mia

𝒹e jolis mots pour dé jolies personnes ⊹ s!her taurus-baby

afro-latina I write sometimes requests/asks always open!

MICHAEL JACKSON

꣑ৎ daydreams 18+

I’m writing this because I recently came across a blog and post that heavily mirrored my own work, from the master list design down to the specific phrasing, title, and concept of one of my stories. seeing that specific post gain a lot of traction without any credit to where it originated has been really disappointing.

writing is something I genuinely love to do, and I put a lot of time and effort into creating original content for this community. while fandom is all about shared ideas and taking inspiration, there is a very fine line between being inspired by someone’s work and taking their exact text and formatting it as your own.

I’m not making this post to name names, direct hate, or put anyone on the spot. I just want to bring awareness to how much it hurts original creators when their work is being taken without credit. it is very easy to copy a blog and have it take off, but behind the original post is a person who put hours into making it.

m. jackson off the wall sweet release ◞ 18+

tgs ◞ sexual themes fingering soft dominant michael female orgasm praise grinding michaels hands. that’s it, that’s the plot very short ╱ to michael, loving his girl is an art to form—and his hands are completely devoted to worshipping her.

there was an innate, undeniable gentleness in the way michael used his hands.

it was always a matter of soft precision. whether you were watching him in the high-energy environment of the studio or in the quiet comfort of home, his hands were never truly still. his fingers would instinctively tap against a wooden table, catching the phantom rhythm of a passing beat. other times, when the music surged through him during a vocal take, those same hands would tighten into a sudden, passionate fist. a physical manifestation of a soul entirely tuned to sound.

but you especially loved watching him when he was lost in the quiet labyrinth of his own thoughts, his hands moving with a soft, restless intelligence. he would sit hunched over a notebook, his fingers deftly twirling a pen back and forth as he searched for the perfect lyric, the plastic spinning like an effortless extension of his mind. when a concept was still forming, he would pace the length of the room, one hand resting thoughtfully on his hip while the other cupped his chin, his thumb slowly tracing the familiar line of his jaw.

it was in the quieter, more private moments where his hands seemed to speak a language entirely of their own.

whenever the two of you had to navigate a bustling crowd, any rising anxiety would instantly melt away the moment you felt the reassuring weight of his long fingers wrapping securely around yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles over the back of your hand. in the sanctuary of his bedroom, that touch became even more focused. he would sit patiently behind you, his fingers incredibly light and deliberate as he threaded them through your hair, helping you finish the last of your braids.

but it was during the most tender, breathless moments that his touch felt truly sacred. he would reach out to gently frame your face, his palms warm against your cheeks, before leaning in to press his lips to yours with a sweetness so profound it made the rest of the world simply fade away. and later, when you were both just resting together in the quiet, he would mindlessly massage your scalp or trace slow, lingering lines across your back until you were completely relaxed.

michael’s touch had always served as a constant, silent reminder of how deeply he cared.

it was simply in his nature to be gentle; it was a baseline of patience that never seemed to waver when it came to you. every slow movement of his hands, every lingering point of contact, felt like his own private way of translating wordless devotion into something tangible.

and what other possible way could michael prove his love to you, if not like this? using nothing but his fingers.

as michael hovered over you, you were already melting completely into the plush cushion of his dark duvet. your body was beautifully bare, stripped of every layer until there was nothing left but all of you, exposed for just his eyes to take in. your cheeks burned with a fierce, blooming heat. your lips, slick and flushed from his previous kisses, parted as a string of soft, breathless whimpers slipped helplessly past them.

the sharp, slick sound of his fingers pumping in and out of you echoed dirtily in the quiet space of his bedroom. your back bowed off the mattress, the soft warmth of your bare breasts pressing flush against michael’s clothed chest. the contrast of rough fabric against your sensitized skin made your head roll back. michael brought his face down to hover just inches over your own, his heavy-lidded eyes dark, pupils dilated to absolute oblivion as he drank in the sight of your ruined state.

“try to stay quiet for me, mama.” michael whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against your ear before he shifted, pressing a feathered, comforting kiss to the very corner of your trembling mouth.

you whimpered in immediate protest. you had tried. wholeheartedly and desperately tried to keep your moans and whimpers locked behind your teeth. but with the malicious, perfect way michael flexed his fingers inside of you, curling them upwards to hit that sensitive spot over and over, it was a losing battle. he didn't show a single sign of slowing down his agonizingly thorough ministrations, let alone stopping, making it damn near impossible to keep a single sound from tearing out of your throat.

and michael felt the shift immediately. he tracked the exact moment your body surrendered completely, melting into the heavy pressure of his fingers. inside you, the tight, sweet pulse of your walls gripped him, a desperate, welcoming friction that nearly stole his breath. you were hovering right on the edge. he could see it in the sudden stutter of your hips, the hard curl of your toes in the air, and the deep, agonizing arch of your spine. your fingers tangled blindly into the soft sheets beneath you, knuckles turning white as your eyes fluttered shut in complete, unadulterated bliss.

to be completely honest, watching you unspool almost brought him to his own limit. the heavy stretch against the dark denim of his jeans became unmistakably pronounced, an ache so sharp and stiff it made his breath catch. just knowing that he was the one driving you to this point, that his hands could command this kind of reaction from you, flooded him with a dark, possessive pride. your pleasure was entirely contagious.

as your moans began to fracture, growing louder in the quiet room, michael leaned down to catch them. he pressed his lips softly, deliberately against yours. you melted into the contact instantly, your arms sweeping up to anchor around his broad shoulders. he curled his middle finger inside you, targeting that sweet spot, and a breathless gasp tore from your throat straight into his mouth. michael hummed, a low, resonant vibration that rumbled deep in his throat and echoed against your collarbone. he deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue past your parted lips, your breaths and rhythms tangling together into something seamless and hot.

slowly, the familiar, tight coil of heat began to pool low in your abdomen, spreading like liquid fire. your thighs began to tremble against his hips, your breath hitching in quick, uneven puffs. the rest of the world blurred into background noise, narrowing your entire universe down to the flawless, devastating rhythm of michael’s fingers. you were hyper-aware of everything: the comforting weight of his body pinning you down, the intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with clean sweat and warm skin, and the contrast of his soft, sweet lips against your own. the sheer sensory overload made your mind beautifully hazy, leaving you no choice but to let go and sink entirely into him.

“mikey,” you whimpered into the heat of the kiss, the words breaking apart against his lips. “too good… oh god, m’close—“

michael hummed, a low sound of approval as his lips drifted sideways, pressing a soft, tender kiss into the flushed flesh of your cheek. his eyes fluttered shut, eyelashes tickling your skin as he nuzzled his nose affectionately into your hair, breathing you in. “I know, beautiful. I know.”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice dropping into a register that was low and smooth like honey. he leaned back just an inch, resting his forehead against yours so you were forced to look at him, while his free hand came to rest heavily on the warm curve of your hip. “let me make you feel good.”

michael’s hand drifted downward, tracing a slow path from your hip down to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. he anchored himself there, shifting his weight just enough so his thumb could press loving, gentle circles right over the hyper-sensitive skin of your clit. at the sudden dual stimulation, your entire system went electric. you arched up instinctively beneath his touch, your spine bending off the mattress as your head sank deep into the pillow. your lips parted in a silent gasp, your eyebrows knitting together in a tight furrow as your eyes squeezed shut against the intensity.

michael groaned at the sheer sight of your unraveling. beneath his hands, he could feel your walls fluttering in a frantic rhythm around his fingers, the muscles of your thighs starting to shake uncontrollably against him. a breathless moan finally tore from your throat as his fingers worked inside you, driving you to chase that tight, agonizing knot coiled deep in your belly. the relentless, friction of his thumb was enough to send your senses into absolute overdrive. before you could even catch your breath, the coil snapped. a blinding rush of heat shattered through you, leaving your limbs trembling violently in the wake of the waves of pleasure.

hearing your breathless moans as you were pushed over the edge, watching your thighs convulse and tighten as you completely let go, was the final straw. It was enough to make michael entirely undo himself in his pants. he exhaled a shaky, ragged breath, gradually slowing the rhythm of his fingers to let you ride out the peaking waves of pleasure. leaning down, he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder, peppering tender kisses down the warm column of your neck.

“michael,” you breathed, your legs finally falling limp and heavy against the mattress.

michael hummed against your skin, sliding his warm palm across the lingering tremors of your thighs, gently soothing the overstimulated muscles. as he slowly withdrew his fingers, his hand and wrist were painted slick with your sweet release. he looked down at it for a fraction of a second, a dark glance of pure satisfaction crossing his features; he truly wouldn't have it any other way.

“I’m right here.” michael murmured, his breath hot against your throat. he reluctantly pulled his lips away from your skin so he could get a clear look at your face. your lips were flushed and swollen, your eyes half-lidded and heavy with absolute satisfaction. his own deep brown doe eyes met yours, melting with affection. you smiled weakly, summoning the strength to reach up and rest your palm against the soft of his cheek.

mirroring your smile, michael leaned in close, pressing a deeply devoted kiss against your open palm before resting his forehead against yours, breathing you in. “you okay?” he asked, his voice thick and loaded with genuine concern. you nodded, letting out a soft, contented sigh through your nose.

“mhm... so much more than okay,” you whispered, the words barely carrying across the quiet room.

“good,” he murmured.

as michael leaned down to press a deep, lingering kiss to your lips, he slid his hands back down to the flesh of your thighs. he kneaded the soft skin, guiding your legs up to wrap securely around his waist. he rolled his hips forward, and a sharp gasp caught in your throat when the heavy, aching bulge of his denim pressed directly against the hyper-sensitive skin of your folds. michael groaned at the contact. a low, hungry sound that vibrated between your mouths. he broke the kiss to trail hot, open-mouthed bites down the side of your throat, his hips starting to move against you in a slow, agonizingly gentle rhythm.

“now let me show you how much I love you, baby.”

m. jackson off the wall daydreams ◞ 18+

tgs ◞ erotic fantasies sexual themes p in v riding overstimulation michael being very needy and submissive slight breeding kink ╱ michael daydreaming about his beloved co-star using him.

michael honestly, truthfully couldn’t help himself.

he knew it was wrong, that it bordered on something far too desperate, far too salacious, but the magnetic pull toward you was something he couldn't fight anymore. you radiated confidence the exact second you stepped into any room. you were just so gentle, speaking in a soft, melodic tone that consistently left his mind spinning in a total daze. and you looked the part just as damn good. his eyes always tracked the way your hair was styled in those beautiful, juicy tight curls that bounced every time you laughed. then there was that signature lipgloss you always wore, leaving a perfect, shimmering sheen that made michael wish he had the courage to just lean in and kiss it right off you. you moved with such effortless grace, fitting flawlessly into everything you wore. whether it was structured blouses, tight pants that held your shape, or god forbid, a shirt where your cleavage peaked out just enough to make him completely forget his train of thought.

you were a dream to him, downright ethereal. you were easily one of the most breathtaking women to ever cross his path. ever since quincy first introduced the two of you, michael found himself entirely ensnared. it felt like you were a siren singing out from the deep ocean water, he knew the danger, yet he couldn't help but plunge right into the depths, falling into your trap every single time. it certainly didn't help that your actual singing voice was just as intoxicating. you were already legendary for your record-breaking albums consistently dominating the global charts, possessing a tone that was instantly recognizable all over the world. so naturally, when quincy brought up the genius idea of featuring you on a track for the off the wall album, michael didn't even hesitate to say yes.

that decision birthed endless, exhausting late nights spent inside the dim warmth of the studio. the two of you would huddle close, helping each other smooth out difficult lines, refusing to let your vocal cords rest until every single note hit the absolute perfect pitch. you would lean against the mixing console, laughing until your sides hurt while rewinding your mistakes over and over again. when you finally sang together, your voices blended with a seamless, supernatural ease, acting like a vocal yin and yang. the final two missing pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. quincy and the songwriters would stand outside the glass of the recording booth, watching in awe. you two created what was a flawless melody, a divine sound that quincy could only describe as something sent straight down from the heavens above.

michael deeply admired you, but above all else, he respected you. he loved your work, your voice, and that fierce, consuming passion you had for music that mirrored his very own. but michael knew he wasn’t the only one who saw how brilliant you were. reading the ridiculous tabloid dating rumors and seeing your past public relationships play out in the media only crushed his spirits, convincing him that he would never truly stand a chance. he forced himself to believe he was just a temporary collaborator, that your bond was strictly professional, and that a sterile work relationship was all it was ever meant to be.

but the more michael tried to suppress his heavy feelings, the stronger and more violent they grew.

the days started to bleed into one long, quiet daydream, and it always found its way back to you. you could be sitting right across from him, right in front of his face, having the most normal, mundane conversation about nothing at all, but he wasn’t really there. his gaze would inevitably lose its focus, drifting slow and heavy down to your lips. in his head, the noise of the room faded out, replaced by the vivid, quiet warmth of imagining those lips locked tightly against his own. he could see it so clearly, the way they would turn flushed and bruised from the pressure, soft and slick, parted with sticky strings of saliva.

it was a beautiful, dizzying sort of ache that pulled at his chest every single time it happened. then his eyes would wander up to yours. those beautiful, big eyes that usually held so much bright joy and effortless light. that light would shift into something much deeper, something thick and intoxicating. he imagined those wide eyes looking down at him, heavy with a potent mixture of love and raw lust, your pupils completely blown out and dark. you would just look at him like that, completely unbended, letting him sink deeper and deeper into you.

“i just wanna take care of you, michael,” you would whisper against his lips, handling him with such a fragile, desperate kind of love, your fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jawline. he could feel the ghost of your touch caressing his face, your mouth peppering slow, deliberate kisses starting from the very corner of his lips, moving out to his cheek, dragging down his jaw, and pressing deep into the sensitive of his throat. a shiver would wreck him before you came back up, placing one final, lingering promise against his mouth. “i love you.”

he imagined guiding the slow, heavy tilt of your waist as you rolled your hips on top of him. there was no space left between you, just the intense, unfiltered heat of bare skin against skin. michael could see it, feel it in real time. the frantic, welcoming pull of your velvety walls stretching around him so deliciously inside. he anchor-mapped your movements, entirely trapped beneath the hypnotic rhythm of your weight shifting over him, where every single friction and small adjustment drew a sharp, helpless groan from his chest.

michael’s hands trembled where they rested against your ribs, his fingers gripping tight into your skin as his eyes grew completely glossed over and hazy, blind to the rest of the bedroom. his entire body thrummed with a sharp, overstimulated ache that reached all the way to his bones. the muscles of his thighs locked tight while his stomach clenched hot and heavy, his mind fracturing as his body became completely undone by the overwhelming, cascading wave of his third release.

michael knew with absolute certainty that if he ever got the chance, if the dream ever broke through into reality and he found himself in your bed, he would surrender every single bit of control to you, just like this. he didn’t want to lead, he wanted to be used for your pleasure, to let you ride him until you were completely exhausted and satisfied. he wanted to be a resource for you, an object of your desire, entirely yours to take and shape however you pleased.

“it’s all yours,” michael spoke aloud into the quiet room, the declaration tearing out of him. his voice was shaky and ruined, breaking apart into nothing as guttural whines scraped past his throat, his chest heaving for air. “’m all yours.”

you nodded, biting down hard on your lip as a hot flush crept up your neck, the raw sound of his broken whimpers sending a sudden, electric ache straight to your core. you paused the steady up-and-down rhythm to roll your hips in tight, agonizingly deep circles that made him twitch beneath you. you let out a low, shuddering groan, sinking all the way down onto him as michael’s length inched even deeper into your heat, pressing sweet and heavy against your cervix.

“y’feel so good. i can’t—” michael gasped, the words catching painfully in his throat as his breath hitched.

you leaned down, your hand coming up to gently squeeze michael’s cheeks between your thumb and index finger, cradling his face. your lips ghosted over his own, teasingly close, as you stared down into his blown, brown eyes. he looked up at you with a gaze so full of raw devotion it felt as if you had just hung the stars in his sky.

“you can,” you spoke, your voice slipping out sultry and low against his mouth. “i know you can, mikey. for me.”

and god, michael could have cummed right then and there from the sheer warmth of his nickname on your lips. having you completely dominant on top of him, completely unafraid to take exactly what you wanted and use him until he was nothing but a blabbering, shaky, fucked-out mess, drove him entirely past his absolute limit.

his chest rose and fell in quick, ragged puffs, his ribs straining against your fingers. a dark heat flushed his cheeks as his eyebrows knitted together in sweet agony, his teeth catching his bottom lip right where the faint, sweet shine of your lipgloss still stained his skin.

“’m gonna have your babies,” you moaned out as michael’s ridges slid deep against your walls, effortlessly finding and rubbing against every perfect, aching spot inside you.

michael nodded helplessly, his mind far too clouded by pleasure to form a single coherent thought. his focus narrowed down to a fine point until he could only register the staggering heat of your bare body pinned against his, your walls coiling so desperately tight around his cock that it made his legs tremble beneath you.

you continued the relentless rhythm without an ounce of hesitation, your hips lifting high before driving back down hard against his own. the sound of skin against skin filling the suffocating, hot air around your tangled bodies. the exact moment the you shifted, michael twitched beneath you, a look of pure, lovesick devotion instantly taking over his blown-out gaze. his hands tightened desperately against the meat of your hips, his fingers bruising your skin as he used every single ounce of strength he had left in his body to arch his waist up and meet you.

“ugh,” you breathed, your breath warm against the curve of his jaw. “you feel amazing, michael.”

you sank lower against him, tracing the heated line of his collarbone with your tongue before sinking your teeth into the soft, bruised dip above his shoulder. michael let out a low, ragged moan, his head tilting back into the mattress to lay his throat bare for you. “oh god. jesus help me,” he pleaded, the words fracturing into a breathless whisper.

you swiped your tongue over the sharp sting of the fresh mark, a soothing balm against his skin. anchoring your palms flat against the rigid muscle of his thighs, you adjusted your weight, widening your stance to press even harder against him as your pace quickened. damp curls clung to your forehead, but your focus never wavered from the dark, mapping bruises of devotion you had claimed him with. the visual evidence of how completely he belonged to you sent a tight shudder up your spine. your limbs grew heavy with exhaustion and heat, the boundary between your own skin and his blurring until you were just blindly following the rhythm of him.

“michael, love,” you whimpered, the vulnerability slipping out before you could stop it. his heavy lids fluttered open, his dazed eyes locking onto yours for a split second before dropping down, entirely transfixed by the relentless movement of you taking his cock so fully and desperately. watching his cum form a frothy white ring around his base, another helpless, broken sound tore from his throat. his gaze completely glassed over with pure, unyielding adoration.

“’m almost there,” you groaned, your eyebrows knitting together. “touch me, baby. please,” you begged, the words breaking apart on your tongue.

michael’s hand left the curve of your hip, sliding over your skin until his palm pressed right up against you. his long, slender fingers anchored heavy on your inner thigh for balance while he pressed the pad of his thumb against your center, dragging slow, deep, and agonizingly tight circles around the sensitive bud. “like this?” he breathed, his chest heaving as his dark, blown-out eyes looked straight up into yours, desperately seeking your approval.

the moment his thumb moved, your body tensed as if an electric wire had snapped right beneath your skin. your body coiled fiercely around his, constricting so deeply that a sudden, sharp shock of heat shot straight up his spine. his lips parted instantly, a broken, choking gasp escaping his throat as he watched your expression completely fracture into pure, undeniable bliss. “oh. oh my—jesus.” he panted against the air.

you arched your spine off the bed, throwing away any sense of control as you drove your hips into a faster, frantic pace, your toes curling tight into the fabric of the duvet. michael let out a low, guttural groan so loud it echoed in the quiet room, though he didn’t even register the sound, nor did he care. being far too swept up and blissed out to even remember his own damn name.

the pressure built heavily in his lower belly, his stomach pooling with a thick, familiar heat as his eyes fluttered. his vision began to swim, his eyelids growing too heavy to keep open as he fought the instinct to let them roll back. his jaw went completely slack, his breath catching in his lungs. through the haze, he saw the beautiful way your face twisted in the shadows, feeling the sweet pulsing of you around him while your knees grew wobbly and weak. he felt the rhythm break, knowing down to his bones that you were falling over the edge right along with him.

“’m close, so close,” he whimpered, the words caught in his throat as his thumb kept up its relentless, desperate circles against your throbbing, puffy clit. you smiled down at him with nothing but pure love, nodding as you leaned lower, pressing your forehead against his own until your breath mingled in the space between you.

“yes, with me, michael,” you whispered, your eyes glossing over with a thick sheet of tears. the pads of your thumbs traced his flushed cheeks, grounding him, before your lips pressed firmly against his own. your tongues parted and met in a soft, deep, and completely consuming kiss. michael melted entirely against you, his eyes fluttering closed as his large, heavy hands came up to anchor flat against your upper back, pulling you down until there was no space left between you.

michael could feel your bodies starting to blur at the edges, merging until you were completely one. your heartbeats pounded so loudly he could hear the thudding echo from your chest, synchronizing perfectly into a single, melodic rhythm. with his damp curls stuck messy against the side of his flushed face, he firmly believed it in his soul, that god had carved you out as an angel to live among humans, that you were some kind of alluring, beautiful deity meant just for him to worship.

he wanted to get lost in this feeling forever, completely paralyzed by how real it felt as the entire map of your lives flashed before his eyes in vivid colors. he saw the two of you performing on stage together, sharing the spotlight before coming back home to the quiet, exhausted safety of each other's arms. he pictured the rush of getting ready backstage, of you standing proud in the very front row at his shows, and him watching from the front row at yours, entirely lovesick. he saw a life built on goodness, donating to charities together, traveling to help kids all around the world, and uniting broken people through the shared language of your music. and then, in the quietest, most precious part of his mind, he saw the two of you growing old and grey together. he imagined making so, so many babies with you, his hands resting on the soft curve of your swelling belly, feeling the steady, miraculous heartbeat that the two of you had created all on your own.

“michael.”

michael blinked. once, twice, the hazy edges of his fantasy fracturing as his focus snapped back to reality. the sharp acoustic padding of the recording booth rushed back into view, replacing the phantom heat of your skin. his eyebrows knitted together ever so slightly, his eyes darting from the blank studio walls to the gray carpet beneath his feet, trying to ground himself.

“michael,” you repeated, your own brows twisting with fond concern. the heavy studio headphones hung loosely around your neck, and you dipped your head forward to catch his downcast gaze. when those wide, brown bambi eyes finally locked onto yours, you let out a soft laugh. a sound that instantly sent a wave of liquid warmth straight to his chest.

“are you okay? quincy’s been calling your name for the past five minutes. you already missed your cue.”

michael let out a low sigh, the corners of his lips tugging upward as he stared at you, completely entranced. “have i?” he murmured.

“mhm,” you hummed, stepping closer. you tilted up on your toes, your small hand coming up to cup his jaw as you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his cheek.

michael closed his eyes, swallowing the sudden lump in his throat as he anchored himself to the sensation of your slick, glossy lips parting against his skin. when his eyes fluttered open again, his gaze was completely uncovered, raw adoration shining through. you just giggled shyly at his expression, letting your hand drop to rest against his shoulder. “you did good today,” you spoke, “I’m proud of you.”

at your praise, michael could feel his heart skip a full beat.

“you must’ve been daydreaming again,” you teased, unhooking your headphones to drape them over the microphone stand. you turned on your heel, already heading toward the studio door. “also, our lunch break already started, your gonna miss it if you don’t hurry.”

but michael stood entirely frozen long after the door clicked shut behind you. he forced a ragged breath through his teeth, clenching his jaw as he tried to quiet his racing pulse. the exact spot where your lips had touched his cheek burned like an iron brand, replaying behind his eyelids on an endless, agonizing loop. the lingering thrill of the daydream, crashed into the reality of that brief touch, sending a sudden heavy rush of blood straight to his groin. his trousers grew tight and constricting, leaving him alone in the quiet booth with a pulsing ache. a beautiful, agonizing problem that only you could cause, and only you could solve.

hi! I promise I’m coming out with new and better fanfics soon! I’ve been dealing with some crazy writer's block lately. while rereading some of my old stories, I felt like my depictions of michael weren’t entirely accurate, and the storylines felt a bit rushed and short.

I have such a passion for writing, and it’s something I genuinely love to do. I can’t speak for everyone, but I know many authors (including myself) start to become self-conscious, compare themselves to other writers, and get frustrated. I just feel like I haven't been writing to the best of my abilities lately.