#frank dileo

[pourunhomme]

Frank DiLeo

[camyfilms]

GOODFELLAS 1990

You mean, let me understand this cause, ya know maybe it's me, I'm a little fucked up maybe, but I'm funny how, I mean funny like I'm a clown, I amuse you? I make you laugh, I'm here to fuckin' amuse you? What do you mean funny, funny how? How am I funny?

[roughridingrednecks]

Frank Dileo

[boricuacherry-blog]

[faggotfungus]

"HONCHO HOTSPOT OF THE MONTH: THE GLORY HOLE" by Frank Dileo for Honcho Magazine | April 1978

[michaelsfavgirl]

chubby chaser

Pairing: Michael Jackson x plus-size!fem!reader

Synopsis: just mike having a strong preference for chubby women. <3

Word Count: 1k

Requested: yes/no (one of you gave me an idea for this a while back)

Author’s Note: this is for my fellow softies! love y'all

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

This man has been into fuller women all his life.

He cannot quite pinpoint when this so-called preference began, yet he vividly remembers his entire family teasing him about it.

Once, during his childhood, he stumbled across a pinup magazine featuring a drawing of a fat woman. Captivated, he quickly cut out the picture and tucked it neatly into his notebook. Each afternoon after school, this adorable fool would pull it out and stare at it, daydreaming instead of completing his homework.

The peace didn’t last long though. One day, his mother, Katherine, discovered the picture while tidying up. She chuckled, thinking it harmless, and set it conspicuously on his desk. That’s when chaos truly ensued. Marlon barged into the room unannounced, as was his habit, and immediately spotted it. Oh, it was over for little Mike. The relentless teasing that followed could fill a book.

“Damn, Mike, we didn’t know you were into fuller gals,” Jermaine said with exaggerated emphasis, holding the picture for the other brothers to see.

 “What’s this, Mike? Planning your future with Miss Chubby Cheeks?” Tito teased, grinning ear to ear. He was mortified, face burning red as his brothers howled with laughter. 

Naturally he got embarrassed from their teasing yet it didn't make him any less ashamed of what he was into. 

Always ran after the rounder girls in school.

It crushed him every time they turned him down.

Poor thing couldn’t comprehend that being into softer girls wasn’t mainstream.

As he grew older, his innocent admiration evolved into a more passionate, teenage longing.

His once puppy eyed stares grew more sinful as his hormones kicked in.

The urge to kiss soft, chubby cheeks turned into a desire to bury his face in full, ample tits and to grip meaty love handles. 

Every time a curvy girl walked by, his breath would hitch, his gaze following the hypnotic sway of wide hips and jiggling bellies.

But even in his late teens, the frustration mounted. Porn magazines, ubiquitous among his peers, featured nothing but slim women. Respect them though he did, they simply didn’t ignite his imagination. leaving him to rely on his thoughts , filthy thoughts might I add.

Often imagining a fuller girl astride him, her soft body bouncing as she rode him, her weight pressing him into the mattress. His fantasies would leave him fisting his stiff cock fast like a mad man.

As he moved onto his solo career, away from his brothers, he had to be very careful about his image. 

That's something both he and Frank agreed on, however that's not what Michael insinuated when it came to his dating life, or the type of women he wanted in his short films.

One such instance occurred during the production of the Thriller music video. Michael and his manager Frank DiLeo sat reviewing headshots of potential female leads.

“Hm, no, not this one,” Michael said, tossing aside yet another photo of a slender model.

Frank groaned, exhausted. “Michael, for God’s sake, this is the hundredth girl you’ve rejected. Pick someone so we can move on.”

Michael shrugged casually. “Hey, all these girls are cute, but I want it to be realistic.”

Frank gaped. “Realistic?! Michael, you’re playing a werewolf in this video!”

Michael sighed, annoyed. “Not that kind of realistic, Frank. If I’m supposed to give this girl a damn promise ring in the video, she should look like the kind of girl I’d actually give it to.”

Frank pinched the bridge of his nose. “Michael, we’ve been over this—”

Michael’s voice turned sharp, leaving no room for debate. “No, you’ve been over it. I’m not changing my mind. Either find me a softie, or I’ll find myself a new manager.” 

Thankfully, things often worked in his favor. 

Whenever he brought a curvy girl to set, no one batted an eye, assuming she was just a friend. 

No one noticed that these “friends” never appeared more than once, nor did they question why his hand always rested possessively on their plush hips.

He’d smirk, thanking god for how clueless people could be.

Of course, not everyone was oblivious. Karen, his longtime makeup artist, had clocked his preference long ago. 

She’d tried everything to seduce him—short dresses, red lipstick, flirty banter—but to no avail. 

One day, as she applied his makeup, she noticed his attention fixed elsewhere.

She followed his gaze, annoyed that he wasn't facing her, to see him staring intently at another makeup artist across the room, her round cheeks glowing as she did his back up dancers makeup.

“Do you know her, K?” he asked, still staring, eyes never straying away from her round features.

Karen’s lips thinned. “No,” she said curtly, jealousy simmering beneath her skin. It was then she understood the truth.

By the time interviewers began prying into his love life, the pattern was unmistakable.

Questions about his “hidden” relationships amused him.

He wanted to laugh every time someone asked why he was so secretive. Secretive? Hardly. The world’s ignorance was the real culprit. 

For years, he’d been openly hand-in-hand with his soft little muse, yet the tabloids never caught on.

Finally, he decided to just say ‘fuck it’ after marrying the love of his life in a beautiful secret ceremony. 

The second the wedding photos were released, chaos erupted. No one could stop gossiping about it.

“Did you see the photos?” one host exclaimed. “He married a curvy girl! I mean, she’s stunning, but no one saw this coming.”

 “I know, right?” another added. “I thought he’d end up with a model or actress, not someone so… chubby.”

Back at neverland, you lowered the TV volume and turned to him.

 “You know this isn’t going to blow over anytime soon, right?” you asked.

Michael smirked, pulling you into his arms. “Who said I wanted it to? I want the world to know you’re my pretty wife—nobody else’s.”

He pressed a line of kisses up your neck, pausing to playfully nibble at your soft double chin.

“Ow! Hey, I’m not food,” you giggled.

He raised a brow. “Oh really? Because you tasted real sweet this morning—” You silenced him with a hand over his mouth, his muffled laughter warming your heart.

© michaelsfavgirl 2025

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[cosmicanger]

"HONCHO HOTSPOT OF THE MONTH: THE GLORY HOLE" by Frank Dileo for Honcho Magazine | April 1978

[ulkaralakbarova]

The adventures of two amiably aimless metal-head friends, Wayne and Garth. From Wayne’s basement, the pair broadcast a talk-show called “Wayne’s World” on local public access television. The show comes to the attention of a sleazy network executive who wants to produce a big-budget version of “Wayne’s World”—and he also wants Wayne’s girlfriend, a rock singer named Cassandra. Wayne and Garth have to battle the executive not only to save their show, but also Cassandra. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Wayne Campbell: Mike Myers Garth Algar: Dana Carvey Benjamin Kane: Rob Lowe Cassandra: Tia Carrere Stacy: Lara Flynn Boyle Dreamwoman: Donna Dixon Security Guard: Chris Farley Noah Vanderhoff: Brian Doyle-Murray Alan: Michael DeLuise Tiny: Meat Loaf Bad Cop / T-1000: Robert Patrick Alice Cooper: Alice Cooper Glen: Ed O’Neill Mrs. Vanderhoff: Colleen Camp Terry: Lee Tergesen Russell Finley: Kurt Fuller Davy: Mike Hagerty Ron Paxton: Charles Noland Elyse: Ione Skye Frankie Sharp: Frank DiLeo Waitress: Robin Ruzan Officer Koharski: Frederick Coffin Old Man Withers: Carmen Filpi Film Crew: Original Music Composer: J. Peter Robinson Screenplay: Mike Myers Executive Producer: Hawk Koch Director of Photography: Theo van de Sande Director: Penelope Spheeris Producer: Lorne Michaels Editor: Malcolm Campbell Stunts: Hannah Kozak Stunts: Alisa Christensen Associate Producer: Dinah Minot Associate Producer: Barnaby Thompson Screenplay: Bonnie Turner Screenplay: Terry Turner Casting: Glenn Daniels Production Design: Gregg Fonseca Second Unit Director: Allan Graf First Assistant Director: John Hockridge Second Assistant Director: Joseph J. Kontra Set Decoration: Jay Hart Camera Operator: Martin Schaer “B” Camera Operator: David Hennings First Assistant Camera: Henry Tirl First Assistant “B” Camera: Peter Mercurio Steadicam Operator: Elizabeth Ziegler Script Supervisor: Adell Aldrich Sound Mixer: Tom Nelson Boom Operator: Jerome R. Vitucci Additional Editor: Earl Ghaffari Assistant Editor: Ralph O. Sepulveda Jr. Assistant Editor: Ann Trulove Assistant Editor: Brion McIntosh Supervising Sound Editor: John Benson Sound Effects Editor: Beth Sterner Sound Effects Editor: Joseph A. Ippolito Sound Effects Editor: Frank Howard Dialogue Editor: Michael Magill Dialogue Editor: Simon Coke Dialogue Editor: Bob Newlan Supervising ADR Editor: Allen Hartz Foley Supervisor: Pamela Bentkowski Assistant Sound Editor: Carolina Beroza Assistant Sound Editor: Thomas W. Small Foley Artist: Ken Dufva Foley Artist: David Lee Fein Foley Mixer: Greg Curda ADR Mixer: Bob Baron ADR Voice Casting: Barbara Harris Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Andy Nelson Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Steve Pederson Sound Re-Recording Mixer: Tom Perry Music Supervisor: Maureen Crowe Supervising Music Editor: Steve Mccroskey Set Designer: Lisette Thomas Set Designer: Gae S. Buckley Special Effects Makeup Artist: Thomas R. Burman Special Effects Makeup Artist: Bari Dreiband-Burman Makeup Artist: Courtney Carell Makeup Artist: Mel Berns Jr. Hairstylist: Kathrine Gordon Hairstylist: Barbara Lorenz Hairstylist: Carol Meikle Costume Supervisor: Pat Tonnema Costumer: Janet Sobel Costumer: Kimberly Guenther Durkin Location Manager: Ned R. Shapiro Assistant Location Manager: Serena Baker Second Second Assistant Director: John G. Scotti Property Master: Kirk Corwin Assistant Property Master: Peter A. Tullo Assistant Property Master: Jim Stubblefield Leadman: Robert Lucas Special Effects Coordinator: Tony Vandenecker Chief Lighting Technician: Jono Kouzouyan Production Office Coordinator: Lynne White Unit Publicist: Tony Angelotti Still Photographer: Suzanne Tenner Craft Service: Vartan Chakarian Transportation Coordinator: James Thornsberry Color Timer: David Bryden Negative Cutter: Theresa Repola Mohammed Title Designer: Dan Curry Second Unit Director of Photography: Robert M. Stevens Stunts: Tony Brubaker Stunt Double: Steve Kelso Movie Reviews: tmdb15435519: I wish I could dress the exact same every day and still be cool.

[f0xd13-blog]

And all those gypsy kids

[cecyzinhaaa]

mjjking:

Frank Dileo had his picture hanging and Michael urinating in his office

[pourunhomme]

Frank DiLeo

[roughridingrednecks]

Frank Dileo

[boricuacherry-blog]

Michael [Jackson] fired Tatiana Thumbtzen from his tour because she inappropriately kissed him during a performance. I was in the makeup room with Michael when he asked Frank DiLeo to send her home.

-Karen Faye

[cecyzinhaaa]

alchrista:

5 September 1984    By this time,with Michael declining all requests for interviews,the world’s media – tabloids especially – seized upon anything and everything remotely connected with him.And,when there was no news,too many journalists took it upon themselves to ‘invent’ stories,giving little or no thought to the sensitivities of the man they were ridiculing. Finally, Michael cried ‘enough is enough’,by way of a statement read out at a press conference,by his manager Frank Dileo.

Michael wrote: “For some time now,I have been searching my conscience as to whether or not I should publicly react to the many falsehoods that have been spread about me.I have decided to make this statement based on the injustice of these allegations and the far reaching trauma those who feel close to me are suffering. I feel very fortunate to have been blessed with recognition for my efforts.This recognition also brings with it a responsibility to one’s admirers throughout the world.Performers should always serve as role models who set an example for young people.It saddens me that many actually believe the present flurry of false accusations. To this end, and I do mean end: No, I have never taken hormones to maintain my high voice! No, I have never had my cheekbones altered in any way! No, I have never had cosmetic surgery on my eyes! Yes, one day in the future I plan to get married and have a family. Any statements to the contrary are simply untrue. I have advised my attorneys of my willingness to institute legal action and subsequently prosecute all guilty to the fullest extent of the law. As noted earlier, I love children. We all know that kids are very impressionable and therefore susceptible to such stories. I am certain that some have already been hurt by this terrible slander. In addition to their admiration, I would like to keep their respect.”

Historic: The Video Vanguard Award was renamed the Michael Jackson Video Vanguard Award in honor of his contributions to the culture of music videos.The first recipient of the renamed honor was Bon Jovi.

[michaelsfavgirl]

not like the movies

Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader

Synopsis: it's a cliché love story isn't it? The global superstar and a die hard fan who manages to catch her idol's attention during a concert. it's that simple, right?....right?

Warning: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Requested: yes/no

Author’s Note: I changed the req a bit, put a little twist on this trope to make it more interesting. I hope you like it. :)

Links: navigation | masterlist | taglist

“Is the mic working tonight?" Michael asks Frank DiLeo, his manager. his eyes sparkle with mischief as they walk towards the wings, closer to the stage.

Frank chuckles, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "God, Mike, You'll never let us live that down, will you?"

Michael throws his head back in laughter, recalling a not-so-distant memory when the crew accidentally messed with the tech. “You guys cut off my mic during she’s out of my life! I had to fake cry to trick the fans into thinking all that was a part of the show.”

Frank, shaking his head in slight embarrassment, adds, "We learned our lesson that night. It won't happen again."

"Of course, it won't. Or else, I’ll cut your check in half.” Michael says with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. As much as Frank likes to have some form of authority over Michael as his manager he’s still not the one who calls the shots. 

Frank's expression shifts from amusement to a momentary flicker of concern. "You wouldn't..." he says as his voice trembles. 

Michael bursts into laughter, the carefree sound echoing through the backstage corridors. "Just kidding, Frank. Can't you take a joke?"

Relieved, Frank lets out a chuckle, feigning a scowl. "You know, you give me a heart attack every time you say something like that."

Michael, still grinning, pats Frank on the back. "Come on, you know I wouldn't mess with your money."

As he sees his manager’s face relax Michael can’t help but tease him again. "Or would I?" he says as he leans down slightly to Frank’s height, watching Frank's face momentarily shift from relief to uncertainty again. Before he can respond, Michael strides onto the stage, leaving Frank bemused, with his jaw on the floor. 

As Michael smoothly transitions between his iconic songs, the energy in the stadium is electric. The sea of fans undulates with excitement, but amid the frenzy, his attention is inexplicably drawn to a girl in the front row. 

The second his eyes land on her he feels like he’s in a trance of some sort. There's an allure about her, something that tugs at the edges of Michael's consciousness. It's not just the way she sways to the beat or how her eyes light up with each note; it's an inexplicable connection that he can't shake off. Lost in the spell of her presence, he fumbles the lyrics of a verse, drawing giggles from the audience. 

Michael Jackson, the perfectionist, is momentarily thrown off, a rare slip in his otherwise flawless performance.

Shaking his head to clear the distraction, he attempts to refocus. Yet, as the music continues, his gaze involuntarily drifts back to her. It's a puzzle, a mystery that unravels with each passing song. Why does she captivate him so? Why does she stand out in a crowd that's usually a sea of screaming adoration?

The realization dawns on him—she's different. Amidst the fervor of fans who've camped out for days, who've screamed themselves hoarse, in contrast she remains remarkably composed. She’s not crying, screaming, or fainting. Her demeanor is an enigma. It's not that she's unaffected; on the contrary, she radiates genuine enjoyment, but there's a serenity to her reactions that sets her apart.

Michael can't help but wonder. He knows the type of fans who are usually in the front row. They tend to be the wildest, most infatuated with him, having created an imaginary world in their heads where they’re in a romantic relationship with him. 

But her? She doesn't seem like that at all. 

How strange.

As he moves from one hit to another, the questions linger in his mind. His eyes continue to find her in the crowd, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. There's an intrigue. He thought he knew his fans inside out—their dedication, their unbridled passion. Yet, she challenges his assumptions.

Midway through his performance, Michael decides to playfully engage with the mysterious woman in the front row. He winks at her, not once but a few times, expecting a typical fan reaction—screams, swoons, or at the very least, a blush. To his surprise, all he receives in return is a serene smile. Just a smile.

The bewilderment creeps into Michael's expression. What's going on here? Is she immune to his legendary charm or something? Huh, he’d never in a million years admit it, but he feels his ego deflate a little. 

Refusing to be discouraged, he takes it up a notch. He points directly at her, a playful challenge in his eyes. Surely, this will elicit a different response right? But no, she remains composed, smiling and silently mouthing the lyrics. This is unheard of for Michael, and he can't shake off the perplexity. 

Jesus, what is she doing to him?

Unable to wait any longer, during a break where the band continues to play to give Michael a moment to breathe, he rushes backstage to his manager, Frank. He grabs onto Frank's shoulders tightly which surprises him. 

“Look, you see that girl over there? No, not her, on the left, her. Bring her to me after the show, okay?” The urgency in his voice is palpable as he hastily says, instructing Frank to bring the mysterious woman to his dressing room after the show. Frank, usually the composed one, is taken aback by his client's sudden insistence.

"What's gotten into you, Michael?" Frank asks, trying to make sense of the unusual request.

Michael, in no mood for delays, shakes Frank's shoulders, emphasizing the urgency. "Just get her here, Frank. It's important. You got that?"

Frank, still a bit shocked by the unexpected outburst, manages to nod in agreement. He watches as Michael walks away, leaving him to process what’s just happened.

The final notes of the last song resonate through the stadium as Michael wraps up his performance. The crowd roars with applause, and Michael, still riding the high of the show, takes a moment to thank his fans. "Thank you, I love you all," he declares, his eyes scanning the audience one last time. 

In that fleeting moment, his gaze lingers on the mysterious woman in the front row. Without giving it another thought, Michael dashes backstage, not even sparing a moment for his manager, Frank Dileo. He quickly instructs Frank to bring the woman to his dressing room and disappears, leaving Frank with his jaw on the floor.

After a refreshing shower, Michael reenters his dressing room, his mind buzzing with anticipation, heart beating unbelievably fast. And there she is, the enchanting woman who has captured his attention. Her back is turned to him as she admires the tour costumes on the rack, gently tracing the metal pieces with her fingers. Before Michael can utter a word, she turns around, her eyes meeting his. 

With the most angelic smile, she introduces herself shyly, “oh, uh, hello, i’m y/n. Someone told me to come to your dressing room, I swear I'm not a crazy fan.” As her sweet, slightly trembling voice fills the room, Michael feels a sensation akin to his legs turning into jelly. 

“I know don’t worry” he reassures her with a gentle smile, trying to keep his excitement in check. 

“I asked them to bring you here”

“Oh…do you often bring your fans here?” she asks with a little smile on her face, teasing him. 

Michael's eyes widen slightly, realizing how his previous statement sounded. “No, no, I’m not like that.” He defends himself. 

“Please y/n take a seat.” he gestures to the cozy couch. Her name feels familiar on his tongue, unfortunately, he cannot remember from where so he lets the thought go.

Casual banter flows initially, words revolving around music, the pulsating rhythm of the crowd, and the enchanting atmosphere that wraps around every live performance. Michael can't help but be drawn to the woman's composure, a serenity that stands out amid the usual fervor of his adoring fans.

As the conversation meanders through the afterglow of the show, the woman pivots with a sudden turn, shifting gears towards more personal territory. "How do you deal with all the relentless media during the tour?" Her question hangs in the air, curiosity etched in her eyes.

A contemplative sigh escapes Michael's lips, the weight of the question temporarily lifting from his shoulders. "It can be daunting," he begins, "But the music, the fans, that's what keeps me going."

Her eyes linger on his face, searching for something more profound beneath the surface. Unsatisfied with his somewhat evasive response, she persists, "But what specifically bothers you? There must be something that digs deeper."

Michael hesitates, a brief moment of vulnerability flickering in his eyes before he decides to share, "The…the rumors about me bleaching my skin. It's hurtful, and it affects me more than people realize."

“Do you though?” 

His eyes furrow, a mix of annoyance and anger flickering across his face. The probing nature of her questions stirs a cautious wariness within him.

She notices this and leans in, "You're so misunderstood, I just want to know the real you."

Silence hangs between them for a moment. Michael, caught in the whirlwind of emotions, contemplates the woman before him. Is she just a genuine fan seeking connection, or does she harbor ulterior motives beneath her calm exterior?

Gazing into her eyes, his hungry desire to be vulnerable and open his heart to some outweighs his concern. "No," he responds firmly, the word resonating with a quiet strength. "I don't bleach my skin. The rumors are just that—rumors."

Nodding in compassion she gently lays her warm palm on top of his in a soothing manner, this makes michaels senses spike. 

"I hope I haven't crossed any boundaries," she offers apologetically, her eyes reflecting a genuine concern for a split second.

He looks at her with a hint of confusion, not quite grasping what she means. "No, no it’s…fine." he says.

Taking a moment to choose her words carefully, she ventures into more personal territory. "I mean, after what happened... Do you feel lonely on tour?" The cryptic nature of her question leaves Michael momentarily puzzled.

"What do you mean, 'after what happened'?" he inquires, eyebrows furrowing inquisitively.

She takes a deep breath, her gaze steady. "In the media, you know the whole Brooke Shields turning down your proposal. It must be difficult for you."

Michael's sigh echoes through the room as he dispels the misconception. "Brooke never never said no because I never proposed," he states, a touch of exasperation in his voice. "That was just a story she made up to get attention for her new movie."

As Michael clarifies the misinformation, the woman subtly slips her hand into her handbag, a movement that goes unnoticed by him. Maintaining an air of compassion, she continues, "It must be tough for you, dealing with the constant scrutiny."

"Yeah, it gets hard sometimes," he admits, a weight apparent in his words. "She’s been leeching off me, leading me on since we met." he says and feels guilt creeping up on him, but he’s been bottling up his emotions for so long he can’t help but vent.

Her expression remains composed, her eyes attentive. "I’m sorry you have to go through that Michael," she commiserates, though the glint in her eyes suggests a hidden agenda.

Michael, relieved to share his burden, continues, "I just want someone who's genuine, can’t you understand that girl? Someone who understands me for me, not for the image they've built in their mind."

As the admission hangs in the air, the woman's hand tightens around an object in her bag, a subtle signal of her concealed intentions. 

After a conversation, well, more like Michael opening his heart while she nodded, the peculiar woman stands up abruptly and straightens the creases on her clothes. She grabs the doorknob and turns to face him.

“I hope you won’t be too surprised when you see yourself in the papers tomorrow morning Mr. Jackson” she says with one foot out the door.

Michael cocks his head to the side and hums in confusion, why is she speaking so formally all of a sudden. “What do you mean?” 

“Haven’t you read that article about Princess Diana?” 

Before Michael can open his mouth she’s already left the room and shut the door behind her. 

Panicking slightly he rushes to the coffee table and gets a hold of the newspaper from last week. He swiftly flips through the pages until he stumbles upon the tabloid junk he’d read on a plane half asleep. The title reads:

“IS PRINCESS DIANA A MASTER MANIPULATOR?”

          — By y/n y/l

Fuck, she’s a journalist. He  should’ve guessed from the get go. She was a little odd but he brushed it off as her being shy and awkward, and now look at what he’s gotten himself into. 

© michaelsfavgirl 2024

Taglist: @heartss444mj @yeriminist @yeaiamme2 @helloaugustmoon @cinnamoncunt @theladyofmylife @minekarina @kionaaa @theskinniestjackson-denny @youronlyonenini

[themichaeljacksonhistorian]

Michael Jackson Bad Tour German TV Special