Kyomi ۶ৎ

۶ৎ

[sturngrande]

• ♫⋆. ♪ ₊˚ ♬ ˚.  𓂃 hands on me ۶ৎ ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။|||| |

𓂃 𐙚 kyomi. 1 9. ariana grande. girly girl. baby pink. matts pretty girl. sonny angels. hello kitty. strawberry scented. bunnies. nyc. shawn hatosy. frilly skirts. babydoll tops. steve harrington. sparkly lip-gloss. madison beer. sturniolo triplets. heated rivalry. hudson williams. dennis whitaker. jaafar jackson. michael jackson.

𝜗𝜚 ⋮ ⋆° masterlist. au catalog.

[michaeldiary]

　　﹕   (✿˘͈ᵕ˘͈)   ┈  neapolitan prince syndrome.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ thrad era! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ summary : michael’s feeling a bit insecure because his vitiligo is starting to affect his private parts and it’s making you spiral because you haven’t gotten dick in months so you think you’re the problem. fortunately for him? you think his dick is still pretty and you’re still going to slobber on it and show him a REAL thriller night.

　　┊   ♡   ﹒ byi : smut 🔞, michael’s vitiligo is the main point of “conflict”, oral sex (male receiving), shy michael, reader is high strung and a little ditzy (bimbo), a little bit of angst if you squint. some self esteem issues. had fun writing this!

The first few times, you didn’t think much of it.

Michael was busy and exhausted, that was expected. Michael had always carried the entertainment industry on his back, and it wasn’t unusual for work to follow him home. So, when he rolled over with an apologetic smile or distracted you with a kiss against your forehead before things could go any further, you accepted it without question.

Then weeks became months.

The affection never disappeared. If anything, it seemed to increase. Michael still reached for your hand in public. Still pulled you against him on the couch. Still buried his face in your neck when he came home after long days. He still looked at you with love so obvious that you could see tiny little hearts in his pupils. Yet somewhere along the way, a distance had developed between you. Not emotional distance but physical distance. You know.. sexually. Every time the relationship threatened to cross a certain.. threshold, he found a reason to retreat.

Michael took care of you in other ways though: his hands, his mouth, even his thigh but you couldn’t remember the last time he really fucked you. Or, actually maybe you could! It was about three months ago—you rode him at four in the morning before he had to get ready for an early morning flight out to attend an award show. But that’s not the point here! The point is, when he came back, things changed. And of course, you enjoyed the alternatives but there is truly nothing like feeling all six inches of his dick digging into you.

And at first, you blamed circumstances.

Eventually, you started blaming yourself.

The following weeks were a disaster, diva.

You changed your hair, changed it again. Then you became convinced the first version had actually looked better and spent three days mourning it. You switched nail colors so many times that your nail tech eventually stopped asking questions and just started staring at you with growing concern because you were starting to work her nerves. Long nails! Short nails! Red! Pink! Nude! French tips! Nothing seemed helped. Every appointment had the optimism of a woman who was genuinely convinced that the solution to her problems might be hiding inside a bottle of acrylic powder. It never was.

You bought new clothes.

You rearranged your makeup routine.

You spent a ridiculous amount of (his <3) money on skincare products advertised by women who were so obviously professionally done in makeup.

At one point, you became convinced that a boob job would somehow save your relationship.

A boob job would not save your relationship but mostly because your relationship wasn’t actually in danger. But to be fair, you just didn’t know that yet.

The problem was that once insecurity took root, it became impossible to think normally. Suddenly every mirror was an enemy, every picture of yourself fueled your dilemma and every minor flaw you found turned into a very big one. You stood in front of mirrors turning your head from side to side like a confused puppy.

Maybe it was your hair.

Maybe it was your body.

Maybe your skin looked weird.

Maybe your face looked weird.

Maybe you needed botox?

The theories became increasingly unhinged.

By the end of the second month, you had somehow managed to convince yourself that Michael no longer desired you because of a collection of microscopic imperfections that literally nobody else on Earth had ever noticed. The longer Michael avoided sex, the easier it became to convince yourself that there had to be a reason. A person didn’t simply wake up one day and stop wanting someone they loved.

So naturally, the explanation had to be you.

There was simply no other possibility.

Certainly not Michael Jackson, like.. thee Michael Jackson? Get real. A man who instinctively apologizes to inanimate objects after bumping into them. A man who asks you to send his food back because he doesn’t want the staff to feel bad. A man whose default response to conflict is both palms up and hoping the issue is resolved without much confrontation.

No. Clearly the issue wasn’t him.

By the time Michael finally came home from the studio that night, you’d already prosecuted the case, delivered the verdict, and sentenced yourself accordingly. The only problem was that nobody had bothered informing the defendant.

Michael knew something was wrong the moment he walked through the front door.

And not because you said anything weird. In fact, the opposite. You greeted him with a bright smile and an enthusiastic, “Hi, baby!” before immediately returning to furiously wiping down a perfectly clean kitchen counter. The surrounding area smelled aggressively of purple fabuloso. Every surface sparkled pristinely, the furniture had been rearranged—there wasn’t a single thing out of place.

Michael glanced at the clock on the stove. It was nearly two in the morning and exhaustion lingered in the slope of his shoulders. The Bad sessions had been consuming him lately, turning days into nights and nights into mornings. Normally he returned home looking drained, tonight however, the fatigue seemed to disappear the second he got a proper look at you.

He smiled to himself.

Stress cleaning.

He’s learned this quirk of yours long ago. Stress cleaning only happened when something was deeply upsetting that pretty little heart of yours. Normal people cried. Some people yelled. You wanted to flip houses. And that was okay.

“How was the studio?” you asked cheerfully, already moving on to a cabinet door that did not need cleaning. Michael slowly set his bag down on the kitchen island. The smile on your face looked.. suspiciously forced and assembled in a hurry, your eyes red and puffy.

“It was real good.”

“That’s good.” You continued scrubbing.

For a few moments, Michael kept watching you. The way you moved from one task to another without actually accomplishing anything. The way you wiped surfaces that were already spotless. The way your smile appeared and disappeared depending on whether you thought he was looking. A lesser man might have missed it. Michael didn’t.

Slowly, he crossed the room. “Baby love.” The nickname was soft, gentle. And it usually made you look at him.

This time, it didn’t.

Michael’s smile faded slightly. He’s worried.

“Hey.” His hand settled lightly against your arm, stopping your endless circuit around the kitchen and only then did you glance up. The concern in his eyes nearly made you cry all over again. After spending weeks convincing yourself that Michael no longer wanted you, it felt deeply unfair that he still looked at you like that. With that stupidly beautiful face like your sadness mattered.

“You okay?” The question was simple.

And you hated it because it would’ve been much easier if he’d been cold. So much easier if he’d actually done something wrong. Instead, here he was. Standing in front of you after a fourteen hour day, still more interested in your feelings than his own exhaustion.

You nodded too quickly. “I’m fine, Mikey.”

Michael tilted his head. Patient. Skeptical. And entirely unconvinced. “You’re not.”

His statement wasn’t accusatory, it wasn’t even challenging. Just super matter of fact like noticing rain through a window.

You laughed weakly and turned back toward the counter. “I am.”

“This spot is about sick of you wipin’ it..” Your hand froze and Michael’s mouth twitched. “You wiped it about five times.”

The laugh that escaped you sounded suspiciously close to a sob. Immediately, the hint of amusement vanished from his face. Without saying anything else, he gently took the rag from your hand and set it aside. And he reached for you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest.

Michael rested his cheek against the top of your head, one hand slowly smoothing over your back as he held you there. Waiting. Patiently. The way he always did. Because Michael had never been the sort of person who demanded answers.

The problem was that once you finally opened your mouth, you weren’t entirely sure you could stop.

The first sound that escaped you wasn’t a sentence.

It was a wail.

A loud, ugly sob that seemed to surprise even you.

Michael immediately froze.

Because one second he was rubbing slow circles into your back and the next he was staring down at you with wide eyes, completely confused. “Hey..”

“I’ve been tryin’ to fix it!” You managed to get out through your cry.

“Fix what?”

“Whatever’s wrong with me!” You wiped your nose. “I changed my hair. I changed my nails. I bought all those dresses!”

Michael looked bewildered. “Why? Why would you think you need to fix somethin’? There’s nothing wrong with you, pretty girl..”

“Because!” You cry again. “You won’t fuck me!”

Silence settled over the kitchen.

Complete, suffocating silence.

You watched the realization arrive in stages. First confusion, as he tried to understand what you were actually saying. Then understanding. Then immediate, unmistakable embarrassment. His entire face went red so quickly it was almost impressive. The color climbed from his neck to his cheeks and straight into the tips of his ears. Michael looked away at once, suddenly finding the refrigerator, the cabinets, the floor, and quite possibly the structural integrity of the kitchen tiles more interesting than making eye contact.

“Oh.” The word emerged strained.

You sniffled miserably. “’s what I've been talking about this whole time..”

Another pause followed. Michael rubbed the back of his neck, his expression growing more flustered with every passing second. He looked like a man desperately searching for an emergency exit that didn’t exist.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“No, not okay,” He corrected immediately. “I mean..” His voice trailed off and the poor man looked completely mortified.

“That's what this is about?”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, Michael!”

Michael squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment.

Because he was embarrassed.

Utterly, completely embarrassed.

For months you’d apparently been carrying this hurt around by yourself, blaming your hair, your nails, your clothes, your body, your face, your existence. Meanwhile, he had been operating under an entirely different misunderstanding. Now he had to explain himself, which unfortunately required discussing a subject that already had him blushing so hard he looked overheated.

The heat spread further down his neck.

“Michael.”

“I’m trying..”

”You’re making me anxious!”

He groaned softly and covered part of his face with one hand. “’m trying to figure out how to say it..”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t actively fighting back tears because the sight would’ve been funny under different circumstances. Here you were having the emotional breakdown while Michael looked seconds away from dissolving into the floorboards.

“Baby,” he said quietly.

“What is it, Michael?”

His gaze dropped again. “You really thought I didn’t want you.. like that anymore?” The sheer disbelief in his voice almost offended you.

“Well, what was I supposed to think!” The question seemed to connect the dots for him because from your perspective, the conclusion made perfect sense. And suddenly his embarrassment gave way to guilt.

Deep, genuine guilt.

Because now he understood what these past months had looked like through your eyes. You hadn’t been obsessing over your hair or your dresses because you were vain, not that he would even mind anyway. You’d been trying to solve a problem, trying to fix something you believed was wrong with you.

When in reality, it had never been about you at all.

Michael swallowed then looked down at the floor. “It’s spreading.”

Your brow furrowed. “Huh?”

There’s long pause. “The vitiligo.” His voice had dropped almost to a whisper. “It’s spreading.” It seemed like he might stop there, he’d already said more than he wanted to but he forced himself to continue.

“On..” He swallowed. “Those parts.” The blush returned.

“Oh.” Your expression was unreadable.

Michael laughed softly, humorlessly. “It looks different now.” His eyes remained fixed on the floor. “I know it shouldn’t bother me.. but it does.” The words came out small as he continued. “I just..” He shook his head. “It’s ugly.”

You just stared at him and then stared some more. Blinked.

Because you were furious.

Absolutely, incandescently furious.

Months?

You had spent months without his dick, crying in bathroom, changing your hair, buying new clothes, and conducting increasingly deranged investigations into your own appearance while this man had been convincing himself that you would somehow stop loving him.

First of all, you didn’t even play like that.

“Ugly?” You repeated.

Michael visibly shrank. “Lovey, I—”

“Ugly?”

His eyes squeezed shut.

Before Michael could start apologizing, you grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him. Hard. And the sound he made was mostly surprise as you felt it more than heard it.

When you finally pulled back, Michael looked thoroughly stunned, curls slightly disheveled, cheeks still hot.

“You are ridiculous.”

“Okay.” Its all he can say, really.

Another kiss. “You are the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met.”

Somewhere between your outrage and Michael’s flustered attempts to explain himself, the conversation dissolved completely. Every time he tried to apologize, you interrupted him with a kiss. Every time he attempted to look away, you guided his attention back. By the time you found yourselves stumbling toward the bedroom, Michael looked overwhelmed in the particular way he always did whenever he realized he was being loved much more aggressively than he’d anticipated.

Michael lingered at the edge of the bed, still looking uncertain with the traces of insecurity that had brought the two of you here in the first place. You could see it in the way his shoulders were drawn tight, the way he avoided your gaze.

You moved closer as you sat between his thighs on your knees. “Michael.”

He glanced up at you. “Show me.”

Michael blushed as he slowly unbuttoned his jeans, hesitating before lifting his hips an inch to slide them down along with his boxers in the hooks of his thumbs. His initial reaction when he settled back down was to cover himself, for his big hands to hover protectively over his cock to shield your pretty eyes but he knew better. His hands trembled slightly as he revealed his semi hard cock, glancing up at you with eyes that look like he’s maybe expecting rejection or laughter. But he’s not met with any of that. He swallowed hard, closing his eyes because you’re staring at it and maybe if he closes his eyes, it would make him invisible. Michael knows it won’t but, it makes him feel a little better about exposing the dick he’s hid for months.

He hesitantly reached down, his beautiful fingers trembling slightly as he wrapped them loosely around his length. He gave it a gentle tug upward, his breath hitching at the soft sound that escaped him. The motion was tentative—careful he was unsure if he should even be doing this in the first place. Was this even a good idea? What was he thinking? What are you thinking?

Michael opens his eyes a little, to peek at you. Wait. Why were you looking at him like that? Like you.. like this or something? His cheeks burned with embarrassment and he kept his gaze lowered, unable to meet your gaze.

Because.

The look in your eyes was genuinely humiliating. Women had fought for your right to vote and own property only for you to sit there staring at Michael like you’d never had a coherent thought in your life. The look in your eye wasn’t remotely mysterious. There are novels worth of yearning written across your face.

You looked at him with shameless affection and a viseral need that would’ve embarrassed a lesser woman. Every thought seemed to be written plainly across your face. A very obvious: oh my God, it’s so fucking pretty. I need this in my throat.

Your hands slid slowly up his thighs, feeling the slight tremor in his muscles beneath your touch. He let out a shaky breath as you gently pushed his hands away, replacing them with your own. His hips twitched instinctively at the contact and he squeezed his eyes shut again, face burning as you slowly wrapped your fingers around his length instead.

Fuck, its been so long since you had his dick in your hands.

You could see what he’d been referring to. What he’s been so insecure about enough to hide from you and lose sleep over.

It’s different than what it was the last time you saw it. Yeah.

But his vitiligo had created a beautiful, unique pattern across his cock. His shaft was like a piece of abstract work of art; creamy ivory petal shaped patches mixed with brown and pink sections in a way that reminded you of neapolitan ice cream. His balls sat beneath with the same splashes of paler pigment.

“It’s so pretty, Michael.. You were hiding this from me?” you murmured softly, leaning in close. Before he could stammer out a response, your tongue darted out to taste him, starting at the base of his beautiful marbled shaft. You dragged your tongue upward along one of the paler patches, earning a sharp, breathless gasp from him.

Michael’s thighs trembled under your hands as your tongue traced the intricate patterns across his sensitive flesh. “You—you think it’s still pretty?” he breathed, voice cracking with disbelief as he finally looked down at you through lidded eyes. His hips bucked forward instinctively as you swirled around his tip, his shyness melting into need. ”I always thought it was ugly..”

“So pretty, baby..” You murmured against his cock. “Can’t believe you were worried about me not liking it.. God, Michael, he’s gorgeous—can’t wait to feel him cum. Missed him so much, did he miss me?”

“Don’t—don’t talk like that about it..” He manages to say.

The pattern continued across his pelvic area, lighter patchwork breaking through some of his deeper skin tone like poured cream, soft patches drifted across his mons pubis into delicate maps of contrast. Further down, his thighs bore the same mesmerizing pattern, ivory splashes dancing along the inner and outer legs that stretched down toward his knees.

Michael had gotten very good at hiding it. The lower half of his body was easy enough. He rarely wore anything that revealed much skin anyway, so long pants, socks, loafers, and layers concealed most of the areas the public never saw. It was the visible places that required the real effort. His face. His hands. His arms. The parts constantly photographed, filmed, and scrutinized. Topical treatments and makeup helped even out some of the discoloration there, making it easier to step in front of cameras without drawing attention to every new change.

The areas hidden beneath clothing were different. There was no makeup artist touching them up before an appearance. No careful lighting or tricks to soften what he saw. They existed entirely in private, which somehow made them harder to ignore. Michael knew his body intimately and because he spent so much time looking for changes on his face and hands, he noticed every new patch everywhere else too. What most people never would have thought twice about became impossible for him to overlook, leaving him alone with insecurities nobody else even knew he carried.

Standing at its full size, Michael’s cock was a sight—thick and long but it wasn’t.. overly large. He had perfect boyfriend dick, a dick big enough to stretch you out but not so big it would hurt every time you attempted to just sit on it.

He looked down at himself, then at you and his cheeks flushed deeply as he realized how hard he was and just how good you were sucking his dick. He’s not going to last long.

Your mouth closed around him, taking him deep into your throat while your fingers gripped the sparse curls of his pubic hair. Michael let out a broken moan, head falling back and surrendering completely as your warm mouth overwhelmed his usual hesitance.

You pressed your tongue flat against the sensitive underside of his cock, dragging it slowly from base to tip. The broad and smooth surface of your tongue applied pressure against a particular throbbing vein, earning a deep and guttural moan from him. His hips jerked involuntarily, his knuckle in between his pearly whites as he watched you with furrowed brows.

It was filthy.

“M gonna—finish, gonna—’M gonna..” He whined, voice strained. ”Where do you want it? In your m-outh? On your face? Don’t know where to put it..” His hands gripped the sheets tightly, tugging just slightly as his body coiled with impending release.

You pulled back, wrapping your hand around his cock instead, jerking him off fast and tight just how he liked it. ”Cum on my face, baby.” You urged, looking up at him with lust glazed eyes. “Paint me so pretty, just like this fucking dick..”

It only took three more rough strokes before he was cumming, a strangled moan escaping his throat as thick ropes of cum spilled across your face. It landed on your cheeks, dripped down your chin, splashed across your lips and even some hitting your forehead and hair. His hips stuttered against your fist as he emptied himself completely, trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed through him. “Baby.. baby..”

As the last few drops dripped onto your face, Michael slumped forward slightly, breathing heavily as he looked down at you with gratitude. He gently moved to cup your face, thumbs brushing away some of the cum that coated your skin. “Thank you..”

You smiled sweetly. “My turn.”

© michaeldiary. 2026. do not copy, repost, translate, or feed into ai.

[starjjcksn]

JAAFTITTIES CRUMBS!!!!!!!!

[deadletterclub]

i’m ovulating lowkey wanna c0ckwarm jaafar

[prettyangeliczz]

cutting out heartbreak hotel scene and i know you mfs have it, is so EVIL. he killed that indian walk, DO YOU SEE THE MATERIAL?

[dearjaafar]

⌞ Jaafar Jackson and the Michael cast pick their favorite MJ songs ♡ ⌝

[prettyangeliczz]

oh baby, i’m so hungry

[michaeldiary]

we need more sub michael please 👀

i was gonna do that anyway bc that's just how i am!

[tabloidangel]

OFF THE RECORD, michael jackson.

— thinking about how shy and reserved michael is in public but the filthiest whenever he’s left alone with you entirely too long.

wc: do you really wanna know how filthy he can get or not?

content—18+ minors do not interact, explicit sexual themes. fluff, pet names, a consenting king, sensual kissing, whimpering, dry humpingg, semi-public sex, orgasm denial. hope i did him some justiceee mwuah!

something should’ve warned you there was a mischievous little thing buried somewhere deep inside the shy gentleman you knew as michael.

maybe it was the way his brothers teased him relentlessly whenever interviews painted michael as some impossibly “innocent” boy turned global superstar, remotely untouched by anything suggestive.

jermaine was always the one to laugh the hardest about it.

‘man if only y’all knew!’

and michael? he’d immediately duck his head afterward, shoulders shaking with embarrassed laughter insisting that the siblings stop. even as that little grin betrayed him completely.

was michael inexperienced? very much so, respectfully and faithfully by choice. but innocent? if we’re keeping it off the record? not nearly as much as people wanted to believe. because while the public saw his bashfulness, his brothers saw everything else firsthand growing up on the road with him.

they saw the way teenage michael greeted beautiful women backstage and at appearances. taking fan numbers and storing them in his pants during performances. shaking the hands of influential women all polite with soft spoken manners and lowered lashes everyone found so adorable. meanwhile michael would look them over appreciatively the second they walked away.

poking a tongue inside of his cheek the moment he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. shyness doing its best to disguise that charming little grin whenever he caught someone flustered by him.

and ever single time one of his brothers caught him doing it, the teasing started immediately.

‘mike swear he slick’

‘boy ain’t ever been that shy’

‘she got that boy nose widee open’

and michael would always deny it furiously afterwards. cheeks growing hot as he hid his face. but the evidence kept pilling up over the years.

because the same shy boy who struggled holding eye contact far too long was also the very same boy who’d gotten caught flipping through a playboy magazine somewhere in the old home videos of the jackson family archives.

“michael they filmin’ you..” joseph’s voice spilled past the camcorder.

the glossy pages flashing across the screen before he scrambled to hide it. horrified. shy glances overshadowing those curious eyes, curious hands, and curious mind. still trying to act innocent after the damning evidence was presented as they took a trip down memory lane.

you should’ve known then that there was something simmering quietly beneath thise cardigans, shy laughs, and gentlemanly habits.

or maybe it was the late night phone calls.

the spontaneous kind that michael was known for making whenever loneliness crept in too heavily. fame surrounding him constantly yet somehow it still left him isolated in ways most people would never understand. so, sometimes in the middle of the night, he’d simply call someone. anyone. whether it’d be family, a friend, or a fan. just to hear another human voice untouched by expectations, cameras, or screaming crowds.

and one random night, you answered. but neither of you knew just how dangerous that would become.

because somewhere between soft laughter through telephone static and whispered conversations stretching towards sunrise, michael stopped sounding like the biggest star in the world and started sounding like a man starving to be known.

maybe that’s why you never noticed the dangerous little shift happening beneath all that sweetness.

not until tonight.

the bass inside studio 54 practically rattled through your ribs as colored lights spun wildly across the crowded dance floor. disco balls splattering shimmering reflections against sweaty bodies moving shoulder to shoulder beneath mirrored ceilings and cigarette haze as ‘Get On The Floor’ blasted loud enough to swallow every coherent thought in your head.

and somehow michael still found you in the middle of all that chaos. grin spreading the moment your eyes met across the dance floor. all bright, boyish, and playful.

you barely had time to laugh before he was suddenly in front of you. moving effortlessly with the music while that infectious laugh from the song spilled from him in real time.

“c’mon!” he teased, reaching out for your hands before twirling you beneath him.

and god could michael dance. not just perform, but dance. feel every beat and rhythm the way only he seems to. moving effortlessly beneath the flashing lights, spins and footwork smooth enough to make your head turn trying to keep up with him.

big hands settling on against your waist, guiding himself around you before slipping away again. never too long, just enough to leave a lingering warmth behind. while shoulders bounce lightly to the beat as lights painted shifting colors across his face.

until a sudden finger poked against your waist, earning a squeal before he smoothly caught your hips again to steady you against him.

“oh you ticklish?” he teased.

the crowd surging tighter around you both, bodies pressed so close across the dance floor that you found yourself drifting behind michael one too many times. swallowed by the growing chaos. but each time it happened, michael’s hand found you almost instantly.

warm fingers curling around your wrist. your waist. your hand. keeping you close.

by the third time a man stumbled into you michael pulled you safely against him before you disappeared into the crowd entirely.

“you okay?” his brows pinched with concern.

“i’m fine mikey, promise..” you nodded, placing a reassuring hand against his chest.

but his hand stayed firm against your waist, protective. possessive in a way that felt strangely natural on him. moving you away swiftly when another crowd surged pushed up against your back. eyes darting around the club before he leaned toward bill near the edge of the dance floor.

“can we find somewhere quieter?”

within minutes, you were being carefully guided through the club, bill ushering you both to a quiet section he managed to carve out. tucked away behind heavy velvet curtains. keeping curious eyes and wandering strangers away while the muffled pulse of disco vibrated through the walls around you.

privacy, or atleast the closest thing michael jackson could get too it. now there was only this little pocket of quiet bill had secured for the both of you. for you.

colored flecks slipped through the seams, scattering fractured reds, blues, and golds across michael’s face every few seconds while shards of mirrored light shimmered throughout his fro like stars.

and suddenly you could really look at him.

the sharp line of his jaw, the graceful slope of his nose, that soft glow of disco resting against his brown skin as he sank comfortably into the sculpted conversation pit. a breathless laugh slipped from him as he caught his breath from the dance floor.

so handsome. and for once? he didn’t look away when you caught him staring.

he held it.

wide fawn eyes returning returning the favor as they dragging slowly over you beneath the dim lights, pearly teeth catching against his bottom lip in a slow bite. taking his time as though he hadn’t gotten a proper look at you all night.

heat crawled into your cheeks beneath his attention. not because he’d never looked at you before, but because he’d never looked this long. michael wasn’t even touching you but being looked at this carefully felt so much more overwhelming.

“your cute when you get all shy..” he murmured, head tilting slightly as his eyes flickered down to your lips. before slowly finding yours again. like he couldn’t quite figure out where he wanted to look.

and somehow hearing him say it made the heat that crept down your spine worse.

“you look so pretty,” he admitted quietly, the compliment barely above a whisper. like he’d meant to keep it to himself. “real pretty.”

the words settling between you, as his fingers absentmindedly traced along your calf. thumb brushing back and forth in lazy strokes all while his gaze lingered on his gorgeous girl.

“been thinkin’ that all night.” he confessed an moment later, brown eyes dropping briefly with a shy laugh. “ i don’t think i tell you enough.”

but the thing was, michael told you plenty. he always had. even during those countless late night calls where he’d sneak compliments in during conversations when he thought you weren’t paying attention.

but this felt different. because for the first time, michael wasn’t hiding how much he enjoyed looking at you. wasn’t disguising it being nervous glances or bashful smiles. he was letting himself stare, letting himself admire you openly. and somehow that honesty made him more vulnerable than compliment ever could.

then he leaned closer, slow enough for you to stop him if you wanted. close enough for his expensive cologne to wrap around you warm and dizzying. carrying traces of the night still lingering on his skin.

his mouth drifting towards the corner of your lips, a soft kiss. just before crossing to the other side, pressing another. equally patient.

and when michael finally pulled back, there was hardly any space between you at all. every breath shared as his mouth hovered just beneath yours. every word grazing as he spoke, “can i sweet girl?”

the question careful. patient. like your answer matter more than anything else. like he genuinely needed your permission. as if he needed to know you were okay with whatever he was about to do.

then his thumb lifted, moving with gentle hesitation that’d been woven into every tender thing he did. while the pad of it traced slowly along your bottom lip. from one corner to the other. his gaze following the movement as if he’d been distracted by it himself.

“please..?” he added softly.

the nod came before you could stop it, like your body decided it was sure before your mind. and michael released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. capturing your lips like a gentleman trying so hard not to stop being one. letting himself learn the feeling of your plush lips as his dragged across yours softly.

and when he finally pulled back, it wasn’t much. barely enough to separate. barely enough to breathe.

one hand tangling in your hair. tilting your head back just enough to deepen the angle. breathing ragged into your open mouth like he couldn't get enough. while another slipped higher, slender fingers leaving a scorching trail as they curl gently behind your knee.

a quiet request. an invitation.

guiding you closer, letting you feel that hard line of him settle against your pussy.

and my god could you feel it.

“there you go pretty girl..”

his breath warm and wet against your lips, soothing and soft even as your hips drop down in his lap, chasing that heavy pressure that sent a buzz through your clit. fingers tightening gently in your hair as he pulled you flush against his chest, meeting your hips with a slow rock.

his hands dipping to your hips, fingers digging possessively at the flesh of your ass as he held you gently in place. your tongue slipping out to taste his bottom lip, sucking it softly into your mouth with a wet pop.

“y-you make it so hard” michael whimpered into your mouth.

“so hard t’remember i’m supposed to be a gentleman with you” words slurring together as his head fell back against the velvet cushion. exposing that long, graceful throat as his hips jerked up involuntarily, rolling once, twice. “so hard not to ruin you…”

the words sounding almost devastating coming from someone so soft spoken. like wanting you this badly genuinely terrified him, which somehow only made you want him more.

and he was hard. so hard.

and so dangerously close to right where you needed him to be but instead leaning down to place a gentle kiss along your shoulder where the straps of your top had slipped.

“but you just feel so good,” finding your frilled thong peaking beneath your skirt. plush folds practically eating the fabric, “i bet she’s so pretty when she’s all wet and sticky for me”

lips brushing over the sweet hollow of your collarbone before, guiding your pretty face back down to his as he kisses you again, disgustingly slow this time. his tongue sliding against yours, deep and lazy as his fingertips squeezing higher, hiking your skirt up inch by reckless inch until the soft swell of your bare ass finally met air. like he was savoring every second. like he'd waited so long for this, that he needed to remember what it tasted like.

before you knew it five of your manicured fingers scratching along the soft curls at his nape while the others dug into his knee, holding your body and strained thighs steady as you helped him drag that clit against his throbbing dick. the thick pads of his fingers curling around the stringy band of your panties.

yanking. pulling.

practically dropping your pussy onto him just to meet halfway with hard, desperate thrusts against you. meeting the rhythm you'd started without even realizing it. mouth opening wider for you, tongue slipping out to chase yours, tasting like expensive champagne and something richer. sweeter.

“oh my fucking g— mich..michael” a shuddering whine against his mouth. “just like thattt,”

the weight of him undeniable beneath you, pressing flush into all the right places through the thin layer of his briefs that you both insistently drag of your soaked clit across. “please don’t stop baby..”

and why would he?

his hips rolling with you now, chasing every needy grind you gave him while his fingers splayed out possessively as they cradle the back of your skull, dragging kisses along the sensitive curve beneath your ear. panting hot along the column of your throat.

“never,” he promised, breath hot against your neck before he bit down—soft, but enough to mark. “i’d never stop for the world, angel”

making it almost impossible not to melt back against him

and somehow that promise came out sounding more sinful than sweet because those long slender fingers of his find the soaked crotch of your thong, pushing the fabric aside so he could finally see that glimmering clit. grinding that thick length of his dick against it with a delicious slow rhythm.

a rhythm that had your heavy head nuzzling into his neck, catching every shaky whimper that spilled from your throat, body growing hot with every slow roll. a rhythm that had his leaking tip soaking through his cotton briefs until they were nearly translucent with how much the two of you wanted eachother.

"god, you're so wet for me" he groaned against your throat, teeth catching the soft skin there before soothing it with a wet kiss.

snaking a hand down to grab your ass, like he needed you closer. the disco ball above casting shimmering lights across his face, highlighting his sharp features and soft lips. “please look at me baby,”

“i need it..”eyes blown wide and unfocused as you rocked against him.

and when your eyes finally met his again they were heavy with something neither of you had seen before. reeling back just enough so the both of you could watch each other work.

slender fingers digging into your fleshy hips as he drug your clit with a pressure that had your thighs trembling. a pressure that had his fat tip clinging to slickly thin fabric. a crumbling pressure that had you falling apart.

"michael—" your voice cracked, breaking on his name like it was a prayer.

until suddenly— thunk, thunk, thunk.

three knocks sound against the wall. not urgent. not concerned. just a loud enough sound to remind you both that rest of the world existed beyond your little corner of 54. the kind of knock that carried unmistakable feeling of a man who’d already given you both far more privacy than he intended.

“now michael,” bill sighed, “i can keep folks from peekin’ in here, but i can only make yall sound so innocent behind these curtains.”

your face burned, and judging by the breathless laugh michael tried hiding against your shoulder. he was too.

“especially with how noisy y’all being behind this here curtain.”

michael bit back another laugh, his cheeks flushed as he pressed a gentle kiss to your shoulder, trying to compose himself.

"s-sorry bill," he called out, his voice embarrassingly shaken.

pulling you closer as an his arms wrapping around to tuck you in a protective embrace. peppering soothing kisses across your face, each one accompanied by a soft chuckle as you tried burying yourself in his skin.

“your alright pretty girl. promise.”

and maybe, just maybe, he’d realized why he let that innocent image keep him at bay behind those filthy desires all this time.

[yenvixx]

Do you think you could write a manipulative boyfriend Michael smut where he gets jealous? Could he be condescending or degrading too? The way you write him is just so 😮‍💨

i absolutely adore this request, this is more of a one shot since im still busy w moving and such but i got some time to write a little something for u all<3

18+

michael guided you into the bedroom, his hand resting on your lower back. "you embarrassed me t’night" he murmured, his tone soft, but angry. like a parent scolding a child.

he sat on the edge of the bed and patted his thigh. "come here."

you reluctantly move closer, as he pulls you down over his lap, his hands resting on your thighs.

"did y’ enjoy his attention, mama?” he paused, squeezing your thigh tightly “did it make y’ feel reaaaal special?" his fingers trace along your thighs, under your skirt, finding your soaked panties.

"mmm, look at this," he cooed, his voice dripping with fake sympathy. "you're all wet thinking about him, aren't y’? poor baby, so confused." he slides your soaked panties to the side.

"you know what's sad?" he whispered, running his fingers on your lips, spreading you open. "you get this wet for the wrong men. like that idiot tonight. didya’ want him to fuck you?"

his thumb begins to rub your clit in slow circles. "is that what y’ wanted?" he teases, his tone mocking but soft.

"gettin’ soaked over a man who couldn't handle you properly." he slips two fingers inside you, pumping them so slow it hurt. "poor thing... you don't even realize you belong to me, do you?" he curls his fingers, making your hips buck.

"this pussy?" he continued, "this belongs to me, not him. not anyone else, baby." he leans down, lips brushing your ear. "every time he touched you tonight, every smile you gave him, you were mine anyway. that's what makes you so pathetic, baby."

his curls his fingers once more, you’re back arching against him. “that’s it, cmon’ baby.” he groans, your pussy squeezing tight around his fingers.

your eyes roll back as your release approaches, michael brings up his other hand and grabs your neck firmly. “lemme’ hear y’, angel.” he whispers in your ear.

quiet moans and whimpers leave your mouth, your pussy tighter around him as your legs begin to shake. he picks up the pace, breaking you completely.

he slowly pulls his fingers out of you, glossy and dripping. “look at this, baby.” he brings his fingers to your face, “this is from me. not him.”

[imhaechanshoe]

Q&A(GONE WRONG) 𖥻 JERMAJESTY JACKSON

synopsis: you should’ve known better than to film a Q&A with your freaky boyfriend.

ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ sexual acts mentioned ⊹ blackyoutuber.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ freaky.ᐟjermajesty

requested by annon.

the camera had been recording for less than thirty seconds and jermajesty was already being a problem.

not a surprising problem.

not even a new problem.

just the same familiar kind of problem that appeared every single time he was placed in front of a camera and given an audience.

some people became nervous when they were being recorded. some people became awkward. some people forgot how to act.

jermajesty somehow became worse.

he became himself.

which was exactly why your subscribers loved him.

and exactly why you regretted inviting him into today's video.

"what's up, y'all?" you greeted as you adjusted your position on the couch, smiling directly at the camera while jermajesty immediately started waving both hands beside your face.

"what's good?" jermajesty added as he leaned forward into the frame, flashing a grin that already looked suspicious.

you narrowed your eyes.

immediately.

"why do you look like that?" you questioned as you turned toward him, already feeling concerned for the future of this video.

"look like what?" he asked as he placed a hand over his chest dramatically, pretending to be offended.

"like you're about to embarrass me," you answered as you pointed directly at him, refusing to let him play innocent.

"that's crazy," he replied as he shook his head in disbelief. "you don't trust me at all."

"correct," you confirmed as you nodded seriously toward the camera.

jermajesty gasped.

the performance deserved an award.

"see?" he complained as he turned toward the camera. "this is what i go through every day."

"anyway," you interrupted as you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him continue. "today we're doing a q&a because y'all have been asking for one forever."

"and because y'all are nosy," jermajesty added as he folded his arms across his chest.

"that too," you admitted as you laughed.

you reached for your phone.

the list of questions stretched forever.

which was either a good sign or a terrible sign.

you hadn't decided yet.

"okay," you began as you scrolled down. "first question. how did you two meet?"

"you answer it," jermajesty instructed as he pointed toward you.

"i answer it every time," you argued as you looked over at him.

"because you tell it better," he replied as he shrugged casually.

you rolled your eyes.

"we met through jaafar, his brother," you explained as you looked back toward the camera. "and i thought he was annoying."

"which was disrespectful," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.

"you were annoying," you continued as you laughed.

"you loved me," he corrected as he pointed at himself confidently.

"eventually," you admitted as you smiled despite yourself.

"thank you," he replied as he nodded proudly.

you hated how satisfied he looked.

"next question," you said quickly as you looked back down at your phone.

"how long have y'all been together?"

"four years," jermajesty answered immediately as he rested his arm along the back of the couch.

"almost five," you added as you leaned against his shoulder briefly.

"that's my wife," he announced as he pointed toward you.

"we're not married," you corrected as you laughed.

"yet," he replied casually.

you stared at him.

he stared back.

then grinned.

the comments section was already going to be unbearable.

"moving on," you muttered as you scrolled faster.

jermajesty started laughing.

"what's your favorite thing about each other?" you read aloud as you continued scrolling.

"you go first," jermajesty replied as he looked toward you.

you thought for a moment.

"my favorite thing about him is probably how dependable he is," you answered as you glanced over at him. "if i need something, he's there."

his expression softened immediately.

"aw," he said quietly as he looked down.

"don't get emotional," you warned as you pointed at him.

"i'm not emotional," he argued as he sat up straighter.

"your eyes literally got watery."

"mind your business."

you laughed.

"what's your favorite thing about me?" you asked as you nudged his arm.

jermajesty looked at you.

then looked at the camera.

then looked back at you.

you already knew that look.

"choose your next words carefully," you warned as you narrowed your eyes.

he started laughing.

immediately.

"i like everything," he answered as he held his hands up defensively.

"mm-hmm."

"i'm serious."

"mm-hmm."

"your personality," he added quickly.

"okay."

"your smile."

"okay."

"your laugh."

"okay."

"and—" he paused dramatically before continuing, "the way you look when i'm inside you."

you choked on air.

"jermajesty!" you screeched as you covered his mouth with your hand.

he mumbled something against your palm.

"don't you dare," you warned as you pulled your hand back.

"what?" he asked innocently as he blinked slowly. "it's my favorite thing."

"we're skipping that," you declared as you scrolled faster.

"skip that one," jermajesty said immediately as he saw the next question over your shoulder.

"you didn't even read it."

"i can tell."

you looked at the screen.

then immediately covered your face.

"absolutely not," you said as you shook your head.

jermajesty looked far too interested.

"read it," he encouraged as he leaned closer.

"no."

"read it."

"no."

"coward."

"we're skipping it," you declared as you continued scrolling.

"for the record," jermajesty said as he looked directly into the camera, "i had an answer."

"and nobody wants to hear it."

"i think they do."

"next question."

the argument continued for another thirty seconds.

you eventually won.

barely.

"who said i love you first?" you read.

"you."

"i did not."

"you definitely did."

"i absolutely did not."

jermajesty immediately sat forward.

"you literally did," he insisted as he pointed at you. "right after i made you come for the third time."

you froze.

"jermajesty," you warned through gritted teeth.

"what?" he asked as he shrugged. "it's true."

"we're not talking about that," you hissed as you glanced nervously at the camera.

"why not?" he questioned as he leaned closer. "they asked."

"because my subscribers don't need to know about our sex life," you explained as quietly as possible.

"i think they do," he whispered back as his hand slid to your thigh. "especially the part where you—"

"next question!" you announced loudly as you slapped his hand away.

jermajesty chuckled as he watched you scramble.

"what's the biggest argument you've ever had?" you asked as you read the next question.

both of you immediately started laughing.

"we can't tell that story," he replied as he shook his head.

"absolutely not."

"we looked ridiculous."

"completely ridiculous."

"it lasted three days."

"and neither of us was right."

"facts."

you nodded.

some memories deserved privacy.

especially embarrassing ones.

"what's one thing your boyfriend does that annoys you?" you continued.

you didn't even hesitate.

"everything."

jermajesty gasped dramatically.

"everything?" he repeated as he looked genuinely offended.

"everything."

"wow."

"everything."

"that's crazy."

"everything."

jermajesty stared at the camera.

"y'all seeing this?" he questioned as he pointed toward you.

you couldn't stop laughing.

"okay, my turn," he announced as he sat up straighter.

"fine."

"you steal my hoodies."

"they're comfortable."

"you steal my chargers."

"you have extras."

"you steal my snacks."

"our snacks."

"see?" he said as he pointed toward you.

"that's called sharing."

"that's called robbery."

the two of you argued about snacks for five straight minutes.

somehow.

nobody knew how.

"okay," you said eventually as you wiped tears from your eyes. "last question."

"make it a good one."

you scrolled.

then smiled.

"what's something you hope never changes about your relationship?"

the room became quieter.

not sad.

not awkward.

just softer.

jermajesty looked at you.

you looked back.

and suddenly neither of you was joking anymore.

"i hope we're always friends," you admitted as you tucked your legs underneath yourself. "seriously."

he nodded.

immediately.

"same," he agreed as he looked down briefly. "because you're my favorite person."

your heart melted.

instantly.

"that was cute," you admitted quietly.

"i know."

"don't make it weird."

"i'm trying not to."

you laughed.

he laughed too.

and just like that, the mood felt normal again.

comfortable.

easy.

home.

"alright," you concluded as you looked toward the camera once more. "that's all the questions we're answering today."

"because she keeps skipping the good ones," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.

"because you can't behave," you replied as you rolled your eyes.

"that's fair," he admitted as he shrugged casually.

"thank y'all for watching," you said as you smiled at the camera.

"like, comment, subscribe," jermajesty added as he pulled you closer.

"and stop asking weird questions," you warned playfully.

"keep asking weird questions," he countered with a grin.

© 𝑖mℎ𝑎𝑒𝑐ℎ𝑎n𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑒

[mustangb3byy]

˖ ⭑ too much? | michael jackson ˖ ⭑

pairing: thriller m.jackson x fem!reader.

synopsis: michael can’t take what you give him and you’re really condescending about it.

warnings: smut, lowkey no plot at all, overstimulation, oral (m!recieving,) handjob, edging, use of good boy, baby, sub!michael, slight praise.

a/n: yeah idk i’m a horny bitch and love ts. that’s all i really gotta say. this is based on this request, i hope you love it.

you straddled michael’s hips, pressing your body against his as you kiss him deeply, your fingers playing with his hair. he moans softly, his hands gripping your waist. the room is dimly lit, the only sound being the soft music playing in the background. michael’s breath hitches as you move from his mouth to his neck, placing gentle kisses and bites. “baby…”

his fingers dig into the fabric of your shirt as you work your way down the column of his throat, sucking a dark mark onto his soft skin. michael’s head falls back against the pillows, his breathing growing shallow and ragged. his hips twitch upward instinctively, seeking friction, his usually composed demeanour starting to crack under your attention.

michael’s voice cracks slightly as he tries to catch his breath, his chest heaving. his eyes flutter closed, long lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones. a small, needy sound escapes him when your lips brush his adam’s apple. his hand leaves your waist to tangle in your hair, gently guiding you lower. “please…”

as you slide down his chest, kissing and licking his body, michael’s voice becomes breathier, more urgent. his fingers tug gently at your hair as you reach his stomach, leaving open mouthed kisses there. his stomach contracts under your touch, a soft whimper escaping him.

michael’s hips jerk upwards when you nip at his stomach, his voice breaking as he whispers your name. his eyes remain closed, his face contorted in a mix of pleasure and vulnerability. he bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back moans as you undo his belt and pull down his pants.

you look up at him, lips brushing against the fabric of his boxers, and smirk. “mm, already so hard for me, baby?”

michael whimpers, his usually meticulous composure completely unraveled. his thighs tremble as he looks down at you through lidded eyes. “i can’t…i can’t help it when you touch me like this.”

you hook your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down slowly, watching his cock spring free. you lean forward, letting your breath ghost over the head before speaking. “such a good boy, getting hard for me. you’re not gonna scream too loud, are? wouldn’t want your brothers hearing, would we?”

michael gasps, his face flushing deep crimson. his hips buck up involuntarily as your hot breath teases his sensitive flesh. he shakes his head frantically, trying to speak but only manages fragmented words. “n-no, i’ll be…quiet…i promise.” his fingers tighten in your hair, a silent plea for you to touch him.

you wrap your hand around his length, stroking slowly while maintaining eye contact, your voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “promise? you know how loud you get, mikey, when i touch you, you turn into such a needy little thing.”

michael moans softly, his head falling back against the pillow. his eyes are squeezed shut as he tries to maintain some semblance of control. his hips start moving slightly, fucking into your hand. “shut…shut up and suck…please…” he whimpers.

your hand immediately stops moving, gripping him tight enough to make him gasp, denying him any friction. you raise an eyebrow at him, your expression cooling instantly. “did you just tell me to shut up?”

michael freezes, his eyes snapping open, panic mixing with the list swirling in his dark gaze. he realises his mistake instantly, his breath hitching. “no..”

michael’s eyes roll back as you suddenly take him deep, his hand flying to his head in shock. he lets out a loud, unhinged moan that he immediately tries to muffle with his other hand a little too late. “f-fuck…fuck…i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

your cruel, teasing pace continues, ignoring his apology. michael’s hips stutter up, his entire body tensing as he bites down hard on his fists to keep him from moaning. tears prick at the corners of his eyes as he’s brought to the brink too quickly. “sh-shit..baby..wait.”

you deliberately pause, looking up at him with a smug, knowing smile, knowing exactly the effect you’re having on him. michael’s fist falls from his mouth, panting heavily as he glares at you with tear stained cheeks and glassy eyes. “you’re doing this on purpose..”

you don’t respond, just slow your hand to a lazy, torturous stroke—thing swirling around the tip with each pull. your lips stay just above him, warm breath teasing his sensitive crown. your eyes are hooded, lips swollen, that condescending little smirk playing at the corners of your mouth as you watch his entire body shake.

michael’s face contorts with need and frustration. he watches you touch him, his hips twitching to meet your hand. his voice comes out hoarse and pleading. “please..please baby. dont tease me like this..i’m so close..just a little faster..”

you don’t change your pace at all. just keeping that slow, steady stroke going. your smirk widens, your eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure as you watch your boyfriend squirm. “look at you,” you say mockingly.

you pout your lips, blowing a teasing stream of air over his tip. “such a needy boy tonight. i’m just touching you and you’re begging like a little bitch.” your hand moves slower, almost lazy.

your hand slows down even more, practically stopping, just ghosting your fingers over his throbbing length. “told me to shut up earlier, didn’t you? giving me orders…” you tut softly, shaking your head. “now look at you. falling apart because my hand isn’t moving fast enough.” you grip the base, squeezing hard.

michael whines high in his throat, his hips lifting off the mattress as the pleasure becomes agonising. tears spill over his lashes, tracking down his flushed cheeks. “please..please..i didn’t mean it..” he chokes out, his hips bucking uselessly into your unmoving hand. “i’ll be good..i’ll be so good.”

you finally start moving your hand again, but only just a slow torturous stroke that barely covers an inch. “too late for that,” your murmur, your voice dripping with condescension. “you had your chance to be respectful. now you get what you deserve.”

your hand moves even slower, almost still, your fingers barely curling around his length. “pathetic. begging for my hand like this.” you lean up to his ear, whispering harshly. “you’re so desperate to come, aren’t you? from just my hand?”

michael lets out a small noise, his body trembling violently as you tease him. his hands grip the sheets, knuckles white. he look at you with desperate, pleading eyes, completely undone. “yes..yes, baby, please..i need it..i need you to make me cum..” his voice breaks on the last word, a pathetic whine escaping him. “i’ll do anything..”

your smirk soften just slightly. without warning, your hand suddenly moves faster, wrapping around him properly. “just for being such a good body,” you mutter, your voice losing some of its edge.

michael gasps loudly, his his snapping up to meet your hand as you finally give him what he wants. his eyes roll back, his mouth falling open as small whimpers come falling out. his hands fly to your hair, gripping tightly as you stroke him faster. “oh god..oh fuck..baby..” he moans, his voice cracking with desperation. “don’t stop..”

you pick up the pace, your hand sliding smoothly along his length, thumb working his tip in tight circles. michael is a mess beneath you—sweat beading on his forehead, chest heaving, soft cries escaping with every stroke. “that’s it, let it out,” your murmur, watching him come undone. “such a good boy for me..”

as michael catches his breath, you don’t stop touching him. your fingers continue to toy with his sensitive tip, watching him squirm. without warning, you lean down and wrap your lips around him, sucking gently. michael cries out loudly, his hands tightening in your hair. “oh baby..”

your mouth slides further down his length, taking him deeper this time as your hand works what your lips can’t reach. you hollow your cheeks and suck hard, swirling your tongue around his shaft. michael’s entire body jerks, his moans coming out as broken, breathless cries. “so good..you’re so good..” he praises between gasps.

you start bobbing your head faster, one hand reaching to grip his thigh, pulling him deeper into your throat. michael’s thighs tremble next to your head, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair. his voice climbs higher, more desperate. “i’m gonna..fuck..i’m close..” he warns breathlessly, his hips stuttering.

you take him deeper, your throat constricting around him as you suck harder. michael cries out, his hands clutching at your head desperately. “no, no, no—i cant..” he gasps, but his hips betray him, thrusting into your mouth. “i’m gonna cum..fuck—“

your nose presses against his base as you take him as deep as you can go, your throat working around him. michael’s whole body convulses, a loud, broken moan ripping from his throat as he finally explodes inside your mouth. his hands tremble in your hair, pushing and pulling frantically as he comes hard. “fuck…baby..oh god..”

you swallow around him, sucking gently through his orgasm until he’s completely spent and pushing weakly at your forehead. you pull off with a soft pop, giving his sensitive tip a final lick. michael lies there panting, completely destroyed, his cock still twitching occasionally. “oh my god..”

you crawl back up his body, brushing the sweaty curls off his forehead. you press a soft kiss to his damp temple, watching his chest heave. “you done so good, baby,” you whisper, your voice dripping with affection, you stroke his cheek gently.

michael’s eyes flutter closed as your praise, a soft sigh escaping his lips. he turns his face into your touch, nuzzling against your palm like a cat seeking affection. his hand reaches up to cover yours, pressing it more firmly against his cheek.

you lean down to capture his lips in a slow, deep kiss. michael melts into it immediately, his mouth opening eagerly to allow your tongue inside. he kisses you back with equal intensity, his arms wrapping around your neck to pull you closer. “mmph…baby.”

you keep kissing him, drowning out his desperate whimpers as your hand wraps around his oversensitive cock. he’s still twitching from his orgasm, and gentle strokes make him flinch and moan into your mouth. “mmmh—“ he tries to pull away, overwhelmed, but your lips chase his, swallowing every sound.

your hand moves faster, stroking his sensitive length while your mouth works his lips mercilessly. michael is is mess of conflicting sensations—pleasure and overstimulation warring inside him. he tries to whine, but you kiss him deeper, tongue swirling against his as your thumb rubs tight circles around his swollen tip. “baby…” his hands grip your waist.

michael’s body tenses, his hips lifting off the bed as he tries to escape the overwhelming sensations. but you hold him down with your body weight, continuing to kiss him deeply and stroke him gently but firmly. tears prick at the corners of his eyes from the intense overstimulation.

michael gasps into your mouth, his whole body going rigid as another orgasm crashes through him before he’s even recovered. a muffled cry escapes as he comes again, spilling over your knuckles in messy bursts. his thighs shake violently next to you, his fingers digging into your waist tightly. “mmph…fuck!”

you keep stroking through his second orgasm, your mouth never leaving his, swallowing his choked cries. when he finally goes limp beneath you, completely undone and breathing ragged, you pull back slightly. his cock twitches in your hand, oversensitive. you kiss his flushed cheek. “you done so good, baby.” you praise against his lips.

michael is completely spent, his body boneless and his mind fuzzy. he allows you to pull him closer, you curling up against his side under the covers. your head rests on his shoulder, one leg thrown over his hips in a familiar, intimate position.

taglist: @swgarpeas @bluegangstaaaa @michaeljacksonspyt @cal3xx @daydreamerwithnolife @ibescrollingsoidk @mjsangell @premiumgyu @d3qrlyb3lov3d @neloa @bazaba @ranter13476 @sgl8 @artflooo @babyimhis-mj @hollowhexodyssey @daeriennlynxie

[entomology-enby]

PLEEASE OFF THE WALL MIKE SMUT he'd be so shy, needy, and handsome

Sweet Boy

otw! michael jackson x 𝒇em! reader ╱established relationship ╱ smut ╱ drabble

Era: Off the Wall

Summary: While being intimate, Reader calls Michael a nickname that flusters him.

Tags: no plot, just porn (like the wattpad writers before us intended), sub! michael, soft dom! reader, michael calls reader “baby” and “mama” (it’s basically required now), reader calls michael “baby”, “mikey”, and “sweet boy”, cunnilingus, fingering, michael is shy af, reader talking michael through it lowkey, michael asks for explicit consent (a true gentleman), Michael turned on by you tugging his hair (?)

Wordcount: 482

Masterlist

Michael’s lips found their way down your inner thighs, one of his hands tracing gently patterns on your leg. He looked up at you, hesitant. “Baby…is this fine?” He said, resting his head against your leg. Your hands reached to cup his jaw, stroking his cheek.

“You’re doing great, Mikey. Just keep doing that.” You whispered, heat pooling in your lower back as Michael continued his soft worship of your thighs. His lips trailed from your thigh to the edge of your panties, fingers reaching to move them before stopping. “Am I allowed to look…here?” His voice trailed off at the last word, his brain thinking of a much more vulgar word than “here.”

You stroked his hair gently, smirking slightly. “Look, or touch? You have to be specific baby.” You said, obviously teasing him. Michael’s face flushed looking away. “T-touch…I wanna touch you mama.” He breathed, tugging at the edge of the lace. You gently smiled, nodding your head, putting your hand over his, tugging your panties aside. Revealing your already wet slit to the cold air of the room.

Michael immediately went to press small kisses against your folds, making you gasp. Your fingers tangling in his curls as he went down on you. His lips latched around your clit, as one finger gently traced your entrance. One hand gripped your thigh as the other hand’s finger pressed into your warmth.

You writhed underneath Michael’s hold, your hands gripped his hair tighter, making him moan. His tongue continued lapping at your bundle of nerves. A mix of his own saliva and your slick running down his chin, while his finger massaged your velvety walls.

You moaned louder, your cunt dripping and throbbing under Michael’s mouth. Grinding your hips against his tongue as he ravished you. “R-right there sweet boy.” You whined, thighs clamping around his head.

Michael immediately looked up at you, eyes glazed over with confusion, his cheeks flushed and rosy. “Sweet…boy,” He whispered, breath heaving from his face and nose being buried in your cunt. “Me?” He added, resting his head against your thigh, your slick coating his lips in a clear sheen.

You giggled as Michael’s rosy cheeks, loosening your grip on his hair and caressing it. “Yes baby,” you started, tapping his nose gently. “The sweetest boy I’ve ever known.” Michael’s ears were flushed, looking so shy despite his face being in between your thighs. “I-I love you mama.” He breathed, burying his lips in your cunt once again.

You moan loudly when you felt his lips against your entrance again, rutting your hips against his mouth. Gripping the sheets of the bed, legs shuddering as your climax waves over you. Your walls spasming around his fingers. You look down at Michael, your hands now rubbing the pads of your fingers against his scalp. Your breath heavy from your climax. “I love you too, sweet boy.”

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

a/n: this is definitely shorter than I wanted it to be :(. idk how I’ve never done smut with off the wall mike before but there’s no time like the present (if it’s bad I sincerely apologize)

-xoxo, Billie Jeanne

[ghosteras]

only you | otw ! m. jackson x reader

summary: you and michael finally have that long awaited talk right before he goes on tour. warnings: rushed, lazy confessions, implied smut, michael high-key being in love with you, overall just pure fluff! <3 author's note: my first michael fic! i'm like, super rusty, but I'm genuinely happy with how this turned out! i wrote this in three hours so there's likely going to be some errors.

“I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” Michael asks softly, his fingers lazily tracing circles on the small of your back. Warmth floods your chest at his concern; you can’t help but hold him a little tighter.

"No… no,” you reassured him, adjusting your position to look at him properly. He was already looking down at you, his doe eyes gazing into yours with such warmth. “You were perfect.”

Michael hummed.

Neither of you spoke after this; the only thing that could be heard was the rhythmic tapping of the rain outside and Michael occasionally peppering kisses on your neck. Sure, the tension was gone, but the smell of sweat and passion still lingered in the air. For a while, you thought things were going to be left unsaid, until—

“What is this?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, feigning confusion. You readjusted your position to sit up, gently pulling the blanket over your breasts.

“C’mom,” He mummers. 

“Well, um,” you stammered out, scooting back towards Michael’s headboard—the cold cedar wood now touching your back.  “What do you want this to be?”

“Look,” he scoots back against the headboard to join you. “I really like you.” He reveals, as if it’s been a secret this whole time. “I-I completely understand if you don’t feel the same—with me about to be on tour and all. I just.. I don’t know, I couldn’t just leave without telling you how I felt.”

“God, Michael,” you say finally, releasing the breath you didn’t even know that you were holding. You scooted closer to him, gently placing your hand on his cheek. “I’ve quite literally been in love with you for years. I’m pretty sure everyone has noticed but you.”

Michael blinked at your confession, but his disbelief soon turned into laughter. He dragged his hand down his face before looking at you, a soft smile forming on his lips. “What exactly have we been doing this whole time?”

“I don’t know,” you giggled, running your fingers through his soft curls. “I just can’t believe it took this,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. “For us to say something.”

Michael’s smile had only gotten wider by the second. Rather than speaking, he gently pulled you in, his soft lips finally connecting with yours. You immediately reciprocated, running your fingers deeper through his curls—earning a soft whimper from him. Before things could escalate further, Michael pulls away, his brown eyes gazing into yours.

“Come on tour with me.”

“What?” You blinked, moving away a strand of hair from your face.

“Come on tour with me,” he repeats. “I want you there—only if you want to, of course. I don’t want to force you.”

“What about Joesph?”

“I’ll talk to him,” he says immediately, his thumb caressing your cheek. “Just—come with me. Please.”

You searched Michael’s eyes to find any reluctance, but you didn’t see any. He actually wanted you there. He wanted you there with him. Finally, your concern turned into a soft smile—placing a quick, but affectionate kiss on his lips. 

“I’d love to go on tour with you, Michael.“

[russianblush]

unfortunately him playing a toxic asshole is hot as hell

[veliriumm]

hi girly i love ur way of writing sm and ur fics so i came to ask u for this bc ikkkkkkk you deliver good, so im thinking about like thriller/off the way era mike , and reader and him feel like sex is too mach so they just be rubbing their shi raw, like butt naked no clouths on no shiii they be rubbing aginst eachother and maybe just mike teasing with just the tip in , sorry to bing filthy but this has been going HEAVY on my miiiiind (first time asking a diva for a req kida nervous)

bf!mike who wants to stay pure, but reader just gets him too hot and bothered .ᐟ

can they find a compromise .ᐣ

a/n - hi i love ur mind, jessie we NEED to cook

established relationship

cw - religion mentioned, just the tip!, sweetie pie mike & reader, dry (wet) humping, i mean read the req, thats whats abt to happen wink

also ignore the pink theme, i know i reserve that for perv mike but in my defense i waassss gonna make this apart of that, but it didnt make sense in the long run

god, please give him strength.

"but mikey," you say, luringly, hands smoothing over his half undone button up. "we love each other, how is it sin?" you mumble pitifully, adjusting your sit on his lap slightly.

his eyes drift over your pouty lips, still puffy from his prior attack. you look edible, gluttony lingers around his gentle grip on your hips, he fights it with every coercive word you say.

"i do love you, but we need to be married, baby." he tries to sound assured, but the slight waver doesnt miss you.

your head tilts, he looks at you sharply, knowing youre on to something hes unsure he'll be able to say no to.

you cant help the small smile streching your features, "we dont have to go all the way, what if we just..." you pause, figuring hes more likely to say no if you say it, so you just do it.

your hips lift up half way, before easing back down in a slide on his crotch. electricity zaps up your spine at the movement, your boldness taking both of you by surprise.

his lips trap his bottom lip instantly, hardly holding the grunt that threatened release.

his grip tightens.

"y/n..." he draws with warning, but making no effort to stop you.

you tentatively rise again, but instead of grinding back down, you stay up, waiting for him to move you off...but he doesnt.

shyness creeps up his skin, as he looks away. his vice grip on you tightens impossibly, as he wordlessly brings you down, directly on his hardening crotch.

you gasp slightly, but you grind quickly again, as to not lose the moment.

this unfamiliar indulgence of lust blinds michael, as he grinds up on you, hes never felt this warm. your soft whimpers cascade gently through the room, as your humps quicken.

hes practically gasping with every quick, sophomoric grind. one of his hands detatch, unsteadily exploring the clothed expanse of your body, whilst the other stays planted—half guiding your movements, half tethering himself to you—to reality; that this was, infact, happening.

your hands are finding themselves under the button up, michael groans at your firey touch.

"please—off!" you whine, tugging at the bottom of the shirt, his stomach flexes at your words. he pauses hesitantly, you notice, youre quick to bring your lips to his cheek, drifting down by his ear "i need you mikey, please..." you whine, lips connecting to his neck.

he shudders.

"barely seen you! jus' wanna look." you mumble between the litter of kisses.

he huffs, is this jehovah himself testing his resolve? cause this is purely cruel.

he nods.

you grin, planting a final kiss on his lips, before leaning back to reach for the hem, michael lifts slightly to assist in getting the article off. which is quick to the floor.

his cheeks burn, as he watches your curious gaze.

youre hands trace down his sternum, causing his breath to catch.

he swallows, scratching the back of his neck quietly. "your turn?" he whispers meekly.

you giggle softly, nodding.

god, you look so adorable with your flushed cheeks, he watches your small hands lift your sweater off. he nearly flinches as your bra catches the light. plush breasts cradled by lacy purple—is it silly that he feels jealous over a bra?

he shakes his head of the ridiculous juvenile thought.

his eyes scan slowly over you, from your shy gaze locked on the headbored behind him, to the dip of your collar bone, his eyes haze slightly at the alluring swell of your tits, rising and falling shakily from your uneven breaths. he begrudgingly drops his eyesight, to the dropping curve of your waist meeting your hips. his finger lifts, absentmindedly drawing along said dip. your brows crook upwards at the teasing touch, goosebumps rise in the wake of.

his finger moves north, finding the strap of your bra. he stares with a look you cant quite read, before abruptly breaking the heated silence. "its not a sin to look...its...its natural." he says with a clear of his throat, flicking the flimsy strap gently back to your warm skin.

you nearly ask him to repeat himself, unbelieving michael; the most timid man youve ever met, is asking you to take your bra off.

you blink, before nodding, hands reaching to unclasp the garment.

your eyes drop. frankly, scared to see michaels reaction.

the brisk air hardens your nipples, michael watches silently.

"youre...youre beautiful." he mutters.

you swallow thickly.

you feel him shift under you, sitting up, soon his hand on your back, breath on your neck. he pulls you closer to him, lips latching on your pulse as you whine.

finding his shoulders, you arch into his touch, causing a small groan to your neck.

as hes working his lips on you, you press your hips down on his once again.

in a slur of grasping hands, and desperation. you both ended up bare. michael truly didnt mean for it to come this far, but how could he reject the innate need for connection? lust? yes—sinful, but if you don't go all the way, it's technically not a sin.

for being a sinner, he sure does feel heavenly with you on top of him, cute wide eyes locked on his large, hard cock.

he watches through hooded eyes, as you bite your lip, your inexperienced fingers trace down his abdomen. before you can even land where you so desperately wanted to, michaels quick to catch your wrist in his hand.

his breath hitches at the lingering;teasing feel of you, as he looks up. you give him a deliciously curious gaze, he smiles, bringing your wrist to his lips, your perfuming whirring through his senses, before he presses a soft kiss.

"dont want you doin' all the work." he mumbles his flimsy excuse.

you buzz slightly at his words, nodding.

he uses his vantage on your arm to gently pull you down to meet his lips.

"i want you—all of you—i swear i do, but we oughta do it properly." his sigh fans across your pouty lips.

you nod again, deciding this wasnt a battle you wanted to fight at the moment, already content with how far youd managed to come.

he smiled softly at your easy acceptance. a long pause settles between you two, before michaels qauiet words redirect your attention.

"we could still...grind on each other. if youd like?" he says mousily. you light up instantly, nodding.

his hips raise tentatively, before youre quick to meet him, you slide his long length through your weeping folds in a swift motion.

michael gasps, hands quick to your waist.

a sharp whimper falls from both of your lips, as the burgundy tip catches on your entrance.

instinctively michael pulls your hips down slightly, nearly breaching your entrance, before the cloud of lust dissipates enough for him to move back an inch, opting to grind your pearl along him.

your mouth drops open at that, poor little hole clenching around nothing.

you brace yourself with your hands on his broad shoulders as you lift with his moves.

grinding back down, he moans out, head falling back slightly.

his leaky cock is blanketed in a sheen of your essence, he could weep watching your eager movements along him.

everything is warm, every move driven purely by adoration and adrenaline. he can already feel his release building up.

"please mikey...i want to feel you. i love you." you say abruptly, causing michael to whine.

"o—okay, jus'," his breath falters as you buck your hips quicker—you are a siren of desire, luring him into the depths of desire. "just the tip...its not full way...its not bad" he mutters, more so to convince himself, than you.

he raises from his laxed position on his elbows, to his palms, as you strainfully raise your hips over his cock.

he clutchs the bedsheets below him, as he lets you take him into your small grasp, aligning him up to your weeping hole.

the pearly white gates of heaven flash brightly through his mind, as he enters you. he can damn near hear the trumpets, over your shaky whimper.

this is what he was made for.

he lifts an arm to hug you to him, your tits pressing against him is the least of the overwhelming flood of you.

"please—oh god!" he cries out, his grip on you nearly bruising as he fights every single voice begging him to sink you fully down, in one quick succession. he wants oh so bad to burry himself in your tight gummy walls, and lewdly paint them white as you sigh seductively above him.

but he could never forgive himself—god would never.

but oh fuck you feel so good.

he moves you up, then down ever so slightly. his mushroom tip fully immersed in you.

his eyes squeeze shut, before blinking open. he focuses on your withering figure against him. gaze dropping to your neglected bead, his other hand finds it. rubbing small quick circles.

you fall apart, the dam in your core combusts, washing over your exposed skin. lapping at the heightened nerves of your release, as you clench tightly around michaels tip.

he watches your wanton face, as it morphs through the fazes of pure ecstasy. hes never seen anything more beautiful.

he wants more, more of your love, of your touch, of your release. but he cant even adress those thoughts before his own finish line is crashed through.

he moves out of you—in a blink, he has your back to the matress, as his cum squirts along the expance of your stomach. he cries out, as he paints your soft skin milky white.

the devil has won.

a/n - ok u can totally tell this was written at 3am, please exuse the horrid writting; if you just dont read super in depth then all will be good!!!!

not proofread i am SO sorry lmao i can not for a life of me reread this nightmare, also sorry again if this is choppy i miggggggght be as high as the empire state, speazking of which trump made the knicks lose AUUGGGHHH. its ok tho mamdani will fix it mashallah knicks in 5

also sorry for my inactivity BUT IM DIALED IN ON ASKS!! when i wake up i promise ill pump out actually coherent pieces!!

im sure ill have post blunt clarity about this post later but wtv GOODNIGHT

[j4ckr4bbits]

[lustfully] GODDDD FUCKKKK HE'S SO OLD