pita

𝒜 few days ago, you decided it was finally time to get a part-time job.

Between college classes, studying, and trying to maintain some semblance of a social life, you didn't need anything too demanding. Still, having a little extra money in your pocket certainly wouldn't hurt.

You'd always been good with kids. Years of babysitting younger cousins had made looking after children feel almost second nature, so when you stumbled across an opening for a nanny position, it seemed like the perfect fit. Flexible hours, decent pay, and work you already knew you enjoyed. Simple.

Or so you thought.

The application itself had been straightforward enough, and you certainly hadn't expected a response so quickly. What you expected even less was the name attached to the acceptance email sitting in your inbox.

Michael Jackson.

You had stared at the screen for a solid minute before rereading it. Then another minute after that. Surely there had to be another Michael Jackson.

There wasn't.

Somehow, against all odds, you'd just been hired as the nanny for one of the most famous people on the planet.

You hadn't submitted some special application. You hadn't pulled strings or known somebody who knew somebody. You had simply applied for a nanny position because you needed a part-time job. And somehow, that had led here.

The days leading up to your first shift weren't much better. Every time you remembered where you'd be working, your stomach performed a small acrobatic routine. You spent an embarrassing amount of time debating what to wear, eventually settling on something professional but comfortable. The night before, you barely slept.

Every possible scenario ran through your mind. What if the children didn't like you? What if you accidentally broke something expensive? What if you got lost inside the house? What if Michael Jackson himself answered the door?

That last thought was ridiculous. Surely someone else would greet you.

Still, by the time the morning of your first day arrived, your nerves were stretched tighter than piano wire.

The drive to the estate was longer than you'd anticipated. The familiar suburban roads gradually gave way to winding streets lined with towering trees, the scenery growing quieter and more secluded with every mile.

By the time the massive iron gates appeared in front of you, your stomach had already begun twisting itself into knots. You were used to small apartments and campus coffee shops, not sprawling estates that looked like they belonged in a movie.

This was ridiculous.

When the car finally pulled up the long, gravel driveway, you found yourself staring up at the house in silence. It was beautiful, sure, but it was also intimidating. It was a place of quiet elegance and old money, a place where every blade of grass seemed perfectly in place.

Taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart, you grabbed your bag and stepped out of the car. It was just a job. That was all. You were here to look after three children, earn a paycheck, and hopefully not embarrass yourself in front of a global superstar.

Easy.

The lie sounded considerably less convincing the closer you got to the front door.

Before you could knock, the front door swung open. You instinctively straightened.

But instead of the superstar you'd seen plastered across magazine covers and television screens for years, you were greeted by a woman in a crisp professional uniform.

"You must be the new nanny," she said, stepping aside to usher you into the foyer. "Come in, please. Don't just stand there outside."

As you stepped inside, the first thing that hit you was the the scent of something expensive, like sandalwood and fresh lilies. The foyer was massive, with high ceilings and polished floors that made your footsteps echo. It was beautiful.

"I'm Martha," the woman said, leading you down a wide hallway. "I handle the household management here. The children are currently in the playroom, but Mr. Jackson is in the study. He'll want to greet you properly once you've had a moment to settle in and meet the little ones."

She led you toward a set of large, arched doors at the end of the hall. As you walked, you could hear the faint, muffled sound of laughter and high pitched voices coming from somewhere deeper in the house. It was a sharp, human contrast to the quiet elegance of the hallway.

"Prince, Paris, and Blanket," Martha continued, her voice softening just a fraction. "They can be a handful, especially Prince, but they're good children. Once you get to know them, you'll see."

She pushed open the playroom doors, and the sudden burst of energy nearly knocked you back. The room was bright, filled with sunlight and scattered toys, and there they were, three kids who were about to become your entire world in the months to come.

Martha smiled and stepped back, leaving you alone in the center of the playroom. "I'll go let Mr. Jackson know you've arrived. He'll be with you in a moment." With a polite nod, she disappeared back into the hallway, the heavy doors clicking shut behind her.

The sudden silence was short lived.

Three pairs of curious eyes locked onto you, their play momentarily forgotten. They were a lively, chaotic blur of motion and color, the room a minefield of toy blocks and stuffed animals.

Paris was the first to move. She approached you with a cautious but curious expression, her small hand gripping a drawing. "Are you really going to stay here with us?" she asked, holding the paper up for you to see. It was a colorful, abstract sketch of a cat, the lines bold and confident.

"I sure am," you said, kneeling down to her level. "And that's a really great drawing.”

"Thank you," she beamed, her face lighting up with pride.

Beside her, Prince stood with his arms crossed, looking you up and down with a skeptic expression. "Do you know how to play hide and seek?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I'm pretty good at it," you replied, offering them a small, genuine smile. "But I'm even better at finding people."

Blanket, the youngest, had already wandered over to you, tugging on the hem of your shirt and pointing toward a large pile of pillows in the corner. "Can we make a fort?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful.

Before you could answer, the sound of the door opening again drew your attention. You turned, and there he was.

Michael Jackson stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He wasn't wearing the flashy stage clothes you'd seen in photos; he wore simple black trousers and a loose white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His expression was calm, but as he looked at you, there was a flicker of curiosity in his dark eyes. He didn't speak right away; he just watched you, taking in the sight of you sitting on the floor with his children. Then he smiled.

"Well, that was fast," Michael said from the doorway. Prince immediately pointed at you. "She's good at hide and seek."

"I haven't even played yet," you laughed, not yet really registering that Michael Jackson was standing right there. "Yeah, but she said she's good at it," Prince argued.

Michael covered a smile with his hand. "That's all the proof you need?"

"Yep."

Then it clicked. You froze for a split second, your heart performing a frantic, uneven rhythm against your ribs. Holy shit, your brain screamed. It’s actually him. It’s really him.

Internally, you were spiraling.

The Michael Jackson you'd seen in magazines and on television had always felt larger than life, someone distant and untouchable. But standing here, in the middle of a playroom with three children arguing over fort-building materials, he suddenly felt very real.

And he was looking right at you.

A thousand ridiculous thoughts rushed through your head all at once. Was your hair a mess from the drive? Did you have something on your shirt? Why were your palms suddenly sweating?

Don't trip. Don't stutter. Don't make a fool of yourself.

You forced yourself to take a steady breath and pushed the panic aside. You weren't here as a fan. You were here to do a job. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were some starstruck girl who had wandered into his house by accident.

Rising to your feet, you smoothed your hands over your clothes and offered him a small smile. Hopefully it came across as polite and professional.

Hopefully it didn't reveal the fact that your heart was currently trying to beat its way out of your chest.

"Hello," you said, rising to your feet and offering him a small smile. "I'm [Name]. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Jackson."

For a moment, his gaze lingered on you. Not in an uncomfortable way—just long enough to suggest he was taking you in properly.

"The pleasure is mine," he replied warmly.

Before either of you could say anything else, Blanket tugged on your sleeve.

"We're building a fort," he announced.

A smile immediately spread across Michael's face.

"Are you now?"

Blanket nodded enthusiastically. "A huge one."

"[Name] said she'd help."

Michael's eyes flickered back to yours, amusement dancing in them.

"Well, sounds like you've already been recruited."

You laughed softly. "I didn't realize I'd be getting assigned duties within the first five minutes."

"Oh, they're very efficient around here," he said with a straight face.

Paris giggled.

"They've been very welcoming," you added. "Blanket was just pitching the fort idea before you came in."

"A fort sounds like a wonderful idea, Blanket," Michael said, stepping further into the room.

His entire demeanor seemed to soften as he approached his children. He reached down and ruffled Blanket's hair, earning an immediate grin from the little boy.

"But don't wear yourselves out too much, alright?" he continued, glancing between Prince and Paris. "You have a very busy day of playing tomorrow."

"Dad," Prince groaned dramatically.

"What?"

"We play every day."

"Exactly," Michael replied. "Which means you gotta pace yourselves."

The children immediately dissolved into protests, their complaints overlapping one another as they insisted they weren't tired in the slightest. Michael only laughed at their dramatic reactions, shaking his head fondly. There was something almost infectious about the warmth he carried around them. The way he looked at his children made it painfully obvious how much he adored them.

After a few moments, his attention drifted back to you.

"Since you'll be spending a lot of time here, why don't we take a quick tour?" he suggested. His voice was easy and inviting, never demanding. "I just want to make sure you know where everything is. It's a big house, and it can be pretty easy to get lost."

You couldn't help but glance down the seemingly endless hallway stretching before you. Judging by the size of the place alone, he was probably right.

"That would be lovely, thank you."

A small smile tugged at his lips before he motioned for you to follow. As the two of you left the playroom behind, the sounds of the children arguing over fort-building supplies gradually faded into the background.

The house was even more impressive once you saw it properly. Every hallway seemed to lead to another wing, every room larger than the last. Michael guided you through it all with quiet patience, pointing out the library, the dining room, various sitting areas, and the sprawling gardens visible through the tall windows. He never rushed through his explanations, occasionally glancing your way to make sure you were keeping up.

Despite your nerves, you found yourself slowly relaxing in his company.

As you approached the grand staircase, Michael's pace slowed until he eventually came to a stop. His expression shifted slightly, as though he had just remembered something important.

"There is one thing I'd like to ask you."

You turned your attention toward him immediately.

"My schedule can be a little unpredictable sometimes," he explained. "There are periods where rehearsals run late or work keeps me away from home longer than expected. On those occasions, would you be comfortable staying here overnight?"

For a moment, you blinked.

It wasn't an unreasonable request. In fact, considering the circumstances, it made perfect sense. Still, the responsibility behind it wasn't lost on you.

"You'd have your own guest room, of course," he added. "I just like knowing someone is here with the children when I can't be."

The concern in his voice was genuine.

"Oh," you said, offering him a reassuring smile. "Yeah, that's completely fine. I don't mind at all."

The visible relief that crossed his features made it seem as though he'd been more worried about your answer than he'd let on.

"That's good to hear," he replied softly. "Thank you."

For a brief moment, the conversation seemed finished. Michael started to continue down the hallway before hesitating. When he looked back at you, there was something almost shy in his expression.

"And please," he said after a small pause, "you don't have to call me Mr. Jackson."

Your eyebrows lifted slightly.

"I don't?" A quiet laugh escaped him. "No. It makes me feel a lot older than I actually am."

That finally earned a laugh from you.

"Alright then, Michael." Something about hearing his name from your lips seemed to brighten his smile.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Michael is fine."

Settling in with the Jackson family was easier than you ever could have anticipated. The children were delightful little things, and you quickly found yourself becoming a fixture in their daily lives.

You spent your afternoons in a blur of activity. The siblings were funny as a trio.

"Can we build a fort?" Blanket would ask.

"A giant one?" you would ask back.

"A giant one."

"With blankets?"

"Obviously."

Prince groaned dramatically. "He always wants a fort."

"Because forts are cool."

"No," Paris corrected. "Because you're five."

Or sitting quietly on the floor to help Paris with her coloring books, running around the gardens, playing endless games of hide and seek with Prince. They were a handful, sure, but they were sweet, and they made the massive house feel warm and alive.

And then there was Michael.

Being around Michael quickly became one of the easiest parts of your day. Despite everything he was—the fame, the success, the larger-than-life reputation—he never made you feel intimidated. He was unfailingly kind and respectful, always mindful of your space and never overstepping, yet there was a warmth about him that drew people in without him even trying.

Before long, you found yourself looking forward to the quiet moments you happened to share.

Sometimes it was a brief conversation in the kitchen while you prepared snacks for the children. Other times, you'd run into him late in the evening after finally getting the kids settled for bed, only for a quick greeting to turn into a twenty-minute conversation.

The topics themselves were rarely anything extraordinary. You'd tell him about a book you'd been reading, a class you hoped to take in college, or some funny thing one of the children had said earlier that day. In return, he'd share stories from his travels, his work, or whatever happened to be on his mind.

What surprised you most was how attentively he listened.

Most people listened just enough to respond. Michael listened because he genuinely wanted to hear what you had to say. He remembered little details from previous conversations, asked thoughtful questions, and somehow always made you feel as though whatever you were talking about was the most interesting thing in the world.

It was a small thing, really.

But there was something comforting about the way his eyes softened whenever you spoke, as if he was completely present in the moment and nowhere else he'd rather be.

Then, as expected, first crack in your composure appeared.

It was a warm afternoon, and you were wearing a simple, light sundress, something easy and comfortable. As you were walking past the library, Michael stepped out, catching your eye. He paused, his gaze lingering for just a second.

"That color really suits you," he said softly, a small, appreciative smile playing on his lips. "It compliments you beautifully."

You smiled bashfully and looked down at your dress. "This old thing?"

At that he frowned, and countered, "No, don't do that."

Now you looked at him with a slightly confused expression, "Do what?"

"The thing where somebody compliments you and you immediately insult yourself." You blinked. "I'm serious," he continued. "You look nice. Just say thank you."

A reluctant smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you."

"There. See? Much easier."

Later that night, you finally made it home.

The apartment greeted you with the familiar smell of takeout containers and the faint glow of the television illuminating the living room. Your boyfriend was exactly where you expected him to be, stretched across the couch with his phone in hand.

"Hey," you greeted, kicking off your shoes near the door.

"Hey, babe."

You set your bag down and wandered into the kitchen for a glass of water.

"Today was actually pretty good," you said. "The kids were adorable. Prince tried helping me with the laundry." A small chuckle escaped you at the memory.

"He ended up folding everything into little squares. It was sweet, but I had to redo half of it."

"Mhm."

You glanced toward the living room. His eyes never left his phone. Still, you continued.

"Blanket spent most of the afternoon trying to convince everyone to build a blanket fort. Apparently it was a matter of national importance." That earned a brief laugh.

"Sounds about right." You smiled faintly and leaned against the kitchen counter.

The conversation stalled. For a moment, all you could hear was the soft clicking of his thumb against the screen and the distant noise of the television.

"It's strange," you found yourself saying. "That house." This finally seemed to get a little more of his attention. "What about it?"

"I don't know." You shrugged. "It's just... different."

"Different how?"

You searched for the right words. "Lively, I guess. There's always something going on. Even when everything's quiet, it never really feels empty." He nodded absentmindedly. "Michael was showing me around today, and somehow we ended up talking about my classes for like twenty minutes."

"That's nice." His response came automatically. The kind of response people give when they're listening just enough to be polite. You looked down at your glass.

"Yeah."

Silence settled between you again. You hated how disappointed that made you feel. Not because he'd said anything wrong. He hadn't. He wasn't being cruel or rude. He wasn't starting a fight. He wasn't even ignoring you entirely.

But while you were standing here trying to tell him about your day, it felt as though his attention was somewhere else entirely. A few months ago, he would've asked questions. Now, it felt like he was simply waiting for the conversation to end.

"Anyway," you said quietly, forcing a smile. "I think I'm gonna take a shower."

"Okay, babe." His eyes never left the screen. As you turned toward the hallway, an uncomfortable feeling settled in your chest.

For the first time, you found yourself comparing the way people listened to you. And that thought bothered you more than you wanted to admit.

A few days later, you were babysitting for Michael again. In the kitchen, you reached for a glass on a high shelf when you felt him step in behind you.

“Need a hand with that?” Michael’s voice was low, just beside your ear.

“Oh! No, I’ve almost got it,” you said, stretching your fingers toward the rim of the glass.

Before you could grab it, his arm lifted past yours, brushing lightly against you as he took it down with ease. When he handed it over, he didn’t immediately let go. His fingers lingered against yours, his thumb tracing a slow, absent motion across the back of your hand—far too deliberate to feel accidental.

The air in the kitchen seemed to shift, suddenly heavier. You froze, your breath catching as you looked up at him. He was already watching you. His gaze held yours, steady and searching, like he was waiting for something.

His hand stayed there a moment longer, warm against yours, before he finally let go.

“There you go,” he said with a small smile.

There was no explanation for it.

Or at least none that you were willing to give yourself.

After that afternoon in the kitchen, neither of you ever mentioned what had happened. Michael continued on as though everything was perfectly normal. He was still polite, still thoughtful, still the same gentle man you'd come to know over the past few weeks. If anything, he seemed even more careful around you.

And yet, despite the lack of words, something had shifted.

You began noticing it in the smallest moments. A hand brushing yours when he passed you a plate during dinner. Fingers lingering against your palm for a second longer than necessary when he handed you a book or a cup of coffee. Nothing inappropriate. Nothing you could point to and confidently call intentional.

Just enough to leave you wondering.

The looks were somehow worse.

More than once, you'd glance up from whatever you were doing only to find his eyes already on you. Sometimes from across the room while the children played. Other times from the doorway of the kitchen while you prepared snacks. He never stared for long. The moment your eyes met, a small smile would tug at his lips before he looked away again and continued whatever he had been doing.

It should have been harmless. Maybe it was harmless, but you found yourself thinking about it anyway.

The problem was that Michael noticed things.

He noticed when you were tired. He noticed when you seemed stressed after class. He remembered small details from conversations you'd had weeks ago and somehow always knew exactly what questions to ask.

It was such a simple thing, and yet it felt surprisingly rare. Your boyfriend used to be like that, at least, you thought he used to be.

Lately, your conversations had become shorter and shorter. Calls went unanswered. Messages sat unopened for hours. When he did respond, it often felt like he was only half paying attention, his mind somewhere else entirely.

At first you told yourself it was just a rough patch. Everyone got busy. Everyone got distracted.

But the excuses became harder to make when days started passing without a single meaningful conversation. The contrast was impossible to ignore.

You hated yourself a little for noticing it.

Every time Michael remembered something you'd mentioned in passing. Every time he asked how an exam had gone. Every time he stopped what he was doing just to genuinely listen to your answer.

You weren't looking for reasons to compare them, they just kept presenting themselves. And the more they did, the more unsettled you became, because somewhere along the way, those lingering touches had stopped surprising you. And that realization was far more dangerous than any accidental brush of hands could ever be.

Once again, you fell into the comfortable rhythm you came to appreciate over the last few months. After dinner came baths, pajamas, and the endless negotiations that accompanied bedtime.

"One story," you told Blanket firmly as you tucked him beneath the covers.

"Three."

"One."

"Two."

You narrowed your eyes. He narrowed his right back.

"One."

Blanket sighed dramatically, as though you'd personally ruined his entire week.

"Fine."

Across the room, Paris giggled into her pillow.

Prince looked up from the book in his lap. "You know he does this every night, right?"

"I've noticed."

"And it works every time."

"It does not."

"It kinda does," Paris corrected. You gasped in mock offense. The children dissolved into laughter, the sound warming something in your chest.

You'd only been with the family for a couple of months, but moments like this had already become familiar. Comfortable. Easy.

By the time the final story had been read and the last glass of water delivered, the children had begun drifting off one by one. Paris was the first. Prince fought sleep with admirable determination before eventually losing the battle.

Blanket lasted longest of all, "You'll be here tomorrow, right?" he mumbled sleepily. You smiled.

"Of course."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Satisfied, he finally closed his eyes. The room fell quiet.

For a few moments, you simply sat there, listening to the soft hum of the air conditioning and the steady rhythm of three sleeping children. Then your eyes drifted toward the clock.

10:47 PM.

Michael had called earlier that afternoon to explain that rehearsals were running late. He'd likely be gone most of the night.

Which meant you'd be staying over.

You quietly slipped from the room, careful not to wake anyone, and made your way downstairs.

The house felt entirely different at night.

The laughter and noise that usually filled it had faded away, leaving only silence behind. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, casting pale ribbons of silver across the polished floors. You wandered into the living room and sank onto one of the couches.

Almost immediately, your eyes flickered toward the telephone sitting on the side table. Nothing. No missed calls. No messages. No voicemail. Your stomach sank.

Again.

You'd spoken to your boyfriend for less than ten minutes over the past three days. At first you'd made excuses. He was busy. Work was stressful. Life happened.

But lately it felt as though every conversation had become an obligation. Something to get through. Not something either of you actually looked forward to anymore.

You stared at the phone for another moment before reaching for it. Maybe he'd just forgotten, or got distracted. Maybe—

The line rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Eventually he picked up.

"Hey." No enthusiasm. No warmth.

Just... hey.

"Hi." A pause. "What's up?" You swallowed.

"I was just calling."

"Okay."

The silence stretched. You found yourself gripping the receiver tighter. "I haven't heard from you all day." Another pause.

"Yeah. I've been busy." Something sharp twisted in your chest.

You've been busy for three days." A sigh crackled through the line.

"[Name]..."

"No, seriously." You leaned forward, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm not asking for a three-hour conversation. I'm asking for a phone call."

"I texted you."

"You sent me two words."

"It still counts." A humorless laugh escaped you. "Wow."

"What?"

"You really think that's the same thing?" His own patience seemed to snap. "Why are we even arguing about this?"

"Because I'm tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Tired of feeling like I'm bothering you every time I want to talk to my own boyfriend." Silence. Then another sigh. Louder this time, more irritated. "You're blowing this way out of proportion."

Your eyes squeezed shut. There it was.

Every single time.

Any time you tried talking about something that upset you, somehow you became the problem. "I'm not blowing it out of proportion."

"You are."

"No, I'm telling you how I feel."

"And I'm telling you that you're overthinking everything." The words hit harder than they should have. Because part of you already knew they weren't true.

You weren't overthinking, you were lonely. And somehow that felt worse. "You know what?" you said quietly.

"What?"

"Forget it."

"[Name]—"

"No." Your voice cracked slightly. "I don't want to do this right now." Before he could answer, you hung up, the click echoed through the empty room.

For a long moment, you simply sat there staring at the receiver in your hand. The silence that followed felt deafening. Slowly, you set the phone back onto its cradle.

You told yourself not to cry. You were too old to cry over a stupid phone call. Too old to cry over a relationship that had clearly been falling apart for months.

And yet the first tear slipped down your cheek anyway. Then another. You quickly wiped them away, but more followed.

Soon your vision blurred completely. You curled slightly into yourself on the couch, pressing the heel of your palm against your eyes as quiet sobs shook your shoulders.

The massive house around you remained silent. No television, no laughter, no conversation. Just you.

And the overwhelming realization that somewhere along the way, you'd stopped feeling loved. That was what hurt the most.

You didn't hear the front door open, and you also didn't hear the quiet footsteps crossing the foyer. You didn't hear anything at all.

The argument kept replaying in your head, each word feeling worse now that the anger had worn off. Your chest hurt. Your eyes burned. No matter how many times you wiped at your face, fresh tears kept slipping free.

You were so caught up in your misery that you nearly jumped when a familiar voice spoke.

"[Name]?" Your head snapped up.

Michael stood at the entrance of the living room. He looked tired from a long day, dark, smooth hair slightly disheveled and the sleeves of his shirt rolled to his forearms.

The moment his eyes landed on your tear-streaked face, his entire expression changed. Concern immediately replaced whatever exhaustion he'd been carrying.

"What happened?" You quickly looked away. "Nothing." The answer came too fast. Too automatic.

Michael's eyebrows drew together. "[Name]."

The simple way he said your name almost made you cry harder. You laughed weakly through your tears. "I'm okay."

"No, you're not."

His voice was gentle. Not accusing. Not demanding. Just concerned.

He crossed the room and sat down beside you, leaving enough space that you wouldn't feel crowded. For a few moments, neither of you spoke.

The silence wasn't uncomfortable, it was patient, like he was willing to wait as long as you needed. Eventually, you let out a shaky breath.

"We had a fight." His expression softened in understanding. "Your boyfriend?"

You nodded. Michael remained quiet, allowing you to continue at your own pace. And somehow that made everything spill out.

All the missed phone calls, all the unanswered texts, and the way every conversation felt forced lately.

The feeling that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to reach him anymore. You hated how emotional you sounded. Hated how pathetic it all felt once spoken aloud.

But Michael never interrupted, just quietly let you rant. He listened.

By the time you finished, tears were rolling freely down your cheeks again. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then his hand carefully settled over yours. The gesture was small, steady and comforting.

And somehow it undid you completely. His thumb brushed lightly across your knuckles.

"You've been carrying that by yourself?" You looked down.

"I guess." His jaw tightened.

Not in anger toward you. In anger for you. What imbecile treats his lady that way?

Slowly, he reached up and brushed a tear from your cheek. The touch was so gentle it almost hurt. "Hey," he said quietly. Your eyes lifted to his. The sadness in his expression caught you off guard.

As though seeing you like this genuinely upset him. "You don't deserve that." Fresh tears immediately filled your eyes. You looked away. But Michael simply shook his head. "No." His voice was soft but firm. "You don't."

Another tear slipped free. Without thinking, his hand rose to your cheek again. This time he didn't pull away immediately.

"Sweetheart..." The word slipped out naturally. As though he couldn't stand seeing you cry. As though every protective instinct in him had suddenly come alive.

Your breath caught. "You deserve someone who listens when you speak." His thumb gently brushed beneath your eye. "You deserve someone who makes time for you." Your lower lip trembled. "You deserve to feel loved."

That was what broke you.

Because somewhere deep down, you'd started wondering if maybe expecting those things was asking too much.

And hearing someone tell you otherwise felt like having a weight lifted from your chest. "Oh, [Name]..." Michael murmured when another sob escaped you. This time you didn't fight it.

You leaned toward him instinctively. Seeking comfort and warmth.

Seeking something solid to hold onto. The moment you did, Michael wrapped his arms around you in a soothing embrace without hesitation.

His hand settled between your shoulder blades as he pulled you gently against his side. "It's okay," he whispered.

The tears came harder. And Michael held you through every single one.

His hand moved slowly up and down your back, soothing and steady.

"It's okay," he whispered again, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear. He didn't pull away. If anything, his hold tightened slightly, one hand moving slowly up and down your back as though he could somehow soothe away all the hurt that had built up inside you. The steady rhythm of it was comforting, grounding. For the first time all evening, you didn't feel alone.

Eventually, Michael pulled back just enough to look at you properly. His hands rose to your face, carefully cradling your cheeks as though you were something precious. His thumbs swept beneath your eyes, brushing away the tears that continued to slip free despite your best efforts to stop them.

"Hey," he murmured softly. You kept your gaze lowered. "Sweetheart."

The endearment was so gentle that it made your chest ache.

"Look at me." Reluctantly, your eyes lifted to meet his. The sadness in his expression nearly broke your heart. No pity, just genuine concern.

Michael's gaze searched your face for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh. "A girl like you should never have to beg for someone's attention." A fresh tear slipped down your cheek.

His thumb caught it before it could fall.

"You know what I see almost every day?" he continued softly. "I see someone who gives so much of herself to everyone around her. I see how you sit with Paris when she wants to show you every drawing she's made that week. I see how patient you are when Prince asks a hundred questions at once. I see the way Blanket lights up the second you walk into a room."

Your lower lip trembled. Michael smiled sadly. "And somehow you convinced yourself that asking for a phone call is asking too much?"

You looked away. Because hearing it out loud made it sound ridiculous. His hand gently guided your face back toward him.

"No." His voice was quiet, but firm. "It isn't."

The room fell silent for a moment.

"You make people feel cared for," he continued, his gaze never leaving yours. "You make this house feel warmer. The kids adore you. Martha adores you. Lord knows Bill won't stop talking about how good you are for 'em."

A weak laugh escaped through your tears. Michael's smile softened. "See?"

His thumb brushed across your cheek again.

"You're so busy makin' sure everyone else feel loved that you forgot you're supposed to receive that same love in return."

The tears came harder then, because for the first time in weeks, someone was saying exactly what you needed to hear.

Michael watched you quietly for a moment before his expression softened even further.

"You're a wonderful, smart girl, angel." The nickname slipped out so naturally it didn't even seem intentional.

His words felt like honey, smoothing over the rough edges of your soul. You felt yourself melting, the frustration of the fight with your boyfriend slowly dissolving.

It was the kind of praise you hadn't realized you were starving for. Under his gaze, you didn't feel like a mess; you felt seen.

You looked up at him through your wet eyelashes, and he gazed right back at you. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on your lips before drifting back to your eyes, and your heart began to race for a completely different reason. The silence that followed was charged. The air between you felt sensual, electric, and sweet.

"It's okay," he whispered again, his voice a low, soothing rumble against your ear. He didn't pull away; instead, he tightened his hold just a fraction, as if he could physically shield you from the heartache of the last few hours.

He eventually pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands moving from your back to gently cup your face. His thumbs traced the line of your cheekbones, catching the last few stray tears with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

"Look at me," he murmured, his eyes searching yours. "A girl like you... someone so smart, so incredibly kind... you should never have to feel like you're a burden just for wantin' some love"

You let out a shaky, uneven breath, your eyes fluttering shut for a second as you leaned into his warmth. The heat from his palms felt so good against your skin, a stark contrast to the cold, lonely feeling that had been sitting in your chest all night.

"You have this way of making everything around you better," he continued, his voice dropping to a soft, melodic hush. He wasn't trying to win an argument or make a point; he was just talking to you, really seeing you. "The way you handle the kids, the way you just... exist in a room. You're so bright, angel. A girl as beautiful and special as you should be celebrated every single day. You should be someone's entire world, not an afterthought."

His words felt like honey, smoothing over the jagged edges of your soul. You felt yourself melting, the frustration of the fight with your boyfriend dissolving into a hazy, warm blur. It was the kind of praise you hadn't realized you were starving for. Under his gaze, you didn't feel like a mess; you felt precious. Like something rare that needed to be handled with care.

The air between you has changed into something that almost feels intimate.

You stared up at him, mesmerized by the way the moonlight caught the warmth in his eyes. You noticed the way his gaze lingered on your lips before drifting back to your eyes, and your heart began to race for a completely different reason.

The need to close the gap, to stop the thinking and just feel, became overwhelming.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in. It wasn't a tentative movement; it was a desperate, hungry surge. Your hand flew up, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck and cupping the side of his face as you pressed your lips to his.

The kiss was passionate, fueled by the raw emotion of the night and the intoxicating sweetness of his words.

You expected him to be surprised, to pull back in shock, but Michael didn't hesitate for a single second. Instead, he let out a low, muffled sound deep in his throat and melted into you. His large hand slid from your cheek to wrap firmly around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so there was no space left between you. His other hand moved to your chin, his fingers gripping you firmly to tilt your head back and deepen the contact.

He kissed you back with a sudden, fierce hunger that made your head spin. He tasted like warmth and comfort, and for a moment, the world outside the living room simply ceased to exist.

Finally, you pulled back just an inch, your breath coming in ragged, frantic gasps. Your face was flushed, your heart hammering against your ribs. The reality of what you'd just done crashed down on you, making you feel breathless and exposed.

"Oh god, Michael, I'm so sorry," you stammered, your eyes wide and frantic as you tried to find your footing. "That was the emotions, I just I didn't mean to "

"Shh," he commanded softly, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Before you could finish your clumsy apology, he leaned in again, his mouth catching yours and silencing your words with a kiss.

This kiss wasn't like the first one. It was deep, heavy, and felt like it was pulling the very air out of your lungs.

Michael didn't just kiss you; he claimed you. His mouth was firm and demanding, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that made your toes curl and a soft, involuntary moan catch in your throat. Every time you tried to catch your breath, he seemed to find a way to steal it again.

His hand on your waist tightened, his fingers digging slightly into your skin through your clothes, pulling you so close that you could feel the frantic thud of his heart against your own.

You felt a little lightheaded, your senses narrowed down to just the taste of him, the scent of his skin, and the incredible, solid weight of his body against yours.

The sadness from earlier the loneliness, the frustration, the feeling of being "too much" it all felt miles away. In this moment, with his hands on you and his lips on yours, you felt exactly like the girl he had just described: someone worth wanting. Someone worth holding.

He pulled back just a fraction, his forehead resting against yours. Both of you were breathing hard, your chests heaving in unison. In the dim moonlight, his eyes looked dark, almost predatory, but the warmth behind them was still there.

"Don't apologize," he whispered, his voice sounding rougher than before, a low rasp that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "Never apologize for wating this."

His thumb traced your bottom lip, which was now swollen from his kiss. The way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered made your stomach flip.

He didn't wait for you to respond. He moved his hand from your chin, his fingers sliding into your hair, gripping the strands just enough to tilt your head back again. He leaned down, but instead of going for your lips, he trailed a path of slow, searing kisses down the side of your neck.

A small gasp escaped you as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear. You instinctively arched your neck, giving him better access, your hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt as if you were afraid he might disappear if you let go.

"Michael..." you breathed, his name a soft plea you didn't even realize you were making.

"I got you," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "Just let go, angel. Just let go."

He moved back up, his lips grazing your jawline before finally finding your mouth again. This time, the kiss was slower, more languid, but no less intense.

It was a slow burn, a deep, intoxicating exploration that made you feel like you were melting into the couch, into him.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy with a hunger that made your knees weak. He didn't look like the gentle, comforting man who had been holding you through your tears anymore. There was a new edge to him, a quiet strength that felt almost overwhelming.

"You spent so much time feeling like you're too much," he murmured, his voice dropping to a deep, gravelly rasp. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke. "Let me show you how a man properly loves on his girl."

The sheer confidence in his voice sent a jolt of electricity straight to your pussy. Before you could even process the words, his hands slid from your waist over your ass and down to your thighs. With one smooth, powerful motion, he hoisted you up.

You let out a tiny, startled squeak, your hands instinctively flying to his shoulders to steady yourself. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even tighter against you. He was so solid, stronger than he looked, and the sudden change in height made your head spin in the best possible way.

He didn't say a word as he began to carry you, his stride steady and sure as he moved away from the living room and toward the grand staircase.

He wasn't rushing, though. He was taking his time. As he walked, he leaned down, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips soft and sweet. Then, he trailed his mouth down to your cheek in a way that made you shiver.

"Michael," you whispered, your voice quiet and breathless, your fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I got you, sweetheart" he promised, his voice a low vibration you could feel against your chest.

He shifted his grip, his hand sliding up to the back of your thigh to hold you securely against him, while his other hand stayed firmly on your waist.

As he reached the landing, he leaned in again, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. He pressed a series of soft, warm kisses there, his breath hot against your skin, making you arch your back and bury your face in the crook of his neck as he made his way to his bedroom.

The bedroom door shut with a soft thud, leaving the rest of the house feeling miles away. The room was quiet, lit mostly by the moonlight coming through the window, making everything feel calm and private.

Michael didn't just drop you on the bed; he lowered you onto the mattress slowly, staying right there with you. As you settled into the blankets, you felt a little flustered, a shy smile tugging at your lips. You were definitely blushing, but you didn't try to hide it you actually found yourself leaning closer to him, wanting to be in his space.

Michael was smiling too. It wasn't some intense, brooding look; it was just a warm, genuine smile that made him look incredibly handsome.

He leaned down, giving you a quick, sweet kiss before pulling back just an inch. His eyes were roaming over your face, taking you in.

"You have no idea," he said, his voice low and casual, "How hard it's been to actually act normal around you."

You let out a little embarrassed laugh, looking down at the duvet for a second, but he reached out and gently nudged your chin so you’d look at him again.

"Seriously," he continued, his gaze dropping to your shoulders before meeting your eyes again. "Every time you were here helping with the kids, watching you laugh or just seeing you move around the room... it was driving me crazy. I'd be trying to talk to someone else, but I'd just be thinking about you."

He shifted a bit closer, his hand sliding down to rest on your waist. His touch was warm and steady.

"And you're so damn beautiful," he added, his voice dropping a bit. He wasn't being dramatic; he was just telling you the truth. "I've been staring at you for weeks, just wondering when I'd finally get a chance to be this close to you."

A nervous, happy sort of flutter went through your stomach. You felt a little shy under all that attention, but it felt good. It felt right.

He leaned in, kissing your cheek and then your temple, his voice a constant, low murmur of praise. "I've wanted this since the first day you walked in here," he admitted, his lips brushing against your ear. "Just to have you all to myself like this."

He didn't stop there. His hand, which had been resting on your waist, started to wander, his palm sliding up under the hem of your shirt. The contact of his warm skin against your stomach made you catch your breath, a small, shaky sound that he answered with a low, appreciative hum.

"You're so soft," he murmured, his thumb tracing the curve of your hip as he pulled your shirt up just a little further.

The shyness was still there, making you feel a little breathless, but as he leaned down to kiss the hollow of your throat, you found yourself reaching for him. Your hands slid under his shirt, your palms pressing against his back.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a low, rough rasp. It wasn't a timid question; he could tell you wanted him, but he was still being the man he promised to be the one who took care of you.

He moved his hands to the waistband of your pants, his fingers grazing the skin of your hips. He paused for a second, his eyes locking onto yours, checking in.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice sounding a little more strained than before. "I've been thinking about this... about you... for so long."

He slid your clothes down, his movements slow and deliberate, making sure you were comfortable every step of the way. As you lay there, feeling the cool air hit your skin, a sudden wave of nerves hit you. You felt exposed, and as he shifted, moving his body down the bed, your heart started to hammer against your ribs.

You'd seen it in movies, sure, but the idea of him actually being down there... it felt a lot more intense in person.

"Michael?" you breathed, your voice a little shaky. You reached out, your fingers curling into the sheets. "Is... is it okay if we just... slow down a little?"

He stopped immediately, propping himself up on his elbows so he could look at you. He didn't look frustrated or impatient; he just looked incredibly focused on you.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a warm, grounding weight. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

"It's just..." You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. "I've never really... had a guy do that. You know? Like...eat me out. It's just a little intimidating."

A slow, incredibly sweet smile spread across his face. He reached up, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek.

"Intimidating?" he teased gently, though his eyes were dark with a hunger that was hard to miss. "Angel, there's nothing to be nervous about. It's just me. And trust me, there ain't nothin' in the world I want more right now than to taste you."

He leaned down, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to your stomach, just above the line of your panties. You let out a tiny, startled gasp, your hips giving a small, involuntary twitch. You were so wet, you were sure that a wet patch has formed on your panties already.

"Been dreamin' about how you taste since the first time you sat on my sofa," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. "I wanna take my time with you. gonna make sure you feel every single thing. Does that sound good?"

You looked down at him, seeing the genuine yearning in his expression. He genuinely wanted to taste your pussy so bad. The hesitation was still there, but it was being drowned out by the sheer heat of his gaze.

"Yeah," you whispered, a small, shy smile returning to your lips. "That sounds really good."

He didn't move away once you gave him the green light. Instead, he moved with a quiet, predatory grace, sliding down the length of your body until he was positioned between your thighs. The heat radiating from him was a physical weight, making your skin prickle with anticipation.

As he hooked his fingers into the elastic of your panties, his eyes never left yours for a second. He peeled the fabric down your legs with a slow, agonizing deliberation, leaving you completely bare and trembling under his gaze. The cool air of the room hit your damp skin, but you felt like you were burning from the inside out.

Then, he leaned in.

The first touch of his tongue wasn't tentative. It wasn't a light, polite graze. It was a heavy, soaking swipe that started at the very base of your mound and dragged all the way up to your clit.

A loud, unbidden moan tore from your throat, your back arching off the mattress as the sheer, wet friction sent a jolt of electricity straight to your core. You expected him to be careful, to be "gentle" in the way he always was, but the Michael looking up at you now was different. His eyes were hooded, dark, and glazed with a raw, unadulterated lust that made your stomach flip.

He didn't just want to taste you; he wanted to devour you.

He leaned back in, his face disappearing between your thighs. The sound of his mouth against your wet, swollen folds was loud and unapologetic, a heavy, rhythmic slap of skin on skin that made your toes curl into the sheets.

"Oh god, Michael..." you gasped, your head thrashing against the pillow.

"I've got you, pretty baby," he murmured, his voice vibrating against your most sensitive skin. He pulled back just for a second, his lips glistening, his eyes dark and blown out with pure, unadulterated lust. "You're so wet for me. You're so slick, angel. Just look at you... you're a beautiful, soaking mess."

He didn't wait for a response before he dived back in, his tongue working with a frantic, desperate hunger. He was lapping up every drop of your nectar, his tongue swirling deep into your slit, catching the heavy, syrupy flow of your arousal. He was being so thorough, so goddamn greedy, that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with the wetness of your own juices.

"That's it, sweet baby," he groaned, the sound muffled by your pussy. His thumb began to grind in heavy, punishing circles against your clit.

The sensation was too much. It was too much, and yet, you were begging for more, your fingers knotting into the bedsheets until your knuckles turned white. Every time his tongue swiped upward, catching the sensitive peak of your clit, a fresh wave of heat crashed over you, making your vision blur. He wasn't being the gentle, careful Michael you knew in the daylight; he was a man possessed, a man driven by a hunger that seemed bottomless.

"Michael... oh, god, Michael..." you sobbed, your hips jerking upward, trying to meet the relentless pressure of his tongue and the heavy, rhythmic grind of his thumb.

"That's it, angel... just like that," he murmured, his voice a dark, vibrating hum against your swollen folds. He pulled back just enough to let the cool air hit your dripping heat, only to dive back in with a sudden, forceful suction that made your entire body seize. "You're so loud for me, baby... so beautiful when you're losing control."

He was being so greedy, so unapologetically thorough, that you felt like you were drowning in the sensation of him. The wet, slapping sounds of his mouth against you were the only thing you could hear, drowning out the quiet hum of the house around you. He was lapping at you, tasting every drop of your arousal as if it were the most precious thing he’d ever encountered, his breath hot and frantic against your inner thighs.

"Please... Michael, please, I'm gonna—" Your voice broke, a high, keening whine escaping your throat as the tension in your lower belly tightened into a hard, pulsing knot.

"Gonna what, sweetheart? Gonna come for me?" He teased, his voice thick with lust, before he increased the pace. His tongue became a frantic, swirling blur against your clit, while his thumb applied a heavy, punishing pressure that sent jolts of pure electricity straight to your brain. "Let it go, baby. Give it all to me. Show me how much you want it..."

You couldn't hold back anymore. The world fractured. Your back arched violently off the mattress, your toes curling as the first wave of your orgasm crashed through you. It was a violent, beautiful explosion of pleasure, your internal muscles clamping down hard and pulsing around the empty space where his mouth was, desperate to hold onto the sensation.

"Oh! Oh, god!" you screamed, your head thrashing from side to side as you came, the sheer intensity of it leaving you breathless and trembling.

Michael didn't pull away. He stayed right there, drinking you in, his tongue continuing to swirl in slow, soothing circles to catch the aftershocks, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you steady through the tremors. He let out a low, guttural groan of satisfaction, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he watched you unravel beneath him.

"Mm, so sweet..." he whispered, his lips and chin glistening as he finally looked up at you, his eyes dark, blown out, and completely undone by the sight of your messy, beautiful climax. "You taste like heaven, baby. Just heaven."

The aftershocks were still rippling through you, leaving your skin hypersensitive and your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches. Michael didn't move away immediately; instead, he lingered, his lips pressing soft, reverent kisses to the inside of your thighs, his hands roaming over the lush curves of your hips. He looked up at you, and the sheer worship in his eyes made your heart ache. He didn't just want you; he was in awe of you.

"Look at you," he breathed, his voice a low, reverent rasp. He reached out, his palms sliding up the soft, generous swell of your hips, his fingers sinking slightly into your skin. "So soft... so perfect. Every inch of you is a miracle, angel."

He moved up the bed, his body a heavy, warm weight as he hovered over you. He didn't rush. He took a moment to just look at you, his gaze tracing the curve of your waist, the fullness of your breasts, and the way your thighs spilled beautifully against the sheets. To him, you weren't just a woman; you were a masterpiece of soft lines and delicious weight.

"You're so beautiful, pretty baby," he murmured, leaning down to press a slow, lingering kiss to the swell of your hip, his mouth trailing upward. "Could spend a lifetime just exploring you. Just worshiping you."

He captured one of your breasts in his hand, his thumb grazing the peak as he leaned in to take the swollen bud into his mouth. He sucked deeply, a low groan vibrating in his throat, while his other hand slid down to find where you were still slick and pulsing from your climax.

The friction of his hand against your wetness, paired with the heavy, insistent pull of his mouth on your breast, sent a new wave of heat crashing through you. You reached for him, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing the friction, needing the weight of him to fill the emptiness.

"Michael... please," you whimpered, your hips tilting upward in a silent plea. "I need you. I need to feel you."

"I know, baby. I know," he whispered against your skin, his breath hot and frantic. He pulled back just enough to strip away the last of his own clothes, and when he pressed himself against you, the sheer, veiny heat of him made you gasp. He was massive, a heavy, pulsing weight that promised to stretch you to your absolute limit.

He guided himself to your entrance, the head of his cock smearing your own nectar across your opening. He paused there, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that felt like it was stripping your soul bare.

"Tell me you want it," he commanded softly, his voice thick with a desperate kind of hunger. "Tell me you want me to fill you up, sweetheart."

"Please," you choked out, your legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush against your soft curves. "Fuck, Michael, please... fill me up. All of you."

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he began to sink into you. He didn't slam in; he moved with a heavy, agonizing patience, letting your walls stretch and accommodate his girth. You felt every inch of him, the way he filled you so completely that it felt like he was touching your very core. You let out a long, broken moan, your head falling back as your body yielded to the delicious intrusion.

"Mm, so wet... so fucking perfect," he grunted, his muscles corded and tense as he bottomed out. He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, his chest heaving against yours, letting you adjust to the sheer fullness of him. He began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before driving back in with a heavy, rhythmic force that made the bed creak beneath you.

The sensation was overwhelming. It wasn't just the friction; it was the way his body interacted with yours the way his hard, lean frame contrasted against the soft, yielding curves of your hips and thighs. Every time he slammed home, his hips hitting yours with a wet, heavy thwack, you felt the impact in your entire soul.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent. He reached down, his large hand splaying across your stomach before sliding lower to cup the underside of your ass, lifting you slightly to meet his every lunge. "I love how you feel around me... so warm, so wet... like you were made just for this."

He was relentless. He drove into you with a primal, driving rhythm, his hips snapping forward to ensure he hit your sweet spot with every single stroke. You were lost in it the sound of your skin slapping together, the scent of your shared arousal, and the overwhelming, heavy sensation of him plowing through you.

"Oh, god, Michael—" you cried out, your hands roaming wildly over his back. You were being driven to the brink again, the friction of his cock against your internal walls sending sparks of white hot pleasure through your nervous system.

"That's it, baby... take it all," he urged, his voice a guttural growl near your ear. He was pushing you harder, his thrusts becoming frantic and shallow as he neared his own limit, his breath coming in harsh, jagged gasps. "Give it to me, angel... let me see you come again..."

The world finally stopped spinning, the frantic rhythm of his hips slowing into a heavy, pulsing ache that settled deep in your bones. As the peak of your climax began to recede, leaving you limp and trembling, Michael followed you over the edge. He let out a long, strangled groan, his body tensing violently as he buried himself as deep as he could possibly go, his entire frame shuddering with the force of his release.

He didn't pull out. Instead, he collapsed against you, his chest heaving in sync with yours, his sweat slicked skin clinging to yours in the most delicious, heavy way. He stayed buried deep inside you, the sensation of his hot, pulsing length filling you up as he slowly began to settle.

"Mm... oh, baby," he breathed, his voice little more than a broken whisper against the crook of your neck. He didn't move to separate; he just held you, his weight a comforting, grounding presence that made you feel safe and cherished in the wake of the storm.

He began to move, but it wasn't the frantic, hungry driving from before. It was slow, so agonizingly slow that every tiny, infinitesimal twitch of his cock inside you felt like a caress. He was just... existing within you, letting the sensation of being joined sink in. He nudged his hips in a tiny, rhythmic circle, a gentle friction that sent soft, warm ripples of pleasure through your sensitized walls.

"You're so warm," he murmured, his lips grazing your jawline as he spoke. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft and glazed with a profound, quiet adoration. "You feel so good, sweetheart. So perfect. I never want to leave you."

He reached down, his hand sliding under the small of your back to pull you even tighter against him, making sure there wasn't a single millimeter of space between your bodies. He began to pepper your face with tiny, soft kisses your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose each one.

"Michael..." you sighed, your eyes fluttering shut as you drifted in the haze of afterglow. You felt so full, so cherished, as if his very essence was being poured into you.

"I got you, angel," he whispered, his hand moving from your back to cup your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin with a reverence that made your heart swell. "I got you. Just breathe. Just feel me."

He continued that slow, hypnotic movement, a gentle, pulsing slide that was more about connection than conquest. It was a worship of the quiet moments the way your breath hitched when he pressed a kiss to your collarbone, the way your hands instinctively curled into his hair, the way your bodies seemed to hum in a shared silence

In the quiet of the room, with nothing but the sound of your synchronized breathing, it felt like time had stopped.

The room was quiet, save for the soft, rhythmic sound of your breathing and the distant, muffled hum of the world outside that seemed a million miles away. Michael was still draped over you, his head resting in the hollow of your shoulder, his skin still warm and damp against yours. He was moving with a slow, almost hypnotic lazyness, his hips occasionally giving a tiny, affectionate nudge that kept you tethered to the sensation of him still being buried deep within you.

"You're so quiet, baby," he murmured, his voice a low, sleepy vibration against your skin. He lifted his head just enough to press a lingering kiss to your temple. "Thinking about something?"

"Just... how much this feels like a dream," you whispered, your fingers tracing the line of his shoulder, feeling the lean strength of him. "it feels like if I blink too hard, the world is gonna come rushing back in and take all of this away."

Michael went still. The playful, sleepy haze in his eyes shifted, replaced by something much more intense, much more grounded. He shifted his weight, propping himself up on one elbow so he could look down at you. The soft light of the room caught the dark, serious depth of his gaze.

"It ain't a dream, angel," he said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming that steady, commanding weight you had come to rely on. He reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. "I don't do anything halfway. You know that. When I want something... when I want someone... it's everything."

He paused, his eyes searching yours, reading the flicker of hesitation that always lived in the back of your mind. He knew about him. He knew about the man you were supposed to be with the one who was supposed to be your "stable" choice, but who left you feeling half empty and unappreciated.

"You're so good to everyone," Michael continued softly, his hand sliding down to cup your cheek, his touch heavy and warm. "You take care of other people, you take care of the kids... you're so selfless, angel. But who takes care of you?"

Your heart gave a painful little thud against your ribs. You knew where this was going.

"Michael..." you breathed, a warning and a plea all at once.

"He don't see you," Michael whispered, his gaze dropping to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, fierce and unwavering. "Not the way I see you. He doesn't know how to worship you. He don't know how to make you feel like the center of the whole universe."

He leaned down, pressing a slow, firm kiss to your forehead, his forehead resting against yours. "You don't gotta decide anything tonight. Not while we're right here. But just... just think about it, okay? Think about what it'd be like to be with someone who's actually hungry for you. Someone who's gonna give you everything you deserve."

He pulled back just a fraction, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips a hint of the man who could command thousands, but was choosing to use that power just to hold you.

"Because in a way, you're mine, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a promise as he lowered his head to kiss you again, deep and slow. "In every way that matters... you're already mine."

As he pulled you closer, his body settling back into yours, the weight of his words lingered in the air, more intoxicating than the sex had been. You closed your eyes, drifting off to the feeling of him inside you, wondering if the dream was finally starting to become your reality.

it always started with the same quiet knock on his front door past midnight, the kind of sound only someone who knew the exact rhythm of his house would make. michael never had to ask who it was. he’d just lay there on his back for a fraction of a second, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, listening to the heavy silence of havenhurst before sliding out of bed. when he opened the door, she was always standing there. sometimes she was crying, sometimes she just looked completely drained, her makeup a little smudged under her eyes, holding her jacket tight around her shoulders like a shield against the world outside. and every single time, without a word, michael would just step aside, opening the door wider to let her melt into his warmth.

they had been a fixture in each other's lives for as long as anyone could remember. it was the kind of closeness that defied simple labels. to the rest of the world, they were just best friends—the girl who could make the notoriously shy pop star laugh until his chest ached, the one person who saw past the stage lights and the intense pressure of his career. she knew how he took his tea, she knew the exact look in his eyes when he was overwhelmed by a crowd, and she knew how to ground him when his own thoughts became too loud. they spent hours sitting on the floor of his home studio, her listening to him hum unfinished melodies, their legs tangled together under a blanket without either of them thinking twice about it.

but there was a hidden, unspoken side to this friendship, a blurry line they both crossed whenever the world became too heavy. it wasn't a relationship, at least not officially. it was a mutual understanding, an unspoken pact born out of absolute trust and a deep, simmering physical attraction that neither of them could quite suppress. it would happen naturally—a lingering gaze over the rim of a glass, his hand resting on her waist just a second too long while they walked through the gardens, or the way his voice would drop an octave, becoming soft and velvety when they were alone in the dark. and then, it would lead to quiet, breathless nights in his oversized bed, nights filled with gentle touches, whispered secrets, and a fierce intensity that felt a lot more like love than either of them dared to admit.

the problem was the ghost that always hovered between them: her ex. a guy who knew exactly how to pull her back in just when she was finally starting to breathe. their relationship was a vicious, exhausting cycle of screaming matches, tearful breakups, and toxic reconciliations. every time he pushed her away or made her feel small, she ran straight to michael. michael was her safe harbor, the one who rebuilt her piece by piece, holding her through the night while she cried over another man’s cruelty. michael hated him. he absolutely despised the way that guy treated her, the way he dimmed her light. but as long as she kept going back, michael kept his mouth shut, playing the role of the devoted best friend who was just happy to have her in his arms for a little while, hiding the dark, possessive spark that was slowly beginning to ignite deep within his chest every time he had to let her go again.

very long time, the toxic shadow of her ex seemed to completely vanish from the picture. the final breakup had been messy, filled with the usual slammed doors and late-night tears, but weeks turned into months, and she hadn't gone back. michael watched her slowly heal, watching the heavy tension leave her shoulders and the bright, genuine laughter return to her voice. they were spending more time together than ever, their days blurring into a comfortable, domestic routine that felt dangerously like a real relationship. they cooked late-night meals together in his kitchen, watched old movies until the sun started to rise, and shared quiet, comfortable silences that didn't need to be filled with words.

but while she was finding her footing and celebrating her newfound freedom, something inside michael was shifting, growing into something far more intense and consuming. before, when she was constantly running back and forth, he had managed to keep his feelings locked away in a dark corner of his mind, convincing himself that being her safe harbor was enough. but now, having her all to himself for months without the constant threat of that other guy changed everything. the casual, no-strings-attached nature of their physical moments started to feel like a beautiful torture to him. every time he held her in his arms after they crossed that line, listening to her soft breathing against his chest, a fierce, protective warmth would wash over him, quickly followed by a desperate, aching hunger.

he found himself memorizing the exact way her eyes crinkled when she smiled at him, the scent of her perfume lingering on his pillows long after she left, and the soft, breathless sound of his name slipping from her lips in the dark. it wasn't just attraction anymore; it was an all-consuming need. michael was falling for her, hard and fast, and the realization terrified him just as much as it intoxicated him. he didn't want to just be the best friend she turned to when she was lonely or healing. he wanted to be the only one who got to touch her, the only one who got to love her. every time she brushed her fingers against his arm or leaned her head on his shoulder, his heart would hammer violently against his ribs, his thoughts spiraling into a deep, possessive territory he had never experienced before. she was finally free, and in michael's mind, she was finally, truly becoming his.

it was a quiet, rainy tuesday afternoon when they found themselves tangled up on her living room couch, the soft hum of the rain hitting the windowpanes providing a steady backdrop to their comfortable silence. a half-empty mug of tea was cooling on the coffee table, and she was leaning back against his chest, her hair brushing against his chin while michael lazily traced gentle, random patterns on her bare forearm with his fingertips. everything felt completely peaceful, the kind of safe, insulated bubble they always managed to create whenever they were alone together.

but the peacefulness shattered the moment she took a deep breath, her body turning slightly in his embrace so she could look up at him. she started talking, her voice low and hesitant at first, but then the words just began to pour out of her like a dam breaking. she needed to vent, to finally empty her mind of the lingering weight she had been carrying around. she started talking about her ex, looking back on the relationship with a mix of confusion and exhaustion. she confessed to michael how hard it had been to completely untangle herself from him, how she still sometimes felt the ghost of his toxic words in the back of her head, and how weird it felt to finally be completely done with that chaotic chapter of her life.

"i just... i don't know, mike," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she stared down at her own hands, nervously tangling her fingers together. "some days i feel completely fine, like he's just a bad dream. but then other days, i catch myself wondering why i let him treat me like that for so long. it’s like he still has this tiny, stupid hold on my mind, and i hate it. i just wanted to completely erase him."

michael swallowed hard, his chest tightening as he forced himself to stay still. he reached out, his long, slender fingers gently catching her chin to tilt her face up so she had to look at him. his dark eyes were intense, burning with an emotion she couldn't quite read in the dim light of the room.

"then let him go," michael murmured, his voice incredibly soft, almost a hypnotic purr, though his thumb pressed just a fraction too firmly against her jawline. "he doesn't deserve a single second of your thoughts. not anymore."

she let out a heavy, weary sigh, leaning into his touch, completely blind to the dangerous spark igniting inside him. "i know. you're right. it’s just hard to forget someone who was such a huge part of my life, you know? sometimes i wonder if he ever thinks about me, too. or if he'll ever try to come back."

at those words, michael’s hand dropped from her chin to her neck, his palm resting against the warm skin of her throat, his thumb feeling the sudden, rapid skip of her pulse. his jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. the gentle, patient best friend was fading fast, replaced by something much darker.

"it shouldn't matter if he does," michael said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming dangerously low and thick with a possessive weight. he leaned in closer, his breath brushing against her lips, his eyes locking onto hers with an unyielding grip. "because you're done with him. you're here. with me. he doesn't get to touch you anymore, and he sure as hell doesn't get to have you back."

the heavy, possessive edge in his voice passed completely over her head, misinterpreted as nothing more than the fierce, protective loyalty of a best friend. a soft, incredibly grateful smile touched her lips, melting away the lingering sadness in her eyes. without a word, she shifted her weight and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, burying her face into the crook of his shoulder. she pulled him close, holding onto him like he was the only anchor she had left in the world.

"thank you, michael," she whispered into his skin, her warm breath sending a sharp shiver straight down his spine. she squeezed him a little tighter, sighing with absolute relief. "i don't know what i'd do without you. i'm just so incredibly lucky to have a friend like you in my life. you're the only constant i have."

at the sound of that word—friend—michael froze completely, his entire body going rigid beneath her embrace. it felt like a bucket of ice water pouring over the dark, roaring fire in his chest, only to turn it into a suffocating, toxic smoke. his eyes widened slightly in the dark, staring blankly at the wall over her shoulder. a friend. after everything they had shared in the quiet hours of the night, after the way he had held her, after the way his heart practically bled for her every single day, she still neatly categorized him into that safe, harmless little box.

slowly, almost mechanically, his arms came up to wrap around her waist, but his grip wasn't gentle anymore. he pulled her body flush against his, tight enough to bruise, his large hands anchoring her against him with a sudden, desperate force that made her let out a tiny, surprised gasp. he buried his face in her hair, inhaling her scent deeply, his mind spiraling into a dangerous, dark place. he didn't want to be just her friend. he hated the word. he wanted to scream at her that friends didn't do the things they did, that friends didn't look at each other the way he looked at her. as he held her captive in his arms, his jaw clenched, a quiet, terrifying vow settling deep into his soul: she could call him a friend all she wanted right now, but he was going to make sure she belonged to him completely, and no one else would ever touch her again.

as the days bled into weeks, michael found himself sinking deeper and deeper into the sea of his own feelings, completely unable and unwilling to swim back to the surface. every single morning started with her on his mind, and every night ended with the memory of her laughter echoing in his head. it was a beautiful, overwhelming shift that colored his entire world. he noticed a change in the way he wrote music, the melodies coming to him more easily, softer and sweeter, completely inspired by the way her presence seemed to anchor his chaotic life.

what made him truly happy—a deep, glowing kind of joy that he hadn't felt in years—was watching her bloom again. the heavy, suffocating cloud that her ex had left over her was finally, completely gone. michael watched her with a quiet, reverent awe as her natural luminosity returned. she smiled more, her eyes danced with that old, vibrant spark he had missed so much, and her laughter filled his quiet home with a warmth that no amount of fame or success ever could. she was glowing, radiant, and completely free, and michael took immense pride in knowing he was the one who had helped her find that light again.

with her healing, the dynamic between them began to clarify, clearing up the messy, confusing boundaries of the past. they weren't just running to each other in the dark to escape pain anymore; they were actively choosing each other in the bright light of day. their shared moments became lighter, filled with a beautiful clarity that made michael’s heart swell with hope. when she reached out to hold his hand while they walked, or when she gave him those long, lingering looks across a crowded room, it didn't feel like a temporary comfort. it felt like a promise. the unspoken bond between them was growing stronger, purer, and more defined, making michael believe that very soon, the painful word 'friend' would naturally fade away, leaving only the beautiful reality of what they were meant to be.

michael’s growing affection began to manifest in the quietest, most beautiful ways, turning their daily routine into a series of soft, romantic gestures that she never saw coming. he had always been a generous soul, but now, every little thing he did for her carried a deeper, hidden weight. he became hyper-attentive to her smallest desires, making it his personal mission to bring a smile to her face before she even realized she needed one.

sometimes, he would show up at her apartment door completely unannounced after a long day in the studio, hiding his hands behind his back with a shy, boyish grin playing on his lips. when he stepped inside, he’d present her with a single, perfectly bloomed pink rose, its petals still damp with morning dew. he didn't make a grand spectacle out of it; he would just hand it to her gently, his fingertips lingering against hers for a second too long, whispering that he saw it and immediately thought of her. soon, her kitchen counter was constantly adorned with small glass vases, each holding a token of his quiet devotion.

it wasn't just the flowers, though; it was the overwhelming thoughtfulness behind every single attention. if she casually mentioned in passing that she was craving a specific sweet from a bakery on the other side of town, she would open her door the next morning to find a fresh box of them sitting on her welcome mat with a small, handwritten note from him. when she was stressed, he would show up with her favorite comfort foods, dim the lights, and rub her shoulders with a quiet, intense focus, listening to her talk for hours without ever asking for anything in return. he was slowly wrapping her entire world in his care, spoiling her with a tenderness she had never experienced in her life, desperately hoping she would see that the man who loved her like this could never be just a friend.

but beneath the surface of her bright new life, a quiet, unsettling secret was beginning to take root. while she truly appreciated every single rose and every tender gesture michael showered her with, she couldn't completely shut off the back of her mind. the truth was, her ex hadn't entirely vanished. a few weeks ago, a random, late-night call had rang on her phone from his number—a simple, manipulative 'i miss you, can we talk?'—and it had completely sent her head spinning. she hadn't replied, but she hadn't blocked him either.

since then, he had tried to reach out a few more times, leaving vague voicemails and checking up on her through mutual acquaintances. every time the phone rang, a familiar, toxic knot of anxiety and old habit would tighten in her stomach. she felt incredibly guilty about it, especially when she looked into michael's sweet, devoted eyes, which is exactly why she made the conscious choice to never mention it to him. she knew how much michael hated her ex, and she didn't want to ruin the beautiful, peaceful dynamic they had built over the last few months. she convinced herself that she could handle it on her own, that it wasn't a big deal because she wasn't giving in.

the air was crisp and quiet around two in the morning when michael pulled up to her apartment complex. he had spent the last five hours in the studio, but his mind had been entirely focused on her, prompting him to leave early just to surprise her with her favorite late-night snacks and a fresh bouquet of white roses. he walked up the stairwell with a soft, eager hum vibrating in his chest, anticipating the sweet, sleepy smile she always wore whenever he knocked on her door at odd hours.

but the moment he stepped onto her floor, the gentle warmth in his veins turned to pure, freezing ice.

there, sitting right outside her doorway, was a pair of dirty sneakers. michael stopped dead in his tracks, his breath hitching in his throat as his eyes locked onto the shoes. he recognized them instantly. he had seen them a hundred times before, abandoned on her floor during those horrible months when that man was systematically breaking her heart. it was her ex. he was inside.

for a long, agonizing second, michael couldn't move. his knuckles turned white around the stems of the roses, crushing the delicate leaves until the scent of crushed greenery filled the narrow hallway. a sudden, violent wave of raw jealousy and absolute fury surged from the pit of his stomach, hot and suffocating, making his heart hammer against his ribs like a trapped animal. his teeth ground together so hard his jaw ached, a dangerous, dizzying rush of adrenaline clouding his vision. she had lied to him. she had kept this from him. after everything he had done to rebuild her, she had let that toxic bastard back into her apartment, back into the space that was supposed to be safe.

then, through the thin wood of the front door, a sound bled into the hallway. it was the deep, smug laugh of her ex, followed by the faint muffled sound of her voice answering him.

the sound of that man's laughter snapped something profound inside michael’s mind. he froze completely, his entire body turning to rigid stone as he stood right in front of the door, staring at the peephole with wide, unblinking eyes. the sweet, gentle boy who brought her flowers vanished entirely, replaced by a dark, terrifyingly possessive monster. his chest rose and fell in shallow, ragged breaths as the laughter mocked him from the other side. according to michael, she didn't belong to that ghost anymore; she belonged to him. she was his girl, his sanity, his creation. hearing another man in her space made him want to rip the door off its hinges, his hands trembling with a sudden, vicious urge to tear everything apart.

the silence that followed that night was deafening. days bled into one another, and for the first time in years, michael completely vanished from her life.

at first, she didn't think much of it, assuming he was just trapped in an intense, overnight recording session where he lost all track of time. but by the third day, a cold, nagging knot of anxiety began to tighten in her chest. she called his personal line—the private number only a handful of people possessed—but it went straight to voicemail every single time, his soft, recorded voice offering her a mocking contrast to the heavy silence on the other end. she sent texts, starting with casual check-ins and gradually spiraling into frantic paragraphs, asking if he was okay, if he was hurt, or if something had happened at havenhurst.

the phone never rang back.

nearly a week passed in this agonizing vacuum. she found herself pacing around her apartment, her eyes constantly darting to her quiet phone, her mind spinning in desperate circles. she felt entirely lost without him; the daily roses had stopped coming, the comforting late-night texts were gone, and the sudden absence of his warmth left her apartment feeling freezing and empty. she started questioning everything, her thoughts taking a darker, more paranoid turn. had his management taken his phone away? was he sick? or worse... was he mad at her?

she racked her brain, trying to remember their last conversation on the couch, wondering if she had accidentally said something to hurt him or push him away. she never once connected his sudden disappearance to the brief, unwanted visit from her ex that rainy night—a visit she had quickly shut down after realizing the guy hadn't changed at all. she had no idea that michael had been standing right outside her door, listening to that laughter. she had no clue that his silence wasn't a sign of absence, but rather the quiet, suffocating calm before a massive storm, and that michael was currently sitting in the dark of his own home, deliberately ignoring her calls while his jealousy twisted into something completely uncontrollable.

unable to handle the suffocating silence for another second, she finally cracked. she grabbed her keys, drove over to havenhurst, and prayed he would be alone. her heart was beating like a drum in her throat as she walked up to his front door, her hands trembling slightly as she knocked, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet afternoon air.

for a long minute, nothing happened. she was just about to knock again, tears of frustration pricking her eyes, when she heard the heavy lock click.

the door swung open slowly, and the breath completely caught in her throat. it was michael, but it wasn't the michael she knew. he looked completely unraveled, his curls slightly messy and his eyes shadowed with dark, exhausted circles. there was no welcoming smile, no gentle warmth in his gaze. instead, his eyes were bloodshot, burning with a cold, terrifying intensity that made her instinctively step back. he looked entirely drained, yet under the surface, a dangerous, volatile anger was practically vibrating through his skin.

"michael..." she breathed, her voice shaking as she reached a hand out toward him. "oh my god, you're okay. why haven't you been answering me? i've been so worried—"

"why did you lie to me?"

his voice cut through her words like a razor blade. it wasn't a shout; it was a low, guttural whisper, thick with an agonizing mix of betrayal and raw, unadulterated fury. he didn't open the door any wider, standing there like a dark barrier, his long fingers gripping the edge of the wood so tightly his knuckles were stark white. the sheer possessive rage in his stare pinned her to the spot, making her realize in one terrifying second that he knew exactly what she had been hiding.

she stared at him, her mind completely blank as a wave of genuine confusion washed over her. the intense rage vibrating off his body was terrifying, but she honestly couldn't connect the dots in her frantic, panicked state.

"michael, what are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling as she took a small step closer to the threshold. "what do you mean lie to you? i haven't lied about anything, i swear! please just tell me what's wrong."

michael didn't answer. instead, a dark, bitter scoff slipped from his lips, his shoulders shaking with a terrifying kind of laugh that had absolutely no joy in it. he didn't want to look at her face, because seeing her look so innocent, so clueless, only fueled the blinding fire screaming in his chest. filled with an uncontainable rage, he suddenly spun around on his heel, abandoning the front door entirely, and began walking down the long, dimly lit hallway toward his bedroom. his steps were heavy, deliberate, and practically radiating a dangerous aura that made the entire house feel small.

"michael! stop!" she cried out, her heart hammering wildly against her ribs as she quickly stepped into the house, slamming the front door behind her so she could chase after him.

she followed him down the corridor, her smaller steps running to keep up with his angry, long strides. "michael, talk to me! you can't just ignore me for a week and then accuse me of lying! look at me!" she pleaded, reaching out to grab the sleeve of his shirt, but he ripped his arm away without breaking his pace. she followed him right into his bedroom, the large doors swinging open as he stormed inside, completely desperate to get to the bottom of the terrifying storm that had just taken over her best friend.

he stormed into the deep shadows of his bedroom, finally spinning around to face her the second her feet crossed the threshold. the large doors clicked shut behind her, locking them both inside an incredibly tense, suffocating space. his chest was heaving, his breathing ragged and uneven as he glared down at her, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

"why did you go back to him?" michael demanded, his voice cracking under the sheer weight of his fury. he stepped closer, towering over her, his dark eyes absolutely wild with an intense, possessive rage. "after everything he did to you... after every single night i held you while you cried over his name... why was he in your apartment, laughing? tell me!"

the words hit her like a physical blow. she froze completely, her entire body locking up as the blood completely drained from her face. her eyes widened in pure shock, her breath hitching painfully in her throat as the realization slammed into her mind with terrifying clarity.

he knew. he had seen him.

the puzzle pieces fell into place instantly—the sudden silence, the ignored phone calls, the terrifying anger radiating from him now. she stood there completely paralyzed under his suffocating gaze, realizing that the quiet secret she had been keeping to protect him had just unleashed the darkest, most dangerous side of michael she had ever seen.

her lips parted, but no sound came out at first. she looked up at him, completely trapped beneath the crushing weight of his stare, her mind scrambling for words that simply wouldn't come.

"m-michael, no... i-it's not what you think," she stammered, her voice shaking violently as a thick, painful knot tightened in her throat. she took a small, hesitant step forward, reaching her hands out in a desperate plea. "he—he just showed up... i didn't invite him, i swear, i—"

she couldn't even finish the sentence. the sheer intensity of his fury, combined with the crushing guilt of having kept it a secret, completely broke her. a hot, heavy wave of tears rushed to her eyes, blurring her vision until michael’s angry silhouette became a dark smear in the dim light of the bedroom. she blinked, and the first tear spilled over, tracking a burning line down her pale cheek, quickly followed by another. her shoulders trembled as she swallowed down a sob, staring at him through her tears, utterly terrified by how twisted and ugly a simple misunderstanding had become between them.

michael took a sharp step closer, closing the distance between them until he was looming directly over her, his shadow completely swallowing her small frame. the sight of her tears didn't soften him; if anything, the raw vulnerability in her face only fueled the desperate, ugly knot of jealousy tightening around his throat.

"why do you love him so much?" he asked, his voice dropping into a ragged, breathless whisper that vibrated with absolute pain and fury. he grabbed her by the upper arms, his grip firm and unyielding, forcing her to look up into his dark, chaotic eyes. "what does he give you that i don't? tell me! why is it that every single time he throws a crumb of attention your way, you run right back into his arms like nothing else matters?"

he shook his head, a bitter, breathless laugh escaping his lips as he stared down at her tear-stained face. his chest was heaving against hers, the proximity suffocating and charged with an intense, dangerous energy.

"after every single night we spent in this bed... after the way i look at you, the way i take care of you... you still choose him?" his voice cracked, thick with a possessive despair that made his eyes burn. "he breaks you, and i have to patch you back up, just for you to hand yourself right back to him on a silver platter. why, because you think he owns you? because you think nobody else can love you like that? look at me! why do you keep letting him ruin us?"

the accusation cut deep, and the sheer possessive weight of his words snapped something inside her, replacing her paralyzing fear with a sudden, desperate surge of defensiveness. she yanked her arms back, trying to break his firm grip, her chest heaving as a fresh wave of hot tears spilled down her cheeks.

"how do you mean us, michael?!" she cried out, her voice breaking completely, a breathless, sobbing gasp escaping her throat. she looked at him through her blurred vision, her face pale and distorted by misery. "i don't—i don't owe you anything to begin with! we are friends, michael! you are my best friend!"

she swallowed hard, her voice trembling violently as she tried to force the words past the thick lump in her throat, desperately needing him to understand the nightmare she had actually been dealing with.

"you don't understand," she stammered, her hands shaking as she pressed them against his chest, not to hold him, but to desperately keep some distance between them. "he... he just showed up. it’s his manipulation, michael! you know how he is. he knows exactly when i'm weak, he knows exactly when i'm starting to feel better, and he uses it. he profits off my vulnerability just to force his way back into my life! i didn't ask for him to be there, i didn't want him there! he manipulated his way into my apartment and i was just trying to get him to leave without making a scene!"

at her words, something shifted completely in michael’s eyes. the dark, simmering fury broke into a cold, terrifyingly sharp clarity. he didn't flinch when she screamed that they were just friends; instead, a slow, dark smile touched his lips, completely devoid of any warmth. it was a terrifying look on a face usually so gentle.

"friends?" he whispered, his voice dropping into a low, dangerous purr that vibrated right against her skin.

before she could even register the shift in his tone, his hands moved from her arms to her waist, his long fingers digging into her hips with a sudden, bruising force. he jerked her forward, slamming her body flush against his chest so violently she lost her breath. he loomed over her, his dark eyes locking onto hers with a fierce, suffocating intensity that made the entire bedroom feel like it was closing in on them.

"don't you dare lie to yourself like that," michael growled, his breathing ragged, his face just inches from hers. "best friends don't cross the lines we've crossed in the dark. best friends don't touch each other the way i touch you. i am not your friend, and i am done playing that stupid little game."

he leaned down closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke, his voice thick with a raw, terrifyingly possessive weight that made her whole body tremble.

"you think you don't owe me anything? you belong to me. you’ve belonged to me since the first night you came crying to my doorstep and let me put you back together. i rebuilt you piece by piece while that bastard broke you. he doesn't get to touch you anymore. he doesn't get to profit off your vulnerability. you are mine, do you hear me? mine. and i am never letting you go back to him."

the breath completely trapped itself in her throat, her chest locked tight against his as his words echoed through the silence of the dark bedroom. she stared up at him, her eyes wide, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of what was happening. this wasn't the sweet, gentle michael who brought her roses and rubbed her shoulders after a long day. the boy standing before her was completely unrecognizable, his voice dripping with a raw, dominant authority that she had never heard from him before.

he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.

"look at what you're doing to me," michael whispered, his voice cracking with a fragile, trembling emotion that made her heart instantly twist with guilt. "you're sitting there looking at me like i'm a monster. like i'm the one trying to hurt you. after everything i've sacrificed for you... after how much i've bled just to keep us together."

he let out a ragged, trembling sigh, his long fingers trailing up her arms with a delicate, shaking touch, acting as if he were the one who was completely broken and defenseless in the dark.

"i'm the victim here, sweetheart. not you. i'm the one who has to stay up all night, tearing myself apart, wondering why the only person i love would rather let another man touch her than protect my heart. you threw my love right back in my face, and now you're punishing me just because i'm desperate enough to fight for you? because i'm bleeding out right in front of you?"

he squeezed his eyes shut, a single, perfectly timed tear escaping down his cheek as his chest heaved against hers, making himself look entirely helpless and undone by her apparent cruelty.

"you did this to me," he choked out, his voice dripping with a tragic, agonizing despair that was entirely calculated to destroy her defenses. "you broke me first. i'm only like this because you drove me to it. please... tell me you see what you've done to me. tell me you're going to fix the man you broke."

the words left her lips in a panicked, trembling rush, her hands pressing weakly against his chest as she tried to find some ground to stand on. "m-michael... stop, please. you're talking crazy. you're saying completely ridiculous things."

the moment the protest left her mouth, michael's entire demeanor shifted. the fragile, weeping victim vanished in an instant, his jaw locking tight as a chilling, icy stillness washed over his features. he didn't pull away; instead, he leaned down even heavier, trapping her beneath his frame so completely that she could barely expand her lungs to breathe.

"crazy?" he echoed, his voice dropping into a low, terrifyingly calm whisper that vibrated right against her lips. "you think i'm saying ridiculous things?"

he let out a sharp, humorless chuckle that sent a cold shiver straight down her spine. his dark eyes bored into hers, completely devoid of the warmth she usually found there.

"i'm the one who's crazy? after i watched you welcome him into your space? after i had to sit in the dark and feel my entire world collapse because you couldn't be bothered to protect us?" his grip on her jaw tightened, just enough to keep her completely still, forcing her to look at the cold fury masking his face. "don't you dare try to rewrite what you did to me. don't you dare sit here and gaslight me into thinking my pain isn't real just because you don't want to face the guilt of what you've done."

he leaned in closer, his hot breath brushing against her ear as his voice turned dangerously sharp.

"you don't get to dismiss me. you broke me, and now you're going to stay right here and look at exactly what you created."

he leaned back just enough to force her to look into his dark, unyielding eyes, his fingers tightening firmly around her jaw. the cold fury in his expression suddenly shifted into a terrifyingly intense, dark conviction.

"you still don't get it, do you?" michael murmured, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated deep in his chest. "you really don't understand. you think this is a game? you think you can just choose when you want to be with me and when you want to play around with someone else?"

he let out a sharp, breathless exhale, his chest pressing down flush against hers, crushing any space between them until she was entirely pinned beneath his heavy warmth.

"you belong to me. every single piece of you. your body, your breath, your thoughts—they all belong to me," he whispered fiercely, his eyes scanning her panicked, flushed face with an absolute, frightening certainty. "i didn't spend all this time loving you, protecting you, and tearing myself apart just to let you slip away. you are mine. you don't get to decide anymore."

he slid his hand down from her jaw, his long, warm fingers wrapping possessively around her throat—not to squeeze, but to claim, feeling the frantic, rapid flutter of her pulse beneath his palm.

"there is no one else, and there never will be," he purred darkly against her lips, his gaze completely devouring her. "you're locked in this room with me, and you're going to stay right here until you finally understand that you are completely, entirely mine."

the air in the bedroom grew thick, heavy, and suffocatingly hot. with his lips brushing her skin and his hands pinning her hips, the space between them vanished entirely, and a completely different kind of tension began to coil in the pit of her stomach. it wasn't just fear anymore. it was a sharp, dizzying rush of adrenaline that made her whole body tingle, a sudden, dangerous spark igniting right in the middle of all this chaos.

as she stared up at his mouth, her heart hammered so hard against her ribs she was sure he could feel it. the sheer weight of the situation finally crashed down on her with full force. michael—her sweet, gentle, protected michael—was completely out of control, consumed by a fierce, dominant hunger for her. and the most terrifying part? a small, dark corner of her mind was secretly thrilled by the absolute certainty in his voice.

she swallowed hard, her throat dry, her eyes locked onto his dark, burning gaze. she could feel the erratic rise and fall of his chest against hers, the raw male power he was using to hold her still, and the dangerous promises dripping from his tongue. the realization that she was entirely at his mercy, trapped in his bedroom with a man who was ruthlessly claiming her as his exclusive possession, sent a violent shiver right through her core. she was caught in a trap of her own making, and looking into his wild eyes, she realized she didn't even want to run away anymore.

the raw, suffocating intensity of michael's grip finally broke through her defenses, dissolving the last of her confusion into a desperate need to make him understand the truth. she didn't want her ex. she was terrified of him.

"michael, please... listen to me," she choked out, her voice cracking as a fresh wave of tears spilled over her lashes. she stopped trying to pull away and instead let her hands clutch the fabric of his shirt, leaning into his solid chest as her knees threatened to buckle. "i don't want him. i swear to you, i don't. i am so tired, michael... i can't take it anymore."

she swallowed hard, a ragged sob escaping her throat as she confessed the secret she had been carrying alone for weeks. "he... he scares me. he won't stop, michael. he always finds a way to show up, he forces his way into my space, and he doesn't care when i tell him to leave. that night... i was just so paralyzed and terrified of making a scene that i didn't know what to do. i never wanted him there. i never wanted anyone but you."

hearing her voice tremble with genuine fear shifted something volatile in the room. she looked up at him through her blurred vision, her heart hammering wildly as she laid her vulnerability entirely at his feet. she was completely exhausted from running from her past, and in that moment, looking into michael's dark, fiercely protective eyes, she realized she was begging for him to save her—even if it meant completely surrendering herself to his dangerous, absolute control.

the tears she had been trying so hard to hold back finally spilled over, rushing down her cheeks in hot, heavy streams. her shoulders shook violently as she completely broke down under the crushing weight of her exhaustion, her fear of her ex, and the sheer, dizzying intensity of everything happening in this room.

seeing her completely unravel like this caused a subtle shift in michael’s expression. the blinding, volatile fury melted into a dark, suffocating tenderness—something far more dangerous and possessive than his anger had been. his tight grip on her hips loosened just enough for him to bring one hand up to her face. his long, slender fingers, incredibly gentle yet unyielding, brushed against her wet cheek. with his thumb, he slowly, almost religiously, wiped away the tears pooling at her lashes.

"shh... don't cry anymore. don't you ever cry for him again," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, caressing cadence that carried an absolute, undeniable authority.

he leaned in even closer, pressing his forehead directly against hers, forcing her to drown in the depths of his dark gaze as his presence entirely swallowed her up.

"you never have to be afraid of him again. i’m here now. he’s never going to get near you again, do you hear me?" his hand slid around to the back of her neck, his fingers anchoring themselves into her hair to keep her pinned right against him. "you belong to me. you are mine, and no one else’s. i’m going to protect you from him, i’m going to protect you from everything. but you have to understand that you are my girl now. never again do you let him in. never again do you hide anything from me. you are mine, okay?"

every word he whispered as he wiped her eyes felt like a sacred, unbreakable pact being sealed in the shadows of the bedroom. he wasn't leaving her an exit, erasing the entire outside world until there was absolutely nothing left but the two of them in the dark.

she could barely breathe, her throat so tight with sobs that the words caught and tangled on her tongue. she shook her head weakly against his forehead, her small hands clutching desperately at the front of his shirt as she tried one last time to make him understand the absolute terror her ex had put her through.

"m-michael... p-please," she stammered, a broken, breathless gasp escaping her trembling lips as fresh tears instantly replaced the ones he had just wiped away. "i—i didn't want... i tried to tell him to leave, i swear... i was just so scared... you have to believe me, mike..."

but her frantic explanations seemed to fade into nothingness against the heavy, dominant rhythm of his breathing. michael didn't look at her like a friend listening to a story; he looked at her like a man claiming what was rightfully his. his thumb continued its slow, deliberate path across her damp skin, smoothing away the moisture with a touch that felt entirely too heavy, entirely too possessive to resist.

"shh... it doesn't matter anymore," he murmured, his voice dropping into an even deeper, darker whisper that vibrated straight through her chest.

with every word, he moved closer, pressing his body so firmly against hers that she could feel the hard line of his thighs and the terrifying, steady beat of his heart. he nudged her chin upward, backing her up just an inch until the back of her knees hit the edge of his mattress, trapping her completely between him and the bed.

"forget about him," michael whispered, his lips brushing against her cheek now, traveling down to the corner of her mouth as his hot breath fanned over her skin. "he’s gone. you don't answer to him, you don't look at him. you only look at me. you are mine now. every single part of you belongs to me."

"n-no... michael, we can't... we can't do this," she stammered, her voice cracking as a sudden wave of panic cut through the heavy tension.

with a desperate surge of strength, she pushed her hands against his chest and managed to tear herself away from his suffocating grip. the sudden loss of his heat made the bedroom air feel freezing cold. her heart was hammering wildly against her ribs as she began to pace back and forth across the dark hardwood floor, her hands gripping her own hair, her mind spinning out of control. "this is wrong... you're my friend, michael, we are crossing lines we shouldn't be crossing... i'm so confused, i can't think straight..."

michael stood completely still by the edge of the bed, watching her frantic movements with a calm, unbothered intensity. he didn't chase after her; instead, he just leaned back slightly, a soft, almost disappointed sigh escaping his lips as he shook his head.

"what do you mean we can't do this?" he asked, his voice dripping with a smooth, gaslighting gentleness that made her stop in her tracks. he took a slow, deliberate step toward her, his expression a picture of pure innocence and concern. "sweetheart, look at how worked up you're getting over nothing. you're the one who came into my room crying. you're the one who always comes to me when he breaks you. i'm just giving you the security you've been begging for this whole time."

he walked closer, his dark eyes locked onto hers, completely twisting reality until she felt like she was the one losing her mind.

"don't act like i'm forcing this on you," michael murmured, a faint, condescending smile touching his lips. "you know you want this just as much as i do. you're just scared because for the first time, someone actually wants to take care of you completely. why are you pretending this is a mistake when you've been leading us right to this moment every single night?"

"b-but we're friends, michael! we've always just been friends," she cried out, her voice cracking as she stopped her pacing, her eyes wide and desperate as she stared at him fromacross the room. she was practically begging him to validate the reality she had been clinging to for months, her hands trembling against her sides. "you're the person i trust most in the world, but as a friend... we can't just change that."

michael let out a low, bitter laugh, a sound that sent a cold chill straight down her spine. he closed the distance between them in a few slow, predatory strides, not stopping until he was looming right over her again, his presence completely trapping her against the wall.

"friends? really?" he whispered, tilting his head down so his dark, intense gaze could pierce straight into hers. his voice dropped into that low, dangerous purr, utterly dismissive of her panic. "after everything we’ve done behind closed doors? you're really going to stand there and tell me that?"

he reached out, his long fingers firmly wrapping around her waist once more, pulling her flush against his chest so suddenly that a soft gasp escaped her lips.

"best friends don't hold each other the way we do in the dark. they don't look at each other the way you look at me when you're lonely," michael murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he tightened his grip, completely shattering any illusion of innocence left between them. "we passed 'just friends' a long time ago, sweetheart. we are so much more than that now, and you know it. stop lying to yourself."

he slowly leaned in closer, his forehead coming to rest against hers, though there was no real warmth in the gesture—only a heavy, suffocating pressure. his breathing was deliberate, casting a hot, uneven rhythm over her lips. when he spoke again, the hard, dominant edge in his voice suddenly fractured, shifting into something terrifyingly fragile and wounded.

he leaned down even closer, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of her earlobe, his hot breath sending a violent shiver straight down her spine. even with his hand resting possessively over her throat, his touch suddenly became agonizingly slow, almost tender, contrasting terrifyingly with the raw dominance in his voice.

"tell me the truth, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic purr. "did he ever make you smile the way I do? when he looked at you, did your heart race like it's doing right now?"

he trailed his lips down her jawline, planting a slow, burning kiss just beneath her ear before looking back down into her wide, glassy eyes. a dark, deeply confident smile pulled at his lips.

"and what about when we're together? during our little secret adventures... did he ever even come close to making you feel that kind of pleasure? did he ever make your body shake and shatter the way i just did?"

he slid his hand down from her neck, his fingers trailing a burning path over her collarbone before digging firmly into her hip, pinning her completely against the wall.

"he couldn't touch you, and you know it," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes burning with an absolute, undeniable triumph. "nobody can love you like i do. nobody can make you feel alive the way i do. you're ruined for anyone else, sweetheart, because no one will ever compare to me."

his fingers slowly dragged down from her hip, tracing a burning line across the sensitive skin of her stomach. the movement was agonizingly deliberate, making her stomach muscles tense instantly under his touch.

"did he even know how to touch you?" michael whispered, his voice dropping into a rough, gravelly murmur that vibrated right against her skin. "did he know the exact spots that make you lose your mind?"

his hand slid lower, moving past her waist and slipping between her thighs, his long, warm fingers making direct, heavy contact with her slick warmth. he didn't push inside right away; instead, his palm pressed firmly against her core, applying a torturous, rhythmic pressure that forced a soft, helpless gasp from her lips.

"did he make you burn like this, sweetheart?" he purred fiercely, watching her face closely as a fresh wave of heat made her hips twitch weakly against his hand. "did he ever make you open up for him this easily? look at how your body answers me. you were made for my hands, and only mine."

"m-michael... what are you doing? please..." she breathed out, the words trembling past her lips in a weak, desperate gasp.

but even as the protest left her mouth, her body completely betrayed her. she didn't pull away. she didn't try to close her legs or push his hand away. instead, her fingers clutched tighter into the wall, her hips melting helplessly into the firm, heavy pressure of his palm. she was completely paralyzed by the sheer intensity of him, trapped in a daze where her mind wanted him to stop, but her body was already entirely surrendered to his touch.

michael let out a low, deeply satisfied hum against her skin, noticing instantly how she wasn't fighting him. he loved the contradiction—the way she questioned him with her voice, while her entire body opened up for him, pleading for more.

"i'm taking what's mine, sweetheart," michael whispered fiercely, his dark eyes locking onto hers as his long fingers began to move against her, sliding through her slick warmth with a slow, deliberate friction.

he leaned down, his lips brushing against her burning cheek as he witnessed her complete, silent submission.

"look at you... you're asking me to stop, but you're shaking for me. you're soaking wet for my fingers," he purred darkly into her ear, his rhythm turning heavier, driving her right back into a state of absolute delirium. "you're letting me do exactly what i want with you, because you know this is exactly where you belong."

"m-michael, please... if you don't stop, i won't be able to..." she trailed off, the words dying in her throat as a sharp, sudden knot of emotion cut off her breath. she couldn't finish the thought, couldn't voice the terrifying truth that she was losing every ounce of her resolve under the heavy weight of his hands and his words.

michael stopped the movement of his fingers just for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes narrowing in the dim light as he leaned down closer, his face mere inches from hers.

"you won't be able to what, sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice a low, challenging rasp that vibrated with dangerous curiosity. "finish the sentence. tell me exactly what you can't do."

but instead of answering, instead of letting him drag another piece of her confession out into the open, she completely snapped. a wave of raw, overwhelming emotion crashed over her—a suffocating mix of devastating sadness from his cruel manipulation and a sudden, burning anger at how easily he could make her crumble.

before he could utter another word, she reached up, her hands tangling desperately into his hair, and pulled his face down to hers, slamming her lips against his.

the kiss was completely chaotic, filled with a bruising intensity that caught him completely off guard. there was nothing sweet or gentle about it; it was a desperate, messy collision of all the pain and frustration she was holding inside. she poured every ounce of her heartbreak into the friction of their lips, crying out silently against his mouth in a furious, grieving surrender that told him everything her words couldn't.

the kiss deepened, turning into a frantic, breathless struggle as michael instantly met her intensity. he didn't back down for a single second; instead, his arms locked around her waist and shoulders, crushing her chest against his with a sudden, bruising force that threatened to squeeze the remaining air right out of her lungs.

it was a chaotic collision of passion and underlying fury. every movement of his lips against hers felt like a battle for absolute control, a heavy, desperate possessiveness that was as intoxicating as it was terrifying. he was holding her so tightly it almost hurt, his large hands digging deep into her skin as if he wanted to physically meld her body into his own, ensuring she could never pull away from him again.

she could taste the raw anger in the way his teeth grazed her bottom lip, but beneath the violence of it, there was a desperate, suffocating need that made her head spin. she clung to him just as fiercely, her fingers ripping through his curls, matching his heavy, demanding rhythm as the dark room seemed to completely vanish around them. they were drowning in each other, completely consumed by a storm of hurt, desire, and mutual ruin.

without breaking the kiss, michael suddenly locked his arms beneath her thighs and hoisted her up in one powerful, effortless motion. her instinct kicked in instantly, her legs wrapping tightly around his waist as he slammed her back hard against the bedroom wall. the sudden impact jolted through her, but before she could even gasp, his mouth crushed back down onto hers with an even more aggressive, unyielding fury.

the kiss completely devolved into something primal and frantic. he was dominating her mouth, his tongue forcing its way inside with a heavy, demanding friction that completely stole her breath away. there was no gentleness left, no hesitation—just a raw, bruising hunger that made her head spin as he pinned her body flat against the wall with his heavy chest.

she clung to his shoulders for dear life, her fingers digging desperately into his skin as the sheer intensity of the collision threatened to pull her under. every ragged breath they shared felt like fire, the toxic mixture of anger, desire, and mutual destruction burning hot between them as he held her aloft, completely at his mercy.

her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.

michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.

the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.

her hands tore away from his shoulders, dropping down to the collar of his shirt with that same frantic, aggressive energy. she didn't care about being careful; her fingers gripped the fabric tightly, pulling and tugging at the buttons with a desperate impatience that nearly ripped the material apart. she needed the barrier gone, needed to feel his bare skin against hers to match the suffocating intensity burning in her chest.

michael let out a low, rough growl against her mouth, his grip on her thighs tightening even more ruthlessly as he felt her nails graze against his chest. he helped her, shifting his weight just enough to let her slide the shirt off his shoulders, letting it drop carelessly to the floor.

the moment her bare palms made contact with his hot, tense muscles, the kiss grew even wilder. she dragged her hands up his chest, her touch a chaotic mix of anger and absolute need, while his mouth continued to dominate hers, pinning her to the wall as they completely lost themselves in the friction of the dark bedroom.

breaking the kiss for a split second, michael leaned back just enough to look at her, his chest heaving violently against hers, his dark eyes wild and completely consumed by the chaos between them. a rough, breathless laugh escaped his lips, his voice dropping into a ragged, fierce whisper against her mouth.

"you're completely insane," he growled, his grip on her thighs tightening until it almost bruised.

"so are you," she shot back instantly, her voice trembling with that same volatile mix of anger and devotion, her eyes staring right back into his with a defiant, burning intensity.

before the words could even fully leave her lips, michael crashed his mouth back down onto hers, and they completely lost their minds. the kiss became a frantic, desperate collision, a beautiful ruin of lips and teeth as they devoured each other in the dark room.

while keeping her pinned firmly against the wall with the weight of his upper body, michael slid one of his large, warm hands down from her thigh. with rough, impatient movements, his fingers hooked into the waistband of her bottoms, dragging the fabric down her legs with a desperate urgency. she kicked her legs out of them blindly, never once breaking the suffocating depth of the kiss, her hands gripping his bare shoulders as her body completely opened up to his touch, entirely surrendered to the madness.

he pulled his lips away from hers just an inch, his hot, ragged breath brushing violently against her mouth as he kept her pinned hard against the solid wood of the wall. his eyes were pitch black, completely consumed by that toxic, relentless jealousy that he just couldn't shake.

"did he ever do this to you?" michael demanded, his voice a rough, breathless rasp that shook with possessive anger. "did he ever have the balls to slide his hands up your thighs, lift you up, and slam you against a wall like this? did he ever look at you and make you feel like you were going to break in half?"

she let out a desperate, shaky gasp, her fingers clutching his bare shoulders as he pressed his heavy frame even closer, giving her absolutely no room to escape his questions.

"tell me, sweetheart. did he touch you right here? did he make you shake the way i do?" he purred darkly, his words dripping with a bitter, obsessive curiosity that was entirely meant to torture them both.

she couldn't take it anymore. the words, the accusations, the suffocating guilt—she just wanted all of it to vanish into the dark. she didn't want to think about the past, and she didn't want to fight the monster he was being.

"shut up," she breathed out, her voice a fierce, broken whisper as she stared straight into his wild eyes. "just shut up and make love to me."

the words left her lips like a direct challenge, and it instantly woke something fierce and predatory deep inside him. a dark, dangerous wave of pride surged through his chest, smoothing out the rough edges of his anger into an absolute, intoxicating sense of victory. he let out a low, gravelly chuckle against her skin, the sound vibrating with a supreme, masculine satisfaction. she was begging him now, entirely consumed by him, completely blind to anyone else.

with his ego fully fed and his possessiveness validated, he slowly lowered her just enough for her feet to touch the hardwood floor, though he kept her pinned firmly against the wall with the heavy, unyielding weight of his bare torso. he intentionally loosened his iron grip on her, giving her arms just enough freedom to move.

"do it then," michael whispered right against her ear, his breath hot and commanding. "take it off me."

her hands dropped to the waistband of his trousers instantly, her fingers trembling but filled with that same frantic, aggressive urgency. she unbuckled his belt with a sharp, metallic click that echoed loudly in the quiet bedroom, her nails scratching lightly against his skin as she undid the button and slowly dragged the heavy zipper down. michael stood perfectly still, his head tilted back slightly against the wall, a dark, triumphant smirk playing on his lips as he watched her through hooded, burning eyes, completely enjoying her desperation.

she hooked her fingers into the fabric, pushing his trousers and briefs down past his hips in one smooth, impatient motion, completely baring his lower body to the cool air of the dark room. his manhood was already fully exposed—thick, heavy, and pulsing with a fierce, hot readiness that completely dominated the small space between them. a thin sheen of pre-cum glistened at the dark tip, catching the faint glint of light in the shadows as his erection strained upward, a raw testament to how much her submission and her words had driven him crazy.

she stared down at him for a fraction of a second, her breath hitching at the sheer size and heat radiating from his lap, but before she could even process it, michael’s hand locked firmly around the back of her neck, tilting her head up to force her to look at him.

"look at what you do to me," he purred darkly, his long fingers sliding down to grip her thigh, lifting her leg up high to completely open her up to him. "now tell me exactly who you belong to."

"you," she gasped out, her voice a broken, breathless whisper as she clung to his bare shoulders for support. "i belong to you, michael. only you."

the answer was exactly what he needed to hear. that dark, possessive pride flared up in his chest again, and without another word, he lifted her leg higher, hooking it securely around his hip to completely expose her center to his heat.

he positioned himself directly against her entrance, the broad, smooth tip of his length brushing firmly through her slick warmth, teasing the very edge of her core. she let out a sharp, involuntary whine at the sensation, her hips instinctively tilting forward, begging for the friction, but michael paused for one agonizing second, staring deep into her eyes to make sure she was looking right at him when it happened.

"stay right there. look at me," he murmured, his voice a dark, commanding growl.

then, with one heavy, unyielding thrust, he drove himself straight inside.

the sudden, massive fullness of him filled her completely, stretching her tight walls so perfectly that a loud, choked gasp tore from her throat. her fingers dug deep into the muscles of his back, her nails scratching against his skin as her body adjusted to the intense, burning heat of him burying himself all the way to the hilt. michael let out a low, ragged groan against her neck, his entire body shuddering as her slick, tight core clamped down fiercely around his length, trapping him inside her suffocating warmth.

he didn't give her time to recover. holding her firmly against the wall with his hands locked under her thighs, he pulled back slightly and drove in again, establishing a heavy, aggressive rhythm that made the headboard rattle against the drywall. each deep, possessive stroke was a reminder of exactly who she belonged to, plunging them both headfirst into absolute madness.

the rhythm became completely frantic, a heavy, seamless friction that echoed loudly in the dark bedroom. each time he drove himself deep inside her, the impact jolted straight through her core, sending a violent, paralyzing wave of pleasure through her entire body. she was completely undone, her head rolling back against the solid wall as ragged, breathless moans tore from her throat with every single thrust.

she absolutely loved it. she loved the terrifying intensity of his weight against her, the bruising grip of his hands on her skin, and the undeniable truth that, despite all the anger and the tears, her body was completely wired for his touch. she clung to his bare shoulders, her fingers digging deep into his muscles, pulling him closer and tilting her hips forward to meet every heavy stroke, matching his aggressive energy with a desperate hunger of her own.

michael let out a low, gravelly groan against the column of her neck, his chest heaving violently against hers. the feeling of her tight, slick walls clamping down ruthlessly around him with every movement was driving him completely insane. he could feel how perfectly she welcomed him, how her body shaped itself entirely around his length, and it fed that dark, possessive pride inside him until it was completely intoxicating.

he loved the absolute certainty of having her pinned here, hearing her voice break as she cried out his name, knowing that no matter what happened outside this room, she was entirely surrendered to him in the dark.

"look at you... you love this," michael panting, his voice a rough, breathless rasp as he pulled back and drove right back in, burying himself to the hilt. "you love how hard i'm taking you, don't you, sweetheart?"

she couldn't even answer with words; she just let out a sharp, shattered cry, her legs wrapping even tighter around his waist as she buried her face into his neck, biting down gently on his shoulder to anchor herself through the overwhelming storm of pleasure. they were both completely drowning in the madness, losing themselves in a chaotic, beautiful ruin where anger, passion, and mutual devotion were completely indistinguishable.

he slowed his pace just a fraction, but the depth of his thrusts remained heavy and unyielding, keeping her completely pinned against the wall as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. his hot, ragged breaths were sharp against her skin, vibrating with the sudden, raw return of that suffocating memory.

"you have no idea..." michael growled, his voice dropping into a rough, fractured whisper that shook with a toxic mixture of pleasure and lingering fury. "you have absolutely no idea how much rage i had burning inside me when i saw him standing there. in your apartment. in your space."

he drove into her again, a hard, possessive stroke that forced a broken gasp from her lips, his hands tightening on her thighs until his knuckles turned white.

"i tried so hard to be a gentleman," he panted, his teeth grazing against the sensitive skin of her jawline as he fought the memory of that suffocating anger. "i stood there, i played the part, i didn't lay a hand on him... but i had nothing but pure hatred in my chest. i wanted to tear the place apart. i wanted to destroy him for even looking at what belongs to me."

he pulled back slightly, his dark eyes forcing her to look straight at him through the shadows, his expression a chaotic mix of intense pleasure and raw, vulnerable bitterness.

"seeing another man in your life... it was killing me, sweetheart," he whispered fiercely, his rhythm picking right back up, driving into her with a renewed, desperate intensity that made her head spin. "and right now, i'm wiping every single trace of him out of your mind."

"m-michael... ah! michael..." she moaned out his name, the sound breaking from her throat in a shattered, breathless sob as his words and his body crashed into her all at once.

she tightened her legs around his waist, pulling him in even deeper, wanting to swallow up all that lingering bitterness he was pouring into her. she could feel the raw pain behind his jealousy, and it broke something inside her, melting away the last of her own anger.

"there’s no one else..." she panted, her voice trembling as she clutched his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her through the dark. "it was only ever you... it's always been you. i don't care about him, michael. i don't care about anyone else."

she kissed him again, a deep, desperate reassurance that tasted like salt and heat, trying to heal the wound she had caused.

michael let out a low, shuddering growl against her lips, her words hitting him right in his chest. that final validation completely broke his remaining restraint. his rhythm turned wilder, faster, driving into her with a fierce, possessive desperation that completely consumed them both, erasing everything else from existence until there was nothing left but his name on her lips.

the tension in the room coiled so tight it felt ready to snap. the heavy, desperate rhythm of his hips against hers grew faster, shallower, driven by a sudden, electric urgency that gripped them both at the exact same moment. a familiar, blinding heat began to bloom deep in her lower stomach, spreading rapidly through her veins like wildfire.

"michael..." she gaspsed out, her fingers tightening into his damp hair, her entire body arching off the wall as her internal muscles began to contract around him in tiny, frantic waves.

michael felt the sudden, tight squeeze of her core, and it pushed him right over the edge. his breathing turned completely ragged, his chest heaving violently against hers as a dark, guttural groan tore from his chest. he recognized that look in her eyes—the way her focus shattered, her gaze rolling back as she clung to him for dear life.

"i know, sweetheart... i feel you," he panted fiercely against her lips, his hands locking around her thighs with an iron grip, holding her up as he delivered a few final, devastatingly deep thrusts. "come on... right now. give it all to me."

the pleasure crashed over them like a tidal wave. she let out a long, broken cry against his shoulder as her climax ripped through her, her body shuddering violently in a beautiful, prolonged release. the sensation of her undoing was too much for michael to handle; with one last, powerful surge, he buried himself to the hilt and let go, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as his own release flooded her core, locking them together in a shared, breathless oblivion.

the intense waves of pleasure slowly receded, leaving her body completely heavy and exhausted. her legs gradually slipped down from his waist, her feet finding the cool floor as she leaned weakly against the wall, her forehead resting against michael's bare shoulder. her breath was still coming in short, uneven gasps, but then, the heavy silence of the room was broken by a soft, hitched sob.

a single hot tear slipped down her cheek, quickly followed by another, until she was silently crying, her shoulders trembling against him.

michael noticed instantly. the post-climax daze vanished from his eyes, and his entire demeanor shifted in a fraction of a second. all the rough aggression, the jealousy, and the dark pride completely melted away, replaced by an immediate, protective panic.

"sweetheart?" he murmured, his voice instantly dropping into a soft, worried caress.

he wrapped his large arms securely around her, pulling her close to his bare chest as he felt her shaking. one of his long hands came up to cradle the back of her head, while the other gently lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at him through the dark. his dark eyes were wide with genuine anxiety, searching her tear-stained face for answers.

"hey, hey... look at me. what's wrong?" michael whispered tenderly, his thumb gently wiping away the damp streaks on her cheeks. his heart was suddenly hammering against his ribs, but this time out of fear. "why are you crying? did i hurt you? tell me, please... you're scaring me."

the moment he asked, the dam completely broke. all the anxiety, the guilt, and the suffocating weight she had been carrying inside for months finally spilled over, and she just couldn't hold it back anymore. she buried her face in his bare chest, her hands clutching at his shoulders as the tears came faster, her voice coming out in a broken, trembling rush.

"i'm just... i'm so scared, michael," she sobbed out, the confession tearing from her throat before she could stop it. "i've been so terrified to start anything with you. every single time i look at you, every time i let myself feel how much i love you, i panic."

michael didn't say a word; he just held her tighter, his chest rising and falling heavily as he listened, his heart aching at the raw pain in her voice. He kissed the top of her head, soothing her silently, letting her get everything out.

"i'm so scared that everything is going to repeat itself," she choked out, looking up at him through her blurred vision, her eyes filled with a deep, devastating vulnerability. "my past relation... the way it ended, the way it ruined me. i'm terrified that if i let myself fully belong to you, it's all going to happen again. i can't survive that a second time, michael. i'm so scared that i'm going to lose you."

the raw honesty of her words hit him like a physical blow. the protective instinct in him flared up instantly, fierce and unyielding. michael didn't hesitate for a single second; he cupped her face gently in both of his large hands, using his thumbs to brush away the fresh tears, forcing her to look directly into his eyes so she could see the absolute sincerity burning inside them.

"hey, look at me," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, yet completely solid and grounded. "look right at me, sweetheart. i am not him. and i am not going anywhere."

she squeezed her eyes shut as another fresh wave of tears spilled over, her voice dropping into a small, fragile whisper that completely broke his heart.

"that's why i kept pushing you away," she confessed, her fingers tightening into the fabric of his shirt as if she were trying to anchor herself. "that's why i wanted to just limit us to this... to these little adventures, these casual moments that didn't have a label. i kept telling myself that if it wasn't founded on anything real, if we didn't call it a relationship, then i'd be safe. i thought it would protect me if things went wrong."

she let out a shaky, exhausted breath, finally opening her eyes to look at him, her gaze completely raw and stripped of any armor.

"but it didn't protect me, michael. it just made me miserable. I'm so tired... I'm so incredibly tired of suffering, of being trapped by my own fear. i don't want to hide behind these walls anymore. i don't want to pretend. i just want to love you."

michael’s expression softened so deeply it looked like a physical ache. a low, tender breath escaped his lips as he leaned down, pressing his forehead gently against hers. he felt a profound wave of humility and fierce devotion wash over him; hearing her final surrender, her desire to just let go and love him, completely healed whatever lingering trace of jealousy he had left.

"oh, sweetheart..." he murmured, his hands moving from her face to wrap securely around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest so she could feel the steady, rapid beating of his heart. "you don't have to protect yourself from me. you're safe now. i've got you, and i'm never letting go."

michael held her even closer, pulling her completely into his warmth until there was no space left between them. he wrapped his long arms around her shoulders and lower back, rocking her gently in the quiet darkness of the room, letting the steady rhythm of his heartbeat soothe her frantic breathing.

"listen to me very carefully, okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, like a warm blanket wrapping around her. he leaned down and pressed a long, tender kiss against her wet temple, keeping his lips brushed against her skin as he spoke. "you don't ever have to be scared with me. i know you've been hurt, and i know how terrifying it is to give your heart to someone again. but i promise you, with everything that i am, everything is going to be alright."

he pulled back just enough to look into her eyes, his hands moving up to cup her face with absolute gentleness. gone was the aggressive, jealous man from before; his eyes were filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated devotion.

"i am not going to repeat the past, and i am never, ever going to ruin what we have," he whispered, his thumb wiping away the very last of her tears. "with me, you don't have to build any walls. you can just let go. I'm going to protect you, sweetheart. I'm going to take care of you every single day, and we're going to build something so beautiful, so solid, that nothing can ever break it."

he smiled gently, a small, reassuring curve of his lips that instantly made the dark room feel safe again.

"you just want to love? then let me love you back. just trust me. we're going to take it one step at a time, together. you're safe now, i promise."

without another word, michael slipped one arm securely beneath her knees and the other around her upper back, effortlessly lifting her up into his arms in a gentle bridal carry. she instinctively buried her face into the crook of his neck, her hands clinging to his bare shoulders as he carried her away from the cold wall and across the dark bedroom.

he walked over to the bed and carefully laid her down against the soft, mattress, pulling the plush duvet over her body to keep her warm. instead of pulling away, michael immediately climbed into the bed right beside her, shifting his weight to lie down and pull her flush against his side.

he gathered her back into his arms, resting her head comfortably on his chest while his long fingers gently stroked her hair.

"just let it all out, sweetheart," he murmured softly into the darkness, his voice a soothing, rhythmic whisper as his chest rose and fell beneath her cheek. "i'm right here. if you need to cry, just cry. i've got you."

he held her tightly, completely surrounding her with his warmth and creating a safe, quiet haven where she didn't have to be strong anymore, giving her all the space she needed to finally heal.

rested in the deep quiet of the bedroom, the heavy rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was the only sound for a long moment. michael kept his fingers moving through her hair, his touch incredibly light, but his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, dark with the weight of a truth he had been holding back for a very long time.

he let out a long, heavy breath, his chest shuddering slightly under her head.

"can i tell you something?" he whispered into the shadows, his voice dropping into a low, vulnerable rasp. "something i've never had the courage to say out loud?"

he didn't wait for her to answer, his hand coming down to gently squeeze her shoulder, drawing her just a fraction closer to him.

"i hated it," he confessed bluntly, the raw honesty in his voice cutting through the quiet room. "from the very first day, i absolutely hated that relationship you were in. every time i saw you with him, every time you spoke about him, it felt like a knife twisting right in my gut."

he paused, his fingers tightening slightly in her hair as the memory brought back a faint echo of that old, suffocating frustration.

"it wasn't just because i wanted you for myself—even though god knows i did," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips gently against the top of her head. "it was because i had to sit back and watch what it was doing to you. i saw the way it was draining your light, the way you were constantly carrying this heavy, quiet sadness around. i was so sick of it. i was so damn tired of seeing you suffer for someone who didn't even deserve to breathe the same air as you."

a soft, self-deprecating chuckle escaped his lips, a confession of his own desperation.

"i've never been a manipulative man, sweetheart... but with him, i swear i lost my mind sometimes. there were moments where i did everything i could think of, entirely on purpose, just to push the two of you apart. i'd drop hints, i'd create excuses to keep you away from him, i'd do whatever little things i could just to make that relationship crumble. i didn't care if it made me look bad in the dark. i just wanted it to end. i wanted you out of that prison so i could finally give you the happiness you deserved."

the silence stretched out between them, thick with the weight of everything they had finally laid bare. as michael’s confession hung in the shadows, a strange, heavy realization settled over both of them.

they had been trapped in a beautiful, chaotic cycle, spinning around each other for months. in their own way, they had been almost mutually toxic.

she had kept him at arm's length, intentionally reducing their deep, undeniable connection to fleeting, casual encounters—unintentionally torturing him with a calculated emotional distance just to build a fortress around her fractured heart. and he, driven by a desperate, suffocating need to save her, had crossed lines he never thought he’d cross, manipulating circumstances behind the scenes and letting his fierce jealousy bleed into pure possessiveness tonight against the wall.

but as she lay there listening to the steady, reassuring beat of his heart, they both understood the dark truth of it: every toxic move, every sharp edge, and every mind game had been born from a place of desperate survival. it was a twisted, backwards way of protecting one another. she had been trying to shield them both from a repeat of her tragic past, and he had been trying to tear down her prison walls before the misery could completely destroy her light.

"we really put each other through hell, didn't we?" she whispered into the dark, her voice trembling slightly as she tightened her grip on his torso, finally acknowledging the beautiful madness of how they had fought to survive.

michael let out a soft, rough sigh, his long fingers tracing gentle patterns along her spine as he pulled her even closer into his chest.

"maybe we did, sweetheart," he murmured against her hair, his voice dropping into a tender, unconditional promise. "but it was only because i couldn't let you drown. we don't have to fight like that anymore. we're on the same side now."

she lifted her head from his chest slightly, her eyes searching his face in the dim light of the bedroom. the tears had finally stopped, but her gaze was still fragile, carrying the heavy remnant of all those months of fear.

"can i really do it, michael?" she whispered, her voice small and tentative, breaking the quiet safety of the blankets. "can i really just start a completely new page... without constantly looking over my shoulder, without always worrying about my past ruining everything?"

michael didn't answer with words right away. instead, he shifted closer, his long fingers gently cupping the side of her face to tilt her head up. he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers in a deep, slow kiss. it wasn't like the desperate, frantic kisses from earlier against the wall; this one was tender, incredibly soft, and filled with a quiet, solid reassurance that seemed to pour directly into her soul.

when he finally pulled back just a fraction, his lips were still brushing against hers as he spoke, his breath warm and certain.

"yes," he murmured, his voice a steady, unbreakable promise in the dark. "yes, you can, sweetheart. the past doesn't get a say in this room anymore. we're writing the rest of the story together."

Yeah, this boy went and lost his damn mind.

Michael had been pushing your buttons that whole day. It’s not like you didn’t enjoy his presence or crave his affection, but seriously?

First, came him interrupting your sleep.

He woke you up at 5:42am on Saturday morning. His curly head was in between your legs and he was eating you like you were his long awaited breakfast. Any other day? Fine. Even exceptional, but you had a long week behind you, and a busy one ahead of you. He knew that. You wanted to sleep, and being awoken only two hours into it was not helping. You firmly, but gently, shoved his head away and gave him a stern “Enough.”

Then, came his sulking.

When you finally woke up at 9:08am, groggy and irritated, you decided to try and wind down by cooking for the two of you. He still hadn’t built up the courage to touch you again. He always came up and gave you soft kisses to your neck while you flipped pancakes. He was in his head though, after laying in your shared bed feeling rejected when you sharply ordered him to leave you alone. All he wanted to do was make his favorite girl feel happy and give you some kind of reward for working so hard this week. He didn’t mean to get so lost in the maze of your core that he’d wake you up.

So, because of his own embarrassment, he’d been sighing dramatically and setting things down on tables and counters just slightly too loud. To anyone else, it’d seem normal, but you knew Michael. He was begging for your attention. After he decided not to accompany you while you cooked like he usually did, though, you weren’t gonna cave in and give it him.

The last straw, though? The phone calls.

Long after eating together in suffocating silence – both of you too stubborn to break it – the two of you drifted off to your separate workspaces in your shared home. You were getting things in order for the upcoming Tuesday. Michael was being awarded the Guinness World Record for the best-selling album of all time for Thriller. That meant you needed to make sure you were caught up with work and that you had time to relax before accompanying your star-studded boyfriend to the highly publicized event.

Michael, on the other hand, was doing a whole bunch of nothing. Not because he didn’t need to, but because he couldn’t. He tried writing, he tried finishing up painted portraits for some of his industry peers, he even popped Peter Pan into the room’s tiny VCR, but even that couldn’t catch his attention.

Surely she’ll say somethin’ to me, right? He thought to himself after the movie was about halfway through.

But, you hadn’t. You didn’t even say anything to him for not joining you in the kitchen; something he stubbornly did just to get you to finally acknowledge him. So, he decided to a phone call. He didn’t have much to talk about, he just wanted to be petty.

“Hey, Q!” he said obnoxiously loud, loud enough for you to hear through your closed office door.

You were elbows deep into your work when you heard your boyfriend’s laughter drift through the vents of your office. You couldn’t tell what exactly what he was talking about, but you were sure it was his producer, Quincy Jones, on the other line. He would be joining the two of you to the ceremony, and he must’ve been ironing out details like you were.

Cute, you thought to yourself.

Then, it got ugly real, real fast. At some point, you finally had to walk down the hallway into his room and ask him to lower his voice.

“I’m makin’ some business calls. Could you just be a bit quieter please?” you’d asked him politely.

“Mmm, she speaks!” he joked, and you heard Quincy laugh over the phone’s receiver as well. Had he told him about your mood today? You shrugged it off as he covered the phone and responded, “Yeah, I’ll tone it down some,” and went back to his conversation like your interruption was as unimportant as an infomercial. The interaction left you a bit unnerved, but you’d check him about it later.

You were only able to make it to your second phone call when you heard the hooting and hollering from his office yet again. You tried to ignore it, you really did, but you were sleep deprived, annoyed, and embarrassed because you knew he’d been talking about you. You mumbled out a quick goodbye to your coworker and slammed your phone down, already halfway through your door. You started storming down the hallway once more.

“I thought I asked you to be quiet,” you said as his door flew open, hands on your hips. Michael ignored you and kept speaking on the phone.

“Yeah, and I was thinkin’ of changin’ some of our plans for that event…No- yeah, Tuesday’s,” he continued on.

“Hello?” you questioned him, waving your hands in his face. He covered the receiver and looked up to you briefly.

“One sec,” he responded shortly.

“Yeah. So, I was thinkin’ we invite Brooke. Yeah, she was my date-” he annoyingly emphasized this, “to the last event as well, before I went public with my girl.”

“Michael, hang up,” you spat out, any patience you had left long gone. He still ignored you.

“Yeah, not sure if she’ll like that. Brooke will be a good time, though. I’ll let her know…Mhm, yeah I’ll call you up later.” He finally hung up that stupid phone.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked you innocently. You were heated.

“Are you actually serious? You can be a lil pissy about me not wanting you to eat me out, that’s fine. I’ll let it slide for the first couple of hours. It’s been damn near twelve, Michael. I have important shit to handle, for you and your important event. I asked you politely to be quiet and I even let it slide when you continued not to be.” You stared at him wildly, gasping for air after saying everything in one breath.

“I’m off the phone now. You can continue,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders and he started dialing another number.

“Not even an apology? Yeah, forget it. I’ll sleep in my office tonight, too,” you said in a fit of anger as you stormed back to your workspace.

Who the hell did this boy think he was? You spent at least 10 minutes pacing back and forth enough to wear a hole into your carpet. You couldn’t even concentrate on your work anymore, unspoken words settled on the tip of your tongue. You wanted to tell him to grow up, to kiss you, to fuck himself.

Without thinking, your legs started down that short but treacherous path of your hallway. You were about to knock when you realized he’d actually gotten quiet this time. Curious, you touched your hand to the doorknob before freezing. You heard him giggling at some feminine voice coming in through his phone.

“Yeah, and if anything, we can just say that you’re my date. Y’know, to soften the blow. ‘M sure she’ll be fine with-” You flew into the room once more, seething.

“Oh, so you’re fine with pretending to date another girl? All over some head, Michael? You done lost your damn mind. Hang up, now. Or I will.”

“Wai-” he started.

You yanked the phone from his grip by its cord and hung up his call.

“You gon’ explain yourself?” you asked him impatiently.

“You’re bein’ mean, Brooke’s a safe date. Nothin’ to it,” he said, too nonchalantly.

“I’m being mea- Michael. Do you know how fucking exhausted I am? I’m sitting here wrapping shit up for you, to show up for you, for an award you’re winning, and you can’t keep your needy ass hands off of me to sleep for more than two fucking hours. I’ve been patient and calm with you and you decided to start acting like a fucking neglected puppy by pouting and being annoyingly loud and calling up a random ass model to be your ‘backup date.’ What the fuck is your goal, here? Because I can promise you I wasn’t you to touch me even less than I did earlier,” you ranted.

“She’s not a random model, she’s my close friend,” he responded calmly.

You just about lost it.

“That’s all you fuckin’ took from that? You know what? She so close to you, gon’ head and have her come along! Let her take all the important pictures with you too! And leave me the fuck alone for the night.”

The rest of the night, neither of you spoke to each other, save for him coming into your office quietly to say goodnight and check to see if you were actually set on sleeping on the sofa in there. You were. He gave you a kiss to your forehead as you pretended to be asleep, and softly closed its door.

The next day was super tense. You accompanied him to his childhood home in Encino for a get together his family was having. The two of you tried to appear as though everything was fine, holding onto each other, choosing the other as your teammate for board games, and even sharing the core of washing dishes. At one point, though, La Toya, his older sister, pulled you to the side and questioned you.

“Why are the two of you actin’ so weird? Y’all have your first fight?” she asked in soft voice.

“We’re fine, Toya. He’s still just nervous with me around the family, I guess,” you lied. You’d been together for over three years by now, so the fib made no sense, but she believed you anyway.

The night at home was spent identically to the previous one. Your back was in pain from sleeping on the small office couch, though, so you slept in bed this time.

“I love you,” he whispered as you settled into bed next to him.

“I love you too,” you responded hastily.

“Can we cuddle?” he asked hesitantly.

“Do you think you deserve a cuddle?” you asked him back. He sat in silence as you got your answer and drifted off to sleep.

Monday morning rolled along, and you were sick of the tension. After you finished showering and getting dressed for work, you headed to the kitchen to make Michael and yourself some breakfast as an olive branch. You expected to see him lazing in his favorite chair at the kitchen island, reading the paper. What you weren’t expecting was the handwritten note sitting in his place.

At a fitting with Q. See you when you’re home. — Applehead

Your stomach sunk and you decided to miss the most important meal of the day.

Michael knew he was wrong. He knew he was wrong to be loud when you were working. He knew he was wrong to offer another girl to be his date while his girl was standing right front of him. He knew it was wrong to write a note and not end it with an I love you. But, he couldn’t stop something deep in him for loving the tension this was creating, and for that, he knew he was even more wrong.

His fitting went by in what seemed like a blur, due to his brain being preoccupied. He would start feeling guilty for his then immediately get butterflies in his stomach the thought you open up and angry with him. Every officer ring he heard in dressing room would send some into knots, hoping it was you, but it wasn’t, and then he’d be ashamed again.

Brooke, his model friend, had turned up near the end for her own dress fitting for tomorrow night, and her presence distracted him just enough to appear normal again. They chatted about nonsense, and he stayed outside her door until she finished her fitting, offering to grab lunch with her at yours and his favorite lunch spot near home afterwards.

What a stupid idea.

You’d gotten off of work early because your duties at work weren’t needed. Your employees picked up extra work to keep ahead while you were taking time off for your boyfriend, and although you were grateful, you were upset because you had next to nothing to do. You stayed longer than you should’ve, and once you realized you were just wasting time, you headed out and decided to comfort yourself with lunch from your favorite place.

As soon as you walked into the restaurant, though, your heart flipped. Because standing in line in front of you was one of Michael’s security guards, ordering two meals. One of them was your boyfriend’s usual, and the other was unknown.

“Hi, Maurice! Is he here?” you asked him almost cheerily, he referring to Michael. You figured it was for Michael and Bill, and considered riding home with them and having Maurice take your car for you so you could catch up with Michael.

“Yep, he’s in the car out back. I can place your order too, if you’d like?” he offered politely.

“Yes, thank you! I’ll take my usual as well. Can you drive my car home for me, too?” you asked him, handing him your keys.

“No worries, hun. I’ll see you later.”

You snuck around the building and walked over to the car’s usual hiding place with an extra bounce in your step. You were ready to put the petty distance behind you and cuddle with your boyfriend again.

You opened the door without warning, and were met with a sourness so potent, you nearly hurled over and puked. She was there. And your boyfriend was sitting a little too close to her looking a little too comfortable.

“The fuck?” was all you could say.

“H-hi, baby. She’s just-”

“Brooke. Maurice will be here in a few minutes with my car. Tell him I said he could drive you home. Have a lovely day,” you interrupted him calmly. There was a pause. You raised your brow ever so slightly, and she exited this car with a quick apology. You slid in and took her place–your place– next to him, without a word.

“It’s not what you think. She just had her fitting after mine a-and I offered her lunch-”

“At our favorite spot,” you interrupted again, still too calmly.

“…Yes, but it’s just cuz I was cravin’ it-”

“And you didn’t leave a message to let me know she’d be with you. Nor did you think to let me know you were getting it so you could get some for me for later. Interesting.”

You could hear him stop breathing.

“And what was the fitting for, Michael? So she could be your date for tomorrow?”

“Wait. No, no you said-”

“You’re clueless. Bill, drive us home, please,” you asked evenly as you rolled the SUV’s partition halfway down. The fact that it was even up in the first place…You didn’t want to get into this in front of Bill, the situation already leaving you embarrassed. Fuck the food.

Unfortunately for Michael, your demeanor only egged him on. Because, yes. He knew that taking Brooke to your place wasn’t okay, and he knew offering her a ride home in his private car was disrespectful. He hadn’t expected you to be there, but that made it worse. You were so close to snapping, and he was so close to begging for it.

The car hadn’t even been fully brought to a stop before you were opening the door and yelling out a quick, “Thanks, Bill!” You intentionally let the door close in Michael’s face.

Michael couldn’t fight the shit-eating smirk that plastered across his face as he bid Bill a goodbye, the older man looking at him in pure confusion.

When he slowly slugged through the front door and walked the timid path to the dining room, savoring the tension, his breath was nearly taken away at the sight of you. You were fuming, your posture was unforgiving, hands clasped on the table like you were preparing to reprimand him, and you were beautiful.

“Sit down.”

His feet reacted before his mind could, and he sat in the chair directly across from you, waiting.

“Do you think this is a game to me?” you asked him in a tone so cool, his bones chilled.

“I’m not playin’ any game. I just thought it would be alright with you.”

Lie.

“Why would I be okay with knowing you’re still gettin’ her fitted for dresses and takin’ her to our favorite spot. Or with seein’ her in our car?”

“She’s my friend. I didn’t wanna uninvite her last minute.”

Lie.

“But you can invite her last minute? M’kay. And what exactly is she gonna be there for? To make me look like some side piece? To stroke your ego?”

To make you jealous, he wanted to say.

“To keep up appearances. She’s always been my gate to these sorta things. I don’t wanna discard her,” he responded instead.

“You’re okay with discarding me in the process though? Do you see how fucked up that is? I’m your girlfriend. Or is this your way of getting rid of me?” you asked him, your anger cracking through your calm facade.

“She’s still coming. The press is expecting her. They’re expecting both of you. Q’s gonna be with us too, so it’ll look like a group thing,” he tried to amend.

“Then I guess I’ll be Q’s date, and you can prance around with the pretty white model all night,” you added with a shrug, pushing your chair out and walking away.

“You’re being a little excessive, don’t you think?” he asked with panic laced into each word. He hadn’t expected you to turn it onto him, and you could tell. If he’d be petty, so would you.

“I’m just doing what you’re doing. I’ll be in my office on the phone planning my date with Quincy. Make sure to give us some privacy,” you said with a wink.

He was livid.

If there was anything about Michael that he kept pretty well hidden, it was his jealousy. He was insecure, especially with all the eyes on him constantly, so jealousy was a given. He was constantly comparing himself to the greatest of the greats, trying his hardest to live up to or even surpass them. He had self-esteem issues that stemmed from his first moment of sentience. But this? You proudly announcing that you were going to take his producer, someone he considered a close friend as your date to his event? It wrecked him. And maybe he deserved it, but that didn’t mean he was taking this lying down.

So, he decided to take it up a notch.

The day of the event was hectic. The two of you had taken your flight from LA to New York ona red eye and were completely exhausted. You had only two hours to check in to your hotel and get some sleep before tending to your busy schedules . You were expected to meet at his stylists’ studio to get your hair and makeup done before they put you into your outfits for the evening.

Immediately upon arrival, Brooke was sitting in a chair getting her hair primped and curled, much to your own annoyance.

“Hey, you two! Me being Michael’s date won’t be awkward, right? He told me you were okay with it, but I promise I can back out if it makes things weird,” she asked with an anticipation that read that she wanted you to say it was all good.

“Well, he said I was okay with it!” you replied, trying to conceal the sarcasm. “Besides, I’m Quincy’s date tonight. It’s all good.”

She beamed a little too excitedly for your liking.

You didn’t really have the time nor energy to pay her mind, so you tried to allow the chaos of the dressing room to consume your attention. You tried.

Michael, on the other hand, took it upon himself to make you as jealous as he felt. He spent the entire time allowing the model to occupy his personal space. He laughed loudly at jokes that weren’t funny at all, brushed invisible hair out of her eyes, and drank iced coffee from her straw. He didn’t even like coffee. Yet, you still wouldn’t pay him any mind.

You were too busy actually reveling in seeing the bustling inner workings of the entertainment industry. You were successful, sure, but you would never in a million years get to this status on your own. You managed to even start enjoying yourself when Quincy came along and started giving you advice on show business. At one point, he took you to the side to give you a deeper talk not meant for all those ears.

“I understand he can be a lil’…stubborn. But you have to understand, he don’t know how to handle bein’ the most famous person in the world at only 25 years old. And imagine trying to navigate your first real relationship through it all. Now, I’m not sayin’ what he’s doin’ is okay, but give him some grace,” Quincy lectured.

“Q, I am. But it’s like he’s testin’ me. Like he’s testin’ my love, our relationship. He’s doin’ all this affectionate shi- stuff with her like i’m not sitting right there, I don’t understand why.” You almost sounded defeated.

“Listen, he’s used to everyone listenin’ to what he says. He’s around yes men more than he’s ever been around people who will tell it to him straight. You’re the one true person who doesn’t tiptoe around what you need to say to him. And he’s obviously sensitive. He didn’t tell me much, he really only wrote things out on notes for some lyrics, but being told no by you confused him. He was grateful for it, but a part of him felt rejected.” He sighed, realizing the conversation went a little too deep for the time.

“But that’s a conversation the two of you need to have. Now, I’m entertainin’ y’all’s game tonight, but don’t bring me in the middle of this type of stuff no more. Or Brooke. I’ma get on him about that too.”

You embraced his larger torso, your posture filled with gratitude for the words he offered you. The two of you returned to the busier area hand in hand, and you gave him a peck to his glistening forehead as you made your way to the snack table. You felt a few sets of eyes on you.

Michael and the model had seen the whole thing. His mood visibly shifted from playful, to full on anger, to unreadable within seconds. Those were his lips.

In that moment, he fought with himself to not use the ones attached to his own face disrespectfully as well.

Maybe she’d finally put me in my place, a voice in the very back of his mind croaked into his cranium.

The energy inside the black SUV the 7 of you — Michael, Quincy, Brooke, 3 security guards, and yourself — rode together was noticeably stiff.

Quincy and the model kept up most of the conversation, trying to get you and Michael to chime in here and there. You felt guilty for how awkward the two of you were making things seem, so you tried ribbing with your boyfriend. He basically iced you out.

The flashes upon arrival were enough to allow yourself to tune out the noise in your head. Your small group was ushered in quickly, accompanied by your security, and the secret backstage pathway gave you something to focus on.

Michael gave a heartfelt and beautiful speech to commemorate his record win, and he actually saved a piece in it to honor you. Your entirely being visibly relaxed and filled with unadulterated adoration.

As he finished up his message, he called for Quincy to join him on the stage as well. You gave Q a hug and tried to kiss him on the cheek— the quick and awkward action ended in the peck landing in between his jaw and neck— and applauded cheerfully. As Quincy hugged Michael, you could see his face flash with a fleeting expression of discomfort that he quickly covered up.

When you all converged backstage, floating on the high of seeing a loved one be honored with such a notable prize, the room buzzed with a glittery noise of excited chatter. You kept trying to break away from conversations so that you could be by your boyfriend’s side, but he was engrossed in conversations left and right.

People were asking you about why he’d brought Brooke as his date if you were there, why her outfit matched his more than your own did, why you were letting him take photos with her kissing him. The last question snapped you out of your dissociation, as you followed the questioner’s eyes and saw the scene a few feet away from you.

He was gripping her by the waist and kissing her a little too closely to her jaw, throwing you a smirk as he caught your eyes. You swore you turned physically green with jealousy.

There was something you used to do whenever Michael would cross lines early on in your relationship. He was new to dating seriously, and you were new to being taken seriously, so you had to explain to him what was or wasn’t right to do in them, especially since he was used to taking whatever affection came his way as a star.

After one of his more particularly excessive displays of insecurity and jealousy, you came up with a method to keep Michael and yourself…grounded. You’d hold fingers up on your hand— or hands—, depending on how many seconds of leeway you were giving him before your mood soured, and you would put one down every second, essentially counting down how much time he had left.

In the beginning, you’d give him ten, allowing him time to get used to the action. Your default after the familiarity was five. You hadn’t needed to go lower than that, ever. He’d usually get the hint at the mets sight of your hand raised.

Right now, discreetly to everyone else’s eyes, but very visibly to his, you raised three fingers. He smirked and hugged her closer to him. You put one down. He briefly parted from your gaze as your second finger went down, to make eye contact with a camera. He faced you again, pointed to his cheek, and she gave him a kiss there. You put your last finger down, and watched with burning fury as he laughed heartily.

You politely trudged through the group of onlookers and perched your lips to Michael’s ear.

“It’s time to go.” The decisiveness in your low whisper sent a shiver down his spine that he covered up with a fake cough.

“All right, guys! Thank you again so much for being apart of my success, but I must leave now. I have a long flight ahead of me tomorrow!” he announced with enthusiasm. True enthusiasm. And with a lie — your flight wasn’t until Thursday.

He gave out hugs and handshakes, told Brooke to hold onto Quincy’s arm, and the four of you, protected by security, left the venue. You rode in separate vehicles this time; you with Michael, Brooke with two security guards, and Q with his own personal driver.

You said not a word to Michael as your vehicle trekked through large crowds and traffic. His arm was caged between one of your hands with a tight grip, and he shifted uncomfortable in his seat 22 times thoughout the ride.

As the two of you made your way to your room— walking through the vacant hotel that his team made sure would be completely unoccupied for your stay— you could hear nothing but the aggressive clunk of your chunky heels against the pristine marble floor.

You entered your suite first, already having your keycard prepared for entry, and sat down on one of the lounge chairs. Michael approached you hesitantly, but still very much excited.

“Explain yourself.”

Your voice was so direct, it even scared you a bit.

“I have nothin’ to explain. Why’d you wanna go?” he asked, feigning confusion.

“I’m not asking. Explain yourself,” you repeated. Your patience was wearing thin, and your body was already getting hot. You decided to remove your shoes, jewelry, and dress, ignoring the way Michael’s eyes shamelessly trailed over the way your tight boyshorts and camisole hugged your body.

“I don’t need to explain myself to anyone.” He invaded your personal space, and the scent of his cologne made you dizzy.

“Who do you think you’re talkin’ to like that? And who the hell do you think you are? Kissin’ up on some girl for photos when I’m right there, neglected. Ignoring me when I give you my warning count. What, you don’t respect me no more?” you spewed at him, pushing your pointed, manicured finger into his chest with every word.

“She’s not some girl,” he replied with defiance laced into his tone.

You wanted him out.

“Oh, I forgot! Your date. Your real girlfriend. Go head ‘n call her up then! Go stay with her at her hotel! I’m done with the fucking games. Was this your goal? You wanted me to snap? Well, there you go. I’m DONE.” you yelled in a fit of anger.

“Me? You kissed Quincy! Multiple times! You were holdin’ his hand and you kissed him on the neck in front of everyone!” he yelled back.

“First of all, you were the one acting like a damn crybaby all weekend. You started the bullshit with the loud phone calls and asking a supermodel to be your date instead of me! Then you took her to our lunch place! On top of that, you had the girl nearly in your lap in our car, without even knowing I’d see, and then you continued to bring her as a date! I was giving Q a platonic kiss on the cheek, as I’d do to anyone I see as super close to me. And the ‘neck kiss’ was a fuckin’ accident! We moved too quick, and I missed his cheek! But thanks for letting me know you considered the ones you gave Brooke as more than platonic,” you said as you got more up in his face.

“Don’t start shit and not know how to finish it, Michael. It’s pathetic.”

He looked at you in a mix of bewilderment and lust. Pathetic, he echoed in his mind and clasped his hands in front of his groin very conspicuously.

“This is fuckin’ turnin’ you on? Seriously? ‘N you have nothin’ to say? I’m hurt and you’re tryna cover up a boner. Wow.” You pushed past him and picked your belongings off the floor.

His eyes followed your body as you retreated from him, and he licked his lips at the sight of you bent over.

Facing him once more, you crossed your arms against your chest, and his gaze eyed the way your breasts visibly at the contact.

“Go.” He blinked at you, his brain seemingly unable to comprehend the command.

“Michael. Leave. Now. Go be with your dream girl,” you said as you grabbed onto his slender arm, needing him to your suite’s door.

His feet followed yours until his brain caught up, and then he planted them harshly onto the floor. You yanked and he didn’t budge.

“No.” His voice came out with such intensity, you nearly doubled over.

“I’m not asking you. Get the fuck out, Michael. I don’t want you near me right now.” You were shoving him out now, having dropped his arm and stomping behind him before you could stop yourself. “You don’t respect me.” Push. “You don’t take me seriously.” Push. “You probably fucking hate me.” Push.

Michael started to feel guilty. Had he really made you feel like that? He just wanted to work you up a bit, but this wasn’t what he meant.

“No, what?” His voice shook with regret.

You stopped and leaned your forehead against his back, taking in a huge breath.

“Then fucking explain yourself!” you demanded, lifting your head up to look at him as he turned around to face you.

“I don’t- I…” He took a deep breath. “Everyone looks to me for answers. They see me as a leader, as their authority, as a deity of sorts. As flattering as it is, I don’t want that! I want to be led sometimes. I want someone to take control of me. ‘N I love when you do! But I want more. I’m selfish. I’m greedy. I want to push your buttons and test your control with me. I dream about you making me do things for your pleasure. I crave for you to put me in my place and make me beg for you because I want to feel like I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve you.”

He grabbed onto your hands in an act of surrender and continued.

“Everything I did was wrong, I know that. That was the point. I felt rejected that mornin’ because you told me to stop. Then I wanted to make you feel bad because I felt bad. And I kept goin’ because-” He audibly gulped. “B-because…” He let go of your hands and slid them down your bare thighs, cupping the backs of them as he drooped down to his knees. His fingers left goosebumps on your legs in their wake.

“Punish me. Please. I deserve it. ‘N I’m so sorry. Please forgive me. I do respect you, and I do take you seriously.” He pressed a kiss to your left knee. “‘N I could never, ever hate you. You mean more to me than anything, by light years.” He was looking up at you from his position at your feet, eyes full of sorrow, sensuality, and pure love. You finally spoke.

“Get up.”

“N-no. Please, I don’t wanna go. *mwah*” He started kissing any skin he could reach; the tops of your feet, your shins, your thighs.

“I’m sorry. I don’t love her. I don’t love anyone that way but you!”

“I said get up.” Your voice was still surprisingly even, considering how many emotions were flooding through you in the moment.

“Baby-” You grabbed him by his sequined collar and yanked him with more strength than you meant to.

“Don’t make me say it again,” you nearly whispered.

He was on his feet in an instant, his head nearly colliding with yours at the swift movement. You let go of his collar and walked over to your suitcase, searching for something. You found the item and walked over to him with a leather belt in your hands.

Setting it down on the trunk at the end of one of the two beds in the room, you climbed onto the furniture, feeling the mattress sink beneath you. Your legs dangled over the side of the bed and you kicked them back and forth menacingly.

“You’re sorry? Show me, then. ‘Cause I don’t see it. All I see in front of me is a boy so selfish that he’d rather be a brat and hurt his own girlfriend’s feelings than say he wanted to be used.” Your tone was harsh, but you didn’t care. He wanted a punishment? He was getting it your way.

“Yes, I’m a selfish brat. H-how should I apologize? What do you want me to do?” he asked cautiously, eyeing the belt in front of you.

“Figure it out.” Your voice came out flat.

His face contorted into one of panic and need. He didn’t know what to do, but he needed this. He needed you. For the second time that night, he sunk to his knees, but this time, he started crawling towards you like a dehydrated man in the desert seeking water.

The absolute hunger in his eyes very slightly chipped at your resolve. You’d never felt more wanted in your life, and it was just by the unfiltered look in his eyes, which never left yours.

You could see him plan out his next move before he acted. He removed his shoes, socks, and stood up and took off his jeans, looking at you silently for permission before he even unzipped them. He then removed the sequined coat, and he was left in a plain t-shirt and boxers.

He met you back on his knees, and resumed kissing you from the feet up, like before. Every peck that met your hot skin was followed by an, “I’m sorry” or, “You’re perfect” or, “I adore you.”

His actions quickly became frantic. You weren’t responding at all, and he was getting nervous.

“Am I doing good?” he asked, basically begging you to say yes.

“Eh,” was your quick witted response. You were riding the high of the once cocky superstar now begging you to take control of him and accept his apology for being bad.

“‘M sorry. Please, can you spread your legs a bit? Wanna show you…”

You obliged, secretly craving for some sort of relief. You were pent up.

“Thank you.” He continued kissing up and between your thighs, licking them and whimpering like a wounded animal. He was getting closer and closer to your now pulsing heat, and an idea you had earlier sprinted to the direction of your mind as soon as his tongue darted to your clothed core.

“No. Take off your boxers ‘n get on the bed.”

Dazed, he followed your command and stripped himself of his undergarments, feeling slightly embarrassed by how visibly hard he was now.

“Get close to the top of it, take off your shirt, and put your arms up.”

He looked at you shocked, hesitating.

“Do I need to repeat myself?” you challenged with a raise of your brow.

“No, ma’am. ‘M sorry,” was his response as he obliged.

“That’s what I thought.”

You retrieved the belt from the trunk and slapped it intimidatingly against your palm as you paced in front of the bed. Michael’s arms were suspended above him on a myriad of pillows.

With steps as light as a ballerina’s, you walked up to the side of the bed he was on and leaned over his slender frame.

“Do you wanna touch me?” you asked lightly, a coyness drizzling from the question.

“Yes, of course. Th-that’s all I wanna do right now,” he responded immediately, like he wanted to give you the right answer. He did. You straddled his torso, making sure not to let your lower body touch his burning one at all, and began wrapping the belt around his wrists.

“Good. You can’t.” The disappointment that flooded his face was only more encouragement for you. You were on a power trip now.

“Please? Pretty please, I’ll do anythin’,” he pleaded.

“I know you will. You’re gonna do everything I say, understand? Then I’ll decide if you even deserve to touch me,” you quipped, tilting his face up to meet your eyes with your index finger. He was pouting.

“Okay.” His eyes trailed straight down to the inside of your tank top, and his eyes practically bulged out of their sockets.

“You look very pretty, by the way. Love this top on you,” he complimented in the most seductive tone you’d ever heard him use. You ignored how his voice made your heart skip two beats and mumbled out a “Hmm, thank you.”

You took your manicured nails and scratched down his chest just enough to welt them temporarily.

“A-ahh!” he yelped in pain— you felt his dick twitch —and pleasure.

“Aww, what’s the matter baby?” you fake coddled him.

“That…it hurt,” Michael responded in a way that sounded like he was trying to convince himself of the fact.

“But you liked it though.” You looked at him pretending to be dumbfounded.

“Yes,” he breathed out, as if you’d asked him a question.

Leaning towards his face, you tilted your head in a way that signaled you were going to kiss him. He tilted his own head and closed his eyes in anticipation, only to be met with a sharp nibble to his neck.

“P-please!” He had no idea what he was pleading for.

His wavering tone concerned you just a bit.

“What’s your color?” you asked him seriously.

“Green. Bright green. Really, really green..” He was having the time of his life, believe it or not.

“‘Kay. Lemme know if it’s too much. I care about you, even when I can’t fuckin’ stand you,” you reassured him.

Placing your hand on his neck, you began administering bites to his collarbones, feeling egged on every time he cried out.

“Mmm. I-i’m sorry. Please, I need you,” he began chanting over and over. You ignored him each time.

You noticed his eyes close in pleasure, and that just simply would not do for you. You choked him hard.

“Pay attention to me. I never gave you permission to look away,” you nearly yelled at him. You loosened your grip when his eyes started to unfocus.

Fighting down a fit of coughs, he apologized with a strained and weak, “I’m sorry, angel.”

As you started crawling down his body, you felt something wet and hard graze your ass cheek, and Michael genuinely screeched.

“Ahhh! M-my god…” Michael whined desperately.

You reached down and grabbed his neglected dick, and wiped the precum from the slit on his tip, bringing it up to your mouth and tasting it.

“Mmm, is that for me?” you teased.

“Y-es. All for you.” He was visibly trying his hardest to obey you and wait for your commands, but at the feeling of your warm finger in his flesh, and the sight of you tasting him just because you could, he wanted nothing more than for you to fuck him into oblivion.

“It better be.” You reached down to his erect shaft and gripped him very slightly, your palm almost ghosting over it. You decided on a tortuously slow stroke, from balls to tip, as you looked him deep in the eyes.

“Aww, you look so needy, baby. You want me to move faster, huh? Stroke you harder? Bet you can’t even form a coherent thought. Poor thing,” you said condescendingly.

“‘M not needy, a-and I can think- ahh,” he protested.

“Yes you are. Look how hard you’re trying to not move into my hand. I’m barely even touching you, baby. Why you sweatin’?”

You knew he pretended to hate it, but he grew attached to how it sounded coming from you in particular.

You groped harder and stroked just a bit faster.

“Unless you don’t like this? Which is it?” you demanded. You loved playing this mind game.

“U-um. I do li- ah!- like it..” he whined.

Stroking even faster, you demanded once again,

“So you’re needy. Say it.”

“I’m needy!” he wailed when you slowed down for his delayed response.

You squeezed his dick harshly.

“And don’t you fucking lie about it again,” you ordered.

You wanted to do more, you really did, but the sight of him completely naked and surrendered to your will while he looked at you as if your existence was the answer to his life… You needed him, bad. But he still hadn’t earned your forgiveness.

Letting go of his leaking boner and straddling his thigh, you quietly pleaded with yourself to not give off just how horny you were, as well.

“Sit up and watch me,” you instructed, grateful that your tone didn’t expose the desire growing between your legs.

He immediately obliged, and whined as soon as you began grinding.

“Y-yes, please use me. Oh, God!” he cried out, breathless. “You’re so pretty, oh my- I love you.”

“F-fuck, baby. You like when I use you this much, hmm? You look so good like this.” You could feel his thigh flex and its tendon hit your clit in just the right way. “A-aah! Fuuuuuck. Y-you’re so pathetic, just laying under me fully naked w-while I have clothes on. Just watching me and not even being able to t-touch me.”

“Yes. I’m so pathetic,” he mewled.

You gripped onto his neck to steady yourself better and rode his thigh faster and harder, the pent-up tension making your orgasm approach faster than you were ready for.

“And you’re f-fucking clueless. Can’t see when a supermodel is so openly hitting on you in front of your own girlfriend.” You choked him briefly at the memory.

“S-so clueless. Just stupid. I only exist for…I only exist for your pleasure.” He’s always wanted to say that, but feared it would’ve been too much of a turn off. You seemed to enjoy it though, since you started humping his leg so hard that he was sure you’d be bruised.

“The fuck you do,” was the last coherent thing you said for the next few moments.

You mumbled something that didn’t make sense, and crushed your lips to his. He nearly cried at the contact.

Your moans were spilling into his mouth much faster now, his sign that you were going to come undone on his thigh…after using him. He could cum with you at the thought.

“F-me…have to…” tumbled from your mouth. You were losing yourself.

“Baby? What do you need from me? I’ll do anything for you,” he responded, concerned.

“Wanna fuck, Mikey. F-fuck.” You showed yourself to a stop. Your thighs were trembling while you balanced yourself on the mattress on your knees as you took your top and boyshorts off.

“‘M so wet. Need you so bad,” you whined. You missed him. You wasted no time stalking him and sinking down into his shaft. He stretched you wide, even more so since it’d been a bit since you were intimate.

“Ohmygod ohmygod plea- Want you closer please!” Michael nearly sobbed. You laid flat against his chest, your breasts swished between your bodies.

“P-put your arms around me. Hug me close,” you instructed. The gangly man lowered his arms, still bound by the wrists, and squeezed you close like you were a piece of coal that could turn into a diamond. You guys would share skin in this moment, if you could. You looked up at him, your anger long subsided.

“I love you so much,” you declared passionately. He looked like he was going to cry.

“I love you, too. Can I please kiss you?” he inquired. You puckered your lips and he met them with fervor.

You began riding his dick at a controlled pace. Every grind brought him straight to your g-spot from this angle, and you wanted to last long enough to let him cum with you. You weren’t going to let him cum if he didn’t in time with you, but you wanted to forgive him.

Getting lost in the pleasure of the kiss and the friction to your cervix, he began meeting your grinds with gentle thrusts. Michael picked up the aggression once you’d dropped your head back onto his chest and ground him harder than before, a pool of drool sliding toward his nipple.

The room sounded like a porn studio. It was a mess of slapping skin and moans and cries out to higher powers. The bed was creaking beneath you so loudly, you both internally feared that it break. If the hotel was occupied by anybody one floor above or below you, they’d have heard it all.

“Michael. God. You’re s-so deep. Could ride your perfect dick forever… And you moan like a- song. Your voice is so pretty. You’re so pretty…” you cooed. You could feel that ball of tension build up inside of you again, and every push to your g-spot felt like it would be the one to unravel it.

“You’re pretty. Mmm, if you keep t-talking like that I’m gonna cum, angel,” he warned.

“I want you to, baby. You did so good for me. So good. F-fuck. I…My god, I can feel you everywhere. Wanna feel you cum in me. I’m yours, claim me. Please, I need it.” You’ve never said please like that to him a day in your life, but you were desperate. You wanted the proof of your mutual connection and relationship in any part of your body it could reach.

“I’ll give it to you. Gon-na cum inside because you’re mine. Please, cum with- ahh! I’m gonna…” he rambled.

Your hand was sandwiched between your bodies as you rubbed your clit and rocked your hips into his, chasing your high. Your vision was getting spotty, and you could hear his heart pounding hard enough to break his ribs through his chest. He was fully fucking up into you from below, but you didn’t even have half a mind to stop him.

“Baby, please…” he whined. The sheer yearning in his voice completely undid you. Squeezing his torso with all of your strength, you ground your clit against his pelvis and let his dick slide in and out of you as your orgasm suffocated you. You moaned and drooled and cried all over Michael’s chest, and you felt a warm, sticky substance paint the inside of your walls just moments after. He screamed out your name like it was a magical spell.

You maneuvered his sex out of you, and both of you watched as your shared cum mingled onto the hotel blanket below you. He bit his lip.

You were holding onto each other for dear life. The orgasms meant much more than just getting one off, they were shared apologies and washed away regrets. It took a moment for you to realize he was sniffling, too.

“I love you. I adore and cherish you. I’ll never do that again. You mean more than everything to me. Nothin’ I did was warranted, and I know now to be less selfish,” he apologized, his voice hoarse.

“I forgive you. I apologize for my part as well. Thank you for…taking all of that. Even though I was goin’ easy, still.”

“That was you goin’ easy? I’m terrified for your enemies,” he joked.

“Oh, yes. My cold shoulder is very threatening,” you ribbed. “Oh! Lift your arms up, baby. Lemme untie you.” You’d completely forgotten about his restraint. “And you didn’t complain once. Good job.”

“Thank you…” he replied shyly as you freed his wrists. “Honestly? I thought you were gonna hit me with it- the belt. That would be very…Can we try that one time?” he questioned.

Your body reacted almost immediately to the idea.

“Michael, don’t tempt me. I’ll make you go for a round two right now.”

“You can make me do whatever you want…You own me,” he challenged.

You never backed down from a challenge. Regaining your strength, you prepared yourselves to explore each others’ limits for the second time that night.

The harsh words, petty actions, and hurt feelings from the past weekend were all amended. You were each others’ only and true loves, just fighting to stay together in a world that was actively trying to turn everyone against him and tear you down. But, Michael never wanted anything more but for his entire being to be consumed by you.

To think this all started because Michael wanted to eat you like the last supper.

when you were younger, you never actually got the chance to meet janet's older brothers but it was only when you moved away to a different state and you saw how popular the jackson's became that you realised that your friend had fine ass brothers.

you remember having a crush on all of them, not knowing who to choose, but there was always one that stood out from the rest and that was michael.

it was just a coincidence that he turned out to be a bigger star than the rest of them, with him going solo and having the biggest selling album of all time.

you pull your car to a stop, pushing your sunglasses on top of your head before opening your car door.

just as you go to open up your trunk so you can get out your multiple suitcases, the door of hayvenhurst bursts open.

“you’re here!” janet squeals, running towards you and giving you a massive hug.

you laugh, hugging her back just as tightly.

“im so excited to be here. oh my gosh this place is much bigger in person.” you gawk, looking up at the massive lawn.

“ehhh you get used to it.” janet smiles, before looking at the multiple suitcases and bags that are stuffed into your trunk.

“girl did you pack your whole life in here?” she laughs, helping you take out your stuff.

“janet im here for six damn weeks, i need options.” you giggle.

“fair enough.” she nods, “i hope you have a lot of bikinis in there because we’re about to be by that pool all the time!” she raises a brow.

you give her a look that means ‘girl be so for real.’

she laughs at your facial expression, grabbing a few of your bags and helping you to the door.

“but seriously,” you start. “are you sure your mom is fine with me staying?” you ask.

“pff of course! mommy is more excited for you to stay than i am. she did say there needs to be more women in the house.” janet laughs, dropping one of your suitcases right by the door.

“what about your brothers, will they be fine with me staying?”

“who cares what they think?” janet shrugs. “plus this estate is big enough for us to never see their ugly faces.”

you laugh at her words, going back to your trunk so you can grab a few more bags. it does really feel like you packed your whole world in here. but you’d rather have too much clothes, than too little!

you jump when you hear janet scream at the top of her lungs. “randy! michael! come down here!”

“what?” janet shrugs, when she sees your expression. “we shouldn’t have to carry all of this by ourselves.”

“janet it’s fine.” you smile. “this is all technically my stuff so i should be the one carrying it all.”

“girl please, i have brothers for reasons like this one.” right as she says those words, randy comes round the corner followed by michael.

“did you really have to shout that loud?” randy raises a brow, putting his hands on his hips.

you stop in your tracks when your eyes find michael’s. he looks even more beautiful in person.

“who’s she?” michael’s questions, his voice so smooth and soft spoken that it feels like you’ve been wrapped in a blanket.

“she’s my friend.” janet smiles, “and she’s staying for the summer so be nice.”

“oh ill be nice alright.” randy says, his eyes trailing your body up and down.

you laugh at his words, pulling out another suitcase.

“now go help the girl, that’s what i called y’all down for.” janet says, pushing michael towards you.

randy sighs, coming towards you and helping you with your bags.

“what’s your name?” he asks.

you tell him your name, fixing your sunglasses that are trying to slip off of the top of your head.

“that’s a pretty name.” randy smirks, shaking your hand. but not before squeezing it gently.

“randy stop flirting with my friend, and michael,” you look over to see that michael still hasn’t moved from his position by the door, “stop gawking and go help randy!” janet huffs, bossing around her older brothers.

michael sighs, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, and walking over to your car so he can help with the bags.

the first thing you notice when he steps near you is his cologne.

how can a man smell so damn good.

“hi.” michael nods, holding his hand out for you to shake.

his hand is big, way bigger than yours and you look down at the warmth radiating from his palms.

“hi.” you say, sounding just a bit breathless. “thanks for helping with my stuff, i know it’s a lot but i’m here for the whole summer and i wanted to make sure that i had enough clothes…” you trail off when you see the amused look on janet, randy and even michael’s face.

your face starts to feel strangely warm at the realisation that you just word vomited in front of michael jackson.

randy let’s out a laugh in disbelief. “no way.”

michael stays silent, still gripping your hand, and still staring into your eyes like he’s trying to look into your soul.

“girl.” janet shakes her head, a smile forming on her face, “come and get your butt in this house so i can show you your room.”

“right!” you clear your throat, letting go of michael’s hand who still hasn’t moved, and making your way to the massive doors of hayvenhurst.

“thank you again by the way!” you say over your shoulder to the two men.

“just come on!” janet laughs, leading you into the large foyer.

“i just embarrassed myself didn’t i.” you let out a nervous laugh.

“why did you just spill your guts out there?” janet laughs. “and to michael of all people…”

“i don’t know,” you shrug, “he’s just so nice and…”

janet throws her head back in laughter. “oh my god you totally have a crush on michael.”

“wha— no!” you exclaim, following your friend as she leads you up a large staircase.

“you definitely do. i can’t wait to tell the rest of my brothers and la toya. i mean, i think randy already realised.”

“janet i don’t have a crush on him!” you shout, following her down a long hallway until eventually you both stop at a door.

“mhmm, sure you don’t.” she laughs, “well if you do then this will become a very interesting summer!”

“well i don’t. so there will be nothing interesting to see!” you cross your arms.

“okay!” janet holds her hands up in surrender. “anyways this is your room, my room is just down that hall, to the left and if you must know michael’s room is down that way, all the way at the end of the hall. you can’t miss it.”

“janet!” you gasp, pushing her shoulder playfully.

“okay! okay! ill stop.” she laughs. “but i’m really happy you’re here, you’re gonna enjoy yourself so much!”

“i cannot thank you enough for letting me be here this summer, i know we’re going to have so much fun.” you pull her into a hug.

“that we are!” she says, pulling away. “i mean hot girl summer, remember?”

“exactly that!” you both cackle, doing the handshake that you both learnt when you were both just little girls in school.

“i’m going to leave you here and see how the boys are doing with your overwhelming amount of bags, and you can just meet me downstairs at the pool in, ill say maybe an hour?”

you nod. “definitely! i’m going to take a quick shower because the drive here was long, and ill meet you by the pool, if i can even find where it is.” you laugh.

“okay then how about i meet you here in an hour so i can show you where the pool is because id hate for you to get lost on your first day here!” janet giggles.

“yes, that’ll be amazing.” you open your door, stepping inside. “thank you again, janet.” you say, before closing your door and realising that you may have fucked up by coming here.

because the whole time you were speaking to janet, the only person who was on your mind was michael freaking jackson.

“so…” randy smirks, leaning against your car with his arms crossed.

michael looks up at his younger brother in confusion. “what?”

“so what do you think about pretty girl… janet’s friend.”

michael shrugs, “nothing? i don’t even know her.”

“oh but i bet you wanna know her.” randy laughs.

michael scrunches up his face, “no i don’t. she’s not my friend, why would i want to get to know her? stop being stupid randy.”

“well she obviously likes you.” randy says, raising his eyebrow. “pretty girl never even gave me a second glance when she saw you.”

“she has a name.” michael huffs, crossing his arms.

“ohhhh!” randy cackles, pushing his brothers shoulder. “you don’t like me calling her that do you? getting a bit protective aren’t you mikey?”

“oh shut up.” michael mumbles, feeling his face start to burn up.

“just admit that you like her.” randy states.

“i don’t know her, randy. how can i like someone i don’t know?” michael exclaims, getting frustrated by his little brothers pestering.

“so you’re saying you don’t find her attractive?”

“i— i don’t…”

randy laughs at his brother fumbling over his own words.

“it’s okay to find a girl pretty mikey.” randy snickers, finding this whole situation comical.

michael’s face now feels hot to touch, because he does find you attractive, more than attractive and this is the first time he’s ever met you. so how on earth is he going to handle spending the whole summer with you?

“what are you guys just doing standing there?” michael hears janet call from the open door.

“we’re talkin!” randy yells back.

“well less talking and more carrying these bags upstairs for my girl!” janet stomps back into the house.

“i swear sometimes i wonder who’s worse, her or mother.” randy shakes his head, doing exactly what his baby sister is asking him to do.

michael on the other hand is distracted by you. the way you showed up in tiny tank top, showing a sliver of your smooth stomach, and jeans that hugged your arse so perfectly that he wonders if they were painted on.

he sighs in frustration, annoyed by his own mind.

he shouldn’t be thinking this way about another woman, especially not a woman that’s the same age as his damn sister.

but for some reason he can’t, his mind is engraved with the thought of you.

for the past couple of days, all you and janet have been doing is lazing around by the pool, painting each others nails, shopping, gossiping about ex boyfriends, and just having fun.

you never thought hayvenhurst could be this welcoming, and have such a homey feeling. and you also didn’t expect janet to be correct about the mansion being big enough that you won’t even see her brothers or anyone else for that matter, because you’ve actually hardly seen them.

this is only your second week here so far, and you’ve only caught a tiny glimpse of marlon when he was on his way out to a date, but that’s it.

it’s like they all have their own seperate bubbles in the estate and only come out when they feel like it.

that’s why it was such a shock that when you decided to come into the kitchen late at night to grab a bottle of water, you found michael sitting on a stool at the island, with a notebook and a glass of orange juice.

you nearly run back out of the kitchen and back to your room because not only is the one person who you can’t get out of your mind less than ten feet away but also because you’re alone… with him.

a man who has been in your dreams for as long as you can remember and now he’s just there, right in your reach.

you’re probably going to embarrass yourself again.

he still hasn’t noticed you by the door way, too busy scribbling down notes.

“hi.” you mumble, stepping into the kitchen and making a beeline straight for the fridge.

michael’s head pops up at the sound of your smooth, velvety voice and immediately takes in what you’re wearing. he tries not to let his eyes wander, but it’s hard to stay focused when he can make out your tiny pyjama shorts, that look like they just about cover your arse.

he clears his throat, ridding his mind of those filthy thoughts. “hi.” his mouth forms a tight lipped smile, before he ducks his head back down and tries to concentrate on his notebook filled with unfinished lyrics.

you feel a small pang of hurt in your chest at the feeling of being dismissed. you get it, you’re just a regular girl who happens to be his sisters bestfriend and also staying in his home for the summer, but he doesn’t even care that you’re here, at all.

honestly why would he? he probably has hundreds of women fawning over him and you think that out of all of them, you’ll be the one to catch his attention.

ugh, you hate that you’re so delusional and you hate that you can’t get him out of your fucking head.

“sorry.” you apologise, taking out a bottle of water from the fridge. “m’ just here to get water, i didn’t mean to disturb you.” you give him the same tight lipped smile that he gave you and start to make your way out of the kitchen.

“it’s okay.” his soft voice, stops you immediately. “you didn’t disturb me.”

you turn around immediately at his words, biting your bottom lip.

“are you not tired?” you ask, mentally face palming at the question. you just got an invitation to carry on a conversation with your biggest obsession and the first thing you ask him is that? “im sorry, that’s not what i meant, i mean… its late and you’re not in bed like everyone else.” you shrug.

you should really stop speaking. because it’s like the more you speak, the more embarrassing shit comes out your mouth.

michael let’s put a soft chuckle. “it’s okay. i find it hard to sleep at night sometimes, so instead of sleeping, i write down all the ideas that keep me up.”

you nod in understanding.

“why aren’t you sleeping?” you see him raise an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his lips and how he easily flipped the question back onto you.

“i- i was sleeping!” you sputter out.

“yet you’re here standing in front of me.” your mouth widens in shock at his bold words.

he normally seems so shy and secluded but you didn’t know that he could be so bold and dare you say, funny?

before you knew it you found yourself on the stool right beside him, talking, laughing and joking around like life long friends.

“you’re so funny!” you laugh, after recovering from a laugh attack that he just gave you. you swear you probably have abs from how hard he’s made you laugh.

he shrugs, a wide smile on his face.

and that’s when you realise that it’s already later than it was before, and you are getting a bit tired.

you yawn for what feels like the twentieth time, and that’s when michael realises you should probably go to bed.

he stands up, stretching out his legs. “c’mon.” he holds out his hand so you can help you off of the stool even though he doesn’t have to. but he is a gentleman after all. “you need to go to bed. you’re practically falling asleep sitting up.”

“i do.” you yawn. “i really enjoyed talking to you tonight mikey.” you give him a tired smile.

“mikey?” he raises a brow.

“yeah. short for michael, do you not like that?” you ask, wondering if you’ve overstepped a line. you may have just spoken to him for an hour straight but you’re still practically a nobody to him.

“i like when you say it.” he says, causing heat to creep up the back of your neck.

was that him just flirting with you?

“okay.” you nod, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. “ill call you that more often then.” you smile, grabbing your unopened bottle of water.

“goodnight mikey.” you whisper, leaving him standing at the kitchen island all by himself.

as you walk out of the kitchen, michael takes a deep breath.

he never wanted this. it was okay at first because he thought he could keep himself busy and avoid you. but now that he’s heard your laugh, heard your sassy comebacks, saw the way you looked so relaxed in his presence… he just may have fucked up.

because now he has to have you.

you and michael have sort of made a routine since that one night you both spent talking in the kitchen. it happened once, then again, then again until every single night after that, you found yourself in that kitchen talking to michael about how your day went, what you and janet got up too etc. and he did the same, talking to you about his demo’s that he showed quincy, telling you about how he went to visit a children’s hospital with bill so he could give them toys and read them stories.

you never thought you could become even more obsessed with someone. but michael is genuinely one of a kind. he’s quirky, has a good soul, loves to compliment you. at this point you’ll consider him your friend.

you remember trying to hide it from janet the first night but she saw underneath all of your lies and is aware that you want michael jackson… badly.

she wastes no time with teasing you about him every chance she gets, like now.

“i can practically see you drooling.” janet snickers.

you gasp, hitting her softly on her arm.

“that was so loud, what if he hears!” you exclaim, looking over at the pool where michael and his brothers are relaxing.

“oh please, he’s already staring at you.”

your neck snaps towards michael, who’s laying on a float, with his shirt unbuttoned and swim shorts. you can’t exactly see if he’s looking at you since he’s wearing his shades, and marlon seems to be saying something to him. but with the way his head is pointed in your direction, you can’t exactly rule out the fact that he might be looking at you.

you lean back on your sunbed, scoffing. “why would he even be staring at me?”

“because he likes you, and you unfortunately like him.” she makes a face in disgust, still trying to get over the fact that you have a massive crush on her brother.

you laugh, “it’s not unfortunate, he’s cute. really cute.”

she pretends to gag at your words. “okay i can just about deal with you having a crush on my brother, but i can’t and won’t sit here and listen to you absolutely drool over him.”

“you started it. you should’ve never said anything.” you say, watching the way randy jumps into the pool, splashing everyone even you a bit.

“damn it, randy.” janet yells, wiping her arms off with her towel that was hung at the back of her sunbed.

“that’s what happens when you girls refuse to get in the pool.” randy grins.

“im tanning.” janet holds up her middle finger, before settling back and closing her eyes.

“what about you pretty girl, you wanna come in the pool with us.” you laugh at the nickname randy has given you, because unfortunately from the first day he met you and he called you that, it’s seemed to have stuck.

“sure.” you shrug, taking off your shades and plopping them on your sunbed.

janet lifts her shades up and gives you a cheeky wink.

“stop it.” you laugh, taking off your cover up that’s wrapped around your waist.

you slip into the pool, and right away you’re getting splashed with water from randy.

“randy!” you squeal, splashing water back at him.

you shriek, swimming to the edge of the pool coincidentally next to michael and his float.

“quit it.” michael says to randy, when he sees you trying to get away from him.

“oh you hiding behind mikey now?” randy smirks, when you hide behind michael’s float.

your smile is so big that you’re surprised your cheeks ain’t aching, “i thought i was going to have a peaceful swim in the pool not for you to try and drown me!” you joke.

“that’s why i never go in the pool with them boys!” janet shouts from her sunbed.

“you could’ve warned me!” you shout back, still clutching onto the edge of michael’s float who is laying there unfazed by this whole thing.

“it’s okay pretty, ill get you back next time.” randy gives you a wink before getting absolutely dunked by marlon.

“and that’s what he gets.” michael whispers to himself but you overhear it.

“hey!” you look up at him, brushing some of your wet curls out of your face.

“hey,” he says softly, smiling down at you.

michael tracks the way you bite your lip nervously before opening up your mouth to speak.

“were you watching me over there?” you grin.

“i was.” he says, honestly.

“why?” you question, putting both of your hands on his float, right near his shoulder.

“‘cause you’re pretty.” your heart speeds up at his choice of words.

“you think so?” you ask boldly, you have no idea where this surge of boldness has came from.

“mhm.” he hums, his gaze dropping to your lips. a sudden silence takes over and you realise that your faces are much closer than they were before.

“will yall just kiss already!” marlon shouts, from across the pool.

the tension snaps, you both looking in marlon’s direction.

“that’s what im saying!” janet shouts, making you duck your head in embarrassment.

“you guys are annoying.” michael mutters, settling back onto his float. you were so entranced by him that you never realised that he was leaned over his float just so he could be close to you.

you shriek, when randy catches you off guard yet again with a splash of water.

“you know what!” you shake your head, deciding to splash him back with everything you got.

“wait wait— pretty m’sorry!” he pleads, when you don’t stop.

“that’s what you get!” you laugh, you look back at michael’s float after being distracted by randy for so long, only to see that his float is empty and he’s making his way back inside with a towel on his shoulder.

“where’s he going?” you ask, “it’s still hot outside?”

“he might be jealous...” marlon says, raising a brow towards you and randy.

“huh?” you ask, seeing randy and marlon laughing. “why would michael be jealous?”

“pretty girl, have you not seen the way he looks at you? that man is obsessed!”

you give randy a look in utter confusion. “i- we… we’re friends, i think? i mean i- i find him cute but he hasn’t made any move that suggests he feels the same about me?” you just about sputter out your words, heat creeping up your neck at the thought that michael may feel the same way about you.

he did call you pretty, so maybe that might mean something. but so does randy and there’s nothing romantic about that?

janet says your name with a groan, sitting up on her sunbed. “babe i love you, i really do but you’re acting really stupid right now.”

“what?” you exclaim.

“he likes you!” marlon says, “you really thought this whole time that this was him just being friendly?”

“yeah!” you shrug. “he’s a nice guy!”

“oh my god.” janet throws her hands in the air, dramatically. “girl you better get your butt in that house and search for your man.”

you nearly choke at her words, “he’s not my man!”

“well he wants to be, and i know you want him to be exactly that, so stop acting like you don’t!” janet says, you stay in the pool, staring at her and her brothers in utter bewilderment.

janet says your name, “go!”

you blink away your nerves, swallowing nervously and getting out of the pool with randy’s help.

“make sure he’s not too mad at me aight, i just wanted to give you both a little push,” randy winks at you, sending you into the hayvenhurst mansion in search of michael.

“michael!” you yell, wrapping your towel around your waist.

you check in the kitchen, no sight of him.

you check the living room, nope, not there.

you remember janet saying that his room is on the same floor as yours, just the last door down the hall, so you decide to trust her words and find his room.

you get to his door, knocking on it a few times. “michael! are you in there?” you ask.

“mikey!” you knock again, not hearing an answer.

you go to knock again, but the door opens revealing michael who looks utterly pissed.

you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this furious before, and you want to know why.

“can i come in?” you question, when he just stands at the door in silence.

he steps to the side, letting you come into his room. you look around, seeing albums and vinyls everywhere.

pictures and post it notes stuck to every wall, his room basically looks like a studio booth, just with a bed in the middle.

you turn around when you realise he’s still silent behind you.

“michael what’s wrong?” you ask him, sitting on the couch that’s opposite his bed.

“nothing.” he shrugs. “you didn’t need to come and look for me.”

“well i do because you’re brothers were saying that you were upset, did i do something?”

michael looks at you, really looks at you and sees the desperation in your eyes.

“you did nothing, there’s nothing wrong.” he repeats himself, sitting on the edge of his bed.

you sigh, standing up and sitting beside him. “mikey…” you whisper, trying to amp yourself up so you can ask him the question. you are hoping that janet, randy and marlon aren’t setting you up because if they are, what you’re about to say will be embarrassing. “were you jealous seeing me with randy?”

michael’s head snaps up, and the look in his eyes tells it all. “yes. i was.” he admits, truthfully.

your mouth opens in shock at his words, because they were right. janet, marlon and randy were right, he does feel the same way about you.

“i— i hated seeing you two laugh with each other, or the way he kept on calling you pretty girl and—” before you can stop yourself you lean up and press a deep kiss on his lips, stopping him from speaking. after the initial shock of the kiss vanishes, michael closes his eyes, his hand coming up to the back of your head so he can deepen the kiss.

you let out a small whimper in the kiss when michael gently pushes you down onto the bed so he’s now on top of you. you grip onto his unbuttoned shirt, pulling his mouth harder against yours, as you let his tongue push past your lips. the kiss is desperate, messy, filled with heat and lust. but at this point you don’t care, this is all you’ve needed from when you first saw him.

he breaks away from the kiss panting, his forehead dropping against yours. you give him a few light pecks, not wanting your lips to leave his.

“you don’t have to be jealous.” you pant, your hand coming up to tangle in his curls. “because all ive wanted is you.” this time michael is the one kissing you, his mouth shifting into a grin, kissing you like he just the thought of you makes him hungry.

you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling his body more firmly on top of yours. you gasp in his mouth, when you feel something thick and heavy pressed against your stomach.

michael realises, breaking away from the kiss and looking down to see a massive tent in his swim shorts. you immediately see the embarrassment on his face. “m’sorry,” he sits up and covers his face. “you— you just drive me insane and you’re so pretty and…”

“mikey.” you say, sitting up and pulling his hands from his face.

“it’s okay.” you smile, biting your bottom lip. you put your hand over his bulge, giving it a squeeze.

michael groans, dropping his head back.

“baby…” he moans, just by the light touch of your hand.

“do you want this?” you question.

“yes.” michael says quickly when your hand goes into his shorts, finding his hot and heavy length. “ive never… fuck,” he curses when you wrap your hand around him, your fingers not even touching all the way, “ive never done this before.”

him saying that shocks you because he’s older than you by a couple years, and while you’ve had boyfriends and have fucked a few times… he hasn’t.

you’ll be lying if you say that you being his first doesn’t make you wet.

“that’s okay.” you whisper, climbing off the bed and getting on your knees right in front of him. you pull him out of his shorts fully, gawking at the length and thickness of him.

“baby, you don’t have to—” michael groans, his eyes rolling back when you wrap your warm mouth around his fat tip. you open your mouth wider, trying to get as much of him in your mouth as possible.

you bob your head up and down, humming at the taste of him.

“oh…” he pants, swallowing hard when you look up at him, your eyes filled with lust. “this feels so good.”

you hum, opening your legs a little wider, your clit throbbing just from you sucking him off.

you take him into your mouth deeper, gagging when his tip reaches the back of your throat. you come off his dick with a pop, swirling your tongue around the tip, tasting all the pre cum that’s oozing out.

michael bucks his hips, when you put him back into your mouth, hollowing out your cheeks and bopping your head faster.

you feel his dick twitch in your throat, knowing that he’s so close, “oh gosh…baby!” michael whines. his mouth falling open in utter bliss.

“wait, wait!” michael pants, gently using your hair to pull you off of him.

you look up at him, spit dribbling down your chin, your eyes glossy with lust.

“come here,” michael says, pulling you up from your position on your knees.

“wha— mphhh!” michael kisses you, groaning when he tastes himself on your tongue and pulls you onto his lap so you’re right above his throbbing length.

“wanna feel you.” he mumbles against your lips. you nod, pulling your bikini bottoms to the side and feeling your wetness coating your fingers. you reach behind you, raising yourself up as high as you can, feeling his tip breach your entrance.

your mouth falls open, feeling the delicious stretch of his tip pushing inside of you.

michael pushes his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his moans.

you push your self down slowly, taking in every single thick inch of his length.

once you’re fully seated you pull michael’s face towards you, connecting your lips in a messy kiss.

you hold his face, staring into his eyes when you raise yourself up right to the tip and then drop yourself back down.

you moan, finding a steady rhythm and loving the feeling of his thickness stretching you open every time you reach the hilt of him.

“you feel so good,” michael gasps, leaning back on his hands and watching the way your pussy swallows him.

“hmm… so big. you’re so big.” you whine, bouncing faster and feeling that warm heat low in your stomach.

michael grips onto your hips, laying his back down on the mattress fully, even though his feet are still pressed on the floor.

you grind your hips, rubbing your clit and feeling the coil in your stomach tighten.

gripping your hips tighter, michael starts thrusting up into you, throwing his head back at the utter tightness and warmth of your cunt.

he swears he’s never felt such pleasure before in his life.

you shatter above him, flopping onto his chest, hearing his almost broken moans, while his thrusts quicken until you feel him push his whole length into you, feeling the warmth of his seed burst into your womb.

“holy shit.” is the first thing you hear, after the ringing in your ears subside.

you look up at him with a dazed smile, seeing how fucked out he looks.

his curls are sticking to his head, his eyes are completely glossed over. dare you say that he looks… reborn.

“i didn’t expect that to happen when i just came up here to check if you were okay.” you giggle, dropping your head back onto his chest.

“me neither.” he chuckles, “but im glad it happened.”

“really?” you say.

“definitely. ive been wanting to do that since i saw you.”

you hide your face in his neck, feeling embarrassed after you’ve already rode the fuck out of him.

“mikey.” you giggle.

he drops his head down, giving you a kiss on your temple. “im serious though, i didn’t like the way randy was all over you.”

you laugh, “he said he was just doing that so he could give us a little push and now you have to thank him because it worked!” you gesture between the two of you.

“nah i ain’t ever thanking that big head.” michael grins, rubbing a hand up your back.

you smile, leaning up to kiss him deeply.

who knew staying at your bestfriend’s home would have you shackling up with her older brother.

“you think they’re both okay up there? should i go and check on her?” janet asks her brother’s, who have long since came out of the pool and are just playing catch with a beach ball.

marlon snickers, shaking his head. “if you know what’s better for you baby sis, you better leave that girl alone until tomorrow morning. she ain’t coming down anytime soon.”

randy laughs, shaking marlon’s hand.

janet’s eyebrows furrow in confusion at what they’re getting at. after a couple moments of thinking it over, she nearly throws up at the thought. “ew gross! don’t be saying that marlon!” she shouts, throwing a towel at his head.

“you did ask!” marlon cackles.

“yeah right!” janet pouts, knowing that as disgusting as it is, marlon is right and now she’s unfortunately going to have to share you with michael.

because knowing you and knowing michael, you both aren’t letting each other go.

tags: @loveposiie @delictezz @crystal-love46 @bluegangstaaaa @alohaluz @raefoxiegirl @xoxogossipgirl02 @khxna @jxngwons-pinkyy @sofisidera @animegamerfox @its-jennarose @anglfac @michaeljacksonfan01 @a-motherfcking-fish @carmykisses @cal3xx @cinnaqm @mikeyspyt @sugacor3 @starstruckivory @michaelsgirlie @mililahchapter21 @galiixoxo @cannonindeez @griddypops @monoigirl @softchaosdiary505 @mjsfinestfish @catash + add yourself here!

Morning came quickly, and with it, Fire Lord Zuko.

Sokka, Katara, and Toph had come to greet him at the harbor, and while they did think to call Aang, knowing him to be an early riser, they just guessed he would be occupied with his wife. 

Zuko walked alongside them, his presence drawing the occasional glance, though far less than it might have elsewhere. Here, in the Republic City, titles blended more easily into the crowd, and even a Fire Lord could pass through without bringing everything to a halt. 

His attention remained forward, though it shifted slightly at the way the others had been speaking since he arrived; their awkwardness was blatant.

And when he had asked where Aang was, it was Sokka who finally said it outright, unable to hold it in any longer.

"He's married."

Zuko slowed half a step, eyes widening at the revelation. He was expecting an 'Oh, he slept in!' or 'He's busy with Avatar stuff, y'know?', but this was the most unlikely answer to the question he had asked.

"What?" he repeated, the surprise clear.

"Yup. He came back yesterday with a suspicious-looking lady, and then he introduced her as his wife!" 

Sokka spoke animatedly, which really didn't help his case while explaining something that was already hard to believe.

"Oh. Good for him."

Zuko's reaction landed poorly. Sokka turned toward him immediately, incredulity written plainly across his face. 

"Good? How is that your takeaway from this?"

Zuko frowned slightly, not in a defensive manner, but genuinely confused by the response. 

"He's married," he said, as though that alone should explain it. "What's not to be happy about?"

Sokka stared at him for a second longer before his face shifted. Without saying anything, he tilted his head just enough, his gaze flicking briefly toward Katara.

Zuko understood, sparing a small glance at the Waterbender. He did not comment on it so as to not acknowledge the implication aloud.

So he spoke again, not entirely changing the topic but not dwelling on the previous conversation.

"What is she like?" he asked.

Toph gave a small shrug, her posture loose, though her answer came like she had it ready. "Couldn't tell you much. She barely spoke."

"She was all gloomy." Sokka added.

"That's not true Sokka, she was just tired." Katara said, and the fact that she spoke at all drew their attention immediately.

"She's..." Katara paused for a second, then continued, "she's beautiful."

Everyone visibly faltered in their steps, making Katara let out an exasperated sigh. 

"Can you guys please stop? I'm fine, alright?" she said, a quiet firmness entering her voice as she looked at them.

"Can you stop looking at me like that? It's like you're walking around eggshells whenever you talk about Aang."

No one responded. Frankly, they didn't know what to say.

"There's nothing wrong," she continued, voice softer now. "He's happy. And nothing makes me happier than that."

Zuko drew a quiet breath, feeling the air grow awkward by the second, so he spoke— 

"Where is his wife from—"

He couldn't finish.

Sokka's attention snapped elsewhere mid-step, his hand lifting abruptly as he pointed across the street, his voice cutting through Zuko's question.

"Look! There's Aang...woah."

All of them (except Toph) followed his line of sight, and there, moving through the street were you and Aang.

You walked beside him, your arm encircled around one of his. Aang greeted those around him with the same open warmth he always had, children waving as he passed, some giving a gentle bow.

But it was not Aang that had held their attention.

It was you.

The difference from the day before was unmistakable.

Where you had once appeared in plain robes, you now stood adorned in the finest of fabrics, silks that caught the light in all their glory, draped carefully over your form. 

Delicate jewelry framed you, resting at your neck, your ears, your wrists, your hands, even woven into your hair, each placed with grace as though they were a part of you.

It was a stark contrast. Not only to what you had worn the day before, but to him.

Aang, in his simple robes, untouched by ornaments except for his prayer beads and the Air Nomads symbol he wore proudly, stood beside you without any attempt to match you in your regal ensemble. 

It felt...unexpected.

The distance between all of you closed naturally, meeting the group halfway.

You had inclined your head slightly, offering a small bow in greeting, as Aang excitedly greeted his friends. 

He left your side momentarily, moving to give Zuko a hug after not having seen him for over a year now. 

Once Aang returned to your side, you finally spoke, and it felt as though they were hearing your voice for the first time.

"It is an honor to be in the presence of the Fire Lord," you said, your tone refined. "I have heard of your tales and your journey from my husband. It is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Your gaze rested on Zuko trying not to linger on the scar across his face. Simultaneously, Zuko took in every inch of you with a quick skim.

There was a confidence in the way you held yourself, in the way you walked, even in the way you spoke.  The structure of your speech, the practiced tone, the accustomed comfort of status. 

It was unmistakable, and Zuko took note of it easily.

You carried the weight of upbringing, much like himself. You carried royalty.

He inclined his head slightly in return, his response just as respectful.

"The honor is mine," he said.

Your attention shifted then, moving to the others.

"It is good to see you all again," you continued, offering a small smile that did not overreach. 

"I apologize if my company yesterday was lacking. I had been traveling for days without pause, and though I would have preferred to settle into our home sooner, I understood that Aang wished to make up for lost time."

At that, you glanced back at Aang, and he met your look with a sheepish grin, one hand lifting to the back of his head in a gesture far too familiar to everyone there.

"Sorry," he said lightly. "I was just really excited."

His hand dropped soon after, settling over yours where it rested against his arm. You only shook your head faintly, your smile remaining. 

"There is no need to apologize." Then your gaze shifted again.

"You are Katara, correct?" you spoke, turning to the Water Tribe girl.

The moment you spoke her name, you felt Aang flinch against you, your eyes snapping to your connected hands before returning to Katara.

"...Yes?" Katara answered with a question hidden beneath it.

"The food you prepared yesterday was lovely," you said. "I am grateful for the effort you put into hosting us on such short notice."

Katara blinked once, caught off guard by the sincerity of it.

"Oh...that..." she said, her words settling unevenly before she steadied them. "It was my pleasure."

You nodded slightly in acknowledgment before continuing.

"I understand from Aang that we are to gather at your home again this evening."

"Yes," Katara replied, more certain with her voice now. "I'll have everything ready by eight."

"I see," you said. "Aang and I shall arrive earlier to assist you."

Katara's response came quickly, almost like a reflex. "Oh, there's no need for that—"

"I insist," you said gently, and although you had just met, the finality in your words left little room for refusal.

 "We will be there at six. Won't we, Aang?"

There was the smallest pause before Aang glanced at you, then back at the others, his smile returning easily. 

"Yeah, Katara, we want to help."

"We'll be there too," Sokka added quickly, his words coming out faster than intended. He wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt, but something about your presence at Katara's home unsettled him.

"I will join as well," Zuko said, his voice steady, his gaze returning to you with quiet interest.

Toph let out a small huff. "I'd offer, but—"

"You're coming anyway," Sokka cut in immediately.

A quiet laugh passed between them, light enough to ease the moment.

Aang shifted, his attention returning to you as he remembered his agenda for the day.

"I promised to show her around," he stated, the grin stretching across his face in excitement.

"I'll see you guys at noon!" he said, before guiding you forward once more, his hand engulfing yours as he pulled you along with him.

By the time the sun had reached its peak, the earlier bustle smoothed beneath the midday heat. As promised, Aang had left to meet his friends. He had left you at home not long before, trusting you to settle in at your own pace.

He found Appa waiting, ever patient, as he climbed onto his back, Momo already darting up to join him, settling on his shoulder. The flight was short, and it did not take long before the city gave way to an open stretch of land just beyond the outskirts of the city, leading uphill to a stumped cliff.

His friends were already there, waiting for him. Aang was excited to spend some time with them. He had sensed your presence make them feel awkward around him, so he thought this might come as a good opportunity to ease their friends into his new marital life.

Sokka stood close to the edge, his posture restless even as he was still, while Katara remained close by, her attention shifting at the sound of Appa's descent. Toph sat relaxed, floating a few rocks in the palm of her hand, and beside them stood Zuko, his presence quieter than the group.

Appa landed and the wind settled around them as Aang stepped down, and Momo wasted no time in leaping off after him to greet the others.

His gaze moved across them, a small smile forming. It felt nice to have the group back together. And he hoped for you to gently be included in the future.

His friends on the other hand, had a different plan They trusted him. That much had never been in question. But even their trust was wavering as curiosity came knocking down those carefully built walls.

The scheme had been made before he arrived. It was simple. Get information out of Aang. Simple. 

And perhaps if they had asked straightforwardly, Aang wouldn't have denied them. 

But Sokka just had to ruin it all by starting off the conversation with—

"You know, Aang, you really shouldn't let your wife walk around dressed like that. Isn't she supposed to wear your monk robes now? What even was that?"

He let out a short laugh, the sound landing unevenly against the quiet of the hill.

Aang's expression shifted, his easy grin dropping so dramatically, they were sure the entire city felt the pressure in the air drop.

Beside Sokka, Toph let out a sharp exhale, her hand coming up to her face in immediate exasperation. 

Katara did not hesitate, a quick motion of her hand sending a splash of water directly into Sokka's face with enough force to deliver a slap.

"Hey—!" Sokka sputtered, wiping at his face as he turned toward her, ready to argue, but Aang's voice came sooner than his.

"What are you trying to say, Sokka?"

Aang looked as though he would lash out, but he didn't. His voice wasn't loud, and it didn't need to be to feel the growing anger beneath it.

The tension followed, unsettling them all. For a brief moment no one spoke, because this had been uncalled for.  None of them wanted their 'reunion' to start on a bad note, much less end on it. 

So Zuko gives an attempt to salvage it in the easiest way he could think of. Throw Sokka under the bus.

"That was very rude, Sokka," he said. His gaze moved briefly toward Sokka before returning forward. "Why should Aang have a say in what his wife chooses to wear?"

There was a pause before he continued, his voice lowering to soften the weight of what he was going to say.

"Besides..." he added, the word carrying a hesitation he did not fully understand, "I think she looked rather...beautiful."

The last word came slower than the rest, and though his expression remained composed, something in him had bloomed.

Katara had been correct in describing you.

Zuko's dilemma went unnoticed by everyone else, slipping beneath the surface without acknowledgment.

"Yeah, whatever," Sokka says, brushing off Zuko's scolding with an edge in his voice.

"I'm just saying, Aang, if people see the your wife walking around dressed like that, they're going to start talking. You're the Avatar for Spirit's sake! No one's even heard of her before, and suddenly she shows up with you looking like that? People are going to assume things."

He didn't stop there.

"They might think she just married you to—"

"I beg of you to stop talking!" Toph cut in loudly, her tone sharp not only from annoyance but also concern

She could feel it, the subtle rise of rage encircling the area where Aang was sitting. Sokka threw his hands up slightly, frustration quick to follow. 

"Hey, I don't mean it in a bad way! I want what's best for him."

The words did not land the way he had intended them to.

Somewhere in Aang's mind, he knew that Sokka would be a challenge. He knew Sokka would not be accepting to your presence, always having been the sensible one in the team. But the horrible implications he made about you were too much.

Yes, he had expected for Sokka to be unwelcoming, but he didn't think he would stoop so low to imply something so vile.

Aang moved before he realized, words spewing from his mouth as he still fought to hold back his anger.

"My wife," he said, the words coming out sharp, an unfamiliar tone that did not belong in their usual conversations, "left her home for me."

He rose to his feet as he spoke, the motion slow as his presence shifted with it.

"She chose to come with me to a city she doesn't know, to be around people she's never met, and the only things she has from her home are what she brought with her."

Sokka unconsciously took a step back, and even though Aang was further away the distance was evidently closing.

"If she wants to wear them, she will," Aang continued, "And if she wants more, then I will give them to her."

He took another step forward.

"That's her choice," he said. "Hers. Not mine. And definitely not yours, Sokka."

The space between them closed completely, and Sokka watched the boy he once towered over meet him eye to eye, where he could see that he had definitely struck a huge nerve.

Toph was on her feet, stepping close, her hand lifting slightly just in case.

"Whoa, easy, Twinkle Toes," she said, her tone lighter than the tension warranted. "Sokka's just being Sokka. Don't let it get to you."

"Yes, Aang, he's talking nonsense," Katara added quickly as she shot her brother a sharp look.

Zuko remained where he was, silent.

"It didn't sound like nonsense to me," Aang said, and in a single motion that came as quick as lightning, his hand caught the front of Sokka's collar, gripping it firmly to pull him slightly off balance.

"Do we have a problem, Sokka?"

The man in question gritted his teeth, his brain telling him to end the fight and apologize, but instead he chose to bite back just as fiercely.

"Yeah," Sokka shot back, the restraint he had been holding slipping away. "I do have a fucking problem."

Aang’s face twisted more, but he let the older man continue, understanding this wasn’t something as shallow as about what you wore.

"You disappear without a word for months, and then you come back married?" His voice rose and the frustration in it no longer contained. 

"We're your friends, Aang! We're supposed to be your closest friends. Don't you think that's something you should've mentioned?"

Aang's jaw tightened, his grip still firm. He heard what Sokka was saying, and as much as he understood the weight behind it, Sokka's previous words, the way you had been spoken about, refused to settle.

Neither of them moved. But then Katara stepped in, her hand pushing against Aang's arm.

"Aang, let him go."

Toph was already there beside her, offering her silent support.

He let go.

Sokka stumbled back half a step, adjusting his shirt with a quick, irritated motion, watching as Aang spoke.

"It just... happened," Aang said, his voice quieter now, though the edge remained beneath it. "I don't always have the time to send out a letter for every little thing."

"Every little thing?" Sokka repeated, disbelief cutting through the words. "You got married. How is that something little?"

"Stop it, Sokka," Katara said, but he didn't stop.

"No," Sokka said, shaking his head, the frustration still too close to the surface to be dismissed. 

"I will be honest, Aang. I do not like your wife."

The words landed harder than anything else he had said before.

"I know you're hiding something," he continued, his voice lower now. "And you can't even be honest about it with your own friends."

Something in Aang snapped.

"Maybe," he said, "you should realize for once that you don't need to know everything!"

Sokka held his gaze for only a second longer before he let out a frustrated breath, the anger in him growing.

"Forget it." he muttered, turning away abruptly.

He didn't look back.

"Fuck this. I'm done."

He started walking down the slope without waiting for a response, his steps quick as he stopped for no one.

Katara hesitated only briefly, glancing back at Aang momentarily, before following Sokka, her hand catching Toph's arm and pulling her along with her despite the protests that came from it.

"Hey! I can walk on my own—"

And within moments, they were gone, leaving Aang and the Fire Lord behind.

The wind moved across the hill, filling the silence as it brushed through the grass.

Appa approached first, lowering his head to nudge against Aang in an attempt to cheer him up. Momo followed him, settling near him with a soft chirp before climbing closer, pressing himself to his side.

Aang did not move them away. He let himself settle onto the grass instead, the tension still present in his posture. His gaze remained fixed somewhere else, thoughts going haywire, wondering how quickly it all went downhill.

Beside him, Zuko lowered himself to sit as well. He did not press, did not interrupt, allowing Aang to process the situation at his own pace.

Time passed in silence for a while, then, eventually, Zuko spoke.

"I do not mean to pry," he began, his tone slightly tentative. "but is your wife of royal birth?"

The question was not meant to be intrusive, but it felt as though it was, so Aang did not answer immediately.

For a moment, there was only the wind again, moving through the space between them.

Then—

"Noble," he said.

Zuko nodded his head slightly, accepting the answer for what it was, though his thoughts did not stop there.

"From where?" he asked after a moment.

Aang's gaze did not shift.

"A smaller nation close to the Earth Kingdom."

The explanation ended there and Zuko didn't ask anything more.

He understood restraint well enough to recognize it in others, and whatever was unsaid, he let it remain that way. Aang wouldn't go to such lengths if it wasn't important.

"I hope that you can find it in yourself to forgive Sokka."  Zuko said after a moment.

Aang's expression did not change, though is posture softened at the though of his oldest friend.

"Only if he apologizes," he replied.

"Well...yes. Of course." Zuko assured.

Evening settled in fully by the time they gathered again, the sky dimming into a softer hue that filtered through the open windows of Katara's home. 

Everyone had arrived at six, just as promised.

All except Sokka.

You stood beside Aang and Zuko in the kitchen, your hands occupied with small tasks Katara had asked each of you to do, easily settling into the mood for preparation. Aang moved beside you, while Zuko did his best to assist. 

In the living section of the room, Toph had claimed the couch entirely, stretched out without any concern.

The conversations moved easy enough. You weren't much involved in the talking part, and you hadn't notice the underlying conflict between the group.

By the time you glanced up again, the light outside had shifted further, and the absence of a certain someone was all too blaring.

"Will Sokka be joining us at eight after all?" you asked, your tone unassuming, though the question itself stilled the room.

The discussions through the room came to a halt, taking you off guard by the sudden silence.

Aang answered before anyone else could.

"Do not worry about Sokka," he said too quickly, and though the edge in his voice was subtle, it was enough to make you take note that something was wrong.

You turned slightly toward him, your hand lifting instinctively to rest against his arm.

"Is everything alright?"

"Mhm." He gave an unsure hum.

"What he means is, Sokka is—"

Katara began, but she did not finish.

The door opened.

"I'm here."

Sokka stepped in without ceremony, the spare key tossed carelessly onto the counter with a small clatter that cut through the air.

"Sorry I'm late," he added, already moving across the room, dropping himself onto the couch beside Toph, who barely shifted at his presence.

"I'm glad you could you make it, Sokka." You greeted politely, but got no response. 

"Would you like to help us out?" You prodded yet again, only to be met with a—

"In a minute. I just got here." 

His words shut you up as you frowned at his behavior. He was very unlike the Sokka Aang had once described to you.

"If you're just going to be lazy, then come back at eight." Aang's voice came sharp this time.

He swiftly turned his back to the living area as he moved toward the stove, focusing instead on the task in front of him.

The room stilled again.

You glanced between them, and after a brief pause, you simply stepped after Aang, returning to your place beside him, your hands resuming their quiet work, peeling through the peas with careful attention.

Katara watched for only a second longer before she exhaled softly.

"I'll be back," she said, and her gaze lingered on Aang for a moment before she turned away, stepping out of the kitchen and into the living area.

Zuko noticed the way the space between you and Aang had closed again, your voices lowering for something private, so he followed Katara's lead, stepping away to give you both some distance without making it obvious.

In the living area, Sokka leaned back against the couch, his earlier frustration still present beneath the surface.

Katara did not sit. She stood in front of him, her arms folding as her voice dropped.

"You need to apologize to him."

"I will," Sokka said, almost immediately, his voice riddled with guilt. "Of course I will."

There was a pause.

Then he added, "But you can't tell me you don't agree with me."

"I don't."

Zuko's voice cut in before Katara could respond.

"I think she is rather lovely."

Sokka let out a short, incredulous breath, turning toward him with a look that bordered on disbelief.

"Okay, stop with the compliments," he snapped. "It's weird coming from you."

Toph pushed herself up slightly on her elbows, a grin pulling at her expression.

"Oh, this is interesting," she said, her tone carrying that familiar edge of amusement. "Has Zuko taken an interest in the missus?"

"Nonsense," Zuko replied immediately. "I am stating what is obvious. They suit each other."

His gaze shifted then, drawn back toward the kitchen as the others followed.

Through the open space, they could see the two of you clearly. Aang standing close you, speaking in hushed whispers and big smiles.

Perhaps he says something funny, because you reached for him, your hand lifting to land a playful slap on his shoulder, only for him to catch it before it landed.

His fingers closed around yours as he brought your hand upward planting a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Katara looked away first, and her gaze shifted sharply, her focus fixing elsewhere as she tries not to dwell on what she just saw.

"Come on, Zuko," she said. "We still have dinner to finish."

She did not wait for a response, already turning back toward the kitchen. Zuko followed shortly after, stepping away and leaving Toph and Sokka alone.

It was nightfall by the time dinner ended. The table had been cleared, dishes left soaking, and a bottle of wine had been opened for those who wanted it, though tonight it was only Toph and Zuko who indulged. 

Sokka had declined, his reason simple. He wanted to keep a clear head for what he had to do.

He had to apologize.

So he stood outside on the balcony with Aang, the doors shut behind them, their voices muffled by the glass, leaving the rest of the house quieter.

You did not remain in the living area.

The unfamiliarity of his friends still remained, so when Aang stepped away, you excused yourself with the pretense of needing water. The kitchen welcomed you back as you sat upon the open counter, a glass in your hand.

Zuko noticed.

He had been seated in the living area, his attention divided between the balcony and you. Your absence had settled firmly in his awareness. 

Katara and Toph remained focused on the figures outside, so he rose without announcement. The soft sound of his steps did not reach you until he was already there, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand.

"Do you not drink?"

His voice broke through your thoughts as you looked up, pulled back into the present.

"Oh...I used to, my father would allow me a couple sips during dinner." you said, smiling fondly at the memory, but instantly a scowl tainted your face, as though you had remembered something foul. 

"I abstain now that I have married Aang." You ended, smile returning.

"Did he ask you to do that?"

"No," you answered. "I chose to. Out of respect for my husband's culture."

There was a pause.

"How...thoughtful," Zuko said, voice trailing off.

You weren't sure of the Fire Lord's motives in approaching you, but you decided to make the best of the situation. 

"May I ask what happened between him and Sokka?" you questioned, your eyes meeting his in confidence. Zuko was sure you were examining for even the slightest nuance.

Zuko did not answer immediately, knowing it wasn't his place.

"I think it would be better if it came from Aang," he replied at last.

Your expression did not change.

"What difference does it make, Fire Lord Zuko, if you were the one to tell me?"

"The difference lies in trust," he said. "You may not take my words lightly if they come from me, and I would prefer that there be no unnecessary conflict between us."

"And you suspect there will be," you said, not as a question.

Zuko exhaled faintly.

"I believe there would be," he admitted. "Because unlike Aang, I would not soften what was said."

A small sound left you then, something close to a laugh but not entirely one.

"I may not have known Aang for as long you have, but even I know that Aang is not one to gain a temper against his friends so easily. At least, not anymore."

"You would be surprised at his younger self." He humors.

You chuckle, but your fingers tightened slightly around the glass.

"Then maybe you can tell me this," you continued, your voice lowering. 

"Was the reason of their fight, me?"

Zuko hesitated.

"...You could say that."

"Was I insulted in my husband's presence?"

His silence was answer enough.

"Pray tell," you said, the calm in your voice almost poisonous. "what exactly was said?"

"Many things," he replied. "Things I would hope you take with a grain of salt, since it came from Sokka."

"Funny."

You did not remain where you were.

The glass was set aside, forgotten, as you stepped down from the counter, closing the distance until you stood before him, your gaze lifting to meet his.

"Aang spoke to me about you. I didn't even know he was friends with you until yesterday."

"That's surprising, considering everyone knows of the Avatar's feat of ending the 100 year war, including my involvement."

"I didn't think to connect the dots."

"Hmm."

"He told me about how you met. A very endearing story. The lengths one goes to for their honor." 

Zuko couldn't tell if that was meant to mock him, but that phase of his life still remained something he was ashamed of, so the frown on his face was inevitable.

"Do not be upset. I didn't mean it as an insult. I'm only mentioning it because it's something I can agree with."

You clarify, setting the cup of water down onto the counter before continuing. 

"Which is why I figure you will understand that," you paused, your voice steady as you finished your sentence. "My honor is not something I treat lightly. It is very dear to me."

You stepped even closer, the space between you narrowing until it left little room for anything else.

Zuko did not speak.

There was something in the way you held yourself despite the quiet fracture beginning to show, that felt familiar. It did not come from recognition of you, but from something he had once carried himself, something he had fought to reclaim.

Honor.

It wasn't just a word, it was once his purpose and now his treasure.

"I understand." he said.

Your composure faltered then. Your jaw tightened, you did not look away, and Zuko noticed there was a sheen to your eyes now.

"Do you really?" you asked.

"I do," Zuko answered. "But I also do not want you to turn against Sokka because of it. He is still Aang's closest friend."

"Perhaps he will not be for long."

Your response had come without any hesitation, and it stumped him.

You drew in a quiet breath, the tension pulling inward once more as you turned away. You grabbed the glass of water you set down, draining it in one motion before you started rinsing it with more force than necessary.

Behind you, Zuko remained still.

Until now, he had believed Sokka's concerns were rooted in something else. Namely, in the history between Aang and Katara. But standing there, watching the way your single statement had carried a genuine threat behind it, he began to see it differently.

Maybe, Sokka was not disappointed by the unwritten story of Aang and Katara.

Perhaps he feared what your presence would do to the group, because he saw something in you the others failed to see.

Zuko returned to the living area and he noticed you leaving the kitchen in the same moment, your movement quick, and he assumed you had gone in search of some quiet corner of the house.

By the time he seated himself again, the balcony doors had opened.

Aang and Sokka stepped back inside together, the earlier tension between them no longer sharp, though it was not entirely gone. After all, Aang may forgive, but he was not one to forget easily.

Zuko's scanned their dejected faces, so to lighten the mood he jokes—

"Were you both crying?" he asked.

"No, we were not!" Aang and Sokka answered at once, their voices overlapping in perfect unison, and for a brief moment, something familiar surfaced between them.

Laughter followed, and it felt like they were all kids again.

Aang's attention shifted soon after, his gaze moving across the room before settling into a small frown.

"Where is she?" he asked.

Zuko leaned back slightly. "She stepped out. I believe she went to find the restroom."

Aang's expression tightened just a fraction. "I don't think she knows where it is."

"She's a big girl," Toph said from the couch. "She'll figure it out."

"I can go check," Katara offered, already stepping forward.

Aang stopped her before she could take another step. His hand caught her arm gently, halting her movement. Her breath hitched, the reaction subtle as her resistance dissolved beneath Aang's touch.

"I'll go," he said instead. He did not wait for a response before turning, already moving out of the room in search of you.

In his haste, he did not notice what had slipped loose. It was Katara who saw it first, her gaze dropping toward the floor just after he had disappeared from view.

"His emblem—" She pointed.

The small piece lay near where he had stood, the Air Nomad symbol detached. Zuko reached for it before anyone else could, his fingers closing around it with care.

"I'll bring it to him," he said, stepping away from the others, the emblem held loosely in his hand, as he moved through the unfamiliar layout of the house, turning once, then again.

And then he found you both.

He stopped before either of you noticed him.

You both stood close, your hands pressed against Aang's chest, your fingers curled slightly into the fabric. Aang's hands rested at back as his arms engulfed you.

Zuko stepped back instinctively, retreating into the shadow of the wall, turning his gaze away even he remained where he was, his presence hidden.

He did not watch.

He listened.

A soft sound broke through the quiet as you pulled away, your voice following after.

"Why won't you just tell me?" you asked, the words catching at the edges. "What did Sokka say?"

Aang did not answer, and the silence went on with the occasional break of your sniffles, enough to confirm what had not been said.

"Zuko said he insulted me. Did you just forgive him for it?" you pressed, your voice breaking slightly.

"...Not exactly—"

"It's a yes or no question," you cut in, sharper now, though the hurt beneath it did not lessen. "Tell me, what did he say, Aang?"

"Please stop crying," Aang whispered as you pulled you into a hug yet again. "I'll tell you everything once we're home."

You sobbed against his chest, your breath uneven, before you braced yourself for your next words. 

"Did...did you tell Sokka about...what happened...—"

"I would never!" He exclaimed softly, pulling away slightly so he could meet your eyes. "I would never disrespect you like that, I promise you." 

"But Sokka did, didn't he? And I consider you forgiving him is just as disrespectful."

"I forgave him because he was sincere with his apology. Sokka is not someone who acts on his feelings like that."

"How is that meant to justify anything."

"It means, whatever was said about you was his anger directed at me." 

There was a pause after his statement, shifting your eyes from his as you closed them shut.

Your grip on him tightened, inhaling softly to you ease your emotions.

"It seems my presence has caused a lot of harm. And it's only been a day."

"It is not your fault. My friends felt deceived because I didn't tell them about you. I chose to stay silent."

You knew Aang meant well, but you were taking his words at face value.

"...I feel as though I have trapped you. I should have never agreed—"

"You are the best thing that has happened to me. I know it may not have seemed like it in the beginning, but I do not regret asking you to marry me. I never will." 

His tone softened further as his hands lifted, cupping your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that had already fallen. 

"I am sorry that you've been having a hard time around my friends." 

Even though he didn't need to, his apology was reassuring, and you shook your head with a smile.

"It's alright. It shows how much they care for you." 

At your words he smiles, thumbs brushing your cheeks.

"Let me take you home. I'll explain everything."

You nod, head tilting back as he leaned closer for a kiss. The kiss was not brief. It was deep and vulnerable, the shine of tears still tracing your cheeks.

Then there was nothing more.

Zuko did not stay. He stepped away as quietly as he had arrived, your conversation left behind him.

When he returned to the others, Katara noticed his failed excursion immediately, eyes dropping to the emblem still in his hand.

"You couldn't find him?" she asked.

Zuko glanced down at the emblem, then back at her.

"No." he said calmly. "I'm sure he will return for it."

chapter three coming soon...

a/n: fair warning, this story will have darker themes in the future. my vision for this story is very straightforward and to the point, so yes, the characters may seem ooc at times. but i gotta do it for the plot. just promise me, no one will hate on the actual characters, okay?

[taglist open]

masterlist

vacancy and blankness become common themes in your mind whenever the avatar dares to be near. he leans down to your height, an easy going smile slanted onto his lips with the type of carelessness that comes with throwing caution into the wind too many times to count. “hm?” he’ll often say, as though the added height makes it harder to hear and aang is always so keen to listen, clinging onto your every word as though it’s ancient scripture. you’ve never had this problem before, not growing up glued to his side and watching him become the world’s hero — at least you think. 

perhaps your heart has always fluttered for him like petals in a breeze.

it’s just worse. now that you know each other intimately. 

aang takes up space.

the tent you’ve set up for the night feels cramped, fit for a bird who doesn’t dare fly free. what one might call a prison, another would call a dwelling for something precious. the width of his shoulders, down to the angular taper of his torso are somehow large enough to shield the bare bones of your body from any one who may happen to pass by. you feel sheltered underneath him, daunted by his mountainous shape that seems to cast a shadow over you — one where you can hide the quiver in your bottom lip, not from fear but from anticipation. a root in your lungs that intermingled with the bronchial trees that help you breathe. the root then florets and flutters, bringing a pleasant tingle south of where your mind grows misty as though a cool fog has broken over a calm body of water. 

it’s all because of how…thickset and strapping he’s become. 

your dainty fingers traverse the mountainous man like an explorer trying to reach the top, you feel the way the jus les in aang’s back ripple and interlock underneath his clothes that strain to keep him contained. he peers down at you with a kind of … alluring patience. the fact that he’s willing to wait, won’t use his strength against you, worsens the lurch of lust in your lower stomach and between your thighs which part to make room for his waistline. through the smog that clouds your sensibilities, you manage to take a peek at the avatar, let your gaze fall over the edge to admire the sights of his plush heaving chest and the sky blue arrowhead markings that he wears proudly on his sleeves — you can’t believe how beautiful he is. that he’s yours. that he puts his shoes next to your own when he steps into your home, that he’s got a favourite pillow on his side of the bed that you share, that he—!

“are you sure you want to do this?” his voice breaks through the clouds like a striking ray of sunshine ready to ghost its warmth over your skin. when you blink, aang is already looking, already analysing you the way one would read over their favourite passage in a book to make sure they hadn’t missed anything. he drinks in the details of your visage, the breathless part of your lips and the dilation to your sparkling eyes — there’s hunger within them, an appetite only aang has the ability to appease. he knows the answer to his question before he’s even asked it, unspoken as the words hang his perfect pearly white teeth. hooked there like they’re the keys to your heart.  

“aang,” your heart, that organ of yours — the one that keeps you alive and present and in the moment. it skips a beat, enough to make you notice but not enough to make you worry. it won’t beat out of your chest, you won’t die of a heartache if the way he looks at you doesn’t kill you first. something out of history, something timeless to be admired for generations to come. you wait for your heartbeat to settle under the nightly ambience outside of your tent, though you’re sure aang might have picked up on it already. “i said yes.” 

he leans away from you to shrug off a flurry of orange and yellow fabrics — revealing a battle scarred and well-carved body. there’s so many colours within aang, the sun, the sky at golden hour, the brilliant blue of the morning, the stormy grey whirling in his eyes. he could be a painting, a work of art they’d speak of for millennia to come… but he’s yours. taking up space in your mind as though he hasn’t a dime of rent to pay.

there were times where you’d hesitate to reach out and touch the avatar, to smooth over the sketching of his scars in the middle of his chest. now you’re sure, certain, pressing your fingers into it because it has to mean something. you have to affect him as much as he affects you. 

“aang.” you repeat all the letters of his name, seriousness stirred between them — blending like honey in milk.

an infallible, perhaps teetering on the edge of omniscient, beam breaks out on the smooth canvas of the avatar’s face. no longer youthful like you remember, but older, handsomely aged like a brew perfected over time. “if you’re positive.” he says, cheerful — so maybe a little childlike, tongue darting out to playfully nip your fingers that now cup his chin. wagging his clean shaven head from side to side.

so handsome, there’s barely enough room in your head to think anything else in the world could be this pretty.

you almost forget that you’re bare. naked as the day you were born. you shudder when aang’s bare hand presses firm against your sternum — warm because, of course, he’s the avatar who can bend the elements at his skilled will. it’s heated a touch, but still goosebumps rise on your skin in a tidal wave, and your nipples harden into whipped peaks. aang ignores them in search of something more, not that he doesn’t want to take his time with you. you’re just undeniable, you’ve been waiting all day for more than intimately placed touches and soft lips against your forehead. there’s more he intends to give to you. 

the avatar finds your slick entrance with the kind of practised ease only a man in love would possess. there’s no need for guidance when he can effortlessly find the points and spots that have you dulcetly drawling his name as though it’s one of your prized possessions. a best kept secret. a hidden treasure. two digits, thick and calloused, slide in with little to no resistance and curl almost instantly in search for your sweet spot — pressing down hard on the gooey nub nestled further along your walls. for the whole duration, aang waits for your silent please, consent for more, with baited breath. his lungs full of enough anticipatory air to give birth to a thunderstorm.

that’s all the sign he needs to navigate further south, follow the pulse of your blood flow to the aching buzz hardening in your clit. cheekily, the avatar tacks the pad of his thumb to the pleasure button, brushing it from side to side, round and round in tight circles — launching you into the stratosphere with what feels like a gust of blistering hot wind. meanwhile, his deft fingers between pudgy thighs get to work — the pace aang begins with reflects exactly who he is, unyielding and unpredictable. the intensity doesn’t build slow, it’s rapid akin to that of a dangerous river sectional. though his movements are not rushed, the flex of his wrist aids the two digits scissoring you open for the stretch that’s yet to come.

your entrance grows sappy and filthy around what manages to fit inside — filling you and dragging along your molten ichorous walls, so hot you’d put a fire bender to shame. the little squeaks  that escape you, airy and feather light layer messily over lewd squelching sounds echoing from between your shaky legs that tremble as though the earth has decided to split in two. grey eyes start to glimmer, mimicking the moonshine through nightly cloud cover, and a wry grin splinters on the avatar’s soft lips — a result of your precious cunt, making a spectacle around aang’s fingers. rippling and drooling down arrow shaped tattoos that twist around the length of his muscled arm and wrist. 

aang maps you out, travelling your gooey walls as though he’s trying to rediscover a place he once called home. familiar. welcoming. like discovering a new island, he pinions against pleasure spots lining your walls that you’d never be able to reach without him . although your tightness presents as resistance, the manner in which you paw at his wrist in a quiet plea for more and anything further to placate the twist in your gut, tells aang that you want this. need this. soaring high, aang flies you to new heights of ecstasy — sets your body adrift, floating above cloud nine.

he’s mesmerised, watching his favourite view, the squeeze of your cunt around him to prevent escape. each time his digits pump in and out of you, you cutely clench at the knuckle, as if to stop him from going too far. under the candle light, the avatar can’t help but flux into the giddy feeling like a slow drip of pale candle wax pooling at the base of its holder. simply knowing that he is the one making your pussy gush, translucent essence sliding down the length of your swollen slit and into the rustling fabrics below, licks his ego. stokes it like coals on a flame. 

“so wet here, so soft.” aang makes a sort of chuffing noise against your hairline, swooping down to level flat against the flooring of your tent. chest to chest, hearts beating in sync as though they’re drums following a similar tune. though aang’s voice dips low, the baritone register winding ropes within your lower stomach,  his intonation is cheery — bright like the sun at noon. “pretty baby, just look at you chasin’ it.” 

your hips twitch upwards at the avid taunting, called upon by his convincing siren’s song. you wonder if he’s bending your body in the same way he does with the four elements because you arch your back into the centre of him, magnetised by the lull of his heart beating for you. 

“someone’s impatient, easy baby.” neither mean nor gentle, aang divulges objective fact — sweat settling into the smile lines that bracket his subtle smirk. his teasing is as relentless as the press of his digits against the one special spot that clears your mind completely. he gives, gifting you another slab of arcadia until it stacks high to come tumbling down because aang has always been so, so kind. your quivering hole stretches wide over the broad stroke of his fingers, clear and sticky essence a glimmering glaze over them, wetter and wetter by the second beside you can’t stop bucking against their force. 

you point him in the right direction as he navigates your ecstasy, helping him erratically assault your pussy even though the avatar is more than capable of crumbling you like precious stone. but you burn everywhere, in your pelvis and your muscles pulled tight with the tension of holding back — flames burn at the oxygen nurturing your lungs and if aang weren’t the center star that boils to a billion degrees, the heat in your face would be enough to rival him. 

a dopey, delirious smile creates a habitat amongst your sweat-slicked features — carved against them like ancient scripture on stone only a man such as aang has the skill to decipher. “been waiting all day...” waiting for more than just hands under clothes. more than just yearning gazes swapped between the motions of your friends. “please, please, please. need you more…” the plea tastes like desperation against the tip of your tongue, the kind you only feel when your whole world is about to cave in, the sort that brings a tear to your eyes with the same sharp rapidness of a tidal boar. 

aang grounds you, soothes you, becomes the very force that brings you back to land out of fear the waters may wash you away. he takes up that space around your heart that knocks the beat down to a level that’s sustainable. with sweltering kisses marked against your hairline, chaste balmy from his own layer of perspiration, appearing almost like a second skin.  in response, a heatwave crashes through your body like a desert breeze — particles of unadulterated lust and hunger catching on the high points of your body. 

the back of the avatar’s head is clammy where you reach to it for leverage, crossing your arms at the back of his head. you bring the hardline of aang’s body against you, his stomach meeting yours with a wet slap because so much arousal has pooled there. his cock, leaky, hard and monstrous, rocks against soft flesh — jumping between you both like a glaring warning sign because he is just so big. 

“i don’t want to hurt you, might not be ready yet.” he says with the same restraint as a child being told to wait until after dinner for a sweet treat. aang is good, he regards you gently as though you’re something that might fracture with too much pressure — yet he knows what you can take, how much you can endure for the sake of losing yourself to him for a little while. just like his body on top of yours, aang’s large palm slots perfectly against your pussy — the seat of his palm grinding against your puffy clit alongside the rhythm of his thrusting fingers. nirvana begins to flash behind your eyes, blurting your vision as you blink up at him meekly. 

you like the burn. the stretch. the pain that comes with taking aang and he reads it in your darkening eyes, open like a book.

“it won’t hurt,” you argue back, though your words carry no weight. they taper into a cottony sigh, whisked away from the night’s breeze — icy against your temperate skin. sweat drops from his shoulders to your chest, glueing him to you. he’s a solid mass on top of you, contrary to the silky webbing of your mound, ruined beneath his fingers that work you unrelentingly. pleasure breaks through you like the sun rising above the horizon, highlighting the glow of your body as an orgasm nears. “please don’t make me wait, aang…”

aang chuckles, the weight of it carried by whirling winds and his fingers leave you for just a moment, an empty hole waiting to be filled – trembling without him. seamlessly, his delicate caress glides over your throbbing mound, growing cold and slick as time passes by. strings of clear, tarry elixir pruriently prevents his touch from straying too far from where you need him most. “you’re so pretty when you say please.” he exhales through his nose in a serene gust, spreading his fingers to watch your arousal web amidst them.

“aang–!”

“how about i make you cum?” he volunteers, and you despite the steamroll of fog starting to cloud your mind, you fail to miss the playful lilt that clings to his every word. it’s more of a statement than a suggestion, with aang riding the clouds between your thoughts, there’s no room to argue either. he acts first, on the same kind of brave impulse you’ve seen from him in battle many times before, delivering a few sappy love taps to your unattended sex. toying with you through a guise of a half-lidded smile that lures you into feeling safe.

he discerns your swollen clit from equally swollen folds once more, a muddlement of sin to be solved by one of the most powerful beings on earth, and draws his name across the hood of the sensitive little nub — drawing back the extra skin just to press your own slick into it. your back peels away from the tent’s flooring from where sweat had gathered to cleave the skin to it, trembling and twitching as you bow into aang, invade his space, crawl into it for sanctuary. though, in this safety net – you find yourself pincered, caught between his lips that descend upon yours and the lengthy, agile pointers that act with the alacrity of the sky’s breath. aang licks into your mouth briskier than your brain can keep up, stealing every soft breath and shackly snuffle that lays underneath your tongue. he tastes you like he’s losing a memory he wants to keep, tracking your flavour in your breezy breath before you have the sense to plead for more.

in due time, he’ll give it to you.

he’ll instimulate the careful crease between your brows and the petulant little pout that drags down the corners of your mouth even as you meet his with the same balance of the elements. harmonious and restorative all at once. he kisses you like it’ll heal him, the dulling phantom ache in his scars, the mass of loss in his past and the burdens of the future. you take it all to your lungs, inhale it into the space within your vital organs because pain like his should never be borne alone.

even still, the avatar hisses with a mix of awed ail when your nails break carmine crescent moons against the blue sails of his arrowhead tattoos. you grasp at his sinewy forearms for stability, something grounding like a plant taking root in new soils, and clench around dexterous digits that once more reclaim the claggy path of your ruined insides. whilst you howl like a storm’s winds and chase the seed of pleasure flourishing within your bubbling tummy – aang has a vision, like one of those who have walked the same path before him, casting imagery of hurricanes pulled from skies and storm clouds torn to little tufts in the name of you. 

because he loves you. 

your struggling, shuddering thighs and aerated gasps. the way you hold onto him like a lifeline as your orgasm brings you right to the edge of balance – the pendulum threatening to knock you off. aang’s fingers twist and brush amongst your sensitivity and it’s not long before all the pleasure that had been building crumbles under the tidal wave of arousal that crashes through you. “let go for me, baby,” he whispers earnestly against your cupid’s bow, hoping that it coaxes you along and unties the tightness lingering there. “there you go, good girl…” 

his words undo you like your binding holding you together never existed, weakened by time and attention. the care aang takes to bring you to heaven pushes you into release, one that has your juices splashing down the length of aang’s burly arms as though he’s squeezed a ripened fruit. all at once, you seize beneath him and gush into his palm seat, quaking through aftershocks where your cunt is the epicentre. he finds your mouth, fallen open in a whiney mewl, and wheedles you into a soothing wet kiss where tongue’s tangle and breathing draws ragged like the sharp edge of an earth-bended mountain.

once you’re calm, reduced to the gentle rock of a boat on the very water aang controls, your needy screams retreat too. everything melting  into soft pants and a dreamy gaze through your droopy eyelids. 

your appetite remains unruly, however.

“wan’ more.” you mumble in a quiet wisp – demanding, nearing playful. a challenge laying in the candle light like a trap for the avatar, plans barely concealed by the mirth swirling in your clearing, glassy eyes.

in their reflection, aang sees himself. body worn but spirit never tired of the games you play with one another. he heedily lowers you back to the flooring of the tent, arranges you neatly amongst fur pelts and blankets that soften like his leer on you.a picturesque view, skin shining like the surface of silk, thighs sticky with your body’s syrup, bare chest heaving like you’ve got oxygen to spare. you’re so beautiful it's easy to give into you. if there were any weakness the avatar were to possess, it would be you.

silence, bearable and conservant, is born between your bodies. it steals space, not unkindly, because you know aang’s quiet  gives way to his next actions, the plan he’ll take to bring you to bliss once more. his large palms, coarse from weathering the elements, span down your being again – through the valley of your breasts, down your sternum and into the soft fleshiness of your tummy.

“you’re sure?” he laughs, holding breath under his tongue. even as he questions you, aang shuffles onto his haunches to shred the last of his dignity – the fabric of his pants whirring across the tent.

your vision stoops low, following the arrows that point to the one thing you’ve been craving all evening. to say the avatar is … gifted… would be an under estimation – his shaft is ample in both size and weight, dripping from the dull tip and seedy slit, slightly curved with balls that are pink and plump. ripe with seed. you feel your stomach twitch underneath his touch and he does too – as though its preparing to take his size fully. grey eyes darken with a storm of lust once you find aang’s face again – merriment dawning on his features.

“you’ve asked me that a million times already,” you huff, cadence carrying petulance. “you don’t think i can handle you, avatar?’

he shakes his head. “i know what you can handle, i pay attention to your limits.” he says it like he knows something you don’t, a trick up his metaphorical sleeve to be unveiled the further this game advances. your move. it reads.

crawling over you once more, broad upper body blocking out the world and a slender waist shuffles between your thighs. aang is at your neck this time, gently nipping at your neck to leave his mark in the same manner that you’ve left one on his heart. saliva soothes the crease of his teeth indented into your skin, warm and distracting while the hands once at your stomach press into the lissome fat at your hips – manhandling you in the position he desires most. 

there’s no space between you know, not even a millimetre, ardent flesh bonding and soon to become one. the beat of your heart links like the next note of a song, nipples brushing sensitively as they harden under the night air. aang throws your legs over his wide-set shoulders, spreading you open and parting the webs of slick glueing together your swollen folds. a warm, gooey pressure burns against your entrance, his hips jutting forward to run his cock through the length of your slit – the sensation is not unwelcome, the slight sting of pain feels just like returning home after a long journey. where everything aches and nothing seems to settle.

his tip dully breaks through the translucent netting gathering at your entrance, gradually filling you inch by inch until you physically feel swole just from the tip. you flutter around him weakly, once for every throb of his girth against your nociceptive ridges.

only half of what he has makes it in, and even then, you experience the kind of fullness that comes with that of a full moon. hard to ignore, a sight to behold. you lift your lower half, circling your hips down to swallow what he offers, because too much is never enough and you have always been greedy when it comes to aang.

he’s a hero to the world, barely something you get to keep sacred and to yourself.

it’s hard to miss, impossible not to notice and aang bucks forward ever so slightly, rewarding you with more stretch, more burn, more of his cock. you suction around the rippling pang and clasp the back of his damp neck while your body accommodates for his size. “aang…m-more!’ your voice is raw, throat bobbing from the delighted tears you’ve been holding back and the avatar’s strong hands lift your lips higher, hoping it’ll alleviate the ache for more.

“baby, you’re being so greedy tonight, what’s with that?” the question slips into the sudden torrid atmosphere, though it’s amused – sitting behind a smile you can’t see ( it blurs as you sniffle ), aang groans. fractured, lust living between the cracks. “just take this much for now,” he doesn’t bottom out, only thrusts shallowly, letting the sweltersome head of his cock nudge your ribbed walls. “can’t give you all of my cock… have to be somewhere you can get help if it goes wrong,” 

that should be enough to destroy you.

aang fucks you half way down his length all whilst caging you in, his sweet mouse caught in a trap, pushing and pulling from your adorably selfish hole – beginning a sensual, swing to his own hips. you feel the wiry muscle of his thighs crook against your ass as the avatar practically puts you through the bedding. in your mind, aang makes up the middle of the universe, yet to him, your pleasure becomes the heart of his – he uses the strength bursting from his biceps to jerk you back and forth on what plugs you full. 

he is not rough, but focused, relishing in the juices you baste him in – smearing your juices along his hard stomach, where it pools against his tattoos and his belly button. the force he uses to roll into you lulls a symphony of whiney bleats from between your wet and kiss swollen lips, a sweet song that mingles with the soft slap of skin on skin filling your tent.

your body threatens to break once more, your arms like a loose neck tie around his thick throat and your shaky  hands finding purchase on his clean shaken head. all you can do is sink into him, let him overrule your body, taking it over— mind, body and soul. in return, he frees a hand to angles in your roots like the winds rushing through your hair, hugging you close so that you never fade away. even then he kisses you as though the world has taken you from him, too much all at once, overwhelming you with the curve of his tongue breaching realms beyond your pearly white teeth. aang tastes you, and tastes you, lips balmy  moving against yours with such vigor it nearly distracts you from the intensity of his thrusts.

where aang usually carries the scent of freshly cut grass and freedom – the fragrance twists into something more profane, the husk from your cunt and the sweat evaporating on your skin from how frequently it all meets. the atmosphere tingles with his devotion to you. 

your calves start to tingle where they violently shake on aang’s shoulders, every part of you spasms even down to your cunt that wraps around him like a vice. you feel ravaged, fractured, pathetically split open on his thickness even though it’s still only half. 

it doesn’t matter how you thrash and whine in a desperate effort to swallow another inch, aang remains sturdy above you. immovable. where the blankets and pelts begin to slip from the motion of your bodies working together, the avatar allows his mouth to cover you – silken spit drying against your breasts that bounce from passionate motion. he acts with the motion of a starved man who cannot go a second without another meal, tongue circling your areolas at a speed that matches the feverish punch of his weighty girth against your g-spot.

you cannot imagine a world without aang in it, without aang’s presence filling every corner like the sunrise in an empty room. kisses golden and glowing. the way he looks down at you like you’re worth a war and regards you with cool toned eyes that feel free of burden when you’re in view – draws you closer to a peak. there are so many feelings in aang’s eyes, slithering between your bodies, he fills you with more with each rut of his hips into yours, a creamy and lewd ring frothing around what doesn’t fit inside. 

“y-you’re so good,” you babble him earnestly, losing breath to his intensity, pussy pulsating over the prominent veins and ridges twirling around aang’s chubby girth. his thrusts pull and push at your spongy insides – bumping against pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had. “c-can you please just…give me more…?”

“you’re so needy, baby,” aang circles an arm around your waist and leans back on his haunches. his knees resting pelts whilst he manoeuvres himself  in a kneeling position. this time, he is able to bottom out fully, unexpectedly. he hits the hilt with a low, rumbling sound against the crown of your head – as if finally being sheathed inside of you has pulled him to pieces before you.“how’s this? d-deeper? fuller?”

in this new position, you’re sure you’ve crossed over to the spirit world. the new pressure is blinding, the assault on your g-spot is constant and mimics the ever-turning of the planet you live on. if you could, you’d cry out for the aid of a spirit but instead, through the lasciviousness lodged in your throat, his name is born like a prayer on your lips. “a-aang!”

“yeah, i know,” he mutters, overcome with emotion, eyes on you everywhere. the angelic contortions of your face, the drip of nectar from your hypersensitive cunt to his balls. everywhere.  “gods i know, you’re practically choking me out down there. that’s nice… so nice.”

your eyes become misty and aang’s voice becomes a murky strain, breaths of exertion coasting over your heated face as he strikes up an almost bullying, breezy pace to his slender hips as they pummel into your sex. now, he is able to hit deep — twist and turn your gummy organs up and drag over the sensitive ridges you can’t reach normally.

clawing at aang’s neck, you use the last of your vigour to grind against him. futile but sweet. your second release borders on pain since you’re spread over him, dull head of his cock near kissing the entrance to your womb. you asked for this, now you’re slumped and weak in his lap. a pathetic ragdoll that’s loved more than it’s toyed with. neither of you mind the fade in your endurance, after all the support and care you’ve given to aang through his hardest moments – he adores being able to return the favour like this. watch himself bulge in your tummy whilst your mind slips away from you. watch the faint part of your lips as you cry his praises and flit of your lashes whilst you attempt to hold his gaze.

“you like it better like this, i know.” aang coos, tone not too far off from wonder. lilt a little more than condescending. without disparaging his strength, he hauls you back and forth on his soiled shaft, a crude mix of precum and the sweet nectar your cunt drools helping him glide through your tightness.   “when i…. move you up and down up and down… there we go,” for the millionth time that night, he laughs. pure and bright, sparking your nerve endings. that’s when you gush, when the chord of tension snaps and you begin to violently convulse with your second orgasm.

he leans an arm past your back to steady himself with balls of air at his finger tips, other hand jumping up to span into the curve of your spine whilst you keen into him. wailing high like whistling winds. “you’re so cute when you’re cumming.” he purrs, boyishly devoted to your pleasure  just as you reach the summit on the mountain, your peak, squirting all the way down aang’s thickness. 

the world around you blurs as though water has mixed with wet paint used to capture darling memories,. a scream rips through you and burns at the fraying edges of your voice. clear streams of arousal shoot from your sluice sex and dampen the pelts, soak aang to the bone – nearly forcing his drowning dick out of you.

his rhythm barely wavers; not even when he is chasing both of your releases, running with the wind as his tip nudges against your pleasure spot over and over. moans rising in octave with every step he takes closer to orgasm.

for a moment, you think, your presence fills aang with as much light and life as he does with you. 

a thumb winds down to your clit with a brand new purpose, noting the aftershocks running through you that bring him his own sense of euphoria. he’s careful with you now, gently jerking you in his lap while his thoughts turn blank, mind crowded with thoughts of only you.  “so small… compared to me. it’s adorable, god, you really are —!” when aang cums, his forehead falls to yours, grey eyes brimming with a glowing blue that extends to the tattoos painted permanently into his body. he glows bright, a beacon of love in the night. then he hiccups, airy and low, succumbing to your shuddering warmth – ecstasy twisting through him like a tornado that’s grown over time. “perfect.”

opaque white shoots into you in viscous ropes, clinging to your wet walls – gathering in a frothy ring at your entrance. none of it is wasted, the avatar insistent on plugging you full. he finds sanctuary in the curve of your neck, breathy curses tattooed into your skin which tickle pleasantly. aang keeps you in his arms before exhaustion settles into your bones and his body threatens to cop out completely—  he just about manages to land on his side before his weight crushes you.

a pregnant silence takes up space in the tenant. tender as your weary eyes meet and heart rates slow to a standstill. aang’s face creases with adoring attachment, triumphant and adoring and childish. you don’t need words to know that he loves you, that he would give up anything to stay right here with you.

i love you.

it comes easy, reciprocating – you find his fingers in your heap of lips and brush a kiss against them so briskly one might mistake your light affection for a breeze.

i love you always.

aang takes up space, in your room next to your things. in your mind where all your best memories lie. and most importantly, in your heart.

end ! likes are appreciated, but just liking doesn’t do much on tumblr! to support and motivate myself and other writers, reply, reblog and comment if you'd like to see more!! — asks are open to thirsts and thoughts! join my taglist ! love you!

It had been eight months since he had last returned.

Eight months had passed since the harbor had seen the familiar shape of Appa descending from the sky. The city carried on, but those who knew him felt his absence.

Katara found herself searching the skies every loose minute. She told herself it was a habit, that she preferred the open air to the confines of the city, but even she did not believe it entirely. She longed to see Aang, worried his adventures had gone askew. 

She understood the reason for his absence. The world demanded his presence in ways that could not be ignored, and she wouldn't ask him to turn away from that. Understanding, however, did little to ease the sense of distance that had settled over time.

For her, those expectations had taken on a shape she could no longer dismiss.

What they had shared in the past had never been defined, left suspended between their small moments or shared kisses, something that hadn't resurfaced since the end of the war. 

They had been younger then, shaped by the urgency of war and the closeness it forced upon them, but time had not erased what remained. It made it a lot heavier to hold, at least for her.

The time spent building and growing the now Republic City had kept them close yet far apart because of duty. But once it had been over and settled into this new world, Aang took to finding more of his heritage, travelling wherever Appa could reach.

Now, another anniversary of the Republic City had arrived, bringing her friends along with it. 

Sokka, her brother, arrived a few days ago from the Southern Water Tribe. And Toph arrived just yesterday from the Earth Kingdom with a few of her pupils in tow. 

And although the responsibilities of a Fire Lord were inexplicably heavy, Katara was sure Zuko would draw upon a visit as well. 

But the person she hoped to see the most had yet to show his face. She had hoped that his return would bring clarity, that distance would have resolved the unlabeled tension. 

That this time, he would stay long enough for something to begin.

No one ever receives an advance notice of his arrival. The Avatar came and went as needed, his presence guided more by circumstance than by schedule. Even so, there was always a shift in the air when he returned.

It was no different this time.

The anniversary celebrations had filled Republic City with life, the streets crowded with people, music threading through the air, and voices rising in easy celebration beneath the afternoon sun. 

The city center was alive, and it was difficult to notice anything beyond what was directly in front of you.

Until something passed overhead, casting a swift, giant shadow onto the people. It moved across the ground and over the buildings, drawing attention upward.

Heads tilted back, the crowd already bubbling with excitement. And then someone said it.

"Look! It's the Avatar—!"

High above, Appa descended through the open sky. The wind shifted with him, carrying the force of his arrival down into the streets below as the crowd instinctively moved back, clearing space without needing to be told.

On his head sat Aang. He was so easy to recognize, even from a distance.

Katara saw him first, as always. Her breath caught, her gaze fixed upward as the shape of him became clearer with every passing second.

Sokka followed her line of sight, squinting for half a moment before breaking into a grin.

"I told you," he said, nudging her lightly. "I told you he'd show up today."

Toph tilted her head toward the ground, arms still crossed, though her attention sharpened immediately. 

"Took him long enough."

Appa lowered, the air swirling around him as he descended into the open space ahead. The ground seemed to brace for it, and when he landed, the impact sent a gust of wind outward that forced the nearest onlookers to step back further.

The crowd erupted. Cheers broke through all at once, voices rising over one another.

"The Avatar!"

"He's back!"

Aang stepped down with ease, his movements light despite the height he had descended from. The moment his feet touched the ground was light and controlled, like he was the air itself.

He reached up briefly, unfastening the straps of the packs secured behind him before lowering them— setting four large bags (something he had not originally set out with) carefully onto the ground.

Above them, Momo settled with a contented chirp, curling into place as though the journey had not bothered him in the slightest.

Aang straightened as he looked out at the crowd, taking in the faces, the noise, the energy of the city that had continued in his absence. But he was hoping to catch a sight of his family above all.

His eyes skimmed across the crowds and he found them easily, smiling at the familiar faces. It was the same smile they remembered, remaining unchanged despite the months that had passed.

Sokka took a step forward immediately, already raising a hand.

"Aang—!"

But Aang did not move toward them.

Instead, he turned back to Appa once more. Before they could even take a step forward, he lifted himself lightly from the ground with a small current of air, rising just enough to reach the edge of Appa's saddle.

Then he held out his hand.

They were confused. Momo had claimed the travel bags without concern, already drifting toward sleep despite the noise that still lingered around them.

Aang didn't really have anyone else who had accompanied him when he left. The thought settled between them without needing to be spoken, drawing their attention back toward the saddle they had assumed was empty.

Before any of them could voice it, they saw a hand appear first, fingers settling into Aang's before the rest of you followed, rising into view as you pulled yourself upright from where you had been seated along the saddle. 

Your hand remained in his as Aang's grip tightened enough to steady you, and in the same movement, he drew you closer, closing the space that existed between you. 

Your arms circled his shoulders as the two of you remained there, suspended in the air. Then, gently, he brought you down.

The air shifted around you as your feet met the ground beside him. His hold lingered to ensure your balance before easing. When you separated, it was only by a small measure that left the connection between you intact.

The crowd, once loud with excitement, had begun to thin as attention returned to the celebration, though a handful remained, watching with quiet curiosity, their earlier cheers settling into murmurs that carried more questions than answers.

No one reached for a conclusion just yet.

Katara, Sokka, and Toph moved forward almost at once, their attention pulled in two directions at once, drawn to Aang yet returning, again and again, to you.

You had already turned slightly, your hand lifting to rest against Appa's head, and your touch was seemingly familiar enough that the great sky bison leaned into it without resistance.

By the time they reached him, the distance had closed enough that the moment could no longer be delayed.

Katara moved first.

She closed the space quickly, and whatever restraint she had held dissolved the moment she reached him. She wrapped her arms around him without hesitation, the force of it enough to make him shift back a step before he steadied.

"Aang," she breathed, relief threading through her voice despite her effort to keep it composed. 

"It's so good to see you."

Sokka followed without pause, stepping in with a grin, his arm wrapping around them both and pulling them in.

"Yeah, pal, good to see you," he said.

Toph approached last, her head angled slightly as she reached out and pulled him into an embrace once the siblings had stepped back.

"Well, I can't see you," she said, her voice carrying its usual bluntness as she smirked, "but it's good to have you back, Twinkle Toes."

Aang laughed quietly, slipping easily into the space between them as though the months apart had been mere minutes.

"It's been one hell of an adventure," he said, his smile widening, his energy returning despite the changes that had settled into him. 

"But it's really good to see you guys."

He looked between them, taking in their presence fully now, before something shifted in his expression.

"Where is Zuko?" He noticed the absence quickly, as Katara stepped in.

"He'll be here tomorrow." She ensured. Aang nodded once in understanding before smiling back at them. 

"I'm really glad you're all here," he added, turning slightly.

"Because there's someone I want you to meet."

He called your name.

You turned at once, your attention shifting back to him, your hand lowering from Appa as you stepped forward when he beckoned you closer. When you reached him, he guided you gently to stand in front of him, your back pressing close to his chest.

His hands settled at your shoulders, as though presenting you to his friends (which he technically was).

The space around them seemed to narrow again, attention pulling inward and onto you.

And then, without hesitation, he spoke.

"Guys, this is my wife."

The space was quieter than the open streets of the city, removed from the curious eyes that had followed them from the city center. It was Katara's home, a short tower much like Aang's, warm and simple.

There was a low wooden table set at the center of the room and cushions arranged around it. The scent of food lingered in the air, a spread of dishes laid out with attention. They sat together on the floor, as they had many times before, yet it no longer felt as comforting with the addition of a new presence.

Aang settled easily, his posture relaxed as though the weight of his responsibilities had been set aside for the moment. You remained close beside him, your arm linked through his, your shoulder leaning lightly into his side.

The food was passed between them, and Sokka had already begun eating with little restraint, serving himself generously from the meat-filled dishes Katara had whipped up. Aang remained with the vegetarian plates set aside for him, thanking Katara quietly for the effort before beginning to eat.

You followed his lead, keeping to the same dishes, avoiding the drinks that Sokka and Toph had taken for themselves, your silence unbroken, your attention lowered more often than not.

The moment they had settled, the questions were poured over Aang all at once. Sokka and Toph tried to remain respectful to your presence while asking for your story, meanwhile Katara hadn't questioned the two of you at all, but evidently curious herself.

Aang had kept it brief, offering information sparingly about your history. He had said that the two of you had met while he was traveling, that things had moved quickly and you fell in love, that it had simply felt right. 

And being the Avatar meant having to oversee Republic City, he couldn't stay where he had met you, so the decision to get married had been made quickly, making you two return together, to build something here instead.

It was obvious they had many questions, but they sure as hell would not question their friend right in front of you.

Congratulations had followed, quiet and measured, and then the moment had passed, left to settle beneath everything that came after.

It was Sokka who filled the silence again, though this time not with questions, but with usual new ideas that spawn in his tinkering brain.

"So I've been working on this new design," he began, already gesturing with his hands despite the food still in them, his voice picking up pace as his excitement took over. 

"It's basically a reinforced mechanism—stronger joints, better rotation, and if I get it right, it could handle way more pressure than anything we've built before."

Aang leaned forward slightly, interest immediate. 

"Wait, so for like quicker transportation?"

"Exactly!" Sokka said, pointing at him with a quick nod. "I'm thinking something that could carry more weight, maybe even support multiple functions depending on how it's built."

Toph snorted softly. "So... you're just upgrading what already exists?"

"That's not—it is to improve efficiency." Sokka replied quickly. 

"Sounds the same to me."

"It's not the same," Sokka insisted, already leaning further into it. 

"Efficiency is important. You can't just throw things together and hope it works."

"You literally do that all the time."

"That's different," he said, without missing a beat. "That's instinct."

Aang laughed, slipping into place as though nothing had changed between them, his attention fully caught now.

"No, wait, that actually sounds really interesting," he said, his tone brightening. "If it can handle more pressure, you could use it not only for transportation, but construction too!"

"Exactly," Sokka said, pleased, already building on the idea. "See, this is why you get it."

Toph tilted her head slightly. "Yeah, because he's the only one listening."

The conversation carried on like that, Sokka speaking the most, his words running ahead of themselves as Aang kept up easily, asking questions, offering ideas, while Toph cut in whenever she pleased, her remarks sharp and comical each time.

You remained quiet beside Aang, your hand still resting around his arm, your gaze lowered more often than not, contributing nothing to the conversation yet not removed from it either.

Katara was quieter still, her attempts to keep up with the conversation falling short no matter how carefully she held her smile in place.

She spoke when needed, but for the most part, she said nothing at all, her attention shifting, her gaze returning to you more often than she would have liked before pulling away again.

Time passed quickly as it does when you're enjoying yourself, until the light outside began to soften, the sun lowering, shifting the room into a quieter shade.

Eventually, Aang took note of the time and your tired figure, his attention drifting from the conversation as he set his cup down.

"I think we should head home," he said, his tone gentle, though final. 

"It's been a long journey, and I want to get her settled in."

No one protested, agreeing quietly with a few nods as the evening drew to a close without resistance.

You both rose slowly and Aang moved toward the open balcony, the evening air slipping in as he stepped outside, a soft note leaving his whistle.

It did not take long for Appa to respond.

He floated close to the railing as Aang secured the travel bags onto the saddle before turning back to you, offering his hand as he helped you up first. Only once you were settled did he follow, stepping lightly onto Appa's head as he glanced back one last time.

"See you guys soon."

And then Appa rose, the wind lifting around him as you both left the balcony behind.

Once you had both left, a quiet settled over the three of them. The room, which had only moments ago carried conversation and liveliness, now held something far more glum.

Katara no longer held onto her smile. It faded slowly, the effort behind it slipping away until her lips formed a frown. She remained seated for a moment longer, her hands resting in her lap. The situation pressed in around her, suffocating her.

Sokka noticed it immediately. He had been watching her since Aang stood to leave.

"Katara..." he started, softer now, the edge gone from his voice.

She blinked, as though being snapped out of a dream. When she looked up, the smile she gave him was small and practiced, held together with effort.

"I'm just going to get some air," she said, not waiting for him to respond.

She stood up, her hands smoothing briefly over her clothes, an unnecessary gesture meant to steady herself, and then she turned toward the door.

Sokka pushed himself up immediately. 

"Katara, wait—"

She didn't.

She stepped out before he could reach her, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft finality. And whatever she had been holding in place gave way, unseen.

Sokka stopped short, the words he had meant to say left unfinished, his hand lowering slowly back to his side. He remained standing for a moment, staring at the door, as if expecting it to open again.

He exhaled sharply, the tension in him settling into something heavier as he dragged a hand through his hair before dropping back down onto the cushion, leaning back on his hands.

For a long time, he had not been entirely thrilled when he first noticed what had been forming between Aang and Katara. It had been uncomfortable at first, something he had watched with suspicion, protective instinct getting the better of him. 

But time had softened that resistance and he came to to accept it once he noticed how much his sister really adorded Aang. And Aang, was his best friend. Of all the people, he could trust him with Katara.

He had come to see it as inevitable, something that was bound to happen, and had secretly been expecting to take place already.

This—

This had not been part of that expectation.

"...Okay, what just happened?" he said after a moment, his voice sharp.

Toph did not answer immediately. Her head tilted slightly, getting more comfortable on the floor as she stretched out her limbs.

"That was bad," she said finally.

Sokka let out a short breath, sitting up straighter. 

"Bad? Toph, that was really bad." He ran a hand through his hair again, frustration settling in now that the moment had passed.

"He just—what, disappears for ten months, comes back, and suddenly he's married?" His voice lifted slightly, disbelief breaking through. 

"Since when does Aang do something like that without telling anyone?"

Toph leaned back slightly, her arms crossing, her expression unchanged. 

"Since apparently eight months ago."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not joking."

Sokka pushed himself to his feet again, pacing once across room before turning back toward her.

"She was waiting for him," he said, quieter now, though the weight behind it remained. 

"You know that, right? She didn't say it, but she—she was waiting."

Toph didn't interrupt.

"She thought..." he started, then stopped, exhaling through his nose as the frustration tightened again. 

"I thought—We all thought—!"

He didn't finish that either. The pieces didn't fit together cleanly anymore.

"He didn't even say anything! I am sure one letter wouldn't have hurt! I mean, what the hell was that story? I don't buy it for a second." Sokka continued, his voice lower now, though the edge hadn't left. 

Toph shifted slightly, her tone still calm, though less dismissive now.

"Yeah. He was lying." She says casually, as if it hadn't been the confirmation Sokka was looking for this entire time.

"What?! What do you mean?"

"What you said, Snoozles. Their story. Aang was lying. He probably didn't say much because he knew I would catch his lies."

"Wait...does that mean Aang is in trouble?" 

"Don't think so. From what I sensed, she didn't seem like much of a threat, and Twinkle toes did seem to care for her, there was no lie there." She explained her observations.

"Then I don't get it, Toph. What did Aang lie about?" Sokka questions, keeping his motive straightforward.

"None of what he said was a lie, but it wasn't the entire story. All I'm saying is, he said just enough of the truth to not make me suspect anything."

Sokka was livid.

"Why do you look so relaxed?! Aren't you mad at him? This doesn't seem like the Aang we know!"

"Chill out. I'm sure he's okay. Although...he's not one to think things through. Not when it comes to helping people anyway."

Sokka perks up at Toph's insinuation. "You think he's helping her?"

"My best guess."

"Well, that's no excuse," Sokka shot back immediately. 

"He knows better than that. He should know better than that. We are always here to help, he  knows that!"

"Maybe he just didn't need our help for this. From what I felt, he seemed happier, at least since I last met him.

Sokka's shoulders remained tense, his jaw tightening as his gaze stayed fixed on the door, though there was nothing left there to see. The space Katara had occupied was empty, her absence settling heavily into the room as Sokka grew worried for her.

"...I should go after her," he said, already half-turning.

"Give her a minute," Toph replied, her tone steady. "She won't want an audience right now."

Sokka stopped, even though the tension in him remained coiled tight, he did not argue. Instead, he hesitated in his step for half a second before lowering himself back onto the cushion.

"...He really messed this up," he muttered, the frustration slipping through despite the effort to contain it.

Toph tilted her head slightly at that, her expression unchanged.

"Did he?"

Sokka looked up at her, frowning. "What do you mean did he? You saw her."

"Yeah, I did," she said calmly. "I'm not saying she's fine. I'm asking how exactly this is all on him."

Sokka let out a short, disbelieving breath, the sound sharp against the quiet. "Toph—"

"No, think about it," she cut in, forcing him to listen whether he wanted to or not. 

"It was obvious Katara liked him. I'm not arguing that. But we also thought it was obvious Aang liked her too."

Sokka opened his mouth to respond, but the words stalled, choosing to let her finish.

"And maybe he did," she continued. "Maybe he still does. But technically, they were never official on any grounds. "

"That doesn't mean—" he started, but she did not let him finish.

"It means nothing was decided," she said. "If somehow Aang's feelings changed, we can't blame him for it. "

Sokka's expression tightened, then softened enough to show that he understood Toph's argument.

"That doesn't make this okay," he said after a moment.

"I didn't say it did," Toph replied. "I'm saying we can't act like he broke some rule or something."

Sokka leaned back slightly, dragging a hand over his face as he let that sit, the frustration in him shifting.

"It's just—ughh! Married? Aang won't do something like that on a whim!"

"But he did it already."

"I know. Did you see Katara's face? Even Aang must have noticed it, it was that obvious, fuck!"

"He didn't do it to hurt her."

Sokka didn't respond immediately.

"No," he admitted after a pause. "Of course not."

Aang was not careless, and he was not cruel. He did not make choices like that without reason, which meant there had to be one.

If Toph was vouching for the authenticity of Aang's marriage to you, then—

"...He really meant it," Sokka said, the realization settling in slower this time, heavier.

Toph nodded once. "Yeah."

Sokka exhaled, some of the tension leaving him, though it did not ease what remained.

After a pause, Sokka spoke again.

"What you said earlier... about him not telling the whole truth." His gaze flicked toward her. "Do you think we should tell Katara?"

Toph didn't answer right away. She leaned back slightly, considering the situation. Katara was a fierce woman, and although Toph was sure she won't do anything drastic, even she couldn't trust to stop things from going downhill.

"Not yet," she said after a moment. "She's already dealing with enough. Telling her that now isn't going to help."

Sokka frowned, though he didn't argue.

"So we just... don't say anything?"

"For now," Toph replied. "We wait. Maybe once Zuko gets here. We'll have a good old Team Avatar huddle! Uhh...without the Avatar, of course."

The answer did not satisfy him completely, but it settled enough for him to let it go, at least for the moment.

Toph shifted slightly, adjusting her posture before speaking again.

"When is Zuko getting here anyway?"

Sokka glanced at her, the shift in topic catching him slightly off guard before he answered.

"He should arrive by tomorrow afternoon."

Night settled over the city without resistance, the last of the noise fading. By the time you got settled in your new home, the world outside had quieted, leaving only the soft hush of the empty streets.

Inside your home, you lay beside Aang, the distance between you nonexistent, skin against skin beneath the covers, the warmth of him melting into your flesh. Your head rested against his chest, eyes fluttering to a close to the steady rhythm beneath your cheek.

Each breath of his matched your own without effort, his arm lay beneath you, holding you in place, while his other hand moved slowly through your hair.

Your fingers shifted lightly against him before your voice broke through the stillness.

“It seems your friends do not like me.”

Aang’s hand stilled for a brief moment before continuing its slow movement, his touch no different than it was before.

“They just met you,” he said. “It was unexpected.”

“That is one way to describe it.”

“They’ll come around,” he said after a moment. “It just takes time.”

There was no bitterness in your voice, only an acknowledgment that did not seek to challenge him. You shifted slightly, lifting your head to look at him.

“That water tribe girl,” you said. 

His hand slowed, and you felt the shift immediately. You held his gaze for a second longer before letting it fall, settling back against him, your cheek returning to its place over his chest, though now, the rhythm behind his chest had upped its tempo.

“That was her,” you continued, lifting your head again, your eyes finding his. “Was it not?”

He did not answer immediately. To be honest, he did not need to. You had understood plenty.

“Yes.”

The word settled between you, and you smiled.

“I see.”

You heaved a sigh, feeling your own heartbeat speed up.

“I am sorry,” you said after a moment.

Aang's reaction was immediate as he frowned faintly

“There’s no need for that.”

"I feel as though there is." His hand stilled again, resting lightly against your back now, no longer moving.

“I made my feelings very clear to you, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said.

“Perhaps not,” you answered. “But that does not mean no one was hurt.”

The honesty in your voice did not leave room for dismissal. Something in his expression shifted then, softening.

“She’ll be alright,” he said after a moment, though the words carried less certainty than he might have intended.

You did not respond to that directly.

“Your friends are important to you.”

“Yes.”

There was no hesitation.

You nodded faintly, your breath evening out again against him.

“Then I hope they will come to accept me.”

“They will,” Aang replied, more certain this time, his hand resuming its slow movement through your hair, steady, grounding. “It just might take some time.”

The tension eased slightly, but Aang didn't need to see your face to know what you were feeling at the moment.

Then, almost as an afterthought, his tone shifted.

“And you haven’t even met my closest friend yet.”

You tilted your head slightly, just enough to look up at him again.

“Oh?”

Aang smiled faintly.

“Zuko,” he said. “The Fire Lord. He’ll be visiting soon.”

He leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead, urging you to sleep, before settling his head back onto the pillow.

“I think you’ll like him.”

chapter two coming soon...

a/n: i feel like this story has potential.

[taglist open]

NSFW

!baker armin, who lets you lick the frosting off his fingers..watching your tongue twirl around them slowly.

he knows you two are only supposed to be friends but even he can’t deny the sexual tension. You’re just so beautiful, he can’t help it.

!baker armin, who volunteers to help teach you how to bake comes over to your place late one night and things get intense..and ends up showing you more than measurements and cooking.

!baker armin, who stands behind you, working his hands up and down your body underneath that cute apron, helplessly grinding against you. Loves kissing your neck and suckling on it.

“this is a very important step, I promise..”

!baker armin, who’s most certainly into food play lovesss undressing you and placing dots and trails of whipped cream on your nipples, stomach and clit before delicately licking them off..

does the same for you; letting you put a trail of it on his shaft before sucking it off.

he’s such a pleasure dom that he will stay on his knees and eat your pussy for what feels like an entire hour. Kissing, lapping and sucking all over you because you ‘taste so sweet.’

“I told you going this late is worth it,” Eren closed the trunk filled with your groceries for the upcoming week, wheeling away the cart to the mostly empty corral a few spots down the dimly lit parking lot.

He returned a moment later, getting in the driver’s side and shutting the door behind him as he continued his thought, “No lines at the checkout, no random lady who just happens to be looking at the exact same box of cereal at the exact same time as me breathing down my neck....” he mused as he placed the key in the ignition.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed, “I’m not opposed, I just get freaked out being in an empty parking lot this late,” you looked out the window as you said it, a single stray shopping cart under the street lamp created the perfect eerie scene to illustrate your point, “It’s creepy.”

At your prompting, his eyes scanned the parking lot, taking in the array of vacant spots and tumbling leaves across the pavement. You were right, it was a little creepy that there wasn’t another soul sight... but the unexpected solitude also sparked an idea in your insatiable boyfriend’s mind that had him quickly dismissing the eerie scene altogether.

He turned to you, mischievous glint in his eye, “Empty huh?”

“Eren...” you immediately warned, knowing full well what that look implied.

“What?!” he pulled the keys from the ignition, quickly finding himself on the defense, “You know it’s like, one of my biggest fantasies!”

“A fantasy we have lived out many times!” you argued back just as fiercely.

“Because it’s wonderful,” he reached to the side of his seat, pulling the lever to move backward. He had clearly already made up his mind on the matter.

You sighed, “...We have ice cream in the trunk,” a useless attempt at reasoning, knowing full well your own resolve was already slipping right alongside his.

As insatiable as Eren was, you wouldn’t lie to yourself and say the indescribable pull you felt toward him left you any less needy.

It’s not your fault he always looked so handsome, even in the dim light of the empty parking lot. Even as he fought to make room in the tiny sedan you purchased before you met your giant of a boyfriend. His sharp jaw line, those pretty green eyes, the stray hairs that decorated the nape of his neck... the ones that you loved to run your fingers through late at night while he...you lost your train of thought when you saw the uptick of the corner of his mouth into a tiny smirk. It was clearly all over your face where your daydream was leading you if he was looking this smug in the passenger seat.

“C’mere baby,” he patted his thighs twice with a smile, “Want you to ride me.”

You let out a deep sigh, knowing full well the slick collecting in your panties had started the moment he sent you that very first look - all you were doing was delaying the inevitable at this point.

Still, you allowed yourself one last hesitation, always curious to see just how much Eren was willing to work for what he wanted.

Luckily for you, your patience paid off almost immediately - you watched Eren’s hand move to his sweatpants where he slowly started to stroke the imprint of his hardening cock, showing off his length through the thin fabric, his other hand held out in waiting for you.

“Baby,” he gulped, choking back a groan as his thumb brushed the tip of his cock through his sweatpants, “Need you. Please.”

Your core pulsed at his words, you would be a fool to deny it any longer. So with one final glance around the empty parking lot, you slid your jacket off your arms, grabbing Eren’s open palm as you maneuvered your body over the center console and onto his lap.

You thanked your earlier self for picking out the simple summer dress you were wearing this evening, too lazy to change after coming back from an afternoon with your friends. It’s versatility meant that when you did find your place in his lap, you were immediately met with the tempting press of his hard cock against your cunt through just a few measly layers of fabric.

“If we get caught this time...” you whispered, steadying yourself on his lap.

“Don’t worry,” his hands settled on your hips, forcing a slow drag across his cock, “No one gets to see this pretty little cunt but me,” he nuzzled his nose against yours for just a moment as he said it.

Following Eren’s lead, your hips began a slow roll, dragging your cunt across his cock as he began gently rutting against you with each movement. Your hands took place on his strong shoulders, his slowly sliding up your curves until he could pull the flimsy straps of your dress down your shoulders.

He leaned forward, lips tracing sweet kisses across your collarbone and up the tender skin of your neck. You let your head fall back, offering up more of your delicate skin to the press of his lips.

“My perfect girl,” he nipped at your shoulder and a tiny moan slipped out of your lips, “Gives me this tight little pussy whenever I need it,” you felt his smile against your skin as he said it.

Your eyes closed as you leaned your head forward onto his broad shoulder, “Put it in Ren,” you whispered, already desperate for more than the shameless dry humping and heavy breathing that was fogging up the car windows more and more with each passing second.

He chuckled beneath you, “Y’know, you’re always giving me a hard time,” his hand dipped down to slide your panties to the side, “fuckin wet,” he whispered when his fingers felt your bare cunt, sliding two inside with ease and pulling a small gasp from your lips. “Acting like you don’t love a quick fuck as much as I do...but what if I just wanna play with you awhile?” he continued his rambling as you ground down shamelessly on his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whispered in response, it always shocked you how easily he could spew filth from those pretty lips, not that you weren’t thankful for it.

You felt the pleasure building in your core. You could easily cum from his fingers alone, it certainly wouldn’t be the first time and would absolutely get the job done... but you didn’t want that right now. And wasn’t he the one who suggested it first? You wanted him to fuck you.

So as warm and comfy as you felt snuggled into his neck while he toyed with your cunt, you knew what had to be done. You leaned back until you were sitting up straight in his lap, his fingers slowed as you made eye contact, reaching your hands down to the hem of your dress, pulling it up over your chest and exposing the soft expanse of your skin for his viewing pleasure.

Eren’s eyes immediately trailed down to where his fingers were stuffed in your cunt, tiny smirk pulling on his lips at how messy you were already. It was a good thing you would be heading straight home after this with the way your slick coated his sweatpants, marking right where you sat pretty on his lap.

“Please Eren...” his gaze travelled back up your body until he landed on your fully formed pout, lower lip jutted out and practically begging for him to take between his teeth.

He let his head fall back against the headrest, giving you a lazy smile under half lidded eyes. He pulled his fingers from your center, motioning you to lift up just a little while his hands reached the elastic of his sweatpants. There, he expertly tugged his hard cock free, giving it a few languid strokes before lining it up with your dripping center.

With your dress still held firmly in your hands, you peeked down, hoping to catch a glimpse of the moment his cock slipped inside, content to finally feel the delicious, deep stretch only Eren could provide... but instead were caught off guard when his free hand ripped your dress from your grip. Your head shot up to find that same lazy smile still on his lips, although growing a bit wider now as he shoved the fabric of your dress into your mouth that had fallen slightly open from shock.

“Hold it there, babe,” he tapped your chin with two fingers, and before you could voice your arguments through the makeshift gag that was your pretty summer dress, Eren’s hand gripped your thigh and pulled you down onto his cock in one swift motion.

Your cries of pleasure were muffled through the fabric of your dress. Finally. You were so full and it felt heavenly.

“Oh fuck baby,” he groaned out low, “Good girl, keep it held up for me, kay? Look how stuffed you are...” he pulled at the fat of your thighs to better his view of his cock buried deep inside you.

With a view like that, he couldn’t help but to smooth up your skin, traveling around your hips until he could grab a handful of your ass, then pulling you forward to grind on his cock.

Your jaw locked on the fabric in your mouth as you moaned, your clit rubbing along his pelvic bone in a way that had you dizzy with lust.

“Hey,” he landed a harsh smack against your ass, “Thought you were gonna ride my cock?”

You nodded, eager to please the handsome boy beneath you.

“Good girl,” he shifted in his seat to get comfy, one hand stayed settled on your hip, the other tucked behind his neck, showcasing the flex of his toned bicep as his lazy smile returned, “Go on then,” he urged.

Under his direction you planted your hands firm on his shoulders, using what little space you had in the driver’s seat of your car to steady yourself before slowly dragging your hips up...then slamming them back down.

His eyes closed through a groan as you lifted up, teeth gnawing at the fabric still held in your mouth to distract you from the overwhelming pleasure with each slow drag up his cock. When you let your hips fall once more, you decided you had enough of the slow pace and picked back up immediately, bouncing hard and fast, his cock driving into you deep.

“Fuck, s-so good baby,” he opened his eyes, gaze fixated on the way your cunt sucked in his cock with each movement.

He moved the hand that rested on your hip, shifting it so his thumb could start rubbing slow circles on your clit as you continued to ride him. You tried to cry out his name, but only tiny muffled whimpers could be heard as you climbed toward your peak.

“God you’re so...fuck, c’mere,” he didn’t give you any time to figure out what he meant as both of his hands gripped your hips, lifting you just slightly before he began fucking up into you.

Your head fell forward in pleasure, the new angle allowing him to brush up against your g spot with every thrust. You felt the shake of the car as he fucked you hard and fast. The fog on the windows simultaneously hiding your sinful act while at the same time making it painfully obvious exactly what was going on inside the lone car of the abandoned parking lot.

“Close baby? Gonna cum?” you nodded furiously at his questioning, clenching down hard as he continued his relentless pace.

“Wanna hear it,” he reached one hand forward, tugging on the fabric until your jaw relaxed and the fabric fell from your lips, freeing your voice and your tongue to meet his in a sloppy kiss.

“I’m gonna cum, Ren,” you moaned shakey against his mouth.

“I know,” he delivered a harsh thrust as he bit your lower lip, “Can feel it.”

You pulled him back into another wet kiss and after a few more perfect snaps of his hips, collapsed onto his shoulder as you came hard around him.

“Fuck...please...” you whimpered his name, clinging to him as he continued to fuck you through your high.

“Fuck,” he grit out through his teeth, “You’re squeezing me so tigh - ah, fuck, babe. I’m cumming...” his hips sputtered as he came, releasing deep inside your sensitive cunt with a gruff moan.

Your legs trembled, body heavy as you continued coming down from your own peak at the same time Eren reached his own.

When his hips finally began to slow, both of you finding your way back down from the bliss of your orgasms, his hands dipped under your dress, smoothing up your back as he held you close through the aftershocks.

“Ugh,” was the first thing he groaned out after a few moments and you understood why immediately as you felt his warm cum start to spill out of your cunt and on to his lap below.

“You didn’t have to cum inside you know,” you spoke into his neck, still slightly out of breath.

“Course I did, but still...” he shifted uncomfortably as his cum continued to drip slowly out of you.

“I put the paper towels in the backseat, just...hold on..” you used his shoulders to pull yourself up, maneuvering into the passenger seat and reaching back to rip open the new package of paper towels, handing Eren a roll.

He cleaned himself up quickly and you both straightened out any clothing that had gone askew. If it wasn’t for the dark spot decorating Eren’s sweatpants any passerby would be none the wiser to the fact that you had just rode him in the driver’s seat.

You pulled your seatbelt back into place, glancing over at Eren and expecting him to have a perfectly blissed out look to match your own only to find a sour one gracing his features instead. He wiped the fog from the driver’s side window with his hands before finally turning to face you.

“What?” you asked him, unsure of what could possibly be troubling him after such great sex.

He sighed, looking down at the steering wheel as he inserted the keys back into the ignition, “...Ice creams definitely melted...” he muttered out.

You rolled your eyes, “I did tell you that, but someone loves to get his dick wet in a Honda Civic.”

He shrugged, reaching one arm back to rest on your seat as he reversed out of the spot, “I’ll remember that next time I hear Oh Eren please put it in!” he mocked your voice, a tiny smile on his lips as he craned his neck to look out the rear window.

You held your tongue, stifling a tiny giggle as you, Eren and your melted ice cream peeled out of the abandoned parking lot and headed home.

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble but WHATEVER DEAL WITH IT <3 Also it’s an empty parking lot why did I have him reverse out of the spot lmaooo (it’s for the imagery I won’t lie to myself)