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@sami2180

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dada jaafar in japan đĽşđ¤
wrapping up writing burn baby, burn and yâall have my mind on being messy and i just thoughtâ
imagine diana trying to crash reader and michaelâs wedding
there would indeed be blood on the dance floor altar
MICHAEL JACKSON AT GARDNER STREET SCHOOL (1989) Part two.
Ughhh my man always looks delicious đ

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heard this once and it changed my brain chemistry 4ever
does it get easier?
when no one gave a damn
spending summer with my white feather hawk tail deer hunter
petition to stop filling the michael jackson x reader with actually bullshiii idgaf about jermajesty or the irrelevant tangents youâre going on that u slapped the tag onto. i came here for mj fanfiction and youâre not delivering. im struggling to find actual fics nowđŤĽ

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When i'm reading a fanfic and they call me 'mama' or ma'am
đ the way you make him feel.
⎠â â thriller era michael.
⎠â â summary: gentlemen can still get their dicks sucked. michael thinks heâs exempt because youâre too pretty. AHNT! wrong.
⎠â â smut, oral sex (male receiving), a very shy and flustered michael because I genuinely donât think heâd be any way else at this age, female reader. wrote this with the âitâs wonderful day!â interview in mind.
Michael isn't sure how he got in this predicament.
One second she'd been curled against him on the bed, tracing lazy shapes against his chest while the television hummed quietly somewhere in the background. The next, her lips were brushing against his ear, soft and plush and devastatingly warm, whispering something sweet as melted honey that made his stomach flip straight into his ribs.
He didn't even fully process the words, only the feeling of all the blood from his head rushing straight to his pants.
A featherlight breath against his skin.
A little kiss tucked just beneath his ear.
The way her voice wrapped around him slow and warm, making him melt before he even realized he was melting. And somehow after that, she was on her knees between his legs.
Michael sat frozen at the edge of the mattress, staring down at her with wide brown eyes while she looked up at him like he'd hung the stars himself. The lamp beside the bed washed everything amber gold, catching in the blush already flooding his cheeks and the nervous shine of his bitten lips.
She looked downright lovesick.
The kind of gaze that made his pulse scramble like frightened birds in a cathedral. Her pupils looked enormous beneath her lashes, soft and syrupy and practically heart shaped with how fond she seemed of him. It made him duck his head immediately, one hand flying up to cover his face as a helpless laugh escaped through his trembling fingers.
âBaby..â he laughed weakly, voice embarrassingly breathless. âDon't look at me like that...â
âWhy not?â
ââCause...â He peeked at her through his fingers only to instantly regret it when she smiled. âYou know why.â
Her hands settled on his thighs then, thumbs smoothing absent little circles against the fabric of his jeans while his knees twitched under her touch. Michael inhaled sharply, shoulders pulling inward with shy tension as she started inching upward, slow enough for him to want to instinctively close his thighs as his stomach tightened when her fingers brushed his belt.
âCan I taste what's in here, angel face?â she spoke softly, tilting her head.
i donât know if i should laugh or cry
so i had an idea/request but iâm too shy to ask off anon, please forgive me: youâve wrote a few MJ pregnancy fics so i thought u would be perfect for this slightly angst but fluffy idea during the thriller era.
You just gave birth and wake up after a long and difficult labor to see michael holding your perfect baby, but looking a little distant and sad. you ask whats wrong and of course he tries to deflect, but its guilt, many layers. he almost missed the labor because he was working (perhaps you went into labor early/unexpectedly and couldnt reach him at first). And the baby looks just like him, but him before vitiligo took over and getting cosmetic surgery. you assure him that you love him and the baby, who undeniably has his eyes and beautiful smile, and thats enough. he finally admits out loud that hes worried about what kind of father heâll be after being raised by joseph (heâs avoided talking about it for months), but you assure him that youâre not a bit worried because if the baby inherits even a fraction of his love and kindness; youâll all be just fine.
Sorry if this is too detailed or cheesy but i hope youâll consider writing it because itâs lived rent-free in my head for days.
a/n: i hope this turned out like how you wanted đ
t/w: angst, allusions to an abusive childhood, insecurity, parental anxiety, fluff, heâs a girl dad đ¤
statement on ai
đ drag that bitcâ
⎠â â off the wall era michael.
⎠â â summary: itâs genuinely on sight if you catch diana by herself.
⎠â â no crazy warnings. female reader, public verbal argument (reader and diana), brief emotional stress and anxiety, romantic jealousy, relationship strain, smoking / cigarette useâpls its the 80âs, mikey in the doghouse.
So.. Michael doesn't think he's ever been this fucking scared in his life.
Which feels deeply unfair considering heâs Michael Jackson. Heâs performed in front of thousands of people, heâs danced on national television. And yet somehow none of those experiences prepared him for the sight currently waiting across Studio 54.
His girlfriend is sitting alone in a velvet booth with a drink in front of her, looking so spectacularly deadpan that Michael briefly considers leaving the country. The problem is that she isnât crying, isn't yelling. She isnât even causing a scene. Sheâs ignoring him. Which is infinitely worse. When she gets loud, at least he knows where he stands. When she gets quiet? Oh, baby thatâs when God himself starts abandoning his people.
The club pulses around him in flashes of gold and red light, cigarette smoke hanging thick in the air while celebrities and socialites laugh their way through another night theyâll be talking about for years. Meanwhile, Michael is standing near the bar wondering if itâs possible to die from being in trouble with a pretty girl. The worst part is that she has a point, enough of a point that every defense heâd come up with has fallen apart the second heâs tried saying it to himself.
The evening had started perfectly fine. Then Diana arrived. And somehow Michael had spent the next two hours getting continuously pulled into her orbit. One conversation became three. One dance became several. Every time he managed to drift back toward his girlfriend, Diana found a way to pull him somewhere else. A joke. A story. A hand on his arm. A request for âone moreâ dance. Michael hadnât noticed how bad it looked at first, but his girlfriend had. The first warning came in the form of a look. The second came as a pointed comment. The third involved her physically appearing beside him while Diana stood entirely too close and entirely too comfortable. And Michael, complete idiot that he was, had smiled. Smiled! Like there wasnât a bomb actively ticking beside him.
I would drag that b for free âď¸

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âMaking of Michael (2026) - How Jaafar Jackson Became Michael Jacksonâ
this lyrics breakdown of "2000 watts" is frying me uppppp
Ughhh ik my man was a FREAKY FREAK