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TOUCH ME. ──── producer!jermajesty x black ⨍ singer!reader
summary: after long hours of you brainstorming sensual lyrics for your new project, you continue to struggle and reach your breaking point. your best friend and producer, jermajesty decides to lend a helping hand. ( remake of my fic of the same name )
contains: smut ( mdni 18+ ) p in v, unprotected sex.
the clock had just hit 1:00 a.m.
you stared at the glowing numbers for a few seconds before letting out a tired sigh and dropping your gaze back down to the notebook resting in your lap. at this point, you had been staring at the same pages for what felt like hours. they were covered in crossed-out lyrics, half-finished sentences, random words circled aggressively in black ink, and phrases that had sounded meaningful when you first wrote them down but now seemed completely useless.
nothing was working.
you tapped the end of your pen against the paper, trying to force yourself to think of something, anything, that could turn into a decent lyric. instead, your mind remained frustratingly blank. every idea you came up with felt either too cheesy, too vague, or nothing like the sound your management had been asking for.
eventually, you reached your limit.
you slammed the notebook shut and tossed the pen onto the desk before dragging both hands down your face. a long, frustrated groan escaped you as you leaned back into your chair, staring at the ceiling like it might somehow give you the answer you had been searching for all night.
the studio was otherwise completely quiet. the warm, dim lighting left most of the room in shadow, with only the glow from the computer screens and mixing board illuminating the space around you. the faint hum of the equipment filled the silence, making the fact that you were still there at one in the morning feel even more ridiculous.
you were exhausted, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave.
your debut album had done far better than you ever expected. the response had been overwhelming in the best possible way, and with that success came a new set of expectations. your management wanted the next project to feel different. more grown, more confident, more sensual. they wanted you to step outside of the sound people had already associated with you and show a side of yourself that felt more mature.
at first, you hadn't had a problem with the idea.
you actually liked the challenge. you wanted to prove that you could evolve as an artist, that you weren't going to stay stuck making the same kind of music forever. the concept sounded exciting when it was explained to you in meetings, surrounded by mood boards, reference tracks, and carefully chosen words like seductive, intimate, and vulnerable.
then you actually had to sit down and write it.
that was when you realized just how badly you had underestimated the assignment.
how were you supposed to write about intimacy when you had barely experienced it yourself?
you had never gone all the way with any of your previous partners. your relationships had never progressed much beyond kissing, making out, and the occasional nervous exploration over clothes. there had been no passionate relationship that you could draw from, no messy breakup that left you knowing exactly what it felt like to crave someone's touch, no secret memories you could turn into clever metaphors.
you had nothing.
at least, nothing that felt real enough to put into a song.
every time you tried to imagine what you were supposed to write about, you found yourself second-guessing everything. was it believable? did it sound too innocent? was it too obvious that you were writing about something you had never actually experienced?
the worst part was that you couldn't even blame yourself entirely.
you had spent years being careful about who you let close to you, and whenever things started getting a little too serious, something always seemed to interrupt it. sometimes it was your schedule, sometimes it was your own nerves, and sometimes it was your best friend and producer, jermajesty, somehow managing to appear at the exact wrong moment.
he had an almost supernatural talent for cockblocking you.
you could count on one hand the number of times you'd actually managed to get close to someone without jermajesty calling, showing up, barging into a room, or casually inserting himself into the situation without realizing what he was doing.
or, at least, that's what you told yourself.
you glanced toward the other side of the studio, where jermajesty was sitting behind the mixing board, completely unaware of the internal crisis you were having. he had been working quietly for most of the night, headphones resting around his neck as he adjusted something on the computer.
except he wasn't completely unaware.
he had noticed.
he had noticed the way your leg had been bouncing beneath the desk for the last twenty minutes. he had noticed how often you'd erased the same line, how your shoulders had gradually tensed, and how every few minutes you'd stare at the notebook like you were personally offended by the words on the page.
he'd wanted to say something several times.
every time, he stopped himself.
jermajesty had been holding something back from you for longer than he cared to admit. somewhere between the late nights, the inside jokes, the countless hours spent together in studios, and the moments where he'd caught himself looking at you for a second too long, his feelings had quietly become something he could no longer dismiss as simple friendship.
he cared about you far too much.
and that was precisely why he had spent so long keeping his mouth shut.
he didn't want to complicate things. you were his best friend, his artist, and one of the few people he trusted completely. he had convinced himself that keeping his feelings buried was easier than risking what the two of you already had.
but watching you practically crumble over a notebook made that resolve a lot harder to maintain.
finally, he pushed his chair back.
the quiet scrape of it against the floor made you glance up.
"you've been staring at that page for ten minutes," he said softly.
you frowned, immediately looking back down. "because it hates me."
a small laugh escaped him, but he didn't tease you. instead, he walked over and pulled the chair beside yours closer, sitting down so he could see the mess of lyrics scattered across your notebook.
he flipped through a few pages, taking in the countless revisions without saying anything.
"you keep trying to write about something you think you're supposed to understand," he said eventually.
you looked at him, your frustration evident in your expression. "because i'm supposed to understand it. that's literally the assignment."
"no," he said gently. "you're supposed to make people feel something. that's different."
you went quiet.
jermajesty turned toward you, his expression softer than usual. "you don't have to write about something you've experienced exactly. you can write about wanting it. wondering what it would feel like. being scared of it. being curious about it. sometimes the feeling before something happens is more powerful than the thing itself."
his words made you look down at the notebook again.
for the first time that night, the page didn't seem quite as intimidating.
"but how am i supposed to make it believable?"
"you already know what wanting something feels like."
you slowly looked back at him.
there was something different in his expression now. something quieter, almost vulnerable, and for a moment neither of you said anything.
he reached over and gently took the pen from your fingers, placing it on the desk.
"stop trying to force yourself to be someone you're not," he murmured. "write about what you actually feel."
your heart began beating a little faster.
"and what if i don't know what i feel?"
jermajesty hesitated.
he could have given you another explanation. he could have redirected the conversation back toward the song and pretended his heart wasn't pounding against his ribs.
instead, after years of swallowing down every feeling he had for you, he finally let himself be honest in the smallest way he knew how.
he leaned closer.
slowly, giving you more than enough time to pull away, his eyes flickered down toward your lips before meeting your gaze again. when you didn't move, he closed the remaining distance between you.
his lips met yours gently.
the kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, as though he was afraid that moving too quickly might shatter the moment. there was nothing rushed about it. no pressure, no expectation. just the warmth of his lips against yours and the quiet realization that the person sitting beside you had been holding this feeling in for far longer than you'd ever known.
you stayed still for a moment, surprised by the tenderness of it.
then you slowly leaned into him.
jermajesty's hand came up to rest gently against your cheek, his thumb brushing along your skin as the kiss deepened only slightly. it remained slow and loving, more emotional than anything else, like he was trying to communicate everything he'd been too afraid to say out loud.
when he finally pulled back, he didn't move far.
his forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes still closed as both of you tried to process what had just happened.
"that's what i mean," he whispered.
you blinked, still a little breathless. "what?"
"you don't have to know exactly what something feels like." his thumb brushed your cheek again. "you just have to be honest about how it makes you feel."
before you could ask what he meant, his hand slid from your cheek to the nape of your neck, pulling you gently forward. when his lips met yours again, it wasn't tentative, it was hungry, confident, and tasted of longing. it was the exact kind of intimacy you'd been trying to put into words, the feeling of being completely consumed by someone else.
he lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the oversized velvet sofa in the corner of the studio. he laid you back, his body hovering over yours, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache.
"just feel it," he whispered against your skin, his lips trailing down to your jawline. "don't think about the lyrics. don't think about the song. just feel what i'm doing to you."
his hands were everywhere, stripping away your clothes with a slow, deliberate pace that built the tension until you were shaking. when he finally exposed your pussy, he didn't rush. he leaned down, his tongue swirling around your clit in slow, wet circles, licking you clean and making you arch your back, a loud, needy moan escaping your throat. you gripped his hair, your fingers digging in as he sucked your clit into his mouth, the friction sending sparks of electricity straight to your core.
you were soaking wet, your juices coating his chin as he looked up at you, a small, loving smile on his face. "this is the part where the music swells," he teased softly.
he reached for his pants, freeing his cock, which was thick and pulsing. he guided the head of his dick against your opening, teasing the entrance, rubbing the pre-cum into your folds until you were begging for it.
"please, maj…please," you whimpered.
he entered you in one smooth, loving thrust, filling you completely. you gasped, your eyes fluttering shut as the sheer fullness of him stretched you open. he didn't start hammering away immediately; instead, he stayed still for a moment, forehead pressed against yours, breathing in your scent.
"you feel so good," he groaned, his voice thick with affection.
then he began to move. it wasn't a frantic pace, but a deep, rhythmic grinding. he fucked you with a slow, deliberate intensity, each thrust bottoming out, his cock hitting your cervix and sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. he kept his eyes locked on yours, his hands cupping your face, making sure you felt every single inch of him.
the friction of his cock sliding in and out of your tight pussy created a wet, slapping sound that echoed in the quiet studio. you felt your orgasm building, a tight knot of tension in your belly that only he could unravel. he sensed it, picking up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder, more urgent, though his expression remained soft and adoring.
"that's it, baby... just let go," he whispered, his voice a command and a caress.
you screamed his name as your walls clamped down on him, your pussy pulsing in violent contractions as you peaked. the pleasure was so intense it felt like a physical weight, leaving you breathless and shaking. seconds later, jermajesty let out a low growl, his body stiffening as he shot his warm cum deep inside you.
he collapsed on top of you, not pulling away, just holding you close as your breathing synchronized. he kissed your forehead, his heart drumming against your chest.
"now," he whispered, his voice returning to that calm, supportive tone. "tell me how that felt. put that in the song."
taglist: @redemptioninthe4ethers @invinor @cinnamoncunt @jaafarsbaby @youluvyannie @applewebb @faiology @jsgoodfriends @looenx @diarykiss @sillylittlemind @swavydadon @nistxrr ( new tag list is still a work in progress, dm or comment to be added )
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idk if you’ve done this alr but can we get a fic where the reader and Marlon are abt to yk for the first time but it’s her first time and he’s like wayyyyy more experienced….okay that’s it Ty bye
EXPERIENCE.
✹Marlon Jackson x Black Reader!
Synopsis: ⊹ ࣪ ˖ You lose your virginity to Marly!
Content: ༊·˚MDNI 18+, smut with a little plot,triumph!era Marlon, Experienced!Marlon, Virgin!reader, Oral(fem receiving), Prasing, “pretty/baby/mama/”, Unprotected P in V (Wrap it up, a safe hunch is great hunch!) squirting, aftershock, established relationship!
A/N: Your wish is my command,sorry it took so long!
— ᨳଓ He kissed you deeply as he laid you down on the soft bed in the bedroom you two shared. His soft, pink, lips felt like soft clouds on your vanilla-scented, cocoa skin.
You and Marlon had been together for a year now, and every time he touched you, a sudden wave of heat rushed through you. Tonight felt different.
You wanted to take it a step further with him, even though the surge of nervousness reminded you that you had never done this before.
He adjusted the satin-covered pillows making sure you were completely comfortable. After pressing a brief kiss to your lips, he sat up slightly, his hands resting against the button of your pants.
“Can I?” He asked, looking up to meet your eyes.
Babum. Babum. Babum
Your heart raced so fast that you could hear it in your ears, like it was in the room with you both.
you gave him a tight nod.
“I need words, mama.” He murmured. He rubbed your thighs gently, trying to soothe the anxiety that suddenly rushed through you.
“Yes, baby.” You whispered, gulping down the lump in your throat. He unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your legs with slowness until he finally got to your panties.
“Cute,” he murmured, tapping the pink bow that sat right above the lace. “You wore these for me?”
“Mhmm, all for you.” You smirked.
His eyes lit up with affection and he smirked, leaning down to slide them off.
“Open up for me, baby.” he instructed.
You did just that, slowly parting your legs for him. You would’ve thought Marlon had just found a pot of Gold. He looked at your pussy with so much genuine admiration that any lingering self-consciousness you had instantly melted away.
You were gushing so much for him; the more Marlon stared, the more he started to taste you on his tongue.
“Uhhh, Marlon? You’re starting to drool.” you joked, trying to soothe the anxiety that pierced through you.
He snapped out his trance, chuckling and shaking his head as he scooted down to the edge of the bed to get a better angle of the view he was enjoying so much.
He played with clit, rubbing slowly and deliberately, you whimpered in response.
“Look at how you’re glistening for me…I need you in my mouth,” he murmured lowly. “Remember baby, whatever pleases you, pleases me,” he reassured, rubbing your thick thigh once more.
You nodded, “okay, baby.”
He wasted no time pressing his lips against your bud, and a soft gasp immediately left your mouth.
“Oh my God…” you moaned, feeling his warm tongue lick up and down your folds—slow and deliberate just like how he had touched you before.
“Best I’ve ever tasted,” he muttered againist you, his breath hitting your flesh. And he wasn’t lying, you tasted just like he expected you to; sweet like candy.
He swirled his tongue gently over your clit, you felt your body react differently to every touch. This time, your breath hitched, straight from your core.
“Shit…” you breathed, resting your hand on his head, his face was completely buried in between your legs as he desperately licked and slurped you up, your juices coating his lips and nose. He was completely lost in the taste of you as if he was intoxicated off you.
He moved against the bed, making him groan. The vibration ran through your core. You gripped his hair tightly, your sweet moans sounded like music to his ears. His eyes went low. He couldn’t wait to get in you, the excitement made his length jump
You looked down at the sight you had dreamed of for so long. Sure you made yourself feel good before but it never felt like this. He was fulfilling your desire.
“Mmmh,” he hummed against your skin, sending intense vibrations to your core as he ate you messily, as if he was starving for you. Your hips twitched instinctively under his grip as he continued to feast on you, like you were his last meal.
“Babyyy,” you whined, feeling a sensation bubbling deep in your stomach. “I think I’m gonna-“ You closed your eyes, eyebrows furrowed as you gripped the sheets tight.
“Let it out, mama, you’re doing so good.” He murmured, before swirling his tongue on your clit again.
“Oooh,” you moaned loudly, back arched slightly as you squirted all over Marlon’s tongue and face. He slurped up every drop that came out, humming deeply at how good you tasted.
Your mouth formed an ‘O’, your body trembled from the intensity; it felt as if your soul had completely levitated from your flesh. You chuckled in utter shock, never doing anything like that before.
“You taste so sweet,” he smirked, coming back up, lips shiny. He stood to his feet, stripping himself of the rest of his clothes.
His pants hit the floor, and so did the black shirt he was wore, until the only thing he wore was his boxers. You grew wetter at the sight of his body.
Slowly, he hooked his thumbs underneath his waistband, pulling his boxers down.
Finally, his harden dick sprang free, hitting his stomach. So thick, so long, so big, so heavy. Your heart raced even more at the sight of his size, you gulped, trying to calm your nerves.
“Baby…is that even gonna fit?” You asked, tilting your head. Never looking away.
He chuckled lightly, climbing back into the bed and sliding in between your knees. “Yes baby, Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle, though, I promise. If it’s too much, let me know and I’ll stop.” He kissed your lips, getting the cherry flavored chapstick on his lips. He lingered on top of you, aligning himself with your entrance. “Hold onto me, ma.”
He slid slowly into you. There wasn’t a sharp sting thanks to how wet you were, but an aburpt, strong wave of pressure flooded your lower stomach. You tensed up, you let out a shaky gasp, your fingers gripping his shoulder almost instantly as you felt the friction.
Marlon paused in a heartbeat, remaining still perfectly, while being halfway inside of you, giving you enough time to adjust. “Just breathe, it’s okay, I got you.” He breathed against your pursy lips you.
He kissed you so deeply that you tasted the flavor of you that lingered in his mouth. You whimpered in response, you were melting as his tongue explored your mouth.
He rolled his hips slowly, your grip on him got tighter. The pressure washed away, it soon became pleasure. You felt the tasty stretch, he filled you up with his heavy, throbbing length.
Marlon let out a low, shaky groan against your lips, propping himself up on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush you. He didn’t pull back, he just continued to rock his body into yours, maintaining a steady, rhythmic pace.
“Go faster please, baby.” you rasped, digging your nails into his back. He did just that, his strokes became more urgent, making the headboard bang against the wall.
Your body temperature rose, heat exploding throughout your entire frame.
“Look at how pretty you are taking this dick,” he grunted, looking down at himself going in and out of you, loving the way your pussy ingested him.
“You like it, baby? Hm?” He asked rhetorically, pumping into you.
“F-Fuck…Yes!” You shouted, without a thought, caught in the rapture. He smirked, looking down at you, his light eyes locked with yours
“Mmmm, that’s my baby.” He cooed, rolling his hips deeper into you, he worked a sweat, hitting your g-spot. He rested his head in crook of your neck, taking in your scent.
“Shit—nghh—baby!” You panted, placing your hand on his abdomen, this all felt so brand new to you. Your body had never felt something so powerful, something so good. Your vision blurred, feeling the knot form in your stomach again.
You clenched around him, he kept smirking hitting your spot, your moans grew louder.
“Oh my God—I’m about to-,” you breathed heavily, eyes rolling back as your toes curled, even your stomach locked.
“Cmon, make a mess for me, pretty.” He whispered in your ear, pressing a gentle kiss on the side of your flushed face.
“Mmph!” You squealed, cumming for the second in one night. Your legs shot up, toes pointing to the celling, your pussy throbbed rhythmically around him. He pulled out, tapping his dick on your wetness lightly. The wet sounds of the flesh connecting filled the room.
“Yeahhh…just like that, mama.” He cooed, holding you as your back arched. The more he tapped, the more juices came out of you.
Your body twitched as you breathe heavily, “Oh my God, Oh my God,” you chanted, feeling the second wave of pressure hit you, tears flowed down your cheeks.
Marlon softly kissed your neck, face and shoulders to calm you, the shuddering and whimpering continued for a few more seconds.
After those seconds were over, your muscles finally relaxed, he rolled off you laying on side of you, all sweaty, his skin glistened underneath the lamp light.
“You okay, baby?” Marlon asked, rubbing your stomach gently.
nsfw / fem afab reader, cws for voyeuristic themes & dubcon(?) ) thinking about your good friend janet jackson who, upon realizing that you don’t have any plans for the summer, invites you to come with her to a resort. “it’ll be a cute little girls’ trip. c’mon,” she coaxed you over the phone. just by hearing her tone, you could tell she was smiling on the other end. “it’ll be fun, i promise.”
thinking about how janet would insist on you two sharing a room because it’s cheaper. thinking about how she feigns surprise when there’s only one bed, shrugging shortly afterwards and murmuring about clearing it up right away. for some reason, the bed situation never gets fixed; you end up sleeping with janet for the entirety of your stay.
thinking about how she’d encourage you to do all sorts of tacky resort activities with her. “let’s go see their show!” she’ll suggest, pointing to a nearby poster, “ooh, and we can go for drinks after. they have this fruity drink in this big glass, i’m just dying to try it. you’ll try it with me, right?” of course, janet bats her lashes and purses her lip into a subtle pout whenever you seem hesitant. you humor her more often than you don’t.
thinking about how she’d take pictures with you everywhere. she carries her mini-camera like it’s her ID. “smile!” she beams as she takes yet another photo. “this one looks hot,” she remarks, “the sun looks so good on us, see?” oh, just know there’s a photo album at home dedicated to you and her. “best friends forever” is in there somewhere, surrounded by a bunch of hearts.
thinking about her covering you with a towel whenever she notices guys leering at you. she’ll wrap it around your shoulders or waist before you can even process the fact that men are taking you in. “men can be such dogs,” janet complains under her breath, rolling her eyes, “ignore them.”
but most of all, i’m thinking about that one day towards the end of the trip where janet rents out a small, nearby beach because she “doesn’t want to deal with people”. she hums softly as she slathers sunscreen on herself. then, she watches as you do the same. naturally, you both get each other’s backs. then comes the fun. or, at least, janet thought the fun would follow.
“what do you mean you’re not gonna swim?” she asks indignantly, her hands on her hips, “i rented out this whole beach!”
“i want to tan, janet,” you reply, laying down along a beach chair. you reach into your bag and pull out a book, “it never hurts to even out your skin tone.”
“i don’t care about that,” she snaps, letting her more childish side show. it’s moments like these where it’s clear that she’s the youngest of the jacksons. “the beach is for playing in the water more than tanning. i wanted to have fun with you, this is our one girls’ trip before things get busy again.”
you open your book. “we can still have fun on the sand.”
saying that was a huge mistake. you can tell from the moment she gets quiet. after a few seconds, you glance up over the book’s pages, only to notice that janet’s in the middle of crawling onto you. when you sit up, she gently pushes you back down, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“what are you doing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“having fun,” she replies. she lets one foot rest on either side of you as she settles on top. it would be a full squat if she hovered; instead, she lets her pelvis rest on top of yours, the triangle bottoms of your bikinis meeting. “you don’t mind, right? i mean, if we can share a bed, certainly we can share this…” she slides herself forward, letting her body drag against yours, “a different kind of fun, but still… fun.”
you blink once or twice, setting your book down as she starts to roll her hips. it sparks an unexpected heat in you, one strong enough for you to pause and let out a quiet exhale. “yeah? the kind of fun friends have all the time, right?” you manage to spit out sarcastically, shifting to give her more access to you.
“exactly,” she coos, “relax. you’ll still get your tan.” reaching down, janet walks her fingers up to your bikini top, holding onto it like a reign as she rides against you. “i always thought you were just so pretty,” she muses, “i’m glad we’re such close friends.”
“is that right?” your eyes go half-lidded, your mouth running dry. through your bikini bottom you can feel everything. you swear you feel the outline of her pussy lips as she ruts against you. slowly, you bring your hands to her hips, holding onto her. “i think you’re pretty, too, janet.” pretty and talented— now you know where she gets the motivation to sing those “baby making” songs.
“you’re gonna make me blush,” she breathes out, chuckling a little. after a while, she speeds up, playfully asking, “feels good, doesn’t it?” there’s little shame in how she presses herself against you. why would there be? it’s not like anyone will see, thanks to her renting the beach out. when you don’t reply, she tilts her head to the left, bringing her hips back to fully thrust against your now sensitive pussy. “you know, it’s rude not to respond,” she murmurs, “very rude.”
“janet,” you whine, only to gasp when you feel her pelvis slam against yours. your body rocks, moving back and then forth from the impact. “fuck! it feels good, it feels good.”
she watches your face, soaking in how you’ve started to sweat, how your eyes are all hazy, and how you keep biting your lip. “then come,” she demands. her hand lets go of your bikini top, sliding to press against your lower stomach. suddenly, janet takes it seriously, staring down at you as she purposefully grinds her clit against yours at that perfect angle. the bikini bottoms on you both do nothing to shield you from the sensation of her body against yours, that friction quickly adding fuel to the fire flowing through your body. a grunt leaves her lips before she goes on, “come, come for me, come right now.”
whimpering, your hips start to buck, desperate for friction. “i’m going to— ah, ahh—” your legs tremble as your orgasm rushes through you, the force of it causing you to moan out janet’s name. your eyes screw themselves shut, forcing you to miss janet’s orgasm (an orgasm that’s just as intense as your own, though she smiles through it, thoroughly pleased). even after the first burst, your pussy pulses, causing more cum to leak out of you and pool into your g-string. spent, you crumple beneath her, panting hard like a dog out in the sun.
“atta girl,” she purrs as you both come down from the high, laying down on top of you as if she belonged there. maybe she does, now. her head rests along your breasts, her hands idly roaming your body. “this was better than swimming anyways,” she decides under her breath, “much better.”
author’s note ) that moment when ur best friend crawls on top of you and lwk starts humping but ur lwk down so u just dryhump on the beach w bikinis on or whatever. we all have that one girl bsf we’d scissor ok? anyways, happy pride… janet has always given me such brat vibes, regardless of top/bottom, i hope i captured that well here. she radiates such strong bsf to lovers vibes it’s insane… lover her sm…
A/N : wassup guysss I’ve been ITCHINGGGGG to post this one it’s been on my mind foreverrrr I hope yall enjoy it too!
Warnings: your co-worker throwing you under the bus lol! nothing else , Just Michael his kids and you enjoying the zoo. :))
“Alright Kiki time for a little snack don’t you think?” The little monkey perched on your shoulder visibly excited.
You giggled reaching your dominant hand into a utility belt of different types of animal food and pulling out some blueberries for the baby spider monkey on your shoulder as she happily grabbed them and carefully piled them into her mouth.
“What a hungry girl, I should’ve brought more then!” you cooed to Giselle taking her off your shoulders and gently giving her a tiny hug before putting her down to leave her enclosure.
The sun was now setting into a pinkish hue—the spider monkey enclosure was your favorite to visit before heading out for the day, so you left saying your goodnights to Giselle and all her brothers and sister and the rest of the animals in the zoo.
After doing your nightly checks you make your way to the front of the zoo to grab your stuff from your locker passing by your colleague Robert, he had been working longer than you have you were just interning until you could become an actual zoologist.
“Hey y/n! I gotta let you know before you leave tonight that the zoo will be closed off from the public tomorrow for a VIP visit, no one knows who it is yet but they just said be prepared for them to be the only people there.” Robert explained.
“I feel like we at least deserve to know who we’re supposed to be giving a tour y’know?” You replied your focus being on hanging up your khakis, grabbing your keys, and getting all the way up out of there until tomorrow.
“Oh no girl not ‘we’ IM off tomorrow it’s most likely just gonna be you and this mysterious VIP.” Robert stated before grabbing his own bag and heading towards the front door his hand only his fingertips reaching the handle before you retaliated.
“WHAT? No, no, no I couldn’t do that! Listen animals are my thing ok.”
“Come on I’ve seen you do a couple of zoo tours by yourself.”
“I guess so.. but this is different! This is some VIP guest none of us know yet and what if I just mess everything up.”
“Trust me y/n I wouldn’t let you do the job if I didn’t trust in your ability to do it, now come on we gotta get out of here before night crew comes.”
You sighed following suit of Robert trying to convince yourself this was a good idea.
You adored animals, you don’t know where you’d be if you didn’t have such a passion for wildlife conservation— if you didn’t you would’ve never agreed to this arrangement of course.
“ughh…” you groaned into your palms cupping your face, you just couldn’t believe the predicament you were in— and in about 30 minutes the VIP guests would be arriving.
You decided to try and clear your mind by pacing around the zoo campus clearly looking as if you had drunk 10 cups of coffee, who could blame you? This was all so sudden— it even seemed as though the animals you passed by could tell you had a lot on your mind as they tried to ‘cheer’ you up in their own little ways.
“Artie stop it!!” You laughed at the African bush elephant resting his heavy trunk on your head playfully— you knew that elephants were smart and Artie could definitely detect the anxiety beaming off of you.
“Alright I got this…I got this!” You reassured yourself with help from the Artie the elephant thankfully— you walked back up to the front of the zoo with pace, when you finally made it you straighten out your khaki uniform with your hands and just tried to rid yourself of ways to embarrass yourself on first appearances.
“Alright Mr Jackson right this way and our newest intern Ms. y/n will show you around, have a nice stay!”
“Mr Jackson…” you just started blankly into the universe hoping to GOD it was not the Jackson you were thinking of.
You took a breath before stepping into the lobby after the front desk lady had introduced you trying to put on the bravest face you could but probably managed to look more like a nervous hamster.
“Great.” you thought to yourself, after snapping back into your reality that didn’t seem all to real you walked over to Michael taking in his delicate features from his black silky hair that sort of turned a deep brown when the sunlight of the open roof hit it his usual flashy style was toned down to a more casual look— you know, something fit for a day at the zoo.
Not only that but after accidentally staring at his beautiful face too long you notice the two little faces standing next to him holding his hand tightly.
“Ah! Who are these little adorable adventurers!” You said to the little cuties resembling their father.
“My name isn’t adorable I’m prince! and I wanna see a real lion!!” He yelled so loud it could be heard from outside of the zoo.
“Well I’ll make sure you will prince don’t worry your ador- I mean your brave little head!” You quickly bought your slip up before turning to the little girl.
“And who might you be little lady?” You asked kneeling down with one elbow on your knee.
“My name is Paris ma’am, does this zoo have monkeys?”
“We sure do sweetheart, in fact there’s a species of monkey that’s my absolute favorite here her name is Kiki and she’s a baby spider monkey, their usual habitat is a a nice warm tropical rainforest because that’s where they originally came from.”
Michael was most definitely captivated by the facts you were telling the kids nodding along as if he was taking notes in his head, you noticed this too— You may have been really nervous before but now this seemed like a piece of cake, this “VIP” guy much less intimidating than expected, still intimidating but not quite as much.
“What’s a habeetat?” Prince asked questioning half the words you just said.
Welll…. If you follow me I’ll explain everything that we’ll explore— and Prince a ‘habitat’ is where an animal can live comfortably and safe, just like your house for example.”
“Ohhh.”
“Now come on adventurers the fun’s only just begun!” You say using your hand to beckon them forward to follow you onto the zoo’s main path the children following after you like little ducklings and Michael strolling behind taking in all the animal sounds in their glory.
“Alright do you two know what animal this is?”
“ITS A GIRAFFE!!” All of them yelled giggling at each other.
“Thats right guys! Did you know that giraffes spots help them regulate heat in their bodies?”
“ I did not know that! That’s interesting I always assumed they sweated like most animals do.” Michael said truly shocked at the fact that giraffes didn’t sweat.
Truthfully he already knew that, he didn’t spend half his life fixating about different animals for nothing—he just wanted to hear you talk about them, you just had so much passion for animals he found it admirable, cute almost.
“Well Mr Jackson they technically can but it’s not their primary way of regulation of temperature due to their habitat and type of climate they live in.” You grinned at him— to Michael it felt like his own body was working against him as heart raced.
“Like tiny umbrellas?” Paris blurted out smiling.
“Thats a fun idea Paris, you could think of them like that!”
“Now enough about giraffes facts I don’t wanna bore you all, now’s the time to move on to the next exhibit lady and gentlemen(s).” You pointed to the reptile exhibit right across from the giraffes.
“When are we gonna see a lionnn…” prince groaned who would’ve been basically dragging himself on the floor if he hadn’t been holding his fathers hang.
“Soon honey I promise you’re gonna love the reptiles just as much as the lions.”
After you all had made your rounds of the zoo and the blue sky was turned a more orange hue, you decided the last stop should be the lion enclosure just as you promised Prince.
“WOAHH” Prince gasped releasing himself from his father grasp as her ran up to the lions enclosure.
“Careful Prince lions are very territorial!” Michael yelled following after him closely with Paris still in his hand.
“That is right Mr Jackson but from our enclosure we make sure that there is ample distance from the visitors and the lions for everyone’s safety, every good zoo makes sure that the animals also feel comfortable when being put on display like this so we make sure they have the option to be seen or not!”
“Huh.” Michael hummed looking down into the closure impressed to say the least.
“Now who wants to hear a fun fact about lions?” You asked everyone.
“ME ME MEEEEE!!!” Prince yelled enthusiastically.
You and Michael laughed at the sheer volume of excitement exuding from Prince.
“All right then, did you know that a group of lions is called a pride? To me I think it suits them because their so confident and strong they remind me of you Prince!” You pointed at him earning a little giggle and a giant smile from him.
“I think I can agree with that.” Michael sighed rubbing his temples with a tiny grin.
You glared at Michael with a knowing grin—you could tell Prince was a bit of a handful but still nevertheless a little cutie pie.
“Alright that concludes the tour you guys thank you guys so much for comming! I’ll walk you back up to the front of the zoo.”
Just as you were about to leave you feel a hand grab your own.
shocked, you swiftly turn your head to see Michael surprisingly, he quickly let go he didn’t want to seem like a creep for just gabbing your hand, your soft, manicured, fingers...
“FOCUS MICHAEL.” He internally panicked before pulling back his hand.”
“Sorry for grabbing you so suddenly.. I just wanted to let you know that you really made today special for the kids and me, I really appreciate all the work you guys put into animal conservation.” He looked into your eyes his cheeks turning a slight pink.
“O-Oh, of course! Thank you so much Mr. Jackson! To think I thought that you guys wouldn’t have a good time was just silly of me then.” You scoffed to yourself as your own face heated up.
“Not have a good time?? ma’am you were amazing, honestly.” Michele looked at you with genuine enthusiasm— it looked as though he enjoyed the experience a little more than the kids it seemed.
“I’m glad to hear it michaal.” You turned to face him completely your hands grasping eachother in front of you.
“…”
okay this staring thing is becoming a problem with you it seems.
“Well if you don’t mind me asking, would you maybe want to… I don’t know.. go out to dinner sometime? I’d love to hear more about your passion for your work.” Michael offered nervously.
It felt as though you were stuck on glue, THE Michael Jackson asked you out on a date, you truly thought you were God’s favorite today.
“Of course! I mean yes that would be great, What time?” Your enthusiasm showing greatly from your smile.
“How about this Saturday afternoon? You know what..” he grabs a piece of paper from his left pocket and a pen and writes down his number and hands it to you.
You didn’t know many men who just so happened to carry a pen and paper on them nowadays so to you he seemed like he meant business.
“Great, I’ll see you then. For now let’s make sure Prince and Paris don’t run off to far without us. ” you giggled shoving the paper into your back pocket of your khakis.
“Right behind you mama.” He murmured to himself
“What was that?” You turned around only hearing him mumble behind you.
“N-nothing! Let’s go like you said.” He stumbled across his words before running off passed you.
“Come on I’ll race ya!” He yelled from a distance.
“Oh you are ON Michael!” You yelled back playfully as you ran after him.
A/N: alright I hope y’all had as much joy reading this as I did writing it! Also I forgot to mention my little introduction post so people can find my other works so I’ll link it belowwww!!!! Luv yall saur much thanks for supporting!!! 😊😊😊
゛𝒂uthor's note ᨳଓ ◞ this is a reminder that i do take requests! for michael , jaafar , and jermajesty. anyways, nerd!majesty supremacy!
゛𝒔ynopsis ⨾ you're supposed to be studying for finals at jermajestys' apartment. but your bestfriend has other plans.
゛𝐜ontains ━ smut w little to no plot pervy!jermajesty / nerdy!bestfriend!jermajesty fingering dryhumping oral (f!receiving) unprotected p in v ◞ 𝟮.𝟭𝟭𝟳𝓴
you were supposed to be studying.
that’s what you told yourself the entire three-block walk to jermajesty’s apartment, your backpack heavy on one shoulder, notes shoved into a folder that was already starting to tear at the edges. finals were in four days. four days of pure academic hell if you didn’t do what needed to me done. you needed quiet. you needed focus. you needed your best friend to actually act like the nerd everyone thought he was for once instead of turning the whole night into another one of his long-winded rants about…..nothing.
when he opened the door he already had his glasses on. theblack frames slightly crooked, a soft black hoodie that had spiderman printed on the front, with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, and a pencil between his teeth. his apartment smelled like laundry detergent and the faint scent of his cologne you secretly enjoyed. textbooks were open across the coffee table. a laptop glowed dimly while two bottles of water sat waiting on the black coffee table in the living room.
“hey, girl,” he said, stepping aside so you could come in. “did you bring everything? your notes, text books?”
you dropped your bag by the couch and kicked your shoes off. “yes, maj. i double checked before i left.”
you settled on the left side of the couch—the spot that had somehow become yours over the last two years of study sessions, movie nights, etc. jermajesty sat on the other end at first, his legs spread, a textbook balanced on one thigh.he read out loud when you asked him to. he explained the same paragraph three different ways when you got stuck. he even highlighted the key terms in that neat, slightly slanted handwriting of his.
then you stretched.
it wasn’t at all intentional. your back was starting to ache from sitting hunched over, so you rolled your shoulders, arched a little, and lifted your arms above your head. the movement pulled the tank top tight across your chest, the soft fabric stretching over the full curve of your breasts and dipping low enough that the tops of them spilled against the neckline. the sudden movement made your bestfriend look over, shamelessly allowing his eyes to trail down your–in his eyes– perfect body.
his eyes were locked on your chest, shameless and behind his glasses, lips slightly parted as he let his tongue flick over his bottom lip briefly. yet, he didn’t look away when he realized you’d caught him. he just cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses with one finger, and kept staring for another full second before forcing his gaze back to the textbook.
“you okay?” you asked.
you hummed and leaned forward to grab a different notebook from the table. the movement made the tank top gap even more, giving him a clear view straight down your cleavage. he felt himself growing hard through his sweats. this time, he couldn't stop himself from looking. reaching down to adjust his dick without taking his eyes away from your chest.
his hand pressed down firmly against the growing bulge in his gray sweats, shifting it once, then again, like he was trying to find a position that didn’t make the thick outline so obvious. it obviously didn’t work. the soft fabric still tented noticeably, and the way his fingers lingered for a second longer than necessary made it clear he wasn’t just rearranging—he was giving himself a slow, deliberate squeeze while his eyes stayed locked on the deep shadow between your breasts.
you didn’t give yourself time to second-guess it. one second you were leaning forward, the next your fingers hooked the neckline of your tank top and tugged it down. the soft fabric slid over the full weight of your breasts and left them bare. your nipples tightened in the cool air, pebbling slowly and openly right in front of him.
jermajesty’s mouth fell open. behind his slightly crooked glasses his eyes went wide, then darker, fixed on the sudden bare sight of you. he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.
“w-what are you—”
you pulled the tank top back up before he could finish, settling the fabric over your chest again so you were fully covered. you could see it in the way his throat worked when he swallowed, you could tell he'd been wanting to see that for a long, long time.
you looked straight into his eyes and curled two fingers in a slow come-here motion.
“c’mere, maj.”
he wasted no time crawling toward you and towering over you. you leaned back into the couch and wrapped your arms around his neck, watching him bite his lip before he leaned down and kissed you nastily. it wasn’t soft or hesitant. his mouth crashed against yours, open and hungry, tongue sliding past your lips. the taste of him mixed with the faint mint from earlier, and his glasses bumped lightly against your face as he deepened it. one hand braced on the back of the couch while the other rested on your waist.
you felt the weight of him above you, the heat of his body. his hips hovered close enough that the hard shape of him brushed your thigh when he shifted. his kiss stayed insistent, a little desperate. when he finally pulled back for air his lips were already shiny, glasses more crooked than before.
his mouth found your jaw, dragging slowly up the length of it until he reached your earlobe. your eyes nearly rolled back. you swallowed the moan that tried to escape, the effort leaving a shuddering breath in its place. your hand shot up and grabbed his wrist where it cupped your face, needing something solid to hold onto. another second of that tongue and you would’ve been stripping both of you without thinking.
his other hand slipped, tugging the strap of your tank top off your shoulder. the fabric dipped low.
“you smell so good,” he whispered, mouth moving over every soft stretch of skin he could find. the thick shape in his sweats pushed harder against your thigh. he drew you in tighter, arms circling your waist, hands gliding slowly up and down the bare skin of your back. one palm slipped lower until it settled on the curve of your ass. a gentle squeeze, then his nails pressed in with clear, hungry need.
you pulled back from the kiss and started pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his neck. your lips brushed the warm skin as you murmured against it.
“you want me, majesty, hm?”
he answered with a soft whine right into the crook of your neck. then his hips rolled forward, grinding his thick, hard length against the crotch of your leggings. the firm pressure dragged over you in a slow, deliberate stroke that forced a full-body shudder through you.
he pulled back just enough to look down and catch the dark wet spot spreading across the crotch of your leggings. his teeth sank into his bottom lip. without another word he slid off the couch and settled on his knees between your thighs.
you lifted your hips for him, letting him peel the leggings down your legs and toss them aside. left in only a pair of light blue panties, the fabric already soaked through in a clear, heavy patch right at the center. he smiled at the sight
jermajesty's hands slid under the hem of your tank top, pushing it up just enough to bare your lower stomach. soft, open-mouthed kisses landed there, warm and lingering, his voice a low murmur against your skin.
“you gon’ let me eat it, baby?”
you nodded, eager and without hesitation. he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your legs in one smooth motion, leaving you bare for him.
he gaveyour thighs a gentle nudge and you lifted them, opening yourself to him. his thumb swiped up over your clit and a sharp gasp left you. he dragged it back down your wet slit, pushing just the tip inside before pulling away again. the teasing continued, giving you only scraps of what you needed until soft, broken sounds spilled from your throat.
“maj, come on,” you whispered.
you felt his smile against your inner thigh before he turned his head and pressed a slow kiss there. every nerve felt stretched thin. your hands flew up to cover your face, holding onto the last bit of composure you had left, eyes stinging.
a quiet whimper slipped out. “ffuck, jermajesty stop teasing me..”
he bit back a smile and brought his thumb back to your clit, rubbing slow, steady circles. a moan rolled out of you. while his thumb kept working, his other hand shoved his sweats down just enough to free himself. he exhaled hard and wrapped a tight fist around his length, stroking once, twice.
your eyes opened and caught the sight of him touching himself. every muscle in your body tightened. your toes curled hard against the couch cushion as the pleasure climbed higher.
“oh my—” the rest of the words broke off. then you managed, “i’m cumming!”
he kept the pressure on your clit, steady and firm, until the aftershocks became too much. only then did he move, rising up and claiming the spot beside you on the couch. he pulled you onto him without a word. you straddled his lap, chests pressing together–after you'd taken off your tank top and bra. he then tugged his sweats lower while he took your face in both hands and kissed you deeply. his hands gripped your waist and guided you into a slow grind, his thick length sliding against your soaked center as his mouth moved to your neck.
he looked up at you, eyes dark behind the crooked glasses, and his voice came out low and rough.
“put it in. and look at me while you do it.”
he bit his lip hard as you reached down, dragging the head of his cock along your soaked entrance a few times, teasing both of you. then you sank down onto him in one slow motion. your eyes rolled back at the stretch, but he lightly tapped your cheek.
“pay attention, mama.”
both of you broke at the same time. a low, broken sound left his throat as his head fell back against the couch for half a second before he forced himself to keep watching you. you leaned in and pressed open kisses along the side of his neck, tongue dragging up to the sharp angle of his jaw while you started to move.
his arm locked around your waist and he pulled you down harder on every stroke, meeting you with short upward thrusts that forced sharp little gasps out of you. the wet sound of it filled the room. you felt yourself tighten around him and then spill, soaking his dick and the front of his sweats still bunched around his thighs.
he didn’t let you stop. his hands gripped your ass and kept you moving, guiding the rhythm so you wouldn’t slow down. your fingers dug into his shoulders, then slid up into his hair as another wave started building.
you clenched around him on the way up and softened on the way down until his breathing turned ragged. he tried to warn you, tried to lift you off, but you stayed seated and rolled your hips in a slow, deep circle that made his whole body shudder.
“wait—ease up,” he breathed out.
unfortunately for jermajesty, you ignored him and kept riding, watching his face fall apart under you. soft, high whines spilled out of him with every drop of your hips. his hands scrambled at your waist, half trying to slow you, half pulling you closer. the more he begged the more you moved, grinding down until he was a shaking, moaning mess beneath you.
the second orgasm hit you hard. you clenched tight around him and he followed with a broken, desperate sound, spilling deep inside you while his thighs trembled. even then you kept rolling your hips through it, milking every last pulse out of him until his voice went high and embarrassingly soft.
“please—stop, baby, i can’t—” he gasped, forehead pressed to your shoulder, completely spent and still twitching under you.you ran your fingers through his hair, gentle now, and felt the way he shivered under the touch.
he tipped your chin up and kissed you, slow and soft. then he scattered smaller kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the corner of your mouth, finishing with one light press to the tip of your nose.
INTRO , ۶ৎ 2K nicheinfluencer!black!reader x jermajesty jackson ◞ During a live, you reveal that you have a boyfriend. Your followers immediately try to uncover the identity of the mysterious man—until he unknowingly reveals himself. fluffy love, jerma being a lovely nerd, slightly suggestive but not smut.
NELLY'S NOTES , ⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🎐 ⋆ idk what this is guys, i was just rlly bored and want to writte sum bout maj, this is just a lil messy ik
You were sitting on the couch in the living room in your small apartment, the glow of your phone reflecting on your face as your eyes tried to read each of the comment bubbles popping up on the screen.
Yes, you were in the middle of a live stream. After a few months of not doing one due to your busy life outside of being an influencer, you decided to give your followers a little love. You also did it because you were bored and your affectionate boyfriend was nowhere to be found.
But, they didn't know that, and they didn't need to know either.
"Where is my lip liner from?" you repeated the question before looking up at the ceiling, trying to remember. "I have tons of them, but the ones I use the most are from MAC and sometimes rhode..."
You read a comment about showing your nails and immediately did so. "I got them done last week, that's why they look a little chipped."
You followed the stream of comments appearing on your screen, picked up the can of beer you had been drinking, and placed your hand right over the company logo.
"No free promo," you joked with a small laugh. "What do I listen to the most? Well, the people who have followed me since the beginning know that I love Sade... she's the GOAT."
You took a sip from the can when a comment caught your entire attention.
“Did you see the Michael movie?”
"Of course I saw it!" you replied excitedly. "In fact, I was invited to the premiere... but I couldn't make it due to scheduling conflicts."
You spent a good while like that, answering and asking them questions back. You liked knowing things about your followers just as much as they liked knowing about you; it was like a mutual trade of affection.
You were talking enthusiastically about how you wanted to start writing again, since back in high school you used to write a lot of poetry but had completely forgotten that hobby due to college and adult life, when you heard the front door open and the jingle of keys.
As you turned your face in that direction, you bumped into Jermajesty, who was holding a massive bouquet of flowers that covered his entire torso. Your eyes went wide with excitement at the sight.
"Ma—" was the only thing the live stream viewers heard before you muted the microphone.
You jumped up and ran toward him. Jermajesty hurried to hold the bouquet in his left hand while catching you with his right.
You wrapped your legs around his waist, cupping his jaw before pressing your lips together in a kiss.
"I missed you so much, Maj," you whispered against his lips. He just smiled before kissing you back.
This time the kiss was slow. He tasted the hint of beer mixed with the sweetness of the lip gloss on your lips, and the hand holding you slid down to your lower back, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"I brought you flowers. I saw them on the way and thought, 'Why not bring these gorgeous flowers to my gorgeous, wonderful girlfriend?'" he said as your feet touched the floor again. He held out the bouquet, and you took it carefully.
"Thank you so much, my love," you planted a quick kiss on his lips before rushing back to your phone.
You unmuted the stream while holding the bouquet up to the camera. "Look what my man brought me. Aren't they gorgeous?"
Jermajesty let out a laugh, sitting just out of camera view while watching the huge smile lighting up your face.
"I didn't know you had a man," you read out loud, laughing as you turned to look at the guy standing a short distance away from you. "What do you have to say, babe?"
"How could anyone expect a face this perfect not to be taken?" he teased, earning another amused look from you.
The comments were flooded with questions about who the mystery man and boyfriend was, while others were in shock, trying to figure it out by tossing out random names.
"Well, it's time for me to go, guys... it was great talking to you. Remember that the link is in my bio to help the people in GAZA, and the website to sign petitions for the women of Afghanistan," you announced, bringing your face close to the camera, smiling as you flashed a peace sign with your fingers. "Kisses, mwak, mwak, love you y'all."
And just like that, you ended the live stream. You tossed your phone onto the glass table before walking over to Jermajesty.
He looked you up and down as you slowly approached him. You stepped right between his thighs, and he quickly settled back against the couch so he could wrap his arms around your waist.
"You look really good in my t-shirt," he murmured while your hands brushed the back of his neck. You smiled at his words, leaning down toward his face. "But I think you'd look better without it."
"You think so?" you whispered right against his ear, feeling his grip tighten on you, before you were pulled down onto the couch in one swift movement. "Jermajesty!"
"Shut up and kiss me, mama..."
You didn't have to be told twice.
Your lips crashed together in a deep, passionate kiss, his hands roaming everywhere.
And just like that, you both lost yourselves in each other.
pssycola
liked by theestallion, genevievejaxn and others....
sugarlovers who’s that in the 5 pic? 👀👀
user21: apparently her boyfriend.
theestallion: BODY TEEEEEEA
pssycola: COOCHIE GOODDDDD 💆🏾♀️💆🏾♀️💆🏾♀️
user31: SHES SOFT LAUNCHING AND IM HERE FOR ITTTTTT
jerdadaupdates: I think I have seen that hand before, but idk. 👀
user76: The Jackson’s fans are everywhere 😂😂😂
genevievejaxn: ❤️❤️
pssycola: MWAK
user56: WHATS GOING ON HEREEEE?
After that, things had calmed down, though you still caught weird theories floating around about you and Jermajesty secretly dating.
Entire Twitter threads featured side-by-side photos taken in the exact same place on the exact same day. You found it wild how deeply people could investigate other people's relationships.
Not that you cared all that much. You knew that was just how social media worked, and it wasn't like you paid it any real attention.
That day, once again, you were running a live stream while getting ready to go out.
You were finishing up your lip combo when the bedroom door pushed open, and there stood Jermajesty holding a bouquet of Lego flowers with a look of pure, unadulterated pride.
You stared at him in utter shock. There was nothing you could do because the phone was positioned in a way that captured the guy crystal clear, and he seemed completely oblivious to the catastrophe he had just unleashed.
"I finally finished it!" he cheered excitedly, walking toward you with his eyes locked entirely on you. You couldn't help but smile at his proud expression.
You spun toward your camera, your eyes widening in shock all over again as you watched the comments roll in back-to-back, filled with pure surprise and excitement.
You sighed, realizing there was nothing left to do except congratulate Jermajesty on his incredible masterpiece with a kiss on the lips.
"You just caused absolute chaos on my live, Maj."
His eyes went wide. He spun around to look at the phone he hadn't noticed before.
"Mama... I'm so sorry," he mumbled, shrinking back quickly. You shook your head with a laugh, taking his hand and pulling him back toward you.
"It's fine, love. They were going to find out eventually anyway."
You placed a hand on his cheek before kissing his lips. When you pulled back, you turned your back to the him to show off your outfit while he slid his hands around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder.
"That's it, guys! I'm ready to go out with my jerman, kisses..." You blew a kiss before abruptly cutting the live stream.
Jermajesty started pressing soft kisses down your neck, making you giggle.
"Don't start that, we are not ending up late to the barbecue like last time."
"Babe..." he sighed, watching you grab your purse. "Fine, let's go."
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◟ 🕷 COME ON SPIDER-MAN, SAY YOUR STUPID LINE! ˖ ࣪ 🗯˙ MICHAEL JACKSON
INTRO , ❥ 1.23K collegepartner!black!reader x spiderman!michaeljackson . angst with happy ending fluff & michael being an applehead ⊂⊃ You’ve been with Michael for nearly four months, and everything was going well until you noticed some strange behavior: he would show up late for dates and even appear with bruises on his face, leading you to suspect he was hiding something or cheating on you. But you never imagined what the real reason was.
NELLY'S NOTE , ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ HIIIIIYA, I know I’ve been a bit absent around here, but in case you were wondering, I’m doing more than fine. The Jaafar fic is still happening, and it’s very likely I’ll pick it back up before the end of this month… In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this MJ fic; I really love the concept of Mike as Spider-Man. Once again, sorry for any potential spelling errors.
NEW YORK, 1981
You knew Michael was special from the day you met him.
Perhaps it was the gentleness within him, or the ease with which he connected with animals. It might have been the way children seemed so at peace in his presence, or how his large eyes seemed to sparkle in any light.
Michael was an angel in human form.
That’s why it came as no surprise to anyone—or rather, to you—when you stopped seeing him as just another classmate from university.
It all began with polite smiles and hallway greetings, eventually leading to shared lunches or time spent together in the library.
The library, in fact, had become their favorite spot. They would often slip away there after their busy classes to share the things they loved.
You had discovered Michael’s deep passion for music; he knew so much about it that it seemed incredible he wasn't pursuing it professionally. Not to mention, he had a beautiful voice.
And that great friendship quickly blossomed into something more.
You remembered exactly the night Michael showed up at your doorstep with a large bouquet of sunflowers and chrysanthemums—flowers he knew you loved, ever since you’d told him about the language of flowers. His curls were damp, with a few strands falling across his forehead to frame his jawline and the wide smile on his lips.
He confessed that he had loved you from the very moment you met, that your face constantly appeared in his dreams, and that—if you’d let him—he wanted to be yours in every sense of the word.
The rest was history.
After nearly four months together, things seemed to be taking a serious turn—regarding you relationship, of course.
Yet, as you spent time together, you began to notice little mysteries in his behavior.
Like the way he seemed to vanish whenever there was danger, or how he’d show up at your room some nights with various bruises on his body, or how he was always late for the dates you planned every two weeks. That afternoon, you were waiting on campus for him to arrive so you could go to the vet clinic and see the kittens there; you had told him with great excitement how much you wanted one (even though you knew full well your mother was allergic to them).
Five minutes had gone by, and knowing he would be late, you sat on the bleachers to wait for him.
Fifteen minutes passed, and the sky seemed to be growing a little darker.
An hour passed, and there was no trace of the sun left anywhere.
Two hours passed, and the raindrops soaked you completely.
You got up as quickly as you could, tears mingling with the water pouring down from the sky.
The walk home felt like pure torture; once you reached the building, you avoided meeting your mother’s pitying gaze as she saw the water dripping from your curls and clothes.
You shut yourself in your room for the rest of the day, curled up in bed clutching the stuffed animal he had given you a while back, and cried.
You cried until you fell into a deep sleep.
You were so lost in your dreams that you didn't hear your window open or notice Michael’s slender silhouette entering the room. He was wearing a gray hoodie and sweatpants.
He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, stroking your legs over the sheets that covered you. He hummed softly, making you stir in bed until you began to open your eyes.
You met Michael’s warm brown eyes, and for a moment, you forgot what had happened that day.
"Michael?" you murmured, rubbing your eyes as you sat up in bed.
He simply nodded, looking embarrassed and avoiding your gaze.
Then, you remembered.
"What are you doing here?!" You quickly got out of bed, glaring at him angrily.
Michael felt a pang in his chest at the way you looked at him.
"What do you mean, 'what am I doing here'? I came to see you, sweetheart."
"To see me? After standing me up? How dare you?" You walked to the other side of the room.
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his curls aside. "I… I…" he stammered, glancing around nervously.
"You what? Huh?" You watched him bite his lower lip. "Are you seeing someone else, Michael? Is that it? Am I not enough for you?"
That made him look at you sharply; he shook his head and walked toward you. "No, where did you get that idea?" He said your name as he looked at you.
"Then what is it? Because lately you disappear and come back with empty excuses—excuses you think I believe, but I don't, Michael… I don't believe a word of it. So, you're going to tell me today what you're hiding, or this is over. Right here, right now."
Tears were streaming down your cheeks; as hard as it was to say those words, you knew you had to draw a line for your own sake.
Michael, meanwhile, was panicking. He couldn't stop thinking about how stupid he’d been to believe he could hide something that huge from you for so long. He felt terrible for putting you in this position.
"I…" He paused to take a deep breath. "I'm Spider-Man…" he murmured, not looking at you.
"What…?" you replied immediately before bursting into laughter, tears still in your eyes. "You expect me to believe that…? Seriously?"
He stared at you, wide-eyed, incredulous at your lack of seriousness regarding his words.
"I'm serious… I'm not joking," he said your name as you continued to laugh.
"So, come on, Spider-Man—say your stupid line and get out of my house…" you said, turning your back on him while holding your bedroom door open for him to leave.
Before you could say another word, you felt something sticky hit your lower back, and then you were forcefully yanked toward Michael, ending up nose-to-nose with him.
Up close, you noticed some purple bruises on his right cheekbone. You looked at him in surprise as you saw a web slam your bedroom door shut.
"I am… Spider-Man… Do you believe me now?"
You swallowed hard, feeling the warmth of his breath on your lips; you glanced down at his mouth and then back up into his eyes.
"Yeah…" you nodded without blinking, mesmerized by the information you were still processing and the warmth in his gaze.
"I brought you flowers to apologize, but… the rain ruined them, so…" You cut him off by pressing your lips against his, kissing him hard.
You broke the kiss to rest your forehead against his. "Shut up, Spider-Man…"
At least you hadn't been deceived; rather, your boyfriend had been busy saving the city.
゛𝒂uthor's note ᨳଓ ◞ 400+ followers!! i am sosososo grateful, i could kiss you all ﹒
゛𝒔ynopsis ⨾ after weeks of asking, you finally got your parents to agree to a sleepover with michael.
゛𝐜ontains ━ unprotected p in v oral ( f!receiving ) kissing spit sweettalking fingering multiple orgasms sub!reader riskysex (?) he's an eaterrrrrrr ◞ 𝟰.𝟲𝟯𝟳𝓴
the air in your bedroom was a delicate blend of scents and sensations, alive with the hush of the night. a soft hint of lavender drifted from the sachet beneath your pillow, its floral warmth mellowed by the heat of your body, mingling with the earthy breath of a summer evening that seeped through the cracked window. the faint chirp of crickets and the rustle of leaves carried on a gentle breeze, a quiet murmur from the world beyond.
the cream curtains, laced with threads of gold like rays of dawn, swayed softly, their edges curling as if drawn to the closeness unfolding within. each sway was a whisper, the fabric catching slivers of moonlight that spilled across the hardwood floor in pale, shifting patches, casting shadows that moved like echoes of forgotten moments. the house itself seemed to breathe, its wooden frame creaking gently, a chorus of sighs that spoke of years—of joy and sorrow, of quiet days and sleepless nights—woven into its walls like the pages of a cherished journal.
your bed, nestled against the wall beneath a ceiling painted with a scattering of stars, was a haven, a sacred corner where the world’s noise faded, leaving only the rhythm of your own pulse and the dreams that bloomed in the stillness of midnight. the mattress, softened by years of use, sank slightly under your weight, its springs offering a faint, familiar groan as you shifted. the sheets, a pale blue that recalled the boundless stretch of a summer day, were worn to a velvety softness, their fibers carrying the clean, cottony scent of your laundry soap, a comforting warmth that anchored you.
the pillow beneath your head was slightly uneven, its quirks as known to you as the curves of your own hand, and it cradled your head with a gentleness that felt like home. above, the painted stars glowed faintly, their hand-drawn light a silent observer of the moments you’d spent here—reading late into the night, whispering hopes to the dark, and now, sharing this tender, electric closeness with michael.
convincing your parents to allow him to stay over had been a careful endeavor, a delicate navigation through a maze of rules and expectations. their trust was a stronghold, its boundaries forged from years of watchfulness, and earning it demanded a steady stream of reassurances—closed doors, separate spaces, the vow of innocence delivered with a calm voice, even as your heart raced with the promise of this night. you’d spent weeks building the foundation, each conversation a step toward this moment.
their agreement had come with keen-eyed conditions, their looks heavy with unspoken cautions, but now, here he was, his presence a warm, vital weight beside you in the dim glow of your room. the clock on your nightstand blinked 1:17 a.m., its soft red digits casting a ruby sheen across the polished wood, a quiet guardian in a world that felt like it belonged only to the two of you.
michael lay on his side, his voluminous afro a dark crown against the pale pillowcase, each tight curl a perfect spiral that caught the moonlight in glints of silver and shadow. his hair was a cascade of softness, framing his face like a halo, its edges blending into the room’s darkness. his deep brown eyes held a gentle intensity, their depths shimmering with a warmth that softened the boyish curve of his cheeks, as if he were gazing at a mystery he yearned to understand.
a silver chain rested against his neck, its delicate links catching the light just once, a subtle gleam that drew your eye to the pulse beating steadily beneath his skin. his worn white t-shirt, faded from countless washes, clung to his lean frame in a way that made your breath catch, the fabric soft and slightly stretched at the shoulders, carrying the faint scent of his soap—clean and cedar-warmed, grounding and familiar. his hand rested lightly on your hip, fingers brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, their warmth seeping through the thin cotton, the pads of his fingers slightly rough from hours spent writing in his notebook.
you were curled toward him, your knees tucked up, your breaths shallow in the quiet. the house was asleep, its distant snores and creaks cloaking the halls, but the weight of unseen listeners pressed against your chest, a reminder of the boundaries that lingered even in this private hour. you wanted to be loud, to let your love for him spill out in gasps and cries that would echo through the night, but tonight demanded whispers, fleeting touches, and a restraint that made every sensation burn brighter, like a spark held close to dry wood.
the sheets beneath you were cool against your skin, their pale blue a soft contrast to the heat of your body, and the pillow’s faint scent of your shampoo—something floral and light—mingled with the warmth of michael’s presence, creating a cocoon of closeness that felt both fragile and timeless.
“baby,” michael murmured, his voice a soft thread, barely stirring the air, yet it resonated in your bones like a gentle hum. his fingers traced higher, skimming the bare skin of your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth that tingled beneath his touch. his eyes searched yours, earnest and tinged with a nervous energy that made your heart ache, their brown depths catching the moonlight in flecks of amber. “can i… touch you? please?”
the question was a ritual, a sacred pause that sent your pulse racing, a testament to his care, his need to ensure you were as much a part of this as he was. he asked every time, as if your body were a temple and he a seeker requesting entry, his voice a quiet plea in the dark. you nodded, your lips parting on a shaky exhale, the sound barely audible against the creak of the house, and shifted onto your back, letting the sheets slide down your legs with a soft rustle.
the cotton was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth of his hand as it followed the curve of your thigh, coaxing your legs apart with a gentleness that felt like a caress, his touch a whisper against your skin.
your knees knocked together, a reflex born of anticipation and nerves, the faint tremble in your limbs a quiet admission of how much you wanted this. michael smiled, a soft, radiant thing that made your chest ache, his teeth a flash of white in the dim light, the curve of his lips a promise of tenderness. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb stroking the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, the motion a soothing rhythm that calmed the frantic beat of your heart. “just wanna feel you, love. just you.”
the words wrapped around you like a warm breeze, their rhythm a melody that eased you into a state of surrender, and you felt your body relax, your legs parting further under his touch. he moved with reverence, his fingers brushing the hem of your sleep shirt, a loose, oversized thing that hung past your hips, its fabric soft and slightly frayed at the edges. he paused, his eyes flickering to yours, seeking permission once more, and when you nodded again, a faint smile tugging at your lips, he lifted the shirt slowly, peeling it up and over your head.
the cool air kissed your skin, raising goosebumps across your chest, and he tossed the shirt onto the floor without a care.
his hands returned to you, warm and steady, and he hooked his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, a simple cotton pair in a soft lavender that matched the sachet’s scent. the fabric was thin, slightly worn, and it clung to your hips with a comforting familiarity. he tugged gently, sliding them down your thighs, past your knees, until they pooled at your ankles. you kicked them off, the motion a quiet rustle in the stillness, and they landed in a soft heap at the foot of the bed, a small, intimate detail in the fabric of the night.
you were bare now, vulnerable and open, and the weight of his gaze was a warm embrace, wrapping you in awe and devotion.
michael shifted, positioning you with a gentle touch, guiding your knees up and apart until you were spread before him, the vulnerability making your heart race. “hold your legs back, love,” he murmured, his voice a low hum, the words both a request and a caress. you complied, gripping the backs of your thighs, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh, the effort making your muscles tremble faintly. the position opened you fully to him, your core exposed to the cool air and the heat of his gaze, and you felt a flush creep up your chest, warming your cheeks.
his eyes softened, their brown depths shimmering with wonder, and he exhaled slowly, his breath a warm puff against your skin.
“you’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with awe, the sound a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. he lowered himself, settling between your thighs, his shoulders brushing the insides of your knees, the contact grounding and electric. his curls grazed your skin, soft and ticklish, as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your core, a prelude to the closeness to come.
he pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, his lips warm and slightly chapped, the sensation a quiet spark that made your breath hitch. another kiss followed, higher, closer, his mouth tracing a slow path toward your center, each press of his lips a whisper of devotion. when his mouth finally found you, the first touch was a deep, hungry kiss, his lips pressing firmly against your folds, the sensation a slow bloom of heat that spread from your core to the tips of your toes.
he didn’t hold back, his mouth moving with a fervent intensity, kissing your core like he would your lips, deep and possessive, his tongue darting out to taste the slickness that gathered there.
he sucked gently, his lips closing around your folds, pulling softly, the wet sound a quiet melody in the stillness, mingling with the creak of the house. his tongue followed, licking in broad, slow strokes, parting you to explore every curve, every sensitive inch, as if committing you to memory. the wet warmth of his mouth was a contrast to the cool air, and you felt every detail—the soft press of his lips, the faint graze of his teeth, the way his tongue flicked lightly, teasing and reverent.
he pulled back slightly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours, dark with hunger, and let a slow, deliberate drop of spit fall from his lips, landing on your clit, the warm, slick sensation making you gasp, your fingers tightening on your thighs.
“you taste so good,” he growled, his voice a low, guttural hum, the words vibrating against your skin as he dove back in. he licked through the wetness he’d added, his tongue swirling around your clit, spreading the slickness in messy, deliberate circles. he sucked harder, his lips sealing around the sensitive bud, pulling with a rhythmic pressure that sent sparks through you, your vision blurring at the edges.
his tongue flicked rapidly, a relentless tease, then flattened, dragging slowly, the pressure perfect and maddening. he spat again, the act raw and intimate, the warm wetness pooling at your entrance, and he lapped it up, his tongue diving deeper, probing, tasting you with a hunger that felt almost primal.
his hands rested on your thighs, steadying you, his fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh. his tongue swirled around your clit, teasing and sucking, his lips brushing against you as he whispered, “you’re so perfect, baby.” his fingers found their way to your entrance, circling slowly before slipping inside, curling to find that spot that made you gasp. the combination of his tongue and fingers was overwhelming, your body trembling as he worked you with expert precision.
he pulled back slightly, his lips glistening, and spat again, the slickness adding to the intensity as he dove back in, sucking harder, his tongue flicking in a relentless rhythm. he kissed you deeply, his lips pressing against your entrance, tongue dipping inside, tasting you with a fervor that made your head spin. the sounds were wet, unrestrained, a secret shared in the stillness, amplifying the intimacy of the moment.
he shifted slightly, one hand leaving your thigh to trace the edge of your entrance, his fingers warm and slightly rough. he paused, his eyes flickering up to meet yours, seeking permission in the dim light, and when you nodded, a faint whimper escaping your lips, he slipped a finger inside, slow and deliberate. the stretch was gentle, a quiet ache that felt both foreign and achingly perfect, his long finger filling you with a warmth that made your breath catch.
he moved it slowly, in and out, the slick glide amplified by the wetness of his spit and your arousal, and you felt every inch—the slight curve of his knuckle, the faint roughness of his fingertip, the way he curled it slightly, searching for the spot that made you tremble.
when he found it, a soft press against a sensitive ridge, you gasped, the sound slipping out before you could stop it, your voice a fragile whisper in the stillness. “right there, michael,” you breathed, the words a desperate plea, barely audible against the creak of the house. his eyes lit up, a spark of pride in their depths, the brown of his irises glowing with a quiet triumph. he curled his finger again, pressing harder, the motion a deliberate spark that sent a wave of pleasure crashing through you, and added a second finger, the stretch fuller, deeper, a quiet ache that only heightened the bliss.
“you’re so wet,” he murmured, his voice a low hymn, the words a prayer against the silence of the night, rough with awe and hunger. his mouth returned to your clit, sucking hard, his lips sealing around it, pulling with a pressure that made your vision blur, his tongue flicking rapidly, teasing the sensitive bud. his fingers rocked in and out, the wet sounds loud in the stillness, a secret symphony that filled the space between you, amplified by the slickness he’d added.
he spat again, the warm wetness landing at your entrance, and he worked it in with his fingers, the glide smooth and relentless, curling against that sensitive spot with a precision that felt almost unfair, a rhythm that seemed to know your body better than you did.
the pleasure was a living thing, a force that clawed at your insides, demanding release, its grip fierce and unyielding. his mouth was relentless, kissing and sucking, spitting and licking, each movement a stroke of ecstasy, painting pleasure in shades of heat and shadow behind your closed eyelids. your thighs trembled, knees brushing together in a futile attempt to ground yourself, and he cooed softly, his lips grazing your inner thigh, the warmth of his breath a contrast to the cool air.
“shh, love,” he murmured, leaning closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “gotta be quiet for me, yeah? just let me take care of you.”
you nodded, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as you fought to keep silent, the effort a delicious torment that made your throat ache with the need to cry out. every sound you swallowed amplified the pleasure, a coil winding tighter with each lick, each thrust, each wet kiss of his mouth. his fingers pressed deeper, curling against that sensitive spot, his mouth a chaotic dance of hunger and reverence, sucking and spitting, licking and kissing, the slickness a testament to his fervor.
your walls fluttered around his fingers, drawing him deeper, a quiet pull that felt like a current, and he exhaled sharply, his breath warm against your skin, his curls tickling your thighs as he moved.
“you look so beautiful like this,” he whispered, his voice a reverent hum against your core, the words a soft vibration that sent a shiver down your spine. he pressed a messy kiss there, lips smearing the slickness, then another, his breath warm and unsteady. “love watching you, sweetheart. love tasting you.” his words were a balm, each one a thread that wove you tighter into the fabric of the moment, a weave of moonlight and whispers, of wet touches and shared breaths.
your hands clutched the sheets, knuckles white as you fought to stay quiet, the effort making your muscles taut, your body a bowstring drawn tight. the pleasure was a flood, rising and falling, each wave stronger than the last, a relentless force that threatened to sweep you away. you felt it in the tightening of your core, the way your walls gripped his fingers, a desperate cling that drew him deeper, the way your thighs shook as you held them back, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh.
his touch was a language, speaking of care and hunger, of a boy who wanted to know every inch of you, to memorize the way you moved and sighed, to etch your pleasure into his memory like a melody.
“michael,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible, a plea and a prayer, the sound a fragile thing in the stillness. your hips rocked against his mouth, chasing the edge that loomed so close, a precipice you were desperate to leap from, and he hummed again, the vibration a spark that ignited the fire within you. “i got you, baby,” he murmured, his voice a velvet promise, the words a lifeline in the storm of your desire.
he curled his fingers harder, the motion a deliberate press that sent a jolt through you, and his mouth pressed firmly against your clit, sucking hard, spitting once more, the slickness smeared by his tongue in tight, wet circles, each one a spark that built the blaze.
the sensation was a lightning bolt, sharp and all-consuming, and you felt yourself tip over, your body shattering into a thousand shimmering fragments, a galaxy of light that rivaled the stars painted on your ceiling. you came with a muffled cry, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle the sound, your walls pulsing around his fingers in a rhythm that felt like a heartbeat, a frantic drum that echoed in your chest.
the pleasure was blinding, a wave that crashed and receded only to crash again, each aftershock drawn out by the slow, deliberate movements of his mouth, a gentle coaxing that prolonged the bliss. michael didn’t stop, his fingers rocking gently, his tongue easing its pressure but never stilling, licking softly through the slickness, coaxing every last tremor from your body, each one a ripple in the wake of the storm.
he kissed you through it, his lips soft and hungry against your core, swallowing the quiet moans that slipped past your restraint, his breath mingling with the slickness of your arousal. his breath was ragged, a mirror to your own, and you felt the tremor in his hand, the way he was as affected by this as you were, his heart racing beneath the fabric of his shirt. “so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion, the words a quiet confession of his awe. “you feel so good, mama.”
the words sank into you, heavy and warm, a balm to the raw edges of your pleasure, and you felt the afterglow wrap around you like a soft blanket, a gentle cocoon of warmth and contentment. your body was a map of sensations—the lingering pulse between your thighs, a faint throb that echoed the rhythm of your climax, the faint ache in your fingers from gripping your thighs, the warmth of his breath against your skin.
michael eased his fingers out, the loss making you whimper softly, a quiet protest against the emptiness, and his knuckles glistened in the moonlight, a quiet testament to the intimacy you’d shared, the slickness a badge of your surrender.
he sat up slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, and tugged at the waistband of his pajama pants, a soft, checkered pair in shades of navy and gray that hung low on his hips. the fabric was worn, slightly frayed at the hem, and it slid down his thighs with a soft rustle, pooling at his knees. his erection sprang free, hard and ready, a study in contrasts—the hardness of his arousal against the softness of his skin, the vulnerability in his eyes against the quiet strength of his frame—and you felt a surge of tenderness as you took in the sight of him, the moonlight casting shadows across his skin, highlighting the curve of his length, the faint pulse beneath.
he didn’t move to change your position, instead settling back between your thighs, his hands guiding your legs to stay open, your fingers still gripping the backs of your thighs as you held them back. “stay like this, m'kay?” he requested, his voice a low rumble, the words a caress that sent a shiver through you. he aligned himself, the tip of him brushing against your entrance, warm and slick with your arousal, and paused, his eyes searching yours, seeking that final permission.
you nodded, your lips parting on a shaky exhale, and he entered you slowly, a deep, deliberate thrust that filled you completely, the stretch a quiet ache that made your toes curl.
his movements were unhurried, each thrust slow but profound, reaching depths that drew soft gasps from your lips. the sensation was a tide, rising with each measured stroke, his rhythm a language of care and hunger. you felt every inch of him—the slick glide, the faint pulse of his arousal, the way he filled you completely, a fullness that made your heart race. his hands rested on your hips, steady and sure, his fingers sinking slightly into the soft flesh, grounding you in the moment.
the sheets tangled around your knees, their soft blue a comforting weight, and the pillow beneath your head shifted slightly, its uneven familiarity a quiet anchor.
he leaned closer, his lips finding your neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against the sensitive skin, each one a spark that sent shivers down your spine. his breath was warm, his kisses trailing higher, brushing behind your ear, the tender spot making you tremble. “you’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice a soft murmur against your skin, the words a quiet vow that sank into you, warm and heavy. “love how you feel, baby.” his lips pressed another kiss behind your ear, then returned to your neck, the rhythm of his kisses matching the slow, deep thrusts, each one a stroke of intimacy that wove you closer together.
“feel so good, pretty girl ,” he whispered, his voice rough with awe, his breath warm against your neck as he kissed you again, the sensation a quiet fire that burned alongside the pleasure of his thrusts. his movements were a steady pulse, each one a brush of ecstasy, painting pleasure in shades of warmth and shadow behind your closed eyelids. you rocked your hips to meet him, the motion a quiet dance, your walls gripping him, a desperate cling that drew a soft groan from his lips, the sound a melody in the stillness.
but your moans grew louder, spilling into the silence, too unrestrained for the sleeping house. the sound echoed in your ears, a reckless confession of your pleasure, and michael paused, his gaze darting to the door, his breath hitching. “gotta be quiet, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, the warmth of his breath a contrast to the cool air. he shifted, guiding you gently but firmly, flipping you onto your stomach with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “arch for me,” he said, his hands lifting your hips, coaxing your back into a soft curve, the position opening you to him in a new way.
he pressed your face into the pillow, the uneven fabric muffling your cries, its faint scent of lavender and shampoo a quiet comfort. the pillow swallowed your moans, amplifying the sensation of his touch, and he entered you again, his length filling you with a slow, deep thrust that reached deeper than before, the angle a spark that ignited every nerve. his movements were deliberate, each thrust a measured stroke, slow but profound, the rhythm a quiet symphony of intimacy.
his hands gripped your hips, steady and sure, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh, and you felt the heat of him, the faint pulse of his arousal, the way he moved with a care that spoke of devotion.
he leaned down, his lips finding your neck again, pressing soft kisses against the sensitive skin, each one a quiet spark that sent shivers through you. his breath was warm, his kisses trailing behind your ear, the tender spot making you tremble. “you’re everything,” he whispered, his voice a soft murmur against your skin, the words a quiet promise that sank into you, warm and heavy. “love you so much, baby.” his lips pressed another kiss behind your ear, then returned to your neck, the rhythm of his kisses matching the slow, deep thrusts, each one a stroke of intimacy that wove you closer together.
the pleasure was a wildfire, spreading from your core, and you clutched the sheets, knuckles white as you fought to stay quiet, the effort a delicious torment. his thrusts were a language, speaking of care and hunger, of a boy who wanted to know every inch of you, to memorize the way you moved and sighed. the wet sounds of your bodies were a secret shared beneath the sheets, a quiet melody that filled the space between you, and you felt every detail—the slick glide, the faint ache of the stretch, the way he moved with a care that spoke of devotion.
the pleasure built in waves, crashing against your restraint, each thrust a spark that ignited the blaze, and when you came, it was with a muffled sob, your walls pulsing around him, a frantic rhythm that echoed in your chest. michael felt the tightening, his breath hitching, and he slowed, his thrusts growing shallower, more controlled. he leaned close, his lips brushing your neck, whispering, “i’m close, baby,” his voice a soft tremor against your skin.
with a final, deep thrust, he pulled out, his release spilling across your lower back, warm and fleeting, his groan stifled against your shoulder, the sound a quiet confession of his unraveling.
he eased you down, pulling you into his arms, his chest warm against your back. he pressed a kiss to your hair, his breath unsteady, and grabbed a tissue from the nightstand, gently cleaning you up with a tenderness that made your heart ache. “you okay?” he asked, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your arm, soothing and grounding, a quiet dance of touch that spoke of care.
“more than okay,” you whispered, nestling into him, your cheek against the steady thump of his heart, the rhythm a quiet lullaby in the stillness. the stars on the ceiling watched over you, their painted light a witness to the intimacy you’d shared, and the house sighed, its creak a lullaby that sang you into dreams. his arms were a haven, his love a quiet promise, and as sleep claimed you, tangled in blue sheets, you knew this was a moment in a story that would grow richer with every stolen touch, every whisper, every quiet breath in the dark.
( this was from last year but I have new stuff coming! )
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ALL YOU DO IS DIAL 𖥔 ݁ ˖ ──── otw bf!michael x black ⨍!reader
summary: after a long day at work, you call your boyfriend to vent about your frustrating boss and everything that went wrong at work. he patiently listens, reassuring you with his soft voice and affectionate words. but all while you complain, michael finds himself distracted.
contains: just fluff and michael being down bad for you. lots of dialogue because obviously they’re on the phone.
after a long day of work, there was nothing you wanted more than to hear michael's voice.
you had barely made it through the front door before kicking off your shoes, dropping your purse onto the nearest chair, and making your way toward the telephone. the exhaustion of the day had settled heavily over you, the kind that made your shoulders ache and your patience run dangerously thin. all you wanted was to complain to somebody who would actually listen, and luckily for you, you knew exactly who to call.
you dialed his number from memory, twisting the telephone cord loosely around your fingers as you waited. when he finally answered, his voice came through the receiver soft and familiar, immediately making something in your chest loosen.
"hello?"
just hearing him was enough to make you smile.
"michael?"
"hey, mama."
the tired sigh that escaped you made him smile on the other end of the line. he didn't even have to ask what was wrong. he could hear it in your voice.
"bad day?"
"you have no idea."
and just like that, you started talking. you told him everything. you told him about your boss, who had apparently decided that your entire purpose in life was to complete every task he could possibly think of before the end of the day. according to you, the man had practically refused to let you breathe without assigning you something else to do. you had barely finished one thing before another stack of papers appeared on your desk, followed by another request, then another, until you were convinced he was doing it on purpose.
michael listened patiently, occasionally humming in acknowledgment whenever you paused long enough to take a breath.
"mhm."
you continued.
"i'm serious, michael. i can't do this anymore. he walked over to my desk four times today. four. i hadn't even finished the first thing he gave me before he came back with something else."
"mhm."
"and then he had the nerve to ask me why i looked tired."
that earned another quiet laugh from him.
"i'm sorry, baby doll."
"don't laugh."
"i'm not laughing at you."
"you are."
"i'm listening."
you could hear the smile in his voice, which only made you roll your eyes despite the fact that he couldn't see you.
"you think i'm bein’ funny."
"i think you're cute when you're mad."
"michael."
"what?"
you tried to sound annoyed, but the smile threatening the corners of your mouth gave you away.
he could picture you perfectly on the other end of the line, probably sitting somewhere comfortable with your legs tucked beneath you, your hair slightly messy from the long day, your beautiful brown eyes narrowed as you complained about everything that had gone wrong. he knew you well enough to know that once you started venting, there was no stopping you until every last detail had been brought to his attention.
and honestly, he didn't mind.
he loved listening to you.
even when you were rambling, even when you repeated yourself, even when you went off on some completely unrelated tangent halfway through explaining what your boss had done. there was something comforting about hearing your voice fill the quiet room around him.
michael sat back in his chair, the telephone receiver pressed against his ear, occasionally glancing toward the clock on the wall. the rest of the house had grown quiet, leaving only the faint sounds of the evening around him. somewhere outside, a car passed down the street, its tires humming against the pavement before fading into the distance.
but his attention remained entirely on you or at least, he tried to keep it there.
because as much as he wanted to be the attentive boyfriend you needed, his mind had a habit of wandering.
he thought about your lips.
he thought about the way they curved whenever you smiled at him, the way you would sometimes bite your bottom lip when you were trying not to laugh at something he said. he remembered the feeling of kissing you earlier, how naturally you always seemed to fit against him, and suddenly the conversation became considerably harder to concentrate on.
then there were your eyes.
those beautiful eyes of yours had always been his weakness. he could practically picture them as you spoke, expressive enough that he rarely needed to ask what you were feeling. he knew the little look you gave him when you were teasing, the softer one when you were affectionate, and the unmistakable narrowing of your eyes whenever you were irritated.
right now, he imagined they were probably still carrying that little bit of frustration from your day.
"michael?"
he blinked.
"yeah?"
"are you listening?"
"of course i'm listening."
there was a brief pause.
"what did i just say?"
he smiled to himself.
"you said your boss is driving you crazy."
"before that."
"you said you were thinking about quitting."
"and before that?"
michael laughed under his breath.
"you said he gave you too much work."
"exactly."
"see? i'm listening."
you couldn't help but smile.
"barely."
"i'm listening to every word."
he meant it, even if his thoughts occasionally wandered somewhere they shouldn't.
your voice softened as the conversation continued, your frustration slowly giving way to exhaustion. you admitted that you had seriously considered walking into your boss's office, placing your resignation on his desk, and leaving without looking back.
"i almost quit today," you confessed.
that made michael's voice immediately become more serious.
"you did?"
"mhm. i was that close."
"well, i'm glad you didn't make a decision while you were angry."
you sighed.
"i know. i just hate feeling like i'm never doing enough."
"you are doing enough."
his answer came so easily that you went quiet.
"you work hard," he continued. "you always have. one bad day doesn't change that."
you swallowed, suddenly feeling much more emotional than you had expected.
"you really think so?"
"i know so."
there was something about the way he said it that made your heart flutter.
"thank you."
"you don't have to thank me, mama."
you smiled, resting your cheek against the palm of your hand as you listened to him.
"i just needed to complain."
"then complain."
"you're sure?"
"mhm."
"you don't mind?"
"not at all."
another little smile pulled at your lips.
"you're too good to me."
"somebody's gotta be."
you laughed softly, and michael found himself smiling at the sound.
he wished he could see you.
he wished you were sitting beside him instead of on the other end of the telephone line. he wanted to reach over and brush the hair away from your face, pull you closer, kiss your forehead, and remind you that tomorrow would be better. instead, all he could do was listen to the sound of your voice and imagine the warmth of you beside him.
"i'm sorry to hear that, mama," he murmured whenever your voice became heavy again. "that sounds like a rough day."
each time he said it, your heart seemed to flutter a little harder.
you weren't even sure when you stopped being upset.
one minute you were complaining about your boss, the next you were sitting there quietly, smiling at the sound of michael's voice.
his soft little mhms.
his gentle laughter.
the way he called you mama whenever he wanted to reassure you.
somewhere along the way, you had completely forgotten what you were angry about.
"you still there?" he asked.
"mhm."
"you got quiet."
"i'm listening to you now."
"oh, so now it's my turn?"
"maybe."
he chuckled.
"what do you want me to talk about?"
you smiled, absentmindedly winding the telephone cord around your finger.
"anything."
there was a small pause.
"well..."
his voice softened.
"i've been thinkin’ about you all day."
your smile grew.
"have you?"
"mhm."
"what were you thinking about?"
he hesitated, suddenly amused by the fact that he could feel himself getting shy.
"your eyes."
you laughed softly.
"my eyes?"
"yeah."
"why?"
"because they're pretty."
you could practically hear the smile on his face.
"and your lips."
your cheeks warmed immediately.
"michael."
"what?"
"you're supposed to be comforting me."
"i am."
"by talking about my lips?"
"it's working, ain’t it?"
you tried to deny it, but the quiet laugh that escaped you betrayed everything.
and michael smiled because that was exactly what he wanted.
not because he wanted to distract you from your problems, but because he wanted to remind you that there was still something soft waiting for you at the end of a difficult day.
you stayed on the phone much longer than either of you intended, the conversation drifting from your terrible day to little stories, teasing, laughter, and comfortable silences.
by the time you finally glanced at the clock, your frustration was gone.
all that remained was the warmth in your chest and the lingering sound of his voice in your ear.
"better?" he asked.
you smiled.
"much better."
"good."
"thank you for listening."
"always, mama."
you closed your eyes, letting yourself sink further into the chair.
"i love you."
there was a brief silence before his voice came through even softer than before.
"i love you too."
and somehow, after everything that had happened that day, those four words were all you needed to hear.
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