Hello everyone! My name is Elliot. I'm 22 and I use they/he pronouns. I originally made this account to be for Ghost but I've decided to make it multifandom, whatever the main hyperfixation is.
I also started writing x reader on here which isn't something I thought i would ever write for but it's been a fun time! My masterlist is here.
I currently have only written for Michael Jackson. I am open to fic suggestions if anyone wants to ask for any (though do know that for smut ideas I may not write them. I am still getting used to writing smut so it just depends on if it's something i think i could write well!)
━ ˙⋆✮ Telling dangerous era!Michael how pretty he is while you ride him… 18+ mdni
He gets all flustered, not because of the way you’re grinding against him— his dick deep inside of you while your hips move sinfully over his. No. He’s all worked up because you keep telling him how pretty he is. “Oh Mikey, look at you.” while you’re gliding back and forth, a slick mess pooling between your bodies. “God- you’re so pretty baby.” as you bury him even deeper. He’s squirming. Submitting to your sweet whispers, with heavy eyelids, and his hands pulling at your hips. Little moans and whines of satisfaction seep from his chest as he listens to your praises purr from above. Letting out a quiet little “thank you,” as he watches where your bodies connect, with sweaty curls clinging to his forehead and his head falling back into the pillows.
━ SUMMARY: when a phone call with his producer cuts into your date night, you decide to take matters into your own hands or mouth
━ CONTENT: 18+, smut, cursing, giving michael a blowjob while he’s on the phone, established relationship, mike’s down bad what’s new, oral m & f receiving he eats it like it’s his last meal, lots of teasing, a tiny bit of jealous michael bc why not, unprotected sex!!! (not a good idea y’all be safe out there), creampie, switch michael supremacy, them fuckin on the living room couch….idk they’re young & in love leave them alone
━ AUTHOR’S NOTE: i implore you to imagine off the wall michael with this one… (post otw but pre thriller) he was pregnant with the lady in my life here. idk let’s just imagine he was an absolute freak in the sheets during this time, mans was topping charts & winning awards nobody could stop him
Exactly forty-seven minutes had passed since Michael answered the call from Quincy.
“This’ll only take ten minutes.” His famous last words were uttered through a smile when he first held the phone to his ear, His producer’s voice audible even from where you sat on the other end of the couch.
You kept yourself busy with twiddling thumbs, ready to resume the rest of your evening, when ten minutes came and went. Then twenty— then thirty— leaving you to wonder if you’d ever get your boyfriend back at all.
Michael mouthed a voiceless, “I’m sorry” as he carried on the conversation nearly an hour later.
Your legs crossed and uncrossed against the couch cushions, as you picked at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. You listened to him talk, your gaze trailing over to where his fingers were wrapped in the phone cord, twisting and twirling as he went on and on about the sound of his next album.
You were supposed to be having a movie night tonight. It was a rare occurrence; Michael having the house to himself. He was excited to have you over, just the two of you, alone.
Although, he did love having you around his family— loved parading you around in front of his brothers.
He’d spent far too long listening to them give him a hard time. All their remarks about “when little mikey would ever get a girl.” So when you came into his life, he didn’t hesitate to show you off. You were just so perfect, and you were his.
He thanked his lucky stars for that late night at Quincy’s house. You’d met there when Michael was arriving to work on some demos and you were just heading out. You caught his attention immediately.
The producer’s house was always a revolving door of new faces, but you, he’d never seen you before. He would’ve remembered a pretty face like that— such delicate eyes, and the most mesmerizing smile he’d ever seen. He was instantly infatuated.
You made your exit after a quick introduction where Michael learned you were a close family friend of Quincy’s. You rushed out the door, assuring them that you didn’t want to “impose” and that you were “just leaving.” But Michael nearly begged you to stay. A three minute conversation wasn’t enough, he needed more. And despite his best efforts, he was less than subtle when he could barely wait for the door to close at your heels before asking about you— he was just too eager. Eager to know more, to hear your voice again, he was so determined that he got your phone number from Quincy and called you the very next day.
And while you were thankful that their close-knit relationship led to date nights snuggled next to Michael on his couch, you didn’t love that it also meant the two of them would be having brainstorming sessions at nine o’clock on a Saturday night.
Which is exactly why Michael had spent the better half of an hour talking on the phone, only sparing you a few glances and a handful of apologetic smiles.
It didn’t bother you, not really, but sitting there, watching his long slender fingers play with the coils of the telephone and seeing how his brows furrowed as he took charge of the conversation, made your thighs clench.
There was an undeniable heat running rampant between you, a raging, sweltering fire that neither of you were interested in putting out. Everything was just so new and addicting. The mutual infatuation was all consuming, both of you living in desperation for just a single minute alone so you could get your hands on each other.
And right now— you were needy and he was just so tempting.
The gentle cadence of his voice filled the room as he spoke, soft and sweet. It was reminiscent of the low sighs he would let out when you were beneath him.
His finger kept twirling, hooking and bending the handset cord while he bit at his lip, listening intently to Quincy on the other line, and you couldn’t help yourself. The subliminal movement of his slender digits sent you over the edge.
You set the popcorn bowl aside, inching your way closer to Michael until your shoulders were nearly touching.
You did your best to bat your lashes and pout your lips to convey a silent— “pretty please hang up the phone Mikey, I need you.”— But your efforts to sway him failed miserably as he held up a single finger in your direction, telling you to wait like you were some sort of impatient child getting scolded.
With a slight annoyance buzzing through your veins, and the damp sensation of your panties between your thighs, you sent your hand trailing up his leg, palm flat and heavy against his jeans.
A stern frown tugged at his lips, eyes narrowing as he looked your direction— a silent warning.
But you could see something fighting beneath the straight line of his lips, a twitch, a little grin pulling at the corners of his mouth— a challenge.
His eyes followed intently as your hand brushed against the denim at his crotch, your fingers dancing pompously at his zipper before he reached down to grab your wrist.
It was a light touch— cautionary and relaxed. And when your eyes met his again, the grin he was trying so hard to keep off his face was now a painfully obvious smirk. His hands were urging you to stop but his facial expression told an entirely different story.
Abandoning his attempt to be the responsible one in the situation, he lifted his hips in compliance as the gradual purr of his zipper echoed in quiet surrender.
A lazy “Mhmm,” hummed past his lips and into the phone.
The response was meant for Quincy. A soft murmur of agreement; but the way his eyes watched carefully as your head ducked down— the tip of his cock just barely meeting your lips— made you wonder if the sound was secretly meant for you. A quiet hum of encouragement.
You pressed your tongue flat against him, slow and sloppy, and he had to pull the phone a few inches from his ear, letting his head fall back and his teeth bite into his bottom lip, hard.
“Yeah, I think-“ he brought the phone back to his ear, ready to respond but stopping mid sentence.
Your lips wrapped around him, tongue swirling methodically against his tip, and he sucked in a shallow breath through his teeth to keep from moaning.
“No, I think that’s a good idea…” His voice was barely above a whisper as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to focus on the conversation.
His brows pulled together and his hands twitched, nearly flying to the back of your head, when you took him so deep into your mouth that you nearly gagged. He had to bite at his knuckles to keep from groaning straight into the telephone.
With his dick down your throat, you gazed up, hoping to see his pupils blown out in pleasure, but instead you were met with his eyelids— his eyes still closed, teeth digging into his hand, and phone at his ear.
It wasn’t until you wrapped your fingers around his shaft using your hand in tandem with your mouth, that his eyes shot open.
His glare was laced with submission as he watched you work up and down between his legs. The sight of your lips around him causing a mess of noises to choke into his hand as he tried to keep quiet.
His sounds were muffled and you could hear the murmur of Quincy’s voice drowning on through the phone, clueless that Michael wasn’t paying attention to a single word.
You worked faster, palm slick against his length and mouth messily sucking, with muffled whines sliding past your lips.
“Q I gotta- I gotta go.” Stammering out each word, Michael finally gave in, unsure if he could carry on with the way your little sounds felt against his cock.
“Yeah, I’ll call tomorrow.” His voice was weak and rushed as he tried to end the phone call. He’d have to come up with an explanation for the abrupt goodbye tomorrow, but for now he just needed the distraction gone.
The phone landed back in the switch hook with a quick “click” just as Michael let out the loudest groan you’d ever heard.
“Good God mama, you’re gonna kill me.” The words drained from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking into your mouth.
His hands found the back of your head, caressing and guiding you onto his cock.
“Couldn’t even let me take a quick phone call.” He muttered the words with his head falling back against the couch, but as soon as it leaves his mouth, you sit back, pulling your lips off of him and causing a broken whine to break from his chest.
You stare up at him, lips plump and a single brow raised in bewilderment.
You were preparing to make a sarcastic comment before leaving him to take care of himself after his smart-ass remark, but he uses the break to his advantage, pulling you from between his legs and flipping your body until your back met the couch cushions.
“Someone needs to learn how to be a little more patient.” His voice was like silk traveling between your bodies as he hovered over you. His delivery was so soft and supple, you almost didn’t mind that he was using it to chastise you.
“If I know what I want, why wait?” There was a slight irritation in your tone that Michael picked up on immediately.
Laughing against your skin, he brought his face down to your neck leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. He moved down your body, nose brushing against your torso, as his hands pushed at your shirt, giving him access to your stomach. Slow kisses littered the waistline of your pants as he took his time, teasing.
“Sometimes all the fun is in the waiting...” He doesn’t even look at you when the whisper leaves his lips, too busy running them along your skin.
“anticipation.” The word hums against you and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.
“Mikey please.”
He gives in, peeling the clothing from your legs until you’re bare, back arching off the couch, needy for him to do something, anything.
“I like it when you beg. Sounds real pretty.” He’s cooing as he watches the way your legs spread for him, his stare fixated on the glistening mess between your thighs.
“Just fuck me- please.” With a desperate whine in your last word you give him exactly what he wants— you beg.
“Wanna get a taste first.”
Michael would spend hours between your thighs if you let him. He was obsessed with your pleasure, fixated on the way your body would react. Listening for the little sighs that would seep from your chest and flicking his tongue over the same spot until your legs were clenching around his head. He loved that he could make you feel like that— on the verge of complete ecstasy with just his mouth.
Lowering himself flat against the couch, he presses his tongue flat against your center, wasting no time; lapping at your core and moaning into you with the taste of your arousal dousing his tongue.
He ate like he was starving, only satisfied through every gasp on your lips and tug in his hair.
He sucked at your clit. Lewd sounds filled the room as his mouth suctioned around your wet pussy, his groans muffled and yours ringing out across the room.
Thank god no one would be home tonight.
Michael loved showing you off in front of his brothers but he couldn’t handle the thought of them seeing you like this. A dark shade of envy clouded his vision at the mere idea of it. They couldn’t love you like he could— couldn’t make you feel the way her could.
The warm, wet muscle of his tongue met your gummy walls and you had to keep yourself from clamping your legs around his ears. It was sloppy and desperate the way his tongue fucked in and out of you.
His lips enveloped your cunt, every inch of his mouth hot and wet against you, dedicated to your pleasure. Hungry to have you writhing against his face until you were on the verge of tears.
His hips pushed into the fabric beneath him. Shamelessly grinding into the couch, too worked up by the way your juices and his saliva intertwined as they dripped between your thighs.
He was so focused on the task at hand that he almost didn’t feel you pulling at his shirt collar, fingers desperately grasping at the material in an effort to pull him up— to feel his chest against yours as he pushed his length into you as deep as he could. Fucking you relentlessly and making you cry out every time his cock threatened to kiss your cervix.
“Need it so bad, Mikey please.” Your pathetic little mewl finally caused him to come up for air. As much as he wanted to keep going, he couldn’t deny you any longer, and after all, he did love to hear you beg.
“What d’ya need baby?” His lips were back on your stomach, kissing and lingering on your skin, still hungry for your taste.
“Need you to fuck me Mikey, c’mon.”
Your hands were still tugging on his shirt, while his tightened around your thighs.
“Please.” The whine squeaked past your lips as your fingers continued yanking on the cotton at his shoulders.
“Only cause you asked all sweet like that.” He purred looking up at you, the cadence of his voice was angelic and smooth despite his heavy grip on your thighs.
His body hung above yours, his shaky breath warm against your face as he lined himself up at your entrance. He was still teasing, running his tip through the mess pooling at your opening and rubbing it against your clit, listening carefully to the needy little gasps rolling off your tongue.
Your hands fell to his lower back, pushing up his t-shirt enough to lightly scrape your nails against his skin, ushering his body down into yours in a desperate attempt to feel him push into you— even just an inch.
He obliged. His length easing into you nice and slow, stretching you out in a way that had your eyelids fluttering shut.
You felt his forehead rest on yours, a deep sigh falling from his lips as he found solace in the way you hugged him in just right.
“Mmm baby you feel s’good.” His voice was so soft you could barely hear it, even with his lips so close to yours. You’d been waiting for this side of Michael all night. The part of him that became a blubbering, groaning mess, drunk on the feeling of your velvet pussy wrapped around him like a petty little bow.
He pushed in deep, letting his dick bury all the way inside, before stopping for a few seconds just to feel the way your walls squeezed around him, like they were begging for more.
Both of you were already so sensitive, so wound up, so close. When he started moving you couldn’t help the hums of encouragement rising from your chest, “Yes Mikey- fuck. That’s it. Right there.”
Your hushed praises made him pick up the pace, pulling out of you completely before thrusting back in, hitting a spot each time that made your back arch and your eyes water.
He kept going, driving into you with the carefully measured movement of his hips. He knew you were close; your body tensing and nails digging hard into the skin of his back.
The crude hymns that had just been spewing from your lips were growing almost inaudible.
Almost.
But Michael could still hear it. Your quiet little whimpers, “Fuck baby- so good.” Your body was almost rigid, jaw slack and eyebrows pulled together as you grasped at his back.
“You’re so- so good Mikey.” Each word billowed up to Michael with his forehead still pressed against yours. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his hips to keep himself from spilling into you. Your needy whines of admiration sending him spiraling toward release.
“So good to me.”
“So perfect.”
Engulfing your words in a long drawn out moan, your voice was a melody of satisfaction. Little noises of pleasure melted against Michael’s ears as you pulsed around him— coming undone through each languid stroke of his hips.
He lost it then; the sounds you were making, the tight grip of your pussy sucking him in, the sticky ring of you at his base building with every pump— it was almost too much.
He didn’t even ask if it was okay— didn’t even give you a warning before he let himself go, every last drop of his release nestling deep between your thighs. A broken whimper dying in his throat as he emptied into you.
With your foreheads still pressed together and your chests heaving, Michael thought about apologizing, wracking his brain for the right thing to say after coming in you without warning. He knew better.
He should feel ashamed for doing something so wrong— so risky. But instead of shame he felt a strange sense of pride, like he wanted to do it again and again.
With his dick still twitching, he pulled out, angling his head to watch where his spend leaked out between your bodies— seeping from your swollen folds.
“You should probably get something to clean that up.” Your voice broke into his mind, timid and sweet.
When he looked up, he was met with a wild smile, your lips curling with amusement as you watched him staring at the mess he’d made between your legs: a mess that was now dripping onto his living room couch.
“Mhmm.” His hum of agreement sounded distant as he fought not to look back down at the remnants of his release dribbling from your center. His weight rolled off of you; his body on a mission to find a towel, but his mind buzzing with a plan to have you full of him again before the end of the night.
Mature! Michael who takes pictures of you with his camera any chance he gets. How could he not when you look like a goddess. Whenever you tell him to stop he says fine, while secretly still taking more pictures of you.
Mature! Michael who turns into a magnet whenever you’re around him swear that man can never take his hands off of you. Once he gets a hold of you he can never let go and when you try to get out of his hold he starts whining.
Mature! Michael who would do anything you ask him to do. No matter big or small, he’ll do it in a heartbeat. After all, you're his number one priority and would hate to see you unhappy.
Mature! Michael who still very much gets shy when you’re watching him rehearse in the studio causing him to mess up more than usual, which only makes things worse for him.
Mature! Michael who is quick to mention you in every speech he makes. “I’d like to firstly, thank my wonderful partner y/n for always being there for me no matter what even when we have obstacles in the way you always find a way to go around them. I love you very much, baby” As he blows you a kiss.
Mature! Michael who is gentle with you, if you were to get hurt in any way he’d instantly handle you with care and love to ease your pain, which obviously works.
Mature! Michael who would remember every small detail you tell him about yourself and will bring them up randomly making you baffled. “I told you that ages ago, how do you still remember that?.”
Mature! Michael who is extremely overprotective when it comes to you especially, when paparazzi are being aggressive towards you. He’d have his hand on your lower back as he tells his security to block the paparazzi out of your sight.
Mature! Michael who spoils you rotten. He loves seeing how happy you get anytime he pampers you. Seeing you ecstatic makes him happier than ever.
NSFW
Mature! Michael who loves making eye contact with you whenever you guys are doing it, making everything feel more intimate just the way he likes it. When you try to close your eyes or look away when the eye contact gets too intense he quickly grabs your jaw. “Look at me, ma.”
Mature! Michael who lowkey loves being called daddy. When you first called him daddy he couldn’t help, but hide his face with his right hand as he tried to cover his growing bulge with his left.
Mature! Michael who definitely loves eating you out any chance he gets. Hearing your moans and whimpers as he devours your cookie like never before only turns him on even more.
Mature! Michael who enjoys calling you “good girl,” anytime you obey his orders. As a reward he shoves both his pointer and middle finger in your mouth leaving you to want more than just his fingers to be stuffed in your mouth.
Mature! Michael who always grabs or slaps your ass whenever you bend over in front of him. He doesn't have any sort of self control whatsoever, but later on apologizes for his actions making you laugh, knowing he was going to do it again anyway.
Mature! Michael who takes things slow with you in the bedroom, to make sure you’re not feeling any type of discomfort. “You feel alright, lovey? I can stop right now if you want me to.”
Mature! Michael who dislikes doggy style because he’s not able to see your beautiful face, while also admiring your titties bouncing every time he pushes himself in and out of you.
Mature! Michael who praises you every time in the bedroom. “You taste so good, baby. I could eat you for hours and never get tired.” He finds pride in knowing he satisfied you properly through his words and actions.
Mature! Michael who whimpers a whole lot whenever he’s thrusting into you especially, when he’s about to cum. “Ugh..hmm..ma I’m about to,” he warns you with a high pitched groan that leaves your legs shaking.
a/n) @brainstormbby i saw your community post & thought.. "i have a concept like that in my drafts" SOO i worked on it.. though releasing it kinda late
𝖳𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖧𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌
Warnings: smut, hand kink, friends to fwb, mdom, slightly cocky michael?, mutual pining, slightly proofread
wc: 2000+
Michael was an extremely expressive person. You would often prod and tease him, saying he couldn't hide his emotions if his life counted on it. His eyes— wide and expressive—told a story, lighting up when he was ecstatic as they were right now. Being his best friend of ten years: you'd seen it all. His growth into adulthood as a star, the loneliness that came from within, gnawing at his soul from the lack of a true partner—one without ill intent.
And now, lying in the patches of grass in a bright meadow that you two had mysteriously found on a random Sunday, he spoke with true enthusiasm recalling a moment of the past (somewhere he tried not to dwell) where he and his brothers had gone on a mini adventure in the hot Summer heat of Encino.
"And Marlon," Michael laughed, sweet and melodic, the punchline seemingly too hilarious for him to get out without being humoured. You laughed with him, his laugh addictive and easy to get lost in. These moments were rare- sure he always made time to see you, but he was constantly busy.
A workaholic and a perfectionist, a dangerous combination.
Ironically, this was a stolen moment, during a break between press promotion for "Bad" and a studio session. He insisted on seeing you, convincing Frank it would be quick.
Well it was quick, two hours quick.
Michael continued, knocking you from your brief thoughts. "His crazy self being the smooth-talker he is decided to bribe the store owner to let us out back! There was a mob formin' outside and we did not want to be in the midst! The owner shook her head and laughed and just let us out back without taking our money. We were so grateful."
You nod, eyes dropping from his mouth towards his hands and back up again. His words never faltered, now ranting about some girl that made it past their security at the time. Whatever he said went in one ear and out the other, his wild gesturing being the main focus of your attention. When you first arrived at the sprawling meadow you sprinted around, chased each other, simply had fun. You always seemed to bring out the big kid in him. But as the minutes ticked by, you two decided to lay on the bright green grass, mirroring each other with your hands behind your head, relaxing.
Now Michael who sat up partially, had one hand on his knee lifting ever so often to exclaim his words or motion something out. His other hand braced behind him, supporting his weight as he leaned back, unintentially flexing his fingers and grasping the itchy green threads of land.
You still laid though now shifted in position, one hand behind your head as you faced him laying on your side, funnily looking like his Thriller album cover.
His security stood a great distance away yet still present—far enough where they couldn't hear Michael's conversation, something he'd requested of them before, but close enough to secure the perimeter, ensuring he stayed protected through and through.
He stood quickly, agility his speciality, and raised his hand again, you completely tuned everything out. He was mimicking on of his rehearsal performances, his middle and ring finger flicking quickly as he rolled his hips in a rhythmic motion, pelvis bucking to an imaginary beat. Your eyes widening before you could stop it, a wave of heat rushing over your skin. It wasn't the summer sun, and that was for sure.
It was him. A striking feeling you'd felt before, but never with him.
Your mind drifted and you couldn't help but wonder what those fingers looked like doing those exact same motions but inside of you. Pumping in and out until you were breathless, needy, until you needed more. Until his fingers weren't enough. His other hand gripping your thigh, grounding you, his own arousal growing stiff within the confines of his trousers.
He didn't seem to notice at first, plopping down next to you, and instantly transforming into your best friend again.
That was until his eyes met yours, eyes running over your face in the observant way only he could. Then he exhaled, a knowing glint in his eyes.
"Did you hear me?" Michael tilted his head, amusement playing on his lips.
"Uh-yeah." You nod, your body language betraying your words. You shifted slightly, scooting a half inch apart. When he sat down he'd gotten so close, you could feel his breath on your skin, coming out in small breathless spurts from his mock performance.
Michael ignores this, shifting as well and keeping the distance between you two minimal. "What did I say then?"
His voice drops slightly as he continued. "Tell me."
He watches you stammer again, trying to find your words, lip catching between his teeth biting his bottom lip in a way he knew drove the girls crazy.
You swallow. "Another Part of Me."
"What about it?" Michael challenges, head still slightly tilted as he questioned you, who currently was reaching over to his aviators on the grass fiddling with the temples.
You sigh, almost scared to meet his eyes. He could always read you, always knew what you were thinking. That thought terrified you. Overcome with the sudden realization of your attraction to him and those fucking fingers, you didnt know whether to admit you weren't listening or make up a lie from the bits and pieces of what you had heard him say.
You chose the former.
"I don't know, man, is this an interview or somethin'? " You nudge him, trying to break the charged atmosphere.
Your attempt was futile.
If anything this sprawled him on, his eyes following your lingering gaze which had now dropped to his hands again.
"Y/N," He called out, his thumb hooking under your chin to lift your gaze. "Talk to me, pretty girl." He murmured.
He'd always called you pretty.
You'd always called him handsome.
This wasn't anything new. You two were friends for a decade, of course a few compliments here and there never hurt. But this—this was different, heavy with the weight of the moment and unspoken tension. Your earlier thoughts had left your underwear damp, cunt tingling in anticipation of something you weren't even sure was going to happen yet.
"You like 'em?" Michael speaks up, his hand moving to rest carefully on your knee fingers flexing.
"Like what?" You ask, looking up at Michael through your lashes.
"Don't play naïve. I know you. My hands." His thumb begins to slowly move, rubbing the skin of your knee- slightly scarred from childhood affairs.
"What are you gettin' at Michael?" You ask, your voice taking on a defensive edge, though once again your body betrayed you, leaning slightly into Michael's touch.
"I'm inferring that you want to feel my fingers. I know that look. Didn't we have a talk about somethin' like this before? Kinks?" He asks, though he knew the answer.
The more you thought about it, this wasn't the first time you'd felt like this before. Not in his presence.
One late evening, you two were on the phone, debriefing your days of work well past one-o-clock.
Talking about your days wasn't all you had done though.
Somehow the conversation had transitioned into lighter topics; new hobbies, interests, and lovers. You had a new boyfriend at the time and he hadn't been satisfying you like he could be. Michael, per usual, wanted the details, eager to have a good ki-ki with his best friend. He didnt prod though, allowing you to tell the story on your own terms.
As you spoke, Michael let out a few laughs (where appropriate), and a few hums and nods of agreeance. He then asked an unexpected question.
"What do you think he could've done to make you feel good? You seem to like specific things.. what are you into?"
The question seemed to surprise himself, his face flushing as he turned from the camera hands covering his face. "Only if you want to tell me.."
You explained and he nodded, listening. When he told you back, you seemed surprised, but also nodded. The call concluded in a symphony of soft whimpers, the topic of such a lewd thing leaving you both aroused and touching your own bodies. Michael whispered sweet nothings, voice husky in a tone you'd never heard before.
It was as if the moment hadn't existed, pushed towards the back of your mind. You'd forgotten it up until this very moment. Maybe it was because when you and Michael saw each other again in person he'd didnt bring it up, nor did you.
So you labeled the interaction as a dream. A false moment that never occurred.
Now with him staring at you with this intensity, this lust, you didnt know what to expect. There were no phones between you this time.
"You're right.." You finally respond, voice quiet and retreating almost shy. "I do want to feel them.."
The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk.
"Good.." His hands slid to the waistband of your shorts, already moving to unfasten the silver button, and pull your shorts down just enough. He caught sight of his watch. He still had his studio session.
"We're running out of time.." Michael murmured. "I don't wanna rush with you, but—" His breath caught, words dying in his throat.
"You soaked through your panties." Michael stated, eyebrow popping slightly as he rub his fingers carefully over your still clothed slit. "I won't make you wait. I have a feeling this won't take long."
Without any other hesitation, he snakes his hand into your underwear, finger slipping into your warmth with ease. Your back arches into the sensation, hips rocking against his slender finger. You moaned, looking down at where his finger pumped inside of you, he looked just like you imagined but better. Before long, he placed another finger inside, hands veiny and precise.
Long brown digits, slick with your want.
While you watched his fingers, he watched you, eyes glued to your expression cataloguing every spot that made you moan with pleasure. Finally, you look up to him, his brows furrowing in concentration, lip tucked between his teeth. But most of all, the way his jaw moved as if he wanted to use his mouth too but was scared to push you past your limits.
Your thoughts were overshadowed as you felt his finger circle your clit, hips now bucking enthusiastically against the pressure. "Fuck." You curse, the only word you could force out through your array of noises. You're hit with no warning as your orgasm crashes over you, hips still moving slightly against his fingers while you ride out your high, only now realizing you'd been gripping his arm.
He leans in, breath grazing your ear. "I think you could've taken another one." Michael wiggles a third finger before pulling back with a small chuckle.
You shake your head. "You're a teas-"
You barely get your words out before Michael's sucking his fingers clean, savoring the taste as if you were the best thing he's tasted all week. You shudder.
That was so hot.
Well, duh.
He was so hot.
Michael looks back to you, expression of faux innocence. "What? I can't clean my hand?"
Your lip twitches before you both laugh. "Proving my point, you tease."
Michael's gaze softens as your laughter dies down, pulling you close and helping you pull your shorts back up. "So are we gonna have the 'what are we' talk now or later?" His voice was tinged with vulnerability, an unmistakable sound you'd heard from him on various occasions.
"We're friends.. friends who help each other."
Michaels gaze falls, grabbing his aviators to pull them back on and shield his disappointment. You catch his hand, shaking your head and taking the glasses from him. "Hey, look at me."
Relucatantly, he does.
"You're a busy man, Michael. I like where we are right now. Progressing could leave us in a bad position. And right now I'm just not ready for a relationship, but that can always change in the future. I don't want to pretend I am ready either, then I'd hurt you. That's something I'd never want to do. Okay?" You explain, hands resting on both sides of his face.
He nods slowly, holding your gaze. "I understand." He slowly stands, taking your hand and helping you stand too. "We have benefits, we won't really put too many labels on it. I need to get to my session, and you should get home." A small genuine smile finds his lips. "But I want you to know I appreicate your honesty."
His voice lowers, hopeful. "Call you tommorow?"
"Always," You smile back, watching as he drifting back towards his security now turning in the direction of your own car. You smooth over your clothes and hair.
Once Michael was out of your line of sight you begin jumping up and down, silently screaming.
Your bestfriend of a decade just touched you and it wasnt a dream.
mmmmmm giving head to mature!michael under his desk while he’s on an important phone call. every time you softly graze your teeth against the underside he has to clear his throat, and prop the phone between his cheek and shoulder so he can grab your head with his large hands to either pull you off or take his whole cock in your mouth.
I just wanted to read some MJ fics, but I come online to draaama about AI??
Now, it ain't really my business, but AI is a hard trigger for me. You see, this is why I can't believe AI accusations unless they come with hard proof.
AI didn't just come into existence knowing how to write. It's trained to follow human writing. It's fed writing so that it learns to how sound more human, and by doing that, it learns from a variety of writers. It's one reason why so many writers on Ao3 made their shit private after that whole feeding fanfiction into AI shit happened.
One thing I noticed, being a writer and an academic, is that certain styles of writing, like em-dashes, the use of polished words and phrases, are common. More common than you'd think. My writing has been changed because of my academic background. I spent 5 years polishing my words, learning how to say things with more nuance than I previously had, but at the heart, my writing is my own.
For me, how my writing sounds depends on what I'm writing and the feel I'm going for. If I want something that doesn't sound like my normal writing, I'm hitting up a thesaurus. Now I'm not saying everyone does this, but I've talked to writers who were accused of using AI, and really, all they used was a thesaurus.
So it's just really weird for someone to post that based on "vibes" alone. I mean, hell, I put in some fanfiction of mine from 2016 into an AI detector, and it said 62% was AI...again, it's from 2016, like a year after OpenAI was founded and ChatGPT wasn't even a thing. Let's be for real now and not to be rude, but if AI can't tell the difference, what makes you think anyone is going to believe you can??
So really, unless you have hard proof, I just think you should block whoever you think wrote with AI instead of "blasting them" online to generate chaos and attention.
˙⋆✮ Calling Thriller era!Michael a good boy…18+ mdni
Sinking down onto his cock only to hear the little whimpers and whines that slip past his lips. The tips of his fingers burning into your hips, aching to pull you down onto him. Your hips move painfully slow— up and down— and his fingers twitch as they press harder against your skin, his hold growing stronger with each hug of your warm wet walls inviting him deeper. You watch as he tries to maintain his composure, doing his best to let you take the reins and use him for your pleasure. “Such a good boy Mikey.” The praise purrs from your lips as you guide your hips over his. A strangled groan rips from his chest the second the words leave your mouth, and his grip tightens. He holds your hips still, fucking up into you with a force that makes you reach for the headboard, determined to show you how good of a boy he can really be.
Hey! Love your work! Could you write something along the lines of Michael being protective of the reader? Maybe an interviewer insults her or a paparazzi gets too close? They’re in an established relationship too! ❤️
▹ off script
michael jackson x model!reader
synopsis: an interviewer tries to disrespect you, and michael’s finally had enough
warnings: any era michael, slight angst if u squint, protective michael
wc: 2k
In the late 1980s, high fashion was an exclusive, heavily gatekept world, but you had completely conquered it. As a prominent Black supermodel, you were making history, gracing the runways of Milan, Paris, and New York. You were used to the flashing lights of the runway and the intense stares of a crowd. You built your career on flawless poise and an untouchable attitude.
But nothing could have prepared you for the sheer madness that was Michael Jackson.
He had first seen you on a massive billboard in Times Square, your skin radiant against a stark white backdrop, looking like absolute royalty. Captivated, he pulled every string he could to ensure you were invited to an exclusive industry gala a few weeks later. When you two finally met, the attraction was instant. Behind the massive fame, you found a man who was gentle, incredibly sweet, and deeply attentive.
Because your schedules were both so demanding, the early days of your relationship were built on secret, late-night phone calls that lasted until the sun came up. He would call you from studio lounges in Los Angeles while mixing tracks, his soft voice filled with wonder as he asked you about the creative process behind a runway show or what it felt like to be the muse for Europe's top designers. In turn, you listened to him hum early demos over the receiver.
When you did get time together, it was a beautiful collision of your two worlds. You showed him a different kind of artistry—taking him to private, underground fashion galleries in Soho where he could marvel at the clothing designs without being swarmed, his dark eyes wide with that childlike curiosity he always possessed. And he showed you what it meant to be wholly, completely taken care of. He would have quiet, candlelit dinners set up in the privacy of his estate, completely bypassing the busy restaurants he could never step foot in. Despite being the biggest star on the planet, he was incredibly domestic with you; he loved just sitting on the floor with his head resting against your knee while you played with his hair, talking about everything and nothing at all.
He fell hard, and he fell fast. He loved your independence and the fierce, unshakeable confidence you carried yourself with. You became his anchor during a time when his fame was reaching an astronomical, almost terrifying new peak. To the world, he was transforming into this sharp, larger-than-life figure, but in the quiet spaces between your busy modeling schedules, he was just Michael—completely yours.
The media, however, went into an absolute frenzy the moment the relationship became public...
The tabloids couldn't handle a you dominating the high-fashion runways and holding the heart of the biggest artist on earth. They wanted to pick you apart, to find a crack in that flawless, royal exterior you wore like armor.
The boiling point came during a major network television interview. The host was a notorious, slick-talking journalist known for pulling hidden agendas out of celebrities. Michael had initially agreed to the joint interview under the condition that it would focus on his music and your historic fashion milestones.
Sitting on the sleek studio couch, Michael laid back, one hand rested on the back of the couch—clad in black leather, silver buckles catching the studio lights, his curls framing a soft, polite smile. You sat right beside him, your posture impeccable, exuding effortless poise. For the first twenty minutes, Michael answered questions with his trademark gentle, soft-spoken grace, whispering quiet, humble answers and letting out his soft, boyish laugh.
Then, the interviewer shifted his weight, a sharp, calculated smile crossing his face as he turned his attention entirely to you.
"Now, let's talk about the romance that's captured the world," the host said, his tone dripping with a faux-politeness that immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. "There are a lot of critics out there who look at your background, coming from a completely different industry, and they wonder... is this relationship just a highly strategic career move? Some are saying you're using Michael's fame to secure your spot in a world that usually closes its doors to women who look like you."
The studio audience gasped softly. The question was a blatant, disrespectful insult wrapped in a journalistic bow—a direct attack on your worth and your integrity.
You kept your chin up, your armor locking into place, your expression turning to ice as you prepared a calm, cutting response. But before a single word could leave your lips, the entire atmosphere on the set shifted.
The air became dead silent, heavy and incredibly dangerous.
Michael’s hand, which had been resting casually on his knee, suddenly came down over yours. His grip was firm, an iron force that subtly told you 'I've got it.' The soft-spoken, gentle man who had been smiling just seconds ago completely vanished. In his place sat someone entirely different.
Michael didn't look at the audience, and he didn't wait for a commercial break. He turned his head slowly toward the interviewer. He didn't yell, he never did, but when he spoke, his voice dropped into a low, gravelly register—icy, sharp, and dripping with an absolute venom that shocked everyone in the room.
“You’re not gonna’ sit here and disrespect my woman on national television," Michael commanded. The trademark softness was gone, replaced by a dangerous, terrifying edge. His brown eyes, usually so warm and inviting, were completely black with rage.
The interviewer blinked, his slick smile instantly evaporating as he was caught entirely off guard by the sudden hostility from a pop star known for his passivity. "Mr.Jackson, it's just a question about the public perception—"
“I don't give a damn about public perception," Michael snapped, cutting him off with a ruthless authority that made the camera operators freeze. He leaned forward slightly, his jaw clenched tight, the buckles on his jacket rattling slightly with the sheer tension in his frame. "She didn't need my name to make history, she doesn't need your validation, and she sure as hell doesn’t need you talkin’ out the side of your neck when it comes to her. She’s royalty, and you’re gonna’ treat her like she is.”
The host swallowed hard, sweating under his collar, completely paralyzed by the venom in Michael's delivery.
“We're done here," Michael said coldly. He stood up, completely disregarding the live cameras. Without giving the production crew another second to breathe, he took your hand in his, pulling you tightly against his side.
He guided you off the stage, shielding your body with his own as his security team instantly swarmed around you both, leaving the interviewer sitting in stunned, humiliated silence on his own set.
The moment you both broke through the backstage doors and entered the quiet, private sanctuary of his dressing room, the tension didn't immediately leave his shoulders. Michael slammed the heavy door shut, locking out the frantic producers. He was breathing heavily, his chest heaving, his eyes still wild as he immediately turned to you. Both of his hands came up to gently cup your face, his thumbs wiping at your cheekbones.
"Look at me, baby. Are you okay?" he asked, his voice still carrying that rough, breathless edge, completely dropping the polite persona for the only person who actually mattered. "I am so sorry. I won't ever let anyone talk to you like that again. I mean it."
You looked up at him, your chest rising and falling as the adrenaline finally began to settle.
When that interviewer had first opened his fat mouth, a hot, defensive anger had surged right through your veins. You were an international supermodel, God damnit; you had clawed your way to the top of an industry that looked for any excuse to reject you. To have some slick, ugly, passive-aggressive host imply you were just a strategic plus-one on national television had made you want to tear him apart with more than your bare words.
But watching Michael completely take the reins? Watching him shatter his own boundaries, step entirely out of his ultra-polite comfort zone, and absolutely command that room?
It did something to you.
The anger you felt toward the interviewer completely melted away, replaced by a sudden, heavy warmth pooling in your stomach. You had never seen Michael like this. You were used to the gentle man who let you play with his hair, the sweet genius who hummed melodies in your ear. But this raw, fiercely protective, dangerous edge? The low, gravelly register of his voice when he said 'my woman'?
It was, without a doubt, the sexiest thing you had ever witnessed.
A slow, knowing smile finally broke through your icy supermodel mask. You didn't look shaken at all. Instead, your eyes swept down the length of him—taking in the tight black leather, the silver buckles still rattling slightly from his heavy breathing, and the sheer power radiating off him.
“Honey," you murmured, your voice dropping into a smooth, sultry purr. You placed your hands over his chest, feeling the frantic, rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath the fabric. "Calm down. I'm fine."
Michael blinked, caught off guard by your lack of distress. He searched your face, his dark eyes still wide and intense. "Are you sure? He was so disrespectful to you. I shouldn’t have—“
“I know what he was," you interrupted gently, stepping closer until there was no space left between you, forcing him to look down at you. "But not gonna’ lie? Watching you handle ‘em like that..." You leaned in, your lips brushing against his jawline as you whispered, "Ain’t know you had that in you, baby. It was sexy."
Michael froze, his breath hitching in his throat. The fierce, protective scowl on his face instantly faltered, replaced by a sudden, burning heat in his gaze as your words registered. A dark, breathless smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled your hips flush against his.
"You liked that?" he murmured, his voice still carrying a bit of that low grit. He leaned down, his eyes locking onto yours with a newfound, playful confidence.
"Mmhmm," you hummed, your hands sliding up the smooth leather of his jacket to rest around his neck. "I loved that.”
Seeing him like this perfect, intoxicating mix of the dangerous superstar the world was just getting to know and the intensely protective man who belonged only to you had your heart racing for an entirely different reason now.
But as you looked into his eyes, you could see the last lingering traces of that protective anger fading, replaced by that familiar, melting warmth you knew so well. It was time to bring him all the way back down to earth.
You softened your posture, leaning your forehead gently against his chin. "But really... thank you for taking up for me though, Mikey. I love you."
The moment the nickname left your lips, the last of his tough-guy facade completely crumbled. Michael let out a soft, breathless laugh—that beautiful, high-pitched giggle that always made your heart swell. The heavy, intense atmosphere in the dressing room evaporated, replaced by a sweet, comfortable warmth.
“I love you too, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice returning to its usual gentle, melodic cadence. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he hugged you close. "I just... I hate it when people try to diminish you. You work so hard, and you're so smart and gorgeous—I wasn't gonna’ let him sit there and try to make you feel small."
"I know," you smiled, running your fingers through the soft curls at the nape of his neck. "And believe me, he didn't make me feel small. Especially not after you shut ‘em down. I think you might’ve terrified that man."
Michael pulled back just enough to look at you, a proud, boyish grin lighting up his face. His eyes danced with mischief. "Good. Maybe next time he'll remember some manners."
He leaned down and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to your lips, completely erasing the chaotic memory from before. "Now, c’mon. Let's get outta’ here before the producers try to apologize. I’m already bummed.”
Synopsis: Michael is pretty bad about staying quiet during sex but you find out he likes the idea of exhibitionism so you challenge him to stay quiet.
My first smut I'm posting ahhhhh I'm nervous. Lmk what yall think.
This does not include actual exhibitionism, just roleplay exhibitionism. Subby Michael because we need more subby Michael in this world.
Sometimes you wonder how you got so lucky to have someone like Michael Jackson as your boyfriend.
It had happened unexpectedly.
You were super passionate about film ever since a kid so you studied it, going to college for it and you eventually landed a job with a company that filmed commercials, promotions and some music videos.
It was exciting and thrilling, getting to do what you loved every day.
Somehow it led to you meeting Michael Jackson for a promotional video he was doing.
You had always been a fan so when you were told, you were practically shaking the day of, nervous to be in his presence.
But he ended up being so kind and lovely to everyone there, making sure the crew was taken care of.
He ended up talking to you about cameras and filming as he also had a passion for filming, one day wanting to become a film director.
You ended up exchanging numbers after that and somehow one thing led to another, flirting and attractions grew, eventually leading to a relationship.
It was now a year later and your relationship was going strong, emotionally and sexually. You loved learning about this amazing human, learning about things that he never showed the media.
One of the things though that had suprised and delighted you to discover was that Michael Jackson couldn't be quiet during sex for the life of him.
It was all whimpers and moans, curses and whining out your name.
It delighted you though, having that confirmation that you were giving him pleasure.
There was one night during sex that you had teased him about it.
"You're so noisy baby." You teased softly as he moaned underneath you. "We could never have sex anywhere even remotely public. Everyone would know what we were doing."
He had blushed but his moans became louder, his breathing going heavier and you felt his body tense under you, him mumbling a curse as he came.
Your eyes widened in surprise. You knew he had been starting to get close but he definetly hadn't been that close.
Smirking, you said. "Hmmm seems like someone likes the idea of that."
He didn't reply, still panting and making noises underneath you as he rode out his orgasm.
The two of you talked later that night after you had showered. You were cuddled together, one leg tangled with his and your head on his shoulder as you traced patterns on his bare skin, following the blotchy parts of his skin.
He was blushing slightly as he talked. "I-i don't know.... the idea is just kinda hot. Trying to stay quiet. That someone could discover what we were doing." He was resolutely looking at the wall, avoiding your gaze.
You looked up at him. "Well personally I am down for trying it. I think it'll be hot seeing you try to be quiet." You chuckled but then grew a bit more serious. "But it's only if you want to and how we would go about it."
He sighed. "Yeah I don't really know... It's not like I could ever actually do anything in public. I literally cannot risk being caught." He bit his lip.
You contemplated for a moment. "Well we could always do some roleplay instead?"
His brow furrowed and he looked doubtful. "Roleplay? Wouldn't that be kinda.... I don't know... silly?"
You chuckled a little. "Maybe but also just imagine." You roamed your eyes to the vanity in the corner of the room. "We could have you sit there, pretend we're in a dressing room." You roamed your eyes to the bedroom door. "That your security is standing outside and that at any moment someone could walk in. So you need to be quiet so we don't get caught." You leaned foward, whispering the last part in his ear.
He shivered, his breath catching and you saw his throat bob as he swallowed heavily.
You smirked. "Doesn't seem so silly now huh?" You playfully nipped his ear and he made a sound.
"No." His voice was heated.
You giggled. "Looks like we might need a second round tonight hmm? Once wasn't enough for you?"
Hs rolled his eyes. "You're the one talking dirty to me."
"Yeah because you like it." You smiled.
He just sighed and rolled his eyes. "I'm dating a menace."
"A menace that you love and who is gonna help your fantasies come to life."
He just sighed and rolled his eyes but he was smiling and he kissed you to shut you up.
It was a few days later and you were officially trying out roleplaying.
Michael was dressed in one of his suits that he didn't really wear anymore but still looked immaculate in and he styled his hair.
Originally he wasn't going to, not seeing the point but you had convinced him to. Mainly so you could see that perfect image get ruined though you told him it would make the roleplay feel more realistic.
He was now sitting at the vanity, fiddling with random things and you smiled as you watched him before finally getting up and walked over.
"Ready for your shoot today babe?" You asked. It was decided you guys would pretend he had a photoshoot that day and that you were in the dressing room before the shoot.
He turned to you, still looking shy and giggling a little, not used to doing something like this. "Yeah. It'll be easy."
You giggled. "Yeah I'm sure it will be for the king of pop." You sit down on his lap, making yourself comfortable and you look at him.
"You look so pretty today angelface." You admire his features and he blushes a little, averting your gaze.
"Oh don't be shy now." You gently direct his chin back so he can look at you and then you lean foward, giving him a heated kiss.
He makes a soft noise, eagerly kissing back. His hands rest on your waist.
You make out for a bit before you pull back, starting to press kisses to his neck. "My pretty boy." You praise.
He breaths out shakily. "Babe. Don't start something we can't finish."
You smirk against his neck, still kissing it. "Whatever do you mean? I'm just giving my pretty boy some kisses. Giving him the love he deserves."
His eyes close, and you see him swallow heavily but he doesn't say anything.
Still smirking you start to give him a hickey and he lets out another noise.
"B-babe, really, you need to stop." His voice is shaky.
"Why? What's the matter?" You ask teasingly then you purposefully look down, at where his hard on is straining against his suit pants.
"Ah is that the problem?" You move your leg so it pushes against his hard on and he lets out a soft moan but quickly bites his lip, looking at the door.
"We can't. We really can't. My bodyguards are out there." He looks at you with wide eyes but his eyes are heated.
"Hmmm I don't know babe. Will you even be able to calm down in time?" You tease, pressing against his hard on again and he breaths out shakily.
He doesn't reply and you smile, running a hand through his hand. "I don't think you'll be able to. I think you need to be taken care of, don't you?"
He still looks nervous. "I can't be caught babe."
"I know. That's why you're gonna have to be a good boy and be quiet." You start nipping at his ear. "Can't have them know how needy you are can we? That you got hard just from kissing me."
He hides his face a little by looking down, letting out another noise.
You gently grab his chin, making you look at him and you admire the flush of his cheeks, the heat and embarrassment in his eyes.
"Will you be a good boy and be quiet?"
He blushes even more but nods and you smirk.
"Good."
You go back to kissing him and you start slipping off his suit jacket. He helps you, moving to make it easier for you.
You run your hands over his chest, teasingly running your fingers close his nipples but not actually touching. He lets out a quiet whine.
Eventually you start to unbutton his shirt, not taking it off but leaving it open and you run a finger over his nipple. He lets out a moan, quieted by your kiss.
Pulling back, you give him a look. "If you're already gonna be this noisy we're gonna be caught right away."
His breath catches and he looks at the door again. "S-sorry." He mumbles.
"Just make sure we don't get caught." You smirk at him then start playing with his nipples again.
He bites his lip, closing his eyes. He's still letting out noises but he's doing better than you expected.
After a bit of playing with his nipples you let your hand wander down his stomach, going to the waistband of his suit pants and his breath catches slightly in anticipation.
You slowly unbutton his pants, pulling out his hard on. You gently run your hands over and he moans softly, still biting his lip.
You start to fully stroke him, making sure to give attention to the sensitive head as you want to see him break.
He lets out a whine, jerking a bit in your grip.
"Baby." You say sharply. "You're being too loud."
He looks at you with wide heated eyes and nods.
You go back to stroking him, speeding up. You watch as he puts his hand up to his mouth, biting on a finger as he moans, doing his best to stay quiet.
"You're not doing very well." You tease as you stroke him. "Maybe I need to try putting my hand over your mouth to shut you up."
His breath catches and his hard on jerks in your hand. He obviously likes that idea.
"Hmm seems like that's what we need to do." You move his hand from his mouth and put yours over it.
It's really hot, feeling his warm breath against your hand as he moans and whines underneath you, muffled by your hand.
His eyes are closed, head tilted back and his hips are jerking into your grip.
You stroke him faster, doing all the things you know make him come fast.
"Fuck babe fuck. I'm close." You can hear him say muffled behind your hand.
"Come for me." You whisper.
He tenses and comes, spilling into your hand and a bit onto his suit pants. He's still moaning and whining.
You stroke him through his orgasm, not stopping till he whines from overstimualtion, moving your hand away with his.
He relaxes against the chair, still catching his breath and his cheeks still flushed.
"Well safe to say it's good we didn't actually do this in public." You tease and he groans, hiding his face.
"My noisy boy. It's okay though cause I love it." You kiss him.
Thank you for reading! My fic suggestions are open and my masterlist is here!
Yall have got to stop putting Jaafar’s fics under Michael’s tag and vice versa, they are both their own individual people with their own separate fandoms😩(I’m apart of both) it’s a bit of a non issue but we can’t find the good fics if yall tagging them wrong, and yall are some of the most amazing writers I’ve ever seen💔
And also…
Jaafar Jackson is not here to satisfy yall MJ fantasies( not talking about movie based fics) stop asking that man to tour as Michael, some of yall are dead ass not joking and we can tell😪. Imagine how much pressure that is on someone??? and them TW:// Joe Jackson “jokes” are truly not funny especially on tiktok call me sensitive idc.
