BlkBratt

19 Here for a good time, not a long time 💕

[blkkbratt]

Alexa cue…da baddest b***h

“I’m representing for the bitches…”

Ni-Ni • 19 • BLACK • She/her

Love me some Michael Jackson

Likes anime, BTS, 70s-2000s, sims, pink

I write for my black ppl😚

M.list

Michael Jackson

Wash day(fluff)

Eater(xxx)

Perv!Bsf reader(xxx)

Just the tip(xxx)

Jermajesty Jackson

Pinky promise(xxx)

[blkkbratt]

Just the tip

contains: sexual content, sub! Michael, black reader, 2nd pov, coercion, dry humping, hint of manipulation, creampie(wrap it up guys), lowkey baby trapping (?), mention of cross necklace(religion)

Not as short as my usual; trying to better my writing so I’m a bit proud of this one; writing def inspired by a mix of my favs

The rain pattered loudly against the window pane, drops sliding against the closed glass. The sky was a dim blue, and the weather seemed dull.

Your apartment was quiet other than the slick sounds of Michael’s stiff dick grinding against your bare pussy.

He panted near your head gripping your hips like you’ll disappear from him. His heart was beating so loud he thought that even you could hear it. You would’ve, if only your heart wasn’t beating just as fast.

He was on top of you, between your legs that were splayed out against his hips. You both were bare, skin to skin, bodies warming up at each other’s touch.

Your whimpers flooded his ears as his length slid between your soft folds, tip catching your clit every so often. A light layer of sweat coated his back at his constant rhythmic movement.

“Baby—.” You whined looking up at him. You couldn’t help but clench at the sight, arousal pooling in your belly.

His cross necklace swung in your face almost brushing against your nose. His lips were parted as sensual sounds fell from them.

“F-feels too g-good.” He moaned, arms wobbly next to you as he held himself up. Every time you felt his tip nudge against your drooling hole, you couldn’t help but whine.

The request fell from your lips before you could think, brain already fuzzy. “Mikey, please—please—just the tip.” You whined hands gripping his biceps tightly.

His heart practically stopped, “B-baby w-we can’t. We said we’ll—agh—wait till marriage.” His breath picked up, fingers reaching to grip the white sheets you were laid on.

“I know baby but it’s barely inside—not the whole thing—promise.” You looked up at him, doe eyes meeting each other’s. He bit his lip contemplating on what to do. His eyes dropped to your pouty lips.

His brain wasn’t in a very logical state feeling your dripping cunt grind against him, causing him to lean more towards just putting it in. He watched as your eyebrows pinched together, lost in the ecstasy of your body melting into his.

“Mikey please, you feel so good—I need it.” The sultry tone in your words with the whine of his name almost made him nut right there. “J-just the tip?”

You nodded quickly, hips shifting in excitement from him falling to your pleas. He looked at where you were connected, breath catching at the wet and vulgar sight.

He grasped his hard dick, coated in your wetness, and brushed it up and down your folds. The mewl you let out was absolutely crude, making Michael’s desire for you grow.

As soon as you felt the heavy tip press against your dripping hole, you whined, heart speeding up. You couldn’t control the roll of your hips, body begging for him more than your own words.

He gently held your hip down so he can focus, not wanting to dip too far in. He ignored the small shame in the back of his mind, lust forefront and center in his brain.

He slowly pushed himself inside, gummy walls enclosing his tip. “M-Mikey—so big—oh my god.” You mewled. He whined, breath getting caught in his chest from your warmth.

“I l-love you—so good—rubbing in me so well.” You babbled mindlessly too caught up in the slight stretch. “Baby please don’t talk like that—I w-wanna be good.” The slight voice crack didn’t go unnoticed.

The rain sounds were background noise compared to the lewd noise of him slightly plunging his tip into you. “You are good—so good f’a me—so big.” You carried on.

“B-baby no—please—stop talking.” Michael whined hips not stopping his shallow thrusts. His words went into one ear and out of the other, brain only focusing on him rubbing inside of you.

“C-can’t—you feel so good—I-I’m so wet Mikey.” You pouted lost in your own world. Michael’s brain was starting to become clogged. Your words began to mesh together in his brain, your soft voice clouding around him.

“Your dick feels so good Mikey.” You wailed. Michael’s brain shut off at the your explicit word usage, never hearing you mutter as much of a ‘damn’.

He couldn’t control his body as he pushed all the way in, your pussy becoming a sleeve over him. His eyes rolled back and he let out the whiniest moan you ever heard from him.

You uncontrollably clenched around his length, your eyes tightly closed as you cried out. You didn’t expect the sudden sensation, feeling the deep stretch slowly simmering into pleasure.

“Baby ‘m sorry—sorry—too good.” Michael’s words tumbled out quickly, tone filled with neediness. You couldn’t even respond, mouth dropped open in a silent gasp.

“So pretty—I don’t wanna stop—squeezin’ me so good.” His hips picked up speed, his head coming down to kiss the corner of your lip. His tongue licked the small drool leaking from your mouth, and connected your lips together.

The lewd act made you clench around him, as you began moaning into his mouth. Your arms wrapped around his neck, feeling as if your bodies merged into one.

His hips continued to thrust into you, desperately. Michael only wanted you, his mind was muddled, focusing on the sounds of your pleasure and the feeling of your gooey pussy.

“My sweet angel—w-wanna feel you.” He said, his hands brought your legs up to his shoulders, shifting his hips to hit slightly deeper. Your back arched as your moans got louder.

Completely drowning out the noise outside, leaving you and Michael in your own loving sanctuary. He dug so deep, it felt like he was in your lungs. “I’m close.” You managed to choke out.

He leaned forward practically folding you in half as he drilled into you, becoming a whiny mess in your ear. “Please—cum on me—need it—need you.” He babbled as you cried out.

Tears rolled down the side of your face as you felt a ball of heat form in your stomach. He was constantly nudging your spot, only sending you farther into ascension. Your back arched with a cry as you soaked his length, nails marking his back.

“Thank you—thank you—cumming—I’m cumming.” “P-pull out Mikey.” You reminded him body shivering as he carried you through out your orgasm.

“C-can’t—need you—I wanna fill you.” He continued, your eyes widened realizing he had no intentions on stopping. “M-Mikey, no condom, you’re gonna get me pregnant.” You whined, you couldn’t stop the moans as he continued to beat into your oversensitive pussy.

“You’ll become a mommy—pretty mommy—I c-can’t. Please—take it—take my cum.” His rhythm felt relentless as your hips slapped together. His moans sounded through out the room, hips stilling in you as he shot creamy ropes of his nut inside.

You whined at the warm feeling, secretly enjoying him losing control inside of you. After a few minutes of him grinding inside of you, he slowly pulled out.

He stared at your used pussy, a mix of both of your orgasms spilling out. His mind still felt cloudy but reality began to set in.

“They’re gonna kill me.”

A/n: Wait I’m kinda gagged at myself rn🌚

[redribbonfawn]

Forgive me, Father

summary: Michael has always been so careful with you, reverent in his own way. But today, in a church pew with his family mere feet away, you decide to show him exactly what sin tastes like — and how delicious it can be. ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

warning: sexual themes, smut, 18+, very public sexual activity, religious guilt (in a hot way), crazy amount of blasphemy, handjob, loss of virginity, praise kink, brief size kink if you squint your eyes ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁

a/n: i don't even know what to say.... I’m probably going to hell with them lol <3 enjoy ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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There was something almost sanctified about the way the late-morning light poured through the stained-glass windows, bathing Michael in a soft golden halo that clung to the gentle contours of his heart-stopping features. The sun caught almost ethereally on his sun-warmed skin, turning his coiled brown hair into threads of amber, and making those delicate, doe-like eyes look like molten honey.

He was biting nervously at his plump lower lip again, the way he always did when he was trying so hard to focus, his sharp jaw tightening faintly, and the sight alone sent a slow, liquid heat pooling low in your belly.

You and your adorable boyfriend had only just begun exploring the intimate territory between you — soft, tentative touches in the dark, wandering hands, breathless grinding that left you both trembling, but never quite crossing the final line. You had always respected his hesitations. The religious upbringing ran deep in him; you could see it in the flicker of guilt that sometimes shadowed his eyes whenever desire threatened to pull him under. He was still so new to all of this, still so reverent, and God help you, you loved him for it. It made him all the more alluring and desirable. Perhaps it was the way so many men had thrown themselves at you before, so quickly, so easily, whenever the opportunity arose — but not your sweet Mikey, ever the gentleman. It was almost like you were a present he was slowly, shakily unwrapping — day by day, one soft and gentle rip of paper at a time.

Yet today, sitting beside him in the small family church not too far away from the grand Jackson estate, something had shifted inside you. It was like every small movement he made — the nervous shift of his shoulders beneath his crisp white shirt, the quiet exhale as the choir swelled, the way his long fingers flexed against his thigh — sent your thoughts spiraling to sin, here in this house of worship. Consistent heat kept rushing downward, settling heavy and insistent between your thighs, making you clench involuntarily, seeking any scrap of relief for that deep ache, as a flush crawled up your neck beneath the collar of your dress.

You should have probably felt guilty. This was holy ground. His entire family sat only two pews ahead, far enough that they wouldn’t notice, but close enough that discovery felt like a possibility. Instead, the very sanctity of the place made the hunger feel sharper, dirtier, more intoxicating. Sinful. The contrast of it all consumed you.

You smoothed your shaky hands over the long white silk dress you'd chosen, its cream color and long modest cut meant to blend seamlessly with the devout atmosphere. The sweetheart neckline edged in delicate lace hugged your breasts just enough to raise an eyebrow if someone were to stare — a delicious temptation. But the final touch was the small golden crucifix resting warm against your sun-kissed skin, dangling right in the valley of your cleavage like a dare. A contradiction. Innocent and guilty all at once.

Forgive me, Father, for I am about to sin — though the thought barely carried any remorse. With your heart fluttering against your ribs, you oh so subtly let your thigh nudge closer to his right beneath the wooden pew. The contact was innocent enough on the surface — just the gentle press of silk against the fine black wool of his Sunday slacks. But the shiver that raced up your spine told you everything. You felt him tense beside you, the muscle in his leg jumping under your touch. It was almost like he knew exactly what trap you were setting.

Michael's breath caught in his throat.

The sermon had only just begun, the priest’s voice steady and familiar through the church — but today it felt distant, softened, almost submerged. He tried — he really tried — to focus on the words, on the familiar hymns, on anything other than the warm, living heat of your thigh pressed so deliberately against his. But you looked so undeniably stunning in that dress, your curves barely contained by the “modest” fabric. He’d spent nights imagining what lay beneath it — your skin, your wetness, the taste of you. He’d imagined you writhing beneath him, above him, calling out his name in a way that would make God himself blush. The more you two touched, the harder it became to hold onto his holy thoughts — waiting before marriage, staying pure, all the teachings that had been drilled into him since childhood. The small thread keeping him from taking everything was fraying, breaking, about to snap entirely.

You slowly, with intent, moved your hand from your own lap and found it resting on his thigh, still displaying that innocent look for anyone who might glance over, then began sliding higher — fingertips tracing tiny teasing circles dangerously close to his zipper. His world began to crumble immediately.

Michael's eyes widened, cheeks flushing hot with a pink hue. He closed his eyes, exhaling deeply in an attempt to regain control, but it was already too late. From the moment you touched him, blood rushed hot and fast downward. The small touch making him acutely aware of how hard he was getting, the growing bulge becoming painfully obvious beneath the thin barrier of clothing. Along with the arousal came that insistent shame, curling tight in his chest, torn in a relentless battle with desire — the same battle that had come up many times before during your sensual endeavors. It made his pulse thunder in his ears. From the very first time he felt you like that — slick and desperate against his jeans — he knew he couldn’t resist. But he had promised the Lord he would try.

When he dared glance at you, he almost choked. You looked the picture of perfect innocence — eyes forward, your other hand resting gently in your lap, that golden crucifix rising and falling gently with your calm breathing. The sight of the small pendant between your breasts only made everything worse. His gaze lingered a second too long, eyes tracing the delicate chain and how it lay against the soft swell of your cleavage, before he caught himself and jerked his eyes back to the altar.

You could see it written all over his face: pure, unholy desire. So you did what any good girlfriend would do and moved your hand up and closer, fingers stopping just above the tent in his pants before softly palming him through the fabric. Michael had to stifle the whimper that threatened to escape, both his hands grabbing the edge of the wooden bench so hard his knuckles pulling taut. His breathing came shallow and uneven.

You couldn't help the soft little giggle that escaped you — barely audible, just for him. Then you leaned in, slow and casual as if simply adjusting your position, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin.

“You’re so hard for me already, baby,” you whispered, your voice low and sweet beneath the organ music. “Right here in God’s house. Does it feel sinful, my angel?” You paused, letting your hand move slightly. “But you like it, don’t you? Don’t want me to stop?"

A soft, broken sound nearly escaped him at your words. He bit down hard on his lower lip, eyes fluttering shut. In this holy place, with his family mere feet away, being touched by you like this — it was the most sinful, exquisite torture. Every nerve ending screamed for more even as his conscience warred against it.

Your palm pressed harder, rubbing up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm.

Michael's hand found yours, but he didn't push you away. Instead, he covered it with his own, holding it there, pressing it down against the hardness beneath his slacks. When his eyes met yours, they were dark and glassy with conflict — shame burning bright, but desire burning brighter. The look he gave you was raw, pleading, almost like you were his sin made flesh and the answer to his prayer all at once.

He didn't need to speak. The understanding passed between you in that single, loaded glance.

Don't stop. Please don't stop.

Then, with a boldness that made your own breath catch, you slowly pulled the zipper down and slipped your hand beneath the waistband of his pants and underwear, your fingers wrapping around his thick bare length. The contact was electric. So many nights you’d wondered how he would feel like this — warm skin, no barrier between you. Your mouth watered at the thought of tasting him, of feeling him come undone on your tongue. If you weren’t surrounded by his family and the other people nearby, you would have done it right then and there.

Michael’s entire body went rigid. His jaw clenched so hard you thought he might break his teeth, his head tilting back at the sheer pleasure of your touch before he caught himself. He quickly pulled his head back down, remembering where he was, trying desperately to act normal. But the pleasure spilled through in one hand gripping the pew while the other found your thigh, holding on like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. A strangled whimper caught in his throat — so close to escaping, so desperately held back.

The feel of his large hand against your thigh made you let out a small whimper, the sound eliciting a twitch from his cock. You couldn’t resist anymore. The need to touch him, to really feel him, was overwhelming. So you began moving your hand slowly, dragging up and down, feeling him throb against your palm. His breathing came in short, shallow gasps. His thighs trembled beneath his slacks.

“Shh,” you whispered, your lips still at his ear. “Gotta stay quiet for me, baby. Be a good boy for me and I’ll make it feel even better.”

He nodded, barely, his eyes squeezed shut so tight his lashes trembled against his cheeks. Sweat beaded at his temple. He was already getting closer — the way his cock twitched in your hand, the way his hips were trying so desperately not to thrust up into your grip. He’d been wound up all through the service, and now with your bare hand on him along with your dirty words, it was only a matter of time.

Your hand began moving faster, stroking him with purpose, feeling the way his entire body shook with the effort of staying silent.

“That’s it,” you murmured, sweet and filthy all at once. “S’good for me, let it all go baby.”

His breathing hitched. His hand gripped your thigh so hard you were sure it would leave marks. With a final, strangled exhale that he managed to suppress into barely a whisper — he came.

Hot, thick spurts of cum coating your hand and the inside of his pants. His cock pulsed and twitched in your grip, each contraction sending another wave through him. His whole body went tense, trembling with the force of it, his face flushed deep crimson, his eyes rolling back for just a fraction of a second before he forced them open again.

You kept moving your hand gently through it, drawing out every last pulse, every final shudder. “That’s my good boy,” you whispered, so tender it made the sin of it all feel even deeper. “So so perfect, all for me.”

When the tide of pleasure washed over him, you slowly, carefully withdrew your hand. He was shaking — actually shaking — beside you, his breathing still ragged, his mind clearly somewhere far away from the priest's sermon.

You looked down at your hand, glistening with his release, then deliberately wiped it across the white silk of your dress — a visible stain, a secret mark of what you’d just done to him in the house of God.

Michael’s eyes widened when he saw it, shame and arousal warring across his features in equal measure. But even overwhelmed, coming down from the euphoric feeling, he still reached for you — the sweet and loving side of him falling back into place like it always did. He pressed a shaky kiss to your cheek, his voice trembling. “You’re everything to me. Everything.” Tender but desperate, like he needed you to know even as he was unraveling.

He grabbed the other hand that had been laying in your lap and gently placed a kiss on it, the gesture both sweet and urgent. Butterflies formed immediately at his still-sweet touch — a true contrast to the way his body had just trembled against you.

You knew this was far less than what you wanted. The thought of having all of him inside you made your core ache. You understood what this moment was: finally tasting a fruit once forbidden. So when you leaned in close and whispered against his ear, the words came out naturally, almost on instinct. “I don’t think we’re finished yet, Mikey.”

His entire body went still. His eyes widened, pupils dilating as the implication hit him. A soft, barely audible whimper escaped him before he could catch it.

You felt the way he trembled beside you, the way his hand instinctively reached for your thigh again. You squeezed his hand gently, like a silent promise of what was to come.

The service continued around you both as if nothing had happened. As if the two of you hadn’t just crossed a line in the most sacred of places.

You silently thanked the Lord for the fact that the service ended only minutes later. But for Michael, he had spent those minutes in absolute agony — hyperaware of the wet spot in his pants, the smell of sex clinging to him, the way your dress now bore the evidence of what you’d done. And what you had implied with your words of not being done yet. He kept his legs tightly together, kept his jacket pulled down low, prayed — actually prayed this time — that no one would notice.

When the sermon ended and his family stood to leave, he rose with them, moving stiffly to keep the wet patch hidden.

“Michael, darling,” his mother called as they filed out of the pew into the aisle. “Will you both be joining us for lunch?”

He glanced at you, seeing the slight smile playing at the corners of your mouth. The crucifix gleamed between your breasts in the afternoon light, your hand subtly covering the faint stain on the white silk of your dress — a secret only he knew.

“Actually, mother, we were thinking of grabbing a bite just the two of us,” he said, his voice steady despite the heat crawling up his neck. “I promised to take her somewhere special.”

His mother smiled warmly, patting his cheek. “Of course, sweetheart. You two have fun.”

She waved at you, and you waved back, playing the part of the perfect daughter-in-law.

Michael could barely look her in the eyes. The shame was suffocating — but so was the anticipation of what was coming next.

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The short walk to the parking lot felt eternal — every small thing magnified: fingers and hands brushing against each other, the comfortable silence layered with nervousness hanging thick in the summer air. You waited for the parking lot to clear completely before leaving, and when you finally reached his car, Michael opened the door for you before hurrying to the driver's side.

Just as he sat down, you were about to ask where you were going, but the words never came. He grabbed your face gently and pulled you into a kiss, almost dragging you to straddle his lap in the front seat. His large warm hands hiked your white dress up around your waist. His desperation shook you — you hadn't expected this from him, not yet. The boldness of it made heat rush through you, a smile spreading against his lips.

The kiss deepened as his tongue brushed the corner of your mouth before you let him in without hesitation, tongues intertwining. You ground down on his already hardened cock, the wet spot of his slacks mixing with the slick wetness of your panties.

You pulled apart, resting your forehead against his. "Baby..." Michael broke away, moving toward your neck and leaving wet little kisses that sent goosebumps across your arms. You grabbed his shoulders gently, pulling away again, your eyes interlocking with his warm brown ones.

"Michael," you said, a bit more sternly but still sweet. A small concerned look crossed his face, almost like he was scared he'd misstepped.

"W-what? Did I do something wrong, angel?"

"No, no baby. It's just... before we get carried away — do you want to do this here, Mikey? Are you sure?"

Michael didn't hesitate. His expression shifted entirely, becoming certain, almost hungry. "Please," he breathed, almost like a confession. "I don't want to wait anymore. I need— please, angel."

His bold, pleading words made your body react, grinding against his pants. Finally, a moan free of worry escaped his mouth, filling your ears like sweet music. He thrust up against you, helpless, craving more. So you helped him by pulling him into another kiss, his hands gentle against your hips before squeezing moments later.

As the kiss deepened, your hand moved down and feverishly pulled at his zipper, along with his slacks and underwear, the fabric bunching up and pooling at his thighs. His hardness sprang free, hitting against his navel — sensitive and eager, precum soaking the reddish-brown tip.

You paused, the moment suspended, looking down at him with genuine admiration. "You're so big, baby," you breathed, almost to yourself. You'd always felt it through the different fabrics, but seeing him like this was completely different. The sunbeams streaming through the car windows painted everything in a dreamlike haze, turning him into something almost too beautiful to look at.

Michael's entire face went crimson. He looked away immediately, his ears burning red, a bashful whimper escaping him. "I'm serious, angel," you said softly, running your fingers along his length, spreading the slick precum over his flushed cock with your thumb. Every vein, every twitch beneath your fingers made your own arousal throb between your legs.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered shut at the compliment and touch combined. "So pretty too."

A small embarrassed sound — a mix of a moan and whine — left his glazed lips. His hand gripped your hips like they were a lifeline.

"Angel… please," Michael whispered, voice hoarse and cracking with need. "Thought about this so many times. Y'have no idea." The confession tumbled out with an embarrassed edge, that sweet Gary accent slipping through before he could catch it, but the desperation was unmistakable.

You could only smile, heart fluttering, kissing the corner of his mouth, then his flushed cheek. "S'time to make it real then, baby."

You carefully shifted higher on your knees, pulling your soaked panties to the side with one hand while the other guided his thick head through your slick folds, teasingly soaking his hardness in your wetness. He twitched upward, craving more, a pained expression crossing his face. "N-need more," he whimpered.

You answered him in a sultry voice. "Of course, my angel."

The moment his cock kissed your entrance, you both moaned — the sound amplified in the small space of the car.

Michael's eyes flew open wide, his warm brown gaze locking onto yours with raw, stunned intensity. His lips parted in a silent gasp as you sank down just an inch, letting him stretch you open. His head fell back against the seat with a broken groan that moved through his whole chest.

"Oh god… angel—" His voice cracked, deep and wrecked. His fingers dug hard into your hips, not guiding you, just holding on as he adjusted to the feeling of you. His thighs trembled beneath you, muscles flexing involuntarily as he fought to stay still.

You eased down another inch. A high, needy whimper escaped his throat — almost embarrassed by how desperate it sounded. His face was hot, sweat already beading at his hairline. His eyes fluttered shut for a second before forcing themselves open again, like he didn't want to miss a single moment of watching you take him.

"Oh my god," he breathed shakily, chest heaving. "You’re so warm. So wet. S'too much, lord." His words dissolved into another low, guttural moan as you sank further, his cock twitching hard inside you, thick and pulsing against your walls.

One of his hands slid gently up your back before fisting the fabric of your dress — holding on, and holding back, all at once.

"You can touch me, Mikey," you murmured, almost an order, almost a plea. "I want you to. Please."

His hands didn't hesitate before roaming restlessly — squeezing your waist, sliding down to grip your ass, sliding under your dress to cup your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples until you shivered. Hands moving from place to place, desperate and wondering, like he couldn't settle on just one part of you.

His name slipped from your mouth like a prayer. "Mikey…"

His hips gave a small, helpless twitch upward at the sound of it. So you finally lowered yourself completely, arms laced around his neck, taking him to the hilt.

A deep and desperate whimper slipped from him, his whole body shuddering, fogging the car windows even more.

His mouth found your lips, kissing you lovingly before moving down to your neck, sucking and licking messily — almost as if he debated whether to mark you or simply taste you.

He tipped forward, forehead pressing against your shoulder as you began moving slowly, up and down. He panted heavily. "You feel… incredible," he whispered hoarsely, voice thick with emotion and lust. "Better than I ever imagined. Y'squeezin' me so tight, baby… I— I don't know how long I can last like this."

He looked the picture of a perfect mess, completely undone already: lips swollen and parted, eyes glassy and half-lidded with pleasure, cheeks burning red. The shy, gentle Michael was barely hanging on, replaced by someone trembling with overwhelming need beneath you.

You rolled your hips experimentally, grinding down in a slow circle, and the moan that tore out of him was pure bliss. Encouraged, you began to ride him properly — rising and sinking, your hands braced on his broad shoulders. The car filled with the wet sounds of your bodies meeting, soft gasps, and his increasingly needy whimpers.

Every time you dropped down, his cock hit that perfect spot inside you, sending sparks up your spine. Michael's hands kept wandering before settling on your ass, squeezing as he guided you in the rhythm he craved.

"Ngh, y'feel so good, angel. Like heaven," he breathed, head falling back against the seat, lips caught between his teeth as a whimper threatened to escape.

You leaned in closer, lips brushing his ear. "No, uh, Mikey. Let me hear you. I wanna hear how good you're doing for me."

A wrecked sound escaped him — half-moan, half-sob — and his hips started thrusting up to meet you, chasing more friction. The shy, hesitant man you'd known just hours ago was gone, replaced by someone unraveling beneath you, lost in the heat and closeness.

Knowing he was already getting so close, you snaked your hand down, rubbing your clit in circles as you picked up the pace. Michael looked down at the way your bodies were intertwining, his cock twitching at the sight of you pleasuring yourself on him.

Then, bravely and gently, he moved your hand away, replacing your touch with his own slender fingers, mimicking the exact same pattern and speed you'd been using. That same look of focus you'd seen when he was determined to finish a song — brow furrowed, jaw set — now fixed entirely on you. You couldn't help but roll your head back and moan.

"Y-you're such a fast learner, baby. Look at you, already knowing exactly what to do," you cooed.

“Oh God," he gasped at your praise, his other hand on your ass pulling you down harder, faster, his hips thrusting up to meet you, all restraint gone. The sweetness and tenderness were still there in his movements, but pure need was overtaking them.

"You feel so— I can't—" he started, voice breaking.

"I know, baby," you cooed, riding him with purpose, feeling the way he was already close, just like you. The skill of his fingers was making you see stars, your eyes half-lidded, almost drunk on him. "Mikey… don't stop. I'm so close. You feel so good stretchin' me."

He whimpered at your words, pulling your hips down even harder, his thrusts becoming more frantic and less controlled, all while keeping that same pace with his fingers. His face was flushed, his eyes squeezed shut, his mouth open as little sounds — whimpers, gasps, broken attempts at words — fell from his lips.

"God, yes," you moaned loudly.

Michael called on all his strength not to finish right then, wanting to watch you come undone on him first. "Please," he breathed out, almost desperately. "Angel, I'm so close... you're so tight around me, so perfect… please, I just need to feel you come around me first. Please, angel."

The plea in his voice, along with his touch and his thrust, made something deep inside you give way. You picked up the pace, riding him with renewed intensity, chasing your own high.

"Michael, yes, yes," you cried out as your body reached the tipping point. Your orgasm rolled through you like a wave, your whole body going taut as you gripped the fabric of his shirt, curses mixed with his name escaping your mouth.

It was too much for Michael. Watching your pleasure wash over you from his touch alone, while he was inside you, seeing how desperate you'd been for him — it undid him completely.

His hands gripped your waist and he took over, thrusting up into you with a new kind of urgency, his eyes never leaving your face. He lasted maybe three more thrusts before he followed you over the edge, coming so hard he swore he saw heaven — swore he felt God in that moment, in the way you were falling apart around him, in the absolute perfection of having you completely undone because of him.

"F-fuck… angel," he breathed, the rare curse falling from his lips like it surprised even him. Soft praises fell from your lips as you watched his eyes shut and his face contort with pleasure, wave after wave moving through him. You wished you could hold onto this image forever — wanted nothing more than to watch pleasure ride over him again and again until the end of time.

"Holy—" he let out, breaking off into a moan as his final release left him, his entire body still shaking with the intensity of it.

A beat of silence. Heavy pants and thick, warm atmosphere as you both sat there in the steamed-up car, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. You felt him go soft inside you, the mix of him and your wetness pooling at the base of his cock.

Michael let out a deep exhale, something releasing in him, before looking up at you. The look in his eyes was like you hung the moon just for him, pupils wide as they met yours, his pearly whites showing through a soft, dazed smile. He laughed softly as he grabbed your face with both hands, thumbs moving in slow, tender circles against your cheeks.

"I love you so much, sweet angel."

You leaned in, lips grazing his. "I love you too, Mikey."

You pulled him into a kiss that said everything the words couldn't.

He broke away, whispering against your skin, the smile evident in his voice despite the tiny fragment of guilt threading through it. "We're going to Hell."

You laughed, soft and warm. "Probably. But at least we'll go together."

[nanapeachy]

FACE DOWN, ASS UP

𝜗ৎ contains. black!reader, oral sex, doggystyle, squirting.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in orange and pink as Jaafar led you through the beach in Rome, where they were vacationing in. Jaafar had planned this surprise getaway to some resort where the both of could relax after the stress in both of your lives, especially Jaafar’s.

He glances over to you as he admired the way the light catches in your hair. A small smile plays at the corner of his lips when he notices the joyful sparkle in your eyes.

“Having fun yet?” He asked, reaching out to intertwine his fingers with yours. His thumb gently stroking the softness of your hand, a tender gesture.

“I can’t believe you planned all of this in such a short time” you said pressing yourself to his side as you continued to walk. “Like something out of a fairytale”

Jaafar’s expression softens, his brown eyes shimmering with adoration. He brought your joined hands together to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Well anything for you” He murmured and smiled.

As you both continued your stroll, he suddenly stopped. “Wanna head back to the hotel?”

“Yeah let’s head back” you agreed softly, and he immediately grabbed your hand, hell he was damn near dragging you as if he was craving something and you definitely know what was going through his mind.

The short walk to the hotel seemed to stretch on forever, the tension between them slowly turning into some unspoken desire. As soon as they arrived, Jaafar didn’t hesitate to pull you closer by the waist, one large hand splaying across your lower back of your sundress.

“You're so beautiful” he whispered, his brown eyes roaming over your curves, drinking in every detail. His other hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing over your cheekbones before leaning in, lowering himself to your mouth into a kiss. It starts slow and sensual but quickly turns heated.

You melt into the kiss, parting your lips to grant Jaafar deeper access. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pressing your body against his.

A breathy moan escapes you as his tongue delves into your mouth, stroking along yours in a sensual dance. “Mhm, jaafar” you gasp when you finally break apart for air, your chest heaving. Your fingers toyed with the short hairs at his nape.

“What you thinking about?” you asked as you took a step back, slowly and teasingly shrugging the straps of your sundress off your shoulders and the dress sliding down effortlessly, revealing your braless top, only wearing black panties, his favourite pairs.

“What am i thinking about? Well..maybe I am thinking about the way I am gonna have you bent over every surface” He murmured as he took a step closer, his hands coming to rest on your hips, walking with your backwards towards the bed, not breaking eye contact till your thighs hit the edge of the bed. With a firm push to the bed, he urges you.

“Face down, ass up.” He watched as your back hit the bed with a soft gasp before doing as he told you to do, your face pressed on the pillows and your back arched.

“Like this?” You asked as you turned to look at him, your lashes batting at him and he cursed under his breath, running his palm on your ass cheek.

“Take them off and keep your legs spread” He commanded as he backed off a little, already unzipped his slacks along with his boxers as he watched you reach behind to slid your thong off to your ankle.

“Just like that” Jaafar said approvingly, moving closer as his large hands kneaded the flesh, fingers sinking into your skin as he spreads your cheeks apart. The display of your dripping pussy made his cock throb while he took a moment to admire your glistening folds.

Unable to hold back any longer, he leans down and runs his tongue along your folds in one long stroke, savouring your taste, circling his tongue around your clit before sucking on it.

“a-ahh..fuckkk” You moaned against the pillow, shamelessly grinding your ass into his face before he pulled away and you whined at the feeling of emptiness. His chin was glistening with your juices, didn’t bother wiping it off and sat up on his knees and pulling you closer, arching your back even more and your face buried on the pillow.

Jaafar gripped the base of his cock, giving it a few slow strokes while smearing the pre cum around before positioning himself at your entrance, teasing his tip between your slick folds and coating himself in your juices.

You whimpered needily, your whole body trembling with anticipation as you felt the head of Jaafar’s cock nudging at your entrance. You pushed your hips back desperately trying to get him inside but he continued teasing you.

“Please Jaafar, just put it in” You begged shamelessly, your voice cracking with desperation. With a chuckle, Jaafar leaned forward, whispering. “That’s right, keep begging” Jaafar urged his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt with one thrust.

“Fuuuuck, you feel incredible” he groans, his hips twitching reflexively as he fights the urge to start pounding into you immediately.

Gripping your hips, Jaafar sets a gentle pace to let you get used to him before picking up, slamming into you over and over as he watched your ass jiggle against him.

“J-jaafar” you whimpered, gripping the sheets as you buried your face into the pillow.

He leaned over your sweaty back, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting that spot that always sent you over the edge. One hand snaked around to palm your bouncing breast, pinching and tugging your nipples that made you arch more into him.

“That's it baby, take it” he pants harshly in your ear, his hot breath fanning over your neck. “This is what you wanted, right?” He panted as he slammed into you, increasing his speed.

You threw your head back, meeting his thrusts and his cock pistoning in and out, sending shockwaves into your body. “Y-yesss just like that” you moaned, burying your face into the pillow to muffle your moans but Jaafar grabbed the back of your neck. “I wanna hear you” He whispered as his other hand ran across your ass, landing a soft smack across it, his pelvis grinding against your ass.

Drool trickles from the corner of your mouth, tears of leaking from your eyes due to the intense pleasure. “Fuck me harder, jaafar. gosh, make me yours” you babble incoherently, lost to the sensation of being filled to and stretched by his cock.

Lewd and squelching noises fill the room as Jaafar pounded into you, the coil of incoming orgasm tighten in your core and your walls tighten against him. “You gonna cum?” Jaafar asked lowly, hand still at the back of your neck as you nodded eagerly.

The headband banged against the wall from all the slamming, the wood creaking at the erratic movements. “That’s it baby, cum for me” Jaafar groaned, his hand leaving from the back of your neck and snaking down to your clit, rubbing it as it added more to your already tense pleasure.

He also felt his own release coming faster as his balls were drawing up tight. “O-ooh god, oh god” you moaned loudly, gripping the sheets even tighter as the stimulation sends you over the edge and began gushing around his pistoning cock, wetting his crotch and thighs.

Through the haze of your own orgasm, you register Jaafar’s own release, feeling his cock swell and pulse inside of you before cumming inside of you.

His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your hip hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks as he holds you in place, ensuring every last drop of his release floods inside of you, not pulling out yet.

You were completely spent as you collapsed onto the bed, Jaafar managed to turn you to the side, next to you and grabbing you close to him, his cock still nestled deep inside of you.

“Don’t move, you feel so good like this”

requests are open.

MASTERLIST

[nanapeachy]

SCREWIN’

𝜗ৎ contains. plug!jermajesty, weed usage, foul language, oral sex, car sex

“you aight?” jermajesty asked as you entered his car by the passenger seat and he was just grinding up some weed in his weed grinder. “is that the good stuff you talkin’ bout?” you asked while watching him as he put the finished grinded weed into the paper and rolling it up “that shit strong as hell, just warning ya” He chuckled as he glanced at you, His brown eyes wandering on you for some moments before he focused back on finishing the weed.

“you still charging 20 bucks for that stuff?” you questioned him while making yourself comfortable on the passenger seat. “mhm but assuming it’s you, you prolly broke as hell” Jermajesty laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes.

For a moment you watched him, There was something oddly calming about it, the concentration in his expression and the carefulness of it, the way he seemed at ease and tongue sticking out in concentration. When he finished, he grabbed his lighter, burning around a little before lightening it and taking the first drag, slow and deep before puffing it out slowly.

“I mean you still gotta come up with sum cuz i still ain’t got nun of that money you owe me three weeks ago..unless you wanna suck me off or sum” He joked as he passed you the joint.

you raised your brow, surprised. “hm, you for real?” you asked him serious, clearly he was being playful and you didn’t seem to catch on.

He looked at you with surprise and amusement in his eyes. “Damn, you can't even tell that I'm just playin' shawty?” He chuckled and shook his head. “I mean shiiit, if you down for that then I’m all about that. ain’t got head inna whole while” Jermajesty said as he watched you puff the smoke in and then out again before you handed it back to him.

He slightly shifted in his seat, adjusting himself as a growing bulge was forming under his baggy jeans. “Well?” He raised his brow, quite literally waiting as the joint rested between his fingers while he leaned back.

You bit your lips, eyeing the bulge straining against Jermajesty’s jeans. The scent of his arousal mixed with the weed filled the space of the car. Feeling bold, you reached out and palmed his hardening length through the denim, giving it a firm squeeze.

A low grown escaped his lips as you groped his clothed erection. His hips bucking into your hand, seeking more friction. “Fuck..you playin’ with me”

With the other hand, he reached down to undo his belt and zipper, freeing his erect cock out of his boxers as he lifted himself up a little to pull his jeans down.

“come on then, show me what that pretty mouth can do” His voice low as he took another deep drag from the joint before placing it away. He stroked himself slowly, smearing the precum along his dick as he waited for you to make a move before he adjusted his seat so you could reach more.

Without hesitation you leaned down, glossy lips wrapping around the tip, swirling your tongue around it and savouring the salty and sweet taste. Slowly you started to taking him deeper, lips stretching around his girth as inch after inch disappeared into your mouth.

“Mhm..” you moaned around him, bopping your head slow at first, your hand resting on his thighs as you angled yourself into a position that was comfortable in this tight space.

“Ohhh fuuuck yesss...” Jermajesty groaned deeply, his head falling back against the headrest as your wet mouth engulfed his throbbing cock. His fingers tangled in your curly hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him off with enthusiasm.

“so good with that tongue..Shit just like that” He panted as he thrusted his hips shallowly, fucking your face with short and quick strokes. “you gon’ make me bust quick if you keep that up” he groaned once again as his grip tightened in your hair.

The filthy sounds of gagging filled the air as you deep throated him again and again, drool escaping the corners of your stretched lips and dripping down your chin, relaxing your throat as you took him till your nose was buried to his pubes.

After a moment, you pulled back slowly, dragging your lips along his cock until only the tip remained between them. You flicked your tongue rapidly over his slit, making eye contact with him before opening wide again and sinking back down, sucking harder and with quicker pace, determined to make him cum.

“Fuckkkkk, don’t stop” Jermajesty’s voice was strained, his eyes closed as he was at the brink of release. Your skilled mouth and the erotic sight of you looking at him as you sucked him off pushed him to the edge.

He cried out, the orgasm hitting him like a fast train passing by, holding your head in place, grinding into your face as he came in your mouth, down your throat, his cock pulsing and twitching before he removed his hand from your head and leaned his head back on the headrest, his eyes rolling as a string of curses left his mouth while you milked him dry.

You slowly pulled your mouth off of his cock, sitting up as you swallowed, licking around your lips and wiping your mouth.

“Holy shit..I ain’t got a head like this in a long while” Jermajesty said, turning to look at you, eyes slightly reddened from the weed and the aftermath. “Since you were so generous, lemme return the favour, doll”

“Mhm but you ain’t have to-“ “Backseat. Now” Jermajesty said as his eyes wandered down your body, biting his bottom lip and you immediately obeyed, feeling a slap against your asscheeks.

“off with ‘em” He said pointing towards your clothes and of course once again, you obeyed. Slowly you took your top off then reached behind to unhook your bra before putting it aside.

Jermajesty watched you strip, jaw tightening as he watched you strip. He didn’t say anything for a second, eyes not moving from your body and every movement you made.

When everything was off, he climbed out of the car, closing the door, before getting into the backseat as your back was now on the car door and your legs spread. “Like what you see?” You asked as you reached down, slowly circling your clit with your fingers, moaning softly.

“Yeah, I’m definitely liking what I see.” He reached out, his large hands gripping your hips firmly, his thumbs digging into your skin as he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, the scent of weed and musk clinging to his skin. He reached down, removing your fingers from your clit as he replaced it with his fingers, rubbing your folds and then removed them, leaning down as he held your legs open and didn’t hesitate to bury his face between your thighs.

Jermajesty let out a sharp inhale, taking in your scent before his tongue flicked out, tasting the slick coating your folds.

“Already so soaking wet, hm?” He murmured against your skin before he swirled his tongue around your clit and then sucking it while his hand moved up, his fingers spreading your folds wider.

He used his hands to pull your legs even wider, pinning your knees back against the seat cushions so he could get a better angle. “I can taste how much you want this,” he mumbled against your skin, his breath hot before he sucked firmly and his tongue flicking against your pussy.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back slight arching off the leather seat. “O-oh, shiiit” you cried out as you held into his short curls and holding him in place.

The wet sounds of him eating you out filled the car as he ate you out like he didn’t have a proper meal in days. Each tongue stroke sent shivers through your body. He pulled off, sitting up as he licked his lips. You whined at the loss of contact but it soon turned into a moan when he pushed your knees further down to your chest, folding you nearly in half, stroking his cock that was still out and rubbing it all over your folds.

With a grin, Jermajesty lined himself up, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. He teased you for a moment, rubbing the tip through your slick folds and coating himself in your juices. “Beg for it. Let me hear how badly you need this dick.”

You whined as you begged shamelessly. “P-please, Maj..put it in” your hips bucking for friction as his tip rubbed up and down your folds.

The desperation in your voice made him give him as he pushed forward, his cock stretching you open as you gripped into the seat, closing your eyes and moaning.

He gave you a moment to adjust, his hands moving to put your legs in his shoulders to reach deeper into you. “Fuck..hold on” He said as he panted when you clenched around him.

His hips snapped forward, driving into you deeper, the car slightly rocking and the windows immediately fogging up. “This what you wanted, huh? To get split open on my dick?” Jermajesty panted harshly, sweat forming on his brow from the exertion. He angled his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every deep stroke.

“Y-yes, fuck yes” You whimpered, your back arching off the leather seat that clung to your sweaty skin, drool leaking from the corner of your open mouth, eyes rolling back as he set a faster pace, hitting that special spot that made you see stars.

Jermajesty moved your legs in a different position, putting each one on his shoulders, the new position allowing him to make eye contact with you, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you lightheaded.

Your pussy clenched around his dick, growing tighter and wetter as the juices were already coating around and your climax approaching rather fast. “M-maj, don’t stop please done stop” you choked out, tears rolling down and voice muffled as he added more pressure to your throat before releasing it and then leaning down to kiss you.

Jermajesty moaned against the kiss as his thrusts became erratic, his own release approaching fast once again. Your whole body tensed, your abdomen tightened as the tension in your core finally snapped and your orgasm crashing down on you, very intense.

“Where do you want me to cum?” He asked as he panted and you moaned. “I’m on the pills”

He buried himself, taking root inside of you, his cock pulsing as he came deep inside, painting your insides with cum. “Fuckkkk” He said leaning forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck while his body above you shuddered, grinding against you to draw out the climax.

As the intensity ended, Jermajesty pulled his softening cock out, combined fluids dripping down to your thighs. He sat back, breathing as he admired the sight of you.

“Look at this mess we made though. You look good like this, all fucked out and pretty” He said already exhausted before he reached forward to roll the windows down a little to air out the fogged up windows, sweat, sex and weed air at once.

“So…do I still gotta pay?” You asked grabbing your clothes to wear while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his pants.

“Well..yeah, I only needed a reason to fuck you”

MASTERLIST

[oneflyho]

the hills ;

pairing(s): jermajesty x black f!reader

genre: smut!! (mdni), jealous boyfriend, short story.

warnings: smut (mdni), jermajesty is older (reader is only 5 years younger.) toxic! jermajesty, mean!jermajesty (still loves you), explicit language, aggressive behavior, rough car sex, jermajesty is possessive. fingering, choking, spanking, arguing, jermajesty has a big dick! p in v, no protection, creaming & squirting. spit as lube, oral sex, spit kink, degrading kink, praising kink, overall freaky as fuck. <3

summary: YOU and jermajesty had been fighting and ignoring each other for a whole week straight. the silence was heavy and the tension was thick in the house. neither of you wanted to be the first to break. eventually, you got tired of the arguing and the cold shoulders, and decided to get dressed up and sneak out to a party to let off some steam without him knowing.

— THE music was loud and the lights were low. you danced close with other guys, grinding and moving freely like you didn’t have someone waiting at home. you felt eyes on you the whole time. when you turned around, there he was, jermajesty pushing through the crowd, eyes dark with jealousy and rage. he didn’t say a word to the guy you were dancing on. he just snatched him up and started swinging until the guy hit the floor.

before you could react, jermajesty grabbed your wrist tight and dragged you out of the party. “let me go!” you yelled, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm. he walked up to the car & shoved you into the passenger seat and slammed the door, pulling off fast.

“you think this shit is cute?” he snapped, voice sharp as he drove. “dancing all up on other niggas like i wouldn’t know? i been watching your location the whole night.”

“maybe if you wasn’t ignoring me for a whole week i wouldn’t have to do shit like this!” you shot back, still heated. “you been acting distant as hell, jermajesty. i needed to get out the house.”

he laughed without any humor. “get out the house? that’s what you call throwing your ass on the next nigga? you mine. stop playing with me before i really lose it.”

the argument went back and forth the whole drive, voices loud and sharp, until he swerved into a dark abandoned parking lot behind an old warehouse. no lights, no people, just the two of you and thick tension. he killed the engine, reached over, and yanked you into the backseat.

“get over here right now.” he growled, hands already pushing your dress up to your waist. you tried pushing his chest but he caught your wrists. “you really thought you could play me tonight?”

“maybe i should let somebody else have me since you been acting so cold,” you spat, still angry but feeling that familiar heat between you.

his eyes flashed. “say that shit again.” one hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your breath catch. with the other he ripped your panties to the side and spit on his fingers before shoving two of them deep inside of you. he pumped them slow then fast, curling them right against that spot that made your toes curl. “this pussy still get wet for me though, don’t it? talking all that shit but you’re still soaking my fingers like a slut.”

you moaned, hips moving against his hand. “fuck… jermajesty—”

“nah, say it right.” he added a third finger, stretching you while his thumb circled your clit. “who this pussy belong to? say it.”

you bit your lip, stubborn. he tightened his grip on your throat and smacked your ass hard. “answer me before i fuck the attitude out of you.”

“yours,” you gasped, legs shaking. “it’s yours, jermajesty.”

“damn right it is.” he pulled his fingers out, smeared your wetness across your lips, then kissed you deep and messy, spitting into your mouth. “open up for me.”

you sucked his fingers clean, glaring up at him. he freed himself — his dick heavy, long, and thick, already throbbing. he stroked it slowly while watching you. “you gon’ take every inch tonight. no running, no tapping out.”

he pushed you back against the seat, spread your legs wide, and spit directly on your pussy. he rubbed his tip up and down your folds before thrusting in deep in one smooth stroke. you cried out at the stretch, nails digging into his arms.

“shit— it’s too big,” you whimpered.

“you can take it, baby. you always take this dick so good,” he groaned, starting with long, deep strokes that rocked the car. “look at you already creaming around me. that’s my pussy. say it while i’m fucking it.”

“it’s your pussy,” you moaned, legs wrapping around him tighter.

he choked you a little harder, lips brushing your ear. “louder. let me hear you ma.” his hips snapped faster, skin slapping loud. every thrust hit deep. he smacked your ass repeatedly, the sting mixing perfectly with the pleasure. “you really thought another nigga could have this? nah. this mine. all this wet shit mine.”

“it’s yours— fuck, right there, jermajesty!”

“that’s my good girl. take this dick just like that.” he pulled out suddenly, making you whine. “now open that pretty mouth. get it wet for me.”

you leaned forward and took him down your throat, sucking sloppily with spit dripping down your chin. he groaned, one hand in your hair as he fucked your mouth slow and deep. “yeah… just like that. nasty ass. sucking me so good after trying to give my shit away.”

he pulled you off with a wet pop, turned you around, and pushed you face down ass up. he spit on your pussy again then slammed back inside, pounding you harder from behind. the new angle had you shaking, squirting around his dick as your moans got louder.

“fuck yes— squirt on this dick again, baby. let it all out.” he kept spanking you, gripping your hips tight while he talked you through it. “breathe for me. that’s it… good girl. you feel so fucking good. keep creaming on me just like that.”

you came hard again, pulsing and soaking the seat. he didn’t stop, fucking you through every wave. “i love this pussy too much to share it. you hear me? don’t ever do that shit again.”

when he finally came, he buried himself deep and filled you up with thick ropes of cum, groaning your name as he held your hips. both of you collapsed in the backseat, breathing heavy, windows completely fogged.

he stayed inside you, pressing kisses to your shoulder, still possessive. “we still got a lot to talk about when we get home… but right now you staying right here with me.”

tags: @leileilala , @mccartneysdoll

[hannahtalkz]

#bigdaddy

[pvt-luv]

❣︎ Cherish The Day

Michael Jackson x Black! Fem Reader

Word Count: 1,612

A/N: This story is going to be a short series, like 4 or 5 chapters, at most four. But enjoy reading this chapter!

Taglist: @a-motherfcking-fish @blcknebula @sukunasstomachtongue

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!

You usually have quick reflexes, but you were so caught off guard by the current situation. One moment, you're minding your business as usual, walking down the street. The next moment, an attractive man is grabbing you by the shoulders.

"I'm so sorry to do this to you." The man spoke.

"What?" You were baffled.

"I need you to pretend for me."

"What?" You repeated, not understanding.

He didn't even explain before a woman yelled out a name and stomped down the street. You looked at her as her furious eyes landed on you as he moved out of her line of sight. She looked at you with a confused expression. You almost felt scrutinized under her gaze.

"Who is that?" She said.

"Why do you keep doing this?" The man ignored her question.

"Michael, don't play with me." The woman grew irritated quickly. "Who is that?"

"Someone that I know, someone I'm seeing."

You quickly turned your head to the side to look at him with bewilderment. But quickly schooled your face when you remembered his words.

"Huh." She stared at you; it was very passive-aggressive.

"You with her now?" She quickly said. "What a downgrade."

They both looked at you when you let out a humorless laugh. "I don't know who you are." You gave her a sharp look. "But I'm not the one."

"Look, I understand you're upset with her, but don't disrespect her," Michael said in a sharp tone.

You appreciate the words even though you two are practically strangers. He still backed you up against her.

She looked at you and Michael like you both had the audacity. "So you date commoners now?"

"Commoners?" You tilted your head. "Girl, what the hell?"

"I can show you a commoner." You said as you stepped closer, but Michael held you back.

"She is way less drama than you were." Michael sighed. "Don't say, commoners, you sound pretentious."

"You were doing way too much; I feel like you're only with me cause what I come with," Michael said.

"Not me or my personality." Michael looked at her.

"So you think someone with less of the fraction of what you have can understand?"

"I like the way you assume I'm not a part of whatever circle."

"Baby, I can tell those shoes are last season," she told you.

"I like these boots." You mumbled.

"Look, we had our run," Michael said. "You have to let it go."

"Michael, you can't be serious; we look good together."

"Now let me tell you in a way you can understand." He tilted his head. "I'm not with you anymore."

You saw her expression drop, and even though you didn't know this woman, you felt satisfaction.

"Stop calling my 'fuckin house, scaring my mother."

"And stop following me, and this is the last time I tell you."

You wrapped your arm around his to make it more believable. "Yeah, cause he has someone new now." You fluttered your eyelashes.

"Yeah, whatever." She glared at Michael, her eyes staying on yours longer.

"Have fun with my leftovers." She scoffed before walking away.

"You can't act like when you were the one chasing his ass across the city." You yelled after her.

Michael turned to you. "I'm sorry for that; I had to do something cause she had been tailing me for days."

"She sounds exhausting." You laughed.

"It wasn't always like that."

"If you can believe it, she used to be nice." Michael shrugged his shoulders.

"I find it very hard to believe that she was a nice person; maybe she did that for you."

"Maybe."

Michael tilted his head at you like he was trying to figure something out. "My name is Michael; what is yours?"

You told him your name. "Nice to meet you, pretend boyfriend."

"Yeah."

You controlled the silence since you didn't like awkwardness. You had things to do, like getting more fabric for the design ideas you had.

"It was great to help, but I have some things to do now." You gave a light smile.

You didn't expect the next words to come out of his mouth.

"Can I come with you?"

"You want to do that?" You said slowly.

"Sorry, that sounds weird." Michael looked away. "I need to get away."

"Get away?"

"It's complicated to explain." Michael sighed.

"Okay." You raised an eyebrow.

"I need to get some fabrics." You told him as you started to walk.

"Fabrics?" Michael questioned.

"Yeah, I'm a fashion designer." You nodded your head. "My boss wanted some new designs."

"Do you find that fun?" Michael asked.

"The designing or shopping?" You retorted back.

"Both, I guess."

"Well, shopping can be stressful, especially when they don't have what I want." You looked up in thought.

"But designing is my passion. I loved it forever." You told him.

"You always wanted to be a fashion designer?"

"Yeah, not me working under somebody, but yes, I have."

"You want your own company."

"In the far future, I see it for myself."

"You ask a lot of questions." You chuckled.

"Is that a bad thing?" Michael tilted his head.

"No, I don't mind questions at all."

You looked up and noticed you were in front of the fabric store. "We're here."

You opened the door, leaving it open for him to come in.

"I don't know if this would be a weird question." You turned your head to him as you walked through the aisles.

"I usually match skin tones to fabrics." You looked towards the large fabric aisle at Michael.

"Do you mind if I use you too?"

"No, I don't mind at all." Michael smiled.

"Great!" You clapped your hands together.

You looked over the options of patterns and colors. "I need something vibrant, something bright."

"Gold? Yellow or orange." Michael threw out colors.

"You're into something with yellow; I don't think I've done that color before." You nodded your head.

You looked through the different variations of yellow. Putting them against your skin and Michael's. You also looked for secondary colors that could contrast with the yellow.

You put up a shade of blue against Michael. "Blue looks good on you."

"Really?" People have told me that."

"Yeah, it looks great against your skin. Do you wear it often?"

"Not but I should."

You eventually gathered everything that you needed. You walked to the register, placing everything on the counter. The cashier was ringing everything in, and you tried to ignore that Michael was in your personal space. You could smell the fragrance on him; it smelled like something you couldn't afford.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. Pretty men make you nervous in general. But something about him is pulling you towards him. Maybe it is the mystery that surrounds him. You know next to nothing, besides that he might be rich, from the earlier convo with that woman.

The cashier said the total, which brought you out of your thoughts. You nodded your head as you opened your purse. But Michael stopped you with a hand.

"I can do it."

"Bu-"

"It's fine, think of it as a way of saying thank you for earlier."

You silently agreed as he pulled out cash. You stepped back a little to give him more space.

"Thank you." You told Michael as he handed you the bags.

"It's not a problem." Michael smiled.

He opened the door for you as you looked around at the busy streets. Watching the people walk by, each in their own world.

Michael looked at you as he tilted his head. "I enjoyed spending this little bit of time with you."

"Me too." You looked at him.

You two let the silence overtake, the only noise being the honking and people talking.

"I want to exchange numbers." Michael broke the silence first.

"Yeah?"

"Only if you want to," Michael added.

"Yeah, I would love to."

You set down the bags you were carrying. You reached inside your purse for a piece of paper. Thanking the high heavens that you always have paper and something to write with you. You set the paper in your hands and wrote your number down.

"Here's my number." You handed the paper to him.

"Thank you." Michael smiled.

You could tell he was about to say more. But a loud honk broke you two out of the moment. You looked to see a black limo pull up. You watched as the driver came out of the car and around.

"Mr Jackson, you can't just run off like that." The driver said.

Michael sighed as if he had just been caught. "I needed to get away."

"Your family is worried about you; she came, and you disappeared."

"But it's fine now." Michael looked at you.

"I can see that." The driver tilted his head at you.

"We have to go now, Michael."

Michael sighed as he turned completely to you. "Thank you again." He reached his hand to squeeze your arm."

"You're very welcome." You smiled.

Michael smiled at you for the last time before he started to walk to the limo. The driver opened the door. Michael paused, turning his head again. "I'll remember to call you; look out for me.

"I'll look forward to it." You waved your hand at him with a smile. "Bye, Michael."

"Bye." The door closed, leaving you to look at the sleek back door.

You watched as the limo drove off. You couldn't help but wonder what Michael's life was like. Definitely something different from you. You picked up your bags and thought about what might come next, especially after that phone call.

[yourleogf]

munch ❥ tyriq withers

PAIRING: tyriq withers as “cameron ‘cam’ cade” from “him (2025)” x wife!black!fem!reader

SUMMARY: inspired by this TikTok + this second TikTok + this Instagram post. 🩷

you didn’t know what had gotten into Cameron — and truthfully, you still didn’t — but all you knew is that something had to have been bothering him heavily for him to immediately bury his face between your legs the moment he stepped foot inside your shared home.

“C-Cameron!” you cried out, your voice taking on a higher pitch, as your jaw dropped and your head fell back onto the bed, your eyes rolling back while your hands pulled at the bedspread, “shiiit, baby, i c-can’t—oh, fuuuck!—can’t t-taaake it— nnnnngh!”

Cameron had your legs pushed back so far that your feet were beside your head, and you honestly didn’t know how he managed to keep them in place because they had been trembling uncontrollably for the past few minutes. his grip was firm, not firm enough to hurt you but firm enough that you couldn’t move, and his mouth was unrelenting, his lips and tongue exploring every inch of your pussy he could come in contact with.

he had already made you cum three times and it hadn’t even been ten minutes.

he didn’t speak. didn’t mumble or utter a word. he just kept eating and lapping at you like he was devastatingly hungry and you were his only source of nutrition for the day, his tongue working wildly yet skillfully to get you to your next climax while simultaneously licking up the juices from the previous one.

unsteadily, your head rose and you looked down at him, watching him work in completely awe with a hint of shock as he ate your pussy off the bone. sensing your gaze, Cameron’s eyes flickered upward and he maintained eye contact with you, his greenish-blue irises seemingly darker than what they usually were.

even then, he still didn’t speak or mumble out anything. it was as if his brain had shut down or went on autopilot while his mouth and tongue continued moving instinctually and on muscle memory, and you couldn’t think straight enough to properly question him about what had happened to him because your mind was full of nothing but fog.

a whimper left your mouth before you even realized it, the sound desperate and utterly pathetic, and Cameron’s hands left your legs to travel to your shaky hands as his fingers intertwined with yours and he held your hands tight, not tight enough to hurt you but tight enough to ground you in the earth-shattering moment.

surprisingly, your legs stayed in place once his hands left them, your trembling limbs seemingly in tune with Cameron’s mouth and knowing better than to mess up his meal by falling down or closing around his head.

your held Cameron’s hands tight — tighter than he was holding yours — and your head fell back onto the bed again as your eyes suddenly squeezed shut and a deep furrow formed between your eyebrows, a loud sob of pleasure falling from your lips while the shaking in your legs increased.

“C-Caaaaam, baby, i’m f-finna— oh, fuuuck, i caaaan’t— shit, shit, shiiit— uuuuugh!” your body completely spasmed underneath Cameron as you came for the fourth time, another sob falling from your lips while you struggled immensely to handle the intensity of your orgasm, “fuckfuckfuck— Cameroooon!”

your moans, cries, sobs, and whines bounced off of the wall of your shared bedroom as your body twitched and shook from your climax, your eyelids squeezing tighter around your eyes while your jaw went slack and your mouth hung open.

but one thing about Cameron Cade? he wasn’t stopping until he was satisfied, but you didn’t know how much more of his mouth you could take before you ultimately tapped out on him.

[yourleogf]

y’all are 100% losing the plot because why in the hell is there a big ass discourse about a term of endearment being used in michael fics?? 🧍🏽‍♀️ it’s actually appalling how this damn app just keeps getting flipped upside down nearly everyday over complete nonexistent, like oh my goodness 😭

if you like the term, use it! if you don’t, don’t read the fics that use it! — it is simply NOT that difficult & shouldn’t be this huge of an argument… people act so entitled when it comes down to fanfic writers & i feel as though they forget that writing is not mandatory — it’s a hobby for those who thoroughly enjoy painting pictures with their words.

how about we stop ignoring the phrase “don’t like, don’t read” & stop interacting with things you don’t like, ‘kay? 🫩

[michaeldiary]

my biggest issue with this fandom is that i’m finding that a lot of people tell on themselves when it comes to michael and how they subconsciously view him and the sense of entitlement when consuming a writer’s work for free.

with michael specifically, i feel like.. there’s a certain kind of people who take his appearance, public persona, shyness, or whatever about him and start treating him as though he existed outside of any cultural context. like he wasn’t a black man born in 1958 in indiana, raised in a large black family, surrounded by black communities, black speech patterns, and black cultural norms..

like.. i’ll just be very frank. i genuinely believe people will make these crazy ass declarations about what he “would never say” or “never do” based on a mental image they’ve constructed because they don’t think he’s black enough to do black stuff. point blank. sorry.

nobody can prove what michael did or didn’t say in his private relationships. but it’s also not some bizarre, modern ass term from tiktok that appeared out of nowhere. “mama,” “ma,” “girl,” and similar terms of endearment have been common in many black communities for decades. so.. hearing a black man from michael’s generation use one of those names should be remotely shocking or give you an “ick” ... first question if you’re not black, are you racist? second question, if you are black, do you bully other black people who don’t particularly fit in with your image of what black is supposed to be?

because you “fans” unconsciously associate certain forms of speech with being too black or not fitting the version of michael you’ve built in your heads because you don’t view him as a real person with a regional, racial, and generational background. you see him as a character.

it’s the seeing people make assumptions about blackness based on presentation of it all. which is making me very irate because i still to this day get constant comments about how i’m perceived as an “unconventional” black woman. people short circuit when they remember oh! she’s black. huh. when i say nigga, or use aave, or anything else of that nature.

these people treat him as like he’s separate from black culture entirely because of his voice, mannerisms, appearance, wealth, etc. and that’s annoying as fuck because he struggled with that his entire time while he was here and this is very much real life for me too.

also. shut the fuck up? like literally just be quiet, oh my fucking god. there’s a difference between discussing writing choices and acting like you’ve been appointed the quality control officer of michael jackson fanfiction on tumblr.

and get out the x reader tag. oh my god, im agitated.

anyway, look at him. isn’t he so stinking cute?

[douceurrrr]

omg don’t get me started on the earth song, the message of that song went tooooo over peoples heads.

[gogoyubari888]

If you don’t like the terms of endearment people use in the stories they write you are more than welcome to write your own… or shut the fuck up. “Mama” has been used as a term of endearment since the 70’s, you know one of the decades Michael Jackson was popular…

How you gonna ask writers to stop using it and then use it in your argument as to why it shouldn’t be used? I’m starting to feel like some of yall are not like us…..

[glossiercheek]

manipulative bsf!michael finds out you’re going on a date with another guy ♡

warnings: 18+ (mdni), backshots

you wanted to keep it a secret from michael. you randomly met lucas in a bookshop in between the piles of paperbacks and the smell of old paper wafting around you two when you hit it off, completely submerged in your conversation about the duality of dr. jekyll and mr. hyde when he asked you out.

you hesitated for a moment. flashes of michael’s precious smile surged through your mind like lightning bolts, trying to scare you away. you agreed to go out with lucas, even though he was the complete opposite of michael: freckles scattered across his nose, and a backwards hat in a fratboy type of way. sweet, shy. you liked it, going out with someone you could connect with.

but… michael would love that for you, right? he’s your best friend after all, and he knows your goal is to eventually find your one true love. maybe lucas is that person.

with that mindset, you sit next to michael on the sofa, practically jumping in excitement to tell your best friend the good news. how cute lucas is, how he totally understands your literary taste, and how you’re able laugh with him. really laugh with him. how you met him in a bookshop, the most romantic place of all places in the world.

“you’re never gonna guess what happened,” you begin, placing your hands on his thigh to get michael’s attention. michael’s lazily paging through the tv guide, trying to find something interesting while attentively listening to you. “tell me, pretty.”

you scratch your neck in shyness, feeling the heat dawn on your cheeks and the curve of your ears. “i’m going on a date.” and with that, you let your statement hang in the air. you sound squealy, excited, even.

suddenly, michael stops paging through the tv guide. his eyes flick up to you, where you sit next to him, all pretty and perfect, where you belong. “a date?” he asks in confusion, wondering if he heard you correctly. because since when do you speak with other guys? do you have other guy friends he doesn’t know of? “and you said yes?”

you breathe out a tiny laugh, folding your arms around your chest to make yourself small. “well… yes. we’re going tonight. he’s taking me to the movie theater. this new horror movie.”

michael huffs out a laugh, a tad bit cocky. “you don’t like horror.” he says it like it’s a fact.

part of it burns within you, how he knows you so well and uses that advantage to get his way all the time. you want to stand tall and go against the ferocity of his actions and manipulation, but part of you likes knowing that there’s someone in this world who knows you like the back of their hand.

the pressure in your chest tightens. “things can change, michael.” you say, already knowing where the conversation is headed. a piece of michael thinks it’s endearing, how you try to be cross with him, go against everything he says. he thinks the little frown on your face is rather adorable than scary.

without another word, michael pats his thigh. “let me explain somethin’ to you.” his tone is all authorative and deep, leaving no room for argument. you comply almost instantly, dropping your weight on his lap as michael brings his large hand out to give your chin a wiggle.

“listen to me, sweetheart,” he starts, his free hand kneading the fat of your waist under your top. “he’s just pretendin’ to like you, baby. he doesn’t love you like i do. y’don’t need him—” he brushes his thumb back and forth over your cheekbone. “y’have me. that’s all that matters.” he gives your chin another wobble to emphasise his short lecture.

and you just stare at him, saying nothing. only busy with recollecting your thoughts that seem to crumble in your mind. the feeling of michael’s warm thigh under you, his soft hand caressing your face. it’s mind-numbing, but at times like these, when michael clearly shows you that he knows best, you relish in the fact that you have a best friend who knows how to take the lead.

well, normally you would. you don’t want that today, you decide. “i think i should go out with other guys my age, mikey,” you confess softly, peering at the rough denim of michael’s jeans. “i think it’s good for me.”

at that, michael barks out a melodic laugh. it sounds condescending and hearty at the same time, and it makes your clit pulse underneath the cotton of your panties. “y’think it’s good for you?”

not even an hour later, michael has you face down, ass up on the sofa while he slides his cock in and out of you. your warm slick streams out of you in droopy strings, keeping michael’s length attached to your little hole as the sloppy sounds fill the room, mixed in with your small cries.

“he’s not good f’you—” michael starts again, thrusting himself in you again. at this point, your warm muscle is totally used to him, welcoming him in and accommodating his size in your soppy entrance. his tip nudges at your cervix, making you feel like electricity runs through your veins everytime he pushes your lowerback down to force your back into an arch as michael keeps ramming in you. “only i am good f’you, right, pretty?”

the sounds of skin on skin echo through the living room, and you feel weird. “yes— yes, only you—” you babble, voice muffled in the cushions, feeling him all the way in your throat. your cunt feels raw as your hole sputters out more of your cream at the thought of getting fucked by your best friend on his sofa.

he enters you again, agonisingly slow. “he can’t give this to you, can he?” he deliberately pushes his cock in inch by inch, making sure you feel his length penetrating your narrow alley. demanding to be felt. demanding to wedge it within you and mould your insides to his shape.

you whimper at the feeling of michael bottoming out, the crown of his cock kissing your cervix deliciously as your wetness drips on the expensive leather of the sofa. “n-no…” your pussy twitches from sensitivity, hips bucking backward when michael’s free hand reaches down to rub controlled circles to your clit.

your cunt flutters open like a flower, white slick gushing out of you like a greasy waterfall, and michael has the audacity to coo at you. “can he make you feel like this?” oh, you hate him. big time.

michael slides out of you with ease, then right back in, creating a ring of white around his shaft. he listens to your muffled cries and moans like it’s his latest demo, and actually finds joy in how you welcome him in so easily. “look at you, taking your best friend’s dick and going onna’ date later.”

[bitchenbae]

A BLACK GIRL RUNS THIS BLOG BITCH

[multifandomposts-blog]

Lets talk again

Y'all, I literally just dropped a fanfic. Me and a couple of my mutuals were just talking about how we wanted to get back to normal, focus on writing fanfics, enjoying the fandom, watching edits, and doing what we usually do instead of constantly discussing drama.

And then somebody decided to be weird as fuck again.

I'm so tired.

Like damn, can I edit in peace for five minutes? Every time I think we're finally moving on and getting back to enjoying the fandom, another bizarre take, another weird comment, or another screenshot pops up and drags us right back into discourse.

I swear, at this point, the drama is putting in more overtime than I am.

Okay, I need to say something because one of my mutuals sent me this screenshot, and honestly, this whole narrative that Black people, or Black women specifically, are somehow responsible for what happened is getting ridiculous.

First of all, let's talk about the actual evidence we have. Not rumors. Not "Twitter said." Not "I heard somebody say." Actual screenshots and actual accounts from people who were in the Bae Nation group chat. From everything that has come out so far, the majority of people in that group chat were white. There were only a few Black fans, and according to multiple people, some of them left when Maddie got added.

So where exactly is this narrative coming from that Black people somehow caused all of this?

Because that's not what the evidence shows.

And that's my problem with comments like these. "Black people and Twitter are a mess" is crazy to me because it immediately shifts blame onto an entire group of people when we literally have screenshots and firsthand accounts showing that weird behavior came from people of multiple races. Weird people come in every color. Parasocial behavior comes in every color. Crossing boundaries comes in every color.

Let's stop pretending otherwise.

And another thing that bothers me is how comfortable people are blaming Black women specifically. As Black women, we know exactly what it feels like to be hated for existing, judged harsher than everybody else, and have our appearances picked apart over things that have nothing to do with our actual opinions or actions. Why would we turn around and celebrate somebody being called ugly, masculine, or having people ask invasive sexual questions about her fiancé and his brother? That makes absolutely no sense.

And yes, before somebody says it, I know people are criticizing Maddie because of her political opinions. Fine. I criticize her political opinions too. That's completely different from asking her what Jaafar sounds like during sex, what positions they use, whether she's seen Jermajesty naked, or making fun of her appearance. Those things have nothing to do with politics.

Nothing.

And this whole "they gave fans leverage" argument doesn't sit right with me either. Because let's be serious for a second. Nobody "gives" anybody leverage to ask weird sexual questions or invade their privacy. Nobody "gives" anybody permission to harass them. That's a choice people make themselves.

Everybody involved should be held accountable for their own actions, not entire races.

And honestly, this whole situation has just become embarrassing. Instead of holding actual individuals responsible, people keep trying to pin everything on groups of people. Black women. Twitter. This side of the fandom. That side of the fandom.

No.

Hold the people who actually participated accountable.

And while we're talking about evidence, can we please stop acting like screenshots and firsthand accounts only matter when they support the narrative we personally like? Because every other day people are saying, "Show proof. Show screenshots. Show evidence." Well, people who were actually in the group chat have shown screenshots and shared their experiences, and none of them point to Black women leading some hate campaign.

So let's stop rewriting history to fit whatever narrative makes us feel comfortable.

This entire situation is embarrassing enough without throwing innocent people under the bus too.

And let me make something crystal clear because I already know somebody is going to read this and immediately jump to, "Oh, you're defending Maddie."

No. I am not Maddie's biggest supporter. I don't agree with her political opinions. I criticize them openly. I don't even particularly like her like that. Me saying, "Let's stick to facts and stop throwing Black people under the bus," is not me suddenly becoming president of the Maddie Simpson fan club. It just means I believe in being fair and not blaming people for things they didn't do.

Because apparently basic fairness gets mistaken for "dick riding" nowadays.

And honestly, the screenshot itself is weird to me. Not because people are saying the situation was embarrassing it was. But because why was "Black people" the first thing brought up in the first place?

Why was that the conclusion?

Out of everything that happened the weird group chat questions, the invasive DMs, the body shaming, the harassment, the people asking sexual questions about Jaafar and Jermajesty, the people making fun of appearances, the people treating these individuals like objects instead of human beings somehow the takeaway became "Black people and Twitter are a mess"?

Excuse me?

Especially when another person immediately jumps in and says, "No literally, it was mainly them acting the way they did and gave fans leverage to act the way they did."

What exactly does that mean?

Because I'm trying really hard to understand what "them acting the way they did" means. Acting like what? Existing? Being engaged? Having opinions people disagree with? Being public? None of those things magically create weird fans. Weird fans create weird fans.

And I hate this idea that if somebody is disliked enough, people start acting like they're responsible for their own harassment. That's a dangerous mindset. Because by that logic, anybody people dislike automatically "deserves" whatever crazy behavior gets thrown at them.

No. That's not how accountability works.

And I also find it interesting that people are so quick to generalize Black people based on the actions of individuals, but somehow when the screenshots and testimonies point to the majority of people in that group chat being white, nobody says, "White fans are embarrassing." Suddenly it's "all races" and "individual responsibility."

Funny how that works.

It's almost like people are comfortable making sweeping statements about Black people that they wouldn't dare make about anyone else.

And that's exactly why comments like these bother me so much. Because we're talking about actual individuals who made choices, and somehow the blame keeps getting redirected onto entire communities that don't even line up with the evidence people themselves have been sharing.

At some point, y'all have to ask yourselves why "Black people" were the first people brought up in this conversation at all. Because that's weird to me.

And another thing that makes this whole screenshot even more confusing to me is that I'm pretty sure the second account that replied under it is a Black woman too. I'm almost positive I've seen her account on Twitter before, and I know some of y'all have probably seen her around too.

So now I'm even more confused.

Because if that's the case, what exactly are we doing here?

What is this "Black people and Twitter" narrative supposed to mean when the very next person agreeing with you is, from what I understand, a Black woman herself? Like, huh?

That's why I don't like broad statements like that, because they don't even make sense when you actually stop and look at the people involved. You're trying to blame an entire group of people while people within that same group are disagreeing, agreeing, criticizing, defending, and doing all the same things everyone else is doing.

Black people are not a monolith. Black women are not a hive mind. We don't all think the same, act the same, or move the same. So seeing "Black people and Twitter are a mess" immediately made me raise an eyebrow because… what are we talking about exactly?

Especially when the actual screenshots and accounts from people who were there point to something entirely different.

That's why I keep coming back to the same question:

Why were Black people the first ones brought up at all?

Because the more I look at this, the stranger that part becomes to me.

Anyway, guys, I genuinely want to hear other perspectives on this, so let's have a discussion in the comments. Just keep it respectful because I do think this is a conversation worth having.

And with that, thank y'all for coming to another one of my TED Talks.

Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44

@raefoxiegirl @peacemakersbeloved @devynrulesboisdrool @skiicoreee @boredpretty @michaelssparklysocks @sometranslationnoteru @strawberrkiwis @irissunshines @agustdpeach @fluffypuddingatz

@joeburrowife

@1meshugge1 @whyxo @coornballz @plan3tch1ld @juicybigfart @swavydadon @hyperfixawahhhh @melaninjoys @enzo6ekiiii

[blkkbratt]

Wash day!!

Summary: Michael washing black reader’s hair

Contains: Black fem reader, fluff, cutesy, 4c hair in mind but not specified, 3rd person pov

The soft engines of cars rode past her apartment window along with the sound of running water throughout her kitchen.

“Which one, baby?” Michael asked, looking questioningly between the two brown bottles. The white sink pressed against her ribs as she held her coiled hair under the rushing water.

“The one that says shampoo, Mikey.” She giggled with her eyes closed, feeling the warm water spread through her scalp. Her eyes opened, greeted by the silver sink basin, water swirling around it.

“Oh, got it!” He exclaimed happily. She listened as he opened the cap and poured some in his hand before closing it. He made sure his hands were wet before rubbing the gel-like substance in.

“It’s so foamy.” He let out a giggle watching as it foamed up in his hands. Hearing his laughter warmed her heart; she always thought it was the cutest thing ever.

“Don’t get it everywhere, Mikey.” She reminded him, reaching her hand up to turn the faucet off to not rinse out the shampoo early. “Baby, I got this.”

His hands met her scalp, using his fingers to massage it through her hair. She closed her eyes with a sigh, feeling content at the much-needed wash. She loved wash days; it felt like a reset.

She was a bit more nervous today since her boyfriend, Michael, offered to do it for her. His doe eyes and the slight pout on his lips made it hard for her to say no.

So now here she is, enjoying him rubbing his fingers through her kinky coils, hearing the slush of the shampoo gathering in her head. Michael let out small, quiet giggles as he sneakily slicked her hair into a Mohawk using the shampoo to form the shape.

“Michael Jackson.” She said sternly, holding back her own laugh. His laughter filled the room, not being able to hold it back anymore. “You’re so lucky. I don’t have a camera right now.”

He finally rinsed her hair out, captivated by the way the shampoo slid so smoothly out of her. Replacing the white suds with her now natural hair color.

“You okay?” He asked her. “Yes, baby, I’m okay. Are you finished?” She asked him, her voice a bit echoed from her head in the sink. “Yes, ma’am, I just need to put in the leave-in conditioner now.” He grabbed the towel on the countertop.

He gently squeezed her hair, letting out the excess water. He wrapped the towels around her hair, gently bringing her back up. “Whew. Thank God my back was killing me.” She sighed, leaning side to side, attempting to move the stiffness in her back.

“I’ll massage it for you later.” He smiled and leaned in, giving her a kiss which she happily returned. He reached up, rubbing the towel around her head to dry off any stray droplets.

“You’re so pretty, Mama.” He told her as he draped the towel around her shoulders. She couldn’t help but get shy at his compliments. No matter how long they had been dating, he still made her all giddy.

“Thank you, Mikey.” He reached for the leave-in conditioner, pouring some in his hands. “Is this enough?” He asked, showing her the dime-sized amount in his palm.

She looked up, nodding, secretly proud he did it so well. She shouldn’t be surprised; Michael is good at almost everything he touches.

He spread the leave-in conditioner in her hair, leaving small kisses on her forehead. She couldn’t ignore the warmth in her heart at the affection.

“Now let’s go start that massage.”

A/n: I’m starting to figure this tumblr thing out😄