jermaineya

“ahh… michael… fuck!”

michael had you on your back in the middle of the big hotel bed, silk sheets twisted under your bare deep-brown skin, one of your legs hooked high over his shoulder while he stroked into you slow and deep. the kind of early-morning pace that felt like he was trying to ruin you before breakfast. every time he bottomed out you felt it in your stomach. your nails were digging little half-moon marks into his back. your hair—which was neatly pressed and curled was now a soft mess against the pillow. the only sounds in the suite were the quiet wet slide of him moving inside you and the soft broken noises you kept trying (and failing) to keep down.

his mouth was at your throat, voice low and wrecked. “look at you, tink. taking me so good this early…”

you were about to cum by now, i mean how could you not—michael was giving it to you reallll good. you could feel the pleasure tighten, hot pressure building up on and in your pussy—thighs starting to shake, breath hitching, mouth agape-

and then he just… stopped.

pulled all the way out with a soft wet sound, kissed the center of your chest once like an apology he didn’t mean, and rolled off the bed in one smooth motion.

you blinked up at the ceiling, empty and throbbing, legs still open.

“michael?”

he didn’t answer. he was already at the window, bare-ass naked except for the smile spreading across his face as he parted the heavy curtains with two fingers and peeked out—only revealing his head.

the second the glass reflected the morning light the screams from the street below exploded. hundreds of fans. cameras. signs. the whole block had somehow found the hotel again.

michael lifted one hand and gave a tiny, shy little wave. that soft, almost bashful smile beaming along with the sound hehe sound coming from his lips. the crowd lost its mind. you sat up so fast the sheet barely covered anything, naked breasts shaking.

“are you serious right now?”

he didn’t even look back. just kept smiling down at them like he hadn’t been balls-deep in you thirty seconds ago.

“they’re so sweet,” he says, voice all soft and fond. “listen to them…”

you scrambled off the bed, snatching the top sheet and wrapping it around your body like a toga, heart slamming. the second you were on your feet the reality of the situation hit: you were completely naked underneath this thin white fabric, still wet and open from him, and the only thing between you and a very public disaster was a half-drawn hotel curtain and michael’s questionable sense of timing.

you marched over and grabbed a fistful of the heavy drape, yanking it shut so hard the rings rattled.

the room dropped back into soft shadow.

michael finally turned, that same little smile still on his face, eyes bright.

“morning, baby” he cooed, like this was normal.

you stared at him.

“you pulled out,” you stated slowly, “in the middle of me—i was—to go wave at people?” you were dumbfounded, you could wrap your head around the fact that he would stop that magical process of making love to go wave at a bunch of strangers.

he had the nerve to look a little proud. “i heard them calling—you know i can’t ignore my fans. i just wanted to say hi.”

“hi?”

“mmhm.”

but he was in the middle of saying hi to this pussy…you clutched the sheet to your chest now, tightly against your chest due to the irritation building in your stomach. your pulse was still hammering between your legs where he’d left you empty and aching. the annoyance was real—hot and sharp—but so was the residual heat of how good he’d felt two minutes ago.

“michael. i am naked. dripping. from you. and you just left me mid-stroke to go be cute for the sidewalk.”

he stepped closer, completely unbothered by his own nakedness, cock still half-hard and shiny from being inside you. his hands found your waist over the sheet, thumbs stroking slow circles.

“you looked so pretty, though” he murmured. “eyes all wide. mouth open. i almost came just from that.”

“that is not helping your case, michael.”

“i checked the angle,” he added, like that made it better. “they couldn’t see past my shoulder. promise.”

you opened your mouth, closed it, then pointed a finger at his chest. “you are sooo lucky i love you.”

his smile stretched wider. “i know.”

he walked you backward until the backs of your knees hit the mattress again. the sheet started slipping. he helped it along, tugging the fabric down until it pooled at your hips, leaving your breasts bare to the cool air and his gaze. his eyes dropped, soft and hungry all at once.

“still mad?” he asked, voice dropping lower.

“extremely.”

“good.” he kissed the corner of your mouth, then lower, along your jaw. “stay mad. it makes your voice do that little thing.”

you tried to hold onto the annoyance, you really did. but then his mouth closed over one nipple and sucked slow, and the sound that left you was pure contradiction. his hand slid between your legs, two fingers gliding through the mess he’d left, finding you still soaked and sensitive.

“jesus, baby…” he breathed against your skin. “you’re still so open for me.”

you huffed, stilled slightly annoyed. “because somebody started something and then abandoned it for a damn meet-and-greet.”

he laughed, soft and warm, and the vibration went straight through you. then he was guiding you back onto the bed, crawling over you, settling between your thighs like he’d never left. the head of his cock nudged against your entrance, teasing, not pushing in yet.

you glared up at him, even as your hips tried to chase the pressure. “if you stop again to go wave at somebody i’m putting you out of this room.”

“okay, baby geez.” he kissed you deep, slow, tasting like last night and this morning and pure mischief. when he finally pushed back inside it was one long, smooth thrust that stole the air right out of your lungs.

you both exhaled at the same time.

michael dropped his forehead to yours, eyes half-lidded, that little smile still playing at the edges of his mouth even as he started moving—deeper this time, more deliberate, like he was making up for the interruption with interest.

“there she is,” he whispered. “my girl. taking me so good after i was mean to her…”

“y-yeah—mmm—very mean.” you wrapped your legs around him and dug your nails into his back in retaliation.

he groaned, hips snapping a little harder. the bed creaked. outside, the fans were still screaming, the sound muted now by the closed curtains but still present, like distant weather. michael seemed to hear it too, because he leaned down and put his mouth right against your ear while he fucked you steady and deep.

“they have no idea,” he murmured. “none of them. they’re standing out there yelling my name… and the whole time i’m in here buried in the only person who actually gets to have me like this.”

the words went straight to your clit. you clenched around him hard enough that his rhythm stuttered. he cursed softly, one hand sliding down to grip your thigh and push it higher so he could grind even deeper. every stroke dragged against that perfect spot inside you. the wet sounds of it filled the quiet suite.

“mmm- baby don’t stop!”you were already so close again from earlier. it didn’t take long. michael felt it building—felt the way your walls started fluttering—and he reached between your bodies to rub tight, perfect circles over your clit with his thumb.

“come on,” he breathed. “give it to me. i left you hanging earlier… let me fix it.”

the orgasm hit hard and sudden, rolling through you in deep waves. your back arched, a high broken sound tearing out of your throat before you could muffle it against his shoulder. michael kept thrusting through it, soft praises spilling against your neck, riding every pulse until you were shaking and oversensitive.

he didn’t stop.

he just slowed, kissed you through the aftershocks, then started building again—longer strokes, deeper angle, the kind of pace that said he was nowhere near finished. you felt him thickening inside you, the controlled way his breath was starting to hitch.

“again,” he says against your mouth, smiling. “properly this time.”

you laughed, breathless and still a little annoyed and completely gone for him “you’re ridiculous.”

“you love it.”

“unfortunately.”

he laughed, warm and quiet, and the vibration went straight through you. then he was guiding you into a different direction, but this time he lay down first, stretching out on his back against the pillows, cock hard and waiting against his stomach. he looked up at you with that soft, mischievous smile and patted his thighs.

“come here, honey” he murmured quietly. “ride me. make up for the fact that i was mean to you.”

you stared at him for a second, still annoyed, still throbbing. then you climbed on, straddling his hips, the sheet falling completely away. your deep-brown skin glowed in the soft morning light leaking around the edges of the curtains. michael’s hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking the soft curve of your hips as you reached down, guided him to your entrance, and sank down slowly.

the stretch pulled a long, broken moan straight out of your throat.

“ahh—fuck—!”

michael’s head tipped back against the pillows, a low sound leaving him as you took him all the way. his fingers tightened on your hips.

“there she is,” he whispered, voice already wrecked. “my girl… taking every inch…”

you braced your hands on his chest and started to move—slow at first, rolling your hips the way you knew drove him crazy. every downward sink dragged another moan out of you, soft and high and completely shameless. the wet sound of you taking him filled the quiet suite. your hair fell forward around your face. michael reached up and brushed it back so he could watch every expression.

“oh my god… michael…” you moaned, voice already shaky as you found a rhythm, lifting almost all the way off before sliding back down deep. “you feel so good—”

“that’s it,” he breathed, eyes dark and locked on where your bodies met. “use me. take what you need.”

you did. your moans grew louder the longer you rode him—breathy little gasps every time the head of his cock dragged over that perfect spot, longer broken sounds when you ground down and circled your hips. your nails dug lightly into his chest. your thighs flexed with every rise and fall. michael’s hands stayed on your waist, guiding but never taking over, letting you set the pace while he watched you fall apart above him.

“look at you,” he murmured, almost in awe. “moaning for me like that… after i left you hanging…”

“shut up,” you managed, but the words turned into another high, needy moan when he thrust up to meet you. “ahh fuck! right there!”

he did it again. and again. matching your rhythm, hips rolling up every time you sank down so he hit even deeper. the dual motion pulled louder sounds out of you—soft at first, then full and shameless, the kind that echoed a little in the big hotel room. outside, the fans were still screaming, muted by the closed curtains. michael seemed to hear it too, because he sat up halfway, one arm wrapping around your back so he could pull you closer while you kept riding him.

“they have no idea,” he whispered against your throat, voice rough. “none of them. they’re out there yelling my name… and the whole time you’re up here moaning like this.”

the words went straight through you. you clenched around him hard and a sharp, shaky cry left your mouth as you bounced a little faster, chasing the building pressure. michael’s hand slid between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, perfect circles in time with every roll of your hips.

“don’t stop… please don’t stop—” you moaned, forehead dropping to his shoulder as the pleasure sharpened. “michael… i’m so close—”

“i know, baby. i feel you. let me hear it.”

you came hard—back arching, a long broken moan tearing out of your throat as your walls fluttered and pulsed around him. michael held you through it, still rolling his hips up into you, soft praises spilling against your skin while you shook and moaned and rode out every wave.

you stayed there for a long moment after, still seated on him, both of you breathing hard. michael’s hands stroked slow patterns over your thighs and hips, soft kisses pressed to whatever part of you he could reach. outside, the fans were still going. michael lifted his head just enough to glance toward the closed curtains, that same soft, mischievous smile ghosting across his face.

you reached down and lightly smacked his chest without looking, the motion pulling a weak little aftershock moan out of you.

“don’t even think about it.”

he laughed against your skin, warm and happy and completely unrepentant. “wouldn’t dream of it, baby.”

you eventually eased off him and collapsed onto the sheets beside him. he immediately gathered you against his chest, one arm wrapped around you, the other playing idly with the ends of your hair. every so often a soft residual sound still slipped out of you when his fingers brushed too close to somewhere sensitive.

after a while he spoke again, voice quiet and a little shy around the edges the way it sometimes got when the playfulness settled.

“sorry i stopped earlier, tink” but his devious smile said otherwise.

you tipped your head back to look at him, still a little breathless. “no you’re not.”

the smile returned, soft and guilty and perfect.

“…okay. not really.” he laughed, a high pitched hehe filling the room again.

you kissed your teeth. “asshole”

he moved his head, wanting to kiss you but you just dodged his gesture making him pout.

“mama.” he says before trying again only getting the same result as you pressed a hand to his naked chest, keeping him at a distance. “let me kiss you.”

you shook your head, hand still on his chest. “nu uh you want to play games and I’m not here for it.” you scolded only making michael pout more.

you stared at him for a long second and he stared at you back. it was almost like a evil idea clouded his brain the way his face lit up in a devilish way.

“michael what are y- eeekk!”

right then and there, michael had climbed on top of you, caging your wrist on both sides of your head—legs weighted against yours not letting you sit up. you were completely resisted at his mercy. then he placed one big kiss on your cheek, then forehead, then finally your lips. each kiss punctuated with a smooooch! sound. you moaned to the kiss, body once tense from the impact was now relaxed and melting into michael’s love.

once he pulled away, he looked into your eyes. “i love you, tink.” you could never stay mad at michael. not when he’s giving you this toothy grin, smile lines widening over the curvature of his face.

“i love you too, baby….but if you ever do that again, i’ll kill you.” you were only half serious but your face said it all.

michael chuckled. “okay, mama.”

Jermajesty found out what you did for work accidentally. Using the spare key you gave him for emergencies, he decided to drop by after you didn't answer the phone. He was just being his usual caring and nosy self.

Once he entered, he first noticed the emptiness. The living room didn't look out of the ordinary—clean and organized. His eyebrow lifted once a small noise reached his ear. Barely noticeable. But it was there.

He held his breath to hear better, and there it was. A rhythmic squelch. Something sounded wet. Maybe a sink? A bathtub? The thought of you accidentally leaving something running crossed his mind, but he knew you were home from your car in the driveway.

What if you were in trouble? Drowning or something?

He walked farther into the living room, still hearing the squelching, but something else accompanied the sound. A small high-pitched…whimper? A moan?

His eyebrows fell deep into a furrow. He didn't think you had a man…right? The closer he got to the living room, the louder the explicit sounds became. Should he have turned his ass around? Probably, but curiosity killed the cat.

A pink glow spilled through a cracked door down the hall. Not your bedroom and not a bathroom. A room he actually never been in. The floors creaked beneath his shoes, but you were so loud, you didn't even notice.

Now standing right in front of the cracked door, he looked around as if someone was watching him. He's not being weird, right? Just checking on his best friend.

Leaning a bit closer, he peeked inside, and the sight made his eyes widen. There you sat in your pink gaming chair, legs spread in front of your computer that mirrored you, fucking yourself with a large realistic dildo.

"F-fuck." You whimpered, biting your bottom lip, staring at the influx of comments in the chat box. All of a sudden, his breath was caught in his throat. His eyes drifted towards the computer screen and saw the large live label in the corner.

Squinting a bit, he finally saw the infamous sign. OnlyFans.

His best friend…does OnlyFans. The lump in his throat felt hard to swallow, along with the seeping heat inside of his pants. He really should be making his way out right now, but damn…you looked good.

He ripped his eyes away from you and managed to back away quietly. The initial awkwardness melted the farther he walked to the door, now replaced with something a bit more playful. Teasing.

A few moments passed, and you were done and cleaned up. A bit exhausted from the orgasms you managed to coax out of yourself. Turning off the light, you loosely tied your robe around your bare body.

Tiredly rubbing your eye, you padded to the kitchen, but not before your heart dropped to your ass. There on your couch was Jermajesty with a sly smirk on his face.

"Shit! You scared me." Suddenly very aware of your attire, you tightened your robe a bit more.

"So what you had going on in there?" He asked with a smirk.

₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ

Ever since then, he got used to it. He asked about the next video idea, new lingerie, and even your new toys. Instead of it being weird, it felt as if it only bonded you closer.

A bit too close at times.

During a night of a quick smoke session, he confessed his attraction to you. And who were you to lie, so you admitted you found him just as attractive. Sharing a nasty, weed-filled kiss, the lines between you both began to blur.

Getting a bit too touchy in private, drunken makeouts, and occasional hookups—but never establishing anything serious.

And honestly, you both were perfectly fine with that.

₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ

The pink silk robe slightly tickled Jermajesty's knee as you walked past him in a hurry. "Damn girl, what you rushing for?" He asked. You turned to look at him, fiddling with the tripod in your hand.

His breath hitched as your robe fell open slightly, revealing your body adorned in hot pink lace lingerie. "I gotta go live in like 20 minutes, and this shit is jammed."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he forcefully directed his attention to the tripod. He walked closer. "Let me see it." His fingers brushed against yours as he grabbed it.

You stood with your hands on your hips, watching as he messed with the contraption. Twisting at the long leg of the stand, it clicked as it extended. "Well damn, thanks Maj." You said, grabbing the now-extended tripod.

Jermajesty watched your hips sway as you walked down the hall to your pink room. With a suck of his bottom lip, he trailed behind you, and you didn't notice him until you got inside the room.

"Boy, what are you doing in here?" You asked him with a giggle as you set everything up—adjusting the tripod, arranging your toys, and placing a towel on the floor for a quick clean up.

"Maybe I want a front row seat." He shrugged with a sly smirk.

₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ

Jermajesty had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he watched your legs quiver from your final orgasm. Juices rolling down your ass, creating a puddle on your rolling chair. It was so much it went as far as dripping onto the towel you placed underneath.

He deserved an award for the self-control he had watching you suck and fuck on a dildo as if it were real. Honestly, he thought you would feel awkward with him watching you, but you were a pro.

Seducing the camera with your eyes, talking nasty, showing off your body. Shit, he was quite seduced as well. The evidence was obvious with his hard-on pressing against his sweatpants.

"Bye, sweethearts!" You smiled, turning off the live. You flopped back in your chair with an exhausted sigh. "Damn, my arm hurts." You complained, throwing your wet dildo to the side.

Your breasts spilled over the cups of your bra from tugging it down mid-session. You were bare from the waist down, and the smell of your arousal filled the room.

Jermajesty was about to lose his mind.

"Well, I'm glad I wasn't in the splash zone." He said, sitting quite a ways from the towel.

"Ugh, I don't feel like cleaning up either."

"Shit, let me help then."

₊˚ ⋅ ۶ৎ

You absolutely thought by "help," he meant wipe and organize things to its original state. You didn't know he meant cleaning you up himself.

Your eyes were stuck to the back of your head as Jermajesty's tongue swirled around your folds. "F-fuck!" You cried out, thighs shaking beside his head. The plush circle bed felt soft against your back as you writhed around.

"Stop moving." He muttered before sucking your clit into his mouth. It was pretty damn difficult with him eating you like his last meal. His warm tongue firmly licked between your folds. His fingers felt warm against your thighs, keeping you settled on his mouth.

Pulling back for a small second, he spat on your clit before rubbing it in with his thumb. "You like me eatin' this pussy, mama?" He asked, laying soft kisses along your thigh.

All you could do was nod your head, too caught up in the feel of his lips and fingers on you. "Should've had me digging this shit out." He said before switching to a gentle suck on your inner thighs.

Your eyes rolled back as your stomach tightened. Your hips bucked into the air, searching for the warmth of his mouth. "Need me to eat that pussy, baby?" He teased, making you nod.

"Please, Maj, please." You whined. With a slow, teasing lick on your swollen clit, he finally sucked it back into his mouth. You cried out, lacing your fingers in his hair before tugging.

Jermajesty groaned into your pussy, sending vibrations up your spine. "I-i'm gonna cum." You whined. Hearing those words, Jermajesty caught a second wind, tongue flicking faster against you while his hands wrapped around your hips. He buried his face farther into your core, the tip of his tongue trailing to your entrance while his thumb rubbed tight circles on your clit.

With a long shake, you came, and he ate you right through it. Your body buzzed and jerked as Jermajesty's tongue swirled around, lapping at your entrance to collect your cum. As you slowly came down from your high, you pressed your thighs against his ears in an attempt to close your legs. "Sorry, mama. You taste too good." He said with your juices dripping down his chin.

Placing your legs on his shoulders, he wrapped his arms around your hips before standing. A gasp left your lips as your lower half lifted, still firmly connected to his mouth. You were practically folded in half as Jermajesty suckled on your clit. His head moved side to side, almost in an animalistic manner.

"P-please!" You cried, head tossing and turning against your sheets. You had nowhere to go.

"Stop movin' baby." He mumbled, going right back in. You didn't even have time to warn him of your next orgasm, hands gripping your sheets with all the strength you had.

A whimper spilled from your lips, cumming so hard your hearing went out for a second. His tongue lapped at your clit, waiting till you relaxed from the exhausting orgasm. You panted rapidly as he lowered your hips onto the bed, and you took a sigh of relief when he removed his lips from you.

"Now turn around and let me eat it from the back."

"Hell no."

michael’s eyes glanced up as you walked out of the bathroom before they flicked back down to fix his cuff— before abruptly shooting back up again. his gaze frozen on the dangerously low cut back and the way your breasts were practically spilling out the top of your dress.

his brows then furrowed, the finality of his decision sharp in his chest as his next words came out in a breathless huff.

“absolutely not.”

you looked at him in the mirror as you slipped in your earrings, slightly bent forward and for fucks sake he could see the top of your thong peeking above the low cut fabric. one that he had bought you, a silver m sewn into it, glinting at him almost tauntingly.

“what?” you asked innocently, though your coy smile gave you away.

“you’re not wearing that.”

you looked down at the dress, how it hugged you perfectly. “yes i am?”

“that’s not what i picked out for you,” michael said almost sourly as he walked to the closet, finding the clothes he had had specially made for you still sitting untouched on the hanger.

“i didn’t wanna wear that.”

“baby, you cannot—“ he laughed, though he wasn’t amused as he looked you over again.

you looked fucking incredible. perhaps he’d have you slip on that remarkably revealing get up later tonight when he had you spread out in the sheets.

but to an award show? fuck no.

“michael, i’m not changing.” you looked annoyed at him. maybe even a little mad. he had a habit of being controlling. he hated, more so loathed, when you told him no.

he didn’t pay your opinion any heed, slipping the dress he had made for you off the hanger and then he threw it at you.

“change.”

the fabric hit you square in the face and messed up your hair and fresh eyeliner.

you balked at him, eyes wide.

your words were sharp as you left the dress in a pile of expensive silk on the floor. “who do you think you are?”

michael simply raised both brows at you, hands on his hips and not budging.

you changed.

the dress was beautiful but not what you wanted. spending the whole night slapping his hand away and smiling tightly at the cameras that flashed. his own grin sharp and knowing. pleased, because he got his way.

he always did.

michael jackson masterlist

a/n: the way he bought that thong to be completely self serving as he hits it from the back with your underwear pulled to the side>>> like yes he does wanna see his initial glinting at him as he bends you over

you and your husband sat in bed together, reading silently as a way to wind down before calling it a night and heading to sleep

“thoughts about tomorrow” you said, licking your thumb and turning the page of the book you were reading

you and michael had five, yes five, kids together, Prince, Paris, Blanket, Lyric and Quincy with that being said all of the other kids had started school and been in school for a while but tomorrow would be the first day of school for your youngest son …Quincy

Michael signed and put his book down “can i be honest” he said softly, you looked at him and nodded “i’m not ready for him to start school”

you couldn’t help but smile “mike…” “i’m serious,” he said, his voice softening as he leaned his head against your shoulder

“they’re all growing up too fast Prince is in school, Paris is in school, Blanket is in school, Lyric is in school… and now Quincy?”

“i know” you closed your own book and rested it in your lap “i’m not ready either…but think about it this way,” you continued, gently brushing a curl away from his forehead “once quincy starts school, we’ll have a little more time to ourselves”

he thought about it for a second

“just us?”

“just us”

a small smile appeared on his face “yeah… you’re right”

you leaned over and kissed his forehead

Michael was quiet for a few seconds before looking at you again

“can we make another?”

“boy bye”

the next day early that morning the family did the morning routine but this time Michael took the older kid to school while you took Quincy to his pre school since Michael claimed he couldn’t handle it

so, naturally, you ended up taking Quincy yourself thus it was just you and your baby

“how do feel about going to the big school quincy” you looked back at your son in the rearview mirror “i dunno” he said with a shrug

“are you excited? ..are you nervous? ..are you scared?” “hmm scared” “oh why are you scared”

“cause i’m gonna be by myself and you and daddy won’t be with me” the little boy said staring out the window

“aw Quincy, you know mommy and daddy are gonna take turns picking you up and dropping you off every day” “but i wanna be with you and daddy all the time”

you looked in the rearview mirror again and sighed “y’know i sometimes i don’t like leaving you and daddy either, because i know you two get lonely without me and i get lonely”

Quincy finally looked up “you get lonely?”

you laughed quietly “yeah, sometimes” “daddy gets lonely too?” “oh, definitely”

“so you’re gonna miss me?” “every single day.” “even when i’m at school?” “especially when you’re at school.”

Quincy smiled, finally looking a little less nervous

“okay”

you smiled to yourself as you drove “that’s my baby”

a few hours later, the school day was finally over

michael pulled up to the preschool a little earlier than necessary, mostly because he’d been watching the clock all afternoon. the second he spotted the little students coming out with their teachers, he sat up a little straighter

then he saw Quincy

his little backpack was hanging off one shoulder, and he looked around until his eyes landed on Michael

“daddy!”

Michael immediately smiled and opened his arms, Quincy ran straight toward him, dropping his backpack halfway there. michael caught him and lifted him into his arms, holding him close

he kissed the side of his head “how was your first day at school”

Quincy was quiet for a moment, then he wrapped his arms tighter around Michael’s neck

“i was lonely ” Michael’s smile softened “you were?”

Quincy nodded against his shoulder “i missed you”

Michael rubbed his back gently “i missed you too” “and i missed mommy” “i know, mommy missed you too.”

Quincy pulled back just enough to look at him “she did?” “of course she did” Michael smiled “she’s been waiting by the door all day wondering when her baby was coming home”

Quincy’s little frown disappeared “i wanted you and mommy to pick me up” “well, you’ve got daddy right now” Michael adjusted him comfortably against his hip “and we’re gonna go home and see mommy”

“okay” Michael picked up quincy’s backpack with his free hand “come on, let’s go home to mommy”

Quincy rested his head against his father’s shoulder “daddy?” “yeah?”

“i don’t wanna go tomorrow” Michael paused, trying not to laugh “well…”

he looked down at his son “we’ll talk about that when we get home”

Quincy sighed dramatically, and Michael couldn’t help but smile as they walked toward the car

tags 🏷️ @unseenleylinesecret @vict-oryy @hip-hop-star-4 @blkkbratt @pinkjollyrancher54 @dollthoughtz @commaanders @anglfac @doleuia @missharper33 @sighrns @jaafarsbaby @enzo6ekiiii @nvhdesire @niyahctrl @mikaylajacksonnn @callmelyriic @sintizc @whyxo @loluaintvalentine @heartstofiiveunknownn @sayyoulovemeziya @syrndollie @faiology @soleantoinette @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @angelfacediary @mikedotorg @mikesfaveater @kissmyglxck @sqrixm

husband𑁤michael : who met you at a grammy afterparty, and he couldn't keep his eyes off your chest. not in a creepy, lecherous way, but with a kind of awe, like a pilgrim who'd finally reached the holy land. you were wearing a deep crimson gown with a neckline that plunged daringly, and your full, natural breasts were a stunning, breathtaking sight. he spent the whole night trying to have a conversation with your cleavage.

husband𑁤michael : who, after you finally got him to look at your face, confessed with a blush that he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. he was shy, stammering, a far cry from the king of pop on stage. he asked, in a near whisper, if he could… well, if he could touch them. you laughed, took his hand, and placed it right over your heart. the feel of your warm, soft skin under his palm, the weight of you in his hand, it was his undoing.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to buy you clothes, but only one specific kind. he'll spend hours in the most expensive boutiques, not looking at elegant gowns or designer suits, but at the most revealing, most daring tops and dresses. "try this one on," he'll say, holding up a silk camisole with lace trim that offers very little support and even less coverage. he loves the way you look in them, the way the fabric drapes and clings to your curves, the way it makes you look both elegant and scandalous at the same time.

husband𑁤michael : who gets a visceral thrill when he sees other men looking at you. you'll be at a restaurant, and you'll lean over to grab something from your purse, and the deep v-neck of your dress will gape open, giving the table next to you an eyeful. he'll watch them, their jaws practically on the floor, and he'll have to fight the urge to puff out his chest like a proud peacock. because he knows. he knows that while they can look, they can't touch. they can look, but he gets to take you home.

husband𑁤michael : who has a specific ritual when you get ready to go out. he'll sit on the bed and watch you get dressed, his gaze dark and intense. you'll put on your bra, a lacy, flimsy thing that barely contains you, and then you'll start on the outfit. a low-cut blouse, a tight-fitting dress. he'll wait until you're fully dressed, and then he'll get up, walk over to you, and very deliberately reach down and cup your breasts, lifting them, adjusting them, making sure they're displayed to their best advantage. "perfect," he'll murmur, giving them a gentle squeeze. "jus’ perfect."

husband𑁤michael : who can't keep his hands to himself. at home, he's constantly touching them. you'll be washing dishes, and he'll come up behind you, sliding his arms around your waist, his hands inevitably finding their way up to your chest, kneading them like a contented cat. you'll be watching a movie on the couch, and he'll rest his head on your lap, one hand idly toying with the plump swell of your breast, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt, back and forth, back and forth, until you're squirming.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to fuck your tits. it's one of his favorite things. he loves the feel of your soft, warm skin wrapped around him, the sight of your huge breasts enveloping him, the way your nipples pebble as he strokes himself between them. he'll hold them together, his hands squeezing, massaging, as he thrusts, his breathing growing ragged. and when he comes, he'll paint your chest with his release, a pearly white mess that he'll lovingly rub into your skin, marking you as his.

husband𑁤michael : who is obsessed with your nipples. he loves the size, the color, the way they get hard at the slightest touch. he'll spend hours just playing with them, pinching, rolling, tugging, until you're arching your back and begging for more. he loves to lick them, to suck them, to feel them tighten in his mouth. sometimes, when he's feeling particularly possessive, he'll use ice, tracing the sensitive skin around your nipple with the cold cube, watching it pucker into a tight, hard peak, then warming it with his hot mouth, a shocking, delicious contrast of sensations.

husband𑁤michael : who has a particular weakness for you in a simple, white t-shirt with no bra. the way the thin, wet fabric clings to your breasts after you've had a shower, the dark shadow of your areolas clearly visible through the cotton, it's a sight that makes his mouth go dry and his cock harden instantly. it's the paradox of it that gets him: the innocence of the white shirt combined with the raw, primal sexuality of what's underneath.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to watch you get undressed. he'll lie back on the pillows, propped up on his elbows, and just watch. he loves the slow reveal, the way your breasts are finally freed from the constraints of your bra, the way they bounce slightly with the movement, the way they settle into their natural, heavy shape. it's like a private show, a performance just for him, and he's always the most attentive, appreciative audience member.

husband𑁤michael : who, when he's on tour, will call you late at night, his voice a low, husky whisper. "what’re you wearin’, baby?" he'll ask. and you'll know exactly what he wants to hear. "a lil’ silk nightgown," you'll say. "n’ nothin’ else." he'll be quiet for a moment, and you can hear his breathing change. "touch ‘em f’me," he'll command softly. "touch your breasts. pretend 's my hands." and you will, describing every sensation to him, your fingers pinching and pulling, until you can hear him come on the other end of the line, a low, guttural groan that makes you ache for him.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to fall asleep with his head pillowed on your chest. it's the ultimate comfort for him, the ultimate security. the soft, warm weight of your breast against his cheek, the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart beneath his ear, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. it's his anchor in the storm of his life, a simple, perfect, peaceful moment where he is not a performer, not a celebrity. he is just a man, with his head on his wife's chest, and everything is right with the world.

husband𑁤michael : who, during arguments, will get distracted. you'll be in the middle of a heated discussion about finances or a scheduling conflict, and you'll gesture emphatically, and he'll just… stop. he'll watch the way your breasts move under your shirt, the way the fabric pulls taut across your chest, and all the anger will just drain out of him, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated lust. "what?" you'll snap, noticing his vacant expression. he'll just shake his head, a slow, guilty smile spreading across his face. "nothin’," he'll say. "jus’… forgot what we were fightin’ about."

husband𑁤michael : who loves it when you wear his shirts. one of his crisp, white button-downs, worn with nothing underneath. the fabric is too big for you, and it hangs off one shoulder, gaping at the front to give him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. he'll unbutton it himself, slowly, one button at a time, kissing the skin he exposes. he'll leave it on you, open, as he makes love to you, the soft cotton a stark, innocent contrast to the raw, passionate act.

husband𑁤michael : who has a photo album hidden in his private study, and it's full of pictures of your breasts. close-ups, artistic shots taken in black and white, candid photos of you sunbathing topless, polaroids from your more adventurous nights. he'll look at it when he's feeling stressed or lonely, a private gallery of the one part of you he can never get enough of. it's his secret, guilty pleasure, a tangible reminder of the most beautiful, most perfect, most beloved part of his world.

husband𑁤michael : who, in the throes of passion, will talk to them. he'll bury his face between them, muttering incoherent praises, "god, i love you... you're s’perfect... you're all mine." it's as if they're separate entities, with their own personalities, their own power over him. he'll look up at you from his position on your chest, his eyes dark with adoration, and he'll say, "they're th’ reason i breathe, baby. th’ reason i get up in th’ mornin’."

husband𑁤michael : who loves to see them in motion. he'll watch you go up the stairs in front of him, the gentle sway and bounce of your unrestrained breasts beneath your shirt, and it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. he'll watch you jog on the treadmill, or dance in the kitchen while you cook, and he'll be mesmerized, completely captivated by the simple, beautiful physics of it all.

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"Ugh, drive faster." Randy complained from the backseat.

Jaafar was focused on the road, both hands gripping the wheel. That didn't stop him from rolling his eyes. "You didn't want to drive when I offered."

"Well I would've if I knew you would've been driving slow as hell." Randy shot back.

"Should've just let me drive." Jermajesty said. He was sitting next to Randy, playing on his phone.

"Last time you drove we got pulled over." You said with a giggle.

The four of you were on the way to the beach—a much needed vacation from the hectic daily life of a track runner. Constant practices, training, gym sessions. You were tired.

After an intense meet, where you participated in multiple events—coming in first place in all—Jaafar suggested a day at the beach.

It was supposed to be just the two of you—a nice fiancée outing—before Jermajesty's nosy ass caught wind of the conversation. He wasted no time inviting himself. In the process, he ended up blabbing to Randy, and of course, he naturally included himself.

Which is how you all ended up in the car, arguing over the speed and who gets the aux.

"Can you skip this song?" Jermajesty groaned.

"Boy hush, and listen to Doja." You told him.

"Are we any closer?" Randy asked.

"Just a few more minutes." Jaafar sighed.

You wasted the rest of your time scrolling through TikTok, and coincidentally, a beach TikTok popped up. It was a trend where someone gives the other person a head start before chasing after them. Usually the person ends up getting caught, but you smirked knowing you could easily get away.

You favorited it for later, already knowing you're participating.

Just as Jaafar said a few minutes later, he pulled into a parking spot.

"Damn, this a lot of people." Jermajesty said, shutting the car door. A beach ball rested under his arm, and his blue and red striped towel was slung over his shoulder.

"Perfect for me." Randy shrugged, showing off a dimpled smile. He knows he's just here to add to his endless roster. You rolled your eyes, adjusting your cover up, and Jaafar walked towards your side to grab your hand.

All of you walked, bare toes sinking into the sand until you found an empty spot.

"Sunscreen me." You told Jaafar, spreading your arms open. Once he set everything down, he grabbed the sunscreen and rubbed it onto your back. His hands felt warm compared to the cold substance.

"My turn." He said, handing the tube to you.

Jermajesty and Jaafar watched the both of you with stank faces.

"Nigga, hurry up." Jermajesty groaned.

"When y'all running around here burnt up, I don't wanna hear nothing." You said.

Finally finishing up Jaafar, all four of you ran towards the water.

"Cold as FUCK." Jermajesty yelled, shivering once he hit the ocean.

The next few hours were filled with splashing each other, tossing the beach ball, and even sandcastles.

After a while, you finally remembered the TikTok. "Wait, get Jermajesty so he can film this TikTok for us." You told Jaafar, who had half of his body deep in the ocean.

As you walked back, you held your braids in a loose ponytail, feeling them swing droplets against your back. The ponytail holder came loose in the ocean, and you had no idea where it was.

You placed your hands on your hips waiting for the boys to get back to shore. Jaafar walked towards you, curls dripping and tan skin wet. His hand found yours, lifting your hand to kiss the diamond engagement ring.

"You look so beautiful." He said, placing kisses on your lips.

"Thank you, baby."

"What trend we doing this time?"

"I'm going to run, you count down from 3, and then chase me and see if you could catch me." You shrugged with a small smile on your face.

"That's it? Oh, that's easy."

Clearly he didn't recall what you did for a living.

Jaafar called over Jermajesty, and he walked over. After explaining the trend, you and Jaafar stood next to each other while Jermajesty adjusted the camera.

"Ready?" He asked, and you nodded. He did a countdown of three towards the camera, and you could slightly hear the music over the extra background noise. You immediately took off running, crossing half the beach in no time.

"Ah shit." Jaafar mumbled, noticing the distance as he began chasing you. Only using half of your speed, you dodged multiple families and beach balls, taking quick glances to see Jaafar way behind you. His wet curls bounced as he did his best to catch up to you. Before you knew it, Jermajesty was running right behind him, camera still focused on Jaafar chasing you.

"You're not even supposed to be here." Jaafar laughed, seeing Jermajesty run next to him.

"I wanted to join in."

Passing the lifeguard chair, you came to a slight jog, stopping fully until Jaafar and Jermajesty reached you.

"Never…again." Jaafar panted, hands on his knees as he hunched over.

"Marrying a track star seem like too much work." Jermajesty sighed, fanning himself as if the wind wasn't blowing.

You let out a laugh, watching them in amusement.

Late night had settled over the Hayvenhurst estate and rain was pounding against its windows. Inside Michael's room, a candle crackled quietly and burned into a pool of oil while Luther Vandross played quietly from a stereo in the corner of room. Michael had goosebumps up his arms from the contrast of the warm air in the room and the cool breeze flowing through the curtains. He didn't notice though, his focus hadn't left you once.

Under him, you had your legs spread around his hips and the sheets were warm and slightly damp with the evidence of what you and Michael had been up to for the past hour. He rolled his hips slow and deep like he was savoring every little movement. Every time his curious hips prodded at that little spot deep inside you, your tummy jumped hard against his and your walls fluttered around him. When he felt it, a high shaky little sound left his throat.

Soft brown eyes stayed on yours as he bit down on his bottom lip to quiet himself. Michael brushed his lips against your ear and murmured,

“Can you do it for me, baby?” He used that real soft, sweet tone he always did when he really wanted something from you. “The thing where you...squirt." he dropped his voice to a softer octave at the last word as if it was forbidden. "Please. Wanna see it again.”

Instantly, you grew embarrassed and your face went warm.

“Mikey, don’t start.” You moaned against his cheek.

A soft little sound that sounded a lot like a bratty huff left his throat. He cupped your jaw so couldn't turn away. His doe eyes got even bigger, shiny and pleading as his bottom lip pushed out in a subtle pout.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so good for you. I won’t tell anybody. It’s just us.” He kissed your lips sloppily in between sentences while his hips kept moving. "You can trust me" Another whiny, shaky moan slipped out of him when your stomach jumped again, sweat slicking between you two from the heat of his body against yours. “You’re sooo pretty when you cum like that. I love you so much....Please lemme feel it again. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You reached up and let your fingers trail slow down his abdomen, dragging your nails lightly and sending chills down his spine.

"Anything?"

His tummy clenched hard under your touch and a cracked moan left his lips. His hips stuttered like he’d lost his rhythm completely— which was nearly impossible for Michael Jackson, but that's how infatuated he was with you.

“Don’t— don’t do that,” he whimpered. “It’s too much. Baby, please—”

You already knew what touching him while talking dirty did to him. It always brought him right to the edge, he was such a desperate little lover boy.

“You get so needy when you want somethin' from me,” you murmured. “Look at you. Shakin' just from me touchin’ on you. Throbbin’ inside me like a good boy.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered and another needy whimper left him as his hips jerked without warning. You felt him throb hard inside you, pressure heavy in your belly. He looked almost frustrated about it, like his body was betraying him.

“Don’t say it like that,” he breathed, more pouty now. “You know what it does to me. M'gon cum if you keep talkin’ like that. I can’t hold it when you talk dirty to me. I never can. You’re bein’ mean, baby”

“Maybe I want you to cum for me...and in me”

Then, Michael made the mistake of looking down between your bodies. Your cream was painting the base of his dick like melted ice cream on warm brown skin. Michael fought to keep his eyes from rolling back and soft sounds slipped past his lips as he dropped his forehead against yours, hips still rolling against yours almost frantically. He was so cute when he got like this, flustered and needy.

One of his large hands slipped between your bodies and long fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he prodded gently as your insides, trying to figure out what felt best for you. He held your eye contact consistently the whole time, even as his long lashed fluttered and his eyes threatened to shut from the way you were soaking him.

The next stroke hit that tender bundle of nerves deliberately, like muscle memory. Your tummy jumped hard again and your walls pulsed rhythmically around him. The wet sound of your pussy taking him deep filled the quiet room. Michael’s doe eyes never left yours, even as needy little whimpers left him and his thighs started trembling. His arms were on either side of your head, encasing you possessively as he kept pressing wet kisses to your swollen, pouty lips.

“I know you don’t wanna,” he whispered. He sounded desperate and was almost embarrassed at how needy he sounded, but there was still soft stubbornness under it. “But it feels sooo good when you do cum on me like that. Please lemme feel it. I’ll be so good for you after. I-I promise." his hips stuttered and his voice cracked when you clenched around him like you were trying to take him deeper. "I’ll go real slow… I’ll hold you the whole time… you don’t even have t'look if you don’t wanna. Just this once mama.”

You cupped his face and squeezed gently, pushing his lips into a cute pout.

“You can’t help yourself, huh?” you asked softly, brushing your lips against his as you held his face and kept his fluttering eyes trained on you. “Just beggin' so good for me. Can't even help how needy you sound, can you? You get this look every time you want me to squirt for you. All needy and stubborn at the same time. Look how weak you get for it.”

His whole body shivered and a cracked, soft moan spilled out of him, hips still stuttering slightly and losing their rhythm. You felt another strong throb inside you and his arms were starting to shake where he held himself up. He went still for half a second like he’d heard you, then started the same precise angle again anyway.

“Stop,” he whined. “Please stop talkin’ to me like that. M'serious baby. I’m right there. I can’t— and you’re still not givin’ me what I asked for”

Like he was on a mission, he kept circling your clit gently with your slick and stroking deep against that spot, eyes locked on yours the whole time. Every time your tummy jumped against his he made another soft, desperate sound. When you pulsed around him he whimpered like it was almost too much. His rhythm started to falter and he tried to slow down, hips pulling back just a little like he needed a second. But you locked your legs around his hips and pulled him back in deep.

"Uh-uh. Don't run from me Mikey" you whispered against his lips.

Michael made a high almost scared sound involuntarily, like the pleasure was overstimulating. His forehead dropped against your collar bone before raising again. His big eyes stayed on yours, slightly teary-eyed from the intense pleasure and bottom lip still pushed out just a little.

“You’re’ close, I can feel it mama. Creamin' all over me, and it's gettin' louder. Do it for me. Please baby. I need it. It'll feel so good...I’ll be so good." His hips jerked without permission when you pressed your lips to his throat, tongue flicking against his pulse point. "I-I’ll stay real gentle, I promise. I’ll hold you the whole time. Please. I only get like this for you— and I asked so nice…”

He gently flicked his fingertips across your clit, changing the pace and forcing your legs to close tighter around his waist. He kept the same angle, continuously prodding that sensitive little spot inside you even though his arms were shaking from how overstimulated he felt. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The sensation tipped over and your back arched. A broken cry left your throat as the orgasm hit hard your stomach convulsed against his as a strong stream of wetness pulsed out of you around his dick, soaking both of you and the sheets. Your walls pulsed around him in heavy waves while you shook in his arms.

Michael’s eyes went wide when he looked down between your bodies the second he felt it start, watching the mess flood out around him. A soft shaky moan tore out of his chest and his hips stuttered hard.

“Oh my God—baby, look at you...it’s so much— I can feel it all over me—”

The feeling of you squirting around him pulled him right over the edge. His whole body tensed and his eyes rolled back hard as another higher pitched cracked moan left his throat as he started to cum inside you. It was loud enough that your hand flew up and covered his mouth so no one down the hall would hear. You did not need his brothers teasing y'all tomorrow.

He came hard, grunting and whining shakily against your palm, forehead pressed to yours. His body trembled while he spilled inside you in long pulses, throbbing continuously. The sheets were soaked. He stayed buried deep, dick still pulsing inside you through the last of it as weak spurts left him.

Even after the strongest waves faded he kept making small needy sounds against your hand, oversensitive and shaking, so soft and fucked out that every tiny flutter of your walls made him whimper again as his tummy convulsed.

"I love you so much" he mumbled against your hand, long lashes blinking away tears.

He only got like this for you, and it showed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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“You're mumblin in your sleep." He laughed again, eyes scanning over your half-asleep state as you finally blinked enough times to focus on the dark spots that littered your boyfriend's neck and collarbones. 

“Oh my god, Michael, what did I do to you?" You sat up, your fingers brushing over the hickeys that decorated his neck like a necklace.

“What? What do you mean?" he popped up, pure fear written all over his face, as he touched his own neck. 

“Wait, we can hide them; let's go to the bathroom and bring some of your foundation." You stood up, taking his hand, guiding him towards the bathroom.

Once the lights of the bathroom came on and he saw just how covered his neck was on the inside, he was absolutely freaking out. “Oh, my brothers are going to have a field day with this." He stared at his neck, watching as you brushed the foundation on top of the purplish dark spots that seemed to not do much of anything at all.

“Okay, I think the best move is wearing a sweater." You attempted to pat the foundation down like it was doing something to cover the damage that was already done.

That's how he ended up downstairs of Hayvenhurst; the collar under his sweater popped up in an attempt to cover what the foundation refused to fight the battle of explaining what the hell happened to his neck by himself because you refused to be there for the explanation.

First it was his brothers.

"Mike, what's goin on here?" Marlon spoke, drawing a circle in the air around his neck before leaning closer to take a better look.

“Man, stop, leave me alone." He shoved Marlon away, pulling his collar closer to his neck.

“She got you good, didn't she?” Tito spoke up, wiping some of the makeup off.

“You guys need to stop."

“Look at you finally putting on your big boy pants." Jackie patted him on the back, like he was proud of his brother for growing up.

Then it was Joseph.

“Michael, c'mere, boy." Joe squinted in attempts to get a better look at his neck.

“What happened to your neck?" He pointed a large finger at him.

“I "fell"—that was a stupid lie, but it was the first thing he could think of.

“Fell on your neck like that?” The suspicion quickly rose in his voice.

"Uh, yeah!” 

The silence felt like it would never be filled as Joe stared, letting his eyes flicker between his neck and his face.

"Gone on, boy," he laughed to himself, shaking his head as he watched Michael walk off towards the bathroom.

Michael couldn't help but look at his neck, moving his collar to the side, makeup smudging slightly as he ran his fingers along the marks, his brain automatically landing on the night before where you two were sitting on his bed, his back pressed against the headboard while you sat on top of him. Your legs were on either side of him as you let your hips grind against him, while your lips were pressed to his neck, creating a suction, your tongue swirling around the tender spot. 

"Mhm," he hummed, drunk off the feeling of your wet core against the fabric of his underwear.

“Is this good, Mikey?" you cooed, your lips ghosting against his neck as you let your hips grind against him, a small whimper falling from your own lips, the fabric of your panties completely soaked with your essence. 

“Yeah, it's good... please don't stop." A groan ripped through his throat, his head falling back against the headboard, his hand flinging to cover his mouth while his other hand sat digging into the fat of your hips because he wasn't sure what else to do.

“I'm not gonna stop, not until you cum," you whispered, before pressing your lips to his collarbone once again, sucking at another spot you hadn't yet gotten to. 

“So close, please," he begged, between the feeling of your tongue swirling around that sweet spot you'd been sucking at and the constant friction of you rubbing against the dick that constantly leaked for you. 

“Go ahead, baby, I'll take care of you," you whined, your hips twitching, the wetness of your panties sticking to you, mixing with Michael's own pre-cum.

“Mhm… Oh, I-I think I'm gonna—” He thrust himself up against you, making you whine, his own moans getting caught in his throat, a strained whimper tumbling from his mouth continuously.

“You take such good care of me...thank you, baby," he babbled, high still washing over him as you continued to rub yourself against him, your own hitting you like a truck as you moaned out, maybe a little too loud, but you just hoped no one heard it.

Your brain was too hazy to even think about the dark-colored marks you were leaving all over his neck, and with only the dim moonlight veiling over the room, just barely giving enough light to see, it wasn't like you noticed that you'd marked him up all over.

“You okay?” You hummed, laughing, watching his fucked-out face, brows furrowed, head resting against the headboard as he let out a satisfied sigh.

"Mhm."

“Okay, well, let's clean up. " You attempted to stand up only to be stopped by Michael's hands on your hips pulling you back onto him.

“Let's stay like this for a little longer."

“Mm, only five minutes."

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You said you'd only go for a bit, but then someone handed you a drink that tasted like juice, so you had another, then another. Somewhere around drink number four, you announced to Jermajesty that you were "basically immune to alcohol."

Ten minutes later, you were sitting on the kitchen floor, eating some crackers you'd found.

That's when Jermajesty decided you needed to go home.

Getting out of the party was easy, but getting home? Not so much. Thank God the party was down the block, because you spent the entire walk insisting you weren't drunk while tripping over your own feet.

At some point, Jermajesty got tired of making sure you didn't end up with a scraped knee, so he carried you on his back.

By the time you reached the house, you were convinced you were an expert at sneaking around. Unfortunately, your expertise did not include opening doors.

You stood in front of the front door for nearly a full minute, just staring at the handle.

“What's wrong?”

“It's locked.”

Jermajesty tried it, and the door opened immediately.

“Next time, use your hand, not your telepathic powers.”

You finally made it to your bedroom, and when you opened the door, you froze at the sight of Jaafar sitting in your desk chair.

You slowly closed the door.

“Oh, we're fucked,” Jermajesty whispered behind you. “Don't say that,” you whispered back. “Why?” he asked, still whispering. “Because then it'll be true, dumbass.”

Jaafar looked at you, then at Jermajesty, and finally at the sunglasses you had somehow ended up wearing.

“Where were you?” Jaafar raised an eyebrow. “His fault.” You immediately pointed at your twin brother, making his jaw drop.

“My fault?!” Jermajesty looked betrayed. “You're the one who wanted to go!” you said. “You were the one who said we should sneak out!” He pointed at you. “You agreed!”

“You threatened to tell Mom I stole your hoodie!” Jermajesty crossed his arms. “You did steal my hoodie!” You crossed your arms again. “You left it on my bed! And who gets the exact same hoodie as me and expects me not to grab it?!”

He flicked your forehead. “Because my asshole brother won't let me borrow it!”

“You're twins!” Jaafar snapped, making both of you go silent. “You share DNA, you have shared a room, you share clothes—or try to. Why the fuck does every single conversation between you two turn into an argument?” Jaafar looked exhausted.

You considered what he said for exactly two seconds before you shrugged.

“It's his fault.” You pointed at Jermajesty once again.

“You're unbelievable.” Jermajesty stared at you.

“You're annoying.”

“You're drunk.”

“You're ugly.”

“You've been wearing my sunglasses for three hours.”

“I thought these were mine.” You looked down at them.

“They are mine.”

You immediately took them off and threw them at him. He caught them.

“You're both grounded.”

“What?! You can't ground us,” Jermajesty said.

Your eyes started watering, and both of your brothers started to panic. Jaafar's expression dropped, and Jermajesty's eyes went wide.

“Oh, shit.” Jermajesty immediately panicked. “Don't cry. Don't cry, don't cry—” Jaafar walked over and hugged you. “I’m not crying,” you mumbled, wiping your eyes. “You are literally crying.” Jermajesty said before walking into your bathroom and coming back with some makeup remover wipes.

“I’m tired!”

“You're drunk.”

“I’m tired!” You whimpered. “Fine. You're not grounded.” Jaafar sighed, kissing your forehead.“Really?” Your face immediately brightened. “Really.”

You sniffled, finally relaxing against him as he rubbed your back. Jermajesty stood in front of you, gently wiping under your eyes with the makeup remover wipe he'd grabbed.

“Jesus Christ, you're a mess,” he muttered. “I'm pretty.” You frowned at him. “You look like evil Bucky Barnes.” He laughed. “I don't think calling your twin sister hot is okay, your majesty.”

He kept cleaning your face, accidentally poking you in the eye because you just wouldn't stay still, despite Jaafar having his arms around you, making sure you didn't become a safety hazard for any of them.

“Ow.” You whined. “Stay still.” Jaafar held your head. “You're annoying.” You looked at Jermajesty. “And you're drunk.” He kissed your cheek after he was done removing your makeup. “I’m tired,” you insisted, your voice getting quieter as you leaned against Jaafar.

Jaafar looked down at you, then at Jermajesty.

“She's going to hate us tomorrow.” Jaafar laughed softly. “Definitely.” Jermajesty nodded as he grabbed a hoodie and some sweatpants for you. “I can hear you.” You yawned. “Change and go to sleep.” Jaafar let go of you.

You groaned and made your way to the bathroom.

“She’s gonna be a nightmare in the morning.” Jermajesty glanced at Jaafar. “She already is.” Jaafar sighed.

Five minutes later, you walked out of the bathroom, sniffing your hoodie.

“So that's my hoodie.” Jermajesty stared at you for a second before realizing what you'd done. “You put on my hoodie?”

“It smells like you.” You sniffed the sleeve again, your face scrunching up. “Because it's mine?” he said in an obvious tone. “It smells bad.” You hiccuped. “You literally stole it.” He blinked.

You looked down at the hoodie.

“Can I keep it?”

Jermajesty sighed, knowing he wasn't going to win this one, much less now.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

“Woo.” Your face immediately brightened.

“Now go to sleep before you start crying about something else.” Jaafar shook his head, trying not to laugh. “I'm not crying.” You climbed into bed, pulling the hoodie sleeves over your hands. “You were crying over a hoodie thirty seconds ago.” Jaafar threw your covers over you.

“It smelled like a man.”

“Goodnight, Happy Meal.”

“Goodnight, asshole. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You smiled sleepily and pulled the blanket over your head.

taglist: @judesboots @youluvyanni @winterosco @escapefromrealitylol @ruesredjacket @4ppl3h34d @tinydreamerpillar @delictezz @heartsforamari19 @sugarrushbell @bangchanunofficial @swavydadon @nayykura @plan3tch1ld @unseenleylinesecret @niyahctrl @animegamerfox @raefoxiegirl @applehead-luvr @a-motherfcking-fish @michaelsgirlie @sebbysbaby @helalokithor @poetsprey @60fspp @kryka83 @ilov3tosle3p @bladeeisjesus @umibug @erynnnn @lauren7050 @onegoodperson @trvpstarxvl @alexablanc @superlegend216 @gravenoirr @heyitsm4di @heartstofiiveunknownn @soimightlikeoldmen69 @cherrishkissed @kisscoqueen @aristoleyaferrarii @michaeljacksonlover25 @solelypyt @no1sdolli3 @blameditontheboogie @spiderhook @jaafarl

Heaux tales(series): One promiscuous college girl. Five Jackson brothers. One challenge that became messier than she expected.

Woman at work(series): collection of smut scenarios involving women with careers and your favorite men!

Wet dreamz: Michael is the quietest boy on campus, and you need someone discreet. Why? Because you’ve decided he’s the one you want to lose your virginity to. (Inspired by the Jcole song)

Da baddest bitch: You’re a loud mouthed flirty influencer and Michael is awkward superstar who doesn’t know how to handle you. It’s your natural born right to give him a hard time and he loves it! (Reader based off Trina/Megan Thee stallion, modern AU)

On the way: You and Jackie have one nasty drunk night that neither of you planned on forgetting. (Inspired by Jhene Aiko song)

Step on me: Getting involved with Jaafar wasn’t anything short of amazing. Until one day, you realized you couldn’t remember what life looked like without him. (Inspired by The Cardigans song)

Until dawn: You and Michael are invited by your friend group to the cabin you all stayed at years ago. As the night unfolds, the two of you do your best to stay close and, most importantly, stay alive. (inspired by the video game)

Detroit become human: In a world where androids are some of the most hated beings, you saved one in the nick of time. Michael was his name, and for some reason, he became quite oddly attached to you. (inspired by the video game)

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you and Michael met in 1992 at a award ceremony, you were new to the “video vixen” industry but you were quite popular for your uniqueness

that night you presented three awards and Michael watched front row every time you did, that whole night he’d hoped that you’d present a award to him or at least say his name in nominations just so he could hear you say his name and acknowledge him

but you didn’t

after the ceremony Michael tried his absolute best to find you backstage, but he got word that you left as soon as you walked off stage, but he did get your number

the next morning, your house phone rang while you were in the middle of your morning yoga routine

you glanced over at the clock and back at the phone “who in the hell is calling me this early?”

you picked up the receiver “hello?” “hello… is this y/n?” “yes, this is she can i ask who i’m talking to?”

a soft chuckle came through the receiver “it’s mike” you placed a hand on your hip “i’m sorry, but i don’t know a mike”

“michael,” he corrected gently “michael jackson” you scrunched your eyebrows together “prove it.”

there was a brief silence

“and how exactly would i prove that?” “i don’t know” he laughed quietly “you want me to sing to you this early in the morning?”

“i just wanna make sure you’re not some man playing on my phone”

he laughed again and then hummed a few notes making your eyebrows immediately lift

it really was him

you slowly sat onto the couch, absentmindedly nibbling at the edge of your acrylic nail “oh… you didn’t have to do all that” “you told me to prove it” “well, i wasn’t expecting you to call me”

“i wanted to— no i had to call you”

“why?”

his voice softened

“because you had me absolutely infatuated last night, i was in a trance because of you”

your eyes widened “infatuated?”

“sorry,” he said with a quiet laugh. “is that too much?” you laughed softly “well…” he hesitated “i think your really beautiful”

“thank you michael”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you and Michael went on casual friendly outings, nothing serious? coffee here, dinner there, long phone calls that stretched into the early hours of the morning, quick visits that turned into entire afternoons together but that only lasted a month, he asked you to be his girlfriend on the first “date”

the two of you were sitting together after quite candle lit dinner when he suddenly became unusually quiet

he cleared his throat and placed his hands on top of yours, he smiled nervously

“can i ask you something?” “sure”

“y/n… will you be my girlfriend?”

“your girlfriend?” you repeated, he nodded “i don’t know Michael, i heard you got multiple girlfriends” you replied tilting your head

his expression immediately changed “no, i don’t..don’t believe everything the press says,” he said, shaking his head “i’m completely single”

he paused and his voice became softer “but… i’d like you to change that”

you smiled at him “okay” his eyes widened slightly “okay?”

“yes, Michael i’ll love to be your girlfriend”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ you and Michael never really confirmed nor denied the dating rumors but it was very obvious, whenever cameras were around you wouldn’t be too far behind him and the two of you were seen in public together hand and hand

and whenever someone asked either of you about the relationship? you’d simply smile

“so y/n.. what’s the situation between you and mr Michael jackson” wendy asked “that’s my man” you said with a shrug and a cheeky smile

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Michael’s favorite thing to do was gift you things because he’d knew you’d wear it and put it to good use

he’d give you a necklace and see you wearing it the very next day, a pair of shoes would mysteriously become your favorite pair and a bracelet he’d bought you would practically never leave your wrist

you scrambled through your jewelry drawer with tears swelling in your eyes

“y/n baby what’s wrong, what are you looking for” michael said standing behind you, wrapping a arm around you waist

you bursted into tears and started to cry “the bvlgari bracelet you gave me! i have the matching ring but i can’t find the bracelet and i wanna wear it today!” you said threw your tears

“i gave that to you a long time ago” “i don’t care! i wanna wear it now!” you continued to cry

he started to rub your back in small slow circles “it’s fine i’ll just buy you another one” “but that one had memories!”

˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ Michael really liked that you took your maintenance very seriously, yes it was a important part of your job but he really liked how you would put two days aside every month just to tend to your appearance, he also liked whenever you brought him along

“okay Michael…hear me out” he looked up from his newspaper and at you “i bring you to my wax appointment and we get our eyebrows waxed together”

he put a hand over his eyebrow “what’s wrong with my eyebrows” “there’s nothing wrong with your eyebrows baby” you slid onto his lap and took a close look “but you are getting a unibrow”

“Y/N!” “IM PLAYING!”

he shook his head “nobody is touching my eyebrows”

“baby come on” “no” “Michael” “no” “baby” “absolutely not”

“you’re scared” he looked at you “i am not scared” “then come with me”

he narrowed his eyes “…i don’t like where this conversation is going”

you laughed, resting your head against his shoulder “just come with me…i’ll give you some sugar after”

tags 🏷️ @unseenleylinesecret @vict-oryy @hip-hop-star-4 @blkkbratt @pinkjollyrancher54 @dollthoughtz @commaanders @anglfac @doleuia @missharper33 @sighrns @jaafarsbaby @enzo6ekiiii @nvhdesire @niyahctrl @mikaylajacksonnn @callmelyriic @sintizc @whyxo @loluaintvalentine @heartstofiiveunknownn @sayyoulovemeziya @syrndollie @faiology @soleantoinette @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @angelfacediary @mikedotorg @mikesfaveater @kissmyglxck @sqrixm

"Please, mommy!" The little girl tugged at your house shorts, tears brewing in her eyes. You would've thought you told her she could never get candy again the way she's acting.

Instead of responding for the hundredth time, you gently grabbed your daughter's wrist, guiding her to the Dora dinner plate on the table. "What's that?" You asked, placing your hands on your hips.

"Dora." She crossed her arms with a pout on her face. You smacked your teeth. "The food."

"Um…broccoli." She mumbled.

"Exactly, so you don't need a cookie."

"But I ate my rice and chicken." Her whiny voice had been in your ear for the past twenty minutes.

"But the plate isn't clean. No clean plate, no cookies. Period."

With a stomp of her tiny sock on the hardwood floor, she walked off. You were too exhausted to even deal with her in that moment. To ease your nerves, you sat on your grey armchair, sipping on a can of Sprite.

The thriller novel you have yet to finish was stationed in your hand. Getting to a tense part, the sounds of footsteps and giggles filled the room. Glancing up, you saw your daughter dragging Randy towards the kitchen.

A tell-all smile was on her face, and you already pieced together what's going on. With a groan and toss of your head against the chair, you set your things to the side.

Once you made it to the kitchen, you wanted to pull your hair out. Crumbs laid on the corners of your child's mouth as she sat on the counter swinging her legs. Randy stood next to her, mid-chew of a cookie, before he froze noticing your presence. The plan to greet you dispersed once he saw your clenched brows, crossed arms, and frown on your lips.

"I told her no, Randy." You huffed. The two of them looked at each other before looking back at you.

"But she ate her chicken and rice." He defended.

The irritation coursed through your veins as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "And she didn't eat her broccoli, so as I said…I said no."

Your daughter watched curiously, picking up the nervous look on her dad's face. At that point, you're just ready to go to bed. "You know what…don't worry about it."

Randy watched you walk off and let out a sigh. He can never win in this house.

With a few more moments to yourself, you stood in the bathroom washing your face before Randy walked in.

"Ma, I'm sorry." He sighed, walking to you.

"I don't care anymore." You said while patting your face dry. Leaving the bathroom, he followed you around the room.

"But you do. Just tell me what you're thinking." He asked, grasping your wrist.

You wasted no time to turn around, and his eyes widened. "Thank God you said that because I got some words. Go sit." You pointed to the bed.

He swallowed as the bed creaked under his weight. "If I tell her one thing, why would you let her do another? Do you like embarrassing me? She don't even take me serious when you're around."

He opened his mouth but was quickly cut off. "You must not respect me, can't be. You take me for a joke? Mind you, I'm trying to help her start eating more vegetables."

You began to pace the floor, fume practically coming out of your ears. "And you knew that, Randy, and still told her she can get a cookie."

Randy's lips were folded inward and his hands were clasped in his lap as he watched and listened to you.

"I'm really sick of your sh-."

"Mommy, come look!" You turned your attention towards your daughter who stood in the doorway. Clearing your throat, you and Randy followed after her.

Walking into the kitchen, she had a proud smile pointing to the now-clean Dora plate. "I ate all the broccoli!"

Your mouth dropped and your face lit up. "Really?" She nodded, and you squatted down to embrace her. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart."

"Daddy said you just wanted me to be healthy and strong like you." She explained, and you couldn't fight the pout on your face.

"He's right, baby. I did." You glanced over at Randy, and he just delivered a bright smile and a thumbs up.

His efforts didn't go unnoticed. She pulled away to look at you. "I guess…I'll try and eat veggies." She said, twisting her body side to side.

"Thank you, sweetheart." You gave a kiss on her cheek before standing.

"Go get ready for bed." Randy told her, leaning down to give her a kiss on her cheek as well.

She ran off, leaving you and Randy alone. "I'm sorry, seriously. I'll try to listen and understand how you want to parent her."

His hands found your waist, tugging you towards him. His chest felt firm against your palms as you looked at him. "Thank you, Ran." You smiled. Giving him a kiss, you went off to put her Dora plate in the sink.

"I think I want a cookie too." Randy said.

"There's still more left." You told him, nodding towards the half-full jar.

You felt his strong arms wrap around you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "I'm not talking about that kind." He whispered.

You and Michael walked through a moonlit forest, silver light cascading down the tall trees and pooling onto the soft earth beneath your feet. The crisp night air brushed against your skin as fallen leaves crushed beneath your soles.

The both of you returned from a horror movie, where you’d spent most of it glued to Michael’s arm despite how hard you tried to convince yourself you weren’t scared. You couldn’t take your eyes off the screen, even when you probably should have.

Typically, you would’ve been scared to trek these woods— especially after watching a horror movie? Nightmare central. Interestingly enough, you felt safe around your vampire boyfriend. Vampire— the same creatures who drink blood for a living.

On your own spare time, or really after he confessed his vampirism to you after his fangs poked your lips during a makeout session in his backseat, you educated yourself on vampires and their ways. They’re hungry, unchanging, detached from humanity. Alluring but dangerous, their beauty and charisma hiding the predatory nature that lies within. Another thing that makes them horrifying is their intimacy— getting close with their victim before they meet their demise. Vampires embody the contradiction of wanting to live forever while being unable to truly live, and reading that made your heart tug at its strings.They outlive generations of families, watch the construction of new cities, all under the same moon.

And yes, Michael technically possessed all these things but he was different!

His calloused hands, accustomed to handling tree bark and sheet music, were so gentle when they came into contact with your soft skin. His calloused hands that handled tree bark and sheet music were so gentle when it came into contact with your soft skin. Michael’s voice was a soft-spoken melody, yet his words were outspoken lyrics. His music was so powerful that you were convinced the Earth’s rotation stilled, just so the world could stop and listen. You joked with him that his music can conjure spirits and cross between the line of life and death. He was quick to dismiss you, shaking his head and waving his hand.

You’re well aware that something capable of loving you is also capable of consuming you.

You can tell Michael had grown a quiet possession over you. Even before you started dating, before you discovered his vampiric nature, his eyes lingered for too long, his hand would find yours without a thought, and whenever someone managed to steal your attention from him, you could catch the faintest twitch in his expression. You noticed his tentativeness— the way he hesitated before even touching you, as if he was constantly reminding himself to be careful. He was never forceful nor demanding, but there was something almost instinctive in the way he stayed close.

Beyond his immortality, his music, and the lives he devoted himself to protecting, you were the only thing keeping him tethered to this damned Earth. Losing you would mean losing a piece of himself— a piece he wasn’t sure he could survive without.

“That movie we watched, it was crazy…” Michael started with a grin, trailing off to make room for your incoming rant.

“I know right! Terrifying. I mean come on, why would you willingly follow a stranger into the woods just because you had a nice conversation with them? And then they turned out to be a monster and drained all the main character’s friends of their blood!”

“You know, that kinda reminds me of soemthin’…” his irises flickered, a flash of ember replacing the silver flame.

“And it’s so— huh?”

He disappeared into the woods and instantly you froze.

“Mike?” you peeked at the empty space where he had been standing just seconds ago.

“Michael come on,” it came out as an unexpected whine, “You’re not fuckin’ funny you know!”

The woods fell dead silent. The rustle of the trees stilled, you couldn’t hear the crunch of his footsteps or the huff of his breath. The only thing you heard was your heart pounding in your ears and your own breath picking up. Sure, he was messing around you hoped, but in the dead of night surrounded by tall trees and potential wild animals? Michael must’ve been out of his damn mind.

You muttered a quiet string of curses. Sometimes you wonder why you dealt with someone so childish. It was like there was a child trapped inside a grown man’s body.

Then a dark figure flashed between the trees.

“Michael?”

Nothing.

You narrowed your eyes and took a cautious step forward.

“I swear to god, Michael—“

Another shadow flew by, ruffling a nearby shrub. It zoomed past you again before gliding up a tree. Michael and these damn trees, you clicked your teeth.

“Now you’re fucking with me…” you chuckled dryly despite your heart being in your ass right now.

He always did this, always loved to pull a good prank. Disappear around corners, sneaking up behind you, appearing where he shouldn’t have been, and always climbing those damn trees.

But it felt different tonight— he hadn’t said anything. He didn’t laugh or give you the slightest indication he was joking. And suddenly an awful thought crossed your mind: What if he was being serious? What if his hunger got worse? What if he’d run because he knew he couldn’t trust himself around you.

Your stomach twisted into roughly forty knots as you whined, “Michael… jsut out come already.. this isn’t funny anymore… please...”

Crunch!

A twig snapped and you immediately looked over your shoulder. Nothing. Just trees that stretched on for another mile. You expected a jump scare, like the one you just saw in the movie.

Once more you peeked over your shoulder.

You wished you were relieved that nothing was behind you, but that only meant that it was in front of you. When you turned back around you heard around Crunch! But this time in was above you. You couldn’t see much through the trees, but you didn’t miss the pair of glowing, yellow eyes staring you down.

“Shit—“

The figure flashed from the tree to stand directly behind you.

You trembled with wide eyes, your fingers seemingly finding their way to the hem of your sweater. You could feel every exhale of his breath against your skin, warm and teasing despite how cold vampires usually were supposed to be.

“I’m so thirsty…” he whispered, inhaling your sweet scent. You were wearing that perfume he snagged for you a week ago. Sure, he could’ve paid for it. He could’ve paid for ten boxes of it. But the cashier had been rude, and a little mind manipulation was the only way Michael would be satisfied in getting this gift for you.

You opened your mouth to speak but no words came out but a choked gasp. Attempting to outrun Michael would’ve been digging your own grave, so your feet stayed planted into the dirt, whether you liked it or not.

“I haven’t eaten in weeks…” he growled. His breath grew hotter and you could tell his mouth fell open, the ghost of his fangs fanning over your skin. You froze, eyes nearly popping from their sockets as you yelped, your hands reaching for anything to support yourself. Even if he was about to drain you of every drop of blood in your body, some instinctive part of you still sought his touch.

Your eyes squeezed shut.

You felt the cool air return to your neck.

Then a laugh. In a swift move he appeared in front of you, hunched over with his arms folded over your stomach.

“You shoulda seen— hah— the look on your face!” his pearly whites twinkled in the moonlight.

Your cheeks burned. Embarrassment flooded through your body as you crossed your arms shield yourself from his laughter. If anything you shielded yourself from crying, something he hasn’t seen you do yet.

“I scared you,” his laughter died down, and he looked at you with a teasing grin, “didn't I?”

“You’re not funny,” you muttered, squinting at him before your chin the other way, “and I wasn't even scared.”

“Oh you were so scared.”

“I don’t like you at the moment.” You sucked in a breath and walked away. You were a little pissed, yes. And definitely not prepared for the hot tears threatening to make an entrance— which made you even more pissed cause Why are you crying? you asked yourself. You hated to be a Debbie Downer, especially because Michael was looking at you with the brightest laugh and biggest grin on his face. You quietly sucked it up, shook your head, and kept walking.

“Oh come on girl! I was only playin’!” Michael jogged after you, still grinning, completely oblivious to how genuinely upset you’d become. Unfortunately for him he couldn’t read your mind, though it wouldn’t take a supernatural ability to sense when someone is on the verge of tears.

You managed to swallow down your feelings and crack a smile. Then you picked up your pace, just enough to make him chase after you.