#michael 2026

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.9k, nsfw ) perv (invincible era)!michael jackson x fem afab reader <3

cws: not smut but he's a pervert so this includes heavily suggestive/mature content

       everyone just assumed that michael had grown out of wearing silly disguises in public. it'd been years, after all, since he donned his last one. it was all too easy for the people in his life to say so long to those cartoonish outfits, the overly baggy pants, the unnecessarily unflattering tops and strange hats; each disguise was vaguely off-putting, even the more natural looking ones. combine the unusual clothing choices with tthose big, chunky aviators covering his eyes, and you've got a man no one can recognize, at least at first glance. "remember when you used to play dress up?" janet would ask, teasing him about the goofy disguises. his entire family had thought he'd matured past it.

physically, he'd definitely grown out of those outfits. mentally? not so much.

after finding himself bored one afternoon and remembering the shenanigans he used to get up to while disguised in public, michael decided it was time to start wearing those outfits again. new ones, of course, more realistic ones, outfits that were entirely civilian but still fashionable rather than being silly caricatures of what he thought regular people wore.

outfits, much like the one he has on right now as he walks through a local mall. he'd been inside before as michael jackson, drawing in a crowd that nearly flooded the place with people. today, he's here as just michael, a man who's currently searching through colognes and just might stop by the food court soon. women walk by the cologne section to get to the perfume, some with wedges on, some talking on the phone, some chewing bubblegum, but all with that gentle switch in their hips as they walk, the kind of motion michael likes to watch.

he stands by a cologne display, half-checking out the different scents and half-checking out the different women. "ooo," he murmurs under his breath, shaking his head to himself before glancing at the man next to him, a member of his security personnel (also in disguise). "look at that one." a woman walks by, whining on the phone to her boyrfriend or husband about how she needs more money to buy the shoes she really, really, really wants. "spoiled rotten," the popstar remarks, "but whew."

the natural shifting of weight as she walks shows off what little ass she has, her butt rising and falling, side to side, as she cuts through the men's section, still complaining. michael's eyes follow her until he happens to notice you out of the corner of his eye. you've already got three boxes of perfume in hand, leaving the perfume section and entering the men's section. alongside you is a friend, one that nods as you grumble about the store's pricing. when your friend asks why you bought so much anyways, michael has the pleasure of watching you grow a bit sheepish— "i don't know, i just felt like i deserved it."

it's enough to make him giggle inside, outwardly only allowing a small smile at what he's overheard. glancing up again, he notes your face (cute) and chest (supple-seeming, at least from what your cleavage allows him to see) before he gazes back down at the cologne box he'd unconsciously picked up. michael feigns interest in it as you and your friend walk along the cologne displays.

he's not sure what to name you; silly fish? spoiled fish? bad with money fish? cute-faced fish? "good fish," he concludes, licking tentatively along his upper lip before setting the cologne box back down, "that's good fish, right there."

the bodyguard beside him has the nerve to ask, "which one?", a question that prompts michael to chuckle— "they're both good fish. but i like the funny one a little more. i wish more women were like her. just... silly," he shrugs, deciding that silly really is the best way to describe you.

the popstar turns his head around as you finally pass him, not-so-discreetly watching your ass move as you walk. something else catches his eye, however, as he watches you leave the store.

the back of your shirt is completely open, showing off your back all the way down, right to where your jeans begin to hug your body. michael's gaze lifts up only an inch or so from where it'd been resting on your butt, his eyes widening as he sees his name, michael jackson, etched in ink along the skin of your lower back.

michael jackson.

a tramp stamp of his name, michael jackson.

a tramp stamp of his name, michael jackson, in the most beautiful font, on the most silly and sexy woman he's ever encountered.

his mouth runs dry, his eyes glued to your backside as you and your friend finally exit. "oh wow," he finally manages, shifting his stance as he feels himself chubbing in his pants, dick perking up with careful interest. "oooo, that's real good fish," michael says, eyes lighting up as he lightly smacks the arm of his bodyguard in excitement, "i'm gonna get that girl— i've got to get that girl. did you see that? she's practically already mine! ooo, she's one of my girls, i like that. you've got to get her number for me. go follow her, i want to see her again. tell her... tell her she's won a michael jackson giveaway, or something."

he's almost mad he showed up to the mall wearing his fuck-ass disguise! it'd be so much easier to sweep you off your feet without this silly stuff on! then again, it's certainly more amusing this way. now, when michael meets with you (and he will, he's sure of it), he'll be able to tease you about how you completely passed him by, barely noticing that your idol was in the store, much less checking you out. oh, michael's gonna have so much fun with you, and you don't even know it yet!

looking for more?

this concept is funny and rlly fun to write, hopefully i can come back to it once i get reqs down some. younger perv michael steals panties and gets obsessive in the most immature way; i like to think older perv michael doesnt have to, he knows he's hot and he knows you're probably going for him (who isn't??). he doesnt have to steal your panties i think he'd honestly just ask. "i want your underwear after this ceremony tonight :) ah thanks baby you're so good to me" smth like that. thriller/thrad/bad era michael cannot relate. "hey girl i noticed you in the crowd teehee you're really pretty do you want to go to dinner with me? oh, you have a boyfriend? it's okay i'll go ask him. i'm sure he'll say yes, a pretty girl like you deserves to be happy and i know you'd be happy with me."

off topic i found this video on pinterest, michael you're too precious come back...

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.9k, fluff/crack ) manager!michael jackson x fem popstar!reader <3

cws: includes some crack hcs (not 100% canon to the manager!michael timeline by any means), modern-ish technology/trends, michael does the young ho bounce, mentions of reader drinking/clubbing with friends

young hos cook everything on high... every now and then, you'll get in the mood to cook, kindly telling the kitchen staff that you'll be handling today's breakfast/lunch/dinner. you make a show of it, tying back any stray hairs to keep them out of your face, slipping on a cute apron that you've worn maybe twice (again, it's not like you cook often), and getting out all the ingredients you need. then, you start cooking, turning the stove up because it'll probably take less time if you cook on a higher setting, right? you've got to wash the dishes when you're done, so it's best to make this quick.

"what's that smell?" prince murmurs, still half-asleep. paris follows in behind him with michael bringing up the rear, rubbing his eyes as he yawns a little.

"breakfast," you reply simply, continuing your efforts. it's not until you feel the presence of your boyfriend at your back that you actually turn your head, offering a smile.

"why is the stove so high?" he asks, reaching from behind you to turn it down to a more suitable temperature, "you'll burn the eggs, baby."

"it cooks it faster," you explain, "and i'm not gonna burn anything, michael. you just have to watch it."

an amused look crosses his face before he leans down and whispers into your ear, "i don't think that's how cooking works, sweetheart." after lowering the temperature, michael holds your hips, squeezing slightly as he kisses the back of your head. "i'm sure it'll taste fine, though," he adds, pulling away to usher the kids to their seats.

it does taste fine by the time you've finished, but michael's still considering taking up cooking classes with you just so that you don't cook every single thing on high.

young hos never have their physical card on them... "i think i left my card at home," you huff, checking your purse once or twice more as you stand in line at the register of some high end boutique. it's happened more times than you care to admit. "i've got cash," you say, but by the time you look up again, michael's already handed over his card. "i could've paid," you point out. all you get in response from michael is a shrug and a cheeky "i didn't want you to."

young hos always clean the whole house at once... there's staffers around that come in and clean, of course, but sometimes you want things cleaned your way. michael can tell whenever you're in one of your cleaning moods because you wake up and walk around humming; you can't clean without music. the kitchen, your shared bedroom, and the laundry room have all been tidied by ten or so, leaving the kids' rooms next on your agenda. by the end of the day, the whole house is tidied just how you like it!

young hos use anything as a chaser... right, because why are you in the club drinking applesauce as a chaser? your girls all laugh and scream in amusement as you search through your purse, already tipsy, and pull out an applesauce pouch you'd packed earlier that day for an outing with the kids. "laugh all you want, it works," you declare after, laughing with them.

young hos doing the young ho bounce... (and accidentally sending michael a video of it). this occurs, of course, after the chaser situation. you're clearly drunk in the recording, cackling with your girls and covering your mouth a little as you lean onto the girl towards your right. then, two girls start and the rest of you join in, bouncing your chest before falling out in pure amusement and covering the camera with your hand. it's still recording, picking up your voice as you say "that was so dumb" before giggling some more. you meant to send it to the group chat but accidentally send it to michael instead. whoops!

he doesn't bring it up right away, however, instead waiting until the next day to question you about it. michael watches as you wake up, a groan being the first thing to leave your lips in the morning. "there you are," he says softly, his voice brimming with affection. with one hand, he gestures to a glass of water and some pain medications at your bedside.

"thank you," you mumble, reaching for the water. closing your eyes, you take the pills and finish the entire glass, hoping it would flush out all the grogginess and discomfort.

michael watches you, smiling a little. then, he settles down close to you, a playful gleam hidden in his expression. "you didn't mean to send that video, did you, baby?"

you blink a little, then ask, "what video?"

"that video of you and your friends," he says, raising an eyebrow before sighing a little, still smiling. he lets his voice drop low as he bluntly adds, "you were moving your chest like this, all like this." demonstrating, he does a (very overdramatic, in your opinion) impersonation of you, bouncing his chest until you roll your eyes and push him away. the worst part is the fact that he's doing it well; you swear you can see his actual pecs bouncing!

"okay, okay, that video— no, it wasn't meant for you," you manage, chuckling, "stop that, stop michael, jesus..."

"it's kind of fun," michael admits, shrugging. it is fun for him, but mostly because of how embarrassed you get rather than the actual action itself.

want more manager!michael?

this was so fun/funny to write LOL i hope i captured the vibes well! also, it was nice to write manager!michael once more, returning to the club classics is always fun for me. this definitely isn't canon to them imo but i am a proponent of applesauce as a chaser like a good apple cinnamon applesauce... literally so yummers

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.8k, fluff ) thrad!michael jackson x gn makeup artist!reader <3

cws: nosebleeds & blood descriptions, cocky yet insecure!michael, reader is raceless (emma just used for visuals!)

       "i love you." you blink twice, then swallow. the words seem unreal from his lips and yet here you are, standing backstage and looking into the eyes of michael jackson, of all men. it's not too surprising that you're in front of him— you were his makeup artist, after all— but still! the crowds are likely at the front gates, the dancers, waiting for their cue, the lighting and sound crews all waiting in quiet, eager anticipation, and yet here you are.

being confessed to right before a concert was never on your bucket list.

"you don't mean that," you manage after several seconds of silence, eyes flickering from his face towards all the makeup sitting along the vanity nearby. feigning a sense of stoic professionalism, you reach for some powder, hoping to give off a detached air as your insides practically melt.

michael chuckles from his seat in front of you, tilting his head back in order for you to finish his makeup. "i do," he whispers playfully, "you can't tell me i don't. you're the only one i want to do my makeup, ever. but, i want more than that, too. i want to be your boyfriend. just hear me out—"

"michael, you're..." you trail, sputtering a little. at least your hands remember the job you're to do, moving automatically to apply some final touches to the apple-like curve of his cheeks. "this is— i mean—"

leaning out of his seat, he repeats himself more forcefully, "i love you." the popstar then settles back down, looking up into your eyes. "say it back," he coaxes, "we've been around each other for years, haven't we? you know me like no one else, you get me. i want this, i really love you."

he's too casual about this, you think, frowning. "i..." you start, only to pause as you note an unusual wetness in your nose. snot, maybe? but you're not crying, are you? "michael i..." you try again, stammering, "i like—"

"goodness," he whispers, reaching one hand forward to wipe at your top lip, "you're bleeding." most of michael's fingers rest against your chin or lower lip as he leans out of his seat once more, inspecting your face. you've spent years staring at his own face, quietly growing familiar with every last feature; it's odd, though, suddenly being on the opposite end of such an intense gaze.

dumbly, you ask. "i am?" oh, if only you could just go invisible...

"you are," michael giggles quietly, thumb brushing gingerly along your top lip and then again above that, right under your nose. "dating me isn't that scary, is it?"

your head shakes, "no, no, i— i'm sorry." stepping away, you search for something to plug your nose. after fumbling around you find some tissues, stuffing your left nostril and contemplating on checking the right, too. now, you look and sound like an idiot, eyes all wide, cheeks burning, with lips slightly parted for words that struggle to come out.

"don't be sorry," the popstar insists quickly, quietly, his voice all too intimate as he follows you, fully leaving his seat. "you're just so moved by my proclamation, you can't help it... it's adorable, really... does it hurt?"

"michael," you hiss around the tissue, brows furrowing; adorable isn't how you'd describe this moment by any means. "it doesn't hurt, no."

"good." then, he smirks a little, asking quietly, "you love me, don't you?"

you swallow, ignoring the taste of iron down your throat. "...you can't just confess right before a concert."

"why not?" he tilts his head, studying your expression before frowning slightly, "you love me, don't you?" it sounds a lot less cocky than it did just a second ago, as if michael never conceptualized you saying no until just now. insecurity flashes along his face, his eyes growing more concerned, his lips quirking down as he takes a half-step back. "don't you?"

"i do, i... yes," you admit, finally, nodding your head. "i do."

instantly, he brightens. "then it's fine," he remarks, taking a full step forward, ending up closer than he was before. "i've wanted to confess for a long time... i just never had the confidence. but tonight... this show... i really wanted to say something. i couldn't hold it in," michael explains, his voice soft, "so, forgive me for the suddenness. and for the nosebleed, too."

"it's fine, michael," you manage, eyes following the movement of his hand as he reaches to check your nose again. as his thumb moves the tissue some, you glance off to the side. "i still have to finish your makeup..."

"i know, but... let me check on you first. okay, baby?" he murmurs, the pet name slipping from his lips all too naturally.

baby... your heart nearly jumps out of your chest at the mere sound of the word leaving his lips. you opt to nod instead of speaking, refusing to add onto your embarrassment by possibility stuttering some more. it's only once you've finished his makeup and sent him onstage that you seem to fully grasp what had happened, leaving you both deeply flustered and extremely overjoyed.

looking for more?

this turned out uber cute imo and tysm for requesting anon! i'm trying to find that perfect balance with thrad michael because i believe he's still subby tbh but bratty about it. cocky, getting more confident each day while still nursing those insecurities which come up more than he cares to admit. the kind of guy to ask you out all smoothly because he rehearsed it in a mirror twenty times before. he never imagines rejection from you but is immediately crushed by the simple possibility. sort of a fake it till you make it situation until bad era, where he's more forward/shameless and plays into the shyness almost as an act while still being rather introverted. once his socialization meter runs out he's done, he's still charming but quieter. then in his other eras he shifts away from edgy sexy to sensual sexy, mature sexy, husband sexy (who will still put you through the bed ofc but is deff less childish abt it). think "yeah i know you want me, baby " vs "you want me to take care of you, baby?" it is DIFFERENT.

srry this turned into a characterization/personality/growth analysis rant whatever. thrad michael we adore you here.

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.7k, fluff ) michael jackson x fem afab reader <3

cws: reader going through her period, reader has an intense menstruation cycle/experience, strong nausea described, mentions of potential vomiting (no actual vomiting described), michael is a sweetheart about caring for her

it's hard to imagine michael being any sweeter than he already is, but he tries his best to be extra considerate and doting when your period comes each month! though it's easy for him to get lost in his work and his creative vices, he tries to practice patience and kindness with you, carefully listening to everything you do (and don't) say to figure out what you need.

having grown up with sisters alongside brothers, he's not completely clueless on how to help you feel better. "oh, baby," michael coos softly to you as he sees you curled up in bed, holding your lower stomach in pain. he's quick to kneel by your side, his hand finding yours for a second before he decides, "i'll go get the heating pad, okay? i'll be right, right back."

the worst part from his perspective is the cramping. there's only so much he can do to ease the sensation and, of course, not knowing how it feels throws michael off a little. "do you want me to hold you?" he asks quietly, big brown eyes watching you as you let out a noise of discomfort. when you say no, he tries to pivot to something else. "should i change the room temperature?" no... "maybe i could get you a cool drink?" no... "alright... i have some pain medicine, downstairs. would that help at all?" finally, a yes!

symptoms like nausea and headaches come and go as they please throughout the duration of your period, leaving you on edge. it's not like they're triggered by anything in particular. you could be cooking eggs and all of a sudden you feel the urge to vomit into the pan.

"god," you whine, stepping away from the pan and covering your mouth with your hand. it's not enough to just feel nauseous; you can sense a headache slowly forming in the back of your skull, too. already exhausted, you try to take a deep breathe. then, you look for a glass to get some water.

fortunately, michael overhears you from the room over. he steps in just as you feel another wave of queasiness hit, his brows furrowed as he asks, "what's wrong?"

"nothing, mikey," you manage, eyes closing momentarily. "i don't know, i just feel so sick."

"your stomach or your head?" he murmurs, one hand moving to the small of your back as he guides you into sitting down.

it's only after sitting that you admit, "i feel nauseous." then, you exhale, swallowing nothing in particular while resting your head in your hands, elbows on the table. "i think i just need breakfast and some water."

"breakfast and some water," michael repeats, nodding, "i can handle that. it's just one of those days, huh? it's okay, baby, just sit tight."

"i can finish the eggs," you offer weakly, lifting your gaze just enough to watch him move about the kitchen, filling your glass with water and handing it to you.

"no, you can't. and that's okay," he says, kissing your temple, "let me handle it." there's no room for argument, of course. michael takes pleasure in being the one to take care of you like this, humming very softly as he finishes out your breakfast and makes sure you're well enough to eat it.

you could ask michael "do you love me?" twenty times in one day and he'd respond differently each time, all while reaffirming that yes, he does love you. "love you? i adore you," he replies, beaming at you. or maybe it's later in the evening, and he's getting ready for bed. "of course, i do. i can't sleep when you're not near me, you know." or maybe you're curled up in his lap, sighing softly and tearing up. oh, how tenderly michael dries your eyes, his heartstrings tugged thin at the sight of you looking so upset. "more than anything in the world, i love you. i love you so much, sweetheart. i love you," he insists, going on and on until you finally believe him.

he takes time to do little things for you, buying you sweet treats, kissing you all over in the small, undiscussed places (the back of your thighs, along your shoulder blades, your fingertips), and more. michael even rubs your feet when you ask for it, chuckling as he does so.

those little period cravings you get are the cutest thing to him. the weirder, the better. he's fascinated in the combinations you come up with, sometimes even trying them with you when you're willing to share. michael just thinks each craving is so uniquely you; how could he not find it endearing?

looking for more?

i think this piece turned out so darling, i'm so content with it! also, just imagining him going to the convenience store in disguise because he wants to personally buy you this very specific brand/type of snack combo you're craving is so cute to me. michael jackson spotted leaving 7-eleven with straight bullshit in his bags LOL.

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.7k, nsfw ) (secretly manipulative) bsf thriller!michael jackson x fem afab manipulative bsf!reader: an expansion pack to this post <3

cws: reader and michael are overly attached best friends, nsfw mentioned intermittently but it's not everything, mildly (?) obsessive!michael, definitely perv!michael but perv!reader as well, barely proofread, both of you guys are weird and freaky so it kind of balances out

       just thinking about your best friend, michael, and his mild (?) obsession with you. it's cute that you think you're being sneaky, creeping into his room to surprise him with a visit. the nap was real and necessary, but leaving his door wide open? he did that on purpose, just for you. he's all spread on his bed, laying on his stomach with head turned to the side, one cheek resting against the plush of his pillow. slowly, he breathes in and out, feigning sleep as he hears you walk closer. your hands run lightly along his back and he has to resist the urge to giggle; you were always so bold whenever you thought he wouldn't know. eventually you shake him awake, forcing him to fake a yawn and a sleepy smile as he turns to face you fully.

"hm? oh, g'morning... i wasn't out for too long, was i?"

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.8k, fluff (?) ) (secretly manipulative) thriller!michael jackson x gn manipulative!reader <3

cws: manipulation by both parties to certain extents (reader likes corrupting, michael is aware and likes being corrupted so he eggs you on), slight perv!michael, possessive!michael at the end

the amount of people that michael actively considers real, true friends can be counted in full on one hand. chief among these friends is you, one of his neighbors whom he met almost immediately after moving to encino. "that neighborhood brat," joe would call you, eyes narrowed as you peered around their property and, when you were older, as you began babysitting around the neighborhood, eventually nannying somewhat for the jacksons. if michael's father didn't like you, that must've meant you were someone good, and boy, you really were sweet while taking care of randy and janet, doting like a big sister or mother would.

whenever he got the opportunity to talk to you, he took it, even if he took it shyly. he'd hesitate several times before asking how your day had been or if you wanted anything to drink. "mother told me to ask you..." was his favorite way of starting conversation, at least when you were younger. michael slowly got more comfortable, enough to not need any excuses to speak with you. soon enough, it's all "i was wondering..." and "do you think..."; eventually, he greets you with genuine familiarity, smiling as he walks over, "there you are!"

now, you're true blue friends, having stuck it out through thick and thin. well, you say you're friends... in reality, you've coaxed michael into something a little more intimate than a casual friendship. over the years, the two of you have gotten closer and closer, blurring the line between friendship and something more. it's not rare to find you two settled along the couch for a movie, laying down together with your back to his chest. his lips move against your hair, his eyes focused on the screen as he speaks about whatever's on his mind.

or, finding you two in bed together, napping on those rare days where michael can afford the downtime. he's got his arms wrapped around you, clinging to you in his sleep while one of his legs tangle with yours. "i sleep better with a friend in bed," he defends himself to his brothers when one of them (usually jermaine or jackie) comments on it. "don't make it into something gross."

"i need a kiss," he mumbles in your ear every so often, taking hold of your hand and bringing it to his chest, "i need one of those friend kisses, i had a real rough day." michael bats his lashes, biting his lip until you agree. how funny; you were the one who introduced the concept, kissing him on the cheek one day, but he's the one who keeps asking for it again and again (and insisting you kiss him on the lips, just as friends).

michael doesn't seem to think much of it— why would he? it's normal, it's friendship. from the very beginning, he'd let you set the boundaries of the relationship, and, from the very beginning, you'd decided there wouldn't be any. "this is what friends do," you'd reassure him, holding his hand in your own. michael never asked any further questions about it. it's not like he had other friendships around his age to compare this one to. besides, he's quite fond of the extra attention. overly fond of the extra attention, even.

so overly fond that maybe he knows you're not really friends, not in a normal way, but he doesn't care. it's cute watching your eyes gleam when you think you've pulled one over on him. it's cute when you insist that you're both just friends as michael asks with mock-innocence about his hands along your thighs. it's so cute, too cute, how you think you're in charge just because he's a little shy.

"you're my best friend," he admits quietly in your ear one evening, holding you between his legs while one of his favorite movies plays on the tv. michael's lips find the soft skin of your neck, pressing a light kiss— feather light, feigning hesitation— "that's okay, right? that i do that?"

"yeah, of course," you breath out, nodding, "because we're best friends."

"good. i'd hate to make you uncomfortable," he whispers, kissing your neck again before settling. toeing the line but never pushing it, not yet. knowing you, you'll push it yourself, surprising michael one day with the idea of "friend-sex". he'll blink and blush and bat his eyelashes like the good boy he is, all while grinning on the inside. he smiles at the thought alone before murmuring, "thank you for being my friend. my best friend. i'm your best friend, right?"

"mhmm," you hum, "you're my best friend, michael."

"your only best friend, right?"

you nod, "my one and only. best friends forever."

just what he wants to hear. "best friends forever," michael repeats, his big hands gripping you just a little bit tighter against him in a pseudo-hug. best friends forever— or at least until you get the balls to ask him for more.

looking for more?

michael and reader and their freaky mind games. if you ever found out just how much he really knew and enjoyed your perversion of things, he'd just deflect it on you— "says the one who invented 'friend kisses' just to kiss me!"— plus, since you're one of (if not the only) friend he has his age, he's possessive over you. "friends" or otherwise, you're very special to him. i can lwk see him getting creepy freaky abt it... 5 likes and i will expand my thoughts on michael being a bit of a creep abt you.

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.3k, nsfw ) boob obsessed (bad era)!michael jackson x fem afab (with small boobs!)reader <3

cws: boob fondling/play, nipple pinching, michael is (again) in love with your rack

       the sight alone is as embarrassing as it is arousing. as much as you might complain about your small breasts, lamenting about how you look flat or boyish, michael has only ever found them to be cute. they're especially adorable with his palm over top of them— that's right, one palm over top of them both. well, nearly over them both, anyways. the curve of his right palm rests flat along the nipple of one of your breasts, cupping whatever's there while his fingertips reach and brush your other nipple. it's a possessive hold more than anything, fingers splayed and firm against your skin to keep you in your spot while his other hand explores elsewhere. michael's never overly rough but he's not above a solid grip, forcing you to stay against his chest or pressing your back along some wall.

"look at that," he breathes out, grinning as his middle and ring fingers brush along your uncovered nipple. as you start to stiffen due to his consistent touching, he hums and uses both fingers to lightly pinch your nipple. he even tugs a little, kissing your neck when you gasp or whine, "relax, it's just me. ah, they're so cute."

it's easy for michael to pick up on your rapid heartbeat considering his hand covering so much of your chest; naturally, he teases you about that, too. "you're so excited," he remarks, giving your nipple a break as he focuses in on your heart beneath his hand and your own skin, "i love seeing you this way..." how could he not? you might have a complex over how small your rack is, but boobs are boobs!

"they barely bounce, michael!"

"i'm so flat..."

"they barely even count as boobs..."

all excuses, in michael's eyes. none of that matters, and he's quick to tell you that. then, after he tells you, he shows you, fondling and sucking along your chest until your nipples are all puffy and you're crying out in pleasure rather than insecurity.

looking for more?

another boob piece for my people with small boobs! shorter than usual but i wanted to keep this a pretty quick and sweet blurb. i do adore smaller boobs... but much like michael i am a boob warrior so i like them all. LOL. i know his hands would feel so good on your boobs, too, like just warm and smooth, the curve of his palm right along your breast, not even squeezing but genuinely holding them and letting his thumb brush against your skin... fawkkk MJ. GET BACK HERE. NOW!!!!

( ˶°ㅁ°) !!   0.5k, fluff ) "thick" (moonfaced) thrad!michael jackson x gn reader: written specifically for @cinnamoncunt <3

cws: michael being insecure over his face/appearance, he's dismissive/bratty but comes around in the end

       your boyfriend, michael, is such a cutie pie. he's always been completely and utterly adorable, what with his healthy lashes, shy smile, and big disney-like doe eyes, but recently, as a result of his lupus medications, his face has rounded out, adding to his innocent look. now, his cheeks are full and plump, his jawline softening in a way that makes him appear cherubic. while he complains about the change to you, upset at how soft and pudgy he looks, you can't help secretly liking it. what's so wrong with being less angular, less sharp?