

Then he buried his face between her thighs.

The first touch of his hot tongue against her damp, aching core made Y/N cry out softly, her hands gripping his hair tightly as a wave of pure pleasure rushed through her. Michael took his time, working with a maddeningly slow, precise rhythm. He used his tongue, his lips, and his warm breath to tease and worship her, drinking in every soft gasp, every ragged shudder that escaped her lips.

"You feel so good," Michael groaned against her skin, his voice muffled, low, and possessively deep. "So sweet... I've been thinking about this all day while I was sitting in the studio... starving for you."

He varied his pace, lapping at her with expert, deep strokes that built an agonizing pressure deep in her lower belly. Every time she tried to shift her hips, his hands tightened around her thighs, anchoring her firmly to the mattress.

"Stay still for me," he growled huskily, lifting his head for a fraction of a second, his lips slick and his eyes dark with desire. "Let me taste you. I want to give you everything you've been missing."

The combination of his filthy, raspy words and the relentless, intoxicating rhythm of his mouth drove Y/N over the edge. She whined his name, her body tightening, her hands desperately pulling at his hair as a shattering release washed over her. Michael drank in every drop of her pleasure, his tongue working through her rhythm until her trembling hips finally settled.

Breathless, panting, and completely undone, Y/N looked down through her heavy eyelashes to see Michael rising over her body again. He was breathing heavily, his silk pajama shirt unbuttoned, his chest slick with a light sheen of sweat. The heat radiating off him was stifling.

"Michael... please," she whimpered, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, unable to bear the physical distance between them for another second. "I need you inside me. Right now."

"Tell me who you belong to," Michael rasped, his dark eyes locking onto hers as he positioned himself at her entrance, his body trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

"You," Y/N whispered without hesitation, her fingers digging into his broad shoulders. "Only you, Michael."

A low, primal growl escaped his chest. Michael pushed forward in one slow, seamless stroke, filling her completely. Both of them let out a loud, unified gasp at the intense feeling of being connected again. The relief was overwhelming weeks of bitter misunderstandings, unspoken fears, and painful distance melting away into pure physical union.

He began to move, establishing a heavy, deep rhythm that echoed through the quiet bedroom. Michael didn't hold back his voice, leaning down to pepper hot, feverish kisses over her jawline, her neck, and her shoulder as he drove into her.

"God, Y/N... you fit me so perfectly," he groaned, his voice thick with unadulterated passion. "I'm never letting you go again... do you hear me? Never."

"Don't stop, Michael... please, don't stop," Y/N pleaded, arching her back to meet every single deep stroke, her nails scratching lightly against his back.

The bedroom became a haze of intense heat, hushed confessions, and dirty, breathless whispers. They moved together in perfect harmony, completely consumed by an intense yearning that went far deeper than just physical touch. Every thrust was a declaration, every gasped word a vow that erased all the doubt that had stood between them.

Michael picked up the pace, his grip on her waist tightening as his breathing grew harsh and ragged. "Look at me, baby... look at my eyes while I finish..."

Y/N opened her heavy eyes, staring directly into his dark, blown-out pupils just as the wave hit them both. She cried out his name as her walls tightened around him, and Michael let out a deep, throaty groan, burying his face in the crook of her neck as he gave into his own powerful climax, spilling his warmth deep inside her.

For a long time afterward, neither of them moved.

Michael collapsed heavily onto the bed beside her, pulling her limp, sweaty body flush against his chest. He pulled the thick down comforter over them both, wrapping his arms around her waist so tightly that there wasn't a single inch of space between them.

Y/N rested her head right over his heart, listening to the rapid, comforting beat as it slowly began to steady. Michael kept his face buried in her damp hair, his fingers idly tracing soft, soothing circles over her lower back, occasionally pressing sweet, soft kisses to her forehead.

"I love you," Michael whispered into the dark room, his voice barely audible, thick with emotional exhaustion and absolute contentment.

Y/N smiled softly, her eyes fluttering shut as a deep, peaceful exhaustion finally took over her body. "I love you too, Michael."

Tangled together in the soft sheets, surrounded by the quiet hum of the Manhattan skyline outside, they both drifted off into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

A few days slipped by in a peaceful, quiet bliss, but reality quickly caught up with them both. Y/N’s promotion meant longer, demanding hours at the boutique, while Michael was entirely consumed by the endless machine of his career rehearsals and press interviews for The Wiz, alongside grueling late-night studio sessions for his upcoming album.

Then came Diana’s birthday.

Unknown to Y/N, Diana decided to throw a massive, star-studded birthday celebration at Studio 54—the exact venue where the spark between Michael and Y/N had first ignited.

The following morning, Y/N walked to her usual coffee shop before her shift, her mind softly floating back to the sweet moments she and Michael had shared at the loft. But as she stood in line, her eyes caught the newspaper stand.

Her heart instantly stopped.

Printed across the front page was a massive, crystal-clear photo from the night before. It was Michael and Diana at Studio 54. Michael was leaning in, pressing an intimate, lingering kiss against Diana’s cheek, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist as she laughed, radiating in the flashing strobe lights. Bold, glaring letters stretched across the cover:

"MENTOR OR LOVER? MICHAEL JACKSON CELEBRATES DIANA ROSS'S BIRTHDAY AT STUDIO 54"

Y/N froze, the color completely draining from her face. She felt like she had been hit by a freight train. She paid for her coffee with trembling hands, completely unable to process the image burned into her mind.

She practically stumbled into the boutique, stepping through the front door like a ghost.

Her assistant, noticing her pale face and wide, vacant eyes, immediately stepped forward with concern. "Y/N? Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay? What happened?"

Y/N opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Her throat was tight, choked by a painful, suffocating lump. Unable to speak a single word, she brushed past her assistant and walked straight to the back of the store.

She hurried into the lounge area, pushed past the break room sofa, and ducked into the small private bathroom. She slammed the door shut, turned the lock, and leaned her back against the cool wood.

Sinking slowly to the floor, Y/N covered her mouth with both hands to muffle the sound and finally broke down, quietly sobbing into the empty room.

Later that evening, after wrapping up a grueling shift at the boutique, Y/N went straight home. Her phone buzzed relentlessly in her coat pocket endless calls and frantic text messages from Michael. She didn't answer a single one.

By the time the next morning rolled around, Y/N had made up her mind as she walked to work: she was completely done. No matter how deeply she felt for him, the constant emotional roller coaster was destroying her peace. Michael hadn't mentioned a single word about going to Studio 54 the place that was supposed to be their spot and now he was plastered across every tabloid kissing Diana, the same woman he spent long, intimate hours with every single day on the set of The Wiz. It was simply too much to bear. She felt emotionally drained and saw no point in continuing something that brought her more heart-break than security. Ghosting him might not have been the mature way out, but right now, she just didn't have the strength to give him a grand final talk.

When she arrived at the shop that morning, a familiar black sedan was parked right out front.

Bill was standing beside the driver's side door. As soon as he saw her approaching, he stepped forward, his face etched with genuine concern. "Y/N, do you have a few minutes to talk?"

Y/N swallowed hard, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "Yeah, sure, Bill."

She walked over to him, stepping away from the main sidewalk. Bill looked at her softly, lowering his voice. "Michael asked me to come find you. He's at the studio in the middle of shooting right now, but he's completely out of his mind, Y/N. He can't focus, he can't get through his takes... he's losing his temper with everyone on set."

Y/N kept her expression hardened, though her heart twinged slightly.

"He asked me why you're ignoring his calls again," Bill continued, leaning slightly against the car hood. "He feels like you're pulling the exact same thing and pushing him away all over again. He desperately wants to talk to you the second he wraps filming today."

Y/N stood her ground, her jaw set firm as she looked Bill dead in the eye. She didn't bother diving into the details or bringing up the painful headline she wasn't going to drag Bill into the middle of their messy drama.

"Bill, I respect you, but Michael knows exactly what he did," she said, her voice deadly calm, though her heart was pounding against her ribs. "He messed up again. Except this time, it was the absolute last straw."

Bill sighed, his face heavy with sympathy, but Y/N held up a hand before he could try to defend him.

"I don't want to hear excuses, and I don't want to explain myself anymore," she continued, her words sharp and unyielding. "You can tell Michael directly that I am done. Completely done. I don't want him calling me, I don't want him sending you, and I want him to stay away from my shop and my life."

Bill stared at her for a long moment, seeing the absolute finality in her eyes. He gave a somber, silent nod, knowing there was nothing more he could say to change her mind.

"I'll deliver the message," Bill said quietly, stepping back toward the driver's seat.

Without waiting to see him drive off, Y/N turned on her heel and walked straight into the boutique, locking the door firmly behind her.

Later that evening after work, Y/N went straight home. She tried to distract herself by turning on a TV show, settling into the sofa to unwind. A little while later, her best friend came over someone she hadn't seen in a while and Y/N finally opened up, telling her everything that had happened. Her friend listened intently, shook her head, and offered the exact advice Y/N needed to hear: it was best to just forget about Michael, protect her own peace, and move on with her life.

Late into the night, after her friend had left, a loud, sudden knock echoed against her front door.

Y/N froze, wondering who on earth could be visiting at this hour. Walking over to the entryway, she peered through the peephole only to see Michael standing on the other side, looking visibly distressed.

"Michael, go away," she called out through the locked door. "I don't want to talk to you."

Michael refused to budge. He knocked again, harder this time. "Mama, open the door! Just give me a chance to talk to you!"

"No, Michael! I told Bill what I had to say. Leave me alone!"

"No, I don't accept that!" he insisted, his voice laced with raw desperation and frustration. "You can't just shut me out like this! Open the door, girl. Please, I just want to talk to you I need to know what the hell is going on!"

Y/N let out a long, heavy exhale, her forehead resting against the cool wood of the door for a brief moment. She knew he wasn't going to leave Michael could be as stubborn as he was gentle. Reluctantly, she slid the chain off and unlocked the door, pulling it open just enough to stand in the frame.

Michael looked like a mess. his dark eyes wide and bloodshot, and his breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps. The moment the door swung open, he took an instinctive step forward, as if to pull her into his arms, but the cold, distant expression on her face made him freeze in his tracks.

"You have five minutes, Michael," Y/N said, her voice flat, devoid of the warmth he was used to. She didn't step aside to let him fully in, keeping her body blocking the doorway. "Say what you have to say."

Michael looked at her, completely bewildered, his chest heaving under his jacket. "Five minutes? Y/N, what are you talking about? Bill came back to the set and told me you were completely done with me. He said you told him to tell me to stay away from you. What happened? Everything was fine at the loft! We were fine!"

"We were fine until reality hit, Michael," she replied, a bitter edge slipping into her tone as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Or did you forget what happened right after that sweet weekend?"

"What are you talking about?" Michael asked, running a trembling hand through his curls, his voice rising in sheer frustration. "I've been working eighteen hours a day on set and in the studio! I haven't done anything!"

"Oh, really?" Y/N let out a dry, humorless laugh. "So you didn't go to Studio 54? You didn't go celebrate Diana's birthday at the exact same club where you and I started, without even bothering to tell me?"

Michael blinked, caught entirely off guard. "Studio 54? Y/N, that was a surprise party organized by her team! I was invited last minute, I only stayed for—"

"I don't care how long you stayed, Michael!" Y/N interrupted, her composure finally breaking as the pain surged back to the surface. "I walked into work yesterday morning, bought my coffee, and saw you plastered on the front page of the newspaper! You, kissing Diana, with a giant headline asking if you're her mentor or her lover! You spend all day with her on set, and then you go out partying with her at our spot, and I have to find out through a tabloid while standing in line at a coffee shop!"

Michael stood frozen, the realization washing over his face like a bucket of ice water. His mouth parted, his eyes softening instantly as the anger drained right out of him, replaced by pure, overwhelming panic.

"Y/N... no," he whispered, stepping closer despite her guarded posture. "No, no, no, baby, listen to me. That picture the press spins everything! It was just a cheek kiss, a congratulations! Diana is like family to me, you know that!"

"It doesn't matter what she is to you, Michael!" Y/N cried out, tears welling up in her eyes despite her best efforts to hold them back. "It's the fact that I am constantly in the dark! I'm tired of feeling like a secret, tired of wondering where I fit into your glamorous world, and tired of seeing you with other women on the news while I'm waiting by the phone! It hurts too much, and I can't do this anymore."

Michael reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around her wrists. When she tried to pull away, he held on not roughly, but with a desperate, trembling grip that refused to let her retreat into herself again.

"Look at me," Michael begged, his voice dropping into a thick, breathless murmur as he pulled her closer, closing the distance between them until her chest pressed against his. "Please, Y/N, look at me."

She looked up, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, meeting his dark, aching gaze.

"I was wrong," Michael whispered, his forehead coming down to rest gently against hers, his warm breath fanning across her lips. "I should have called you. I should have told you I was going. I was so caught up in the madness of work that I didn't think... but I swear to you, on my life, there is no one else. Diana is my mentor, but you... you're the only one I love."

He slid his hands up from her wrists to frame her face, his thumbs gently wiping away a tear that had escaped down her cheek.

"Don't throw us away over a stupid newspaper headline," he rasped, his lips brushing against hers as he spoke, teasingly close, his touch sending an undeniable jolt of heat through her anger. "Tell me you don't feel this. Tell me to walk out that door right now and mean it, and I'll go. But if you want me... let me fix this."

Y/N pulled her face back from his touch, violently shaking her head as the hot tears finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. The warm, familiar heat of his hands couldn't melt the deep, suffocating betrayal sitting heavy in her chest.

"No, Michael! Stop it!" she sobbed, her voice breaking completely as she pushed hard against his chest to create space between them. "I don't want to hear it! Just go away! Please, just leave!"

Michael stumbled back a step, looking completely crushed as he watched her crumble right in front of him.

"We promised each other no more sneaky things, Michael!" Y/N cried out, wiping her wet face with the back of her sleeve, her shoulders shaking violently. "After everything that happened, I stopped going to Studio 54 altogether! I left that whole scene behind because of us because of that girl from the club who kept showing up, because I wanted to build something real with you! I thought we put all that behind us! I thought Studio 54 was our place!"

She took a ragged breath, her chest heaving as she glared at him through a blur of tears.

"You couldn't even tell me you were going there!" she yelled, her voice echoing down the hallway. "Even if going with Diana meant nothing to you, it meant something to me! You knew how sensitive I was about that place and about her! A simple phone call was all it took to respect my feelings, but you didn't even care enough to think about me!"

Michael stood there, looking utterly helpless, his hands trembling at his sides. He took a small, cautious step forward, his voice cracking with a raw, desperate vulnerability.

"Mama... I've never been in a real, long-term relationship before," he explained quickly, his dark eyes wide and pleading. "I don't know how to do this properly, so I genuinely didn't realize how much it would hurt you."

His short, two-sentence excuse only poured gasoline on the fire. Hearing him try to justify his lack of respect with his inexperience sent Y/N over the absolute edge.

"GET OUT!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, her hands clenched into tight fists as she sobbed hysterically. "JUST GET OUT OF MY APARTMENT!"

"Y/N, please—" Michael begged, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper.

"GET OUT! LEAVE ME ALONE!" she shrieked, her voice echoing off the walls, completely consumed by raw pain and anger.

Michael flinched as if he had been physically struck. Seeing the absolute agony and rage in her eyes, he realized that staying any longer would only tear her apart further. With his heart in his throat and his head hanging low, he took a slow step backward out of the doorway.

Y/N slammed the heavy door shut, threw the deadbolt, and collapsed onto the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest as she sobbed uncontrollably into the quiet apartment. On the other side of the door, the sound of Michael's slow, lingering footsteps faded down the hallway until he was completely gone.

In the days following that explosive night, Michael respected her boundaries. He didn't show up unannounced at her apartment, nor did he linger outside the boutique to corner her. Instead, he initiated a quiet, persistent, and overwhelming campaign to prove just how desperately he wanted her back.

The Daily Declarations

It began the very next morning at 9:00 AM sharp. A local florist walked into the boutique carrying a massive bouquet of two dozen long-stemmed red roses. Tucked inside was a simple, hand-written card:

I’m so sorry. Please call me . — Michael

Every single morning after that, like clockwork, a new delivery arrived.

Day 2: A vintage, first-edition Disney storybook—a subtle call back to their quiet night in the cinema room.

Day 3: A massive box of handmade chocolates from a small bakery she had casually mentioned loving weeks ago.

Day 4: A bespoke, tailored silk scarf, accompanied by a note reading: I don't want to crowd you, but I can't let you forget me.

The boutique slowly transformed into a sweet-smelling greenhouse. Y/N tried her absolute best to stay cold and detached, but every delivery hit her right in the chest. He wasn't grandstanding for the public; he was sending quiet, meaningful reminders of every conversation they had ever shared.

The Letter

On the second week, Bill stepped into the boutique. He didn't push or offer excuses; he simply handed her a small velvet box and a thick, cream-colored envelope before softly walking back out.

Inside the box lay a delicate gold bracelet. Inside the envelope was a handwritten letter in Michael’s distinct, looping penmanship:

Y/n

I know I hurt you. I know my ignorance and my chaotic world caused you pain, and I hate myself for making you feel that way. I am not going to ambush you at your home or force my way into your space again. I want to respect your boundaries.

I’m asking for one real chance to talk. No press, no studio distractions, no sneaky things. Just us in my penthouse.

Bill will be parked outside your boutique tomorrow right after you wrap up work at 7:30 PM. Bring an overnight bag with your things—I want you to stay, but only if you feel comfortable. If you don't get in the car, I will understand, and I will step back. But if there is even a small part of you that still believes in us... please come.

Always yours,

Michael

Y/N stared at the paper for a long time, tracing the ink with her thumb. The anger that had consumed her for two solid weeks was slowly giving way to a deep, heavy ache. He was placing the entire decision squarely in her hands, giving her complete control without pushing.

The next evening, as 7:30 PM approached, Y/N stood in the back room of the shop looking at the small leather weekend bag she had packed with her toiletries and a change of clothes. Her heart pounded nervously against her ribs as she zipped it shut.

Stepping outside and locking up the boutique, she saw the sleek black sedan idling quietly at the curb. Bill immediately stepped out, opening the back door with a soft, reassuring smile.

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath, gripped her bag tightly, and climbed into the backseat.

The drive to his penthouse was completely silent. When they finally arrived, Bill escorted her up the private elevator. The doors slid open directly into Michael’s quiet, dimly lit apartment.

Michael was sitting on the edge of the large sofa, his head resting in his hands. The moment he heard the elevator chime, he practically jolted up. He looked tired, his dark eyes wide and vulnerable as they locked onto her. He took a hesitant, cautious step forward, stopping a respectful distance away, his voice barely a breath.

"You came..."

Michael stood motionless, taking in the sight of her standing in his living room with her small bag. His eyes glistened with an intense mixture of relief and overwhelming emotion.

"Y/N... thank you for coming," Michael said softly, his voice trembling as he gestured toward the couch. "Please, sit down. I just want to talk... I want to tell you everything."

Y/N set her overnight bag down by the door, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't sit down immediately; instead, she crossed her arms, looking at him with a tender yet conflicted expression.

Michael took a step closer, his dark eyes searching hers with absolute sincerity. "I brought you here because I need you to know where my heart is. I don't want games, Y/N. I don't want misunderstandings or secret nights that end in doubts. I want a real, serious future with you. My life is chaotic, noisy, and full of people who constantly want something from me... but with you, I feel grounded. You're the only person who sees me, not the star. I want you by my side, fully and completely. I want to build a real relationship with you, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to protect us."

Hearing the depth of his words, the last of Y/N’s hardened defenses shattered. A soft sigh escaped her lips, and she shook her head with a bittersweet, affectionate smile.

"I don't even know why I keep coming back to you," Y/N whispered, her voice laced with raw vulnerability. "Every time I tell myself I'm done, every time I try to walk away and protect my heart... I just can't stay away from you, Michael. It’s impossible."

Michael closed the remaining distance between them, his hands hesitating for a fraction of a second before gently framing her face. Y/N leaned into his warm touch, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

"I care about you so much," she admitted softly, looking straight into his eyes. "It frightens me how much I fall for you every single day. The headlines, the distance, the crazy world you live in—it scares me. But being without you hurts a thousand times worse."

Michael pulled her tight against his chest, burying his face into the crook of her neck as a deep, shuddering breath left his body. His arms wrapped around her waist like an anchor.

"You never have to be scared again," Michael murmured against her skin, his lips pressing a long, reverent kiss to her jaw. "I fall deeper for you every second, Y/N. You are the only woman I want, the only one who has my heart. We're going to do this right this time... together."

Y/N stepped back just enough to look up into his dark, soulful eyes, the weight of a painful truth settling heavily in her chest. As deeply as she loved him, and as sincere as his words felt, the raw ache inside her hadn't vanished. The emotional scars from the endless headlines, the secretive nature of his life, and past wounds she had carried long before meeting him were still wide open.

"Michael... as much as I want this to work, I can't," Y/N whispered, her voice cracking under the intense strain of her emotions. "With everything going on right now your insane world, the constant pressure, and everything I’m still carrying inside... I need to heal. I need time to fix myself before I can ever be good for anyone else."

Michael froze, his face draining of color as her words sank in. "Y/N, no... we can heal together. You don't have to do this alone."

"I do, Michael," she said, tears glistening in her eyes as she gently placed a hand over his heart. "If I stay right now, I'm just going to keep getting hurt, and I'm going to end up hurting you too. I love you, but I just can't be with you right now."

Michael felt as if the breath had been forcefully knocked out of his lungs. He was completely heartbroken, a sharp, visible agony washing over his features. He didn't truly understand why love couldn't just overcome the chaos in his mind, their bond was worth fighting through anything. But seeing the exhaustion and sincere pain in her eyes, he knew he had to respect her choice. He couldn't force her to stay.

"I don't want to let you go," Michael choked out, his voice dropping into a raspy, mournful whisper. "I don't understand it... but I accept it if this is what you need."

He cupped her cheek one last time, his thumb slowly tracing her cheekbone. But as his gaze dipped to her lips, the bitter reality of losing her ignited an agonizing spike of desire. The emotional vulnerability, mixed with weeks of unbearable yearning, turned the air between them heavy and suffocatingly thick. The physical pull they had over each other was an undeniable, magnetic force that neither could control.

Michael pulled her flushed body back flush against his, his dark eyes burning with a desperate, dark intensity.

"If this is really the end..." Michael rasped against her lips, his hands sliding down to grip her hips tightly, drawing her in so close there wasn't a breath of air between them. "If I have to let you go tomorrow... then let me have you tonight."

Michael didn't wait for an answer. The agony of knowing this was their final night shattered whatever restrains he had left. He scooped Y/N into his arms, carrying her through the dim loft straight into his master bedroom, setting her down gently onto the massive silk-sheeted bed.

He hovered over her, his breathing heavy, dark eyes locked onto hers with a fierce, possessive longing. He wanted to leave a mark on her mind, her body, and her heart so deep that no amount of time or distance could ever erase him.

"You think you can just walk away from me after tonight?" Michael whispered, his deep, husky voice vibrating against her ear as his hands skillfully unbuttoned her dress, sliding the fabric off her shoulders. "I'm going to give you something to remember, Y/N. Every single time you close your eyes, you're going to think of me."

His lips claimed hers in a slow, agonizingly deep kiss, tasting her tears and her desire all at once. He trailed hot, lingering kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, and down to her stomach, making her arch into his touch with a breathless gasp.

Without breaking eye contact, Michael slid down the mattress. He pushed her underwear down her legs, parting her thighs gently yet firmly. The heat radiating between her legs was intoxicating, and Michael leaned in, his warm breath hitting her most sensitive center.

"Look at me, girl," Michael commanded softly, his voice heavy with authority. "I want you to see who is making you feel like this."

He buried his face between her thighs, his warm tongue taking long, deliberate strokes against her aching core. Y/N cried out, her fingers instinctively plunging into his soft curls, pulling him closer as a wave of pure pleasure rushed through her veins. Michael took his sweet time, alternating between deep, heavy licks and sharp, teasing nips, using his mouth and fingers in a agonizingly slow rhythm that drove her to the absolute brink.

"Michael... oh god, please," she whimpered, her hips lifting off the bed.

"Not yet, baby," he growled huskily against her skin, his thumb working her sweet spot with precise pressure. "Listen to my voice. Focus on me. I want you completely helpless for me."

He talked her through every single sensation, his raspy dirty talk filling the quiet room—praising how wet she was for him, telling her how good she tasted, and reminding her over and over that she belonged to him tonight. The relentless pleasure proved too much; Y/N shattered in his hands, crying his name as a intense orgasm rocked her entire body. Michael drank in every drop of her release, kissing his way back up her trembling body until his lips were back on hers.

Before she could even catch her breath, Michael shed his clothes. The vulnerability was completely gone, replaced by a commanding, dominant energy. He aligned himself at her entrance, his dark eyes burning into hers.

"I'm going to make sure you never forget what you're leaving behind," he whispered harshly, and with one swift, deep thrust, he buried himself completely inside her.

Y/N gasped loudly, her hands gripping his broad shoulders as he established a heavy, relentless pace. He dominated her completely—taking total control of her body, driving into her with a raw, intense passion that echoed through the room. Every stroke was a claim, every ragged breath a desperate plea to stay. He held her hands pinned lightly above her head, leaning down to whisper dirty, possessive promises into her ear, keeping her entirely consumed by him.

They moved together in a fiery, intoxicating blur of friction, heavy panting, and whispered confessions. The emotional stakes made every touch infinitely sharper. Michael pushed her over the edge a second time, and hearing her scream his name drove him over his own peak. With a deep, gutteral groan, he thrust deeply inside her one last time, pouring everything he had left into her as they crashed together in a final, shattering climax.

Hours later, the penthouse was silent.

Michael lay fast asleep beside her, one heavy arm thrown possessively over her waist, his face restored to a peaceful, boyish calm in the faint moonlight. Y/N lay awake, listening to the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing. Her body was completely exhausted, but her mind was wide open.

Gently, agonizingly slowly, she lifted his arm off her waist and slipped out from beneath the covers. She pulled on her clothes, gathered her small bag, and padded quietly on barefoot into the dimly lit kitchen.

She found a notepad and a pen sitting on the counter. Sitting down, tears silently spilling down her cheeks again, she began to write:

Michael

Leaving you tonight is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. Please know that every word I said was true i love you, more than I probably should. The time we spent together, the laughs, the cinema room, the way you held me... I will cherish all of it for the rest of my life. You brought so much light into my world when I needed it most.

Thank you for loving me, even for a short while. Please take care of yourself, stay safe in that crazy world of yours, and never stop sharing your magic with the world.

You will always have a piece of my heart.

Love always,

Y/N

She folded the paper neatly and set it on the kitchen island right next to his car keys where he would see it first thing in the morning.

Glancing back toward the bedroom one last time, Y/N swallowed the painful lump in her throat, slipped her shoes on, and quietly walked out the front door into the early morning Manhattan mist.

As Y/N stepped out into the crisp morning air, she was surprised to find the familiar black sedan idling near the curb. Bill was leaned against the passenger door, a warm thermos of coffee in hand. Seeing her walk out alone with her bag, his gentle eyes softened with immediate understanding.

"I figured you might need a ride home," Bill said softly, opening the door for her.

Y/N climbed into the backseat, sinking into the soft leather as exhaustion finally caught up with her. It was early, but early morning Manhattan traffic was already backing up, trapping the car in a slow, crawling line of red taillights.

With nowhere to go and the quiet hum of the engine filling the silence, Bill cleared his throat gently, breaking the tension.

"He really cares about you, Y/N. More than I’ve ever seen him care about anyone," Bill said quietly, glancing at her through the rearview mirror. "Michael didn't have a normal life growing up. He missed out on a childhood, and he never really learned how standard relationships work. He's guarded, but with you... he opened right up."

Y/N stayed quiet, clutching her purse tight against her lap as Bill continued, his tone filled with deep, fatherly sincerity.

"He actually talked to me about you a few days ago," Bill offered a small, bittersweet smile. "He told me you felt like his Wendy from Peter Pan. Like you were the one person who could make him feel safe, normal, and grounded in a world that's constantly screaming at him. Michael doesn't just fall for people, and he certainly doesn't fight for someone like this unless it's real. That whole Diana situation... it really was just work and respect. There's nothing there. It's only ever been you."

Y/N turned her face toward the window, avoiding Bill's eyes in the mirror. His words, meant to comfort her, only made the ache in her chest far worse. Silent, heavy tears began to spill over her eyelashes, tracing slow paths down her cold cheeks. She didn't sob out loud, keeping her breathing even so Bill wouldn't notice her breaking down in the back.

She looked out at the towering skyscrapers passing by. She wasn't naive—working in a high-end boutique in a luxury district meant she dealt with high-profile clients, celebrities, and prominent figures all the time. She had famous acquaintances, she understood the culture, and she wasn't easily awed by fame.

But Michael’s world wasn't just 'famous.' It was a terrifying, suffocating circus. The constant paparazzi, the ruthless media headlines, the intense pressure, the endless entourage, and the lack of privacy... it was absolute chaos. She was just a normal woman trying to build a peaceful, stable life, and no matter how deeply she loved him, his reality was simply too much for her heart to bear.

Bill smoothly brought the car to a stop right in front of her apartment building. He stepped out and opened her door, offering her a respectful, quiet nod as she stepped out onto the sidewalk, wiping her wet cheeks.

"Take care of yourself, Y/N," Bill said softly.

"Thank you, Bill. For everything," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She turned and walked up the steps into her building, leaving the chaos of Michael's world behind for good.

By late 1984, the world belonged to Michael Jackson. His face dominated every newspaper, his songs blared from every radio, and his Thriller era had elevated him from a superstar to a cultural icon.

For Y/N, the past few years had been dedicated entirely to her career. She had transitioned from running a small boutique to becoming one of Manhattan’s most sought-after fashion stylists, dressing prominent actors, musicians, and industry executives. She was comfortable, successful, and had built a protected, steady life. Yet, seeing Michael’s face on billboards every day was a constant, quiet reminder of the love she had left behind.

The atmosphere inside the private Manhattan lounge was warm, low-lit, and completely guarded from the outside world. Soft jazz floated from a piano in the corner, and the exclusive crowd of high-fashion designers, top stylists, and record executives mingled comfortably over wine and quiet laughter.

Y/N sat at a leather booth near the back of the room, talking softly with one of her primary clients. But from the moment Michael walked through those heavy double doors, the air in the room became charged with an unbearable tension.

He didn't make a scene. He moved through the room with a quiet, graceful presence, surrounded by a few top industry executives. But almost instantly, his dark eyes found hers across the dim lounge.

For the first two hours, it was an agonizing game of glances.

Every time Y/N looked up from her glass, she caught Michael watching her. Across the low-lit room, over the shoulders of laughing executives and chatting designers, his intense, soulful gaze held hers for long, breathless seconds before one of them would reluctantly look away.

When he stood by the bar sipping sparkling water, his eyes tracked her movement as she walked a client to the lounge entrance. When Y/N laughed softly at a colleague's joke, she felt his eyes on her face, filled with a deep, lingering longing that years of separation hadn't managed to dull. The thick, silent communication between them felt louder than any spoken words, pulling at her heart until her chest physically ached.

As the evening began to wind down around midnight, the crowd slowly thinned out. Guests began slipping away into the cool night air, leaving only a handful of people scattered around the venue.

Y/N stepped away from her group to grab her coat from the private coat check near the quiet back hallway. She took a deep, shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly as she adjusted the strap of her bag.

"I thought I was losing my mind every time I looked across the room," a soft, raspy voice whispered from the shadows of the hallway.

Y/N turned her head sharply.

Michael was leaning casually against the doorframe just a few feet away, his hands tucked loosely into his dark trousers. Without the crowd surrounding him, he looked softer, completely stripped of his global megastar persona.

He took a slow, deliberate step forward into the dim light of the hallway, his dark eyes completely consumed by her presence. The long hours of silent eye contact had stripped away all his defenses.

"You kept looking back at me," Michael murmured softly, stopping just a breath away from her, his deep voice thick with emotion. "Tell me I wasn't imagining it.”

Y/N looked at him, her pulse racing as his presence filled the quiet hallway. Seeing him up close after all these years without the lights, the cameras, or the noise felt surreal.

Michael shifted his weight, his dark eyes greedily taking in every detail of her face as if trying to make up for lost time.

"How have you been, Y/N?" Michael asked softly, his raspy voice laced with a deep, genuine curiosity. "What have you been doing all these years? Your work... I see your name everywhere in fashion now. I'm so proud of you. But... how is your life?"

He paused, biting his lower lip nervously before asking the question that had clearly been burning in his chest all night.

"Is there... someone else?" he murmured, his eyes searching hers with raw vulnerability. "A boyfriend? A husband?"

Before she could even process the question, the words began tumbling out of him, as if a dam inside him had finally burst after years of silence.

"Because I swear to you, Y/N... I tried," Michael confessed, his voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "I tried so hard to move on. I really did. I moved out of the old place in Hayvenhurst, I got my own private compound now in California, away from everything. I tried to start fresh. But I couldn't stop thinking about you. Not for a single day. Every song I wrote, every place I went... you were still in my head. I wanted to call you, to come to your shop, but I remembered how overwhelmed you were. I didn't want to force you into my crazy life again. That's not who I am. But God, I missed you."

Y/N felt a heavy, familiar ache tighten in her chest. Hearing him admit that he had been holding onto her all this time made her throat feel tight, but she forced a soft, bittersweet smile onto her face and took a tiny step back.

"Michael... do you know how many years have passed?" Y/N whispered softly, shaking her head as a melancholic look settled in her eyes. "It's been years."

Michael stared at her, his expression flickering with a sudden, anxious uncertainty. "So... what are you saying? You moved on?"

Y/N swallowed hard, the weight of her reality pressing down on her.

"Yes," she said quietly, looking directly into his eyes. "I moved on, Michael. I'm in a relationship now."

The words hung frozen in the cool air of the hallway.

Michael went completely still. It was as if the breath had been forcefully knocked out of his chest. The color drained from his face, and his dark eyes widened in absolute, profound shock. For years, in his mind, their connection had been something frozen in time—an unspoken, eternal bond waiting for the right moment. The realization that she had actually given her heart to someone else shattered him on the spot.

"A... a relationship?" Michael repeated, his voice barely a breath, sounding completely broken and disoriented. He stood there paralyzed, his hands trembling slightly as he stared at her, utterly crushed by the reality he never truly believed would happen.

What Y/N didn't tell him, however, was the painful truth she kept hidden deep inside her own heart. She had entered a new relationship, but only because she thought Michael had moved on with his legendary life. She had forced herself to move forward, but no matter how hard she tried, no other man had ever come close to making her feel the way Michael did. She was in a relationship, but her heart was still silently trapped in the past with him

Michael stood frozen in the dim hallway, looking as if the world had just shattered under his feet. His dark eyes searched her face, trying to find a trace of hesitation, but the quiet confirmation in her posture made his chest ache with a sudden, crushing weight.

"A... a relationship," Michael breathed, his voice barely a rasp. "You... you really gave your heart to someone else."

He swallowed hard, turning his head away for a brief second as he pressed two fingers against his lips to steady his shaking breath. He had spent years holding onto the image of her, convincing himself that time was just a temporary hurdle. The realization that she had built a life without him stung worse than any headline ever could.

When he looked back at her, the usual megastar composure was completely gone. In its place was a quiet, desperate vulnerability.

"I just... I can't let it end like this," Michael whispered, his eyes wide and earnest. "No press. No expectations. I won't cross any lines, I swear to you, Y/N. I just want us to catch up... like two old friends. Please. I just need to talk to you properly."

Y/N stared at him, her heart doing painful somersaults in her chest. She knew she shouldn't. She had a life, a career, and a partner back home. But looking into Michael's tear-filled eyes, knowing that he had spent years missing her, her resolve crumbled.

"I... I have tomorrow off from work," she admitted softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "No meetings, no appointments."

A tiny, breathless spark returned to Michael's eyes. "Fly out with me tonight. Just for the day. My private jet is at the airport right now. You can come to my private estate in Los Angeles. It's completely secluded, totally safe. I'll have you back in New York before your work starts again. Just... give me one day, Y/N."

Y/N took a deep breath, knowing she was stepping into dangerous territory, but the magnetic pull between them was impossible to resist.

"Okay," she whispered. "Just one day."

Within two hours, they were thousands of feet in the air aboard his luxurious, quiet private plane. The flight across the country was peaceful, wrapped in the quiet hum of the jet engines and low, gentle conversations about the little things they had missed over the years.

By sunrise, his private car pulled through the massive, heavily guarded gates of his private Los Angeles estate. Surrounded by lush greenery, rolling hills, and complete privacy, the estate was a peaceful sanctuary far away from the chaotic noise of his global fame.

As the car came to a smooth stop in front of the grand entrance, Michael stepped out and held the door open for her, extending a hand to help her down.

"Welcome to my home, Y/N," Michael said softly, his dark eyes locked onto hers with a look of overwhelming gratitude and unspoken emotion. "Just you and me."

The cool evening air swept across Michael’s private Los Angeles estate, wrapping the grounds in a quiet, serene darkness. Far away from the blinding lights and deafening crowds, the estate felt like a hidden paradise beneath the starlit sky.

They spent the entire evening wrapped in each other's company, catching up on the years they had lost. Michael eagerly showed her around his private sanctuary, his face lighting up like a kid as he introduced her to his home zoo including a playful young chimpanzee named Bubbles, who immediately took a liking to Y/N. They walked through the dimly lit gardens, laughed freely in his private cinema room while watching old movies, and talked until the quiet hum of the night settled over the house.

It was pure, effortless magic. The years of separation vanished as they slipped back into their old rhythm. For Michael, having her near was a breath of fresh air he hadn't realized he was starving for. For Y/N, being by his side felt like coming home.

Late into the night, the mood grew soft and intimate.

Y/N stepped into the master bathroom to change into something comfortable. Since the trip was completely spontaneous, she had only brought a simple silk nightgown. But the gown sat high on her thighs, barely covering her curves, leaving the soft bottom swell of her rear exposed—a detail Michael had secretly adored since the very day he met her. Over the years, her figure had only gotten fuller and more stunning.

When she stepped into the dimly lit kitchen to grab a glass of water, barefoot and oblivious, Michael was already standing near the counter.

He turned around—and completely froze.

His dark eyes dipped down her body, taking in the length of her legs and the soft curve of her hips beneath the thin silk. As Y/N reached up into a high cabinet for a glass, the hem of her nightgown lifted even higher, her hips shifting softly with the motion.

The air in the kitchen instantly thickened.

Michael swallowed hard, his throat going completely dry. Years of restrained longing, buried desire, and unbearable jealousy boiled straight to the surface. He couldn't hold himself back any longer. Moving soundlessly across the room, he closed the distance between them, stepping right up behind her until his warm chest pressed flush against her back.

Y/N gasped softly as his big, warm hands slid around her waist, his thumbs pressing possessively into her hips.

"Michael..." she breathed, her pulse skyrocketing. "We shouldn't—"

"I tried to be good all evening, Y/N," Michael rasped against the shell of her ear, his breath hot and uneven against her neck. "I really tried. But seeing you like this... knowing another man gets to touch you like this now... it's driving me insane."

He turned her around in his arms, pinning her softly against the kitchen counter. His gaze burned into hers with an intense, raw hunger.

"Tell me the truth," he murmured, his deep voice dropping low and commanding. "When you're with him... do you think of me? Does he make you feel the way I do?"

Y/N’s breath hitched, completely helpless against the magnetic pull radiating between them. Before she could answer, Michael leaned down and captured her lips in a deep, fierce, demanding kiss that shattered every last bit of her discipline.

The spark exploded into an irresistible fire.

Without breaking the kiss, Michael lifted her onto the marble counter, parting her thighs. He sank to his knees right between her legs, pushing the hem of her nightgown up to her waist. He buried his face between her thighs, his warm tongue working with relentless, masterclass precision, satisfying her intimate center until her toes curled and she whimpered his name into the quiet kitchen.

Driven by the overwhelming heat, Y/N slid down off the counter. She sank to her knees in front of him, her hands untying his waist, eager to satisfy him in return. She took him into her mouth, taking her time to make him feel every bit of her devotion, driving Michael to grip the counter edge, his head thrown back as deep, helpless groans escaped his chest.

Unable to take the distance a second longer, Michael lifted her effortlessly into his arms and carried her straight into his master bedroom, laying her down onto the massive, soft bed.

He hovered over her, shedding his clothes in the shadows, his dark eyes burning down into hers as he lined himself up at her entrance.

"Look at me, baby," Michael growled softly, his voice heavy with dominance as he pushed himself deep inside her in one long, breathtaking stroke.

Y/N arched into the mattress with a loud gasp, her fingernails digging into his broad shoulders as he established a heavy, rhythmic pace. He loved her with a raw, possessive intensity taking full control of her body, driving her over the edge again and again in the dim bedroom light.

"Tell me," Michael whispered huskily into her ear, his hips moving in a relentless, intoxicating rhythm, claiming every inch of her. "Tell me he doesn't hold you like this. Tell me who does it best, Y/N. Say it."

"You..." Y/N sobbed out softly, completely undone by the pleasure, her eyes glistening with tears as she looked up into his intense gaze. "It's always been you, Michael... I think about you every single time... I never forgot you..."

A victorious, fiery satisfaction flared in Michael's eyes. With a ragged groan, he locked his lips onto hers, pulling her flush against his body as he drove into her one last deep, shattering time, pouring every ounce of his love, pain, and passion into her as they broke together in a breathtaking climax.

At 6:00 AM, the LA sky was still painted in deep, velvety shades of night. Y/N felt a gentle nudge against her shoulder and a soft, warm breath against her ear.

"Y/N... wake up, sweet girl. I want to show you something," Michael whispered softly, his dark eyes glowing in the faint shadows of his master bedroom.

Y/N stirred, rubbing her eyes as reality suddenly slammed into her chest like a heavy weight. A sharp wave of shock and panic washed over her as she realized where she was, what they had done last night, and the fact that back in Manhattan, her boyfriend had probably tried calling her multiple times.

Before her spiraling thoughts could consume her, Michael took her hand, wrapped a warm silk robe around her shoulders, and led her quietly through the silent hallways of his estate.

He brought her into a custom, beautifully crafted private study that resembled a classic, old-world classroom—complete with dark wood shelves, vintage books, and a grand oak desk.

"Michael... what is this?" Y/N asked, her hands trembling inside the pockets of the robe. "I shouldn't be here. My life is back in New York. My boyfriend—"

"Forget about him for just a second," Michael interrupted gently, stepping in front of her. His expression was dead serious, completely devoid of games or uncertainty. He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a small, velvet jewelry box, setting it gently into her hands. "I bought this years ago. I kept it in this desk every single day, praying that one day I'd get to hand it to you."

With a shaking breath, Y/N clicked the box open.

Resting on the black velvet was a breathtaking, flawless diamond ring that caught the faint morning light, glittering magnificently. Y/N gasped, completely flabbergasted, staring at the ring in absolute shock.

"Michael... oh my god," she breathed, her mind spinning. "What... what is this? What are you asking me?"

"I don't want secrets anymore, Y/N," Michael said, taking the box and slipping the heavy diamond ring onto her left finger, his eyes locked onto hers with relentless determination. "No more running, no more hidden pasts, and no more pretending we don't belong together. We're both older now. We're in better places. I have the Grammy Awards coming up the biggest night of my life. I want you on my arm. I want you wearing this ring, and I want the whole world to know that you are mine."

"How can we do this?!" Y/N stuttered, overwhelmed by the sheer velocity of everything. "Michael, I have a boyfriend! I have a whole life in New York! And the distance you live in Los Angeles now, my work, my shop is on the East Coast!"

Michael grabbed both of her hands, pulling her close, his voice filled with undeniable authority and warmth as he talked her right through every objection.

"You leave him," Michael said firmly, leaving no room for argument. "You know in your heart it was over the second you got on that plane with me last night. You already crossed that line because you belong with me. And as for the distance? My plane is yours. You can run your boutique, visit New York whenever you want, or move your main office out here. I will build you whatever you need. We will make it work. But I am not letting you walk away a second time."

His words settled over her like a spell. Deep down, she knew he was right. She had betrayed her relationship the moment she laid in his arms; staying with her boyfriend now would only be a lie.

That very afternoon, sitting in Michael's sunlit courtyard with him watching her supportively from across the table, Y/N dialed her boyfriend's number back in New York. With tears quietly falling down her face, she told him the truth that it was over, that she couldn't continue the relationship, and that they needed to part ways for good. It was painful, but the moment she hung up, a massive weight lifted off her chest.

She looked down at the brilliant diamond ring resting securely on her finger, then up at Michael, who offered her a soft, victorious smile. The terrifying circus of his world was still out there waiting for them, but this time, standing beside a man who was ready to claim her in front of the entire universe, she was finally ready to face it.

That afternoon, the golden California sunlight poured into the quiet library of Michael’s estate. Y/N sat at the mahogany desk with the phone pressed to her ear, her hands trembling so violently that the heavy diamond ring on her finger clicked softly against the receiver.

Across the room, Michael stood near the French doors. He kept his distance to give her space, but his eyes never left her, offering a steady, quiet anchor of support.

When her boyfriend finally answered on the third ring, his voice was filled with frantic worry.

"Y/N? God, where have you been?!" he asked, his tone laced with exhaustion and frustration. "I called you all night. I came by your apartment, I went to the boutique... your staff said you disappeared after the gala. What is going on? Are you okay?"

Y/N swallowed the thick lump in her throat, closing her eyes as a heavy wave of guilt washed over her.

"I'm okay... I'm so sorry for worrying you," she began, her voice cracking slightly. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be direct. "Listen to me... I need to talk to you. And I need you to just let me speak."

There was a sudden, heavy pause on the other end of the line. Her boyfriend’s voice dropped, instantly picking up on the tone. "Y/N... what's happening? Where are you?"

"I'm not in New York," she confessed softly, pressing a hand over her trembling mouth before continuing. "I... I realized last night that I can't keep doing this. I can't stay in this relationship with you anymore."

"What?!" his voice rose in utter shock. "What are you talking about? Everything was fine two days ago! Did something happen at the gala? Did someone say something to you?"

"No, nothing like that," Y/N lied gently, protecting him from the harsh reality of where she actually was and who she was with. "It’s not about something you did. You have been wonderful to me. You’ve been patient, loving, and supportive... but I haven't been honest with you. Or with myself."

"Y/N, please, just fly back home," he pleaded, his voice breaking as reality set in. "Whatever this is, we can talk about it in person. Don't do this over the phone!"

"I can't fly back and pretend, because it wouldn't be fair to you," she said, tears quietly spilling over her eyelashes and tracing down her cheeks. "The truth is... my heart was never fully in this. I tried so hard to move past my past, to give you the love you deserved... but I couldn't. I was holding onto someone else the entire time. I thought I was ready, but I’m not. And staying with you while my heart is somewhere else is just hurting you."

Silence hung heavy over the phone line, broken only by the sound of her ex-partner's heavy breathing.

"Is there someone else?" he asked quietly, his voice hollow and defeated. "Did you go back to him?"

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Michael's across the room. Michael took a subtle step forward, his dark eyes filled with absolute warmth and reassurance, silently reminding her that she wasn't alone anymore.

"I have to end this," Y/N said firmly, avoiding the direct answer to spare him the cruel detail. "I am so, so sorry for the way I handled this and for hurting you. I will have someone pick up my things from your place later this week. You deserve a woman who is 100% yours... and I just can't be that for you."

"Y/N, wait—"

"Goodbye," she whispered softly, and before he could plead any further, she pulled the phone away and clicked it back into its cradle.

The library fell into dead silence. Y/N buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she let out a quiet sob—a mixture of intense guilt for breaking a good man's heart, and profound relief that the lie was finally over.

Within seconds, warm, strong arms wrapped securely around her. Michael pulled her out of the chair and into his lap, holding her tightly against his chest. He smoothed down her hair, placing soft, lingering kisses on top of her head as she cried into his shoulder.

"You did the right thing, baby," Michael murmured huskily into her hair, rubbing her back in long, comforting strokes. "It's over now. No more lies. No more living in the past. From today on, it's just you and me."

Y/N pulled back slightly, looking up through her tears into his soulful eyes, her hand resting against his cheek the heavy diamond ring sparkling in the sunlight between them. The guilt was still there, but as Michael leaned down to capture her lips in a deep, reassuring kiss, she knew there was no turning back.

The night of the 26th Annual Grammy Awards in February 1984 became the defining moment of Michael’s career and the public rebirth of their love story.

The Shrine Auditorium in Los Angeles was completely engulfed in a wave of blinding cameras, screaming fans, and international media. But inside the private limousine, away from the roaring crowd, Michael reached across the leather seat and took Y/N’s hand.

He was dressed in his legendary, glittering military jacket with his signature white sequined glove, looking every bit like the biggest star on the planet. Yet, his gaze on her was soft and completely grounded.

"Ready, baby?" Michael murmured softly, his thumb gently caressing the flawless diamond ring sparkling on her finger.

Y/N took a deep breath, looking into his eyes, and smiled. "With you? Always."

When the car door opened, the entire world seemed to explode into flashbulbs and deafening cheers. Security cleared a path as Michael stepped onto the carpet, but instead of walking alone or hiding her behind his team, he held Y/N’s hand firmly in his, proudly pulling her right up to his side for the entire world to see.

The press went into an absolute frenzy. Headlines were born in seconds as reporters shouted her name, desperate to know who the stunning woman was holding the hand of the King of Pop. Michael didn't answer the invasive questions; he simply smiled warmly, kept his arm securely around her waist, and guided her safely inside the auditorium.

What followed was an unprecedented, historic night.

Inside the grand theater, sitting right next to Michael in the front row, Y/N watched him shatter every record in music history. One by one, his name was called out across the major categories. Every single time he won, Michael turned to Y/N first—pulling her into a tight, lingering embrace and kissing her cheek before stepping up to the stage.

By the end of the night, Michael had won an astounding eight Grammy Awards in a single evening, breaking the all-time record for the most Grammys won by an artist in a single night.

As he stood on stage holding his final trophy, taking off his iconic sunglasses under the glowing spotlight, he looked out into the crowd of legends standing up to applaud him. His eyes searched the front row, locking directly onto Y/N.

"I want to thank my family, my team, and all the fans around the world," Michael spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing across the global broadcast. He paused, a soft, radiant smile spreading across his face as he looked straight down at her. "And most of all, to my Wendy... my magic girl. Thank you for coming home. This night belongs to you."

The crowd erupted into cheers once more, but for Y/N, the entire auditorium faded into absolute quiet.

Later that night, as the chaotic celebration parties raged on across Los Angeles, Michael and Y/N stood quietly on the high balcony of his private estate, watching the city lights twinkle beneath the dark sky. The golden Grammy trophies were lined up on the marble table inside, but Michael didn't care about the gold.

He stepped up behind her, wrapping his arms securely around her waist and resting his chin softly on her shoulder.

"I told you I'd bring you back into my world the right way," Michael whispered, his lips brushing against her neck as she leaned her back comfortably against his chest.

Y/N looked down at the diamond ring glittering on her left hand, then placed her fingers gently over his warm hands resting on her stomach. After years of heartbreak, distance, and heavy silence, the storm had finally passed.

"You did, Michael," Y/N replied softly, turning her head to press a deep, loving kiss against his lips. "You really did."

Michael smiled into the kiss, pulling her closer against him as the cool midnight breeze wrapped around them knowing that this time, he was never going to let her go again.

The end.

Summary: Y/N has noticed Michael Jackson looking at her every time she visits Studio 65 in New York, but he has always been too shy to approach her. One night, he finally finds the courage to talk to her, while her close female friend joins them and quickly develops a connection with him too. The three end up in one of Studio 65’s private lounges

Pairing: Michael Jackson × Y/N × Y/N’s female friend a three way. with Michael at the center of the connection.

!!!- smut , threesome, mentioning mama, baby, dirty talk, michael talking reading through it, overstimulating kink, fingering, oral, doggy style, heated makeouts, high sexual tension, almost getting caught. and much more.

ENJOY!

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New York City seemed to come alive after dark, and Studio 65 was one of the places where that energy felt impossible to ignore. The famous nightclub was filled with music, laughter, flashing lights, and people dressed as though the night had only just begun. Y/N had been coming there regularly and would find her club friend there who she only ever see inside 54 they didn’t have that close bond but sure knew how to make fun, and although she loved the atmosphere, there was another reason she had started looking forward to certain nights at the club.

Michael.

She had noticed him weeks ago.

The first time, she hadn’t thought much of it. She had been standing near the edge of the dance floor with her friend when she happened to glance across the room and saw him watching her. Their eyes met for only a second before Michael quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in the conversation happening beside him. Y/N had smiled to herself, but she hadn’t thought much more about it.

The second time it happened, however, she knew it wasn’t an accident.

She had been sitting at the bar with her friend when she felt someone’s eyes on her. When she looked across the room, Michael was there again, and this time he smiled before looking away. Y/N had immediately turned back toward her drink, trying to hide the smile forming on her own face.

Her friend had noticed.

“He’s looking at you again,” she had whispered.

Y/N had laughed and shook her head. “You’re imagining things.”

“There’s literally nobody standing behind you.”

That had made Y/N laugh even harder.

From that point onward, it became something of a game. Whenever Y/N visited Studio 65, Michael seemed to be there somewhere, and whenever their eyes met, one of them would inevitably look away. Michael always seemed to want to approach her, but something stopped him every time.

Y/N couldn’t help wondering if he was simply shy.

She found that strangely charming.

Tonight, Y/N and her friend entered Studio 65 shortly after ten. The club was already crowded, and the sound of music followed them from the entrance all the way toward the bar. Colored lights swept across the dance floor, catching flashes of sequins and jewelry as people moved to the beat.

Her friend leaned toward her as they walked.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“Definitely.”

They made their way toward the bar, but Y/N had barely ordered before she felt that familiar sensation again.

Someone was watching her.

She turned her head.

Michael stood on the other side of the room.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other.

Y/N smiled.

Instead of immediately looking away, Michael smiled back.

Her friend followed Y/N’s gaze and immediately grinned.

“Oh, he’s here.”

Y/N tried to sound casual. “Who?”

Her friend gave her an unimpressed look. “Don’t even try that.”

Y/N laughed and looked back toward Michael.

“He always does that.”

“What?”

“Looks at me and then gets nervous.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow. “Maybe you should make it easier for him.”

“How?”

“Go talk to him.”

Y/N shook her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not the one who’s been staring at someone for weeks.”

Her friend laughed. “Fair enough.”

They continued talking, but Y/N couldn’t stop herself from occasionally looking across the club.

Michael was still there.

Only this time, he wasn’t staying where he was.

He had said something to the people around him and was slowly making his way toward them.

Y/N’s stomach fluttered.

Her friend noticed immediately.

“He’s coming.”

“I can see that.”

“Don’t panic.”

“I’m not panicking.”

“You look like you’re panicking.”

Y/N laughed nervously. “Just stop talking.”

A few seconds later, Michael was standing in front of them.

For someone who seemed so confident whenever Y/N had seen him performing, he suddenly looked surprisingly nervous.

“Hi,” he said softly.

Y/N smiled. “Hi.”

Michael glanced briefly at her friend before looking back at Y/N. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“You’re not”

He smiled.

“I’ve seen you two here before.”

Y/N couldn’t help teasing him. “I know.”

His eyes widened slightly.

“You do?”

“You look at me every time.”

Michael laughed quietly and looked down, almost embarrassed.

“I do?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I didn’t realize it was that obvious.”

Her friend immediately joined the conversation. “It was extremely obvious.”

Michael laughed, and Y/N couldn’t help smiling at the way his nervousness seemed to disappear for a moment.

“I’ve wanted to talk to you,” he admitted.

Y/N looked at him curiously. “Then why didn’t you?”

He hesitated before answering.

“I was nervous.”

“You?”

Michael nodded.

“Me.”

She laughed softly. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I didn’t know what to say.”

“You could have just said hello.” Her friend said

He smiled. “I suppose I could have.”

Y/N looked at him for a moment before saying, “I’m glad you finally did.”

Michael’s smile became warmer.

“So am I.”

They spent the next hour together, and what had started as a nervous introduction quickly became an easy conversation because of the liquor they were all drinking Michael was quieter than most people at the club, but once he became comfortable, Y/N discovered that he had a playful sense of humor that made her laugh constantly.

They talked about the music playing through the club, about New York, and about how strange it could be to have people recognize you everywhere you went. Michael admitted that sometimes he wished he could spend an entire evening somewhere without anyone knowing who he was.

Y/N understood what he meant.

“Then tonight you can just be Michael,” she told him.

He looked at her with a small smile.

“I like that.”

Eventually, the music changed to something more energetic, and her friend pulled Y/N onto the dance floor. Michael followed them, and before long the three of them were laughing and dancing together.

Y/N noticed that Michael seemed much more relaxed now. Every once in a while, he would catch her eye and smile, and she began to realize that the shy man who had spent weeks watching her from across the room was slowly disappearing.

At one point, their hands brushed while they were dancing.

Neither of them moved away.

Michael looked at her.

Y/N smiled.

He reached for her hand, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she wanted to.

She didn’t.

Their fingers intertwined, and they continued dancing.

Her friend watched them for a moment before shaking her head with a smile.

“You two are ridiculous.”

Y/N laughed. “What did we do?”

“Nothing. That’s the problem.”

Michael laughed.

“She’s right.”

Y/N looked at him. “You’re taking her side?”

“Maybe.”

Her friend smiled triumphantly.

“I like him.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve known him for an hour.”

“And?”

Michael laughed again.

He couldn’t help himself but eyed her friend.

The way she was swinging her hips left to right as her behind jiggled too.

She caught him watching and giggled shaking her head

“Not so shy after all huh mr. Jackson”

Y/n laughed at the comment her friend made “It’s time for another drink!”

As the night continued, Studio 65 became even more crowded. The dance floor was packed, conversations grew louder, and the music seemed to vibrate through the walls.

Michael leaned toward Y/N so she could hear him.

“Do you want somewhere quieter?”

Y/N nodded.

“That sounds nice.”

Her friend followed them as Michael led them through a hallway toward one of the private lounges.

The moment the door closed behind them, the atmosphere changed completely. The music from the main club became a distant rhythm, and the soft lighting made the room feel much more secluded.

She looked at him.

“Do you come here often?”

“Sometimes. It’s nice when I need a break from everything.”

Her friend sat down on the couch and smiled.

“I can understand that.”

For a while, the three simply talked.

Y/N began noticing something she hadn’t expected.

Her friend and Michael were getting along remarkably well.

They had their own jokes, and Michael seemed genuinely interested whenever she spoke. There was an easy warmth between them that didn’t feel forced, and Y/N found herself smiling whenever she noticed it.

At one point, her friend sat beside Michael while Y/N sat on his other side.

Michael looked between them.

“I’m glad you both came tonight.” He said

They both agreed

For a moment, nobody said anything.

Eventually, Y/N noticed that Michael’s hand was resting close to hers on the couch.

She looked down.

Then at him.

He noticed her expression.

Slowly, he his hand moved to her thigh

while his other hand rested beside her friend.

Y/N looked at him with big bambi eyes and sucked her bottom lip feeling her heart beating faster in her chest

Michael looked at lips then at her.

Their eyes met.

The room suddenly felt quieter.

Michael leaned toward her, but he stopped before closing the distance between them.

Y/N understood the question.

She smirked and moved closer.

Their lips met in a gentle kiss.

It was brief, but when they pulled apart, neither of them could stop smiling.

Y/N’s friend watched them from the couch.

“I was beginning to wonder if you two were ever going to do that.”

“You feel left out?” Y/n asked smiling naughty at her friend.

Michael looked at Y/n and then at her friend, and immediately picked up on the high sexual tension between them

“I do.” Her friend pouted

Michael felt his dick hardening inside his pants and couldn't shake the feeling.

“if she feels left out, why doesn't she join us?” Michael said boldly

The words hung in the intimate darkness of the VIP booth, electric and undeniable.

His hand remained resting on y/n thigh, warm and heavy, while his other hand brushed gently against her friend’s thigh, silently pulling her into the fold.

The atmosphere in the booth shifted instantly from quiet conversation to a dense, undeniable tension.

Her friend hesitated for a fraction of a second, her breath catching as the invitation settled between them.

The initial feeling of being sidelined melted away, replaced by the thrilling heat of the moment. As he leaned in, the boundaries dissolved. What started as an unspoken longing turned a long kiss

Afterward, Y/n stared at the scene unfolding in front of her, her gaze heavy with desire. She had never experienced anything like this before. She couldn't help herself; she felt the thong she was wearing becoming completely soaked between her legs.

Her breath grew faster and faster.

Here she was, caught in an intensely dirty situation with Michael the man she had been crushing on for a while.

Michael pressed his hand against her hip and pulled her closer. He broke away from the kiss with her friend.

He looked at her, his eyes asking for permission. Without a second's hesitation, she slid his hand which was resting on her thigh up toward her wet, soaked underwear, carefully opening her legs a bit wider

Meanwhile, her friend straddled one of his legs, pressing warm kisses against his neck

Michael swallowed hard, his throat dry. He had been intimate with women before, but never found himself in this kind of situation where he had to deal with two woman.

This was the first time he had ever found himself in such a naughty situation, and he could barely believe it was actually happening.

He began to gently rub Y/n clitoris through her underwear.

Her eyes widened at the touch. At the same time, her friend stroked her hand over the hard bulge in Michael’s pants while sucking on his neck.

Michael let a low groan escape his lips.

Y/n bit her lip, a soft moan breaking from her mouth as she tried to say his name.

"Micha..." she breathed under her breath, unable to get the full word out.

His lips met Y/n again in a deep kiss.

As they kissed, he slid her thong aside, making direct contact with her clitoris.

She swallowed hard, gasping for air.

Another moan escaped her lips as she whispered, "Please... please."

Michael broke away from the kiss just as her friend began working to open his pants.

Michael’s breath hitched as the metallic click of his belt buckle echoed softly in the quiet corner of the booth.

Her friend skillfully slid his pants and underwear down, freeing his fully erect length into the cool air of the VIP room.

A sharp intake of breath left her mouth as her eyes took him in, before she leaned down to wrap her lips around the head of his shaft, taking him into her warm mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.

The sensation sent a surge of heat directly to Michael’s core.

He arched his back slightly.

"Gosh," he whispered, his voice dark and raspy

While her friend kept up a rhythmic, wet suction at his tip, Michael slid two fingers directly inside y/n soaking warmth. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her head falling back against the leather seat as he began a steady, deep thrusting motion with his hand, rubbing his thumb over her sensitive bundle of nerves with every stroke.

“You’re so wet for me mama , You wanted this all along?” He asked looking into her eyes

“Hhhm— y-yes michael, please-please go faster!” She squealed feeling herself getting close to climax

Y/n watched the view between Michael and her friend, her pulse hammering in her throat. The sheer sight of her friend giving him oral sex right in front of her pushed her over the edge of restraint.

"Michael... right there," Y/n whimpered, her hands gripping his shoulders for leverage as her body began to tremble on the verge of a powerful climax.

The heat coil in her lower stomach snapped, sending violent waves of pleasure rushing through her veins.

"Michael... Michael i-i’m coming”

"Come for me mama let me see how bad you wanted this” he breathed feeling her friend mouth go up and down filling de room with wet sounds

his big eyes widening in pure wonder as he watched her body tremble in the sweet agony of her climax. A breathtaking, quiet gasp escaped his lips. "Look at you... you're so, so beautiful like that..."

Determined to take it further, Michael tapped her friend’s shoulder softly. She pulled back from his shaft with a soft slick sound, looking up at him with dark, glazed eyes.

"Get down on the floor... please," Michael whispered softly, his voice barely above a breath, trembling with a mix of awe and hesitation.

"Both of you. I... I want to watch you..."

Y/n looked at her friend, a thrill running down her spine. Without a word, they both slid off the leather seat onto the soft carpet right in front of Michael’s knees.

Michael leaned back against the booth, his eyes wide and innocent, yet filled with a deep, quiet heat. Slowly, almost shyly, he wrapped his fingers around his own shaft and began a steady, gentle stroke.

"Look at you two," he murmured under his breath, a soft, timid smile touching his lips. "You look... so beautiful together. So pure... and so naughty."

"Do you like watching us, Michael?" Petra whispered, her voice shaking as her friend reached up, cupping Petra’s cheek, and pulled her into a deep, feverish kiss. Their tongues tangled, tasting Michael on each other's lips.

Her friend slid her hand down Y/n stomach, pushing her thong completely aside. "She’s so wet for you, Michael... she’s dripping," her friend teased gently, before burying her face between Y/n thighs.

Y/n let out an echoing gasp, her back arching off the floor as her friend’s warm tongue lapped at her slick clitoris.

"Oh, sweet girl..." Michael breathed out softly, a quiet, high-pitched gasp escaping his lips as he watched them. His hand moved a little faster on himself, but his gaze remained gentle, almost mesmerized. "You taste so good to her, don't you, Petra? Don't hold back... just let it happen..."

"Michael... oh god, please,"Y/n whimpered, tangling her fingers in her friend's hair.

"I'm right here," Michael whispered back, his voice smooth, warm, and sweet as velvet. "It's okay it'sso sweet. Just let me watch you baby”

Her friend kept up the steady, velvet strokes between Y/N’s thighs, guided by Michael’s quiet words.

Y/N couldn't hold it back any longer.

The pressure built to an impossible peak before bursting, sending an electric surge straight through her core.

Her back arched off the floor, her hands clutching her friend's shoulders as a breathless cry echoed around the booth.

"Michael... oh god!" Y/N sobbed out, her body trembling uncontrollably as the intense climax washed over her in heavy, rhythmic waves.

"Let it go mama show me how much you can take girl," Michael breathed softly, his dark eyes wide with pure wonder as he watched her surrender to the pleasure.

A high, delicate gasp escaped his lips. "Look at you... you're so, so beautiful like that. So sweet..."

His own hand moved faster over his shaft, inspired by the raw sight of her release, though his demeanor stayed calm and reverent.

As Y/N’s shaky breaths began to slow, her friend pulled back with a soft smile, licking her lips clean before looking up at Michael. "She's all warmed up for you now, Michael," she whispered playfully.

Michael swallowed hard, a shy, tender smile breaking across his face. He stopped stroking himself, his chest rising and falling as he looked between the two women lying at his feet.

"Come back up here with me," Michael murmured softly, his voice silky and inviting "I think-think it's my turn now, if that's okay with you girls”

They both noddes and still had their hands on eachother playing with eachother breast

“Can i have you now?” Looking at Y/n friend Michael said he couldn’t believe how confident the words came out of his mouth

Michael’s hand slid along Y/N’s waist, gently guiding her to sit beside him on the leather couch while he turned his attention toward her friend. A soft, breathless sigh left his lips as her friend crawled onto his lap, straddling him with an eager smile.

"Look at you... so impatient," Michael whispered, his voice smooth and incredibly soft, yet dripping with quiet intensity. His hands rested lightly on her hips, his thumbs rubbing small, soothing circles against her skin. "You've been so good watching us... now it's your turn."

Her friend gasped as Michael lifted his hips slightly, aligning his bare shaft with her slick opening.

"Michael... please, don't tease me," she begged softly, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"I'm not teasing, sweet girl," Michael murmured, his dark eyes fixed on hers with that gentle, innocent intensity.

He leaned up, pressing a feather-light kiss to her lips before whispering directly against her mouth, "I'm going to take my time with you. I want to feel every single inch... so warm, so tight for me."

Slowly, deliberately, Michael pushed upward, sinking halfway inside her. Her friend threw her head back with a sharp, needy moan, her nails digging into his shoulders.

Y/N watched from inches away, her heart pounding as Michael’s gaze flicked over to her, a soft, timid smile touching his lips while he stayed buried inside her friend.

She couldn’t help but felt a little jealous seeing the situation more clearer

She tried to put her thoughts away while rubbing her clit

"She feels so good, Y/N..." Michael breathed softly, his hips beginning a slow, hypnotic roll that made her friend whimper beneath him. "Isn't she beautiful? Tell her how pretty she looks taking all of me..."

Y/N’s chest tightened as the words hit her. She forced a breath through her lips, but the compliment felt heavy, almost sharp in her throat. Sitting just inches away, watching her friend move on top of Michael,

It wasn't just physical anymore. Watching the gentle, intense way Michael held her friend—his soft touch, his velvety voice, the effortless intimacy he created—made something shift deep inside Y/N. She had known she was attracted to him, but the sudden ache in her chest made her realize the truth: she liked him far more than she had originally thought. She didn't just want the scene; she wanted him, his focus, his soft gazes entirely on her.

“S-she looks beautiful Michael” she whispered

Michael’s dark eyes flicked over to Y/N, catching the sudden shift in her body language and the flat tone of her silence. A faint, questioning look crossed his face for a split second, sensing that something had changed in the air. But he was so lost in the haze of the moment, his body completely immersed in the intense heat and pleasure, that the thought slipped right past him before he could make sense of it.

Instead, his hips kept up a steady, agonizingly slow roll upward, driving deeper into her friend. Her friend threw her head back, letting out a loud, breathless moan that echoed softly in the quiet booth.

"Michael... god, you feel so deep..." her friend whimpered, her hands clutching at his arms as she began to ride him with a faster, desperate rhythm.

Michael swallowed hard, his breath catching in his throat as a soft, trembling gasp escaped his lips. The sheer sensation took over completely, pushing every other thought out of his mind. He arched his back slightly, his fingers digging into her friend’s waist to guide her movement, his face flushed with pure, overwhelmed pleasure.

Unable to just sit there and watch anymore, Y/N shifted closer, fueled by a sudden, desperate need to be part of the heat between them. She reached out, leaning in to capture her friend’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss, tasting Michael on her breath. As their tongues tangled, Y/N slid her hand down between their joined bodies, her fingers finding her friend’s swollen, dripping clitoris. She began to rub it with a fast, firm rhythm, matching the heavy thrusts from beneath.

Her friend gasped into the kiss, her body shuddering as the double sensation pushed her straight over the edge. "Y/N... oh fuck, yes..." her friend moaned against her mouth, her hips bucking frantically.

Michael looked between the two of them, his dark eyes wide, a quiet, breathless groan escaping him. "Look at you two..." he whispered softly, his voice thick with desire as he kept up his steady rhythm from below. "You're taking care of her so well, Y/N... so sweet, so dirty..."

"She needs it, Michael," Y/N breathed out against her friend's lips, her thumb swirling over the sensitive nerve ending while her eyes locked onto his. "Tell her how good she feels for both of us."

"You feel... incredible," Michael murmured, his breathing short and shallow as he rolled his hips up into her friend. "Both of you... driving me so crazy..."

The double sensation was too much for her friend to bear. With Y/N’s fingers working her clitoris and Michael pushing deep inside her from below, her friend’s body went completely rigid. A loud, breathless cry ripped from her throat as a powerful climax surged through her.

"Michael! Y/N... oh god!" her friend sobbed out, her inner walls clamping tightly around Michael’s shaft as her body trembled in full release.

Michael let out a low, shuddering gasp at the intense pressure, holding her waist until the contractions finally settled into a soft, steady quiver.

Once her breath slowed, Michael gently helped her slide off his lap. Without needing to be told, both women shifted into position on the long leather lounge sofa. They lay flat on their stomachs, pressing their chests against the cushion while pushing their hips high into the air, their arches exposed and waiting for him.

Michael knelt behind them, his dark eyes instantly locking onto Y/N. While her friend rested her head sideways on the couch, her eyes closed in a blissful haze, Y/N turned her head all the way back, looking directly over her shoulder to meet his gaze.

Without hesitation, Michael lined himself up with Y/N's soaking warmth. Slowly, smoothly, he pushed his entire length deep inside her.

Y/N gasped, her back arching as he filled her completely. She didn't break eye contact for a single second.

"Oh... sweet girl," Michael whispered, his voice smooth as velvet and heavy with pure affection. He began a slow, deep rhythm, his eyes fixed entirely on hers. "You feel so, so warm... so tight for me. Look at you taking all of me..."

While his hips kept a steady, hypnotic drive into Y/N, Michael reached his hand out to the side, sliding two fingers between her friend’s thighs to softly stroke her wet clitoris. But her friend kept her head down, lost in her own quiet world, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of them.

Y/N’s chest heaved. Looking into his soft, wide dark eyes, feeling the intense, quiet tenderness in every single stroke, the heavy emotion inside her boiled over. She locked eyes with him and silently mouthed the words, her lips moving without sound:

I want you.

Michael’s breath hitched instantly. He stopped mid-thrust, his heart hammering against his ribs as he read her lips.

A quiet wave of realization washed over him. The heat in her gaze, the intensity of her expression—it wasn't just physical play anymore. She was falling for him. And deep down, Michael had always felt a subtle pull toward Y/N from the very beginning. Her friend had been a thrilling bonus, but Y/N... Y/N was the one he had truly wanted all along.

A tender, breathless smile touched Michael’s lips. He leaned forward over her back, resting his chest against hers while staying buried deep inside her, his breath warm against her ear.

"I know, sweet girl," Michael whispered, his voice dropping to an impossibly gentle, intimate murmur meant only for her ears. "I know... I want you too."

The sudden rush of warmth inside Y/N proved to be too much for Michael. With his heart racing and his eyes locked onto hers, he buried himself deep one last time, letting out a soft, shuddering moan as he came inside her. He remained still against her for a long moment, completely breathless, unable to even think about moving on to her friend.

Once the haze cleared, reality slowly began to set back into the VIP booth. Her friend quickly stood up, looking disheveled, and began hurriedly pulling her clothes back on. "I... I need to go to the bathroom. My stomach feels awful," she muttered, not waiting for a response before rushing out of the room.

Y/N sat on the edge of the leather lounge couch, silently gathering her things. She dressed normally, but a heavy, uncomfortable quiet fell over her. Now that the alcohol was wearing off, a wave of deep shame and regret washed over her. She couldn't even bring herself to look at Michael.

Michael, on the other hand, Didn’t know she felt like that he just walked around the couch as he casually pulled his boxers and pants back on. But as he watched Y/N, he noticed how silent she had become—stepping right back into her original shy, closed-off shell. He stepped over to help her with her things, his brows furrowed in concern.

"Hey... what's wrong, Y/N?" Michael asked softly, taking advantage of the sudden privacy. "Are you okay?"

Y/N kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, her mind spinning. She felt completely overwhelmed and embarrassed, unable to admit to him that she regretted what had just happened.

She didn’t regret sleeping with Michael she regret it being a threesome

She didn’t answer Michael and looked up at him with puffy eyes

“M-michael i-

"Can I... can I see you again?" Michael added, his voice gentle, genuinely hoping to connect with her outside of this booth.

The question caught her completely off guard. She froze, her lips parting, but no real answer came out. Panic set in. "I... I have to go check on my friend," she stumbled out, grabbing her bag and quickly walking away, leaving Michael standing there thoroughly confused.

Michael finished fixing his clothes and straightened up the seating area. By the time he sat back down, every trace of what had just happened was gone.

The door opened, and Quincy walked into the quiet VIP lounge. Seeing the bewildered look on Michael's face, Quincy raised an eyebrow.

"What's up with you?" Quincy asked, looking around the pristine room. "Why do you look so confused?"

Michael slowly ran a hand through his loose curls, his large dark eyes fixed on the closed VIP door where Y/N had vanished. A gentle, lingering softness remained on his features, making him look completely tranquil, relaxed, and untouched by the chaotic energy of the night.

He leaned back against the plush leather seat, his posture easy and serene.

Quincy chuckled, leaning against the doorframe as he looked around the spotless room. "You look like you're a million miles away, man. What's going on in that head of yours?"

Michael blinked slowly, as if gently floating back into the room. A quiet, timid smile touched his lips—warm, reserved, and incredibly gentle.

"Oh... nothing," Michael murmured, his voice soft, high, and smooth as velvet. He brushed a stray curl from his forehead, looking up at Quincy with wide, innocent eyes. "Just... a girl."

Quincy raised an eyebrow, amused by the sudden, soft tone. "A girl?"

Michael looked back toward the doorway for a brief second, the memory of her wide eyes and silent words lingering in his mind. He swallowed hard, his smile turning a little shy as he looked down at his hands.

"Yeah," Michael whispered softly, a little breathless. "I think... I think I'm going to have to find her.

PART 2?

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Part 2 out now !!!!!

Thankyou for reading guys!!!

This was my first smut i really hope you enjoyed it!