belslas

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓂃. ☘︎ ݁˖ come back to me

[rockurwurld]

⤷ ゛ ˎˊ˗ isabella ✶⋆.˚ mdni ⟡ ݁₊ . certified pretty young thing ♡ currently hyperfixated on michael jackson specifically otw to thriller eraa

masterlist

requests are open !!!

beginner writer so any and all tips are appreciated !

[femalekanye]

[prettyangeliczz]

i could list off all the things i find attractive about michael and it will be a long list turned into an essay but my favorite thing about that man is his accent. i LOVEEE his accent, i love his voice, especially his natural deep voice. i love it so much, and you hear his accent so loud and clear in come together. when he says “is you got to be free.” the way he says free. “come togethaaa, right nie” instead of “come together, right now” and how he says “you know me.” LIKE I DO I DO KNOW YOU MICHAEL

[am3sss]

Hello would you mind writing something about mature Micheal and him loving to smack his gf or wife’s ass. Haha he seemed to be into that and it would be a fun story to read. Thank you 🤭

he LOVES slapping back and that’s facts𑣲⋆

summary: mature!michael can’t keep his hands off of his younger wife!reader

⋆˚꩜｡ the small door to the baby pink volkswagen beetle slammed shut behind you, the wide sunglasses pushed up into your hair to keep it out of your face as you opened the trunk of your car.

a creak emitted from the white front door, michael’s head popping out to check if you were home, obviously hearing your car pull up in the huge driveway.

“hi, baby! can you help me grab these bags please”, waving cheerfully, clearly having a dopamine rush from all of the shopping you had just done.

michael hummed, his socked feet pattering down the concrete as he got closer to you, watching you bend over to reach further into the trunk.

standing behind you, waiting for you to pass him the bags of luxury goods you had just acquired, he took in your appearance.

the black juicy couture velour tracksuit hugged you tight, and as you bent over, the jacket rode up, revealing a tiny bit of your lower back.

the gems from the juicy logo stretched tight across your ass, glistening in the los angeles sunlight, making michael lick his lips and grab your waist. his ivory hands gripped you tight and pressed you up against his lower half as you reached for the final bags in the trunk.

“mikey, i can’t reach the bags, you’re pulling me back,” you giggled, clearly amused by his touchiness.

“m’sorry pretty girl, you’re just so irresistible” he hummed, before taking a step back and swinging his hand to meet your backside in a quick slap, watching the flesh jiggle beneath the velour material.

you jumped, quickly turning around and giving him a pointed look. pushing the small bags into his hands, almost giving him a silent instruction to get away from you and take the bags in instead.

michael laughed, a deep, raspy vibration from his chest, head tilting back as he turned on his heel, his dark, fluffy hair bouncing with each step towards the house.

shaking your head, a manicured hand reached above you to grab the trunk before slamming it shut. god, what were you going to do with that man and his hands.

⋆˚꩜｡ on a much needed night off with michael, you were both in the kitchen. the moscato wine glugged as it left the expensive bottle into the tall crystal wine glasses on the marble counter.

the staff had been sent home in, what felt like, a once in a lifetime opportunity to spend some alone time with michael whilst he wasn’t absolutely exhausted from working all day.

you turned towards him, the fabric of your sheer nightdress swishing at your waist as you brought the glass to your lip gloss stained lips, leaving a shiny pink mark on the rim.

michael stared at you as you took a sip, reaching behind you to grab the wine glass whilst his other hand rested on your hip to steady himself.

“so are we watching a movie tonight? i know there’s this really good one that’s just come out, i think you’ll like it” you questioned, wiping the top of your lip.

“mm.. we can if you want, although i had other ideas about how tonight might go…”, his voice lowering more as he spoke, his head dipping to become face to face with you.

“oh? like what, baby?”, tilting your head, knowing exactly what he was referring to but wanting to tease him a little bit.

he placed the glass back onto the counter, both hands now caging you in.

“you know, me and you… upstairs…” he trailed off, eyes flicking over to the grand staircase.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing your lips closer to his, feeling his breath fan across them.

“let’s go then, baby”, a high pitch giggle emitting from you as you swiftly turned, still carrying the wine glass in your hands.

as you turned the corner of the counter, moving towards the staircase, a smack echoed throughout the kitchen.

michael smirked, his hand landing perfectly on the round flesh beneath your flowy dress.

“ouch! oh my gosh, michael.. why do you still catch me off guard when you do that, i should expect it by now..” you groaned, now walking backwards and facing him.

he shrugged, a proud smile painted across his face, before grabbing your hand and dragging you upstairs.

⋆˚꩜｡ the broom swept across the living room floor, the toys being brushed aside so you could reach the biscuit crumbs on the floor.

you had just put your son down for a nap, it being much needed as he had seemed to have so much energy today that by the early afternoon you were absolutely exhausted.

michael had been locked away in his studio all morning, having said that he had an idea, shooting up from bed and running down the hallway into the studio.

your hair fell out of the loose updo you had temporarily placed it in, further adding to the sensory overload you were having.

you stood straight, holding the toys your son had thrown around the room, turning to place them into the toy box. michael stood in the doorway, you had been so focused on cleaning up that you had not heard him walk into the living room.

you jumped slightly, his presence unexpected, before throwing the toys into the toy box and slamming the top shut.

“hey, hey.. what’s the matter, pretty girl” he said, concern lacing his voice, his arms stretched out to grab you.

“i’m just so exhausted, it’s like he wouldn’t just have a moment of downtime. he kept jumping up and running around to grab something he shouldn’t be touching, and he usually isn’t like that so it just stressed me out” you whined, your head falling onto his chest as you leant on him.

his dressing gown clad arms wrapped around your back, his hands sliding further down your back to rest on the curve between your lower back and ass.

“it’s alright, baby, is he asleep now?”

you nodded against his chest, your eyes shutting in a moment of relaxation.

“should we go and sit outside for a second, let you clear your mind. if he wakes up, the chef will definitely hear and let us know” he whispered, his head resting on yours.

his hands moved further down, bringing a few small taps to your butt for comfort and also because he's obsessed with the way it feels in his hands.

michael moved back, his hands still gripping your waist before turning you around, his arm wrapped around you to keep you pressed against him as you walked outside for a moment of peace.

[michaelsbm]

whenever i see videos of mike from “This Is It” rehearsals i start sobbing uncontrollably…

[prettyangeliczz]

michael, say that again for me

[michaeldiary]

off the wall michael accidentally cumming inside you because you both thought you were just so grown and tried the pull out method only to find out he’s terrible at it and you have a nasty habit of locking him in place when he’s obviously showing signs of an orgasm.

there’s no such thing as plan b in the 70’s so you’re reduced to.. “methods” that you’ve only heard through hearsay to prevent pregnancy. like sitting on the toilet to let it all come out. michael is right there with you for moral support.. with black pepper to make you sneeze.

looove loser boy michael and loser girl reader. cuties 😓

[angelfacediary]

˚₊‧꒰ა ✦ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Skin on skin

Pairing: Bad!Michael x reader

Content: Just Michael massaging your feet after a long day

Your feet ached from all the walking and standing around you had done throughout the day. Your heels felt sore and tender as you took another step towards the front door, the urge to take them off before even reaching the door becoming more profound as you let out another quiet wince. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to not catch the attention of Michael as he walked quietly next to you.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” that nurturing tone in his voice taking over as he spoke, his hand making its way to the small of your back as a sense of comfort.

“I’m fine, just these stupid heels.”

“Don’t worry, I got you,” he spoke, analyzing how your feet looked slightly swollen from being compressed in the heel for so long, a frown falling across his face, full concern taking over his once relaxed features.

It didn't take long for you to nearly burst through the front door, your legs nearly giving out from how tired they were, barely making it to the couch before fully collapsing onto the plush cushions with a long sigh, Michael soon following after you.

“I thought I was never gonna make it,” another exhale left your lips, your body fully relaxing and the weight of the day finally melting like butter in a hot pan.

“Put your feet right here,” he tapped at his lap, watching as you crossed your legs over his lap, adjusting yourself until you were comfortable.

Carefully he slipped each shoe off, the sound of the heel clacking against the marble floor filling the emptiness of the house at that moment. His touch was soft, gentle, his large fingers running deliberately up and down your calves eventually stopping back down at your feet.

“Let me massage them for you,” he murmured, pressing his lips against your perfectly manicured toes. No, he didn't have a fetish per se, but he liked to admire them, sure maybe it was weird, but it wasn't like you minded. The feeling of his warm breath against your skin sending a pleasant hum past your lips.

“Mhm, please.”

His fingers worked their way into your skin, soothing the tension from your tired arches, soon focusing on the throbbing pain that your heels were causing you, his eyes making their way to yours that seemed to slowly be drifting off, your body fully relaxing from the release of pressure.

His fingers traced circles into your arches in a rhythmic, soothing pattern that made your eyes grow heavy, a soft sigh falling from your lips.

“Better?” He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You barely managed a nod, your eyelids growing heavier by the second, the weight of the day finally catching up to you.

©angelfacediary

Requests : open

[thetruemia]

you were too busy riding the man beneath you.

michael laid down, head pressed back against the mattress as you straddled him. sweat beads clung to his forehead, sliding down his temples and along his sharp jaw. his big hands were anchored firmly on your hips, his thumbs digging into your skin as you worked above him. you leaned back, your palms flat against his thighs, and you moved your body up and down on his length with a slow, deliberate grace, tilting your head back as you let out a ragged, intoxicating sound of pure pleasure.

michael had come to your house just for the night, wanting nothing more than to be by your side, to talk, to cuddle, and to love up on his sweet girlfriend. but one thing led to another, and the air between you had turned thick and heavy, suddenly you were kissing him hungrily, begging him, even after he had repeatedly told you he couldn’t, not while your parents were awake, watching tv downstairs. he couldn’t do it; his sweet, anxious soul couldn’t bear the idea of your parents finding out about your passionate lovemaking. he kept his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw set, convinced that if they heard even a single creak of the bedframe, he would be so mortified he would simply die.

but he couldn’t resist you, not when your hands kept moving over his bulge, not when you were gripping him through his pants, making it impossible to rebel against the idea of making love, right there and now.

so here you were, on top of michael, wringing out every possible whimper, moan, and groan from his throat. he tried to stay quiet, for the sake of the innocent souls of your parents downstairs, but he truly, and sincerely, couldn’t contain the sounds of his pleasure. he bit down hard on his own lip, his teeth grazing the skin until it stung, trying to swallow the noises that threatened to give you both away.

“baby,” he whimpered, his voice cracking and breaking under the weight of his own desire. he hissed through his teeth as you moved faster on top of him, his eyes glassing over, his vision becoming flashes of hot white as his hands trembled against your waist. his head tossed from side to side on the pillows, his hair damp and messy, and every time you bucked up against him, a low, guttural sound escaped his chest that he couldn’t fight back. he was lost, completely consumed by the way you were breaking him down, his own fear of being caught finally dissolving into the overwhelming intensity of your touch.

“michael, oh baby.” you groaned.

“fuck.”

you were just as lost in pleasure as he was, your own teeth sinking into your lip to keep your voice low, letting out soft, ragged puffs and groans into the stagnant air of the bedroom.

and then you stopped moving.

michael swallowed hard, the sudden stillness creating a void that felt almost painful against the frantic rhythm he’d been craving. his eyebrows creased in confusion as he peered up at you, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure while you halted your momentum on top of him.

“mama, why’d you—“

his question died in his throat, replaced by a sharp, shaky intake of air as you suddenly began to roll your hips against his. you weren't moving up and down anymore, instead, you were grinding, making tight, warm, circular motions that frictioned every sensitive nerve he had. his eyebrow twitched, his entire frame shuddering as, for a second, his eyes rolled back into his head. the shift in your posture caused him to slide even deeper inside of you, and you took him, all of him, with a greedy, possessive grace.

as you continued those agonizing, slow rolls, you reached down and took hold of his large hand. you wrapped your fingers around his wrist, guiding his index and middle fingers toward your lips. you teased him, pulling his digits into your mouth and swirling your hot, wet tongue around his fingertips, watching his expression shatter into pure, unadulterated need. he was trembling beneath you, completely undone by the intimacy of the act, his restraint finally, irrevocably, shattered.

michael could’ve cummed right there.

at the sight of you on top of him, in complete control, riding him like you were born to do it, like he was born for this moment, born to be inside of you, like you were made for him. simply put, the feeling of your tongue on his fingertips overwhelmed his senses. he couldn’t bear to look, feeling as if he were defying god just by witnessing such an obscene, beautiful sight.

“oh god..”

the pleasure was becoming unbearable, in all of the right ways. michael momentarily cursed under his breath, quickly asking for forgiveness as he lolled his head back, eyes fluttering shut. his brain began to cloud over, he couldn’t think anymore, and he’d forgotten how to breathe correctly. he was hiccuping now, his whimpers raw, whiny, and mixed with desperate, jagged breaths.

you could feel michael twitch deep inside of you, with a heavy heat pooling into your stomach, forming a tight, pulsing knot. your face tightened, eyes glossing over in pure pleasure as your knees started to tremble against the mattress.

you began to roll your hips faster, desperate to chase that overwhelming, jagged edge of sensation. the bed frame started to creak rhythmically under your combined weight, and you transitioned into moving up and down, michael letting out a guttural, shaken groan every time your hips slammed down and connected with his.

and as michael kept hitting that same spot over and over, your jaw clenched, and you felt the hot knot in your stomach snap, michaels legs shook beneath you, a train of ‘please’s’ escaping his lips. he was utterly, totally fucked out that he couldn’t even control the sounds of words that had left his lips.

you simply worked him into overtime.

and as you looked down, the breath was snatched from your lungs.

michael, was crying.

not just eyes glossed over, he was genuinely sobbing, tears dribbling hot and fast down his cheeks. his chin trembled uncontrollably, his eyebrows knitted together in an expression of sheer, overwhelming intensity. he didn't know what to do with his hands, his fingers just clutching at the meat of your hips as if holding on for dear life. soft, broken puffs of air escaped his trembling lips, and sometimes, you couldn't even tell the difference between his heavy, rhythmic moans and the high, puppy-like whines that slipped out.

his eyes were so big, dark brown, and blown wide to the point of complete, hazy bliss. his body rolled in waves of violent trembles as he tried, and failed, to regulate his own ragged breathing. you had tainted his poor, innocent soul, and he knew it, he knew he had sinned, that he had finally, completely given in to the fruit of lust.

he looked up at you with such raw, unmasked vulnerability, his chest heaving with every sob. his internal conflict was written all over his face, a mixture of guilt and absolute, earth-shattering ecstasy. but even through the tears, even through the shame he felt for the act, god knows he would do anything to have you ride him like that again. he was yours, body and soul, surrendered to the pleasure you drew from him, completely undone by the weight of how much he loved you.

[alohaluz]

a fic where Jaafar has to do ballet for get ready for the dances of the biopic and they hire reader who is a ballerina to teach and help him and they fall in love

i loved this idea anon! i hope you enjoy it. scenario based on the ask ۶۟ৎ

jaafar is tired.

but he's not giving up on it. he's putting all of himself into it; he needs to give his best for this movie. it's not about mimicking his uncle; it's about trying to give the public a glimpse of who michael was.

the gentle breeze is somehow comforting. jaafar taps his fingers while he waits patiently for you to arrive. he's in hayverdust—and today is ballet day.

to portray his uncle, much more than facial resemblance is required. the dance is what is going to tell everything; that's the reason that every day he spends more than 18 hours dancing in front of mirrors.

it's his first time seeing you.

when you open the door, he's surprised. you're beautiful—and you're dressed like a ballerina. not with a leotard and a tutu; you're wearing yoga leggings and leg warmers even though it's not that cold.

you smile at him. you have a pretty smile. you introduce yourself to him. his body has an immediate reaction when he hears your voice: a shiver goes down his spine, and his heart skips a beat.

"nice to meet you too. i'm jaafar."

"i know who you are. i'm sorry for being late. i think we can start with a relevé, what do you think?"

"no problem, ma'am."

you see him every tuesday.

but the fourth tuesday you see him is, for some reason, different. he's waiting for you with an iced caramel latte. it's not your favorite drink, but you still gladly accept.

jaafar is gentle in many ways: when he opens the door and lets you pass first, or when he asks you about how you spent your weekend. you convince yourself that he acts like this with everyone.

"did you like your coffee?"

"i did, thank you. are you enjoying our classes? i mean, i hope i'm not being too harsh on you..."

"no, it's totally fine—being honest with you...i'm not a ballet guy, you know. but michael was, and now i'm just trying my best with everything: the jazz classes, the hip hop classes...all of them."

you admire how jaafar is so determined to make the movie happen—his eyes linger on you. but not in a creepy way; you feel as if he is trying to unveil your soul.

it's overwhelming having all his attention on you; it burns you inside. that glance is what compels you to say:

"you're special, jaafar...in many ways. shall we start? today i want you to spin and spin as much as you can."

since he brought you coffee, you have started to be more open with him—it's not that jaafar has a crush on you.

alright.

maybe he has a little crush on you. otherwise, he wouldn't feel like a teenager every time you touch him.

but it's inevitable, when you're so sweet.

or when you pay attention to whether he's doing the spins right; the way you tilt your head if he fails to find his center. it's not like you're doing it on purpose; you're just being yourself, so charming.

today is no different.

he's warming up in the dance room while he waits for you to arrive.

you look stunning when you open the door; he feels like every time he sees you walking through that door, the urge to have you to himself grows stronger.

you're talking on the phone. your voice is quiet, almost like a whisper, but he still can understand what you're saying.

something about meeting someone...

and you finish the call saying, "goodbye, baby."

he is almost freaking out—because the thought of having a crush on a girl who is in a relationship and is his ballet teacher is totally fucked up.

and so unfair. because that means that the tension he felt was unilateral; you literally said that he was special. well, maybe you just meant special. and nothing more.

he pretends he's okay.

he can't find his center, no matter how many times you say to him that the secret is in the balance, not the force. he keeps replaying the memory of you calling someone other than him baby.

he could be your baby.

the next spin he does ends with him on the floor. his whole body is in pain: his feet, his knees. he wants to throw it all away—but you go abruptly to his side.

you don't know what happened to him; it's the first time he has fallen down in such a way. you're worried. you moisten your lips as you reach for his hands—they are soft, warm, and big. he doesn't look at you for a moment.

you just stay there with your fingers interlocking with his, and for a while, everything slows down.

the earth stops orbiting.

you stop breathing.

it's just you and him. you have no idea how much time has passed before he finally says something. he holds your hand tighter than ever, and he starts to get too close to you.

too close, in a way that you can feel his fresh breath, and you smell his intoxicating fragrance. and now, all you can think about is jaafar.

your thoughts are all on him; he's all on you.

"i just need to know one thing. are you with someone?"

"jaafar? n—no."

before you can complete your answer, his warm hands are now on your chin, and then you feel his lips pressing against yours. it's too good to be true. his hands run all over your body, leaving you in ecstasy. he presses closely against you, his tongue travels in your mouth—he bites your lower lip—and you breathe sharply.

fuck, it's too good.

the way he touches you, the way your body reacts to his. you're drowning in his arms; when he finishes kissing you—you're still dizzy and your legs are like jelly. thank god he's still holding you so firmly.

his voice is deeper, as if he had run a marathon; he's staring at you intensely, and you're melting every time he gently rubs your back with his hands.

"i have wanted to do this since the first time i saw you entering through that door."

"really?"

"really, baby. and i think now you have more things to teach me than ballet." you roll your eyes, and while he gives a sweet laugh, you gently smack his lips with yours.

"yeah, maybe i can teach a few things that aren't about spinning, mr. jackson."

[femalekanye]

my cougar

[michaeldiary]

WE LIVE FOR BRATTY MICHAEL 🤤🤤

he would be such a problem. like such a little shit. with a slick ass mouth too 😭

[gothicmj]

I’m gonna stay off the internet june 25th cause I don’t have the emotional strength to see all the edits and posts

[buckysgirlll]

mature!michael finds out that he loves to be called daddy

cw: 18+ minors dni — fem!reader, mating press, creampie, guys this one is just smut smut smuttt

michael jackson masterlist ༻ navi

“nghh— fuck!” you moan, feeling the thickness of michael’s tip hit your cervix over and over again.

you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his lips to yours in a messy kiss.

“it feel so good, godddd. faster, please.” you whine, your lips brushing his with every word.

“oh yeah?” michael says, starting to quicken the pace of his thrusts. the movement of his hips were lethal before, but now that they’re plummeting into you with such speed, you can’t help the way that your legs are shaking while they’re wrapped around his waist.

“oh yes. yes, yessss!” you scream in pleasure. you honestly won’t be surprised if the whole city heard you.

“you gon cum for me baby.” michael whispers in your ear, filling you with the whole length of his cock. you gasp when he stays there, his pelvis grinding into you like he’s trying to puncture your lungs.

it damn sure feels like it.

your mouth opens in a silent scream at the sudden pressure and all you can manage is a weak nod.

“use your words.”

you feel the sudden emptiness when michael pulls out until just the thick head of his mushroom tip is at your entrance and you whine, bucking your hips so you can try and slide him back inside of you.

“please…please i wanna cum. i wanna cum so bad daddy!” your mouth was running at a hundred miles per second that you didn’t even realise what you just called him. and you’re so horny and desperate to cum that you didn’t notice the way michael just completely froze above you, his eyes darkening.

your eyes widen when michael grabs onto the back of your thighs and pushes down on them, practically folding you in half. without a single warning, he plunges back inside of you with quick, hard thrusts.

“fuckkk. you can’t say that baby.” michael let’s a groan, pushing his whole body weight on top of you so your ankles are near enough touching your ears.

“what— ahhh!” you moan immediately after the words spill out your mouth. “fuckkkk, im gonna cum!” you yell, when michael reaches his hand down between your bodies to rub tight circles on your swollen clit.

“yeah do it. cum on daddy’s cock baby.” you don’t even hear his words because all you hear is ringing in your eyes and dark spots start to cloud your vision at the force of your orgasm.

and you definitely don’t hear the guttural groans in your ear and the feeling of michaels cum flooding your insides.

that’s probably the hardest you’ve came in your entire life.

you let out a small whine when michael pulls out, and lays down beside you.

“c’mere.” he coos, pulling you into his chest and placing a kiss on your forehead.

“that was so… good.” you pant.

“you’re something else you know that right.” michael smirks, looking down at you.

“what?” you can’t help but smile at the look on his face.

“calling me daddy?” he raises a brow.

“oh.” you laugh, hiding your face in his chest. he gives your forehead another kiss before getting up and running a shower for you both.

if he fucks you like that… then you’ll be calling him daddy a lot more!

AN: uh… i don’t even know what i just wrote

[myhobari]

Can you do a mature era mj fic where he has trouble sleeping and wife!reader puts it on him so he can??

back to sleep

a michael jackson fic

summary ~ requested!

includes ~ smut // wife reader // mature era mikey

wc ~ 1.4k

a/n ~ wooooo i’m back! @yourleogf - YOU MOTIVATED THIS! 💕

————————————————————————

The digital clock on the nightstand read 2:47 a.m.

Michael lay on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, staring at the ceiling of the master bedroom. His body was exhausted, rehearsals for the new project had been brutal, but his mind refused to settle. The usual tricks hadn’t worked tonight: the herbal tea, the soft music, even the meditation you’d tried together earlier.

You watched him quietly from your side of the bed, heart aching at the tension in his jaw and the furrow between his brows. Even restless, he was breathtaking.

“Can’t sleep again?” you asked softly, shifting closer until your body pressed against his side.

He sighed, turning his head toward you. “My brain won’t shut off. Keeps looping the new arrangements, the staging, everything.”

You smiled gently and slid your hand across his bare chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart. “Then let me help you turn it off.”

Michael’s dark eyes met yours, a flicker of heat cutting through the exhaustion. “Baby… you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Let your wife take care of you tonight.”

You climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. The silk of your short nightie rode up your thighs as you settled over him. Michael’s hands immediately found your waist, sliding up under the fabric to caress your bare skin.

You kissed him deeply, slow and sensual, tongues gliding together as you rocked your hips against him. He hardened quickly beneath you, his thick length pressing against your core through the thin barrier of his silk pajama pants.

“Feel what you do to me,” he groaned against your lips, voice already rougher.

You sat up, pulling the nightie over your head and tossing it aside. Michael’s gaze darkened as he drank in the sight of your naked body in the moonlight— full breasts, soft curves, the way your skin glowed. His hands cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled under his touch.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, leaning up to take one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his other hand squeezed your ass.

You moaned softly, grinding down harder on his growing erection. When you couldn’t wait any longer, you reached between your bodies and freed his cock from his pants. He was rock hard, thick and heavy, the head already glistening with precum.

You stroked him slowly, savoring the velvety heat in your hand. Michael’s head fell back against the pillow with a deep groan.

“Baby… please,” he whispered, hips twitching.

You positioned yourself over him and sank down inch by inch, taking every thick inch until he was buried completely inside you. Both of you moaned at the feeling. He stretched you so perfectly, filling you to the brim.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” Michael breathed, hands gripping your hips tightly. “So warm and tight around me.”

You started riding him slowly at first with deep, rolling movements that let you feel every defined ridge and vein. Michael’s eyes stayed locked on yours, dark with lust and love. His hands guided your hips, but he let you set the pace, content to be taken care of.

You gradually picked up speed, bouncing on his cock with more force. The wet, filthy sound of your pussy sliding up and down his length filled the room, mixing with your shared moans.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, voice husky. “Ride me just like that.“

You braced your hands on his chest and rode him harder, grinding your clit against him on every downstroke. Michael’s toned stomach flexed beneath your palms as he fought the urge to thrust up into you. Sweat began to glisten on his chest.

“Mikey…” you moaned, head falling back. “You’re so deep.”

He suddenly sat up, wrapping one strong arm around your back to hold you close while the other gripped your ass. In this position, he could thrust up into you while you rode him, the new angle making you cry out.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he panted against your neck, sucking a mark into your skin. “This pussy is gonna drain me tonight, girl.”

You rode him faster, nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure built deep in your core. Michael’s mouth found your breasts again, sucking and biting at your nipples while he fucked up into you with powerful strokes.

“I’m close,” you gasped.

“Me too,” he groaned. “Let me feel you.”

You came hard, crying out his name as your walls clenched rhythmically around him. Michael moaned loudly, the feeling pushing him over the edge right after you. He buried himself as deep as possible and came with a long, guttural groan, flooding your pussy with thick, hot pulses of cum.

You kept grinding slowly on him through both your orgasms, milking every last drop until he was trembling beneath you.

—

When you finally collapsed onto his chest, Michael wrapped his arms around you tightly, still buried inside you. His breathing was already slowing, the usual restlessness gone.

He kissed the top of your head, then your forehead, murmuring softly against your skin.

“Thank you, my love… You always know exactly what I need.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his neck as you felt his body relax completely beneath you.

You stayed like that for a while, enjoying the warmth of his body and the quiet satisfaction of knowing you’d helped your husband find peace the best way you knew how.

Eventually, you pulled the covers over both of you and let yourself drift off in his arms, his softening cock still nestled inside you, his cum slowly leaking out between your thighs.

Michael slept soundly through the night.

And you knew, without a doubt, that you were the only remedy he’d ever need.

——

taglist ~

@yourleogf @amyaaaaaaaaaaa @kyomionline @iam-lulu @butterflyeras-blog @luvziza4ever @magicalienicorn @v4mpteija @thelightknight21 @teafluvsz @cosmicautomatonshark @tojislittlesluttt @fabulousgurlll @softchaosdiary505 @theesexyyaquariuss

[invinor]

what if dangerous michael got severely turned on during one of your modeling shows? 18+

you were michael’s bombshell, his angel, and his entire world and as a much supportive boyfriend, he’s sitting on the sidelines of the runway with such easy access to you it made him utterly insane.

your strut. your legs. the way your hips moved so sensually yet at a fast pace to measure the tempo of the background music—everything simply making michael silent in utter shock as he watched you walk down the runway. not expecting to want you so badly and have the growing desire to tear every piece of clothing over your body, as you repeatedly stand over him at the edge.

michael, now with warmth settling in his lower stomach and his jacket feeling heavier than usual— he continues muttering repeated profanities and praises under his breath to prevent those around him from hearing such sensual and perverted things he wanted to do to you.

“fuck baby walk just like that.”

“another spin—atta girl show off for them baby.”

“all that ass and just mines mmm”

the consistent walk and different lingerie outfits wrapping around your hips, pushing your breasts up higher than usual, and your skin shining with soft oils and glittery makeup, made michael lose the last bit of sanity he withheld inside.

his hand lowered softly as he begins palming over his crotch and under the portfolios that were given out prior to the show starting. he couldn’t stop staring you down as you blow him a quick innocent lil kiss walking away—completely unaware at michael’s need and overall hunger. that’s till the show ended with your head deep between the glam room sofa cushions and tears streaming down your glittered eyes.

“y’know you looked real pretty out there angel.” michael praises, still with a hand holding down your head, as he continues to repeatedly fuck you harder while only listening to your small whimpers and pleads vibrate against the cushions.

your mascara tainting your blushed cheeks with faint “thank you’s” leaving your lips repeatedly at the sound of michael’s words. the growing sound of how wet you were surrounded the whole room as you slowly start to drip down your inner thighs, leaving michael to continue using your pussy as he pleases.

“but you look so much prettier like this.” as his finger hooks around the designer necklace around your neck from the show. your face now lifted up to display a beautiful mess in-front of michael’s dark eyes as he laughs under his breath at how pathetic you were melting in-front of him. “just f’me baby. my personal model.”

[y56n11]

Req:Hi, I hope you're doing well;

Can I request a Micheal x quiet! reader, moreover a reader with a resting sad face? Like there on a date, either with Micheal showing her his animals—or out to eat at a diner l couldn't decide myself m'sorry) and he's in a somewhat internal panic about her not having a good time, despite her actually having a good time, and having to reassure him about it.

Thank you,

ThrillerEra!Michael Jackson x Reader

warnings: none

masterlist

A/N: I have to post requests like this because tumblr is being fussy 😑

You walked half a step behind Michael, your hands loosely clasped in front of the simple sundress you had chosen to wear. You were an incredibly quiet person, you’d usually prefer to spend your nights alone, kicking your feet on the bed while flipping through a book. Yet somehow something about Michael pulled at you, which is how you ended up here.

You knew you carried a trait that confused a lot of people, and that was having a sad resting face. Even when experiencing happiness, your natural features always seemed sad, like you were quietly upset about something. You couldn’t count the amount of times people had asked you, “what’s wrong?” Or told you to “cheer up.”

Michael had spent two weeks busy in his studio, and the second he found himself having a free afternoon, he didn’t hesitate to call you.

You had been thrilled. You were still thrilled. As you watch him walk ahead of you, your heart thumps with a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

“Look over here, that’s where we're building a new place for the llamas,” Michael said, turning his head back to you. His large eyes scan your face, looking for a reaction.

You looked over to the place he was pointing at. You loved how much he cared for animals. You nodded slowly, gaze dragging back towards him. “It’s beautiful, Michael.”

Your voice came out quiet, you were lost in thought. Michael’s smile faltered, a sudden, panic sharp in his chest. He interpreted your silence as unhappiness. He lived in a world where he had to constantly entertain people, and seeing you look solemn was like a physical blow to his chest.

His mind overlapped with new thoughts, one after another: is she bored of me? Should I have chosen somewhere else to take her? Does she not like me?

He swallowed hard, his fingers moving nervously to tug at the collar of his shirt. “We can go look at the deer next,” he said quickly, his words tumbling frantically, desperate to make you feel more thrilled. “The deer are much better. They’re very gentle. They come up right to the fence.”

He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your wrist to pull you along the path. His touch was warm, soothing, yet carried a telltale tremor of anxiety that you couldn’t quite understand. You quietly followed him, your shoes crunching against the gravel. You felt completely content, basking in the sun’s warmth, feeling the heat melt away the tension in your shoulders while being happily dragged away by Michael.

When you reached the deer enclosure, the setting sun was painting the sky in beautiful shades of pink and purple. While you were distracted Michael gently plucked a nearby plant.

“Here,” he murmured, he grabbed the back of your hand gently, pushing a clover into your open palm, his fingers lingering a second longer than necessary. You looked up, his pleading eyes catching yours. “Just hold your hand out really still. Like this.”

He demonstrated, extending his own hand over the wooden fence, three clovers resting against his palm. A young doe stepped towards the fence, eyes curious and wide. She easily nibbled the clover out of Michael’s hand, her wet nose brushing against his palm.

Instead of watching the doe, Michael’s eyes remained on you, watching the side of your face, tracking the movement of your eyelashes, his eyes momentarily dropping down to your lips. He was desperate for signs that showed that you were having a good time.

You stepped closer to the rail, repeating the movements Michael had demonstrated, extending your hand over the wooden fence. Your heart swelled as the doe shifted her attention towards you, snatching the clover out of your hand.

Michael pouted slightly. The silence, the way you sighed, the heavy look still settled onto your features which unraveled him completely. He felt an agonising wave of heartbreak washing over him.

“You want to go home, don’t you?” The question was so quiet, it took you by surprise. Why would you want to go home? Your brow furrowed.

Michael didn’t want to keep you here if you didn’t want to stay, he’d never force you to do something you wouldn’t want to do.

He did everything he could to prevent you from seeing how your mood affected him, he was failing of course.

“What?” You whispered, taking a step forward towards him. “Michael, no. Why would I want to go home?”

“You look so upset.” He confessed, his brow furrowing into an agonising line of worry. “You seem sad. You’ve barely said much, are you sure you’re okay?”

Your lips parted slightly, a sudden wave of hot, embarrassment etching its way through you. You started at him, you had been completely oblivious to the massive misunderstanding that had been brewing in his head.

“Michael…” you said quietly.

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted suddenly, his fingers nervously twitching. “I should’ve planned something better. I'm sorry, I really just wanted to see you. I’ve missed you. I don’t know what to do on dates-”

“Michael, stop.” And suddenly you were standing right in front of him, your palm sliding over the back of his hand, steadying the anxious tremor in his hand. His eyes fluttered with woe. He was vibrating with restless energy. Your heart felt suddenly full realising how much Michael truly cared about what you felt.

“I’m not sad, Michael.” You said timidly. “I’m having the most wonderful time. I love being here, with you.”

Michael blinked, his head tilting. Despite being confused, his features evidently flushed with a wave of relief at your words. “But you seemed so sad.”

You shook your head, “I just have a sad resting face. Even when I’m the happiest, my natural expression always makes me seem sad. I promise you, I love spending time with you.” You said softly.

Michael stared at you. His mouth slightly parted, his brown eyes tracing every single line of your features as if he was rereading a book and this time understanding the true meaning. All of the restlessness, and impatience slowly melting from him.

“A resting sad face?” Michael questioned, his voice taking a curious tilt.

“Yes.” You groaned, looking down at your feet, completely embarrassed. “It’s awful, people ask me what’s wrong at least three times a week. I didn’t think it would make you panic.”

“You didn’t make me panic,” Michael lied, though the flush of pink creeping up his neck and dusting his ears told a different story. His fingers catching your chin, taking a better look at your features. “Okay maybe I did panic a little, I thought you were getting fed up with me.”

“I could never be fed up with you, Michael.”

“Good.” Michael leaned down, kissing your cheekbone. “Now let me go show you the rest of my animals.” He beamed.

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