miss ke 💐

synposis: an old fling ain't so old no moe.

old friends with benefits to lovers, (lil short srry!) uhh fuckboy michael? ( idk not rlly,)

warnings. smut, pussy eating n fucking

⭑.ᐟ

A light night call led to something more. A sweet kiss through the phone landed right between your legs instead.

Michael had only been back in town for a day when your phone rang late that evening. Hm, he was back and already was calling you. You wake up from your bed, turning over to face the phone. You stretch your arm out grabbing the phone, you let out a quiet sigh before answering.

"Hello, may I ask whos calling?" You say in your professional yet, tired voice.

“Hey,” Michael said as soon as you picked up, like he’d been waiting for you to answer. There was a small pause, then a low laugh. “How's my pretty baby?”

You sit up in your bed, "Well isn't this a surpise." Sarcasm found its way easy through your mouth. "What is it?"

“Ouch,” he said, dragging the word out like you’d actually offended him, though the smile was obvious in his voice. “That’s how you greet me? After all this time?”

“You called me, extremely late," you reminded him.

“Yeah, I did,” he replied easily, like it wasn’t a big deal at all. “I wanted to talk to you."

Your brows arched. “For what?”

"Because I miss talking to you. You're my girl.” he said, his voice lighter now. "You know that?"

You roll your eyes at that. "I'm your girl huh?" you gently pull up your night gown strap. “You always think you can get what you want,” you muttered under your breath.

A soft laugh came through the line. “You know that's not how I am. Especially to you”

“Michael…”

“Come outside y/n,” he asks a little slow like it was the simplest thing in the world. You make a face before getting up from your bed. You step over some heels and shopping bags, walking over to your window. You lightly leaned against your window and peek out.

You spotted him leaning against his car, phone next to his ear, like he hadn't disappeared all those months ago. The sight alone was enough to make old feelings crawl back to the surface.

You hesitated, phone still pressed to your ear, staring at nothing in particular as if you were trying to talk yourself out of it. He didn’t rush you. He didn’t have to.

And even though you rolled your eyes, "I'll be down in a second," you were already moving toward the door.

You wanted to push back, to make it clear you weren’t that easy to pull around. You told yourself you had a say in this, that you could keep it casual, keep it controlled, keep it from slipping back into whatever it used to be between you two. But the moment he showed up, the moment you heard his voice on the phone, it made something in you start to soften.

You grabbed your robe, sliding it on. The flooring was cold against your slippers as you moved through the house, slow at first, like you were still debating whether you were actually doing this. But your feet didn’t stop.

There he stood outside, in a worn bomber jacket and jeans, hands tucked in his pockets like he had all the time in the world. Relaxed. Too relaxed for someone who had just pulled up unannounced like this.

“Hey,” he said, soft at first, like he was testing the air between you. And then, like nothing had ever changed at all, that familiar half-smile showed up again.

You rolled your eyes, already on edge "That ain't gonna happen tonight, I have work tomorrow" you told him.

"Is that right?" he asks you.

"Mhm."

Michael let out a small hum, stepping a little closer like it was nothing. “You always workin’.”

“I got to,” you replied with a shrug. “And you should talk. When's the last time you actually spoke to me in person?”

Michael looked down for a second, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “That's fair.”

You folded your arms, “Mhm.”

He looked up at you, his expression softening. “You know if you need anything, I'm here,” he said. “Just a phone call away.” The words were simple, but you needed to hear them. For all the time he'd spent gone, for all the things that had changed, it was nice to hear him say that.

You look down at your slippers before looking back to him, "So, what you here for?"

"Well,” he said, voice light, “I can’t stop by to make sure you get a good night’s rest?”

You shot him a look, “Since when do you do night checks on me?”

That made his smile widen just a little. “Since I've met you downtown, at the dinner. He replied. “You'd be tired every night.”

A smile threatened to creep onto your face, but you pushed it down. “Yeah, then you'd drive me home anyway.”

Michael nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then you got busy.” The words slipped out before you could stop them. You shook your head a little. “Not that I blame you. You had shows, recordings, interviews… all kinds of stuff goin' on.”

Your face softened. “But I'm proud of you, Michael. I hope you know that," you look up at him.

Michael's eyes lightened at you. Before you could look away, he reached for you, gently pulling you a little closer. His hands slid down your arms in a slow unknowing motion, like he didn't even realize he was doing it. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he looked at you.

“You don't know how much it means to hear you say that,” he said quietly. “Really.” His eyes lingered on yours for a moment. “Most people just see the shows and all that other stuff. They don't… they don't always see me.”

His hands hang onto yours, "I wish you'd come with me."

"But I can't right?" You look at him, somewhat saddened. You let out a small laugh afterward, like the words didn't bother you as much as they actually did. "Bad for business." Michael paused, quiet.

“You should probably get goin',” you said quietly, leaving his hands. Your voice sounded lighter than you felt. The truth was, you didn't want him to go. You'd spent all this time telling yourself you'd be fine if he came back, fine if he left again, fine if things never changed. But standing here with him now, hearing him say all the things you'd wanted to hear for months, you weren't feeling fine at all. You turned and started walking away, but the feeling followed you. That vulnerable feeling you'd been trying so hard to ignore, pacify even.

“Hey,” he said softly.

You looked back at him, you hated that you did. You hated how quickly he could do that to you. One conversation, one look, and suddenly his leaving felt important again. Like his presence carried more weight than it should. Like you'd never quite learned how to stop missing him.

His thumb brushed lightly over your knuckles like it was something he didn’t even think about doing. “You know I care about you,” he said simply. “I don’t like leavin’ like that. But when I’m gone… I’m still thinkin’ about you.”

He said it like it was obvious. You swallowed a little, your expression softening before you could stop it.

“You act like I don’t care,” he said quietly. “That’s not true.”

"You care about a lot of women, Ms.Diana ring a bell?" you asks folding your arms.

Michael let out a breath through his nose, shaking his head like he was trying not to react too hard. “Oh, please,” he said, offended but still controlled. “That’s what this is about?”

“No,” you replied, stepping closer. “But God forbid I start talking to a guy, you’d have something to say.” You then glance down to his lil jacket and then back up at him, "Every time she's around you, she's got this look. Then y'all get on stage together and she's singin' all in your face," you scoffed quietly.

"You think just ’cause you’re back in town things are gonna be different?” you asked, lightly flicking the edge of his jacket.

Michael looked down at your hand for a second, then back up at you, for a long moment. “First off, she’s nothin',” he said quietly. “So get that outta your head right now.”

"Yeah well doesn't seem like it."

“Well, I'm tellin' you it isn't,” he said simply. “Believe me or don't, but I'm not gonna sit here and lie to you.”

“You make it sound like I’m just passin’ through,” he said quietly. “That’s not how I want you to feel.”

The words settled between you. For once, neither of you had something to say. You both just listened to each other, taking it in. You looked away, your eyes drifting toward the street beyond him. The neighborhood was quiet now. A few porch lights glowed in the distance, and somewhere down the block a dog barked before everything fell still again.

You folded your arms tighter around yourself. “I just wanna see you more often,” you admitted. “That’s all." You shrug like it was nothing, but in reality you was holding back small tears.

You let out a small sigh and glanced toward the door. “You know what? Just come in for a second,” you said.

Michael looked at you for a moment, almost surprised by the invitation. Without waiting for an answer, you turned and headed inside. A second later, you heard the door open behind you. Michael stepped in after you, closing it quietly as he entered. He glanced around the familiar space before his eyes settled back on you. It felt strangely familiar having him there again. Like no time had passed at all. You sigh to yourself, lightly running your fingers over your forehead.

“For a second, huh?” Michael asked you, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Don't start,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Before he could come back with another comment, you turned and walked over to the fridge. “Do you want anything to drink?” you asked, pulling the door open and looking inside.

Michael leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets. “You got a pop?”

"Yeah" you nod.

You push past some leftovers and produce before grabbing one, you then slide it across the counter to Michael. He catches it with his finger tips before turning it around. The label read RC, Royal Crown with it's red and blue colors. Michael cracks open the cold cola before slowly taking a long sip. He then turns his attention back to you.

"You know," he starts off. Your head turns to him, waiting for him to finish.

"I do be wanting to take you with me, it'd be nice to have you," Michael then glances back to the cola, as if focusing on that would make his next words seem less heavy.

“But it ain’t that simple. You got your life here," he says acknowledging you and him to live two separate lives.

His eyes then found you on you, “Your job, your space… everything,” he said quietly. “I can’t just come in and pull you out of all that.”

He paused, glancing down at the can in his hand before bringing it back up. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

Michael took another slow sip of his cola, like he was giving the words time to settle between you instead of pushing them too hard.

“But, I'd like to see you too.” The words made something in your chest tighten before you even had time to think about it. All of a sudden, you couldn't focus on his face anymore. You glanced away slow, looking down at your slippers.

“You always say stuff like that,” you replied lightly, but it didn’t land the way you wanted it to. “Then you disappear again. I just don’t wanna get used to you being here again… and then you’re gone."

Michael nods to you know, "I know."

"But I want you in my life,” he added after a beat. “So I’m willing to figure this out… if you are.”

"How do we go about this?" you asked him. In reality, neither of you had a clue. But that wasn't stopping the feelings that grew in each of you.

Michael was quiet for a moment, the question sitting between you both. "I don’t got a perfect answer for that,” he said softly.

You chuckled lightly to yourself, thinking, "Should I wish on all the rainbows that I see?" you murmured softly, almost under your breath. You glanced up to him.

“I loved hearin’ you sing that in the mornings,” he admitted quietly. “Used to stay in my head all day.” There was something still there, of course there was.

Your eyes glance down at Michael’s cola. “You gonna finish that?” You point to it.

Michael let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Still got a thing for takin’ my stuff, huh?” he said, a small smile on his face. “Go ahead," he shrugs to it while sliding it over the small distance.

Your nails touched the bottle first before your hand fully closed around it. You lifted it slowly and took a sip from the same spot he had, like it didn’t even cross your mind.

Michael didn’t say anything right away. He just watched you, like the small action meant more than it should’ve. When you took the sip, he finally let out a quiet breath through his nose.

“Taste good?” he said, voice lighter now, like he was trying to keep things normal again.

"Yeah, I actually like RC," you say simply. The colored soda rested on your taste buds, always giving that same sweet taste with the bubbles. Your eyes drifted over to the clock on the wall. The numbers caught your attention a little longer than they should’ve, and a quiet sigh slipped out of you before you even really thought about it. "Pretty late"

Michael followed your gaze to the clock, then back to you. He nodded slowly. “Yeah… it is,” he said, voice lower now. But neither of you moved right away.

“Hey, um… I appreciate you stopping by,” you said, pushing yourself up from the counter and turning slightly toward him. You hesitated for a second, fingers lightly brushing the edge of the counter.

“It’s… it’s needed,” you muttered more quietly, like you weren’t fully sure how to say it without giving too much away.

Michael’s expression softened right away. “I’m here. Always,” he said.

Your eyes stayed on him a moment too long after that, like you forgot to look away. You hated how easily that happened, how he could say something small and suddenly everything else faded for a second.

“Yeah,” you replied softly, your robe still tied loosely around you.

A quiet silence settled between you both, heavier than the conversation a moment ago.

Michael shifted slightly, like he was thinking before he spoke again. “This ain’t goodbye,” he said, voice low. “I’ll be here for a bit longer, doing some shows.” He looked at you for a second longer than before.

“Can I steal a kiss before I leave?"

You hesitated for a second, looking at him like the words had pulled something up in you.

Just like old times.

A kiss in the morning, before he went off to the studio. Then a kiss at night, after he came back. You were getting wrapped again. You hadn’t even realized how easily you remembered it, how your body seemed to fall back into something it once knew so well. Because it felt like that again, too easily, too naturally.

You leaned in, stepping a close. You place your hands on each side of his face, and give a quick kiss to his lips, just like old times. Pressing against them, warm and lightly sweet from the cola. His hands gently held onto your lower waist, respecting the space. You then part slowly, looking him in the eye. You both stood there for awhile until he spoke.

"Don't go quiet on me now," he says to you lowly. The words settled over you, and for a moment all you could do was look at him.

You'd spent so long trying to keep your distance. Trying not to miss him too much. Trying not to let yourself fall back into old habits every time he walked back into your life.

But he was here. So, you kissed him, like you needed it.

To that, he pulls you in, giving you the softest yet neediest kisses. Just the two of you, alone, lips finally meeting again. The soft breaths coming from each of yours mouths. You part away, but rest your forehead against him. Next thing you know, it continues, all the way to your bed room. You gently led him toward the stairs, trying to act like your heart wasn't beating a little faster than usual.

Part of you felt ridiculous.

Just a few hours ago, you were telling yourself not to get wrapped up in him again. Now here you were leading him upstairs like none of those promises to yourself had ever existed.

You glanced back at him.

Michael was already looking at you.

You glanced away, slightly nervous, "What?" you asked, trying to sound casual.

"Nothin'," he said, though the grin on his face said otherwise.

You made it a few steps farther before suddenly feeling his hands at your sides. Before you could even react, he lightly picked you up. A surprised laugh escaped you, mixed with a small squeal as your hands immediately grabbed onto his shoulders. Your legs rested around him as he looked up at you. "Put me down," you said, trying to sound serious.

"Yeah i'll put you down," he replies still holding you up. Your bedroom door pushes open as his foot pushes it forward. The kisses don't stop, they trail down your face, down to your neck. He made sure to kiss each part of your face so tenderly, and slowly.

"I missed you," the words slipped from your lips.

"I missed you too pretty girl," he presses you against your bed, deepening the kiss. He then parts from it slowly, "Remember I said, I wanna make sure you get a good night's rest?" He whispers looking at you.

You nod your head at him, "Yeah"

"You gonna let me do it?" His eyes were focused on you. You didn't trust yourself to say anything else. Instead, you leaned in, closing the distance between you once again. He sets you down on the bed, pushing you back. He slowly takes off his jacket tossing it right next to the bed.

He turns back to you leaning over you, kissing, the sounds fill the quiet room, aside from the air blowing through the curtains. His fingers gently ran down your side, then slowly going to your robe. They trace underneath and slowly feel through your panties, a small wet spot forming.

"You're wet just from my kisses?" he asks you between the kiss. You couldn't even respond back, you were too busy living through your flesh. "I guess some things never change" he says low before parting from the kiss.

"Hmmm, no," you manage, slightly breathless. He begins kissing down your chest, eyeing you as he kisses between your breast.

"Im here because I need you. No one is replacing you" he says between the kisses.

"I wanna make sure you know that," he says pausing. "Look at me, you believe me?" He asks holding your gaze.

You nod to him, "I believe you."

Hearing it was nice, but Michael wanted to prove it to you. He slowly undid your robe, gently untying the knot. His hands cupped both of your boobs, slowly grabbing and caressing. His lips then wrapped around one of your nipples, kissing and sucking on the area. You let out a soft, relaxed hum.

"You like when I do this?" he asks switching over to the other one, giving the same treatment. You nod to him, back arching and lightly holding his face into your boobs. He chuckled, keeping this up until he felt your legs part some more.

He kisses down your chest, getting very close to your pussy, which was aching for him. "Michael please," you asked him. "I've missed you so much"

Michael smiled before taking a finger and rubbing this finger down your clothed pussy. Your wetness soaked through the fabric, leaving a bigger wet spot. "Yeah I can tell" he hums before slowly peeling your panties off. He hums before lightly rubbing his finger over your clit, just to get you worked up.

“I missed you too,” he said softly. “Too many nights in that studio without you there.”

“I hated bein’ away from you,” you tell Michael quietly. "I missed hearing you sing, I missed being with you."

"Just tell me what you need" he pleads to you. "What you want me to do hm?" he asks. His thumb starts to circle your swollen bud, your back rises from the feeling, small tingles find it's way all over your body. Your hand brushes over your heart.

"God its' so pretty," he says almost to himself, taking in how slick you were on his fingers.

"I want you to love me," you stuttered quietly. Michael nodded. His finger then slowly dips in, and then out. He repeats this and watches every reaction you gave him. Giving you a nice rhythm to get used to. He felt himself growing, he gently presses over his bulge, trying to focus on you. You moan out quietly, his finger slips in and out of your cunt, hitting a good spot. His free hand kept pressing on his bulge to settle it down, but it never did. He then slowly undoes his belt, parting enough to free himself. He already has some precum leaking from his tip, he strokes himself slowly, moaning a little bit.

"You want it?" he asks you, still playing with your pussy. You nod needily, spreading your legs just a little wider. He hums, smiling lightly.

"Just let me get a taste first," he says quietly to you. "Can I? Can I get a taste baby?"

"Yeah Michael, I want you to. Just a taste" you say quietly to him.

He pulled you close to him, right up to his face.

"Just focus on me if its too much," he says before kissing the outside of where you needed him the most. He did this again, just teasing you, making you wait. After feeling your hand in his hair, he went lower. Just where your entrance was, licking the spot slowly. Then he gave small kiss right on your swollen clit, just to remind you on how grateful he was for you. Then, a sloppy kiss, making out with your pussy. Making you give out small moans, and soft cries.

His tongue, swirling and licking up your wetness, like its the best thing he's ever tasted. Occasionally looking up to see your reaction, and changing pace to see your eyes twitch.

He adds his thumb again and starts to rub your clit, wanting to watch you make a mess for him. Your pussy is just soaking up his lips. It's been so long, and yet your body never forgot.

"Now you ready baby" he says to you standing back up.

You sit up lightly to watch, you bit your bottom lip in anticipation. He slowly rubs his pretty tip in between your slit, coating it in your pussy juice. You watch as he does this, your chest heaving slightly, loving the view. He then pushes in, giving you some good slow much needed strokes in your pussy.

Your walls squeezed around his dick, pulling him into you. Michael's hands lightly gripped on your thighs.

"Hm relax for me" he says lowly.

You nod, trying to relax yourself a little more. Once you do he goes deeper, giving you what you've been craving. Him. Focused, specifically on you. He then goes deeper, moaning quietly, but enough for you. You moan with him, your boobs slightly bounce as he pumps in you.

"You think I wanna be with anyone else like this?" He leans in getting face to face with you, slightly out of breath, but just as needy.

"This close?" His breath just at the tip of your ear.

"Hm?" he asks you to wait for an answer, but all you could do is moan out quietly. When you couldn't answer, Michael picked up his pace. His hips snapped against you, the wetness from your pussy filled the room as he knocked the daylights out of you. Not aggressive, but passionate, he wanted you to know that you were his everything. He wanted you to know so too. Even when he's gone, you're still his, just like he said,

"You're my girl you know that?" he says to you. You stare up at him, his brown eyes focused on you. The weight of his gaze, combined with the friction between your bodies, sends a tight, coiling heat through your lower stomach.

"Y-Yeah, I know," you muttered. "I'm your girl"

Michael hummed softly, "Say it again, I wanna make sure you know." he held onto your legs, he knew you were going to cum. His grip on your legs tightens, hauling you closer against him.

"I'm your girl Michael," you whimper out.

"Yes you are pretty girl," he says in your ear before kissing all over your face. You then feel yourself cumming, a soft, broken cry escapes your lips, your fingers gripped into him. He slowed his pace, grinding shallowly and slowly to help you ride out the peak. He wanted to see the pleasure fill your eyes, and reappear once he slipped back in. He felt himself cum close, with a low groan, he slips out of your soaking pussy. He doesn't waste a second before stroking himself. Thick ropes shoot out right on your clit, he milks himself over you until he's spent.

He then leans back in kissing you, his teeth lightly biting your bottom lip to keep you focused. "Now you know" he says to you.

© work written by @cherrishkissed

18+ mdni! 𐔌 ݁ 𓂃 ⓘ content ﹕ messing around with your brothers best friend while he's gone. very pwp, sawryy :c

brothers best friend!jaafar & you sneaking away to your bedroom whenever your brother leaves to mess around. you’ve always had a crush on jaafar since he and your brother became friends. the way his eyes wandered to you coming in the kitchen for a snack while him, his brothers and your brother sat in the living room hanging out. lingering a bit too low as you made your way back up the stairs.

until one day, jaafar was left alone in the living room, seemingly because he didn’t want whatever fast food his brothers and best friend were going to get. you decided to make small talk with him, watching his eyes ogling your ass in your yoga pants. that is until one thing led to another, and now he had you face down in your mattress.

your quiet moans and his hips slapping against your ass were the only sounds to be heard, knowing he had to be quick. “god you feel so good baby..” he groaned as his big hands gripped onto your hips for more momentum. at this point, you couldn’t conjure up the words to reply—he was hitting your spot way too good. just the lewd sounds slipping from your mouth being your only reply to the dirty words he was spewing.

“fuck- i’m close.” his hips picked up some speed until you both heard the front door open, accompanied with the loud yet deep laughter from the both of your brothers. “shit.” he whispered under his breath, you covering your mouth to contain the loudness of your cries. but he didn’t stop there. he flipped you onto your back in hopes of making not as much noise, your duvet on top of his back, which helped suppress most noise.

“i’m gonna cum papi..” you whined in a whisper into his ear as your arms were wrapped around his neck, the swell of your breasts pressed against his chest.

that was his signal to go harder, chasing both of your releases. his face rested in the crook of your neck while he whimpered at the twitch of his cock. moments after, you squeezed around him so sweetly as your juices covered his length that was still plummeting inside of you. he covered your mouth quickly as your moaned out his name—a little too loud for comfort. but you didn’t care, all you cared about was how good he was filling you up and how you’ve imagined this for so long.

“fuck mami-“ he moaned into your neck, while he thrusted a couple more times before filling the condom he had on. he pulled out and slipped the condom off quickly.

“can i throw this out in here?” he asked while his curls stuck to the sweat on his forehead and his big puppy eyes watched you.

“mhm.” you replied as you watched him slip his clothes back on, running his fingers through his curls in your vanity mirror with a smug smile on your face. he turned around and placed one last peck on your lips while he whispered something to you.

“can i come back later tonight?” he smirked softly and as your response you hit him lightly on the chest, but you didn’t say no.

“get out of here.”

“i’m taking that as a yes.” his smirked turned to a little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, pecking your cheek before leaving your bedroom to meet up with the other guys.

“what were you doing dude?” you heard your brothers voice yell at him.

“going to the bathroom.” jaafar said quickly, coming up with the lamest excuse which made you giggle.

“yeah probably takin a fat shit.” jermajesty cut through, which made you laugh even harder.

and later that night, while your brother and his brothers were asleep in the room down the hall, jaafar was passed out in yours. let’s just hope his girlfriend doesn’t find out.

DA Tom Sneddon was a huge racist, by the way. He tipped off Diane Dimond about the 2003 raid so she could have it filmed to sway public opinion on Jackson. She was there outside the ranch that day with her cameras. He regularly leaked info to her which was either biased or completely false, which she reported on. He had a reputation of going after predominantly innocent people and black men, and his colleagues nicknamed him “mad dog”.

He told Chris Tucker to be a “good boy” during his cross examination on May 25th, 2005.

Michael Jackson himself accused Sneddon of being a racist in his song D.S. on his HIStory album, and even claimed he was involved with the KKK.

And mind you, there were even allegations of Tom Sneddon passing around those photos he took of Michael’s dick to all his friends and colleagues in private just for the shits and giggles. The strip search was just a way to humiliate Jackson.

The DA and partnering police departments contacted the FBI to see if they could prosecute Jackson under the MANN Act on September 7th, 1993. The MANN Act is also known officially as the “White Slave Traffic Act”, which was introduced in 1910 by the author Rep. James Robert Mann.

This Act allowed police officers to arrest on the grounds of “immoral behavior”, and this law was historically used to frequently smear black men, especially those that dated white women.

Jack Johnson was the first black man to be prosecuted under the MANN Act. He was the world’s first black Heavyweight Boxing Champion. The proposition of the law was largely due to the potential to smear Johnson. Johnson was viewed by the press as a black man who didn’t know his place. He displayed his success openly, more than 50 years before segregation ended in America. Society deemed he be humbled accordingly.

He traveled and was sexually involved with white women, and was prosecuted for it, specifically for “transporting females across the state line for immoral purposes”. The white women that were involved with Johnson stated under oath it was consensual, and their travels with him were willingly made. Moreover, these travels took place long before the MANN Act was established, but this did not stop an all white jury from convicting him.

Years later, Chuck Berry was prosecuted for the same thing. He met a teenage girl and asked her to work as a hat-check girl in his restaurant. The girl in question was a waitress, which is how he met her. She agreed to the job offer, and he traveled with her after a concert so she could work in St Louis. He was prosecuted for traveling with her, and sentenced to 3 years in prison.

Mind you, none of these men’s white contemporaries were ever prosecuted for such things, despite them doing the same thing and far worse.

The MANN Act is an inherently racist law that exists because of the potential to prosecute black men. The LAPD, working with the DA, wanted to prosecute Jackson under this law. It is in the FBI documents.

𝓶. jackson - shy around you

how thriller!michael acts around assistant!reader due to his little crush ᢉ𐭩 nothing but fluff and a very obvious crush – wc 0.3k , shelf

thriller!michael — who needs to be near you at all times. during meetings? sitting right beside you. during breaks while filming short films? hanging around where you are. he’ll always be sure to subtly touch your hand when you give him a glass of water, or bump his knee against yours while sitting next to you.

thriller!michael — who will always ask for your opinion on literally anything. you like to watch him dance when you have nothing else to do. “does this look right?” “move my hand to where you think it looks better.” or when he’s about to go on stage to perform. “fix my makeup for me, please?” “i like the way my hair does whatever it’s doing right now. do you?”

thriller!michael — who loves to tease you. ding dong ditching your hotel room, knocking before escaping down the hallway in a fit of giggles. playing with your hair, fluffing the crown or flipping a piece over to the wrong side. you shoo him off with soft laughter and warm cheeks, making him grin sheepishly.

thriller!michael — who likes to show off for you. when you’re in the recording booth, just watching, he’ll lock eyes with you while singing. he’s a joker, obviously, but for some reason he’s even funnier when you’re around. he looks at you when he laughs, liking the way your eyes light up and your face brightens.

thriller!michael — who gets very shy when you talk to him. even though he tries to pretend that he’s confident around you, he’ll always manage to stumble over his words or say something embarrassing. he rubs the back of his neck shyly as you giggle at him, feeling his cheeks burn.

thriller!michael — who enjoys giving you little playful compliments every now and then. “i like what you’ve done with your hair today.” “i like that colour on you, it’s stunning.” “you have really beautiful hands, i’ve just noticed.” very random, yet flustering compliments. you give a shy smile, managing a quiet ‘thank you’ before glancing away.

yes this is a repost but i’ve returned and rebranded! headcannons are so fun to write, should i do more?

@call-me-ninaaa @sturniolo-szn2 @stvrnx @cherrychr1s @courta13 @chrepsi @starrsturns @eternalsturn @wildessofa @sturnsfluff @urfaveprettypsycho @snoopylace @angel-sturn1 @bittenbymatt @deadlycoldwarden @dearlilies @whore4chris @slvt4chrissturniolo @stars4star @amandapanda2 @umafanficdoidaqualquer

“i can kiss.” he’s in the mist of defending himself, and he has every right too! but, you never said he couldn’t kiss, only that it could use some—assistance. your relationship with michael is still fairly new, the fresh experience of exploring each other mentally, emotionally, spiritually and physically is the current phase the two of you are venturing. of course that exploration never truly ends in a good standing relationship, but these discoveries are new and could use some shaping.

you struggle fighting the smug curl that twitched towards the corner of your lips, “i never said you couldn’t kiss michael.”

“you said it needed work.” his tone falls flat, playfully.

he’s feeling insecure, but he knows your intentions are well. at this age he shouldn’t need a lesson on how to kiss or make out, it should be something that comes naturally to him, but unfortunately for him it isn’t. he didn’t have the privilege of exploring this part of his life, up until now anything that had to do with a woman was strictly a peck. there truly wasn’t enough free time to explore anything past that, and now that the opportunity is here, he’s feeling a little self conscious.

“it does, but that’s okay.” your shrug when you shoot him a tender grin. “don’t you wanna kiss me?”

“m’yeah, but i shouldn’t need help.”

your give him a playful roll of the eyes, wishing he’d stop sulking. you shush him, scooting yourself closer to him on his living room couch. “it might be better if i sit in your lap.”

his eyes flicker from his lap back to you, hands opening as a nonverbal invitation. hands awkwardly assist you in crawling into his lap, his large hands hovering by your sides. you can’t help but laugh and you giggling only worsens when he frowns.

“don’t laugh.”

“michael you’re so tense. relax baby.” hands gently placed on his chest before they make their way up towards his jaw. his movements are stiff, he’s not coming off as nervous. unsure would feel like a better fit of words. he’s in his own head too much, constantly wondering while simultaneously trying to figure out what you want his next move to be. when instead he should let go and surrender to moving in rhythm with you, which he can’t if he’s overthinking.

you place a soft kiss on both his cheeks, hoping the cool tickle of your lips would smooth him, and they did. you watch him steadily, lids heavy with adoration. you realize he’s trying too hard to come off more experienced than what he is, trying to impress you, show you that he’s a man. but that’s not what you need, it’s not what you expect from him either. you know his situation and even if he had a different upbringing, there’s always room to learn. it’s only kissing—at least that’s what you think.

when the two of you do kiss you’ve noticed he’ll start off fine and somewhere along the line he feels too calculated, as if he’s doing what he thinks is right and it makes his kisses stiff and clunky. it’s almost like he brings his perfectionism into your relationship, your intimate moments; which make them sometimes feel unnatural, and you wanna get him out of that.

“so now what?” the anticipation is killing him, your stare is intimidating, but in a way where he feels the need to live up to this made up expectation he’s given himself.

thoughtlessly your chin tilts, “is there somewhere you need to be?”

he shakes his head.

“then what’s the rush.” you readjust yourself in his lap, “just enjoy the moment.”

“i want it to be good.” his voice trails off and his eyes are big and glassy, lashes delicate when they kiss his brows.

“it is good, michael. it’s only a kiss, y’need to get out of your head.” the pads of your fingers tap against his temple.

he patiently closes his eyes with a tiny nod, signaling that he’ll work with you. he’ll try to get out of his way.

you watch his eyes flutter open, doing his damnest to allow his mind to clear. his eyes fall on yours and he could nearly melt beneath your gaze, a small smile naturally rests on your face; you’re giving him all the patience in the world, he has to get himself together. his hands flex at the waistband of your skirt, scooting you further up his lap.

it’s starts with a small smooch at the corner of his mouth, then a full kiss at his brown heart shaped lips. but his mouth barely moves. you couldn’t hold back the giggle that escaped your throat, pulling back you look down at him, “pucker baby.” he mimics your grin, knowing he’s fallen back into overthinking that quickly.

“don’t think about it, feel it. we’ve kissed before.”

he nods, maybe if he looks at it like how he does dancing? he doesn’t really think much about it he just does it, allows the present moment to rhythmically guide him.

a sense of knowing and a wash of confidence takes over his being, actions moving with security. one had firmly placed on your lower hip, the other cupping your jaw. you nearly yelp into the kiss, his sudden change in demeanor briefly startling you.

this kiss feels more sensual, feels like he’s allowing himself to feel it, to slip into his desire and attraction mindlessly. soft lips fit like a puzzle against yours, although he’s feeling it more, he’s kissing the same spot. in your attempts to guide him you tilt your head, moving the kisses on more than one space. he eventually follows your lead, everything feels more in tune.

you can’t help but giggle at the way your heads push against each other, each smack against your lips deepening the next kiss. large hands caress your neck, subconsciously emphasizing the kiss even more.

he catches on quick.

he’s got the urge to do something daring, without putting much thought into it his tongue is peaking out, pink muscle grazing your top lip. without hesitation you follow his lead. hot mouths slick with spit, in an instant nearly lapping at each other. things get heated rather quick, and his body’s on fire. you’ve kissed before, but it’s never gone this far. you’re so caught up in the moment, you hadn’t even noticed your grip on his button up, desperation unknowingly surging through your body. a slight creek of the plush couch beneath you, and the wet squelch of your mouths are the only things heard in the quiet air.

@ thriller era!michael x female reader

summary: you're a costume designer and michael's girlfriend. you're in the studio with michael, working on designing the outfits for his upcoming short films based on the ideas he shared with you, while he's having a particularly hard time recording the final song on thriller... so he asks you to come into the soundbooth with him. themes: music as foreplay, fingering, praise kink, soft dom!michael, emotional intimacy, clit stimulation, multiple orgasms, creampie, studio sex, yearning, deeply in love author's note: reposted from my wattpad & ao3

YES!

𝑮𝒖𝒂𝒓𝒅 𝑫𝒐𝒈

Michael Jackson x Wife!Reader

Synopsis: Michael was able to keep his calm when it came to most things, but when it came to your safety, he could become incredibly protective. Content: Swearing, anxiety around large crowds, someone grabs reader, Michael lowkey loses his shit, suggestive content W.C. 2.2k

Masterlist

You hated large crowds, something about them made your throat close up and your heart race a million miles a minute. Unfortunately for you, your husband was like a crowd magnet. Not that he really had any control over it, but wherever he went a crowd followed. Had you not hated it, you would have found it impressive.

With his third studio album having just been released, the crowds were getting more intense. You felt like you could hardly go anywhere with him without panic rising into your chest as people quickly recognized him and hovered near the two of you.

Honestly, the worst part of it was the paparazzi. They were what gave you the hardest time, always shoving, always yelling, it made your head fuzzy. Michael knew your aversion to crowds, and he did his absolute best to keep them as contained as possible. He hired more security, he even got duplicate cars to try and throw people off. But somehow those stupid buggers with their giant flashing cameras always found you two.

Since announcing your sudden marriage to the public, the paparazzi had been trailing you specifically. They were all eager to capture photos of you alone, finding any and everything to scrutinize you. It was exhausting. You felt like you couldn't leave the ranch without fearing that you might be photographed inappropriately.

pov: you more than a friend to your best friend's boyfriend

part 1 • part 2 •

when you open the locker, you're not expecting him. to your surprise, jaafar is standing right in front of you. you can't deny the surprise on your face; you never expected him to appear in front of you. and now, you don't even know how to react.

before you can say anything, he walks through the door; you have no choice, so you close the door and follow him. for a moment you just stare at him; something must've happened. you blocked him, but you can't believe that he came all the way for that reason.

ꪆৎ in the archives. a fluffy oneshot, any era !

“ just trying to see how this thing works,” he muttered, zooming in and out with the lens capturing a videotape. micheal testing out his new camera while standing in front of the mirror. you, the source of joy in his life wandered into the frame mid-yawn and stand behind him. “ oh.is this a new cam? can i?” he hands it over, and you peer through the viewfinder. “ ouuuh ! i likeee … this quality is better than the last one, when did you get it mike?” suddenly you pan the camera’s view towards him, and that endearing smile graces his face as well as a bashful chuckle. “ a while back. didn’t get the chance to see the new kind of features it has.” he responds. “well now you have a volunteer” you teased, still filming him.

a grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “a volunteer?” you zoomed in dramatically on his face. “ mhm… for your very serious camera testing.” he laughed as he reached for the lens, not wanting to be the main focus. “you’re supposed to film normal things.”

“you are a normal thing.” you interject, still recording and dodging his futile attempts.

“that didn’t sound very convincing.”

“okay…fine. you, mr jackson are exceptionally interesting.”the smile he tried to hide only widened. through the viewfinder you watched his eyes soften as he looked at you.

you adjusted the focus until his face sharpened perfectly in frame. letting out a low whistle “you have got to be gods favorite with a face like that.” michael groaned and covered his face with one hand while laughing. “ i can’t with you, girl.” he sighed before finally taking the camera and filming you again and you made a silly face, something similar to a frown since the focus was directly on your bare face. “ there she is, lo and behold that natural beauty..” he reached forward, fixing the slipping strap on your shoulder and then brushing your cheek with quiet care.” just casually standing in front of me looking like a dream.” he chuckled then his brow lifted. “oh, hold on did you see what i got you this morning?”

“ you got me something?” you tilted your head in confusion as you earned a nod assisted by a hum from him. “ seems like you’ve missed it. it was right on your vanity table. wasn’t hard to miss.” he added. “ I must be suffering from some sort of brain fog or something because there wasn’t anything new on there that i hadn’t seen before.” the lens stayed locked on you, capturing how your confusion contorted into confusion as you made your way back to the bedroom, straight toward the table and michael followed right behind you.

at first everything looked normal. perfume bottles, a brush and scattered little items you’re used to seeing. and then you saw it. a small enamel music box sat neatly between your things. the design gorgeously crafted unlike anything you’ve ever seen. “ oh..” he could barely stifle his excitement when you carefully take it with surprise. your fingertips brushing along the gold engraved initials on the lid. “ go on.. open it.” his lighter tone encouraged. “ please?”

the lid clicked open.

then the music began, filling the space with a light accent of a rather familiar melody. immediately you turned around, mouth parting from shock. “ michael….” the camera captured it all as well as his laugh in the background. “ yeah?” his response came out gently, the humor fading from his tone. “ you said once.. you’ll never get tired of hearing this record, you mentioned it being your all time favorite.. so i had this made for you.” he ended with a small shrug.

the music kept playing and you were currently getting swarmed by so many emotions all it once. the main one being nostalgia. that almost made your eyes glaze over with tears as you listened to that lovely tune. you hummed along and michael singing the lyrics muffled till the song ended. with a big smile you finally express your great gratitude. “ thank you, this is so so special to me. like..more than i can even explain right now. i promise to treasure it forever, for all times.”

he adjusted the camera, still smiling. “ and this right here is my favorite thing to see.” his eyes softened afterwards. “ i just wanted to give you something that makes you feel that… whenever you want.” after a few seconds of silence of him simply admiring this precious moment, he gently admitted. “ i love you, (name).”

you rushed into his arms with a squeal, “ i love you too !” giving him kisses that he quickly returned. the soft sounds of it fading as the footage slowly came to an end.

Jermajesty x Shy! Reader

Summary: Jermajesty coming home from a long day and just being clingy with you because he misses you.

The apartment was quiet when Jermajesty finally walked in.

He shut the door behind him with a soft sigh, dropping his keys onto the counter like he’d been holding the weight of the entire day in his hands.

You looked up from the couch. “…Hey.” That was all you got out before he was already crossing the room.

“Hi, pretty girl.” He dropped onto the couch beside you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into him like he hadn’t seen you in weeks instead of just a day.

You made a small sound of surprise.

“Jermajesty”

“No,” he muttered, burying his face into your shoulder. “Don’t ‘Jermajesty’ me right now.” You blinked. “…What?”

“I missed you."

That shut you up.

You softened without even thinking about it. Your hands slowly came up, resting awkwardly at first before gently settling on his back. “You saw me this morning,” you said quietly.

Jermajesty let out a dramatic sigh against your skin. “That was a crime.” You huffed a small laugh. “You’re being dramatic." “I’m being deprived.” “Of what?”

He finally lifted his head just enough to look at you. “My girl.” Your face warmed instantly “Your girl?”

“Mm-hm.” He tightened his arms again like he was making a point. “The pretty, shy, quiet one I like to bother.”

“Bother?” you repeated, weakly.

He smiled.

He shifted again, this time sliding his head into your lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You stared down at him.

“…You’re really tired.”

“Long day,” he admitted softly. “Too many people. Too much noise.” Your fingers hesitated. Then gently ran through his hair. He melted instantly.

“Oh,” he whispered. “There she is.” “What?” “My favorite feeling.”

“Your hands in my hair,” he said simply. “Feels like I’m home.” Your chest tightened a little. You didn’t know what to say to that. You kept stroking his hair.

After a moment, he peeked up at you. “You miss me too, right?” You hesitated for half a second too long. That was enough for him. Jermajesty grinned.

“Aha.”

“I do,” you admitted quickly. “I just— I was fine." “That’s a lie.”

“It’s not—”

He poked your side gently. “You were counting the minutes.” “I was studying.”

“For what? Me not texting you enough?”

You huffed.

“You’re impossible.”

He sat up slightly, still holding onto your waist like he refused to give you any space at all.

Then pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. You immediately looked away. “Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Making me blush.”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said innocently. Then kissed your other cheek. “This is just how I breathe.”

“Liar.” You tried to stay composed. You really did. Then he cupped your face gently. “Hey, mama.” You met his eyes. There it was again. That soft look.

The one that always made your shyness feel safe instead of small. “I’m home now,” he said quietly. “Okay?” Your voice came out softer than you meant it to. “…Okay.”

“Good.” He smiled. Then leaned in and rested his forehead against yours “Don’t let me go again tomorrow, yeah?” You hesitated, then nodded “…Yeah.”

Jermajesty’s smile widened. “Good girl." Your whole face went warm instantly. “Don’t call me that.”

pairing ⁀➷ bully! cameron cade x plus-size! black reader.

synopsis ⁀➷ cameron has teased you for years on end, but suddenly wants your help with schoolwork. you oblige, but soon find out his hatred for you is not as it seems.

song of chapter ⁀➷ ‘wish you well’ by brent faiyaz (unreleased)

word count + warnings ⁀➷ 3.9k || 18+, nsfw content, no minors! bully!cam, nerd reader, jealous! cam, teasing, nitpicking, mentions of masturbation, one-sided crush, soft fem domme reader, body appreciation, slapping (cameron likes it🤭), jerking off.

‘darling, i don’t wish you well. when you ain’t with me, i want you crying.’

ᥫ᭡

bully! cameron, who seemed to despise your entire existence.

you couldn’t quite figure it out, but each shoulder check, mocking laugh and condescending comment, let you know he for sure hated your guts. you only shared one class with the highly esteemed quarterback, but ran into him on a constant basis in the college hallways.

it was like cameron’s unpaid job was to put you down. pointing out any little mistake you might make—from tripping on your on two feet to dropping your books on the school's floor, cameron is there to let you know how pathetic you really were.

can’t see where you’re going? you’d think with glasses that fucking thick, you’d be able to see miles away.

you ignored him each time, continuing on with homework assignments for your next class without a word. this thing between you two had gone on since your days of high school—you couldn’t understand it. you would’ve thought after years of teasing, he’d grow tired and find someone else to pick with, but cameron’s attention remained lasered on you.

it’s your bully cameron who asks for a request from you. you’re face deep in a cell biology book when he approaches you in the reserved study room. you often found yourself in the library long after school hours, catching up on school work and spending spare time here instead of parties or social functions. you only had one best friend and didn’t do well in large gatherings. school, family, and home were your main priorities.

when cameron sits across from you at the table, you immediately note the expression on his face. he looks serious. more serious than you’ve ever seen him before. he usually held this demeanor during practice or before a big game. while part of you is annoyed, the other half is intrigued. what did he want?

cameron is the one to ask if you could tutor him throughout the week. he’d heard from classmates about the essays and homework you contributed to. you were a fucking genius and able to help almost everyone get their grades up to at least a ‘c’ average. he desperately needed to get his grades together, or he would risk being kicked off the schools football team.

you’re unsure. this was the same guy who made fun of your glasses at any chance, picked on your height and joked about your smarts. he now wanted your help?

“absolutely not.” you’re firm on your stance.

that is until—

“i’ll pay you good. whatever price you want.”

a day turned into weeks and your sessions with cameron continued. the two of you worked on a multitude of subjects. anything cameron needed help with, you were willing to provide. he made sure to pay on time before each session, and you made sure to help him receive the best grades possible. you couldn’t quite put your finger on cameron cade. he was interesting, but he remained quiet—a complete difference from the way he behaved when his friends were around. he worked, listened to what you asked of him and went back to home as usual.

at least that’s what you believed.

unbeknownst to you, cameron cade didn’t always go directly home after every study session.

it didn’t start like this initially.

cameron truly found you annoying.

your perfect hair, starched clothing and positive energy pissed him off. why were you so chipper at 9 in the goddamn morning? why did you know the answer to every question the professor asked? why did seeing your face make him so fucking angry?

he couldn’t understand it.

the one thing cameron was able to manage was his actions towards you. berating and calling out everything you did to was easier than sitting with his true feelings.

the feelings that hit cameron late at night when it was only him and his thoughts in the comfort of his bedroom. not a sound or soul around—just the whir of a nearby fan blowing throughout the room and the ache of his dick trapped behind boxer briefs.

those same thoughts made his vision blur as he imagined your frame underneath the stockings and pleated skirts you wore. he’d think of how you’d look on top of him. would you take your time and ride him slow—or be just as desperate as he’d been and ride him as wildly as you could?

it was the same thoughts that made cameron growl into the air as he came hotly—sticky white substance dripping over his chest and hand, before he washed up to imagine it all over again. maybe a different fantasy this time—one of you, and he crammed in the back seat of his car. he wouldn’t mind, cameron would find a way to make space for you.

cameron’s maladaptive daydream is interrupted as there’s a sound right outside his bedroom window. cameron lived at home with his parents as it was easier to attend school and save money at the same time. he remained in his childhood bedroom and often gazed out the window to look down on the neighbors and their current shenanigans, but it’s during this that he notices a familiar face and shape.

it’s you…

it’s you and cameron’s next door neighbor.

his neighbor lived at home with his parents, just like cameron. he also played football for the school’s rival team, so cameron has no clue as to why you’re meeting with him. he’s obviously an enemy, but you’re downstairs being best friends with him.

cameron watches as the young man hugs you goodbye and proceeds to walk to your car. you smile stupidly in his face before starting your car to drive off into the night, leaving cameron as confused as ever.

“what the fuck?”

cameron lets the time pass. he writes the interaction with you and his neighbor off as a tutoring session, believing that you wouldn’t be in any kind of relationship with someone like him. it helped put his mind at ease for just a bit.

that is, until he encounters the two of you once again.

you both were exiting a local restaurant just as cameron was crossing the street. it’s late at night and cameron is supposed to be walking the family dog, but finds himself eavesdropping on the conversation you two hold. back pressed to the brick wall of a nearby building, cameron listens carefully as you bust into genuine laughter at his neighbor’s joke.

“no, but seriously, y/n, you’re fucking amazing and i really appreciate you.”

“oh, it’s nothing,” he hears you giggle and you never giggled while you were with him. the sound of your beautiful laugh makes his chest tighten. he wished he’d been the reason for your joy. “i can’t wait to see you again. have a good night, babe.”

babe?

the pet name enrages cameron. he holds enough irritation to knock down this entire brick wall, race over, snatch you up and knock that loser the fuck out.

but cameron does nothing.

you weren’t his. he had no rights to you, no rights to behave this way towards you.

days later, cameron’s phone vibrates in his pants pocket.

it’s a text message from you.

hey, i’m sorry to cancel on you, but i won’t be able to make it today. maybe we can meetup sometime next week?

cameron’s eyes lowered as he read over the message once again. he took a deep inhale and clicked on the power button to his phone.

you and he met in the city’s library for tutoring lessons every wednesday and friday without fail. for weeks, cameron spritzed cologne over his neck and wrists, applied oil to his short hair and made sure to keep a tube of mint scented chapstick in his bookbag for…educational purposes. he absolutely looked forward to sessions with you. whether they be one-sided with only your voice speaking throughout the library or silent altogether—wednesday’s and friday’s were his favorite days of the week.

yet, you cancelled.

cameron couldn’t understand it.

are you sure? we can probably meet sometime later tonight, i really don’t to fail this upcoming exam.

cameron paces his room as he awaits a response from you, hoping his excuse doesn’t sound too desperate.

you won’t fail. we can meet up next week.

you wouldn’t budge, and cameron can’t come up with another reason.

“fuck,” he huffs, tossing his phone onto the bed. cameron takes only a second to collect his thoughts before racing to change out of his current outfit and into looser attire.

he needed to blow off some steam.

a two-hour workout session helped to clear cameron’s mind just a little, but not nearly enough. a few bench presses, a jog on the treadmill and a boxing session with a punching bag—yet he kept thinking of you and the message you’d sent earlier. part of him wanted to let you know how he felt—to tell you the resentment he held towards you was misplaced and that he didn’t know how to regulate emotions regarding you. the other half wished you could read his mind and know exactly what he wanted.

cameron passes the school’s library as he leaves the gym. had it been any other day, cameron would’ve went home as usual, but the cancellation of today’s session was getting to him. he couldn’t fucking think straight. he stopped inside and decided to take a seat at the table you and he usually sat in. cameron sorted through his bookbag and fetched textbooks for tomorrows exam, eyes darting over the words as he tried to comprehend the reading material.

you would’ve helped him to understand it.

your calm voice reading over the text before asking what did he think about it. you would’ve cracked open a notebook and wrote down important information with your black ball point pen. you would’ve taken your time and used real-world situations to compare with the homework, helping him learn everything he can before a big test.

you’re all cameron can think about.

so much so that he swears he can hear you.

it’s the same laugh he’d heard for the first time the other day, and cameron is positive he’s completely lost his mind until he sees you and his neighbor emerge from a study room. cameron hides behind the large textbook to avoid his cover being blown. he listens closely and peers from behind the spine of the book as you hug and peck the cheek of his neighbor.

cameron can only sit for so long—waiting until his neighbor has left the library to follow behind as you slip into the basement area of the building.

you don’t hear or see him—cameron makes sure to keep quiet as he tiptoes behind you, searching for words to perfectly convey his thoughts.

“what the fuck are you doing, y/n?”

there’s aggravation in his tone, and the sound of his tenor causes you to flinch—not jump, but simply raise your shoulders in surprise. you turn on the toes of your leather loafers, eyes widened in surprise at cameron cade’s presence.

“are you following me?”

cameron ignores your question. “answer me, y/n.”

“i’m minding my business, cameron, that’s what i’m doing. now answer my question, are you following me?”

cameron pushes past you to walk further into the dusty basement, brushing towards a nearby book case before he speaks. “why are you dragging this nigga all over town? smiling in his fucking face, hugging him and shit.”

“because i can, cameron. why does any of this matter to you? why are you watching my every fucking move.”

“you and that stupid motherfucker are flaunting around town, i can’t help but to see it.”

he expects you to make a run for it—for you to angrily march up the stairs and never talk to him again, but you instead hold a conversation with pinched brows on your gorgeous face. he can’t help the way his stomach whirls when he’s able to see you fully. the basement of this dusty library is dimly lit, just a flicking light bulb that sways back and forth in the corner of the room, but it helps cameron to see you.

you looked beautiful as usual, but a bit more laid back tonight. boho braids flowing around your shoulders—free from the tight bun you often wore, a small hue of blush upon your round cheeks and no glasses on your pretty face.

you weren’t wearing your glasses.

he only takes a second. brief and steady as he glances over you. “where are your glasses?”

“huh?” you squint and it’s not because you weren’t wearing said glasses. usual black frames are not on your face because you were looking for a change in appearance, at least for tonight.

“you heard me. where are your glasses, y/n?”

you’re surprised cameron picked up on it, but cameron forgot absolutely nothing when it came to you. he’s like a wolf hunting prey. he can’t miss the curls strewn through your hair, the neat pressing of your outfit or the heady scent of the perfume you’re wearing.

“and you’re wearing fucking perfume…you-you put that on for him, didn’t you?”

“who?”

“who? you tell me, y/n, who is the nigga to you?”

you’d never seen him like this. so hostile and on edge over you, but it’s at this moment that reality sets and you remember who you’re dealing with. you don’t owe him anything. not an explanation or even an excuse. you push forward and wiggle out of cameron’s intimidating stance.

“it doesn’t matter. it doesn’t matter what i do, or who i do it with, cameron. you aren’t my boyfriend, so it’s none of your business, and i think it’s best that you leave.”

you walk towards the entrance and hold the heavy door open, waiting for cameron cade to exit onto the other side of it, but he just stands in place. icy eyes peer back at you and they’re unforgiving. the only thing that diverts cameron’s attention is the sound of a notification of your phone as it pings from your book bag.

shit.

it’s a short race between you and cameron as you both rush over to grab the device. you should’ve knew better. a 6-foot behemoth was easily going to overpower you. the most athletic thing you conquered was a brisk walk up a flight of stairs to enter your favorite coffee shop.

“give me my phone, cameron!” he holds a hand outward to block the catty hits you give in attempt to get your phone back.

cameron forgets his place.

the idea of someone else having access to you made him go crazy. cameron could almost handle the thought of him not being with you, but someone else getting the pleasure of being near you was enough to drive him through a wall.

“i don’t recall this being any of your fucking business, cameron. why does it matter what i’m doing?!”

“because you’re fucking hugging and kissing him after canceling a tutoring lesson with me.”

“i was helping him study cameron—there! does that make you feel any fucking better?”

“fuck no! you’re getting fucking dressed up for him, but bailing out on me, i’m fucking pissed.” you can sense the genuine anger surging through cameron as he speaks. his usually light irises darken as they pierce into you.

“i’m sorry, cameron.”

but it’s not enough.

“nah, i need to talk to that motherfucka, i need to know something.”

“you’re going to talk to him for what, cameron? i’m confused as to how this is any of your concern. you hate me, so why are you so worried?”

you and cameron begin to tussle. he’s attempting to push past you, searching all throughout your book bag for the vibrating cell phone. you’re holding him by the arm to stay in place, but cameron’s strong—tall, big—any of the words you could think of, so you have little to no fight at this moment, being easily brushed to the side as he moves about.

it’s a last-minute effort, but the heavy smack you send to his left cheek stops him in his tracks. the inside of your palm rings, while a stinging red mark forms on the side of cameron’s face. you’re about to say something—an apology of sorts when cameron forces you to pause. he releases the tiniest surprised moan—low and trapped in the back of his throat, as you watch his dick twitch behind the confines of his shorts.

cameron is silent. pleading eyes wandering over you as he tries to understand why do you turn him on like this? your book bag and the contents inside fall to the ground once cameron drops it.

“you like that? y-you like me smacking you around?” you’re taken aback by his reaction.

cameron remains quiet, but his dick answers whatever questions you have. you can practically feel the heat radiating from it, as he grows harder, continuing to flinch around underneath his clothes.

“answer me, cameron.”

it’s like chewing glass, and cameron can’t swallow the broken pieces down fast enough to speak. he’d kept these feelings locked away for years. years of longing, aching and needing to be near you vanished into thin air from a harsh slap you’d given him. cameron can’t believe the magic you hold.

“answer me, cam,” you’re on the tips of your leather shoes, lush lips skimming across his neck as you speak. you await an answer, but only draw out another shaky moan from him. “tell me, cameron and i can help you feel better. i gotta hear you say it.”

he gulps sharply, forcing his eyelids closed as he tries to regulate. “f—fuck, fuck, yes, yes.”

you began to soften up some. smugness to your voice when you question him, finding delight in the sorrowful position you have him in.

“can i see it, cameron?”

“w-what?” he stutters. “you—you want to see me?”

cameron’s been convinced you were disgusted with his entire presence, hearing your words makes his dick stiffen more. cameron can’t think clearly, but he knows he wants this, knows he wants you to want it as well.

“let me see you, baby.”

you’ve switched—and so quickly at that. cameron’s not sure if you’ve always been like this, but starting as a timid nerd and turning into a sweet voiced domme, shakes him to his core. cameron’s willing, though. he’s happy you were into it like he was.

so cameron obeys.

untying the string to his shorts, cameron starts to fumble with the clothing items until they fall to the ends of his ankles. and the expression on your face cannot be contained—a mix of surprise and satisfaction. you expected a handsome boy like him to have a nice dick—well groomed and beautiful in color, but his length? cameron was a fairly decent size. you would rather not give him too much credit, but his umber tinted dick truly took your breath away.

“you’re big, cameron.”

“yeah?” he’s breathless as he responds.

nodding your head as you continue. “yes and you’re so pretty, you look so good, baby.”

cameron could die happily with the way you’re talking to him, his dick bobs in appreciation from the complimentary words you utter.

“show me what you can do.”

and cameron’s on it immediately, willing to do whatever he can to please you. his large hard drags over his hard dick in a fast motion, jerking along the tightened shaft without regard or concern. his eyes flick back and forth—from you and down to his piece in hand, while you watch.

“you’re rough.”

you giggle a bit as you cross over the room, taking a few steps to get closer to him, as cameron continues to jerk his dick raggedly. he’s too excited—too anxious to reach his nut, that he can hardly contain himself.

“what’s the rush? we got all the time in the world.”

cameron’s looking to you for relief, awaiting whatever you can give him to get off completely. you step beside him and attempt to reach his height from the short distance you stand, clothed breasts brushing the outside of his strong arms as you linger.

the pad of your soft thumb traces over the end of his chiseled jaw, slowly finding your way to

his bottom lip as you grin softly. “open your mouth, cam.”

you only have to ask once because cameron trusts you. he doesn’t know why, but a major part of him knows you’d get him there without a hassle. cameron’s tongue wraps around your thumb without hesitation, moaning in satisfaction at the faint smell of perfume along your skin. his eyes fall closed in satisfaction of the contact.

“drool on that dick, baby, i want you to get it wet for me.”

you pull your hand away from his lips and cameron follows the instructions, opening his mouth wide enough that an elongated string of spit hits the base of his dick without pause. it’s fucking sexy when he does it, hand holding onto a nearby bookshelf as you watch intensely. you try not to moan and only enjoy the show, but it’s almost impossible with a star football player falling apart the simple commands you give.

“do you want me to touch it, cam? want me to make you feel good?”

and it’s more than anything he’s ever wanted in his life. cameron’s skull could rattle with how fast his head shakes. you only give him a little, gentle fingertips twisting at the head of his dick while he shivers in response.

“yes—yeah, please, y/n, please.”

then you think. “but, do you deserve it? have you been good, cameron?”

cameron knows the truth—he’d been acting a fucking fool as of late, but he was here now and he was willing to try, willing to try and be good just for you.

“i can—i can be better, y/n. i can be calmer, nicer—fuck, just touch me please.”

“promise me cameron. promise you’ll be good from here on out. promise you’ll listen to me.”

he nods furiously, “yes, yes, i’ll be good, i’ll be good and i’ll do whatever you want.”

with the lubrication of his spit, you’re easily able to tug on cameron’s big dick, opposite hand finding purchase around his wide neck. you choke him softly, just enough that it takes his breath way and makes him moan at the same time.

“lift your shirt up, i wanna see you, baby, i gotta see you.”

with hardly any focus, cameron scrambles to unzip his jacket and raise his plain t-shirt like you commanded him to. your soft hand grazes the rippled skin of his abs in admiration. his skin is damp from a previous workout and the anxiety of being in your hold and you can smell it on him. the scent of his natural sweaty aroma combined with a woodsy cologne makes your pussy clench around nothing.

you wanted him.