aria

Los Angeles was in its rainy season and there had been a constant downpour for the past three days. The storm made everything look soft, gray, and endless.

And it was during this time that Michael hired Alejandro. He had found the man himself— a soft-spoken instructor that taught Spanish to beginner students. Alejandro had excellent reviews and a calm demeanor that Michael thought would be perfect for you. 

The Latin American leg of the tour was coming up, and soon you’d be in a different city every few days. Michael had looked at you one night while you were curled up against him and asked quietly,

“I want you to come with me this time. Experience all of it. But I don’t want you feelin’ lost when we go places where no one speaks English. Let me find you somebody good who can help?”

Flattered was the best way to express how you felt in the moment. It was an indicator that things were getting more serious between the two of you. Michael had never asked any woman to accompany him on tour before. 

He understood that his life came with a lot. Whoever his person was would have to sacrifice the simplicity of their everyday life in exchange for being with him. You had shown him you could handle it, and for that he was more grateful than you understood.

You’d simply smiled and told him he didn’t have to do that, but he brushed your hair away from your face like he always did and insisted.

“I wanna do it. I never want my life to make yours smaller.”

Michael didn’t want you to feel confined in the way he did when he was on the road. So, he figured if you could get some conversational Spanish under your belt, you’d be able to visit shops, museums, and whatever else interested you without feeling like an outsider.

So naturally, Alejandro started coming over three times a week to give you private one on one lessons. You were easily embarrassed and wanted to have the privacy to learn in peace.

Everything was fine at first. During your lessons, Michael would sit quietly at the kitchen island sipping his tea. He never interrupted. Just watched you practice and admired the focused little frown that settled over your features when you struggled with getting a new phrase right. 

Every time you mastered something new, your face would light up. A soft, warm laugh would spill out. Michael would smile to himself quietly and proudly. He’d think about how lucky he was that this beautiful woman with her soft voice and eclectic personality had chosen him.

To say Michael was obsessed with you would be an understatement. He was infatuated with you in a quiet consuming way that frightened him at times.

He loved the way your body felt in his hands. How it felt pressed against him late at night. Your skin was always soft and warm. He loved the little sounds you would make when he kissed the back of your neck while you were busy doing something. 

He especially loved how your voice would drop into a familiar cadence when you were talking to your mama or family on the phone. The same rhythm and vernacular he had grown up hearing around his family.

He’d watch your mouth when you spoke to him. Often, he’d lose track of the actual words you were saying to him because he was too busy staring at the shape of your lips and thinking about how pretty they were. He would end up kissing you in place of a response, soft and lingering. 

And, he had already started looking for the perfect ring. 

One night while you were sleeping, Michael took it upon himself to size your ring finger. Luckily for him, you were a pretty heavy sleeper.

On the rare occasion that he had free time in his day, Michael found himself meeting with private jewelers and perusing options he’d picked out just for you. 

He still wasn’t satisfied yet. The ring needed to be perfect, something you’d be proud to show off to your girlfriends and family. He imagined the way your face would look when he finally asked. Everything had to be right and the timing had to be perfect. 

He wanted you to feel safe and chosen. So, everything was great, until it wasn’t. 

Things changed the day that Alejandro started staying longer than scheduled. It started with small, harmless things.

Michael passed the room he set up for your lessons one day and overheard Alejandro offering to take you to some hole in the wall place to try authentic arepas. 

Involuntarily, his steps slowed down as he ear hustled to see what your response would be. You politely declined and Michael let out a deep breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

And from that day on, Michael was on Alejandro's ass. He noticed everything. 

The way he’d correct your accent by gently touching your chin so he could watch your mouth form the words correctly. How he’d linger just a little too long after the lesson was over, talking about music or places he’d lived. 

Or the one that made Michael clench his jaw so hard it hurt— complimenting how beautiful your laugh was after you finally got a tough phrase right.

That was when he started closing his studio door more often. 

Physically Michael was there, mentally? He was somewhere else. 

He started answering your questions with polite staccato answers instead of the long drawn-out conversations you used to have. After that it was the kisses. The long, lingering kisses he’d leave on your lips turned into gentle forehead kisses. 

And most painfully for you, his constant obsessive touching stopped. No more pulling you into his lap the second you walked past him or hands finding your waist or the back of your neck absentmindedly during the day.

The distance was startling to you, but you just assumed he was really focused on work. Michael had a habit of immersing himself in his craft to the point that he’d forget to eat and sleep.

It was a Thursday when you looked over at the clock and realized Alejandro had stayed nearly an hour past the session end time. You were in the middle of laughing about something he said about a difficult conjugation when you looked up and caught Michael standing in the hallway. 

His arms were crossed and he was watching with a completely blank expression. Wordlessly, he had turned and entered his studio, closing the door softly behind him. 

That night, he barely spoke to you. It was extremely abnormal. 

Usually, Michael talked your ear off to the point where you had to escape to the den for quiet time to read your book, or to watch t.v.. You loved the man dearly, but when that mouth started goin’ it didn’t stop.

He cooked in silence that night. Left a plate for you wrapped in foil on top of the stove, and disappeared back into his studio till nearly 3am. And when he did finally come to bed, he stayed on his side with his back turned to you. Michael usually held you so close to him during the night that you had to separate from him in his sleep because you’d wake up sweating like he’d been trying to fuse the two of you together.

That was when you started to think, maybe it wasn’t just work…

So, you tried to talk to him the next morning. He was sitting at the island and reading the day’s paper. As you walked behind him you trailed your fingertips gently across his shoulder blades. The touch sent chills down his spine— like it always did when you touched him. Still, his eyes stayed on the paper.

“Morning, mama” he said simply. He didn’t turn to kiss you and he didn’t trail his gaze over your face slowly, taking you in the way he usually did like he hadn’t seen you in forever.

“Mikey, are you okay baby?” Your fingers had trailed up to massage his earlobe before drifting to twirl one of his curls. He allowed the touch and leaned into it slightly. 

“I’m fine.” He murmured, sipping his tea.

“You’ve been super distant. Tell me somethin’.” Your gaze stayed on him and he was quiet for a moment.

“Just been workin’, that’s all.”

“Michael” your tone held a warning.

He finally met your eyes and immediately you noticed the ghost of something sad in them. 

“Just… focus on your lessons baby. Tour’s coming and I want you to be ready.” Then he'd folded his newspaper and left the room quietly.

You stared at him a moment longer as he walked away. Really, you weren’t ready to let the subject die. But you left it alone anyway, and the fear that something else was going on only grew larger.

This wasn’t like him at all. Nothing about Michael Jackson was nonchalant, he was not a man who did distant. 

Especially not with you.

He would pause a conversation just to pull your closer and press his face into your neck like the smell of you was keeping him breathing. Sometimes he’d interrupt his own sentences just to tell you your skin was glowing in the warm morning light. He got quiet and shy when he’d talk about how much he yearned to marry you someday soon. And he meant sooner than you knew.

That was why when he began pulling away you knew in your gut something was off.

You just didn’t realize it was your growing rapport with Alejandro. And— that Michael was watching so closely.

Every afternoon when Alejandro came over, Michael would intentionally leave his studio door cracked. He hated it, but sometimes he’d stand in the hallway out of sight with his heart in his throat listening to how easily the two of you carried on conversation. How Alejandro's voice would go all soft when he’d correct you. Which ironically, was one of the reasons Michael had picked him for you. Now he was kicking himself.

He heard the way you’d laugh with your whole belly when Alejandro would make a joke Michael thought was corny. And he heard the way Alejandro said your name like it tasted good in his mouth.

Every single time, something dark and helpless wound tighter in Michael’s chest.

He never said anything to Alejandro despite these feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was embarrass you. He realized how silly it would look for him to do that when he had hired the man and invited him into his home specifically for you. 

Deep down, Michael knew the man was just doing his job. A tutor should be friendly and encouraging— but Alejandro was just a little too charming.

This knowledge brought Michael no comfort. The truth was simple and brutal:

Michael felt like everybody wanted his woman. And the thought of you giving someone else even a portion of what he got from you made him sick to his stomach with jealousy and fear.

He loved the way you cooked for him, and how the whole house would smell like garlic and onions and whatever seasoning blend you’d chosen. You’d taste something off the spoon and always hold it out for him, saying “Taste it baby, lemme know how it tastes”. He’d brush his lips over your fingers, murmuring how delicious it was.

Any time you’d press a small hand against his chest when you passed him in the hallway his heart would flutter underneath it. The way you smoothed his clothing or played with his hair gave him chills every time.

He loved to brush curls way from your face when you were focused on something— and how you’d scrunch your nose and bat his hand away, mumbling “Boy leave my hair alone” even though you never actually stopped him.

Every intimate part of your life together started to feel threatened when Alejandro walked through the door, and Michael was in agony.

When he stood in the hallway listening to you two talking he felt like his heart was being slowly crushed in a fist. He’d go back to his studio, attempting to do anything close to working. But he’d end up staring at the same few bars of music for an hour while his mind endlessly replayed how Alejandro's hand had brushed the small of your back when he helped you find the right page in your textbook.

He started coming to bed late intentionally on the days you had lessons so he wouldn’t have to face the soft worried look you kept giving him. 

And every night, he’d lie awake in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to your breathing and think:

She’s mine. She’s mine. She’s mine. Please be only mine.

The last straw was on a Friday. 

Alejandro had just finished up for the day, and he was packing his bag when he casually said, “There’s a little place in east LA that does the best chiles rellenos this time of year. Private, quiet. I could take you tomorrow after we finish. Help you practice ordering in Spanish. Real conversation.”

Before he had finished the invitation you were already shaking your head politely. 

“Thanks Alejandro, but Michael and I have plans.”

Alejandro's smile remained, but his eyes flicked to the hallway. 

“He works a lot huh? Pretty lady like you deserves to get out sometimes.” 

You had laughed it off thinking the comment was just friendly. Unbeknownst to you, Michael heard every word from the doorway of his studio.

Something in him snapped.

He waited in his studio, swiveling back and forth in his office chair and tapping his foot impatiently. He waited until the front door closed and the sound of the man’s engine faded into the distance. Then he stood up so fast the chair squeaked and rocked backwards.

He went straight to the kitchen where you were still standing by the table putting away your study materials. 

When you looked up the smile on your face died immediately as you took in the expression on Michael’s face.

“What’s up? Why you lookin’ at me like that?” Concerned, you stepped around the island and came closer to him. Rain was streaking the window behind him and he was rubbing a hand over his face.

“Baby, you don’t see how he looks at you?” He sighed, finally speaking his mind. For a moment you just looked at him and blinked. You were totally lost.

“What are you talking about?”

“Alejandro” the name came out like it hurt to say. “The way he’s leaning in too close when you talk. Him watching your mouth when you talk. The dinner invitations. And now, “Pretty lady like you should get out sometime”? You makin’ me crazy on purpose? Did I do something wrong?”

His eyes were glassy and a little wild.

Your stomach dropped. So that’s what’s going on. 

“Baby no… it’s just lessons. I’m getting ready for tour like we talked about. That’s all.”

Michael’s hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. Usually, he reached for you when he was scared or uncertain. He looked away shaking his head as he dragged his tongue over his bottom lip as he thought about what to say next. 

“You know how I feel about you.” His voice was softer than he intended when it came out. “You know what you are to me...And I have to sit in the next room listening to him tryna get closer to you every day like I don’t exist. Like what we have don’t mean nothin… like he could just take you.”

You stepped toward him carefully and placed your palms on his chest in an attempt to ground him.

“I only want you, Michael. You know that. There’s nobody else. Never has been.”

He stared at you for a long second, heart thumping behind his ribs under your palms. His voice cracked when he spoke again, almost like he was pleading,

“You’re so special and I wake up every day terrified somebody’s gonna see that and try to take you from me. I can’t breathe right when he’s in your face like that. I can’t think when he touches you like that. I keep imagining you laughin’ with him how we laugh… and it feels like my chest is caving in.”

Your heart swelled at the raw honesty in his tone.

“I need you,” He said, eyes shiny. “Need you so bad it scares me. You’re the only thing that feels real to me. Only person who makes the noise in my head go quiet. And the thought of losin’ you—” he shut his eyes tightly. “Somebody else touching you… it makes me sick. Please. Prove it to me. Prove you’re still mine.”

He looked a little embarrassed at how desperate he sounded but he didn’t take it back. He just stood there in the dim lighting, hands trembling slightly at his sides, waiting for you to save him from the fear that had been eating him up for weeks now. You didn’t hesitate.

“Okay. Anything.”

His heart skipped a beat at the way you said it. He gently closed his fingers over one of the hands pressed against his chest and turned to lead you to your shared bedroom. 

Once you were inside, Michael turned to you with dark, hungry eyes.

“Strip for me, baby.”

Immediately, you obeyed. Slowly, you shed every piece of clothing until you were totally bare in front of him. The cold breeze flowing through the cracked window kissed your skin and made your nipples pebble. His gaze raked over your body greedily, like he was memorizing every curve and beauty mark.

He didn’t remove any of his clothing. His sweater and jeans remained. His eyes watched you like something he wanted to both ruin and protect all at once. 

Slowly, he walked toward you till he was close enough for his breath to ghost over your lips. You breathing hitched as you looked from his lips to his eyes and back again.

A soft sound came from your throat when he didn’t kiss you. Instead, he grazed his fingers over your belly and said, “Lay back for me, pretty.” He guided you backwards onto the bed so you were flat on your back and settled beside you, one knee bent as he rested on his side.

His fingers trailed along the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of goose bumps. The first touch of his fingers against your sex made you inhale sharply. 

He traced through your folds, testing how wet you were already. His middle finger came up to gently circle your clit. When you moaned softly, his eyes flicked up to your face, drinking in every little expression.

Then, he pressed two fingers inside you slow and deep. Immediately his fingers found that soft, spongy spot and curled against it. At the same time, his thumb began circling your clit again in gentle circles.

The dual sensation had your thighs quaking already. The stretch of his long fingers and the precise pressure against that tender spot deep inside you made your hips twitch helplessly. Heat spread through your abdomen in slow, heavy waves. Each stroke sending a sharp pulse to your core.

“Look at you,” He murmured, eyes still trained on you. “Already so wet for me and I barely touched you. Been walkin’ around with that tutor, lettin’ him look at you like that… makin’ me crazy. Now this pussy’s creaming and clenchin’ on my fingers the second I put my fingers in it.”

You whimpered and your hips rolled toward his hand. You wanted him so bad it hurt. Your hands reached for him and you tried to pull him down to kiss you, but he only hovered. Lips brushing yours but never quite giving you the real thing while his fingers kept stroking you.

“Not yet, baby” He whispered against your lips. “You been makin’ me feel like I was losin’ you. Now, you’re gonna feel how scared I’ve been.”

He fingers worked you open with slow precision. The first orgasm built deep and heavy in your core until it finally broke. Your back arched into him hard, and a soft cracked moan slipped out of you as your walls fluttered around his fingers. He didn’t stop when your thighs started shaking.

“That’s one, gimme another. Show me who this pussy belongs to.”

The second orgasm took longer and was more intense. Your face contorted from the overwhelming sensation between your legs and your eyes fluttered helplessly. His fingers kept simultaneously stimulating the soft ridge of nerves inside you and your clit, and it was making you see stars. 

Your arousal dripped down Michael’s wrist when it hit and your whole body felt oversensitive. 

The second he pulled his fingers away and sucked them into his mouth, you were on him. You sat up fast and yanked at his sweater with desperate hands. You were so needy it was almost feral. Now empty and aching to be filled by him. Michael gasped and let out a soft surprised laugh.

“Oh baby, look at you. So needy you can’t even wait, huh?” He helped you just enough, allowing you to shove his sweater up and over his head. Then came his jeans and boxers, far enough that his dick sprang free, thick and hard, leaking pre-cum.

Michael’s heart flipped when he observed the hungry yearning look you gave him as you admired him. 

“C’mere baby” he murmured. He sat back against the headboard with his legs spread and pulled you into his lap. He bit down on his bottom lip as he watched you straddle him and slowly sink down on him, inch by inch. 

He let out a shaky moan and his head tilted back when he was finally buried to the hilt. The fullness made your breath catch in your throat.

The whole time your eyes stayed locked on his. His lips were already swollen from the way you’d been kissing and biting them. His mouth kept falling open with soft whimpers and his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

You stayed there for a second, just feeling him stretch you completely. Once you adjusted to his size, you began rocking your hips in slow circles while keeping him completely inside you. With every movement, your breasts brushed his chest and your nipples dragged over his warm skin. Leaning in, you kissed him soft and messy while your hands cradled his face.

“I love you,” You whispered against his lips. The words were shaky from how full you felt. “I only want you baby. You’re the only one who makes me feel like this… I’m yours”

The combination of your soft voice and the skin-to-skin contact paired with the way you were rolling your hips against his made his eyes roll back. A long, broken whimper slipped from his lips and his head fell back against the headboard again in orgasmic bliss.

“You feel so good baby.” He moaned high and shakily. “So, so good. I can feel you flutterin’ around me just right.” 

You kept going, slow and deliberate while whispering soft reassurances to him. How no one else could ever make you feel this full, this loved. Every roll of your hips brushed your clit against him and sent a heavy pulse of pleasure through your core. The obscene sounds of you creaming on him filled the room, and his hands gripped your hips like he was trying to anchor himself.

The slow, deep grind pushed him over the edge with a cracked surprised moan, and he started pulsing hard inside you. You felt every spurt— the sudden heat, and the way he filled you until you were dripping down his balls. With every continued roll of your hips, it smeared between you. The sensation of being so full of him made your walls twitch around him.

Michael only gave himself a few seconds to recover, then he moved. He flipped you onto your back so fast it knocked the wind out of you. Then your thighs were pushed up until they almost touched your chest. 

He teased you, dragging the head of his cock against you and nudging your clit just to hear you whimper. His eyes trailed over your blissed out features adoringly. Leaning in, he pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as he sunk into you with one, smooth motion. Your mouth fell open and he kissed you through it.

When he pulled away, his chain dangled in your face and he exhaled shakily. You breathed in his scent as your lips brushed his collar bone. Then, you took his chain between your teeth.

He looked down at you and a lovesick smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You’re so perfect, baby” He murmured as he continued to rock his hips deep into you, barely pulling out at all in between strokes. He was fully feral now. He kissed you all over your face, cheeks, eyelids, and your nose. Then he licked the drool from the corner of your mouth before claiming your lips again in a messy kiss. 

Every time the thick head of his dick dragged over the swollen bundle of nerves inside you, your walls pulsed and he moaned into your mouth like he could feel it too. Pleasure built in slow waves and your eyes rolled back from the sensation.

“You feel that, baby? How you keep flutterin’ around the head of my dick every time I grind into that little spot.” He kissed you again as you whimpered. “So sensitive and perfect for me”. He kept massaging the head into the soft spongy tissue with every roll of his hips. The next orgasm built under the relentless pressure, and you cried out when you came hard, legs shaking in the air.

He didn’t stop.

“I’m sorry, princess” he said softly, still grinding and kissing you. “I know it’s too much and you’re sensitive, but I need you so bad. Let me feel it baby. Cum on my dick again so I know you’re mine. Only mine”

Involuntarily your next orgasm came not long after. Your face was wrecked with bliss and your saliva-slicked lips kept parting with broken moans as he kept abusing the small bundle of nerves. The pleasure was tipping into overstimulation, and your thighs were quaking as your core convulsed.

“Look at you,” He cooed in a lovesick tone. “Can’t stop cummin’ for me, can you baby? All I gotta do is let the head of my dick kiss that lil tender spot and you fall apart for me every time. So pretty like this, mama. Creamin’ all over me like a good girl.”

He kept you like that until you were shaking and tears slipped down your temples from the overstimulation. Then, he pulled out just long enough to flip you onto your stomach and shoved a pillow under your hips. Your face was turned toward the mirror across from the bed.

In one deep thrust, he sank back inside you and started grinding again. The new angle let you watch everything.

Then he did something that made you short-circuit.

Michael planted one foot on the bed with a bent knee to give himself leverage to dig even deeper. The pressure was intense and you could feel him in your stomach. All the while, his eyes stayed locked on yours in the mirror. Every time your eyes started to flutter shut, he gently gathered a handful of your hair and tugged just enough to keep your gaze on the reflection.

“Look how pretty you look gettin’ fucked like this baby. Don’t look away. Want you to watch this pretty face while you cum for me. Watch how good you’re takin’ me”

At this point, everything falling from your lips was nonsensical as you tried to gather your thoughts. The vulnerability of watching yourself made everything that much more intense. You could see your expression, eyes half lidded, mouth open and drooling while he fucked you deep and steady. 

Every time your eyes threatened to close, he gave your hair another gentle tug to force you to see exactly what he was doing to you. Your next orgasm hit while you were staring at yourself. It felt so good it almost hurt. Your walls continued to clamp around him in weak overstimulated pulses. Tears continued to drip down your cheeks as you watched the mess you two were making in the mirror. 

Sweat glistened on Michael’s abdomen, and you moaned as beads began to drip down his chest, his cum and your arousal smeared everywhere.

“I should keep you like this all day,” he groaned as he kept grinding deep. “Pinned and stuffed full like this, strokin’ that little spot ‘till your eyes roll back. I could keep this pretty pussy cummin’ for me until you can’t even remember your own name. Would you like that, baby?”

The only thing you could do was sob and nod in agreement as another orgasm built in your already spent body. Michael’s orgasm was long and drawn out. His lips parted and an orgasmic expression spread across his features as he stared at you in the mirror. He slowed his strokes down more to keep abusing that spot inside you, deep and intentional.

One hand came down in a smack on your ass that was hard enough to sting. A broken moan spilled from his lips as he continued stroking.

“I love you. Fuck— I love you baby, so much” he gasped.

Suddenly, the depth and pressure was too much and your lower belly tightened sharply. Your hands weakly attempted to push back against his stomach from the intensity. 

But Michael didn’t let you. He grabbed both your wrists in one big hand and pinned them firmly behind your back, holding you open and helpless as he kept grinding deep. Your body was completely at his mercy, and it made everything feel so much more intense.

“Stop runnin’ from me. You know you want me to keep makin’ you cream like this. Ain't that right, baby?”

“Y-yes Michael. P-please” His features lit up as you started to beg. He smirked at you in the mirror and said, 

“Please what, baby? Please don’t stop makin’ this pussy cum?” His lips brushed against your ear as he stared at you in the mirror. Then, he nudged that sensitive bundle of nerves once more, and the pressure broke.

You squirted hard around him in a messy uncontrollable gush that soaked the both of you. Your walls pulsed violently and you swore you saw stars as you let out a high pitched whine.

The second you started squirting, Michael buried himself all the way to the hilt and pressed his hips flush against you so that he was pressed gently against your cervix.

He held himself there, as deep as your body would take him and moaned “Good girl, baby”. His voice was thick with lust as he admired your reflection.

“Doin’ so good for me… squirtin’ all over me while I’m in your stomach, walls jumpin’ like you’re tryna milk me… you love me baby? Love gettin' your pussy ruined like this?”

You tried and failed to respond, only managing to stutter out broken “I love you’s”. The sensation of you cumming around him was so intense it dragged another orgasm out of him. 

Michael’s mouth fell open and he moaned high and shakily as your pussy milked another load from his oversensitive dick. Hot spurts flooded you while he stayed buried.

“Fuck baby— you’re milkin’ me so good— shit” he whimpered, hips twitching helplessly as you kept pulsing around him, dragging out every last drop until he was shaking and overstimulated right along with you.

He stayed deep inside you afterward. You both were trembling and filthy and completely spent. The rain kept falling outside. His lips found the side of your neck and kissed softly.

“I love you, I’m so sorry. I just got so scared. I… I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me. I can’t help it.” he whispered with a hoarse tone.

You reached back as much as his grip would allow and found his fingers, lacing them with yours. Your body was still pulsing with little aftershocks and you were still sensitive, but the emotional weight of his words filled your chest with warmth.

“You’re not gonna lose me,” you whispered back. “I’m right here. Always.”

He gently adjusted so that he was spooning your shaking frame. He held you tighter, still inside you and still shaking a little from how bad he needed this.

For a long time neither of you moved, just breathing together while the rain continued to fall.

You were his. And he was never going to let you forget it.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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　WHEN MICHAEL CAST one last glance at the clock perched above the fireplace, he let out a tired sigh. The television screen was the only source of light in the room, its images throwing muted colours onto the singer’s exhausted face.

　It was almost three o’clock in the morning.

　Michael was no stranger to sleepless nights ━ those endless nights when he would sometimes find himself swamped with work. Yet tonight, it wasn’t that he lacked the desire to sleep. For once, he was utterly exhausted.

　But you still hadn’t come home, so there was no way in hell he was going to go to bed without you.

　His fingertips rolled over his thighs in a rhythm meant to be comforting and patient. He had been wearing his checked pyjama bottoms and his old white t-shirt ever since you had left the house a good six hours earlier.

　Michael was slumped on the sofa, a plate of ice cream abandoned on the coffee table, his eyes darting back and forth between Some Like It Hot and the clock, which, over the course of those six long hours, had become his worst enemy.

　He felt as though every tick-tock was actually mocking him, a way for it to remind him that you still weren’t there and that, despite the hours ticking by, time was passing oh so slowly.

　Michael had hesitated over whether to hurl the remote control at it or throw it into the fire. He wanted to put a stop to the taunts, but something told him that you wouldn’t appreciate him destroying your Canetti, which you had paid a small fortune for to fill that wall that had seemed too bare to you.

　He regretted not having invested in a dartboard instead…

　The singer shot another glare at his arch-enemy and, realising that only two minutes had passed, threw his head back, his curls falling limp against the velvet sofa. His stomach seemed to knot up again, and he found his lip caught between his front teeth.

　You should have been home at least a good fifteen minutes ago. Not that Michael was keeping tabs on you or expecting you to come home at a set time ━ no, you were perfectly entitled to have fun, he had complete faith in you ━ but your friend had phoned him from the bar where you were partying to let him know you were on your way home…

　And that had been twenty minutes ago.

　Michael liked to tell himself that he wasn’t the sort of boyfriend who made his girlfriend feel as if she were in prison with him but ━ damn ━ right at that moment he regretted it.

　He should have at least sent Bill.

　That was what his mind kept repeating over and over. He should have asked him to come and pick you up to make sure you got home safely, but your friend had told him that you had slipped away in a taxi, and it had been too late to send anyone to fetch you.

　Michael decided to wait another three short minutes before phoning Bill to ask him to come and pick him up so they could search the whole state for you.

　If anything happened to you, it would kill him. You had been his whole world ever since he first met you a few years ago. Love at first sight, Michael had told you, and ever since then, he had been certain that if you looked up love in the dictionary, you would find your name in the definition.

　You were going to walk through that door safe and sound, Michael was convinced of it; it couldn’t end like this. He took a twentieth deep breath, his foot unconsciously swaying from side to side on the coffee table.

　Where the hell were you?

　The metallic jingle of keys was enough to dispel the fear that was beginning to gnaw at him in the darkness of the living room.

　Michael sprang to his feet and raced across the room, his long legs giving him the edge. His hands were trembling slightly as he grabbed the door handle and flung the door open. The wood banged against the wall; there would surely be a mark, but he didn’t care.

　You had finally made it home safe and sound.

　"Oh, God thank you," he whispered. "I was getting worried sick, baby…"

　You had to cling to the door handle to stop yourself from falling. Your purse had slipped off your shoulder and was now dangling from your wrist, mirroring the pair of heels you were holding in your other hand. Your eyes were half-lidded, your lipstick had smudged and your eyeliner had run slightly at the corners of your eyes. You looked like a mess.

　"’m fi… ne…" you hiccuped.

　"Girl, you’re not fine," Michael chuckled, walking toward you. "Come here, let me help you get to bed━"

　You flinched back, almost falling to the ground as you pressed yourself flat against the door.

　"Noooooo!" you shouted suddenly. "Back… off! I have… a boyfriend, mis… mister. So… shoo!"

　Michael blinked. He let his arms fall to his sides, his eyebrows gradually furrowing. He glanced behind him, as if to check that there was no one else there whom you might be addressing, before turning his gaze back to you, looking completely confused.

　"You… you what now?"

　"A boyfriend!" you declared, trying to stand up straighter. "He’s tall and… handsome and str… ong… and he will… beat your ass… if you get too close to… me."

　If you hadn’t been so heavily intoxicated, Michael would probably have burst out laughing at the way you were talking. He wasn’t sure how you would react if he made fun of your hiccups.

　He opened his mouth to try to talk some sense into you, but when he saw how close you were to collapsing to the floor, he decided to take a different approach instead.

　"Oh, you got a man, huh?" he asked, taking a step closer to catch you just in case ━ he needed to get you to bed as soon as possible. "That’s a real shame, sweetheart. What’s he like, this boyfriend of yours?"

　You beamed at the question, swaying lightly.

　"The best… sings to… to me all the time…"

　"Does he now?" Michael mused, taking another step. "And where’s that man of yours now, mmm?"

　You face fell into a pout.

　"Busy… works too much…" you answered sadly. "… but if you try anything he’ll ki… ck you!"

　His amusement gave way to a sense of guilt. Michael knew he was working incredibly hard and was rarely at home these days. He had probably never realised just how much it might be affecting you until tonight, as he saw your eyes fill with tears. Michael panicked for a moment. He didn’t want to make you cry ━ he hated seeing you sad ━ so he stepped closer and placed a hand on your forearm.

　"Alright. I hear you, I hear you. I’m not trying to steal you, I promise. I’m just here to get you to bed safely. Your man would want you safe, right?"

　You looked at him suspiciously for a moment. His black hair curled around his face, with a stray lock resting against his forehead. He was looking at you with four large brown eyes that seemed strangely familiar to you. Surely, that wasn’t normal.

　"You know… you kinda look like him… like, a little bit…"

　"Oh yeah?"

　"Yeah…" you nodded, stepping closer. "… Same eyes… same… same smile…" you squinted harder. "… but my man is prettier… like way prettier… no offense…"

　Michael let out a laugh.

　"None taken. I’m sure he is, baby," he was smiling now. "Come on, pretty girl, let's get you to bed. I promise, I'm just helping, that's all."

　You let him guide you, but you kept your distance, your body tense. He led you to the hallway, his hands firm but gentle around your waist. You were mumbling things, your head rolling down to the side opposite his neck. The guy smelled of sandalwood and musk just like your boyfriend and it was enough to send you spiralling.

　"Miss him sooo much… like so, so much… you know how much?"

　"I’ve a feeling you’re about to tell me," he murmured, walking you around a corner.

　"He has those eyes… big, brown, doe eyes that just… he looks like Bambi, you know?"

　Michael flashed you a smile.

　"From Disney?"

　"Oh, yeah… but Mike’s waay cuter…" you missed a step. "Love kissing his nose too... so perfect... and his hair… so soft… he likes when I… run my fingers through it… he even purrs."

　"I do not purr," he chuckled sheepishly.

　"’course you don’t… you don’t have nice hair like him…"

　"Right, right."

　"... And his hands... things he does with his hands and his mouth, oh━"

　"Okay! Okay, wow," Michael cut you in, feeling the heat creeping up his neck. "That's enough detail, don't you think, sweetheart?"

　"You're just jealous..." you hiccuped. "He's the best... so sweet to me... makes me breakfast in bed and lea... ves notes for me when he goes to wo... rk... and dances with me in the kit... chen..." you let out a lovesick sigh. "Just love him sooo much..."

　He gently eased you down onto the edge of the bed, kneeling in front of you. Michael was looking at you with such a shy smile that he almost felt childish about it. No one had ever spoken of him as kindly and affectionately as you had.

　He knew you loved him, even though you weren’t the sort to say it every day. In fact, you hardly ever said it, but he knew. It was written in all the small things you would do like giving him small things that made you think about him for no reasons at all or you staying up all night just to have a chance to see him after a long day at work.

　"You really love that guy, huh?" he murmured, taking off your shoes delicately.

　"With my whooole heart..." you patted your chest clumsily.

　"He's very lucky to have you."

　"’m luckier…" you hiccuped once more.

　You peered down at him, your head tilted at an angle that was giving you a double chin. You could see white teeth flashing at you. Your eyes squinted, trying to focus on his face in the dim light.

　"You look... familiar..."

　"Do I?"

　"Yeah... you kinda look like my Mi... ke... if i close one eye..." you squint harder. "... or both..."

　Michael laughed at you, putting your shoes aside.

　"Must be the lighting..." he bit his lips, trying to hide his giddiness. "Handsome guy?"

　"Very..." you nodded eagerly. "... most handsomest of handsome perfectsome man..."

　"Girl, that sentence makes no sense!" he threw his head back.

　You simply hummed and sank into the mattress, your eyes already fluttering closed.

　That was the moment Michael chose to get to his feet. He stood there for a moment, watching your chest rise and fall beneath your dress, which looked far too uncomfortable to sleep in. He would try to take it off you later, though Michael doubted you would let him in your current state. He was about to walk into the bathroom when he felt a hand grip his wrist.

　He looked down at you.

　"Tell him ‘m home... safe, 'kay? He gets so... worried when I go out... Don't want him to be mad..." you mumbled sleepily.

　"Don't worry, baby, he's not mad at all," Michael reassured you, sitting on the bed next to you, the back of his fingers caressing your cheek lovingly. "He could never be mad at you."

　"I know... he likes when I've fun... but... don't want to worry him..."

　"It's okay, he's not worried anymore, sweetheart, you can sleep," he cooed, his hand never leaving your face.

　For a moment, you seemed satisfied with his words, welcoming Morpheus gladly, but the very next second a wrinkle appeared between your eyebrows and your eyes flew open, your pupils almost swallowing your irises.

　"You need to… back off... Told you I had a man... I'll tell him to... kick you..."

　Michael laughed, pulling his hand away from your warm skin. He raised both hands in a gesture of peace.

　"Alright, alright. I don't want any trouble."

　He got to his feet and continued on his way to the bathroom. Standing in front of the mirror, as he reached for some cotton pads to remove your make-up, Michael looked at himself for a moment. His eyes scanned his face carefully and lingered on his nose. You had called it perfect, and it was true that you loved kissing him in that exact spot. Yet he was often embarrassed when you did it... But now that he had heard your drunken words, Michael couldn’t help thinking that perhaps... you were right.

“Well, y'can’t, honey, 'cause the kids are down the hall.”

With an eye roll, you sighed. “Ugh, Michael—they’re older now—they’re not gonna come runnin' in like they did when they were babies. They know the distinction between their rooms and mommy and daddy's room."

“That’s not the point,” Michael laughed, still not giving in. “It’s mornin’ and they’re down the hall.”

“Well, a blowjob’s quieter than sex,” you pointed out, ignoring his disagreements.

He raised a brow. “I didn’t suggest sex either.”

“No, you didn’t—but you wanna please your lady, right? Give her what she wants?” you murmured sultrily, running your manicured nails over his chest.

“Oh, I think I’ve pleased her enough over the years,” Michael countered.

“She disagrees,” you pouted, to which Michael pulled a face of faux-shock.

“She’s also kidding,” you giggled, then nestled further into him, tucking your head into the crook of his warm neck. “Ugh, baby, please let me do somethin'. What if we just have cuddly, really slow sex so no one hears a thing?”

“Mama, what is with y' this mornin'?” Michael chuckled, intertwining your legs as he shifted so that you were now both on your sides. “Here I was, thinkin' sex drive was supposed to slow at this age.”

“I don't know, maybe it's somethin' to do with having the sexiest man in existence lying in my bed.”

“’m really not that at all, honey…” he sighed with a soft nudge, because after all these years he would still never admit how beautiful he was.

“Don’t give me your self-deprecating bullshit now. I have eyes—I know what I see,” you spoke firm. “And I also know how I feel down there, so that's physical proof of the impact your gorgeous body has on me.” You giggled now as he shied away, and you had to literally tug him back when he tried to roll onto the other side in his bashfulness.

Finally, in a bid to stop your incessant praise of his appearance and partly as a response to his growing member below the silk, he accepted your proposal.

“Alright, I'll give it to y', honey, but we need to make it quick 'cause Blanket really will be at the door askin' for us if we take any longer to come down for breakfast."

You laughed, wreathing your fingers through his hair as you pulled him into a kiss. Your leg hooked over his thigh, and he tugged the comforter up over both of your bodies to envelop you in his protection.

The sex was slow and sleepy, just as you’d craved, but Michael had to speed up when he remembered that it was now almost nine-thirty. One of the maids had knocked on your door to ask a question, but she’d heard the tell-tale sighs and moans amid the quiet though audible rhythmic creak of the bed, so had left the two of you alone. You’d see to the outside world later.

angelcrescent © 2026 ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡₊˚⊹ surprising u guys by writing for mature era :3 i have too many ideas for my au series pre-1990 so i never write for the later eras, but i was daydreaming n came up with this! ;)

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────୨ৎ────

part I, the beginning.

you pushed open the heavy, soundproofed door to the control room. the windowless room full of sprawling mixing consoles and dreams. you stood in the doorway, clipboard pressed to your chest like a shield, trying to keep your breathing steady.

junior production assistant to teddy riley.

the words still felt unreal. twenty-four years old, fresh out of college, and somehow you’d landed your first real job on the most anticipated album of the decade. dangerous. michael jackson’s album.

how the fuck is this your life?

you hadn’t spoken more than a polite “good morning” since you started about a week ago. you’ve always been soft-spoken by nature, but around him, the instinct to stay quiet grew even stronger. you simply did your job: making sure the tapes were labeled and ready, keeping the schedule tight, taking detailed notes on takes, and quietly refilling water bottles before anyone had to ask.

you had never forgotten what teddy had told you on day one: “stay out of the way, but stay useful.”

so that’s exactly what you did.

you lingered silently in the back of the control room all day, every day. watching michael and your boss work for hours on end on a single beat. it took everything in you to keep your eyes away from michael. his presence was… intense. he was larger than life, yet almost as soft-spoken as yourself.

one afternoon, during a short break, michael stepped away from the microphone and walked into the control room, wiping sweat from his brow. teddy and the rest of your colleagues stepped out of the room for a chat. you stayed, quietly organizing the tapes for the next take, turning your head down to stay focused on your task.

he stopped beside you.

“you’re always one step ahead,” he said softly.

your heart slammed against your ribs. you looked up at him slowly. his large brown eyes stared down at you, warm but intense. you felt your cheeks start to heat up.

“just doing my job, mr. jackson,” you murmured, barely above a whisper. scared to step out of line.

a small smile tugged at his lips. “michael,” he corrected gently.

“michael.” you nodded shyly. returning a small smile to him, unsure what else to say, you went back to your task.

from that day forward, he interacted with you. it was always in small ways… a quiet “thank you” when you handed him fresh water exactly when his voice started to strain, or a soft “goodnight” as he headed out the door.

the days blurred together in a haze of creativity and caffeine. you moved quietly through the studio like a shadow, until michael found a way to pull you into the light.

it happened on a long thursday evening. the atmosphere in the control room was thick with frustration. michael, teddy, bill bottrell, and bruce swedien had been going back and forth for hours on a song structure that wasn’t quite locking in. the track, still untitled, kept falling apart in the bridge.

you were refilling water bottles in the corner when michael suddenly turned in his chair, his eyes finding you.

“what do you think?” he asked. the room went quiet. your stomach dropped. you froze, clutching an empty bottle.

“i… i’m sorry?” you whispered, voice barely carrying across the room.

michael leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking at you with genuine curiosity. “the structure. the bridge into the chorus. you’ve been listening to every take. what do you feel is missing?”

your cheeks burned. you had never felt so put on the spot before. suddenly you became very aware of your age and lack of experience… and very aware you were the only woman in the room.

“i don’t—“ you started, terrified to overstep. your eyes looked towards your boss for guidance. you were just the assistant. the girl who made sure the tapes were labeled and the important people stayed on schedule. not someone whose opinion mattered to michael jackson.

“oh, teddy, you’re scaring her,” michael chuckled as he slapped teddy’s arm with the back of his hand. “tell her she can talk to me.”

teddy laughed at michael’s shove and lifted his hands, motioning for you to come closer. you placed the waters on the table and cautiously made your way over towards the men, your heart hammering in your chest.

“so?” michael asked, tilting his head to the side as he awaited your response. his eyes stared deep into yours as you quickly looked away from the way it made your heart leap in your chest.

after a long, calming breath, you spoke carefully, “the bridge feels… too expected,” you murmured. “it builds tension but then drops too safely into the chorus.” you paused for a second, moving so you were in between the chairs michael and your boss were sitting in, looking to get a better view of the board.

“if you held the note a little longer on the last line, really let it suspend, and brought the bass in underneath instead of the drums… it would feel more like a release. like a breath, you know?”

silence.

you immediately regretted speaking. too much. too bold. welp, you can kiss this job goodbye!

you looked over your right shoulder to find michael staring up at you, eyes bright with something new. he turned slowly back to the console, played the section again, then made the exact adjustment you suggested… holding the note, dropping the drums, letting the bass glide underneath.

the room shifted. the song clicked. teddy let out a low whistle.

michael leaned back, a slow, radiant smile spreading across his face. he looked at teddy and pointed in your direction. “you see that? she hears it. i want her in every session from now on.”

your breath caught. michael’s gaze returned to you, intense and focused in a way that made your knees feel weak. something shifted in that moment; he had locked in on you.

later that night, after the others had finally packed up, michael lingered. you were gathering your things quietly when he approached, hands tucked in the pockets of his slacks.

“your idea was perfect.” the sound of his voice stopped you dead in your tracks. it was like he stole all of the air from your lungs. you looked up at him, flustered as you tried putting together a sentence, anything.

“thank you…michael.”

he smiled at the sound of his name on your lips. you had expected him to slip out of the room quietly behind you, but instead he leaned up against the wall, studying you further.

you felt your breath hitch, unsure of what to do. you turned your attention to your things, trying your best to avoid direct eye contact with him. instead you focused on grabbing your scattered papers from the table in front of you.

“long day,” he said quietly, almost awkwardly, eyes still fixed on your every move. you nodded in agreement, avoiding his gaze. “was it a long day for you too?” he asked casually, pushing for an actual answer from you.

“i guess,” you mumbled as you looked up to view the clock hanging above the exit. 12:18 am. michael took notice of your slight movement and followed your eyes to view the time himself.

“what time did you get here?” he asked, his voice soft and curious. you had to stop yourself from looking at him as if he had three heads. why on earth would michael jackson care to hold such a mundane conversation with someone like you?

you turned your head in his direction, finally meeting his gaze. he looked so… normal.

“um, around 7, i think?”

“7 a.m.?”

“yeah,” you replied as you finished stuffing your notepads and folders into your bag, “guess it has been a long day.”

“is it tiring?” he inquired, refusing to let the conversation die. you shifted on your feet slightly, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you looked back up at him.

“yeah,” you answered honestly, “but i don’t mind. this is everything i’ve ever dreamed of.”

michael studied your face, the way your eyes started to twinkle as you spoke to him about your dreams. he smiled at you, a soft and kind smile.

“what made you want to work in the studio like this?” he asked, real curiosity painted across his face.

“i’ve always been drawn to the magic that happens behind the scenes,” you answered truthfully, “the way one small decision on the board dictates the entire sound… i don’t know.”

michael smiled at you as you spoke, and the sight of him in front of you had your heart beating so loud you were scared he was going to be able to hear it. he stared at you, barely blinking as he took in everything about you. you felt… vulnerable? like he was figuring out every part of you right there in that moment.

“i know it’s late,” michael started, “but if you’re not too tired, i could show you a few things.”

every single part of you that was exhausted before was awoken like it had been hit with a bolt of lightning… and you knew it was all over your face. you couldn’t contain your smile as you very quickly dropped your bag down on the couch next to you.

“not too tired.” you grinned; you felt like you had hit the lottery. and michael couldn’t help but chuckle at your enthusiasm as you both made your way back to the console.

the hours slipped away. as you sat in your boss’ chair next to michael, the studio felt smaller. like the rest of the world had melted away. he made you feel comfortable instantly, speaking in a soft and warm tone that made you relax more and more with each passing second. he took his time explaining different techniques he had learned throughout the years, making sure you fully understood the process before he moved on to the next thing.

somewhere along the way michael started to sprinkle in some questions about you. he asked you things like: what kind of music moved you when you were a girl? what do you hope to create one day? how did it feel to be fresh out of college and thrown into this world?

you opened up bit by bit, your soft voice gaining a little more confidence as he listened so intently. he made it so easy, which shocked you. it amazed you how tentative he was. it seemed like he really cared about what you were saying.

in return, he began sharing pieces of himself, small at first, then deeper. he spoke about his bad tour, which had just wrapped up within the last year. what it’s like being away from home for months, sometimes years on end. in his rawest confession, he told you about the quiet loneliness that comes with being who he is.

and you were a goner.

you could feel yourself getting lost in his eyes as he spoke. the way he spoke so openly and honestly took you by complete surprise. yet, it felt natural. like you had known him forever.

“i’m sorry you feel so lonely,” the words left your mouth before you could stop them. michael stared at you, his big eyes growing even softer at your words.

“it’s okay,” he replied, looking to switch the conversation off of himself. “what about you?” he asked as he turned away from your gaze, almost shy-like.

“what about me?”

“are you lonely? or do you have someone?” he asked, voice softer than ever before. you felt your heart skip a beat at his question.

“no and no,” you answered, “not lonely. also not seeing anyone.”

michael scanned your face the entire time you spoke; you had never felt so listened to before. he made you feel like you were the only person in the world with the way he looked at you. you felt like you could stay there forever and never run out of things to talk about. it was almost four in the morning when michael finally glanced at the clock.

“you must be exhausted,” he said, voice husky from hours of talking. he stood and offered his hand to help you up. when your fingers slid into his, he didn’t let go right away, allowing his touch to linger. his hand was warm, and so much larger than yours.

“do you have a car here?” he asked softly, slowly dropping his hand from yours.

“no, no, my car is a piece of junk that’s always in the shop,” you laughed. “i’m just going to take a cab.”

“absolutely not,” michael protested, grabbing his jacket from the couch, “i’ll take you home.”

“it’s okay, really—“

“i’m not taking no for an answer,” michael replied, grabbing your bag to carry it for you without even asking, like he had been doing it forever. “let’s go.”

the drive was mostly quiet. michael was driving, something he told you was rare that he does for himself, and you were next to him, spewing out directions as the city lights blurred past the windows. when he pulled up outside your modest apartment building, the air felt thicker with tension.

michael turned to you, his gaze intense in the dim light. “thank you for tonight,” he whispered. “for being you.” before you could respond, he reached over and gently cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin with a tenderness that made your breath catch. you felt as if you were floating out of your body. “you’re different,” he finished, as he searched your face for any sign of discomfort. he moved towards you slowly, like he was giving you every chance to pull away, and pressed his lips gently against yours.

the kiss was soft at first, slow and respectful, as he gauged your comfort level. when you didn’t pull away, he deepened the kiss. his hand slid into your hair as he pulled you closer to him. his tongue gently grazed your bottom lip, asking for access, which you granted immediately. he kissed you with such passion it made your stomach drop, similar to the feeling of being on a rollercoaster. it was exhilarating. when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.

“i’ve wanted to do that for days,” he admitted, voice low. “you have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

you didn’t know what to say back to him. so instead, you sat there in the quiet dark. your heart pounding, your mind reacting. the first fragile boundary between the two of you finally crossed.

────୨ৎ────

part ii, the honeymoon stage.

the days that followed the kiss felt like a dream you were terrified of waking up from.

you did your absolute best to stay professional in the studio, but it was impossible to hide how giddy you felt whenever michael was near. every time he looked at you, your stomach fluttered and your cheeks warmed. a small, secret smile would tug at your lips when he passed you a note with a quick lyric scribble and a heart at the bottom. you found yourself constantly replaying the feeling of his lips, and the feeling of his tongue swirling around yours. you were completely drunk on him.

michael, meanwhile, was becoming completely obsessed.

he noticed everything. the way you tucked your hair behind your ear when you were concentrating. how you preferred your coffee with a touch of cinnamon on busy mornings. how you always smelled faintly of vanilla and the rose lotion you loved. the nervous little habit of biting your lower lip when you were trying not to speak out of turn. he catalogued it all.

that first week following the kiss, he started carving out time for the two of you outside the studio.

it began small. one evening after a long session, he took you to a private overlook in the hills before taking you home. the city sparkled below while he played unreleased tracks for you on a portable cassette player, his arm eventually slipping around your shoulders. the two of you sat there for hours, as he told you more and more about his life, saying “i’ve never felt safe enough to tell anyone these things before.”

another night, he brought you to neverland. it was 2 a.m., and there the two of you were, riding the carousel like children. michael’s laughter, bright and unguarded, mixed with the cheerful mechanical music as you spun under the twinkling lights.

“you deserve to have fun too,” he told you softly, watching you spin on the painted horse with pure adoration in his eyes. “not just work.”

that night was special. it was the first time he made love to you. you had never felt so cherished and completely cared for in your entire life. you had never been so intimate with someone before. yes, you’ve had sex, but you’ve never had someone be so gentle with you.

he took his time with everything. he took his time undressing you, his fingertips tracing every inch of newly revealed skin like he was memorizing every part of you. his mouth mapped your body while he placed warm, wet kisses trailing from your neck to your breasts, sucking gently on your nipples until they ached, then lower, across your stomach, until his breath ghosted over your core.

the first slow stroke of his tongue drew a broken, needy moan from deep in your throat. he was patient, devastatingly attentive, learning exactly how you liked to be licked and sucked. the wet sounds of his mouth working you open filled the quiet room, mingling with your soft gasps and whimpers. he hummed in pleasure against you, the vibration sending sparks up your spine.

“that’s it, my sweet girl,” he praised, voice muffled. “let me hear you. you taste so good… so perfect for me.”

his tongue fucked you with slow, deliberate devotion until your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders and your fingers were desperately tangled in his soft curls. the orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. it was completely consuming, overwhelming, leaving you shaking and gasping as waves of pleasure crashed over you again and again. michael moaned against you, lapping up every drop of your release like he was starving for it, savoring you until your body had nothing left to give.

when he finally rose, the weight of his body settling over yours felt like coming home. skin against heated skin. his scent, cologne mixed with sweat, surrounded you. he positioned his thick cock at your entrance and pushed in slowly, inch by inch, watching your face the entire time.

the stretch was intense, a deep, burning fullness that made you gasp as you wrapped your legs around his waist. he buried himself to the hilt and stilled, forehead pressed to yours, sharing the same ragged breath.

“are you okay?” he whispered, voice strained with the effort of holding back. his warm, slightly damp skin pressed against yours everywhere. his curls falling onto your face.

you nodded, nails digging into his back as you tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being so completely filled by him.

“please… move.”

he made love to you like he was trying to fuse your souls together. deep, rolling thrusts that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. the room filled with the slick, intimate sounds of skin against skin, your soft, desperate moans, and his low, consistent praises. every thrust felt like it reached deeper than your body, like he was searching for parts of you no one else had ever touched.

“you feel incredible,” he groaned, voice raw and trembling. “so warm and tight around me… like you were made to fit me perfectly. i’ve never felt anything like this.” one of his hands stayed linked with yours above your head, fingers tightly interlaced, while the other worshipped your body. his thumb brushed against your sensitive nipple, trailing his palm down your side, fingers finding your clit to circle in perfect rhythm with his thrusts. every movement bound you tighter to him. you felt engulfed in him. lost in the heat of his skin, the taste of his kisses, the relentless pleasure building inside you until there was nothing left but him.

he brought you over the edge again like that, kissing you through your orgasm as you clenched and fluttered wildly around him, trembling and gasping into his mouth. the intensity left you sobbing his name, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes as you pulled him closer. only then did he let himself follow, shuddering with a low, broken groan as he pulled out at the last second and pumped himself rapidly, painting your stomach with thick, hot ropes of his cum.

afterward, he collapsed beside you and pulled you into his arms, holding you like you were the most precious thing in existence. his fingers traced lazy, soothing patterns on your back while he pressed soft, lingering kisses to your forehead, your eyelids, the tip of your nose, your lips. you could feel the emptiness from him between your legs, the stickiness of his release on your skin, the rapid beat of his heart against your cheek.

“i’m falling so hard for you,” he whispered against your skin, voice raw with emotion. “you make me feel… insane.”

you curled tighter into his chest, surrounded by his warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. in that moment, you felt utterly tied to him; body, heart, and soul. it was everything, and you had fallen completely.

you weren’t the first one to say it. you were lying with him on the large couch in his private sitting room at neverland, a week after the passionate night the two of you shared. the lights were low, with a crackling fire directly below the television playing his favorite cartoon. he was holding you in his arms, your face flush against his chest, listening to his heartbeat when he shifted slightly.

“i love you,” he said, voice low and unwavering. “i know this is fast… maybe too fast, but i’ve never said those words and meant it this much before.”

it was fast. dangerously fast. but hearing those words from him, feeling chosen by him, made your heart swell so much it practically hurt. you lifted your head to meet his eyes. he was looking at you like you hung the moon and stars.

“it feels like everyone always wants something from me,” he continued softly, lacing his fingers with yours. his grip was warm, almost a little too tight. “but you… you just give. you make me feel safe. i need you. i’ve never needed anyone the way i need you.”

the words made you melt. it was a dizzying rush of love mixed with the quiet thrill of being so desperately wanted by him, of all people. you were completely overwhelmed with emotion.

“i love you too,” you responded quickly, grabbing his face with both hands to pull him in for a steamy, passionate kiss.

the gifts followed immediately after. each one more thoughtful than the last, each one showing how deeply he paid attention.

first, a small velvet box waited on your usual table in the studio. inside was a delicate gold necklace with a tiny music note pendant. the note read: for the girl who hears the music in everything. wear this and think of me.

a few days later, a beautiful designer purse appeared at your apartment. soft leather in a warm gold-brown tone that matched his favorite dress of yours perfectly. “for carrying all those notes you take for me, i love you,” the card said.

then came the earrings. exquisite gold hoops with small diamonds that caught the studio lights. he’d noticed you admired a similar pair in a magazine left lying around. when you put them on with trembling fingers and looked up at him shyly, his smile was radiant.

“they suit you perfectly,” he murmured, reaching out to gently brush your hair back so he could see them better. his fingers lingered on your skin.

“everything looks better on you, baby.” his new name for you.

you had never felt attention like this ever, and it was coming from him. the way he made time for you, the way he noticed every tiny detail, treating you like you were the most precious thing in his world.

as the weeks went on, you found yourself canceling plans with friends without hesitation. not because he ever asked you to, but because you wanted to. your mind was consumed by him. you began dressing with him in mind every morning. you started waking up earlier so you could make sure you looked perfect for him. always making sure to wear the gold necklace and earrings he’d given you, because you loved the way he noticed. he noticed every single time.

michael went out of his way to ask you for your opinions in the studio. constantly turning around in his chair to engage with you. he never made you feel small or less than. your dreams of producing and writing felt brighter than ever, but they were slowly becoming tangled with the dream of him.

he was pulling you deeper into his world, and you went willingly, heart racing, completely enchanted.

before you knew it, you were spending every minute of every day with him. mornings and evenings in the studio were dedicated to him: taking his notes with extra care, keeping his tea at the perfect temperature, dimming the lights the moment his eyes started to squint. nights were spent in his bed, filled to the brim with his cock while he kissed your face and whispered how perfect you were; his muse, his everything.

so when he told you he had to leave town for a few days for a charity event, your heart shattered. it wasn’t normal. you knew it wasn’t normal to be so entangled with someone that the idea of being apart for 48 hours felt impossible. you had begged him to stay, taking his packed bag from his hands and forcing him down onto his bed. straddling his lap firmly while you licked his neck, placing delicate kisses below his ear, whispering “stay.”

“i’m sorry, baby,” he practically moaned, placing his hands gently on your waist while you continued your assault on his neck. “i promise i’ll make it up to you.”

“how are you going to do that?” you whispered, sucking his earlobe into your mouth gently.

“you’ll just have to wait and see, baby,” michael replied, lifting you off his lap and placing you down onto the bed next to him. he stood slowly, like he was just as desperate to stay there and worship your needy body. “i’ll be back before you know it. help yourself to anything in the house; my card is on the table. you can use it for anything,” he said sincerely, as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. “i love you so much,” was the last thing he said before he slipped out the door and out of your life for the next two days.

────୨ৎ────

part III, the switch.

the night before michael was due back, you went home to your apartment for the first time in weeks. you hadn’t realized how long it had been until you noticed your answering machine flashing with dozens of missed calls from your friends and family. when was the last time you were with anyone other than michael?

sleeping in your own bed felt… wrong. it didn’t feel like your bed anymore. the whole apartment felt like it was something out of a past life. it all happened so fast that you didn’t even realize what was happening. you had become so consumed by him that you had a hard time figuring out where he ended and where you began.

the night was sleepless. you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing him. it was like you couldn’t even breathe without him. he was the only thought on your mind, fully pushing out your earlier realizations that you didn’t even recognize your own life anymore.

the next morning, you took extra time getting ready, ensuring that you looked exactly how he liked. you even slipped on a shorter skirt than usual, one you typically save for after work hours, just to surprise him once he showed up to the studio.

everything was perfect. except for your piece of shit car that wouldn’t start no matter how many times you turned the key.

you groaned, flopping your forehead onto the steering wheel in frustration. as you were about to go back inside to grab the phone to call a cab, your neighbor, mr. harlan, called out.

“car trouble again?” he asked as he was standing in the doorway with a briefcase in his hands.

“as always!” you replied, still turning to go back inside.

“you going to work? i can drop you off”

mr. harlan had given you rides to work before, when you were just an intern, before you met michael. he was a nice man, one who never gave the creeps. he was about 45, with salt and pepper hair and a kind smile. he reminded you of your father.

“i can call a cab; it’s okay.”

“i’m going right down the road from there, it’s no trouble, sweetheart.” you looked down at the watch michael had gotten for you, realizing that if you weren’t at the studio in thirty minutes, teddy would have your head on a stick.

“are you sure?” you asked politely. mr. harlan just motioned for you to get in the car, and you did.

the ride was short and pleasant, making small talk with mr. harlan as he asked you about your job, making a quick comment that “no one’s seen you around for a while.”

before you knew it, you were at work, with five minutes to spare. you turned to him with a genuine smile, “thank you so much mr. harlan, really.” you leaned over and gave him a quick appreciative hug. he patted your back gently. you smiled brightly as you pulled away, “you’re a lifesaver.”

after a quick touch-up in the bathroom, you made your way to the control room. wanting to make sure you set everything up perfectly for michael’s arrival later in the day. as you walked in, you felt your heart skip a beat. michael was already there, sitting at the mixing board with a notebook and pen in his hand.

“oh my god, you scared me!” you exclaimed, feeling your heart rate increase at the sight of him.

he didn’t turn around. he didn’t move a muscle.

you dropped your clipboard and bag on the couch as you made your way over to him. “what are you doing here?” you asked excitedly. “i thought you were getting in later?”

nothing.

your heart rate spiked again, not from excitement, but from rising dread. your stomach twisted with confusion.

“is everything okay?” you asked, grabbing his shoulder gently. he didn’t even look at you. just continued scribbling in his notepad like you didn’t exist.

you were interrupted by teddy, bruce and bill’s arrival to the room. which signaled it was time for you to be the junior assistant producer, not the concerned girlfriend.

your stomach twisted with nerves all day long. every thought was consumed by the terrifying possibility that the love he had poured into you so completely could be taken away in an instant.

his silence was tearing you apart. what happened? did something happen on his trip? did you do something?

you tried your best to carry on with your routine as normal, but this time he ignored every gesture. when you gave him more water, he didn’t even turn his head to look at you; he just continued his conversation with your boss. when you lowered the lights for him later in the session, he didn’t mouth ‘thank you’ to you like he normally did. he was stone cold. it was like you weren’t even there. it was driving you crazy.

it was eating you alive. every ignored glance, every silent dismissal, carved a deeper hole inside your chest.

the day dragged for what felt like an eternity, your chest aching with confusion, desperate to get anything out of michael. once the others stepped out for their smoke break, leaving you and michael alone, you approached him. your voice barely above a whisper.

“michael… what’s wrong? did something happen? you’re scaring me.”

he finally turned his head, eyes dark and cold. he had a look you had never seen on him before. it made your chest tighten.

“who was that?” he asked calmly, voice low and controlled. you looked at him with pure confusion.

“mr. harlan?” you asked, keeping your voice low in case anyone was lingering in the hallway. “he’s my neighbor. my car wouldn’t start this morning, so he gave me a ride… is that what this is about?”

michael searched your face for what had to be the thousandth time since he met you. only this time, he wasn’t studying your face to memorize it. he was hunting for a sign of dishonesty. “a ride,” he repeated, keeping his glare intense.

“yes, michael. a ride.”

“then tell him to give you one back home,” he stated coldly as he stood, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. he brushed past you without another word.

the next week was agonizing.

every day he came to the studio late, and every day he left early, without looking in your direction once. he wore his aviators the entire time, like he was deliberately blocking you from seeing his eyes.

you spent every day watching him ignore you at work, then spent every night calling his bedroom phone dozens of times, leaving messages of desperation that always went unanswered. each silent hour chipped away at your sanity. you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t sleep. you felt like a shadow of yourself…. like you didn’t exist for yourself anymore. instead, you were an extension of him, and you couldn’t function without him.

you started to make mistakes at work. on thursday, day 4 of silence, you handed teddy a mislabeled tape. he scolded you right then and there, in front of your colleagues, and in front of michael. the old you would’ve been devastated to make such a stupid mistake at a job that meant the world to you… but the new you was only devastated that michael sat there, expressionless behind his aviators, watching you fight back tears at the embarrassment.

he offered you zero comfort as he left early again that day.

by friday, you were physically and mentally exhausted. you felt hollow. starved. like someone had reached inside your chest and ripped out the warmth he had so carefully filled you with. the same man who told you he loved you more than he’d ever loved anyone was now making you feel completely discarded. unimportant. unworthy. the contrast was physically painful. every small movement he made sent your heart lurching with desperate hope, only for it to crash violently when he looked straight through you.

the guilt was relentless. michael’s silence made it crystal clear: this was your fault. you had done this. the realization made you nauseous. all common sense vanished. you knew deep down you hadn’t done anything wrong, yet the guilt ate you alive.

you couldn’t take it anymore. you were unraveling at a terrifying rate.

teddy and the others had stepped out to grab dinner, and to your surprise michael stayed behind. leaving the two of you alone for the first time in days. the studio was silent except for the low hum of the equipment. michael stayed sat at the mixing board, staring at a track list. you stood at the back of the room for a long moment, heart hammering, before you finally spoke.

“michael…” your voice came out small and shaky. “please. i can’t stand this anymore.”

he didn’t turn around.

you moved closer until you were standing right beside him. tears were threatening to spill from your eyes. “i’m so sorry. i never meant to hurt you. there’s no one else. only you. i’ll do anything to make this right. i love you.” you confessed through a shaky breath.

he removed his aviators slowly, setting them on the console with deliberate care, before finally turning to look at you. his eyes were dark, filled with jealousy and hurt. he stood from his chair, towering over you in the dim studio light.

you were shaking, guilt and desperation clawing at your throat. “tell me what to do,” you whispered brokenly. “i’ll do anything. please.”

michael stared at you for a long and heavy moment. jealousy and love twisted together in his expression. then he walked past you without a word. for one terrifying second, you thought he was going to leave. instead, he locked the studio door with a quiet click that echoed throughout the tension filled room.

“get on your knees,” he ordered, voice low and commanding.

“what?” you choked out, baffled by his tone and words.

he stepped closer, pupils blown wide, the thick outline of his cock already straining against his jeans. he looked at you like he never had before… like he was starving and possessive.

“prove it to me,” he said, voice low and rough. “prove that you’re mine.”

in that moment, something shifted in him. the power he had over you was intoxicating, and he knew it.

your legs gave out before your mind could catch up. you dropped in front of him, knees hitting the carpet, heart hammering so hard you felt dizzy. you looked up at him as he unzipped his jeans, pulled out his thick, heavy cock, and fisted it slowly right in front of your face.

“open,” he ordered.

you obeyed instantly, lips parting. he grabbed the back of your head and pushed forward, sliding his cock into your mouth in one quick thrust.

“fuck… that’s it,” he groaned, voice dripping with lust. “take it like a good girl.”

he fucked your mouth with deep strokes, holding your head in place while you drooled and gagged around him.

“look at me,” he growled, fingers tightening in your hair. “look at me while i own this pretty mouth.”

you looked up at him through your lashes, your eyes lightly lined with tears as you took him as deep as you could. you felt your panties pool with your arousal at his words. you felt completely dominated by him… and you seemed to love it by the way you were throbbing underneath your skirt.

his thrusts were relentless, caring only about his pleasure for the first time. your throat tightened around his length as you struggled to breathe through your nose. you were too desperate for him to want you again to even consider tapping out.

sensing you needed a break, he pulled out suddenly, leaving you gasping for air as he stood above you. his cock was glistening with your spit as he stroked himself roughly, staring down at you with dark, possessive eyes.

“you okay?” he practically moaned out; the sight was fucking obscene. the way he towered above you, tugging at his length. he looked so powerful. he had complete control over you, and he loved it.

you were breathing hard, chest rapidly falling up and down, your heart going a million miles a minute. you couldn’t help but smile as you nodded at him, he’s still making sure i’m okay. that was the loudest thought in your head.

he shook his head slightly, acknowledging your consent, then slapped his cock repeatedly against your lips. “beg for it,” he demanded, “beg me to fuck your throat some more.”

“please, michael… please use me. i’ll be a good girl i promise.”

a dark, satisfied sound left his throat as he slid his cock back into your mouth, fucking it harder.

“good girl,” he rasped. “look so pretty gagging on my cock, baby.” he moaned his pet name for you so easily that it made your stomach twist in desire. his praise was the most important thing in the world to you. hearing him call you good, pretty, baby being enough to get you clenching around nothing as he used you.

“i’m gonna come down your throat,” he growled, staring down at you with possessive eyes. “and you’re going to swallow every drop like a good girl. do you understand?”

you whimpered around his cock, nodding desperately as best you could. with a low, guttural groan, michael buried himself deep and came hard. thick, hot spurts of his release flooded your mouth and slid down your throat as he held your head in place.

“swallow it all. that’s it… good fucking girl,” he moaned.

you obeyed, throat working around him as you swallowed every drop. the act felt degrading and intimate all at once. something he had never made you do before.

when he finally pulled out, you were gasping, coughing… and so wet. your lips were swollen and slick with a mixture of your spit and bits of his cum. you felt owned and wanted all at once.

michael dropped to his knees in front of you almost immediately. his hands were gentle as they cupped your face, his eyes softening.

“come here, baby,” he whispered before pulling you in for a deep, claiming kiss. his tongue brushed against yours, tasting what he had done to you. he eventually pulled away, pressing a quick kiss to your nose before resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry,” you whispered, looking up at him with tear-stained and desperate eyes.

“i know,” he responded, brushing his thumb across your swollen lips. “i’m terrified of losing you,” he confessed softly, sincerity laced in his words. “i love you so much.”

you felt all of your anxiety wash away in that exact moment. you hadn’t even noticed how he didn’t apologize for ignoring you all week long… all you felt was pure relief. like you were an addict finally getting a fix.

“i love you so much, michael.” you replied, grabbing his face as his forehead remained against yours. “you’ll never lose me.”

for the first time, his love felt conditional… and you had just proven you would do anything to keep it.

────୨ৎ────

part IV, the descent.

the days after that night in that studio were so euphoric. you were on a complete high, reeling from the way he degraded you in such a loving way. beyond relieved that he had finally put you out of the misery of missing him. things felt so good again.

he returned to his loving and attentive ways immediately, reminding you exactly why you had fallen in love with him. he thanked you for every small thing you did for him in the studio, and resumed asking you for your opinion on tracks. once he even pulled you into his lap when people left the room, whispering how proud he was of you. repeatedly saying, “no one understands me like you do.”

the sex returned instantly too, but now it carried a new edge. he was still tender for the most part, taking his time worshipping you and pressing his lips to the pulse point on your neck like he wanted to taste your heartbeat. but occasionally he would hold your throat while he stretched you wide with his cock as deep as he could go, admiring the way he could see the outline of himself in your stomach. sometimes making you repeat “i’m only yours” like a prayer before he lets you finish.

you learned very quickly that if you ever upset him, he would simply draw back. sometimes slowly… sometimes all at once. and you couldn’t stand the thought of losing his warmth. losing his love.

the more love he gave you, the more intoxicated you became. you strived to be perfect for him; wearing his favorite outfits, the lipstick he complimented most. it felt right. it felt natural to cater to him. you loved how it made you feel when he was pleased with you. you would go to the ends of the earth to keep him smiling at you.

the gifts kept coming: new louboutins, surprise weekend getaways, beautiful lingerie…  one evening, tangled together in bed, hot and sweaty after your respective orgasms, he reached into the bedside table and pulled out a leather journal.

“i’ve been wanting to give you this,” he whispered, handing you the small notebook. “you’re the only person i’ve ever given everything to,” he said. moving his hands to brush your hair behind your ear so he could watch your face as you opened it.

inside, michael had written several pages of his own thoughts, lyrics, and little love notes with silly drawings scribbled next to them.

you looked up at him with loving eyes. he looked so handsome. the warm firelight danced across his face so delicately. his curls, sweaty and loose, fell into his face as he looked back at you.

“flip to the end, baby.”

you flipped through the blank pages of the journal to find a note at the end: “because your mind is as beautiful as you are. write everything here. i want to know every part of you. love, michael.”

“i don’t know how i ever worked before i met you,” he said, voice genuine. “you’re my muse. maybe i can be yours… write all of your ideas here. for songs, for your future, i’ll help you get everything you’ve ever wanted.”

your mind was dizzy with love. you had never imagined love could feel this strong, this consuming, this holy.

you rode him like you were trying to climb inside his soul. you pushed him down onto the bed and straddled his hips, sinking onto his thick cock in one slow, greedy motion. a broken moan left your lips as he stretched you open. michael’s hands gripped your waist tightly, but he let you set the pace, watching your face twist in pleasure as you adjusted to his size.

you rolled your hips desperately, taking him deeper with every movement. the wet sound of your bodies meeting filled the room, along with your soft, needy whimpers for him.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned, eyes dark as you began to bounce on his cock. “look at you. so fucking obsessed with me.”

you leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest, riding him harder. “i love you,” you gasped. “i love you so much.”

his grip tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he pulled you deeper. “then show me,” he rasped. “show me who this pussy belongs to.”

his words sent a fresh wave of heat through you. you rode him faster, grinding down on him with every stroke, chasing the feeling only he could give you.

“god, you feel so good,” he moaned, eyes dark as he thrusted up to meet your rhythm. “this pussy was made to be fucked by me. made to be filled by me.”

you came hard around his cock, the feeling of him pulling you deeper combined with the quiet shame of being so openly objectified sending you over the edge. as you cried out his name, clenching around him, he flipped you over without warning.

he pinned your wrists above your head and fucked you through your orgasm with deep, punishing thrusts.

“you’re mine,” he growled, voice low and possessive. “no one else gets you. no one else gets to touch you. no one else gets this.” he slammed into you harder. “say it.”

“i’m yours,” you sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure slipping down your cheeks. your overstimulated pussy being fucked mercilessly by him, “only yours, michael.”

“you belong to me,” he moaned as he came inside of you for the first time. “take it. take all of me.” he buried himself to the hilt, pushing himself up against the deepest part of you. you felt his cum flood deep into you as he throbbed inside of your clenching hole. he stayed pressed up against you for what felt like forever, breathing hard against your neck while he slowly and gently fucked his hot seed deeper inside of you.

you had never been finished in before. the feeling was overwhelming. physically and emotionally. you could feel each strong spurt marking you from the inside. filling you so completely that the excess started to leak out around where you were stretched tight around him.

emotionally, you felt claimed. and it terrified you how much you wanted it. how badly you needed to be his.

tears slipped down your cheeks as you clung to him, trembling. he lifted his head from your neck and kissed them away as he softened inside of you, murmuring how much he adored you. he pulled out gently and gathered you into his arms, holding you impossibly tight. “my perfect girl,” he murmured, stroking your hair. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

from that point on, he stopped pulling out and always finished inside of you.

the months following blurred into something you no longer recognized as your own life. michael had meticulously wrapped himself into the very fabric of your being. he was at the forefront of everything.

you stopped having car issues because michael bought you your dream car, and then gently suggested you just use one of his drivers instead. “it’s safer,” he said one night while kissing along your collarbone, “i can’t focus if i’m worried about you, baby. let me take care of you the way you take care of me.”

he started paying your rent without asking, then soothed your hesitation with soft kisses and quiet logic. “i feel guilty that you’re paying for a place you’re barely at anymore. you’ll always have a home with me.”

every time your family or friends called, he was right there. rubbing your back gently as you spoke, whispering sweet nothings in your other ear.

his anger was never loud. he never raised his voice at you. he was never violent. he didn’t need to be.

he had trained you well.

teddy had a guest in the studio one night, a member of the new band blackstreet, who teddy swore was going to be the next big thing. you must’ve spoken to the man for too long, or smiled at him too warmly, because you felt michael’s eyes burn into you immediately.

you instantly felt guilt twisting in your stomach… you knew that look. you had learned to read every subtle shift in his mood like your life depended on it. and right now, it felt like it did.

michael didn’t give you the silent treatment like before; this time he simply removed the warmth. he stopped calling you “baby” or “sweet girl”, and when you reached for his hand in the car, he let you hold it but offered no squeeze in return. at night, he still held you close, his body a solid presence against yours, but the tender kisses behind your ear and along your arms were gone. the absence of those small affections carved deeper into you than any argument ever could.

you tried desperately to bridge the gap. one evening, curled against his chest in bed, you whispered, “i love you.” he responded with the same words, voice soft, but he didn’t look at you. his gaze stayed fixed on the ceiling, and the conditional nature of his love had never felt more real, or more terrifying.

the fear that he might slip away completely ate away at you. you couldn’t bear another day of his emotional distance. so that night, after he left for a late meeting, you slipped into his favorite lingerie… a delicate black lace set he had once said made you look like his own personal angel.

your hands trembled as you fastened the garters. you had bought a shiny pair of metal cuffs earlier that day… cuffs you hoped would prove how far you were willing to go. when you heard the front door open, your heart slammed against your chest. you stood in the middle of the bedroom, the cuffs dangling from your fingers, the dim lamplight casting soft shadows across your barely-covered body.

michael stepped into the room and stopped short, eyes widening slightly at the sight of you.

“what are you doing?” he asked, voice low, a mix of surprise and something darker flickering across his face.

you stepped closer, holding the handcuffs out to him like an offering. your voice came out breathy, laced with desperation and a dangerous kind of devotion.

“i’m offering you everything,” you whispered, eyes locked on his. “all of me. i’m yours to use however you want.”

for a moment, he just stared at you, the air between you thick with tension. then something in his expression shifted; hunger overtaking the lingering coldness. he grabbed the handcuffs from your hand, the metal clicking softly as he circled behind you. he pulled your arms back firmly and locked the cuffs around your wrists, the cool bite of the metal sending shivers down your spine, before pulling you back into him. you could feel how hard he was already… your desperation making all the blood rush to his cock.

his hand slid down your body possessively, reaching between your legs. his fingers brushed over your soaked lace panties, pressing against your aching pussy.

“look at how wet you get when you submit to me,” he murmured, voice rough and low against your ear. he pushed the lace aside and sank two fingers inside you without warning, curling them deep. you gasped, knees nearly buckling at the sudden fullness.

“so fucking eager,” he continued, pumping his fingers slowly, deliberately. “so pathetic and perfect for me.”

he withdrew his fingers quickly, leaving you throbbing and empty, and guided you toward the large mirror. he bent you over the edge of the bed, your cuffed hands resting against your lower back. you watched in the reflection as he freed his thick cock, stroking it only once before lining himself up.

“eyes on the mirror,” he ordered, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “i want you to watch exactly what i do to you… and what you let me do.”

he thrust into you in one brutal stroke, the sudden stretch intense and consuming. his pace was instantly rough, giving you no time to adjust as he yanked back on the cuffs restraining your arms behind your back, forcing your body to arch for him.

“that’s it,” he groaned, voice low and filthy. “look at how this pussy swallows my cock. so desperate to be fucked by me.”

the combination of the restraints, his degrading words, and the relentless pleasure left you trembling. tears of overwhelming sensation slipping down your cheeks as you stared at your reflection; flushed, bound, completely at his mercy. the fucked-up thing was how much wetter it made you. he could feel it, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down your thighs.

“you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you harder, using the cuffs to pull you back onto him with every thrust. “you love it when i use you, love knowing i own every inch of you.”

“yes- yes, i love it,” you sobbed, voice breaking.

“good girl,” he praised, “who do you belong to, baby?” he asked as he started rolling his hips, swirling the tip of his cock impossibly deep inside of you. “tell me.”

the filth spewing from his lips mixed with the overwhelming pleasure sent you spiraling. you screamed out “you, you, you” as your orgasm crashed over you violently. your pussy clenching around him as you cried out for him, tears flowing freely now.

michael didn’t slow down. he fucked you through it, chasing his own release. he followed right behind with a deep, guttural groan, burying himself as deep as he could possibly go before shooting his load inside of you.

he reached down between your thighs, where the two of you were still connected, and carefully scooped up the cum that was dripping out of you and down his cock on his fingers before grabbing your hair with his other hand to force you to look back into the mirror.

he moved his cum soaked fingers in front of your face, and without him needing to say a word, you opened your mouth, swirling your tongue around his fingers, hallowing your cheeks to suck him clean.

he moaned deeply at the sight of your reflection in the mirror in front of him, pushing his fingers deeper in your mouth as you also watched yourself taste him.

he gently pulled out, unlocked the handcuffs, then turned you around and pulled you into his arms. the sudden gentleness after the roughness made you latch onto him harder. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead, your temples, your swollen lips.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse but warm again. “i needed that. you always know what i need.”

after that night, you consciously stopped making eye contact with other men, especially when michael was around. you had noticed how much more he praised you when your attention belonged only to him.

he would always be subtle, pulling you in for a hug from behind and whispering, “you’ve been so good to me lately.” before showering the back of your neck in kisses.

the two of you spent countless sleepless nights together curled up on the couch flipping through the journal he gave you. he would pull you into his lap, gently rubbing your back as he flipped through your scribbles of lyrics and arrangement ideas.

subconsciously, you were writing what you thought he would like. you memorized the way he worked in the studio. you convinced yourself it was still passion for the work. but he had become your work. your mentor. your provider. and you were so thankful he was all of those things wrapped into one.

“these are beautiful,” he would whisper, pointing to different lyrics throughout the journal. “i love the way you think, baby,” he’d say, kissing your temple. and all you could think about was him.

the long days in the studio dwindled as the album neared completion. the energy was bittersweet. a mix of pride and quiet melancholy as everyone sensed the end of a chapter approaching.

one afternoon, teddy pulled you aside near the back of the control room while michael was momentarily out of earshot.

“you’ve been incredible, kid. michael’s been singing your praises nonstop. to me, to the label, everyone. he really believes in you. i’ve got some more hands-on work coming up with blackstreet after this wraps. real producing credits. you earned this. you should thank him; he’s the reason doors are opening for you like this.”

you smiled, a small flicker of genuine professional excitement warming your chest for the first time in months. “teddy, wow, i… thank you. that means everything.”

that night, curled up against his chest on the couch, you told him what teddy had said. your voice was gentle, full of gratitude.

“he said i earned it… and that i should thank you. that you’ve really been looking out for me.”

michael pulled you closer, stuffing his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. his voice was low, warm, and laced with that familiar need.

“he’s right, baby, you did earn it… and you should thank me,” he said softly, placing a quick kiss to your skin as he lifted his head from your neck. he looked at you with those big brown eyes, soft and vulnerable but laced with quiet desperation. “thank me by working with me.”

you furrowed your brows, completely confused. “work with you?” you repeated, searching his face.

“i can’t imagine doing another album without you. you always know what i’m thinking before i even say it.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes soft but intense. “i’ve given you everything… haven’t i? i kept my word,” he paused, his fingers gently tracing your jaw, “please give this to me.”

you felt that familiar pull; the intoxicating mix of love and the deep fear of disappointing him. but this time there was no internal fight. you leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips with complete devotion.

he really had given you everything. a life of luxury, of love. he had taken a chance on you when no one else would. and now he was offering you a future by his side.

“i’ll resign after the album is finished,” you reassured him, sweeping the curls from his face as his eyes grew larger with each word that fell from your lips. “i don’t want to do any of it without you either.”

i cannot wait!! you thought to yourself. michael, a friend of yours, invited you as his plus one to a celebratory party. you met each other on set of the wiz in the summer of ‘79; you were completing an internship as a production assistant. both of you quickly became fond of the other.

beyond all the fame, michael was truly a humble and caring young man. there was only a two year age gap, though you had plans to attend college which made it difficult to see him often. between semesters, he’d fly you out fly in himself, practically inseparable every time you were together. some people commented on it, occasionally a magazine would headline ‘a mrs jackson?’ featuring a very shadowy image of you and michael. you two laughed it off, both of you were too focused on your careers to even imagine a relationship right now.

you completed your degree a year ago now and michael was finally off tour. this meant that for the first time in nearly one year you would be able to see your best friend, not to mention attend an exciting event. michael jackson was probably the most famous person in the world, and as your friend he always wanted to help your career- though you never accepted it… inviting you was his way of inadvertently helping you out. director robert zemeckis is hosting a party to celebrate the premiere of back to the future. various entertainer, producers, and celebrities were invited to this event- how exciting!

you walked down the deep brown stairs of your home, the mesh of your blush dress barely dragging along the floor.

ding!

as your face lit up, you practically skipped to the front door. your heels click-clacked along the floor.

“well,” once the door opened, you were greeted by your best friend’s smile. you saw him in photos of course, but there was nothing like seeing him in person. he boyishly signaled to his ensemble, michaels voice was just as tender as you remembered it. the porch lights illuminated the silky black tie around his burgundy top which complemented the pink accents around your dress.

you squealed and clung onto him, wrapping your arms around his neck and stuffing your face into his neck, “mikey!! i missed you so so so so much.”

“i missed you more,” he softly giggled. instinctively, his hands went to the curves of your waist, grazing the fabric of your expensive garment.

you pulled back and took a moment to examine his face, cupping it in your hands. it’d been so long, you just wanted to keep him here forever- fearful you’d loose him any moment now. the two of you paused here longer than you should, his face made your heart skip... michael could say the same of yours. your glance faltered, making its way to his lips.

he bit his lower lip, “lets go now… hm?”

you awkwardly laughed, “yeah, right,” and snapped back into your cheery demeanor.

michael grabbed your hand and led you to the car, his skin was just as smooth as the last time you felt him.

★

you rested your head on his shoulder, smiling so hard you swore your face would freeze. you loved him so much, michael was like your other half. his hand was wrapped around your hips, rubbing his thumb along your back. tender moments like these blurred the lines between platonic and romantic, especially as michael was quite protective of you. in college, he advised you not to date- to focus on your career. he insisted that a college boy wouldn’t know how to treat you and break your heart. you never had a boyfriend, so what would you know about heartbreak? without thinking twice, you listened to his guidance.

“are you excited?”

you lifted your head to him, “am i excited?”

you moved your hands to grab the collar of his blazer, shaking him a little, “i can’t wait! this is like.. the biggest night of my life!”

he raised his hands in protest, laughing as he let his body fall limp to your grasp. michael found it adorable how perky you got when you were excited for something.

“i know you do things like this all the time, but,” you placed your hands to his thigh, “are you looking forward to tonight?”

he cleared his throat, slightly thrown off guard by your touch, “well, it’s not every time i get to go with you,” quickly recovering.

you cheesed, but before you could respond the car came to a stop.

a beautiful infrastructure stood before you, you took in the gorgeous iron swirls of the doorframe and romantic lighting outside of the venue. your jaw slowly dropped- michael swore he saw sparkles in your eyes. as much as he was in awe of you, the sensation of your hands on his thigh conflicted him. a spew of lewd thoughts entered his mind while he was trying to focus on the beautiful woman in front of him. you, of course, were too taken aback to notice.

★

the party was more extravagant than you could ever imagine. an unknown jazz singer performed on a stage at the other side of the venue, through speakers across the venue you could hear her over the chatter and clanking of glasses. aside from the party being absolutely huge, the crystal chandeliers and marble floor made you swoon.

michael held your hand as you walked in, “i’m a little nervous,” you admitted beneath your breath.

“just follow me,” he winked through his sunglasses, guiding you over to the bar.

you were still taking in the beautiful scenery, your heart fluttered with passion- imagining attending events like these yourself.

"hm," michael asked.

you raised you eyebrows, "what happened," now focusing on michael.

"what do you want to drink," he wrapped an arm around your waist, rubbing his hand up and down the fabric of your dress.

you smiled to the bartender, "a lemonade, please?"

the light haired woman laughed, "a lemonade mimosa?"

rubbing your neck awkwardly, "i'll just have a water," you were slightly embarassed.

"hey-"

michael was cut off by a deep voice behind you, "if you offer a lemonade mimosa, you can make it virgin."

almost instantly, the bartender started on your drink. you turned your head and noticed a highly respected casting director. his skin was olive and he had very defined features that fell right in with his black hair. he was slightly shorter than michael but far taller than you. he'd discovered molly ringwald in sixteen candles. she's got a few movies lined up at this point... a good relationship with him could mean big things for you, and it already seemed to be off to a pretty good spot.

you turned to face him entirely- sneaking from michaels touch, "oh, thank you," you responded, smiling.

"adrien brooks," the man extended his arm towards you, "i've never seen you around before."

shaking his hand, "i'm here with mr. jackson," you looked over to michael... who was now standing  just a bit taller than before.

the two shook hands, you noticed michaels hand flex a bit harder than normal. brooks complimented michael on thriller being such a success; it was rare to see people speak so casually to your best friend. it was heartwarming.

"i'm working on a new movie soon, the audition dates should be in the fall..." adrien started as you collected your lemonade and michaels wine.

he paused, staring at you as if you could read his mind.

"that sounds interesting," you searched for the right words, because truly you had no idea what he was insinuating.

"i'd like to see you there," the words fell off his tongue, so smoothly it's appeared as if he had no idea what he was saying.

an audition? an audition with adrien brooks? adrien. brooks. your heart practically cartwheeled.

shaking your head to snap yourself out of it, your gaze meeting his "well, where are the auditions being held," you tried very hard to contain your excitement, you weren't sure how good you were at that though.

"in fall...," michaels hand met your back, "does that work for you?"

your friends face scrunched up, and you were just as confused as him...

"well, if that doesn't work, we can reserve a date that your free."

michaels hand went to your waist, "november you're attending an event with me, out of the country,” he stated, flexing his jaw.

right now was the first you even heard of an event happening.

you shook it off and complied, “if it isn't too much of a hinderance, could we schedule another time?"

"we can, though, the entire panel may not be able to be there... if that's alright with you?"

something in his face darkened at the same time michaels fingers dug into your side. you couldn't fully understand brooks' expression, but you did know that this opportunity could jumpstart your career.

"um.. that should be alright," taking a sip of your lemonade.

"how about sometime in august?"

nodding, "that should be great," holding in the fact that you wanted to skip around the entire party. your first real audition, in the room with a real casting director- this conversation alone was an accomplishment.

"what day in august," michaels tone was sharp.

brooks laughed, "what day works for you, pretty lady?"

you blushed slightly, unsure if it was out of embarrassment or flattery, "i'm not quite sure-

"the beginning of august wont work, i'm flying you out to new york with me."

"well, the auditions are in new york, so that should work perfectly."

your face lit up- but before you could respond

"listen, adrien... brooks was it," michael removed his sunglasses.

the man nodded, his demeanor never shifting from any other than confidence.

his tone turned to one that was accusatory, "what is this project you're working on?"

"michael," you pressed a hand to your friends chest, "oh my gosh, i'm sorry. i know that you have to keep these things private." you felt embarrassed, and slightly betrayed. michael wasn't fucking stupid, you knew what he was doing. this was not the first, and definitely not the last, time michael has become protective of you around someone- though now he was messing with your career.

brooks laughed, "no, it's alright. i can't say anything about it here, but if you'd like to speak in private i'd be more than happy to share."

you shook your head and laughed awkwardly, "no, no, that's okay. i do believe in you, i mean your work speaks for itself-"

"can i speak with you," michaels gaze never left the casting director, though he was talking to you, "privately?"

you scrunched your face, beginning to get aggravated, "can't it wait michael?"

"that's alright pretty, we can speak later, alright," as brooks turned around he shot a dirty look at your best friend.

at that moment something in michael switched, "excuse me," his voice was naturally soft, but it now had an intensity to it.

brooks didn't even offer a second glance.

"michael, stop," you warned.

he ignored you, walking to meet brooks' back.

"what the fuck is your problem," the black haired man abruptly turned around, only inches away from michaels face.

he scoffed, "the fuck is your problem," looking slightly down out him.

"michael," you grabbed the end of his sleeve, glaring at him.

his tone was soft when speaking to you, "angel, it's fine."

brooks crossed his arms and pursed his lips together, "ah, i see," squinting his eyes at michael.

you took a step closer to brooks, "what are you talking about?"

at this point, nearly everyone was focused on the scene the three of you were causing.

"the rumors are true."

"what fucking rumors," you and michael asked, almost in sync.

"you didn't want me to audition her- because you're dating."

so many different expressions of disbelief splattered across your face in only 15 expressions, michael- however, had a far better poker face than you.

"we're not dealing with this shit," your best friend grabbed your wrist and started to the exit.

you tried to yank your wrist back, but his grip was far too tight.

"mike-," close to tripping, "let go of me."

you glanced behind you, noticing the numerous eyes on you. adrien brooks shouted something indistinctive while the guests gossiped about the fight between michael jackson and this casting director- an unknown compared to michael. embarrassment washed over you.

once you entered the elevator, he released your wrist. you held it in your other hand, trying to soothe the pain as michael dialed lobby on the door. tears threatened to fall out of your eyes, but you hid it with anger.

you shouted at michael as he faced the door, "what the hell is wrong with you?"

no response.

"you're actually fucking kidding me right now, right?"

still no response.

"talk to me mike," you shoved his shoulder, and as the elevator opened he walked out, not looking at you once. the sound of your heels took up the entire hallway.

"thank you for coming," an usher smiled as you two walked by.

"thank you for having us," michaels gentle tone responded.

you rolled your eyes, "oh shut up."

luckily, as soon as you made it to the door, the car was out front. the driver held the door open for you, and michael "chivalrously" let you slide in first.

continuing as soon as the door shut, "are you fucking kidding me michael?"

he turned his head to face you, raising his eyebrows, "am i kidding you?"

"yes! are you kidding me? this is the one thing, the one thing, i have always wanted in life- and there you go! you ruined this for me michael," tears threatened to fall out of your eyes as you turned your hands into a fist, digging your nails into your palms.

michael noticed, he knew you better than anyone else. he would be lying if he said i didn't make him melt... everything you did made him melt. unfortunately, he was conflicted with feelings arising elsewhere. anytime you were mad, or cried, he made it a point to be there for you for his own selfish reasons.

he shook his head, facepalming, "did you hear what he was saying?"

"that he wanted to audition me!"

"privately,” removing his hand from his face.

"people do private auditions all the time, mike!"

"angel," he cupped your face.

"get off me," you bit back.

michaels touch was tender, "angel. you didn't know what you were doing. you were making stupid choices... you've not been in the industry long enough-," a tinge of pity arising in his voice.

"then that's my decision to make.”

his patience was wearing thin, “angel, just drop it.”

“drop it?!”

“i said, drop it,” letting his hand fall to his lap.

“i’m tired of listening to you all the time, michael, all you do is tell me what to do! you’re not my dad, you’re not my brother, you’re my-“

“do you know how much i do for you,” his voice overpowering yours, “you don’t know what you’re doing, at all! how long have i been in this industry?”

you stared into his eyes for only a few more seconds before backing down. you didn’t respond, fiddling with the fabric of your dress. his volume shattered your heart. sometimes, mike would raise his voice at you… but sometimes you really were being just too difficult.

michael commanded, “tell me.”

the car fell silent. you sniffled, and wiped your face with your eyes. his demeanor quickly shifted.

“m’sorry mikey,” you crossed your arms, hugging yourself. embarrassed by your outburst… which truly wasn’t your fault.

shit, he thought to himself, “no, i’m sorry, angel.”

you shook your head, not wanting to speak to him, to be in this car, to ever have even gotten ready for the evening.

“c’mere,” michael took you in, bringing you onto his lap; you tucked you head into your best friends chest, holding onto his blazer. michaels arms wrapped around your entire body, running up and down your back.

“s’okay, angel, you don’t know any better.”

you frowned and peered up at him, “i just wanted to make it…”

“you will, but you don’t need anyone else. i’ve been trying to help you-“

“i want to do it myself, mike,” your face was desperate. michael always told you that you needed him, since you’ve known each other. as much as you wanted to say it was untrue, it was. especially in scenarios like this. it was absolutely true. any time you tried to defy him, michael always ended up being right- and he always was there for you no matter what.

he kissed your cheek, “i just want whats best for you,” and then placed a peck on your lips.

“i know mikey,” your voice trailed off.

“i’m the only one that knows whats best for you,” his voice was low…

he held you for a few moments before you kissed him back. every time you guys argued, you couldn’t help but want to love him. you felt so guilty, and no matter what- your best friend was always there for you. he held your head to deepen the kiss, and it slowly turned into several passionate and sloppy kisses.

which was soon cut off by you, “should we be doing this?”

you innocently stared into his eyes, unsure of all your feelings.

he bit your lower lip and gently pulled away, “it’s what friends do…”

which was enough for you.

★

the rest of the car ride was spent intertwining your tongues. as soon as you arrived to your home, michael carried you upstairs into your room. he kissed you all the way there.

your friend laid you down onto the bed, nibbling n licking stripes on your sensitive neck.

“mikey…”

he hummed, still working you up.

“i really,” you arched into him, “need you…”

he sighed, his erection only becoming more snd more prominent, throbbing through his suit pants.

“yeah?”

you frantically nodded, no one made you feel as good as your best friend. you felt a lewd sensation between your legs… already leaking for him.

“how much,” michael looked up at you.

“please, mikey,” wrapping your legs around him, “please.”

he softly chuckled at your desperate, “anything for you, princess.”

you untangled your legs from him, allowing michael to rise. he kissed your forehead and began pulling down your dress, and then your undergarments. this isn’t the first time you two have gotten intimate before, he’s the only boy you’ve ever been with.

the cool air on your skin made you shiver while he removed his own clothes, carefully discarding them on the rug beside your bed. you desperately reached towards him, aching for him. michael has only ever been there for you… your best friend is such a good man. he thought your desperation was adorable, it just made him want to take care of you even more. your little squirming, needy, body.

he used his thumb to graze your clit, forcing the most embarrassing sounds to escape your lips.

“mmikey..,” your eyes fluttered shut, “feels s’good-“

you reached your arm towards his erection, you were addicted to him.

michael rested his slender hands on your hips, his touch was so gentle. he began to rub his aching cock onto your heat.

“so wet, huh, princess?”

you nodded, “mhm, mikey,” biting back your lip.

you never could get used to his length or thicknes but it felt so good every time he stretched you out. michael pulled back to align himself with your hole, to comfort you, michael ran his hand down your right arm and made his way to your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours. he eased his tip inside you, which caused tears to stream down your face- ruining your makeup just a bit more.

“i know, princess…” he slid in a few more inches, “i know.”

you threw you head back as he entered you entirely, beginning to cry.

“i’m sorry mikey-,” you covered your face with your free hand and squeezed his.

michael cursed beneath his breath, “it’s okay… you fuck know better now, right?”

your best friend continued with deeply passionate strokes. your mouth hung slightly open, saliva almost dripping out the corners. you were absolutely entranced.

“so dumb f’me, yeah?”

“yes mikeyy,” you slurred out.

michael grabbed your other hand, holding it as well. your breasts bounced with each stroke inside, he was in awe of how beautifully his best friend took him.

“not gonna act out any more?”

“m-no, nno, mikey!”

“‘m the only one that knows what’s best for you… the only one shit that makes you feel this good.”

he continued at the same pace, until he noticed you were getting close. he paused while deeply inside of you. you cried out, begging him to move.

“please!! mikey, i need you,” you arched your hips into him.

“stay still,” he commanded, “from now on you’re going to listen to me.”

“yesssmm,” whining and forcing your body in place.

he pushed himself a little deeper, “i’m the only one who knows whats best for you. say it. i’m-“

you repeated in unison, “the only one who knows whats best for me..”

“that’s my angel,” he continued his deep pace. the room was instantly filled with your pants and moans, you didn’t know how to respond to such erotic emotions. the two of you arrived at the same time, he made sure to release onto your stomach. you twitched, trying to come down from your orgasm before…

“fucking shit,” michael forced himself back into you, “youre still so tight.”

“mikey,” you attempted to push him off of your sensitive body, but you were too weak to release from his hands.

“s’okay, s’okay. need you, angel.”

you shook your head, clamping down on his cock, “i can’t.. ttake- can’t, mikey- please-“

he released your right hand to cup your cheek, “yes you can,” michael encouraged.

uncontrollable sobs escaped your aching body, pleasure overtaking you once again.

“y’know why you can?”

“mm-mmm,” you whined out, partially in response but also in ecstasy.

“cause you’re my best friend,” he kissed your lips, lowering his body onto you- allowing his cock to enter you further, “n no one makes me feel this fucking good.”

it wasn’t long before you unraveled with each other, your bodies truly in sync.

“mikey.. s’good..,” you cried out as he rubbed his length onto your stomach.

his body twitched on top of you. a few moments were spent in the silence of the both of you catching your breaths, soft i love yous.

michael kissed your lips before finding the drawer with his clothes in your bedroom, and a towel. he wiped your aching clit before sliding his boxers up your legs- then, dressing you in a black top. he then dressed himself, putting on his boxers. michael lifted you up to place you on your side of the bed, tucking you in.

“thank you for being my friend,” you murmured as he climbed into bed beside you.

“of course, my angel.”

Michael started his trip to the dressing room, the buckles and zips on his stage fit jingled as he walked, tight and glossy curls bounced with each step. He took off his facial mask and pushed open the door, not having enough time to do his own base makeup at home before he was rushed to the venue. His breath stuttered in his chest at the sight that greeted him. You sat on top of the vanity with one leg propped under you while the other swayed off the table as you flipped through a fashion magazine. You snapped the magazine shut as the bubble from the gum encased by your red lips popped. Michael’s eyes gently trailed over your short hair in a tousled layered pixie cut, the smoked out eyeshadow with a pop of blue on your waterline and your sharply lined eyes. You were clad in a cropped biker jacket that looked like it had seen better days with a simple white tube top underneath and leather shorts, a few pops of gold peeking through with your jewellery. Your style was inexplicable, somewhere between following the current pop culture trends while also erring towards punk elements. It was refreshing and unapologetic. You were undeniably stunning, a real sight for sore eyes but he also felt slightly intimidated by your seemingly nonchalant and relaxed demeanor. 

You hopped off the vanity and tucked the gum under your tongue before you reached out a hand, “About time you got here, I thought you got lost. I’m [reader] and I’ll be doing your makeup. Thank you for this opportunity and I won’t let you down.” Michael took himself out of his daze before he reached out a warm hand to shake yours, your burgundy tipped nails brushed his fingers and he suppressed a shudder, “Pleasure to meet you. Your makeup looks great so I have no doubts.” You let go of his hand, ignoring how large his hand was as it nearly engulfed yours before you smiled widely at him. “Well now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let’s get to work.” you said as you cracked your knuckles and turned back to the vanity where all your products and tools were neatly laid out. 

You were clearly a woman on a mission, no frills or fussing and he admired that about you. Michael’s eyes tried to not-so-subtly look at your beautiful figure slightly bent over the table as you fussed with the items, completely forgetting what you said as he was just utterly enamoured with your presence. You looked off to the side where he was just standing still, you didn’t even look at him fully but Michael was graced with your side profile as you raised a pretty eyebrow and motioned to the chair, “Sit.” He was almost comically quick to obey. 

He hoped his face was calm and collected because he felt the complete opposite as he subtly wiped the sweat building on his hands on his thighs. The angle from sitting down and having to look up at you has existing pre-concert nerves already fraying. You spit out the gum into a tissue paper and discarded it, you then shrugged off your leather jacket and placed it on a nearby rack. Michael held a breath as he now stared at your bare arms and shoulders, your skin almost seemed luminescent under the lights. You then approached him with an outstretched hand and a finger smoothed out the curls from his forehead and then played around with some base products and brushes to match the correct shade. For someone who seemed so fierce and looked like she marched to the beat of her own drums, your hands were surprisingly gentle as they swept over his face and you put him at ease, making sure to take some breaks in between steps and check if he was doing alright. He tried not to seem too eager to receive your touch when you held his face or poked and prodded at his skin. Michael gave his own directions and insights into how he wanted the final product to look like and you complied. 

“How long have you been doing makeup?” Michael asked with mild curiosity. You paused your ministrations as you straightened your posture a bit, “Hmm. For as long as I can remember. I watched my mother and older cousins do their own makeup. I was always trying to copy them and played with my ma’s stuff. She would get so mad.” you giggled as you reminisced and Michael laughed back. “Eventually I figured out my own style in my late teens.” you finished. “So, how’s it like going on your first solo tour?” you asked as you grabbed more product with your brush. Michael took a deep breath and licked his lips before he answered, “Surreal. It’s really nerve-wracking but I’m also really happy. I’m excited to give the fans- my fans. It feels really good to say that- an unforgettable show.” You grinned wide, “I’m sure you will. Your performances are truly amazing.” Michael tried and failed to hide a toothy grin as his eyes bore into you, “So you watched my performances?” Your hands froze momentarily before you cooly replied, “Who hasn’t?” He bit his bottom lip slightly before he cheesed even more, “Oh yeah? Tell me more.” You took the end of the brush and mock threatened him with it, “We are NOT going there, twinkle toes.” 

The next few minutes passed with some playful banter and small talk. Michael unabashedly stared at you and you did your fair share of staring too, never being more grateful to be a makeup artist since it gave you a solid excuse. The atmosphere was warm and intimate as you two were in your own bubble. “Your skin is so smooth. I’m actually a little bit jealous.” you whispered in mild awe as you buffed the foundation into his skin. The brush slanted a bit in your hold as Michael smiled, the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. His voice was hushed but layered with an undercurrent of insecurity, “The patches don’t bother you?” Your hands paused for a second before you continued, you looked deep into his pretty doe eyes to shrug one shoulder and snorted, “Why would they? I’d be a terrible makeup artist if it did.” Michael broke the intense eye contact as the simple response shook his core. You didn’t make his vitiligo a big deal, you didn’t even think of mentioning it, your eyes barely glanced at the depigmented patches of skin. You didn’t make him feel different. “It’s just skin.” you said. And that was that. 

Since the face was done, it was time for your favourite part, the eyes. Michael’s eyes were unnervingly beautiful. When you took up this job, you almost didn’t believe it. Makeup artist for Michael Jackson? You counted your lucky stars because it wasn’t everyday you got to do what you loved and it involved one of the most sought out male celebrities on the planet. You grabbed your eyeliner and uncapped it before you faced him. “Hold still.” you ordered in a whisper before you leaned closer. Michael suddenly felt overwhelmingly bashful at the proximity, your pretty face was too close to his, he could smell your sweet perfume drifting to him and his glazed eyes drifted across your teasing décolletage since you took off your leather jacket. He glanced at your red pouty lips and an unbidden thought flashed through his mind. He bit his bottom lip nervously before he leaned his head back a bit, “Uh- I’m gonna go uh grab some water.” You instantly backed off with a smile and nodded, “Sure, pretty sure there’s some in the mini fridge over there.” Michael sprang off his seat and beelined it for the fridge to grab a bottle.

You turned back to the vanity to check on your own makeup and play around with your hair, making faces into the mirror when you felt eyes on you. You didn’t spare him a glance, inwardly reveling under his gaze and calmly spoke, “Like what you see?” Michael clearly didn’t expect you to take notice and he nearly choked on the water. He cleared his throat and screwed the cap on the bottle before he went to sit back down in the chair with a deep calming breath.

“Alright, where were we?” you muttered to yourself as you uncapped your eyeliner and leaned back in. One hand reached out as you raised his eyebrow up using your thumb on his hairline and your other hand began to gently line one eye. You were so close, Michael could feel your slow breathing on his face and trying to keep calm under your intense gaze was one of the hardest things he had to do this week. His eye twitched slightly and you tutted gently, “You need to stop twitching.” “I can’t help it, it tickles.” he said with a giggle. “Stop laughing too!” you exclaimed as you used a q-tip to wipe some smudges off, the laughter in your voice couldn’t be hidden either. At this point you both stopped to laugh, doubled over and you bumped heads. “Ouch!” “Ow!” you both shouted in sync before you laughed again. 

Eventually the two of you had calmed down, Michael’s twitching barely stopped and his eyeliner took longer to apply than it should have. “Perfect!” you mused, almost like you didn’t realise you said it as you applied the last stroke of black on his pretty eye then capped your eyeliner. His stomach did the thing where it dropped and then inflated back up at your mindless comment. How did a woman he only met an hour ago manage to disarm him so quickly? He felt really comfortable around you. You were so effortlessly charming and confident- truly one of a kind. He didn’t realise how attractive it was to have a beautiful lady approach him and it was refreshing. 

“Careful, if I didn’t know, I’d think you’re flirting with me.” he said, voice light with laughter as he smiled wide. You didn’t back down and instead you smiled back, equally flirtatious, “Now that would be unprofessional, wouldn’t it, Mr. Jackson?” He laughed and looked down shyly, “So unprofessional that I want you to do my makeup for the rest of the tour. And please, call me Michael.” You lazily leaned back against the vanity, one leg bent as though you knew the effect you have on him, “My my, I must’ve left quite the impression on you.” Someone had banged on the door, “Show time! You’re on in 10!” Time flew by fast. He looked at you as his gaze implored yours, heart nearly beating out of his chest like a hummingbird in a cage, “Is that a yes?” You laughed as you held out your hand, red nails glistening under the lights, “You’ve got yourself a deal, Michael” Michael’s heart fluttered at the sweet tone you used to say his name and he reached out his hand to shake yours, his thumb gently brushed over your knuckles as his warm eyes filled with mirth stared into yours, “Deal.”

“Now let’s put the finger tape on.” you announced with a clap. Michael’s brain shortcircuited as he looked at you with wide doe eyes, as if it wasn’t bad enough surviving close proximity with makeup and now you were gonna basically hold hands together. And yet he wasn’t going to refuse. Maybe the show was gonna be the easiest part of today. 

masterlist

Again, you were, by all means, a professional crybaby. To you, the world wasn't just a place to live; it was a constant, crashing wave of emotion that left you breathless and drenched in tears. You didn't just feel empathy; you absorbed it, your heart acting like a sponge for every ounce of sadness or purity in the universe. A misplaced look, a short goodbye, or a minor disagreement was enough to send you into a spiral of dramatic despair.

Most men would have run for the hills, terrified by the sheer volume of your feelings. But Michael? Michael lived for it. He adored the way you clung to him, the way your lip trembled, and the way you made every little moment feel like a grand tragedy. He treated your emotions like a symphony he was privileged to conduct, often finding that the quickest way to stop your tears was to replace them with loud, breathless moans of pleasure.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Your days were a series of emotional crescendos. One afternoon, you had simply been watching Michael interact with Bubbles. The sight of the little monkey’s tiny hands reaching for a treat, the pure, uncomplicated love in Michael’s eyes—it was too much. You had burst into a fit of dramatic sobbing, clutching your chest as if your heart might actually crack open from the sheer sweetness of it.

"It's just... so... precious!" you wailed, your voice cracking as you collapsed against his shoulder. Michael had just chuckled softly, the sound a warm vibration against your cheek. He wrapped his arms around you, kissing your temple with a look of pure, indulgent affection. He loved how much you cared; he loved that you were so open, so raw.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Then there was the time you spotted a stranger in the grocery store with a small, beige bandaid on their thumb. You had stopped dead in your tracks, a hand flying to your mouth, your eyes welling up instantly. "Oh my god, Mickey, look! Imagine the pain! Imagine the shock of the cut!" you cried, your voice rising in a crescendo of sympathy for a stranger who probably didn't even remember the cut. Michael had just smiled, shaking his head with a fond grin, guiding you away while thinking about how lucky he was to have someone with such a massive, bleeding heart.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

Even music was a minefield. The moment a song played about a lonely boy and his rat named Ben, the tragedy of a child forced to watch his only friend be killed, you were completely undone. You didn't just cry; you mourned. You lay on the sofa, sobbing with all the theatrics, your shoulders shaking as you lamented the loss of Michael’s rat.

"Poor lil Mickey!" you sobbed, your face scrunching up in a mask of genuine grief. "He was all you had, Mickey! All you had!"

Michael would just pull you into his lap, stroking your curls and humming a low, soothing melody. He found your dramatic displays enchanting. To him, you were a delicate instrument, and he loved being the only one who knew exactly how to play you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

But that same drama followed you into the bedroom, where your sensitivity turned into a volatile hunger. In the dark, under the weight of his body, your tears changed meaning. They weren't about bandaids or monkeys anymore; they were about the sheer, overwhelming power of him.

He had you pinned to the mattress, your untamed curls splayed out across the pillows like a dark halo. Your legs were thrown high in the air, draped over his shoulders, exposing every inch of your soaking wet heat to his gaze. When he first slid his dick inside you, the sensation was so sudden and intense that your breath caught in a jagged gasp, and the waterworks started immediately.

The friction was like white-hot electricity flooding through your veins, sparking from your clit all the way up to your chest. You started to sob, your head tossing back as you let out a dramatic, longing wail of pleasure.

Michael froze, his muscles tensing. He pulled back just an inch, his dark eyes searching yours. He knew you, but he always checked, his voice a soft, concerned melody. "Are you okay? Baby, tell me... am I hurting you?"

"No!" you cried out, a sob racking your frame as a tear streamed down your temple. "No, Mickey, please... don't stop! It's just... it's too much! You’re too good to me!"

A small, knowing smile tugged at his lips. He found the way you were falling apart for him incredibly sexy. He began to move again, slow and deliberate at first, then picking up the pace. Every thrust was a thunderclap in your nervous system. Your pussy squelched loudly around him, the sound of your own lubrication mixing with the wet slap of his hips hitting your ass.

You were completely undone, your emotions peaking alongside your pleasure. You couldn't even find the strength to wrap your arms around him; you just lay there, shaking, your chest heaving as you took every inch of him.

"You... you fuckin me like you hate me," you sobbed, your voice thick, broken, and full of dramatic longing. "I don't deserve this dick, fuck... I really don't!"

Michael groaned, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. Hearing your desperation, the way you were practically mourning the pleasure while it was happening, only fueled him. He drove deeper, hitting your cervix with a force that made your toes curl and your vision blur.

"You sure? You still good, baby?" he whispered, his voice strained.

“please Mickey keep fucking me just like that, please keep going” you replied, voice slurred, your brain was mush at this point.

He lost the battle with his own restraint, hammering into you with intensity. You were a mess of tears and sweat, your body arching off the bed as the electricity peaked. When he finally hit his limit, he groaned your name, burying himself deep inside you and unloading his warm nut in heavy pulses that made you sob even harder, your voice rising in a final, peak of ecstasy.

As he slowly slid out of you, the sudden absence of his heat felt like a physical wound. The void where his dick had been was almost unbearable. You curled into a ball, the aftershocks of the orgasm still rippling through you, and the tears flowed more freely than ever before, your chest heaving with dramatic grief.

Michael pulled you into his arms, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair, watching you with an expression of pure, adoring love.

"What is it now, sweetheart?" he asked softly, his voice full of amusement and tenderness.

he notices everything. the way you subconsciously cover your mouth when you laugh too hard. the way you refuse to smile in photos until he tells you to stop hiding. eventually he starts smiling with his teeth on purpose whenever you're around, hoping you'll realize neither of you has anything to be embarrassed about. after you've been dating for a while, kissing becomes less scary than either of you expected. there are still the occasional tiny bumps of metal that make both of you stop for a second before laughing, foreheads resting together while michael quietly mumbles, "we're gettin' better at this."

he likes that it's something only the two of you understand. nobody else gets why the two of you randomly grin at each other after orthodontist appointments, or why he immediately notices when you switch the color of your bands. he definitely notices. every single time.

sometimes he'll spend half of rehearsal distracted because you've changed from pink to red. and when someone jokingly tells you you'd both look "so much better" once the braces come off, michael almost looks offended on your behalf. because, honestly? he doesn't think they take anything away from you.

if anything, he thinks they make your smile even sweeter. he'd probably miss them a little once they're gone, not because he likes braces themselves, but because they'd become part of this little chapter of growing up together. something only the two of you shared. years later, he'd still laugh whenever he'd find an old polaroid of the two of you, all afros, bell-bottoms, wide smiles, matching silver brackets catching the sunlight without either of you caring anymore. <3

whenever he kisses you. at first he was so careful, stopping every few seconds because he was terrified of bumping your brackets or hurting you. now he just naturally knows how to tilt his head, how to move a little slower, how to smile against your lips when you accidentally laugh halfway through. it's become something only the two of you understand. sometimes you'll pull away after a kiss with the tiniest click of metal, both of you freezing for a second before dissolving into quiet laughter. michael always laughs first. not because it's embarrassing, but because somehow every awkward little moment feels special when it's with you.

he starts finding reasons to kiss you more often than necessary. before rehearsal. after rehearsal. when you hand him his jacket. when you tell him goodnight. sometimes just because you smiled at him from across the room.

he'll lean in like it's the most natural thing in the world, one hand tucked into the pocket of his flared jeans while the other gently cups your cheek, smiling into the kiss because he already knows you're smiling too. he secretly loves that your braces make you both slow down.

there's no rushing. no dramatic movie kisses. just two teenagers learning each other a little more every day. and every now and then he'll pull away only an inch, forehead resting against yours, looking at you with the biggest grin. "...still not tired of kissin' me?" you'll shake your head before he can even finish asking. he smiles even wider. "Oh you pretty girl." then he kisses you again anyway. not because he needs to. just because he can.

later that night, lying in bed, he'll catch himself touching his own braces while thinking about you. it makes him laugh, realizing the thing he'd once been so self-conscious about has somehow become one of his favorite reminders of being seventeen, because every memory attached to those silver brackets somehow includes you.

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