@ikeumiu ‘𝓈 𝑟𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ݁₊
Jules of Nature
occasionally subtle
Stranger Things
Today's Document

if i look back, i am lost
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
$LAYYYTER
trying on a metaphor



Product Placement

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
we're not kids anymore.

Janaina Medeiros
Keni
AnasAbdin
d e v o n
will byers stan first human second
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
seen from Sri Lanka
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United Kingdom

seen from Canada

seen from Italy
seen from Chile
seen from Australia
seen from Belarus

seen from Malaysia

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Brazil
seen from Malaysia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Singapore

seen from T1

seen from France
@dearyun
@ikeumiu ‘𝓈 𝑟𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 ݁₊

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
your neighbour thinks you’re cheating on leon wc: 1.48k ┋ sequel to calling leon by his middle name (18+)
the day was really bright and sunny to stay indoors. and with you at work, leon had been bored to death. and then he thought, might as well do something productive, right? his car had last been washed three weeks ago. now that wouldn’t do. that made leon get his ass up and outside.
the good weather had even brought the elderly neighbours outside. mr. ashford, the old man in his late sixties, was mowing the lawn while his wife sat on the porch, reading a book. when he spotted leon, he gave a polite nod, which leon returned.
and then he began washing his car, dragging the hose across the driveway, the rubber snaking and catching against the concrete until it reached the car. when he twisted the nozzle, the water burst out in sharp hiss, splattering against the hood of the car.
even as leon dunked the sponge into the bucket at his feet, all his mind could think about was you and what happened last night. you had so prettily moaned not his name, but his middle name. scott. and he’d loved it. hell, he’d even blushed. and you had teased him all night long.
the memory itself brought a faint flush and smile on his face. he looked around to see if anyone noticed, and his gaze locked with mr. ashford for a second. now that just wouldn’t do. he shook his head slightly, as if to shoo the memory away. and then he resumed washing his car, crouching slightly to scrub the lower panels, where dirt clung more stubbornly, streaked from the last rain.
when he rinsed it all off, the suds slid away in sheets, revealing the paint underneath. darker, cleaner, almost gleaming. he tilted the nozzle, chasing away the last patches of soap, until the water ran clear and smooth over the surface.
for a moment, he just stood there, hose still in hand, watching the droplets gather and fall, the car looking almost new again. “there,” leon patted the bonnet of the car, feeling proud. “as good as new again.”
around the same time, mr. ashford turned off his lawn mower. the sudden silence filled the air, making leon look his way. mr. ashford, as leon recalled, was usually the introvert and rarely struck up a conversation with him. but today, he did look like he wanted to say something but was hesitating. but leon was not the type to approach people either, so he decided to let it go.
he picked up the hose and dragged it back towards the water source. when he came back, he picked up the bucket that had soapy water in it, and started walking back inside the house, climbing the porch steps.
“leon!” a voice interrupted from behind, making leon stop and turn around. he placed the bucket back on the ground and walked back to his driveway, where mr. ashford stood now.
“morning, mr. ashford. how can i help ya?”
“hey, um... can i ask you something? it’s a bit personal...”
leon was mildly confused but polite, and nodded. “sure.”
“just wanted to check in... everything okay between you and your wife?” mr. ashford asked calmly, though he looked very awkward. it was evident the old man did not want to have this conversation.
that made leon frown, genuienly trying to figure out where was this coming from. he could say mr. ashford wasn’t being nosy, he wasn’t that kind of neighbour, but why was leon’s marriage his business? “yeah... why?”
mr. ashford begins in a awkward low voice, “i don’t want to overstep... but i- uh... i heard your wife and she was-” but then he trails off, embarrassed.
leon still didn’t get it. what did you do last night? “heard her what?” he asked.
“she- uh, she was calling someone else’s name...”
“what?” leon asked, dumbfoundedly.
“yeah... she said scott. more than once.”
one could see the realisation dawning on leon’s face immediately. the confusion, then the processing of the information, and mr. ashford’s awkward behavior finally clicking in place.
now, leon absolutely does not explain. his sex life wasn’t anybody’s business. he just gives a small, controlled nod. “right... yeah, i’ll keep an eye on that,” he says bumblingly, a hand scratching the back of his neck.
“let me know if you need any help, alright?” mr. ashford pats leon on the arm and walks away, thinking he did a good deed by telling him about his wife’s supposed infidelity.
leon is left standing there, half amused and half embarrassed. all he could think was: oh my god, she was that loud. and he could feel his face flushing up all over again.
he picks up the bucket and goes back inside. he spends the rest of the time thinking how he’s going to break it to you when you come home from work, and he keeps laughing in amusement throughout.
a few hours later, when you come back home from work in the evening, leon is sitting on the couch, looking all serious. the house was all quiet. normally, leon would be watching tv and drinking some beer occasionally but the silence makes you pause in your tracks. hesitatingly, you remove your shoes, and walk inside, keeping your work bag on the console table.
“everything okay?” you ask softly, plopping to the couch next to him.
“no.”
the stern answer catches you off guard. “...okay. what’s wrong?”
“we need to talk,” leon says calmly, but his expression betraying nothing. it almost made you nervous. what the fuck did you do? what happened? a thousand thoughts running inside your mind currently, and none of them comforted you.
“okay... go ahead,” you say, trying to hide your irritation away. why was he acting this way?
“the neighbour told me you were cheating on me. said he heard you take some guy’s name,” leon finally told you, his face all stoic and emotionless.
“the fuck?” the curse left your mouth before you could form a proper response. “why would he say something like that?”
“yeah, he said so. he came up to me this morning after i was done washing the car and asked if everything was alright between us,” leon recounted what happened in the morning. though not fully. he was having too much fun, and struggling to keep his face from breaking out into a smile. “seriously, though. if you were so unhappy with me you could’ve just said it. there was no need to go behind my back.”
“the fuck are you talking about? i am not cheating on you! you know it,” you said, a little more harshly than what was needed.
“well, i recall the neighbour telling me something else, so...”
“oh fuck that old man. he’s obviously lying! and i can’t believe you chose to believe him!” you were on your feet, about to go back outside and at the ashford’s to ask why would he lie to leon. but before you could do that, leon breaks out into a laugh, which makes you stop and turn around to look at him.
“you... you baboon!” you gasped when the realisation dawned on you. “it wasn’t funny!”
but leon kept on laughing, as if it was the funniest thing in the world. “baboon?” he said through the laughter. “sweetheart, that’s new—ow! don’t hit me, i’m fragile.”
“if you ever try to fuck with me like that again, you’re going to sleep on the couch for a month.”
that makes leon stop laughing instantly. and all the amusement was gone as well. “you’re joking.” but knowing you, you weren’t. “fine. i’m sorry.” he cracked a mischevious smile again. “but it was funny. the neighbour thought you were cheating on me.”
“what?” you whipped your head right back towards him. “i thought you were joking?”
“yes—i mean, no. well he thinks you’re cheating on me with a guy named scott. he heard you moaning it last night.”
your face flushed with embarrassment at that, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “wait... was i that loud?”
“apparently. though it’s a good thing ashfords aren’t nosey. or it would become a neighbourhood scandal by now,” he scoffs in amusement.
“it isn’t funny!” you chided, still embarrassed, but broke into a disbelieving laugh yourself. “maybe a little bit.”
leon grins widely. another idea pops in his mind. “sooo wanna fuck before your husband gets back home?” he says, voice low and conspiratorial.
“oh god!” you giggled, smacking leon’s chest again. “seriously? you wanna roleplay about this?”
“why not?” he says smoothly, beaming with amusement. “your husband isn’t home. perfect time for us to sneak in into the bedroom and for you to let me have me have my way with you.”
“fine,” you play along, equally amused. “but maybe be a little gentler this time, scott. the neighbours already suspect i’m cheating on my husband.”
© seribun. all rights reserved. do not plagiarise/redistribute my content or feed it into ai.
BABY FEVER ✶ 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎
❨ 𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ❩ ' 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎’𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇’ 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗎𝖻𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗇𝗇𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖼𝗍𝗈𝗋’𝗌 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇’ “𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝖺 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇’ 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾, 𝖽𝖺𝖽?” 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒’𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍
PREMISE ❛ 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗏𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗈, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗎𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖾’𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗏𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒.
🥟 ── 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁𝘀 。 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 ! 𝖾𝗇𝗁𝗒𝗉𝖾𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 ! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ✶ㅤ 0.5𝗄 ⠀: 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗅𝗈𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀 ⋆ 𝖭𝖠𝖵𝖨𝖦𝖠𝖳𝖨𝖮𝖭
LEE HEESEUNG
It always starts so subtly with him that you don’t even realize you’re being reeled into his little trap until you’re already stuck there, which is honestly so typical of how he operates. He’ll be sitting on the floor playing some video game, completely locked in, but the second a diaper commercial comes on or you happen to mention how cute your cousin’s new baby is, he drops the controller entirely without a second thought. Suddenly, he’s moving over to the couch, pulling you into his lap, and resting his chin on your shoulder while he whines about how he thinks he’d make a really amazing dad because he’s already so patient and good at taking care of you. He acts all soft and natural about it, whispering into your ear about choosing names and building a nursery, completely weaponizing his bambi eyes to leave you totally defenseless against the idea.
Hihii I read ur jake dad au can you make more?? I love it smm preferably boy dad Jake hehehe!! loveuuu
haircut — sim jaeyun
pairing : husband!jake x wife!reader, dad!jake x mom!reader | synopsis : jake and jaehyun go get a haircut | genre : fluff, slice-of-life, established relationship | wc : 0.6k | an : thanks you guys so much for the all the love on the first dad!jake fic, hope you like this one too!! | 💌 |
ex for a reason : 06 the sunghoon niche
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : if it was socially acceptable i’d lowkey update this daily
taglist : @noirellee @luv444erin @ikeumiu @simjaeyunlvrclub @isoobie @woninlove @writtenbysunoo @riiseiis @gownluvr @honeymoonave777 @asaapjwons @ikeuikkeu @rijakecentral @zenhypen @bamgyooooo @wonkiipiilled @jxqk3 @bensabrifirildak @1009beats @kikizzz0 @scarredbytheworld @amb4rluvs @jazzygirlengene @whoisovee @breadlover01 @stealthyutopiaabyss @zoe1love @softblaqn @dina-10s-blog @xerophyides @lingxio @lili-thewriter @ikeu05 @saaaaaaaai

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ex for a reason : 05 trying to impress sunghoon community
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : jakeyn finally meet yay
ex tra
taglist : @noirellee @luv444erin @ikeumiu @simjaeyunlvrclub @isoobie @woninlove @writtenbysunoo @riiseiis @gownluvr @honeymoonave777 @asaapjwons @ikeuikkeu @rijakecentral @zenhypen @bamgyooooo @wonkiipiilled @jxqk3 @bensabrifirildak @1009beats @kikizzz0 @scarredbytheworld @amb4rluvs @jazzygirlengene @whoisovee @breadlover01 @stealthyutopiaabyss @zoe1love @softblaqn @xerophyides
THEY METTTTTT
and i like em with pretty big eyes …
— just a michael loving his doe eyed girl.
authors note: bambi x bambi anyone ?
music
michael returns home after a demanding day in the studio, fatigued and a bit hungry, she shuts the door and immediately calls out for his safe space.
“angel? im home!” he trudges in further and finds you in the bedroom, curled in on yourself as you try to paint your toes. he smiles at the sight.
when you look up and grin at him, his heart almost stops, your eyes twinkle like stars and are filled with life and love all for him. theyre big and the perfect shade of brown that shimmers in the sunlight.
“god, thats my favorite thing ever.” he mumbles as he settles beside where your perched on the floor.
“what is, sweet boy?”
his face flushes as he chuckles. “your eyes… theyre beautiful.”
you look up again and smile. “Thanks mikey, your eyes are beautiful too.”
“not more than yours.”
“nooo..”
“yesss..”
“nooo..”
“okay okay, stop before we go on forever.” he laughs.
ex for a reason : 04 #simforsale
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : opiuons STUNS by turning 20 #shethebirthday
taglist : @noirellee @luv444erin @ikeumiu @simjaeyunlvrclub @isoobie @woninlove @chuuchuutrain1009 @riiseiis @gownluvr @honeymoonave777 @asaapjwons @ikeuikkeu @rijakecentral @zenhypen @bamgyooooo @wonkiipiilled @jxqk3 @bensabrifirildak @1009beats @kikizzz0 @scarredbytheworld @amb4rluvs
ִֶָ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚ barista | michael jackson ۶ৎ˖ִ ˚
michael had gone into the coffee shop since it was raining heavly. his hair was wet, bill was already complaining about standing outside, and it happened to be the closest place nearby to the studio. he wasn’t paying much attention when he stepped inside, shaking the rain from his jacket, until he looked up and saw you behind the counter.
you were decorating one of the pastries in the display case and was completely focused on what you were doing. your brows were slightly furrowed, qnd you looked cute. it wasn’t anything extraordinary, if anything, it was ordinary. but for some reason, michael couldn’t stop looking.
“michael.”
bill’s voice made him blink.
“what?”
“the line.”
sure enough, there was a line forming behind him. by the time michael reached the register, you’d moved on from the pastries and were taking orders. when you looked up, you offered him a small smile.
“hi. what can i get for you?” you said, slightly blushing since you recognized who michael was.
the problem was that michael had spent the last five minutes looking at you instead of the menu. he glanced up at the board behind you, pretending to read it while his mind went completely blank.
you must’ve noticed because you smiled again.
“take your time.”
eventually he managed to order, and you scribbled something onto the side of the cup before passing it. while he waited, he found himself watching you work. you moved quickly but carefully, thanking customers and quietly helping a little kid decide which muffin he wanted.
when his drink was ready, you handed it over with another polite smile, a small blush on your face.
“have a good day.”
it was probably the same thing you’d said to every customer that morning, but michael spent the entire drive home thinking about it anyway.
halfway there, bill glanced over and noticed him staring at the coffee cup.
“what?”
michael turned it slightly, and next to his name you had drawn a tiny heart.
bill looked at it and glanced up at michael and simply said “you’re gonna come back tomorrow, aren’t you?”
michael looked down at the cup again.
“…maybe.”
Partition - a love of a lifetime series.
Summary: Y/N is releasing her new song Partition and her husband Michael is wanting to be in the music video.
Authors note: Guys. I’ve reworked one of my fics I’ve had sitting there.. based on a couple of requests I got recently (thank you!). Im screaming and kicking my feet.
This is probs one of my steamier fics (no explicit content)
Based on Partition by Beyoncé (yes I know it’s not of the time. Let me live in fantasy) and features short hair Michael from the MTV music awards in 1995. He makes me deeply unwell with that hair. Enjoy!
~~~~~~~~~~
LA, 1995
The studio speakers pulsed with bass as Y/N replayed the rough cut of her newest single for the fifth time that afternoon.
The entire album felt different from anything she had done before—slick, sensual, playful. Turning thirty had shifted something in her. She wanted confidence. Ownership. Music that felt feminine and dangerous and entirely hers.
And Michael loved every second of it.
He lounged across the couch in the studio with his black fedora tipped low, long legs crossed, smiling to himself while she moved around the room explaining concepts with animated hands.
“You look happy doing this,” he said softly.
“I am happy doing this.”
“And the music’s good” he added quickly, pointing at her. “Real good.”
She grinned. “You just like watching me dance.”
“That too.”
Everything stayed perfect until the label brought up the music video for the lead single.
Partition.
The treatment was spread across the table between them. Vintage car. Parisian club aesthetic. Corsets. Silk gloves. A mysterious male love interest in the backseat with her.
Michael’s smile vanished line by line.
“So…” he said carefully. “This man touches you?”
Y/N blinked. “Michael—”
“In lingerie?”
“It’s acting.”
His jaw tightened behind those signature dark glasses. Dangerous rehearsals had already swallowed most of his life, and the idea of another man all over Y/N while the entire world watched clearly ignited something territorial in him.
Her manager sighed immediately. “Oh no.”
Michael ignored everyone.
“I’ll do it.”
The room froze.
“Michael…” his publicist nearly choked. “Absolutely not.”
“You’re about to start the another tour” another warned. “This image does not fit—”
“I said I’ll do it.”
The quiet authority in his voice ended the discussion.
He turned toward Y/N then, softer instantly.
“If somebody’s gonna look at you like that” he murmured, “it’s gonna be me.”
And Y/N.
She nearly melted into the floor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Nobody on the Partition set expected the footage to feel so dangerous.
Not because of the lingerie. Not because of the choreography. Not even because Michael Jackson had agreed to appear in a video far more sensual than anything audiences associated with him publicly.
It was the energy between him and Y/N that changed everything.
The entire concept had originally been built around flirtation and fantasy.
But the second cameras started rolling, something far more intense settled over the production.
Possession. Devotion. The unmistakable feeling that Michael did not enjoy sharing Y/N with the room—even performatively.
The opening breakfast sequence only hinted at it.
Morning light spilled across the elegant set while Y/N moved alone through the kitchen in one of his white button-down shirts, silk slipping against bare skin while untouched coffee cooled on the table beside her.
Michael wasn’t fully visible yet.
Only fragments appeared onscreen.
A black-clad figure passing behind her. A man reading a newspaper.
The audience was meant to recognize him slowly.
And they absolutely would.
Because no matter how carefully the framing hid his face, Michael’s presence dominated every shot anyway.
Especially in the details.
The black silk sleeves. The familiar hands. The unmistakable posture.
One camera assistant quietly muttered: “This is surreal.” The atmosphere shifted completely once the limousine scenes began filming.
Michael sat alone beneath low amber lighting in the partitioned backseat wearing all black—tailored trousers, fitted silk shirt, dark aviators concealing his eyes while gold jewelry flashed subtly against his skin.
He looked controlled.
Until Y/N entered the car.
Then every ounce of restraint became visibly deliberate.
Crew members noticed immediately how physical he became around her without instruction. His hand constantly found her waist. Her hip. The bare skin just above her stockings.
Not aggressively.
Instinctively.
Like touching her grounded him.
The cameras captured it beautifully and almost uncomfortably well.
One particular setup became infamous among the crew almost immediately.
Y/N sat beside him in the limousine while the music pulsed softly through hidden speakers, her legs crossing slowly beneath the slit of black fabric. Michael’s hand rested against her thigh almost casually at first.
Then his fingers moved.
Slowly tracing along the lace edge of her thigh-high stockings.
The monitor room went silent.
Because the movement felt absentmindedly intimate—as though he’d forgotten the cameras existed entirely.
And if viewers paused at exactly the right frame later, they’d notice something else too.
A faint glimpse of the small ‘y/n’ tattoo hidden near Michael’s ring finger as his hand slid against her stocking.
Tiny. Almost impossible to catch.
But there.
The detail would later send fans into complete hysteria.
During filming, though, nobody behind the monitors was thinking about tattoos.
They were too distracted by the way Michael looked at her.
There was no performance in it.
No exaggerated music-video seduction.
It looked territorial.
The kind of attention that made the entire limousine suddenly feel too small for anyone else to be inside it.
At one point Y/N shifted naturally closer during a scene transition, laughing quietly between takes while adjusting his collar.
Michael’s hand immediately slid higher along her thigh in response, thumb pressing against the lace edge of her stocking while he tilted his head toward her like the rest of the room had disappeared.
Nobody called cut.
Nobody wanted to interrupt whatever was happening onscreen.
The footage felt magnetic.
Not polished. Not calculated.
Private.
That was what unsettled the crew most.
Michael had always been carefully managed publicly; soft-spoken, elusive, controlled beneath layers of celebrity mystique.
But in this environment, around Y/N, another side surfaced entirely.
One that watched her too closely. Touched her too possessively. Looked at her like he physically disliked distance.
The dance sequence inside the partitioned limousine pushed that tension even further.
Y/N moved between his knees beneath dark red lighting while Michael remained seated watching her, bare hands sliding slowly along her thigh in time with the music.
The choreography itself wasn’t especially explicit.
His reactions were.
The slight tilt of his head whenever she touched him. His fingers tightening subtly at her waist. The way he leaned toward her every single time she pulled away.
The camera operators started intentionally lingering on him because his restraint looked more provocative than the choreography itself.
One producer finally whispered what everyone had been thinking for hours:
“He looks obsessed with her.”
And honestly— there wasn’t another word for it.
By the end of filming, the atmosphere on set had changed completely.
Nobody was watching a pop star cameo in his wife’s music video anymore.
They were watching two people with years of history, attraction, devotion and possessiveness trying and failing to tone it down enough for public release.
Which was exactly why the finished video shocked the world so badly.
Because audiences weren’t reacting to simulated chemistry.
They were reacting to something that looked undeniably real.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The MTV Music Awards had already been loud that night.
But the second Y/N’s name appeared across the massive screen behind the stage, the entire arena shifted.
Because everyone knew.
Everyone had seen the Partition video. Everyone had dissected the chemistry. Everyone wanted to know if Michael Jackson would react.
And the camera found him immediately.
Front row.
Black leather jacket. Silver details catching the lights. Short curls soft around his face. Those familiar dark glasses hiding his eyes, though not nearly enough.
He crossed one leg over the other casually as applause erupted around him, trying to look unaffected.
He failed before the performance even started.
The stage went dark.
Then— a low bassline rolled through the arena.
A single spotlight illuminated Y/N at the top of a long staircase draped in barely anything, crystal lingerie and gold lighting. Diamonds that Michael bought her glittering against her throat. The crowd exploded instantly.
Michael leaned forward.
“Oh no” one of his security muttered quietly beside him.
Because they knew that posture.
That was not Michael Jackson the King of Pop anymore.
That was Michael watching his wife.
And those were two very different people.
Y/N descended the staircase slowly, every movement smooth and controlled, dancers surrounding her like shadows while the audience screamed louder with every beat.
The cameras cut back to Michael again.
Big mistake.
Because he looked completely captivated already.
One hand covering his mouth. Head tilted slightly. Trying and failing not to smile.
“Oh, he’s gone” a celebrity seated behind him laughed.
The performance only got worse for him from there.
By the second verse, Y/N was fully enjoying herself.
She danced across the stage with deliberate confidence, teasing the audience, teasing the cameras— teasing him.
And every single time she glanced toward the front row, Michael reacted instinctively.
A grin. A quiet laugh. Looking down at the floor for a second like he needed to collect himself.
The audience noticed immediately.
So did the broadcast director.
Which meant the camera kept returning to him over and over again.
At one point Y/N slid onto a chair during the choreography and crossed her legs slowly to the music.
Michael physically leaned back in his seat and dragged a hand down his face.
The crowd lost their minds.
“He cannot HANDLE this” someone screamed near the stage.
And honestly?
They were right.
Because despite decades of performing in front of millions of people, despite the screaming crowds and sold out stadiums and global fame— Michael still looked devastatingly human when it came to Y/N.
Especially when she looked at him like that.
Then came the final verse.
And suddenly Y/N started walking toward the front of the stage.
Toward him.
Michael straightened immediately.
“Oh no…” he whispered under his breath, already smiling nervously.
She stopped directly at the edge of the stage, eyes locked on him beneath the gold lights while the music softened.
The audience went dead quiet in anticipation.
“He likes to call me…” she sang slowly.
Michael shook his head once, already suspicious.
Then she smiled.
“Ms. Jackson when we get this nasty.” As she flips her hair and struts back in full confidence.
The arena erupted so violently it nearly drowned out the music.
People stood up screaming. Celebrities clutched each other. One camera operator audibly yelled “OH MY GOD.”
And Michael— Michael completely broke.
He dropped his head into both hands laughing in disbelief while the crowd roared around him. When he finally looked back up at Y/N, he was blushing so hard beneath the stage lights it was visible even through the distance.
She just winked.
Winked.
“Y’all see what I gotta deal with?” he laughed breathlessly toward nobody in particular.
By the final chorus the entire audience was on their feet.
But Michael barely noticed any of them.
He watched Y/N like she was the only person in the room.
Proud. Completely enamored. A little overwhelmed.
And very, very turned on.
When the performance finally ended, Y/N held her pose center stage while confetti rained from the ceiling and the crowd screamed loud enough to shake the theater.
The cameras cut to Michael one final time.
Still standing. Still applauding. Still smiling like an absolute fool behind those dark glasses.
And for the first time all night, he didn’t even try to hide it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hours later, the afterparty still buzzed behind them somewhere deep in the city.
Music. Champagne. Industry people talking too loudly. Questions neither of them wanted to answer.
But inside the waiting car, everything finally went quiet.
The privacy partition slid closed with a soft mechanical hum as Michael leaned back against the leather seat, exhaling deeply for what felt like the first time all night.
The tension of the performance still clung to him.
Y/N could see it in the loosened jacket hanging open around his throat, in the flush still lingering beneath his skin from the stage lights and endless attention. His curls were slightly messy from people constantly touching him backstage, shorter hair soft around his face in a way she found unfairly attractive.
He looked exhausted.
And completely wired at the same time.
Michael rubbed a hand over his mouth before looking at her beside him.
“You almost killed me tonight” he muttered finally.
Y/N laughed softly, slipping off one heel and tucking her legs beneath her. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
His voice still carried that dazed disbelief he’d worn ever since the “Mrs. Jackson” lyric.
She smiled innocently.
“You liked it.”
Michael looked at her for a long moment over the edge of his sunglasses.
Then gave a quiet scoff.
“Woman…” he murmured, shaking his head. “You knew exactly what you were doin’ to me out there.”
“Maybe a little.”
“A little?” He laughed breathlessly. “They kept puttin’ cameras on me every five seconds. I couldn’t even hide.”
“That’s because your reactions were better than the show.”
Michael groaned dramatically and leaned his head back against the seat.
“I hate you.”
“No. you don’t.” She said prettily.
“No” he admitted immediately. “I really don’t.”
The city blurred outside the windows in streaks of gold and white as silence settled comfortably between them for a moment.
Then Michael suddenly leaned forward toward the stereo.
And Y/N already knew that look.
“Oh no.”
His fingers turned the volume knob.
The opening bassline of Partition slid through the speakers.
Y/N burst into laughter instantly.
“Michael!”
“What?” he asked innocently, settling back beside her. “Thought maybe we should study the material.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“I’m supportive” he corrected smoothly.
“Supportive?”
“Very.”
The grin tugging at his mouth was impossible to miss now.
He shifted closer until his arm slid naturally behind her shoulders, pulling her into his side while the music played softly around them.
And just like that, the mood changed again.
Not suddenly.
Slowly.
The adrenaline of the evening melted into something warmer and more private.
Michael’s fingers traced absent patterns along her waist while he watched her quietly, expression softening beneath the tinted aviators.
“You looked so beautiful tonight,” he said after a while, voice lower now. “Couldn’t stop lookin’ at you.”
The sincerity in it made her smile fade into something gentler.
“You looked pretty good yourself, Mr. Jackson.”
His eyebrow lifted immediately. “The short hair?”
“The short hair.”
“I knew you liked it.”
“You’ve been unbearable ever since you cut it.”
Michael laughed softly under his breath, clearly pleased with himself.
The car dipped through another turn, city lights flashing across his face in quick fragments gold jewelry, dark lenses, the sharp line of his jaw.
God, he looked good tonight.
Dangerously good.
And he knew it now too.
“You were lookin’ at me during the performance,” he accused lightly.
“I was performing.”
“Mhm.”
“I was.”
“Baby” he said, smiling knowingly, “you almost climbed into my lap in front of America.”
She laughed so hard she nearly tipped into his shoulder.
“Well maybe if you didn’t look so good sitting there”
Michael made a quiet victorious sound beneath his breath and pulled her closer immediately.
“There it is.”
“Oh shut up.”
But she was smiling when she said it.
His hand slid slowly along her side beneath the fabric of her dress, fingertips warm against her waist while her own drifted upward into the curls at the nape of his neck.
The music continued low around them.
Bass humming softly beneath the quiet intimacy of the car.
Their laughter faded naturally after that.
Into lingering glances. Into softer touches. Into kisses that started playful and slowly lost all sense of restraint.
Michael kissed like he performed—completely.
One hand cupping her jaw while the other settled possessively against her waist, pulling her fully against him as though he’d been waiting all night to finally have her to himself again.
“You drove me crazy tonight” he murmured against her mouth.
“You survived” she whispered again teasingly.
“Barely” he repeated, smiling against her lips before kissing her deeper.
Outside, camera flashes suddenly exploded against the windows.
Rapid. Blinding.
Both of them paused slightly.
Paparazzi.
Of course.
Michael pulled back just enough to glance toward the lights outside the car. Reporters were already crowding near the curb, cameras flashing wildly after clearly catching more than enough through the glass.
Years ago, he might’ve panicked.
Tonight?
He barely reacted.
Instead he just looked back at Y/N still half-curled against him, lipstick slightly smudged, smiling breathlessly beneath the dim lighting.
And he shrugged.
The world had speculated for years anyway.
So rather than move away, Michael simply leaned in again and kissed her slower this time completely unbothered by the cameras exploding outside.
Y/N laughed softly against his mouth.
“You know…” she whispered, fingertips brushing along the collar of his jacket, “if you keep looking at me like that, we really are gonna end up trying for a baby.”
Michael stilled for exactly one second.
Then his expression changed completely.
Not shocked.
Interested.
Deeply interested.
A slow smile spread across his face the dangerous kind that always made Y/N immediately question her own ability to behave rationally around him.
“Well” he murmured, reaching up to slide Y/N’s dress back into place as they get ready to exit the limo “that sounds like a wonderful idea to me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Author note:
*sigh* I love them.
Let me know what you think? I also have Michael’s dangerous performance drafted as well if there is interest?

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
thinking about bad!era mike n a sweet girlfriend who started off as his sisters best friend.
you were different, you didn’t fawn or start going ballistic when you saw him. You only gave a shy wave before going upstairs with janet.
thats what caught his attention.
his obsession with you came slowly, him trying to catch you while your alone, his hands ‘accidentally’ brushing your waist while moving past you, him needing to get something from janet only when your over.
of course you noticed, how couldn’t you? he was practically hovering over you like an eager puppy.
so you decided to confront him.
“Mike.” you say softly one night.
you, janet, and michael were watching a movie and janet excused herself to use the bathroom.
“yes?” he looks over at you, clearly a bit nervous about you calling his name upfront. you never did that, only at dinner to ask him to hand the mash potatoes..
you shift so your facing him, your bare legs curled underneath you. “I.. don’t know how to put this any other way but, do you like me? like.. in a crush way?”
he freezes and you swear you can see his cheeks redden with a small blush.
“I mean, how couldn’t i? you.. you’re beautiful. I just..” his sentence is cut off by a small giggle from you.
“Its okay.. i-i like you as well.” you shift a little closer. “you’re very charming, mike.”
he gives an awkward but flattered smile. “you think so?” you nod and he hesitates.
“then.. if i like you, and you like me.. should we, go out? only if you want—“ your lips are on his, soft and sweet, you tasted like caramel.
his hands fly up, freezing before they engulf your waist, his lips moving rhythmically against yours.
a throat clears. “i know like hell..”
authors note: i was listening to thriller, bad & you rock my world while writing this .. and its kinda ass but fuck it we ball.
💭 thinking about dad!Leon during one of those many sleepless nights with your daughter ᝰ.ᐟ
It’s late, and your daughter is downright refusing to sleep, so here you are— lying in bed with a rowdy baby who is very opinionated on the topic of early nights, blabbering nonsense right into your ear whilst Leon tries his best to coax her to lie down
“C’mon… leave your mom alone, you rascal.” He sighs, gently prying the little girl from where she’s climbing all over you.
She has absolutely none of it, letting out a fussy cry and kicking her legs out in protest as she shakes her head a firm no— already begging to blubber, bottom lip jutting out and everything.
“Mama isn’t a jungle gym. It’s eleven o’clock at night, do you understand that?” Leon continues to argue with her as if she could understand a single word coming out of his mouth, and she all but gurgles down at her father in return with a huff and puff. You can’t help but giggle into the pillows— god, she was going to be a nightmare by the time she learns how to walk and talk.
“We shouldn’t have given her that ice cream before bed.” You sigh, definitely living in regret, watching as your daughter now clambers all over Leon with a slight wobble to her tiny legs— still getting used to using those muscles.
“We live, and we learn.” He replies, bringing his hand to rest against his daughter's back so she doesn’t topple over as she climbs up onto his chest with a gleeful squeal.
Her tiny hands press against Leon’s stubbly cheeks, and he lies there, eyes closed, letting her smush at his face as if he were made out of Play-Doh. You shuffle closer until you’re pressed against his side, your head resting against his shoulder as he brings his free arm to wrap around you tightly— caressing the length of your back.
“What’re you doing to your poor dad, hmm?” You whisper up at her, smiling when her round, curious eyes blink down at you— blue just like her daddy’s.
“Giving me a very bad massage.” His response comes out deadpanned.
She giggles, big eyes flickering back to Leon as he pretends to nibble at her fingers, which sends her into another fit of giddy laughter— her little feet kicking at his sides and her fingers poking at his face to try and get him to do it again. You won’t actually fall asleep until three in the morning because your daughter clearly thinks it’s playtime, but maybe that’s the joy of being a parent, these late nights together.
જ⁀➴ Resident Evil Masterlist જ⁀➴ General Masterlist
AN: it’s so hot in the UK right now I wrote this in a daze so my bad if it’s buns
ex for a reason : 03 serious conversations about jake
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : pushing the bunnyhoon agenda.. sorry to the random account i had to report for the 1st slide. i think it was from a tweet that pissed me off so maybe i’m not that sorry but idk. it had to happen. everyone start reporting random men for existing.
taglist : @noirellee @luv444erin @ikeumiu @simjaeyunlvrclub @isoobie @woninlove @chuuchuutrain1009 @riiseiis @gownluvr @honeymoonave777 @asaapjwons @ikeuikkeu @rijakecentral @zenhypen @bamgyooooo
✩ ₊˚ making niki take you in backshots as punishment
"please, baby. i wanna see your pretty face," niki pleads for the umpteenth time.
niki will take you however you need him to, but you and him both know he prefers it when you're facing him.
tonight you're denying him of that pleasure, not even straining your neck to spare him a glance.
"m-mm. no riki. take me just like this, since you want to–shit–act out."
his hips slow into deep strokes. he's close and he knows you are too. but he doesn't want to finish like this.
"y/n, i'm sorry. i promise i won't do it again, hm? just let me flip you over, or at least look at me."
you push your hips back into his, chasing your own pleasure, while pretending to still think about it. "what do i get out of it, hm?"
niki almost rolls his eyes, but he knows he's already on thin ice. anymore mishaps you might leave him with blue balls. "the best orgasm of your life," he replies.
you suck your teeth. "fine, riki."
he barely wastes a second before he's flipping you over and manhandling your legs onto his shoulders, damn near folding you in half.
he slips back into you with a moan, finally being able to see that beautiful face he's fallen in love with.
"f-fuck baby. you look sooo good." he groans, hips pounding into you. you clench at the praise, moans starting to flow out as he repeatedly hits that spot inside of you.
his eyes never leave your face, every reaction and twitch going straight to his dick. and then you make a face he knows all too well.
"you close, baby?" he grunts, trying to keep up his pace.
"yes, please– don't stop." now you're the one pleading. he could be mean. he could deny you of a sweet release like you did him, but at this point he needed to see you cum more than you needed to feel it.
"cum on this dick, y/n, give it to me. fuck–"
like a rubber band, you snap, legs shaking as you clench around him, his release following soon after.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
a/n: i literally wrote this all in one go idk i got bored. anyways i think he would genuinely like to be all up in ur face during sex so . yea
i’m in love suh
ex for a reason : 02 PHILOSOPHY or PSYCHOSIS
previous masterlist next
𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺𝖾 : we’re all dying anyways
taglist : @noirellee @luv444erin @ikeumiu @simjaeyunlvrclub @isoobie @woninlove @chuuchuutrain1009 @riiseiis @gownluvr @honeymoonave777 @asaapjwons @ikeuikkeu @rijakecentral @zenhypen

Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ᥫ᭡. ⋮ ℴ𝓁𝒹ℯ𝓇 .ᐟ 𝓁ℯℴ𝓃 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝒶 𝓋ℯ𝓇𝓎 ℴ𝒷𝓋𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓏ℯ 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀 .ᐟ
⤷ 𝓷𝓼𝓯𝔀. 𝟏𝟖+. clit play. p in v. multiple orgasms. 𝟸.𝟷𝓀
“mhm, i don't think s’gonna fit, baby,”
teasing. leon’s teasing. he has to be after he’s spent hours slowly working you open. making you come on his tongue and fingertips, making you drip until your cunt is soaked and puffy, all so you can take him like you want to but he just keeps teasing you and it’s torture
soft sheets stick to your sweaty back where you're laid out in the middle of your bed with your thighs spread and held down by leon’s large hands pressing into the backs of them. he looks huge towering over you, broad shoulders, rippling muscles and his big cock nestled against your aching and very empty pussy
“it will—you said so—please,” you babble mindlessly while you clench around nothing as if that will somehow prove that you’re ready for him. if you aren’t prepared by now then you simply never will be and the latter doesn’t bare thinking about when you need him to fuck you so desperately
𝟷𝟾+ 🪧 must be of age to read !! ࿐ ⊹ ׂ older ❜ leon’s back giving out during sex.
the wet slap of your skin against skin is the only loud sound in the room, a steady, slick rhythm he dictates with his hips. he shoves your legs higher, hooking them over his shoulders until you’re practically folded in half, taking every thick inch of him as he pounds into you.
then he gives one last, gut-punching thrust, so deep you feel the blunt, bruising pressure of him ramming right into your cervix. it steals the air from your lungs, your vision going white at the edges from the sheer, overwhelming feeling of being so completely filled.
but the grunt he lets out isn’t one of pleasure. he shifts his expression subtly, changing the atmosphere in the room.
his whole body goes rigid above you, every muscle in his back bunched and locked tight. he’s a statue made of sweat and straining sinew, completely still.
“leon?” you pant, cupping his face, your own orgasm still buzzing.
a low, frustrated hiss escapes his gritted teeth. “fuck. my back.”
he’s just dead weight now, a warm, heavy presence still buried balls-deep inside you, but completely immobile. the great leon kennedy, taken out by a bad back mid-fuck.