20s | black ♡
masterlist. rules.
feedback is always encouraging, asks are always open!
minors dni

JBB: An Artblog!

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Not today Justin

$LAYYYTER
Cosmic Funnies
art blog(derogatory)

#extradirty
Xuebing Du

shark vs the universe

JVL
styofa doing anything
Aqua Utopia|海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
AnasAbdin

izzy's playlists!
h
almost home
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open

Andulka
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@pervertedreams
20s | black ♡
masterlist. rules.
feedback is always encouraging, asks are always open!
minors dni

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(18+) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ imagine getting to be with michael backstage after his grammy performance in '88—his hair all frizzy and poofy, his body physically shaking from exhaustion, and his skin glistening with beads of sweat. he was gorgeous even when his body was beat and weak, it was so unfair.
you & him would be sitting all quiet in his dressing room, michael's quick panting being the only sound in the room. you came closer to help him with taking off some of his dripping makeup, smiling up at him while doing so. he'd attempt to take a few deep breaths, only for a few small coughs to conjure up in his throat.
after a few moments, he began expressing his disappointment in the event. not a single grammy for his new album that he put his own blood, sweat and tears into—it hurt his heart. and as his girlfriend, it hurt you even more to see your gorgeous man have to endure such a terrible emotion.
so, in an attempt to cheer him up, you decided to intervene. you interrupted him mid-rant, planting kisses on his cheek as he continued speaking. he smiled and shrugged off the first few kisses, but you grew hungrier and needier. your mouth travelled from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, and finally atop his moist lips, cutting him off from speaking completely.
he ultimately gave in, looking at himself in the standing mirror while you began to kiss his neck. his skin was still damp with sweat, but it made the action even hotter. he bit his lip watching you go to work in the mirror, his hands finding their way to your soft hips. your arms were thrown around his neck, your mouth feeling sweet as ever against his body. you roamed his neck slowly, your mouth being able to feel the small curly strands of hair slicked down to his skin.
he groaned under his breath, his loose ponytail beginning to slowly slip out of its shape, his hair sooo fucking close to being fully down. you made your way back to his lips, your tongue being given the freedom to roam around in his mouth. he returned the favor as well, your tongues intertwining and sort of making love in their own special way so to speak. he pulled away for a moment just to chuckle at himself, immediately pressing your mouths together once more.
he tried to speak during the kiss, but it turned into muffled nonsense. you pulled away, cocking an eyebrow as a small 'hm?' released from your chest.
"what i tried to say was," he giggled, tightening his grip on your hips, pecking your cheek a final time. "i love you."
you playfully stuck your tongue out at him, before starting up the smooches all over again. he clearly had forgotten about those pestering grammys.
had this tiny thought while rewatching the performance for the 100,000th time UGH he looked so gorgeous all exhausted and tired. needed this real bad ><
dbf!michael who’s jealously seeps through his actions whenever your boyfriend comes around. he’ll hover over you more than your dad, under the guise of wanting to make sure you’re okay. he knows you’re okay, he just can’t let anything happen further when he’s around. a part of him dislikes the fact that your boyfriend is a big fan of his music but anything to keep him away from you, right?
dbf!michael, who spoils you rotten, sending you money for whatever. he knows you have everything you need usually, being the independent person that you are. the thing is, michael is obsessed with the way your voice gets whenever he sends you money. the guilt dripping from your tone, begging michael to take back at least some of the money but he doesn’t listen. telling you it’s okay, don’t worry your pretty head, spend the money or save it so he can add more to it later.
he also makes sure you’re at most of his concerts, front row, just so he can keep his eyes on you during most of it. dbf!michael makes sure he has dirty diana and in the closet on the set list, needing you to hear his breathy voice and slight moans. he has this hidden smirk and desire on his face, eyes locked on yours, making your heart beat faster. you swear it’s just the performance, but you know it’s more than that. the dreams of michael coming to you, touching your body, reappear. you tried so hard to push them away years ago, but how could you?
dbf!michael, who loves it whenever he takes you shopping, he’ll play it off to your dad and you that he’s just being nice, and yeah, he is but he really wants to see what you’ll pick out. he’ll follow you to the dressing room, standing outside, trying so hard to keep his boner down whenever you come out with something new. he’ll ask you in that soft voice of his to twirl for him, seeing the curves of your body peak out. you feel hot whenever he does that, whenever his eyes and attention are stuck on only you. he chews on his gum harder, licking his bottom lip, fingers playing with something on him cause he can’t touch you.
dbf!michael doesn’t mean to show off his awards and achievements, but he does, reminding you that your boyfriend can’t and will never compare. so many things he does, dbf!michael will remind you what a man is, and it’s definitely not your boyfriend. so, he’ll wait patiently, manipulating everything to his way, because he knows sooner or later your boyfriend will be out of the picture. you’ll cry to michael, be captured in his loving arms, and he’ll take good care of you.
michael’s hands…he’d love comparing hand sizes just so he can tease you about it. feeling the weight of his palm on your thigh while the driver’s escorting you both to an event or a date. him gesturing “come here” and maybe patting his lap if he’s sitting down. him slapping your ass. grabbing your breasts.gripping your chin so you’ll look at him. hugging you after a hard day. tucking hair behind your ear. unzipping your dress when you can’t reach.
ugh this, and he loves squeezing your cheeks, watching your lips pucker for him. during sex he has a tendency of doing that, you’re whining to cum and he’s got a nice grip on your cheeks and the rest of your body with his other hand. telling you to be patient, letting you ride out your orgasm slowly, making you feel every inch of him. his hands always find their way to you in public, keeping you safe from others, especially paparazzi. sometimes, he’ll cover your face with his hand or something, protecting you as much as possible. he knows how the tabloids are, deals with enough of them to know he doesn’t want you dealing with it, if he can try. then, if we want to talk about jealous!michael, he’ll have his hand ghosting your back before gripping your waist, pulling you closer to his side as he introduces himself to the person you’re talking to. one, you have no idea that’s currently flirting with you. michael is a gentleman, his hand never touching your ass but god do you want him to not care, and give in. you could tell he would love to bring you to his limo and teach you a few things, and you’re willing to learn that lesson. the thing is, michael really loves to make you wait. he’s possessive, and he knows his power, he’ll use it to his advantage. he’ll let the men flirt, he’ll let them compliment you over and over again with words he’s said before, but they never compare to his. michael’s hands will do the talking when you guys get home.
marsha p. johnson with a stuffed snoopy doll, december 5, 1987.

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(otw era) 𓈒 ݁ ݂ bsf!michael who loved to keep memories physically in any way he possibly could. anywhere the two of you went, he carried around his instant camera, snapping photos constantly—most of them being you, of course.
no matter the hangout spot or the situation, he always found a perfect moment to snap a photograph of you yourself or the two of you together. most of the time he'd take candid pictures of you, giggling to himself as you looked back in confusion.
"what?" you cocked an eyebrow, your mind racing all over the place with what could've possibly been so funny. michael continued to giggle, only fueling your frustration.
"oh, nothing. you're just really pretty." he watched as the compliment made you smile, whipping up his camera to take yet another photograph of the moment.
everytime he had an opportunity, you know damn well he seized it. you could've been mid-conversation, and he would sneak a photo of you speaking. not in a perverted way at all, he just loved collecting photographs of his best friend.
he had a large photo album specifically for you and your hangouts, the album almost not being able to close from how filled up it was. the cover had a small photograph of you kissing him on the cheek, from around your birthday a few years prior. he had gotten you the ultimate gift—that being an 8 track player you had been dying for but your parents couldn't afford.
in large black letters, the cover read "my muse" paired with some tiny stickers you had gifted him before; a few disney characters and one or two of peter pan. after every hangout, he'd come back to his room all giddy and excited to get his new photographs into the album.
he also would let you take photos of him, letting you keep them for yourself. he liked to ponder to himself about whether you had an album for him or not, his cheeks turning red from the thought.
his favorite genre of photographs to get of you were the candids. he had many of them; you dancing around to a donna summer album, your face being hit ever so gently by sunlight, your back to the camera in front of a gorgeous lake view.
he loved them all. but his favorite photograph ever of you was you and him dressed as peter pan and tinkerbell for a costume party some year. he loved how you two looked so natural together, hoping one day his underlying dream of becoming your boyfriend would come true.
in his spare time, he would mostly spend his time singing or dancing on his own. but when he wasn't occupied with his talents, he liked to just stare at the photo album. he would reimagine the moments he took each one as if they all happened yesterday, smiling to himself each and every time.
"my silly girl." he chuckled, running his long finger over your smiling photograph.
tried something a little more fluffy today <33 i've been enjoying writing for you all, just know every note, reblog, and comment means so much to me. love you guys with all of my heart 💕
DOMESTIC BLISS. 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻
❛ mature era!michael jackson 𝑥 𝑓 nanny!reader ❜ ╱ summary. some instances in which michael and you function as a couple . . . which you guys aren't. just a really, really good team.
warnings. no real warnings, it's just mainly fluff. and tbh i can't tell if this is actually domestic or not, but oh well i just really wanted to write the following scenarios. prince being prince. hints at michael's obsession for you. age gap - twenty years. not proofread. series m.list main m.list
michael who made an extreme emphasis on his desire to be present in his children's lives and not have them be raised by nannie's. but soon after blanket's birth he knew he needed a little extra help with a newborn and two little ones running around.
the interview process was long and tedious and happened over a few weeks as michael personally reviewed over applications, made the phone calls to let which applicants will be getting interviewed where and when, and conducted the interviews process with various questions;
"during times of stress how do you handle the chaos of the children?"
"what was the reason for leaving the last family you works for, and what made you interested in caring for my family?"
"do you have any formal education in child care, child education, or child development?"
"are you ready to take on not just my children's schedules but my own, and what that entails?"
he wants the best for his children and you just happen to be that. you're one of two of the last applicant who progressed to the very last interview, and watching the other applicant go first and leave with an unreadable expression only worsened your worries. and when you think everything is going good your nerves are on edge and heart pounding against your chest when michael rose from his seat across from you and extending his hand out to you. placing trembling hands on the edge of the conference desk to push your seat out and away so you can also stand, wiping your sweaty hand on your slacks before extending it to meet michael's firm grip, "congratulations, you're hired."
you didn't formally meet the children until your second day, you're first day was just you getting acclimated. already having signed every form of paper possible upon getting hired, all michael requested of you for your first day was to show up to neverland ranch at 7 a.m sharp. giving you a proper tour of neverland ranch before returning back to the house and to his office to go over the kids routine.
michael's eyes follow where your body bends to reach inside of the bag you brought with you, eyes widening just a bit when you pull out a dark green journal and pen. flipping the journal open and clicking the pen to jot down the small bit of what he had said about their schedules before he went silent, only the sounds of pen on paper filling the office.
when there's nothing more left to write down you peer your gaze up just a bit, but michael's eyes are trained on the journal in your lap, mouth slightly agape. "you can continue, mr. jackson."
the sound of your voice pulls his eyes back up to meet your own, licking his lips, "right," he continues, coughing lightly, "'nd it's michael, no formalities."
and he gets amused when you give him a curt nod before moving your pen to the very top of the page and write something down, probably something along the lines of no use of formalities.
only further getting amused by you when just before you leave you pull a container full of various cookies out, "i don't know what they're favorite is so i just made small batches of chocolate chip, snickerdoodle, and sugar cookies with sprinkles," you explain, fingers gripped around the nice container you bought specifically for this, not wanting to hand michael jackson a tupperware container.
hand it over, feeling uneasy when all he does is start at the container now in his hands, "you and the other staff can have some too of course, they're not just for the children," rambling on.
when michael looks up there's a small smile on his face, "thank you, we 'ppreciate it. they're are going t'love them for dessert."
introductions with the children go well, michael makes them thank you for the cookies, and it really doesn't take too long for them to warm up to you. it only took prince a few hours to approach you to ask if you would play with him, and if there's one thing about childcare that you will never get over is their small voices when they're still a little shy, which didn't last long with prince once he got comfortable with you.
and with blanket it took no time. the five of you sat around the dinning table as the kids ate their breakfast, with prince and paris sat next to each other, paris next to michael who is at the head of the table, you were in the seat right in front of paris while blanket was in his father arms, already having had a bottle. when michael was nursing his glass of orange juice that's when you feel it, a chubby hand lightly against your forearm.
taking blanket's smaller hand in yours, the natural movement he's making seem like the two of you are shaking hands. "hi, blanket," you muse, grinning when the infant begins to coo and show off his gummy smile. his arms now fully trying to reach you.
"he's tryin' t'escspe my arms, d'you wan' him?" the question has you thinking for a second, but you do agree.
"yeah, i'll take him." opening your arms and reaching out to grab the infant. blanket instantly settling within your arms, resting his head onto your shoulder, his cheek squishing adorably against it that has michael bringing a finger to sooth at his other chubby cheek.
however, it's paris that takes some time to fully warm up to you. she still interacted with you, but she never sought you out like how prince would take your hand in his and guide you off somewhere, most likely somewhere with an elaborate toy set up or the makeshift fort he built. or how blanket started to naturally cling to you whenever you were around. but paris seemed to always longingly stare at you whenever you interacted with her brothers. you always tried to include her, making the space for her to join in welcome as you remember michael telling you that paris is interested in whatever prince has.
you didn't take it personally, you figured it would take time since during the first meeting she had clung to michael's leg, using it to hide and peek from as she'd like. and you related to her, being a shy yourself during childhood, knowing that within time and gentleness that she will hopefully get more comfortable around you.
and that she did. a few weeks into caring for them it was quiet time. blanket was down for afternoon nap and this was the time where you'd put on a movie for the kids, usually a disney one and they could choose from watching the movie, a quiet activity, or to take a nap as well. prince had insisted on watching tarzan just end up curled asleep on the couch before jane and tarzan even meet, while paris chose to do a quiet activity of coloring.
taking this time you'd often journal in the very same dark green journal about anything and everything, a habit you carried for middle school, through high school, through college, and now through adulthood. you used to journal right before bed when you were younger, but the hours of being a nanny are from the start of the morning to the end of night, so you often opt for any free time you have to do so.
"wha's that?" a small voice asks.
feeling startled you look you see paris standing in front of you, trying to peer into the journal on your lap, "oh, it's just my journal," you respond, showing her the outside of the cover that's a little worn at the edges and the inside of the lined pages where you write.
her eyes sparkle with curiosity as you show the journal off, "is it for coloring?"
you're eyebrows furrow as you look at it, flipping through its ages, "it can be," you don't see why it couldn't be, "but i use it to write."
it's then that paris moves from in front of you to now sit squished against your side, "'nd write what?"
the question makes you smile, remembering how michael and her were sat at the dinning table just being dinner with sheets of blank paper and different colored crayons as she practiced writing her name. "i write anything," you begin, moving the journal from your lap into hers and allowing her to flip through the pages, "mainly about how i'm feeling."
"oh," it comes out quiet, like she's thinking about something.
and as you watch her an idea comes to mind, "y'know, i could get you a journal like mine."
your words instantly has paris's head turning to look at you, eyes wide like saucers, "really?" she exclaims.
chuckling at her excitement and the fact that she's still at the age where r's still sound like w's as you nod, "really, and we could practice your writing in it too," you solidify.
that's when paris's arms shoot and wrap around your torso, hugging you and squeezing her eyes shut, "than' you."
the moment tugs at your heart, wrapping your arms around to embrace her, "you're welcome, sweet girl."
and when you left that night you returned the next morning with baby pink journal, a few pack of stickers, and a glitter pen set.
it's truly fate on how well you and michael work together. falling into an easy rhythm within no time between the two of you and the children. you'd arrive at neverland every morning at 6, which gives you just enough time to say your hello's to the rest of the staff around the house before the children need to be woken up. you've developed routine of swigging by the kitchen to see what the chef is cooking for breakfast and snag a small bite of whatever is available, usually fruit when the chef's back is turned. and more times than not it leaves you and michael enough time to do a debrief of what the day entails, which is something that isn't really needed since you stay a little later on sunday nights to go over the next week, but still happens regardless. and through time it developed from that, figuring which one was going to wake which child up to random small talk, you're often the person who catches michael up on whatever sitcom show is airing on tv while he's tells you something from the news.
just outside the kid's bedrooms michael and you play rock paper scissors, the both of you hitting your open palms with your first as you whisper the words. and when you go for your safety, the reliable rock, while michael just had to go for paper you groan, throwing your head back.
looking back at him he's grinning at the way your shoulders are slightly slouched, "out of three?" you attempt, wiggling your eyebrows at the father.
an airy chuckle passes from his lips, "i've woken the lil' dragon everyday this week, by time i've gotten to wake the princess."
you and michael started referring to prince as little dragon when it comes to waking him up in the morning. he's stubborn, and it's hard to get the boy up and out of bed without persistent gentle pats and rubs to the head or back and encouraging words. you two try to hold off on turning the lights on in the kids room to get the up, finding it too abrupt, so more times than not the only light is either from the hallway or the raising sun through the curtains. while little miss paris is a dream to wake up, all it takes is a warm hand circling her back that gets her up and stretching in bed.
everyone knows that michael captures everything when it comes to his kids. from home videos, sports events, recital, anything, he finds it worthy of being caught on film.
and that includes the hard days. blanket had come down with cold that had only made abnormally fussy, and you would be lying if you said you weren't relieved when michael returned home. because entertaining prince and paris while maintaining blanket's symptoms and staying on top of his doses and still making sure that the two old kids don't get too close to blanket as siblings do so they don't fall sick as well.
michael took over for the evening essentially, he was with blanket for a little bit before you thought about how if anyone can get sick from being in close proximity to blanket it should probably be you, so you two swapped while he wore down the older kids and got them settled for the night.
while he was handling bath and bed time you were able to give blanket some purée that michael request the chef to make in batches and a bottle along with a night dose of medication. and instead of retreating back to couch that you've been on for most of the day, you retreated to blanket's nursery. sighing when you're tired body hits the rocking chair, instantly getting into the subconscious movement of rocking the infant to sleep. and in doing so you're own eyelids get heavy with each blink.
unknowingly michael had been looking for you after putting both prince and paris to bed. it takes him returning to the hallway where the kid's rooms reside to notice you and blanket in the rocker, watching the gentle movements of the rubs you're giving blanket's back. he doesn't fully know how to process how or what he's thinking, and to be honest michael hasn't been able to form a full solid opinion on you since the day you met. not that that's bad, you just seem too good to be true, and the way at which you deeply care for his children only confuses him more. knowing what it means for them to reach their development milestones along with ensuring that they are healthily expressing themselves both identity wise and emotionally. and it doesn't help that you're smart, one of the old family you nannied for during high school being generous enough to fund you going to school for psychology, and beautiful, your go to outfit being jeans with either a loose t-shirt or sweater it's effortless but pull it off too well and often more times than not you opt to have your curls up and away from blanket's strong grip.
and he knows it isn't right to develop a crush? or a deep admiration for his nanny, it gets in the way of you being able to do you job and it gets in the way of michael being able to form coherent thoughts around you, not to mention that he's twenty years your senior. he's kept it at bay since you started working, but he can't help but have the reason of why you split with your previous family you worked for loom over her head, the reason being that the kids you cared for just got too old for a nanny, entering adolescence. and although it was a mutual decision between you and the family, he doesn't think he could ever come to the conclusion that him and his children won't need you.
pulling himself out of his thoughts he retreats and returns with his camcorder. catching the sweet moment as a forever memory, just in case there is every a time you decide to leave, maybe to leave to pursue further education (although michael would happily fund it and keep you employed at the same time) or to start your own family (which he secretly dreads), for the kids to have moments they can look back on with you in them.
you who start staying later than you need to. masking it in the disguise of wanting to help michael with whatever chore is left, which is true, but you also selfishly enjoy the alone time with michael. the nights where you stay and help pick up toys and put them back and arrange them, which sometimes turn into small fights between you and michael when either one of you throw a stuffed animal at each other and quickly turn your backs before the other turns around. or the quieter nights spent listening to the jazz station on the radio as michael washes the dishes while you dry them. it's chores that you and michael really don't have to do, he has cleaners.
prince can pursued anyone, including his father and you. which is exactly how sleepovers became a special occasion.
the hard bargaining wasn't even getting his father to say yes, it was michael having to tell blanket that you may have something you'd want to do for yourself or with friends instead of having a sleepover with them.
which was a hard pill to swallow for both, but prince still being young ran from his father and straight to you. collapsing into you arms with tears brimming in his eyes, "please have a sleepover with us," his small voice messing up the pronouncement of a few words from pushing his face into your sweater, smoothing a gentle hand through the boy's hair to regulate him.
upon looking up to search for michael, he's already there, a hand on his hip, "he wan's y'to stay 'nd have a sleepover, but i told him that y'may have plans," he explains, walking over and trying to pull the boy from off of you, but he clings to your waist.
looking down at only the peek of blonde hair, you frown then smile, looking back at michael, "'m free friday night so i really don't mind."
"you really don-"
"'s alright, michael. and besides, haven't you been wanting to build that jumbo fort, prince?"
the mention of a fort and his name has prince pulling himself back from where he hides his face against your stomach, hands still crumpled in the material of your sweater. "yeah," it's quiet and meek as he nods his head.
you hand falls from his head down to his rosy cheek to wipe his tears streaks, "then no more cryin', we've get to look forward to friday."
which is exactly how you spent a friday night building the biggest fort you have every built with michael and the kids, the night entailing movies and ice cream and books and flashlight shows.
michael who has selfish thoughts whenever you're around. often during mealtimes when the five of you intertwine hands to bless the food.
he knows it's wrong to fantasize about the five of you being a real family whenever you arrive extra early just because you promised the kids special pancakes.
michael shuffles into the kitchen, expected to see the chef, which he does, but they're off to the side chopping fruits while you're the one at the stove. the sound of your name falling softly from michael's tongue has you looking up.
and he knows he's beyond gone when the wide smile that spreads across your face gives him butterflies, because it shouldn't.
"want a pancake?" you ask, as michael moves closer, turning your head back to pan to pay attention.
"wha' are you doin' this for?" he's close enough to you for you to feel his breath on your neck and for him to smell the faint scent of your perfume mixing with the scent of your hair products.
"for the kids," of course it is he thinks, peering down into the pan to see various sizes of pancake shapes, "gonna turn them into designs, like a monkey or somethin'" you explain, flipping the pancakes once their tops get all bubbly.
and when that's done you turn your head again, as best you can with michael close in your proximity, he might as well be glued to your back. "d'you want a pancake?" asking the father again as the two of you lock eyes.
"yeah, i'll take a pancake."
your head swiftly nods and once again focuses back on the pancakes. hearing shuffles of michael's feet and no longer feeling the presence of his body close to yours, "gonna go wake up the kids for breakfas'."
michael who secretly refers to paris and you as his girls.
all three of his children are blessings, but there was nothing more exciting than to find out he was having a daughter. and now with you in their lives he's thankful to have such a positive and strong woman figure in their lives.
lingering around in the mornings, body pressed against the bathroom doorframe as he watches you do paris's hair for the day as she sits on the bathroom counter. he can do his daughter's hair, but mostly just in simple plates and ponytails, while you can do the more detailed hairstyles.
and he loves nothing more than to come home and notice that the two of you has a dress up day. either by the colorful marks on your face and the precise blends of color on paris's or by paris running into her father's arms right when he steps through the door to show off her nails that you painted while he later notices the messy marks of nail polish on your nails and the surrounding skin at dinner.
michael who keeps a polaroid of you and the kids in his wallet. one taken on blanket's first birthday that he cherishes whenever he's away. often tracing a too large finger over your faces, missing the cheerful chaos of the kids and you no matter he's at a buzzing event or a quiet hotel.
the four of you are all wearing tiny birthday hats for blanket's birthday party. the birthday sits calmly in your lap while michael attempts to direct the old two around.
"no, prince, on her other side," his voice already defeated as the young boy keeps wanting to pose his own way.
"i wanna d'it like this though," prince pouts, moving to stand right behind where you sit on the floor and throw his small arms over your neck and hook his chin over your shoulder.
"let him be," you muse through a small grin that you shoot michael, the two of you know that prince is going to win the battle either way.
"okay, paris," just when he starts paris settles against your side, removing a secure hand around blanket's belly and using it to wrap around paris and pull he snug under your arm, "good, good," clicking his fingers together to get blanket's attention facing forward.
"everyone say happy first birthday, blanket."
and when it's said and the four of you are all smiling at the end, there's a click, that encases the memory forever.
©sweeterners 2026.
bisexually waiting for everyone to wake up on janet jackson
her abs!!???!! i guess i will have to do it myself but i pray others will join me
and when i say ab riding w janet den what...
u dont have to tell me twice #onit
I'm in love, sweet love

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‘not so secret’ - m. jackson.
or… you and michael almost getting caught.
contents: making out, like two curse words, slightly frisky🫣, marlon interaction bc i love him, readers race isn't explicitly stated but it's implied that she's quincy jones’s daughter so do with that what you will
wc: 647
a/n: first time writing for mj so don’t judge if this is straight ass
Los Angeles, California - 1977.
The sun poured its warm golden rays over you and Michael from the rooftop, casting long shadows on the ground. The noise of the city hummed below, with cars honking ever so often as they navigated the bustling streets. The air was filled with the distant sounds of music drifting up from nearby cafes and street performers.
“Mikey- C’mon, we gotta go.” You tried to reason with your boyfriend, but his hands stayed planted firmly on your hips as he peppered kisses across your face.
“Five more minutes, baby.”
“Michael.”
“Hm?” he hummed innocently, placing another peck to your lips, which you couldn't help but return.
(1989) MICHAEL JACKSON: L.A. GEAR PRESS CONFERENCE.
˙⋆✮ just think about how worked up boyfriend!Michael would get seeing you all dressed up at an award show…18+ mdni
He can’t keep his hands to himself when he sees the way your dress hugs your hips, stretching perfectly over your ass. He watches you like a hawk all night— obsessive and hungry while you prance around the room mingling and laughing, oblivious to the way your curves are calling to him with every sleek step of your heels.
He’s more handsy than usual, his fingers curling at your waist, hands running down the base of your spine aching to palm the flesh of your backside. You were a temptress luring him out of his usual reserved demeanor, making him look like a love-sick puppy at a televised award show. He’d pay for it later in the tabloids, but for now he couldn’t stop his hands from rubbing and grabbing up your bare thigh, leaning over to whisper against your ear, “you’re drivin’ me crazy tonight baby.” Fingers squeezing softly at your thigh, “you look so sexy.” His lips ghost your jaw, a deep inhale tickling your skin as he takes in the familiar scent of your perfume— warm and sweet.
All he can think about is being suffocated by notes of amber and vanilla with his face buried in the crook of your neck once he can finally have his way with you. He doesn’t even think he’ll be able to make it to the bedroom; perfectly content with the idea of taking you right there in the entry way, pulling your dress up just enough to grant him access between your thighs and fucking you against the front door when you get home.
𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒌 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒂𝒘𝒏 ㅤ..ㅤ 𑣲ㅤ Michael fell for you the moment he saw you in the conference room. Since then, he’s been serenading you with letters. 𝗪𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗽𝘁 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 , 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗷𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝗶𝘁 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝘂𝘀𝗲. 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗲𝗿𝘀 𝗸𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁? see──masterlist.
info. ꨄ︎ 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗮𝗱 / 𝗯𝗮𝗱 𝗲𝗿𝗮 𝗺𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 𝗷𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀𝗼𝗻 × 𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝗳!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝙬𝙘. 𝟯𝟱𝟮. & michael serenades you a lot & is basically head over heels. 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝖼.
݁ ˖Ი𐑼⋆ read part one.
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒅 the photographer notices you both standing together—your stomach drops.
Michael Jackson Presenting James Brown, 2003

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sex with michael, but both of you end up crying because it was so good and because of how in love you both are with each other.
otw era going into thriller era michael, both of you haven’t had much luck with love. yes, you’ve had people who flirted, and you both have flirted with them, but it was never love. with michael there’s a sensitivity you both give each other, a part of it does deal with fear, fear of ruining something so tender, fear of losing yourselves in the relationship. but you guys don’t, michael really appreciates how you protect him in public, in a way, and he does the same for you. so, being able to express that through making love, it’s a lot. it’s overwhelming in a good way, because both of you feel as though you are each other’s soulmates. maybe the first time, michael slips up and says he loves you, maybe it’s when you guys are done with aftercare and you’re sleeping beside him. he’s holding you close because he’s afraid you’ll leave just like many people have. so, he thinks it, writes it in his music, and actions. he can’t lose you. he won’t either, it’ll take a while for him to realize you’re staying, but once he does, he’s at his most comfortable; just like you.
Michael x assistant reader