hiii @btcilovemj - Tumblr Blog

otw!michael smut x asfab reader

WARNING, THIS WRITING CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING…

OTW!era Michael, implied first time for Michael, mentions of him being big so maybe size!kink?, accidental creampie, unprotected sex, accidental dumbification, p!in!v and more. IF YOU ARE A MINOR, GO AWAY! I WILL BLOCK YOU! if any of these things are triggering to you, please look away.

Fem pet names used, plus size friendly, no mentions of size, height or shape. Black women friendly, no mentions of skin tone, hair color, hair type, or hair coverings/wraps. Intended for black women🤎 I know I was supposed to post like three fics and I’ve been posting just like drabbles and stuff, but I’m constantly getting stomped so plz forgive me😭I promise that thriller era and mature era fic is still coming. Also, this is unedited so please ignore any mistakes! I hope you enjoy, sorry for any mistakes this is unedited. Reblogs, comments, likes are all appreciated. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, enjoy! 🩷

Michael is completely unaware that he’s fucking you dumb. He doesn’t mean to at all, he’s so deep, fucking you nice and slow-, hard but pacing himself. He has no idea how he’s drilling every thought away. “You feel good love? Hm?” He genuinely expects a response, looking at you with his brows knotted and his big doe eyes full of love. He expected for this to be a romantic experience for the both of you, to be present in one another. But when he sees your eyes rolling back, mouth agape and notices the way your breathing has become labored, it dawns on him just how good you feel. At least a little anyway.

“You’re so b-beautiful, baby.” He praises, half expecting you to look at him with those pretty eyes and thank him. Instead, a whine purrs from your throat—long and quiet—as you shake your head and push again him with weak hands. He’s almost worried. He’s never seen you make a face like that before or heard you make a sound like that before. It’s so sexy. It only gets worse when he shifts, bringing his body even closer—as if possible—and his thick length slips even deeper inside of you.

malepeacock

𓊆ྀིMISSING PANTIES𓊇ྀི - MICHAEL J

➠ pairing: manipulative!michael x black!femreader

➠ warning: Michael is manipulative and a pervert too, smut

➠: a/n: I wanna to join to perv trend so here I am

The Jackson family compound sprawled across Hayvenhurst like a fortress of music and money and beautiful, complicated people. The pool out back was a turquoise jewel glittering under the July sun, surrounded by lounge chairs and umbrellas and the distant sound of someone practicing vocal runs in the guest house. You'd spent the afternoon splashing around with Janet and La Toya, the three of you laughing until your stomachs ached, braids wet and heavy against your shoulders, skin slick with sunscreen and chlorine. The California heat was relentless, the kind of dry, oppressive warmth that made the air shimmer above the concrete and turned the pool water into the only tolerable place to exist.

Now you were inside, padding down the hallway toward one of the many guest bathrooms, a towel wrapped around your body and another twisted around your hair. The air conditioning kissed your damp skin, raising goosebumps along your arms. The hallway smelled like lemon polish and whatever Mrs. Jackson was cooking in the kitchen, something with onions and bell peppers, something that made your stomach growl even though you'd eaten lunch two hours ago.

The bathroom Michael had directed you to was the one attached to his bedroom. "It's the only one with good water pressure," he'd said, those big brown eyes of his soft and earnest. "The others take forever to heat up. You'll freeze before you get the chlorine out." You'd hesitated—something about going into Michael's private space felt like crossing a line—but Janet had waved her hand dismissively. "Girl, just use it. Michael doesn't care. He's probably in the studio anyway."

So here you were.

The bathroom was bigger than your entire apartment, all marble and gold fixtures and soft lighting that made your brown skin glow. There was a sunken tub in the corner that could have fit four people, a glass-enclosed shower with multiple showerheads, and a vanity that stretched the length of the far wall, covered in bottles and jars and the kind of expensive skincare products that cost more than your monthly rent. The whole room smelled like sandalwood and something else—something distinctly Michael, that mix of cologne and powder and the faint, sweet undertone of whatever candy he kept stashed in his pockets.

You locked the door. Or at least you thought you did.

The shower was heaven. Hot water beat down from three different directions, sluicing the chlorine from your braids, washing away the sticky residue of sunscreen. You stood under the spray with your eyes closed, letting the heat work the knots out of your shoulders, not thinking about anything in particular. The steam rose around you in thick white clouds, fogging the glass walls of the shower until the outside world disappeared entirely.

You didn't hear the bathroom door open.

You didn't hear the soft, almost silent footsteps crossing the marble floor.

You didn't hear the barely-there slide of fabric as Michael Jackson picked up your panties from where you'd left them folded on the sink counter simple black cotton, nothing fancy, and slipped them into his pocket.

You didn't hear any of it.

The shower turned off.

You slid the glass door open, reaching blindly for your towel, still half-lost in the warm haze of a shower well-taken. Your fingers found plush cotton, and you wrapped it around yourself before stepping out onto the bath mat, water dripping from your braids onto the marble floor.

And then you saw him.

Michael was leaning against the vanity, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other like he'd been there for hours. He was wearing black slacks and a red button-down shirt, the top three buttons undone to reveal the smooth brown skin of his chest. His curls were loose around his face, still perfect despite the summer humidity, and his lips were curved into that shy, boyish smile that had charmed millions of people around the world.

You screamed. Well you tried to. What came out was more of a strangled yelp, your hands flying to clutch the towel tighter against your chest.

"Michael! What are you— what are you doing in here?!"

"Shh, shh, shh." He held up both hands, palms out, the picture of innocence. "It's okay. It's just me. I'm hiding."

"Hiding?" Your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your throat. "Hiding from what?"

"Jermaine." Michael rolled his eyes, pushing off the sink counter and taking a step toward you. "He wants me to go over some tracks with him and I've been in the studio all day. I just need five minutes of peace. You understand, right?"

"I—" You clutched the towel tighter. "I'm not dressed, Michael. I just got out of the shower."

"I know." He said it so simply, so matter-of-factly, that for a moment it didn't register. "I didn't mean to walk in on you. I was already in here when you came in. I was in the closet, looking for something, and then you started the shower and I didn't want to embarrass you by coming out."

"In the closet?"

"Mmhm." He took another step. His eyes never left your face. They didn't dip down to your body, didn't linger on the way the towel barely covered the tops of your thighs, didn't betray even a flicker of anything inappropriate. "I didn't see anything, if that's what you're worried about. The glass was all fogged up."

You should have been relieved. You should have been furious. Instead, you were just confused, standing there in a towel in Michael Jackson's bathroom while Michael Jackson stood three feet away from you, telling you this was all perfectly normal.

"I should get dressed," you said.

"Of course. Of course, go ahead." He didn't move. "I'll just... turn around. Give you privacy."

He turned around. Faced the wall. His shoulders were relaxed, his hands clasped behind his back like a gentleman. You stared at him for a long moment, waiting for the catch, but there didn't seem to be one.

Your clothes were folded on the vanity. You reached for your bra first, then stopped. Your panties weren't there. You'd folded them, set them right on top of your shorts, and now they were gone.

"Um."

"Yes?" Michael didn't turn around.

"I can't find my..." You trailed off. You couldn't say panties to Michael Jackson. You couldn't say underwear to a man you'd known for years, a man who was practically family, a man who was currently standing with his back to you like a perfect gentleman.

"Can't find your what?"

"Nothing. Never mind." You'd just go without. It was fine. The shorts were denim, nobody would notice. You reached for your bra again.

"You know," Michael said, his voice soft and conversational, "you don't have to be embarrassed."

"I'm not embarrassed."

"You're blushing. I can hear it in your voice."

"I'm not—" You were. You absolutely were. Your cheeks were on fire. "I'm just not used to people seeing me like this."

"Like what? Like a human being?" He turned around. Just his head, looking at you over his shoulder. His expression was gentle. Understanding. "Bodies are just bodies. There's nothing shameful about them. We all have one. It's perfectly natural."

"I guess."

"Here." He turned around fully, and before you could react, he was reaching for the edge of your towel. "Let me help."

"Michael—"

But he'd already tugged. Just slightly. Just enough that the towel slipped, the tucked corner coming loose, and suddenly you were standing there in nothing but your skin, the damp air of the bathroom kissing every inch of you. Your breasts were bare, nipples pebbled from the cold. Your hips were bare, the curve of your waist bare, your thighs bare, the dark triangle of hair between your legs bare.

You froze. Your brain short-circuited. You couldn't move, couldn't speak, couldn't do anything except stand there while Michael Jackson looked at you.

"There," he said softly. "See? It's just a body. A beautiful body, but just a body. Nothing to be ashamed of."

He wasn't leering. That was the strangest part. His gaze was steady, appreciative but not hungry, like he was looking at a painting in a museum. Like this was all perfectly normal. Like friends stood around naked in bathrooms all the time.

"My towel," you managed.

"I'll give it back. I just wanted you to see that it's okay. That I'm not judging you. That there's nothing wrong with being naked." He set the towel aside, draped it over the edge of the vanity. "In fact—" He tilted his head, that shy smile returning. "It's not really fair, is it? That I've seen you, but you haven't seen me."

"What?"

"Equality. That's what friendship is about, right? Give and take." His fingers went to the buttons of his shirt. "Let me show you. So we're even."

"Michael, you don't have to—"

"I want to." Button. Button. Button. The red shirt fell open, revealing the lean plane of his chest. His skin was smooth and brown, dotted with a few stray moles, his collarbones sharp and elegant. He shrugged the shirt off and let it fall to the floor. "See? It's just skin. Nothing scary about it."

"I'm not scared."

"I know you're not." His hands went to his belt. The leather slid through the buckle with a soft hiss. "You're brave. You've always been brave. That's one of the things I like about you."

The belt came loose. The button on his slacks popped open. The zipper slid down.

"Michael—"

"Shh." He pushed the slacks down over his narrow hips, and they pooled around his ankles. His briefs came next—black boxer-briefs that hugged his thighs and did nothing to hide what was beneath them. "Almost there."

He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and pulled.

And then he was naked.

Your eyes dropped before you could stop them. His cock was long, impossibly long, the kind of length that seemed like it shouldn't be physically possible, curving slightly upward toward his flat belly. It was already hard, already straining, already slick at the tip with a bead of moisture that caught the bathroom light.

"Michael, you're—" You swallowed. "You're hard."

"It's a natural reaction." He stepped out of his clothes, completely unselfconscious, completely at ease. "It doesn't mean anything. Bodies just do that sometimes. You don't have to be worried about it."

"I'm not worried."

"Good." He took a step toward you. Another. Close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "Because I was thinking... since we're both already here, both already comfortable... maybe you could help me with something."

"Help you with what?"

"It's a little embarrassing." He ducked his head, looking up at you through his lashes. That shy, boyish expression. That practiced vulnerability. "I've been so stressed lately. The album, the tour rehearsals, the interviews. It builds up, you know? All that tension. And I've found that... releasing it... helps. But it's hard to do by yourself. It takes forever. And I was just thinking..." He let the sentence hang, let you fill in the blank.

"You want me to..."

"Just let me be inside you. Just for a little while. Just to help me release the tension." His hands came up, hovering near your waist but not quite touching. "Friends help each other. That's what friends do. It's perfectly normal."

"Is it?" Your voice came out small. Uncertain.

"Of course it is." His hands settled on your hips. Warm. Gentle. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't. You trust me, right?"

"Of course I trust you."

"Then let me help you help me." He turned you around, gently but firmly, until you were facing the vanity. The mirror was fogged around the edges but clear in the center, and you could see yourself—naked, wide-eyed, your braids dripping water onto your shoulders. And behind you, Michael, his hands on your hips, his long cock pressing against the curve of your ass. "Bend forward, just a little. That's it. Perfect."

You bent forward. Your hands braced against the cold marble countertop, your breasts swaying with the movement. In the mirror, you watched Michael's reflection step closer, watched his hand guide his cock to your entrance.

"This is normal," he murmured. "This is what friends do. I'm just going to slide in, and that's it. Nothing weird about it."

"But I'm not— I've never—"

"I know." His voice was so gentle. So patient. "I'll go slow. I promise. You're doing such a good thing for me. Such a good friend."

The head of his cock nudged against your folds. You were wet from the shower and he slid through them easily, painting himself with your slickness.

"Ready?" he asked.

"I don't—"

"Shh. It's okay. Just breathe."

He pushed in.

"Oh god" A sound that tore from your throat was halfway between a gasp and a moan. He was so long. So impossibly long. He kept pushing, inch by agonizing inch, and it felt like he was never going to stop, like he was going to split you in two.

"There." He bottomed out, his hips flush against your ass. "See? Perfect. You took all of me. You're such a good girl."

"Michael—"

"I'm going to move now. Just a little. Just enough to help me release all that tension." He pulled back, slow and controlled, then pushed forward again. "That's it. That's perfect. You feel— you feel incredible."

He set a rhythm. Slow at first, almost lazy, his hips rolling against you in a steady, hypnotic cadence. Your body was still wet from the shower, and he slid in and out of you without any resistance, your cunt gripping him like it was made for him.

"This is okay," he was murmuring, his lips brushing your ear. "This is normal. Friends help each other like this all the time. You're helping me so much. You have no idea how good this feels."

"It feels— unnnnh— it feels—"

"Good? It feels good, doesn't it? That's okay. It's supposed to feel good. There's nothing wrong with feeling good." His hips picked up speed, slamming into you harder now, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing off the marble walls. "You're so tight. So wet. You were made for this. Made to help me."

Your hands scrambled against the countertop, looking for purchase. Your reflection stared back at you with glazed eyes and parted lips. The words didn't make sense, friends helping friends, nothing wrong with feeling good, this is normal but they wrapped around you like a warm blanket, muffling the alarm bells ringing somewhere in the back of your mind.

"I'm getting close," he breathed. "So close. You're doing so good. Such a good friend. I'm going to pull out and release on your back, okay? That's the normal way to do it."

"O-okay."

"Good girl."

He pulled out, and his hand wrapped around his shaft, pumping furiously. You stayed bent over the sink, your body trembling, your cunt aching with a sudden emptiness.

And then hot spurts of cum splattered across your lower back, your ass, dripping down the curve of your hip. It was warm and thick and there was so much of it, pulse after pulse, until you felt like you'd been marked, claimed, branded.

"There." Michael's voice was breathless, satisfied. "There. That's so much better. You helped me so much. I can't thank you enough."

You stayed there, bent over the vanity, cum cooling on your skin, as Michael reached for a washcloth and began to clean you up. Gentle. Methodical. Almost reverent.

"You're such a good friend," he said again. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Michael got dressed first. Slipped his briefs back on, then his slacks, then his red shirt. He buttoned it up slowly, catching his own reflection in the mirror, adjusting his curls until they fell just so.

"I'll leave you to finish getting ready," he said, turning toward the door. "Take your time. And don't worry about Jermaine—I'll tell him I was in the studio."

"Michael?"

He paused, hand on the doorknob. "Yes?"

"I can't find my panties."

"Your panties?" His expression was perfectly blank. Perfectly innocent. "I haven't seen them. Maybe they fell behind the vanity? I can help you look later. Or maybe Janet borrowed them—you know how she is."

"Maybe," you said, but you didn't sound convinced.

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure they'll turn up." He smiled that shy, boyish smile, the one that had charmed the entire world. "Thanks again for your help. I feel so much better."

He slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

In the hallway, Michael Jackson reached into his pocket and felt the soft cotton of your panties still nestled there. He didn't take them out. Didn't need to. He just smiled, smoothed down the front of his shirt, and walked toward the studio to tell Jermaine he was ready to work.

Behind him, in the bathroom, you stood in front of the mirror, still naked, still confused, still wondering where the hell your underwear had gone.

You never did find them.

glossedupdollxx

Warnings: Smut 18+ MDNI, Pre-OTW Michael, Pervy!bsf. Masturbating, Masturbating to Bestfriend!reader’s voice, slight Dacryphillia, Imaginary penetration/Blowjob, Manipulation??? 575 words

Summary: You called Michael while he was busy.

pvtypyt

Writing porn about a dead black man is so gross and racist. Fantasizing about his genitals and his sex life, considering the media did that to to him his whole life and his body was always being objectified (the strip search, the gay rumors, his child abuse while being stripped nude). It’s just so tone deaf and these things belong in a diary or imagination. He was a real person and you don’t know anything about his body or how he behaved sexually, especially since he expressed how uncomfortable he was being sexualized and was very guarded when it came to physical intimacy. it’s so inhumane to make smut about Michael for so many reasons but you all are so parasocially delusional you don’t want do admit that

Okay right right.....YES I WANNA FUCK MICHAEL JACKSON AND WHAT ABOUT IT ??, girl cry me a river. Ima be so honest with you babes he read his OWN fanfiction so therefore I really dgaf what you chatting about. Mind you it's called FANfiction if you simply don't like it get off my page. Let me say this again, HE READ HIS OWN FANFICTION. You guys seriously baby mj so much please stfu, he literally made songs about sex and was doing things on purpose (aka sex appeal) and how is writing porn racist?, are u a child?, are u dense?, are u slow?, stay out my requests bookie.

fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

when we getting prt 2 of u aint shit?

mikaylajacksonnn

starting to realise the more the michael movie hype dies down, the fandom is decreasing . 😶

likeee baby i’m true to this game not new to this game.. im not going anywhere anytime soon

naturallykae

Rock Steady

pairing: jackie jackson x black fem!reader

wc: 2,1k+

summary: Running into your ex during date night has Jackie feeling some type of way.

warning: 18+ MINORS DNI, smut, semi-public sex, breeding kink, unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, cockwarming, reverse cowgirl, gum transfer (eeeyuck… 👀) established relationship, pet names, no use of y/n, reader has braids bc i said so, super flirt!jackie, territorial!jackie, jackie is nasty af and you love it

based on these two requests. thank you to whoever sent it in, hope you enjoy it 💚 proofread but im human so mistakes happen. fuck ai. i don’t know that bitch.

dividers by @pixopix

prettyangeliczz

they always say they wanna fuck old men but when i come and say i would fuck michael even when he needs a cane, i look crazy. his voice is naturally deep so imagine him not giving a fuck while having sex with you and looking up at you with those pretty eyes of his while his hands rest on your hips, “that’s it baby, take me just like that.” deep voice and strokes cause he can’t go as fast as he used to, but you’re more than okay with it.

edit: i know he wasn’t old, but just imagine with me guys, see my vision for a second

hunnyskisses

𝓈afe 𝒶 𝒽orse, 𝓇ide 𝒶 𝒸owboy !

𓊆❤︎︎𓊇 : after your car breaks down, the nice farmerboy nearby gives you a roof over your head for the night. However, you aren't aware of the cowboy hat rule. 𓊈❤︎︎𓊉 : farmer/cowboy michael. chubby/curvy reader. and michael likes that veeeeery muchhhh. reader gets lost. reader doesn't know about the cowboy hat rule. michael is a gentleman. he is also very smitten. embarrassed michael & embarrassed reader. cowgirl. reverse cowgirl. doggy. ass slapping. michael calls you 'sugar'. unprotected sex. creampie. michael is a sweetheart. p in v. pussy eating. lots of praise. pussy drunk. filthy dirty talk. michael loves your ass. lots of nicknames. 𓏽 ♫ 𝟏𝟓.𝟗𝓀 𓊆ྀི❤︎𓊇ྀི : oh my god this is so long... and i fear i got a little too carried away at the smut part.

𝓂asterlist || 𝒾ntro || 𝓃avigation

kkgalerii

ꨄ︎ never truly gone

𑣲𝄞 description: seven years after he walked out, michael traps you in a luxury coat room—determined to prove you’re still his, no matter who's outside.

content: 18+, smut, complicated exes, toxic, infidelity, michael loves being a side nga, lots of angst, exes to… we don’t have a clue, taken!reader. (WHOLE HOUSE MESSY)

🃜🃚🃖🃁🂭🂺

ᝰ.ᐟ the heavy bass from the exclusive grammy after-party at the chateau marmont was a low, suffocating thrum that vibrated straight through the floorboards of the private VIP lounge. the air was thick with the scent of expensive cigars, spilled cristal champagne, and heavy designer perfumes.

the room was packed with industry executives, hollywood elite, and pop royalty, all laughing too loudly, trying to secure their next deal under the dim, low-hanging crystal chandeliers.

it had been seven long, agonizing years.

seven years since the quiet, timid boy with the soft afro, gentle eyes, and sequined bowties had walked out of your life during the fading days of his off the wall era. back then, the breakup hadn't just been a clean break—it had been an absolute storm.

an avalanche of exploding solo fame, endless late nights tucked away in westlake studios, sharp accusations hurled in angry tear-filled arguments, and a bitter, lingering silence that had left your heart completely shredded. time had smoothed over the sharpest edges of the resentment, but the phantom ache of him—the way he laughed, the way he held your waist, the way he loved you—had never truly left your chest.

and then, across the crowded, smoke-filled ballroom, your eyes met his.

the world seemed to drop out from under your feet in an instant.

michael was standing near the grand piano, surrounded by a tight cluster of handlers, managers, and security guards, looking entirely transformed. he was clad in a tailored, double-breasted black silk suit that fit his lean frame to absolute perfection.

a crisp white dress shirt was unbuttoned slightly at the collar, revealing the warm bronze skin of his chest, and his signature dark, glossy curls tumbled effortlessly around his sharp, striking jawline. he wasn't that shy boy from 1979 anymore—he was the undisputed king of pop, radiating an untouchable, magnetic power that held the entire room hostage.

for several endless seconds, neither of you moved. the ambient noise of the party faded into complete static.

his dark, piercing eyes locked onto yours, and you saw the exact moment recognition hit him. a flash of pure shock crossed his face, softening into a raw, heavy longing that made your stomach turn completely upside down.

you froze, your hand trembling so hard around your champagne flute that the liquid sloshed against the glass. michael subtly shifted his weight, taking a slow, deliberate step in your direction. his eyes never left yours for a single second, explicitly acknowledging your existence after nearly a decade of brutal radio silence.

and then, tyrell walked up.

tyrell—your boyfriend of six months, a stable, kind, handsome executive—slid a heavy, possessive arm casually around your waist from behind. he leaned down, whispering something funny into your ear, before pressing a slow, comfortable kiss to your cheek and handing you a fresh drink.

across the floor, michael froze dead in his tracks.

you watched his face change in real-time, and it was terrifying. the subtle, hopeful softening in his eyes shattered into a million pieces, instantly replaced by a flash of dark, volatile fury. his jaw clenched so hard a muscle twitched violently in his cheek.

watching another man's hand rest casually on the exact curve of your hip—the waist he used to hold in the dark, the skin he used to claim as his—sent a wave of possessive, jealous heat surging straight through his veins.

tyrell turned on his heel to head toward the crowded bar, leaving you standing alone for just a second. but michael didn't just wait in the shadows. he cut straight through the lingering crowd, walking past you so close that the fine black silk of his suit jacket brushed flush against your exposed shoulder.

he paused for a fraction of a second—just long enough for the familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne to hit your senses, his long fingers ghosting deliberately over the small of your back to send a fierce shiver straight down your spine.

“excuse me, beauty,” he whispered raspy under his breath, loud enough only for you to hear, before melting into the dim shadows toward the quiet back hallway. your knees nearly buckled right then and there on the ballroom floor.

before you could even catch your breath, a slender, firm hand clamped like a vise around your wrist.

you were yanked sharply around a dark corridor, dragged down a quiet, carpeted hallway, and shoved straight into a dim, plush coat room. the heavy oak door slammed shut behind you, the brass latch clicking into place with a sickeningly final sound, sealing the two of you inside a stifling, suffocating silence.

“what the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, spinning around, your chest heaving wildly as adrenaline flooded your system.

there he stood. michael’s back was pressed against the closed door, his long hands jammed deep into his silk suit trousers. his dark eyes were burning, wide and wild, tracking every frantic breath you took.

“what is wrong with me?” michael sneered, his voice raspy, sharp, and dripping with an edge you had never heard from him before. “what the hell is wrong with you? you walk into an after-party looking like that, knowing damn well i’m in the same city, letting some random guy put his hands all over you?!”

“some random guy?!” you snapped back, taking an aggressive step toward him, pointing a shaking, angry finger right at his chest. “that is tyrell! he is my boyfriend, michael! my boyfriend!”

“i don’t give a damn what his name is!” michael yelled back, his voice cracking with sheer, unbridled emotion as he stepped out from the door, closing the distance between you until he was towering over you. “he has his hands on my girl! he was kissing on your cheek right in front of my face! you think i was just gonna stand there and watch that?!”

“you got everything you ever wanted!” you cried out, your hands coming up to push against his hard chest, though he didn't budge an inch. “you got the world screaming your name! you got the awards, the suit, the empire, everyone bowing down to you! so why do you care about some small piece of your past that you threw away?!”

“because none of it means a damn thing if i have to stand in a crowded room and watch another man touch you!” michael yelled back, his raspy voice booming off the small walls, dropping all of his usual quiet polish.

his hands flew out, gripping your wrists with desperate strength before pinning them against the door beside your head. his breathing was heavy, wild, and completely unraveled. “i’d give every single bit of it back right now if it meant you looked at me the way you used to. don't you dare talk about my life like it was worth losing you.”

your breath caught hard in your throat. “oh, please, michael! i can’t with you right now…” you screamed softly, tears of pure frustration and old heartbreak pricking the corners of your eyes. “you left! you walked out of my apartment, you changed your number, you became this colossal superstar, and you abandoned me! you don't get to come back nearly a decade later and dictate who i love or who touches me!”

“i didn't abandon you!” michael barked, his hands coming out, hovering in the air as his chest heaved heavily under his suit jacket. “it was crazy back then and you know it! everything was spinning out of control! but i thought about you every single day, mama! every damn song i wrote, every time i went to sleep in some cold, empty hotel room on the road, i was thinking about you! i was looking for you in every crowd!”

“you don’t get to look at me like i’m the one who broke something here!” you snapped, your voice trembling as years of silent grief rushed straight to your throat. “you built a whole world where nobody can touch you, michael. you became untouchable. and now you’re mad because i actually learned how to survive without you?!”

michael flinched as if you’d struck him across the face, his jaw clenching tight as his dark eyes shimmered with a sudden, devastating mix of rage and hurt.

“i didn’t want you to survive without me, mama,” he rasped out, stepping so close his chest pressed hard against yours. “i wanted you to wait. i wanted you to be right where i left you, because every single night i was out there, i was coming back to you in my head.”

“then why didn't you call?!” you demanded, your voice breaking completely. “why didn't you come back for me if you cared so much?!”

“because i was scared!” michael confessed, his loud, booming voice suddenly dropping into a raw, desperate whisper. he stepped right into your personal space, the scent of his expensive, intoxicating cologne mixed with the sudden, fiery heat of his skin completely overwhelming your senses.

“i was terrified that you hated me. i was scared that if i looked at you again, i’d fall right back into pieces. and then i see you tonight... looking so breathtaking, so matured... and some man has his arm around your waist?” he shook his head, his dark eyes brimming with heartbreak and pure jealousy. “it drove me insane. it’s driving me crazy right now just looking at you.”

“michael, please,” you whimpered, stepping back until the spine of your dress hit the cold, heavy wood of the door. “don’t do this. i’m with tyrell now. he treats me well. it’s too late for us.”

you turned your head, reaching behind your back for the brass door handle, desperate to escape the suffocating pull of his presence.

michael didn't let you touch it. in a blur of movement, he lunged forward. his long, slender fingers grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand away from the lock, and he slammed both of his hands flat against the door on either side of your head. his body pinned you flush against the wood, trapping you completely within his frame.

“you’re lying,” michael whispered raspy, hovering so close his lips brushed against your jawline with every word. “you looked at me across that room, baby. don't you dare try to pretend you didn't feel that. seven years doesn't erase what we are.”

“michael, stop—you’re a stranger to me now,” you whispered, tears finally slipping down your cheeks. “the boy i loved wouldn't have backed me into a corner like this. he wouldn't make me hurt like this.”

that broke him. the fierce anger in his eyes instantly melted into something terrifyingly raw and desperate. michael leaned his forehead flush against yours, his chest heaving as his thumb gently, almost painfully swept away the tear on your cheek.

“i’m still him, baby,” he whimpered softly against your lips, his voice shaking with pure heartbreak. “i’m still your boy. i just missed you so much it’s killing me... please, mama, just look at me... tell me you don't feel me right now. tell me you don't miss me.”

you were drowning. the sudden softness in his tone stripped away every single layer of armor you had spent years building against him. all the anger, the bitter arguments, and the noise from the party outside completely dissolved, leaving only the crushing weight of how desperately you had missed this exact voice, this exact touch.

your hands, which had been pressed against his chest to push him away, slowly softened.

your fingers curled tightly into the fine black silk of his suit jacket, clinging to him as a shuddering, tearful sigh escaped your lips. you leaned your weight into his frame, feeling the heavy, wild thudding of his heart beneath your palm—beating just as fast and frantic as yours.

“i hate you for this,” you whimpered weakly, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips brushed agonizingly against yours.

“i know, baby,” michael whispered, a dark, breathless satisfaction lacing his voice. “look at me, mama. you think a tailored suit and millions of sold records mean i forgot who i am to you? you think because you put a title on that man outside, he knows how to touch you? he knows what makes you tick?”

your breath hitched. he nudged his hips firmly against yours, making your eyes flutter shut as a sharp, traitorous burst of heat flared up between your thighs.

“i know how to make you happy,” he whispered, his lips tracing a burning path down the sensitive skin of your neck. “and i know exactly how to make you cum, mama. better than tyrell ever could. better than anyone.”

a helpless, quiet gasp escaped your throat. “god... you’re awful...”

“i know, baby,” michael whispered, a dark smirk touching his lips before he sank down to his knees right in front of you.

your eyes flew open in complete shock. “michael, what are you—!”

without answering, michael grabbed the hem of your gown, sliding his hands up the bare skin of your thighs and bunching the expensive fabric up around your waist. he pushed your legs apart, positioning himself right between your knees as you stood pinned against the cold wood of the door. he pulled your lace underwear aside with his long fingers, exposing your slick, hot core to the cool air of the room.

looking down at michael jackson—the biggest star on the planet—kneeling at your feet in a tailored suit, looking up at you through his dark, glossy curls with pure, unfiltered desperation, made your breath hitch painfully in your throat.

he knew every single weakness of yours. he remembered the exact rhythm that had made you lose your mind years ago, and as his hot hands gripped the soft skin of your inner thighs, you realized with absolute terror that you were completely at his mercy.

“i used to dream about tasting you again,” michael whimpered against your wet skin, his breath fanning hot and heavy over your core. “every single night on tour, mama... thinking about how sweet you taste for me...”

before you could protest again, a loud, shattered gasp tore from your throat, your head thumping back hard against the wooden door.

michael didn't hold back. he went to work on you with an intoxicating, ruthless intensity.

his hands gripped the soft meat of your thighs, holding you wide open and steady against him while his tongue lapped at you in deep, heavy, rhythmic strokes. he swirled over your sweet spot, collecting your slick warmth, humming softly against your skin as he ate you out with a messy, desperate hunger that made your knees tremble violently.

“m-michael—oh god—” you whimpered, your fingers sinking tightly into his dark, curly hair, trying to anchor yourself as intense waves of pleasure crashed through your lower belly.

he sucked on you firmly, flattening his tongue and working you faster, driving you straight up a steep, agonizing cliff. you were whimpering, your hips bucking helplessly against his mouth as your entire body went straight, hovering right on the ragged edge of a violent orgasm.

“that’s it, mama... give it to me,” michael panted against your wet skin, his breath hot and ragged.

just as your core tightened and you were about to scream out his name in peak climax, michael abruptly pulled his mouth away.

“no!” you sobbed out, your eyes flying open, completely unraveled and breathless. “michael, please—!”

michael stood up in one fluid, graceful motion, his dark eyes wide, glazed with pure lust, and intensely dangerous.

he didn't give you a single second to recover. he hastily unbuckled his belt, unzipping his trousers and freeing his thick, throbbing length, already slick at the tip. he gripped your hips, lifting one of your legs up over his hip, aligning himself directly at your entrance.

“you’re mine,” michael growled raspy, his forehead pressing hard against yours. “say it, mama. say you’re mine.”

“i’m—michael, please!” you begged, weeping from the sheer sensory overload.

with a low, guttural groan, michael plunged himself fully inside you in one deep, ruthless, agonizingly perfect stroke.

every deep, deliberate roll of his hips drove him all the way to your core, making your head thump back helplessly against the heavy wood. michael buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath scalding hot against your skin as he panted out every confession he’d been too terrified to ever write down.

“i thought about you every single night, mama…” he rasped out, his voice broken and heavy with need as his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt. “every girl they tried to throw at me on tour… every time i closed my eyes, baby, it was always your face. it was always you. no one ever felt like you…”

“michael—a-ah!” you whimpered, your fingers clutching his suit jacket.

“i was so scared, baby,” he whimpered right against your skin, his thrusts growing deeper, harder, and desperate. “i was so scared you moved on and forgot about me… but you’re still so wet for me, mama… you still take me so good…”

a shattered scream tore from your throat, instantly muffled as michael clamped his hand firmly over your mouth. the sheer size and blistering heat of him filled you to the absolute brim, stretching you out so intensely that your toes curled and tears of straight ecstasy leaked from your eyes.

he established a fast, relentless pace. every deep, heavy thrust rattled the heavy wood behind your back, his hips snapping forward with a desperate, angry power.

outside in the hallway, tyrell had been looking for you for the last ten minutes. he had already noticed the way your face had gone completely pale when michael stared at you from across the ballroom. when he had returned from the bar with your champagne flutes only to find you gone, an uneasy, sharp knot of suspicion had settled deep in his gut.

tracing your steps down the quiet VIP corridor, he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the faint, lingering scent of your expensive perfume near the locked coat room door.

suddenly, three sharp, heavy knocks echoed on the exact piece of wood your back was pressed against.

“babe? are you in there?”

it was tyrell’s voice from the other side of the door.

panic slammed into your chest like a bucket of ice water. your eyes flew wide open in absolute horror, and you clamped your inner muscles tight around michael, trying desperately to freeze and force him to stop.

michael didn't slow down for a single second. hearing the man you belonged to standing on the other side of the door only made his possessive drive turn completely wild. he gripped your waist tighter, driving himself into your sweet spot with ruthless, agonizing power that tore high, needy moans straight from your throat against his palm.

“hear him out there?” michael whispered dark and wicked into your ear, his voice trembling with a mix of triumph and bitter heartbreak as his hips rolled into yours. “he thinks he owns you, baby… but he doesn’t know you like i do. he doesn’t know that you’re still mine. tell me you’re mine, mama. say it so he hears you…”

“m-michael… please!” you sobbed out, helpless under him.

“i’m never letting you go again,” he growled softly, slamming into you deep enough to make your knees buckle. “i don’t care who stands outside that door.”

outside, the brass door handle jiggled violently. “hey! open up! who the hell is in there with her?!”

michael pulled his hand away from your mouth, raising his voice—loud, clear, and dripping with smug authority.

“she’s busy!” michael shouted out to the hallway, his raspy voice carrying effortlessly over your wet whimpers.

“what the hell?!” tyrell shouted from the hallway, sounding stunned, outraged, and furiously pounding his fists hard against the wood. “open this damn door right now!”

but you couldn't process tyrell or the hallway anymore. michael was driving you straight over the edge. he locked his dark eyes onto yours, his expression softening into pure, needy adoration even as his body worked you with ruthless speed.

“look at me, baby,” michael panted softly, his hands cradling your face, kissing away the hot tears on your cheek. “you’re coming for me, mama... give it to me right now...”

the sheer taboo, the relentless pace, and the overwhelming feeling of michael inside you completely shattered your remaining control. your core clamped violently around him, convulsing in an intense, toe-curling orgasm that made your throat raw from crying out his name.

feeling your tight walls pulse around him, michael lost his mind. with a few final, frantic thrusts, he buried himself to the hilt and held you tight against the door, letting out a loud, shattered groan as he spilled hot and heavy deep inside you, his entire frame trembling against yours.

for a long, quiet minute, the only sound in the room was the heavy, ragged breathing of the two of you, chest to chest, completely spent.

michael slowly pulled out of you, gently easing your leg down to the floor. he helped you adjust your dress, his hands sweet, tender, and careful, before he straightened out his own clothes, fastening his belt and buttoning his double-breasted suit jacket back up.

he stepped in front of you, wrapping his long arms tightly around your waist, pulling your head flush against his chest. he rested his chin on top of your head, kissing your hair gently over and over.

“i love you so much, baby,” michael whispered, his voice trembling with genuine, deep emotion. “i’ve never stopped loving you. come home with me tonight. please, mama... let’s fix this. let's start over.”

you stood there in his arms, the heavy reality of what had just happened crashing down on you like an icy avalanche. tyrell was still shouting outside, footsteps of hotel security now rushing down the hallway. you had just cheated on your boyfriend. you had just let your ex completely destroy your life in fifteen minutes against a coat room door.

a sudden, violent surge of anger, betrayal, and deep humiliation boiled over inside your chest.

you yanked yourself violently out of his grip.

crack!

the loud sound of your palm slapping hard across michael’s cheek echoed like a gunshot through the private room.

michael’s head snapped to the side. he froze, his hand slowly coming up to touch his burning, red cheek, his dark eyes wide with utter shock and wounded confusion.

“what the hell was that?!” you sobbed out, fresh tears streaming down your face as you smoothed down your rumpled dress with shaking hands. “what is wrong with you, michael?!”

“baby—” michael started, his voice rising, sharp and defensive.

“don’t ‘baby’ me!” you yelled, choking back a sob. “i don’t even recognize you anymore! look at what you just did! you dragged me in here, you manipulated me, you embarrassed me, and you forced that onto me while tyrell was standing right outside the door!”

“you could’ve walked away!” michael argued back, his voice booming in the small room, a flash of stubborn anger settling into his jaw. “you kissed me back, mama! you begged me to put it in! you wanted this just as bad as i did, so don't you dare stand there and put all of this on me!”

“because you played on every old feeling i had!” you screamed back. “you knew exactly what you were doing!”

“i did it because i love you!” michael shouted, stepping toward you, his dark eyes pleading and desperate. “i did it because i was losing you again, and i couldn't stand watching him touch what’s mine!”

“i am not your property, michael!” you snapped, wiping your tears away furiously with the back of your hand. “you lost the right to call me yours seven years ago! and after tonight? i don't ever want to see your face again!”

michael’s breath hitched. the angry, aggressive posture instantly melted away, leaving him looking small, deeply hurt, and utterly devastated in his tailored suit. “mama, please... don't say that... please...”

you didn't give him another second. without looking back at him, you unlocked the heavy oak door, pulled it open, and stepped out into the chaotic, security-filled hallway.

the bright hallway lights blinded you for a split second. tyrell was standing right there, flanked by two chateau marmont security guards, his eyes wide in absolute shock as he took in your smudged lipstick, flushed cheeks, and rumpled dress.

he looked right past you into the dim room, where michael stood frozen in the center of the coat room—slowly wiping a smear of lipstick off his cheek with the back of his hand, his suit jacket unbuttoned, his chest heaving as he stared at you with a heartbroken, completely ruined expression.

oneflygirl

— 𝐈’𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐘𝐏𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐎𝐕𝐀 & 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐂𝐊 𑣲

— 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; toxic jackie jackson x toxic black f!reader

—𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 ; smut, 18+, p in v, fingering, degrading kink, praising kink, pussy eating, no protection, aggressive sex, reader & jackie are toxic, hair pulling, blowjob, explicit language, toxic behavior, ass smacking, choking, arguing.

you and jackie had been at each other’s throats for the past half hour.

“you think i’m some dumb ass bitch, jackie? i saw how you was smiling all up in that bitch face at the party last night!” you shouted, chest heaving, pointing your finger in his face. “you always do this shit, nigga. got me looking stupid while you out here entertaining these bitches like i won’t leave your goofy ass.”

jackie’s eyes darkened, jaw tight as he stepped closer, tall frame crowding you against the wall. “here you go with that insecure bullshit again.

you always accusing me of shit i ain’t even do. maybe if you wasn’t always on a nigga dick and questioning me every five minutes i wouldn’t even have to look elsewhere. you’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“fuck you! i should pack my shit right now and—”

he didn’t even let you finish. his hand shot out, wrapping around your throat just tight enough to cut off the rest of your sentence. his lips crashed into yours in a rough, angry kiss, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to make you whimper. the kiss was all teeth and dominance, his body pressing you harder into the wall before he dragged you toward the bedroom.

“you talk too fucking much, ma.” he growled against your mouth. “imma shut that pretty mouth up one way or another.”

he shoved you onto the bed, yanking your skirt and panties down in one aggressive motion. before you could even catch your breath he dropped to his knees, spread your thighs wide, and he quickly buried his face in your pussy. his tongue was relentless, licking long stripes from your entrance to your clit. two thick fingers pushed inside you without warning, curling and pumping fast, the wet sounds echoing loud in the room.

“this still my pussy, right? don’t matter how much we fight, this shit always wet for me.” he mumbled against your folds, voice vibrating through you as he ate you like a man starved. his fingers moved faster, scissoring and hitting that spot that made your back arch off the bed.

“jackie— fuck, pa, slow down,” you moaned, hips bucking against his face, one hand gripping his curls tight.

he pulled back just enough to smack your thigh hard. “nah. you wanted to run your mouth, now take this tongue.” “you taste so fucking good, ma. my nasty little slut.”

he went back in, sucking and fingering you until your legs were trembling and your juices coated his chin. right when you were about to cum he pulled away, smirking at your frustrated whine.

“not yet.”

he stood up, stripping quickly, his hard dick springing free, thick and veiny. he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you forward off the bed. “open your mouth, mama. show me how sorry you are for all that arguing.”

you wrapped your lips around him, taking him deep, sucking sloppy and wet while he fucked your throat. tears pricked your eyes as he hit the back of your throat, his grip on your hair tight.

“that’s it… good girl. choke on all this dick like you choke on all that attitude.” “fuck, your mouth feels too good.”

after a few minutes he pulled out, strings of spit connecting your lips to his tip. he flipped you onto your stomach, smacking your ass hard, watching it jiggle.

“arch that back. ass up, face down.”

you obeyed, and he thrusted into you in one brutal stroke, stretching your pussy wide. he set a punishing pace, hips slamming against your ass, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. one hand yanked your curly hair back while the other wrapped around your throat from behind, choking you lightly as he fucked the shit outta you.

“you love this toxic shit, don’t you slut?” always yelling at me then creaming all on my dick. my pretty girl… taking this dick so fucking good even when you mad.”

“pa— shit, it’s too deep,” you cried out, but your pussy clenched tighter around him, betraying how much you loved it.

he smacked your ass again and again, the sting mixing with pleasure as he pounded harder. “you gon’ learn to watch how you talk to me, mama. this pussy mine. say that shit.”

“it’s yours, pa— fuck, it’s all yours,” you moaned, pushing back to meet his thrusts.

he pulled out and flipped you onto your back suddenly, pushing your legs back toward your chest and sliding back in deep. one hand stayed around your throat, eyes locked on yours as he fucked you harder into the bed.

“look at me while i fuck you. you ain’t leaving me baby.”

he had you falling apart. you came hard, pussy gushing around him, nails digging into his arms as you screamed his name. jackie followed right after, burying himself as deep as possible and filling you up with thick ropes of cum, groaning loud.

he stayed inside you after, both of you breathing heavy, sweat slick on your darkskin. after a minute he loosened his grip on your throat and kissed you slow, almost sweet, the switch flipping back like it always did.

“i love your crazy ass, even when you piss me off, mama.”

you rolled your eyes but pulled him closer anyway. “love your crazy ass too, jackie.“

/reblog if you the type to bend ova and take all that dick 🙈

jermajestysbaby

I can't..

Jackie x fem!reader

summary: you and Jackie tried but can't

contain: crying, wedding crashed

A/N: I got this from my baby @youluvyanni ! she did Michael go read hers its so good!!!! Enjoy lovelies <3

"You look beautiful y/n" your mother whispers in your ear. Looking at you in the mirror, rubbing your triceps up and down. A planted smile on her face.

You smile back but don't feel it. "Uh momma can you give me some time alone please" turning around making eye contact with her. She nods before leaving you alone.

You turn back to the mirror, observing every part of your outfit. then staring down your left hand. You break, a shriek of pain releasing from your mouth, falling to your knees.

Your sobs coming out uncontrollably as you shaking your head, not accepting it. The door opening gently, letting your two friends peeking.

Their eyes widen from shock, quickly running to you on their knees. Rach rubbing your back as you continue let them out, a hand coming to your heart, feeling it beat faster by the second.

"What is it baby? what's wrong?" Yanni asks you, looking down. You stare down the soaked carpet, your head shaking in refusal once more.

"I....I ca-can't." you mutter out, your breath short, gasping for air. The two looking at each other in a worried face.

"What can't you do y/n? you have to talk to us." Rach's voice coming out gently as she leans you up to meet their eyes.

"Jackie. Jackie is the one I want. Not Lucas." your voice cracking at the mention of his name. You feel your heart ache with every moment and promise to each other soon to be thrown away.

"my heart won't let me do it. I can't do it" you mumble out, touching your rapid beating heart. patting it, "It won't let me do it. not to my baby." you rant on, the patting on your heart getting more faster aggressive.

"oh y/n sweetie..." Yanni sighs out, coming close hugging you, bringing your hand down from your heart, intertwining it with yours.

Rach leaning into the hug to, the back rubs never stopping turning into swirls. Your sobs appearing once more, when you hear your mother scream for you.

"Y/N!! IT"S TIME FOR YOU TO WALK BABY!" she screams before coming in.

You three sitting at the vanity, allowing them to fix your old tear strained makeup.

You look at your best friends, before nodding off, walking to meet your father.

"There's my baby" he says smiling, his arm waiting for you to intertwine it. "Here I am" your voice coming out straining.

He looks at you eyebrows furring together, your eyes meeting his, mouth going to an instant pout, "I know baby....I'm sorry" he says rubbing your forearm.

"Daddy he ain't him. he ain't him and you know it." You rant out, in a whisper, looking around avoiding his eyes.

"look at me." your dad mutters watching your eyes look up before looking down at your bouquet. "y/n look at me." he says once more firm.

Your glossy eyes meet his, "oh my baby" he says, looking at your eyes. Giving you a close tight hug.

Your bouquet shakes in your trembled hands, eyes scanning everywhere avoiding lucas's eyes.

Your brain working on automatic, saying the words you're supposed, saying your last "I do" before having to mean it seriously.

The officiant looking over to Lucas, "Lucas do you take y/n to be your lawful wedded wife for richer and poorer from this day forth?" "I do" your mother giving mini claps excitedly.

"Y/n do you take Lucas to be your lawful wedded husband for richer and poorer from this day forth?" he asks you. Your eyes finally meeting lucas's before looking down at your bouquet.

"She does!" your mother says behind you, nodding quickly flapping her fan toward her face. "well she has to say it" the officiant replies.

All eyes falling on you, gulping down, before looking around, making eye contact with other in the crowd. "I..." SLAM!

The front door of the church opened, Jackie marching down, getting pulled back by Jermaine, "Jackie man yo-" "I can do the hell I want man" he says putting a hand to his face.

"I've tried time and time again, to tell myself that you would better here without me. I've tried everything baby. writing songs, driving around, going out, but I can't. Because it all ends up leading to you." he rants on.

He walks closer, pointing to his chest, "Baby I need you, I need you y/n." making strides to the alter, "the hell you do" your mother stood up.

"M'sorry mr and mrs. l/n but I want her. Y/n I love you, I want you forever, I want you to be my wife" he raves. The groomsmen guarding him from you and Lucas.

"So if you'll have me, Jackie Jackson to be your lawful wedded husband to love, care and honor." "whatcha doin man!" Lucas yells out throwing his hands up.

"PLEASE Y/N BABY! PLEASE" he yells out, getting closer to the door, you look at your mother, then Lucas. " I DO!" you yell out, releasing your touch from Lucas, "I'm sorry Lucas..." you say before running over to Jackie.

Your tears slipping away, as you finally meet him, lifting you, wrapping your arms around his neck planting your head in his shoulder. uncontrollable sobs leave you. A hand rubbing your back, soothing you, "I got you baby...I'm here, it's okay angel" he whispers in your ear.

You pull away, meeting his eyes, "Missed you s'much sig...so much" you mumble out, a pout filling your face. He chuckles, wiping your tears away.

"WAIT SHE SAID IT! SHE SAID I DO" your mother yells out, "WHOSE GETTIN MARRIED?" the officiant yells out.

You two look over at the officiant before making eye contact, nodding at each other. “Us! We are!” Jackie yells out. You two walk hand in hand to the alter, Jackie making room for himself.

"By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you hu-" the crowd roaring as Jackie's lips clash into yours, leaning down, lifting a leg up pointing your heels.

You two pull from each other, he picks you up spinning a circle jumping up and down.

You look down at him, "I love you sig"

"I love you more angel" he mutters smiling hard.

lovelies 🧁 — @niyahctrl @siighrns @youluvyanni @heavenleighsstuff @swavydadon @szalipcombo @soleantoinette @jermajestyswife08 @fawn4u1nonly @glossyseraphim @plan3tch1ld @maczken @prettygurljo @kisscoqueen @mjsfavouritefish @loveposiie @amoravelee @sayyoulovemeziya @xoxogossipgirl02 @getmoneygirl @gingerrsnapp @trailblazincats @vict-oryy

douceurrrr

dancing with the devil , II

━━━━━ after last night, you didn’t see jackie for a while—thinking he got all he could get out of you and just forgot about you but the truth was far from that!

the weeks after last night didn’t just pass.

they weighed heavily on you.

each morning you would wake up with the taste of him on his tongue and the imprint of his mouth on your skin, and for one stupid moment you thought you would see him again—crawling through your window to keep you company. you even left the window unlocked just in case.

but jackie didn’t come.

by the third week, you stopped checking. by the fifth month you started telling yourself it was better this way. preacher’s daughter. jackson boy. the two didn’t mix, and everybody in in your little town of encino knew it. your father preached against “worldly music” every other sunday like it was personal, forbidding the music or even a simple mention of it in his house.

you started crying. you cried in the shower with the water turned all the way hot so the steam would hide the sound. you cried into your pillow with your face mashed so deep the cotton came away damp. you cried once in the church bathroom after choir practice, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled while two girls gossiped about who was taking who to the spring dance. you wiped your face, fixed your lipstick, and walked back out like nothing was wrong.

you buried yourself in everything that used to keep you safe.

extra shifts at the food pantry.

late nights at the library writing papers you didn’t care about.

sunday school lessons practiced until the words lost meaning.

you smiled at the deacon’s son when he held the door, knowing he’s the suitable boy your mother and father approved of adv had been shoving him down your throat for a while but it was him. it wasn’t jackie. buy you let your mother press your hair every saturday night the way she liked it—neat, tight, respectable, while describing how decent it husband he would be for you and in result, you kept your legs crossed and your voice soft and your eyes down.

but at night, when it’s just you and your thoughts—jackie is all you can think about. you remember the way his tongue had moved and the way he would look at you with that sinful expression, like you were a perfect painting he wanted to make a mess of.

you hated that you could remember.

you hated yourself more for still wanting him and still wanting more.

your mother found you on a thursday .

you were sitting on the edge of your bed in an old nightgown, bible open and unread across your lap, tears sliding quiet down your cheeks. you hadn’t even heard her come up the stairs. she just appeared in the doorway, arms folded, watching you the way only a mother can watch her child—like she already knew every secret you were trying to swallow.

“it’s about that jackie boy, isn’t it?”

your head snapped up so fast your neck cracked. “mama—”

“don’t .” she stepped inside and closed the door with a soft click. “i raised you. i know that look. same one i wore when i was seventeen and thought a boy with a guitar and pretty eyes was gonna save me from the lord.”

you opened your mouth to lie. the words wouldn’t come.

she sat on the bed beside you. the mattress dipped. she didn’t touch you. just looked at you with those eyes that had always seen too much.

“those are the type of boys you have fun with,” she says, voice low and steady. “not the ones you marry. not the ones who stay. they come in your life, they make you feel like the only girl in the world, and then they disappear. stop crying and collect yourself before your father comes upstairs and starts asking questions neither of us want to answer.”

she stood, smoothed the front of her dress, then paused at the door.

“you will meet with the deacon’s boy tomorrow. he’s fit for you. polite. god-fearing. the kind of young man your father will approve of.” her eyes flicked back to yours, soft but final. “all you have to do is show up and be pleasant. do you understand me?”

your throat closed. all you could do was nod.

she left without another word.

right then you thought it was probably best to forget about him and move on. you were ashamed of yourself, you let the devil win over your heart and your mind.

the date was at a small diner near the church, the kind with sticky menus and a jukebox that only played gospel and soft jazz. you wore a pale yellow dress your mother had pressed that morning, hair still in the neat press and curl she liked, lipstick the soft pink shade she said made you look “respectable.”

deacon’s boy—marcus—was already waiting in a booth near the window. clean-cut, pressed collared shirt, hair parted neat. he stood when you walked in, pulled your chair out like he’d practiced it.

“you look real pretty,” he expressed, smiling the careful smile of a boy who’d been raised to say the right things.

your lips pulled into a tight smile. “thank you.”

conversation stayed surface-level the whole time. he talked about choir practice, about how his father was thinking of expanding the youth ministry, about the new car he was saving up for. you nodded in the right places. laughed softly when he made a mild joke about the church ladies and their fried chicken competitions. you ordered a chocolate milkshake you barely touched. he ordered a burger and ate it with neat, polite bites.

halfway through, something made the back of your neck prickle.

the feeling was sharp and sudden—like eyes on you. heavy. familiar in a way that made your stomach twist. you glanced toward the big front window, half-expecting to see him standing across the street under the barber shop awning.

the sidewalk was empty.

no jackie. no one lingering. just a couple walking past and a car rolling by slow.

still, the feeling didn’t leave. it stayed in the back of your mind the rest of the date, quiet but constant, like a hand resting between your shoulder blades. you forced your attention back to marcus, forced another soft smile, forced yourself to answer when he asked if you wanted to walk around the block after.

“that sounds lovely,” you mumbled, even though your pulse was still doing something strange under your skin.

marcus walked you the two blocks home. he talked about the church picnic next month. you nodded and smiled in the right places. when you reached your front steps he slowed, turned toward you, and leaned in a little like he was going for a soft goodnight kiss.

you put a gentle hand on his chest and stopped him.

“let’s just be friends,” you muttered quietly.

marcus looked at you for a second, then nodded. no anger, no pressure. just understanding and slightly defeated.

“alright,” he says. “friends is fine.”

he waited until you were safely inside, then left.

the second the door locked behind you the tears came.

you leaned against it for a moment, eyes already burning, because all you could think about was jackie. the way he used to look at you. the way his mouth felt. the way he disappeared and left you sitting in that diner with a boy who was everything your mama said you should want… and still wasn’t him.

your mother stepped out of the kitchen just as you started up the stairs.

“how was the date with the deacon’s boy?” she asked.

you didn’t answer. didn’t even look at her. you just kept walking, head down, straight to your room, and shut the door behind you before the first real sob could break loose.

you sat on the edge of the bed in the yellow dress and cried quiet, shoulders shaking, face in your hands. every time you closed your eyes you saw jackie instead of marcus. every time you wiped your cheeks the ache in your chest only got worse.

you were still in the yellow dress when the you heard rumbling in the bushes near your window, it go louder and louder until suddenly your window started to scoot up, revealing a disheveled jackie.

jackie climbed through without a word.

he didn’t look tired this time. he looked gutted. shoulders tight, jaw set, eyes dark and glassy. he stood in the middle of your room like he didn’t know whether to cross the space or turn around and leave again.

you opened your mouth.

he spoke first, voice rough and low, like it hurt to push the words out.

“you forgot about me too, mama?” the audacity.

you stared at him. “what?”

“i saw you.” he took one step closer, then another. “sitting there in that pretty yellow dress, smiling at him like he was the only boy who ever looked at you. laughing at his little jokes. letting him walk you home. you forgot about me too.”

something hot and mean flared in your chest.

“forgot about you?” your voice cracked. “you left me. you climbed out my window and disappeared for weeks. i thought your daddy had you locked up. i thought you used me and threw me away. i cried every night, jackie. every single night. and my mama stood in this exact room and told me boys like you are only good for fun, not for keeping. then she told me i was going to sit across from the deacon’s boy and act like i was interested because he’s fit for me. so don’t you stand there and talk to me about forgettin’ .”

tears were already sliding down your face again. you wiped them away hard with the back of your hand.

“i didn’t forget you,” you cried, quieter now, shaking. “i couldn’t. that’s the problem. i just told that boy i only wanted to be friends because the whole time all i could think about was you.”

jackie’s face crumpled for half a second. then he crossed the room in three long strides, cupped your face in both hands, and kissed you like he was trying to crawl inside your mouth.

it wasn’t gentle.

it was angry and sad and starving all at once. you shoved at his chest even as your lips parted for him. he backed you into the wall hard enough that a picture frame rattled. one of his hands slid down to your waist, gripping the soft fabric of the yellow dress like he wanted to tear it. you bit his bottom lip. he groaned into your mouth and kissed you deeper, messier, tongues sliding, teeth catching.

when he finally pulled back just enough to breathe, his forehead stayed pressed to yours.

“i love you, girl” he confessed, voice wrecked. “i been loving you. and seeing you with him made me feel like i was dying. i couldn’t even stay and watch the rest. had to walk off before i did something stupid.”

you shoved him again, weaker this time. “then why didn’t you come back sooner?”

“i couldn’t.” his thumbs brushed the tears off your cheeks. “joseph had us on the road. no phone calls. no nothing. the second we got back i came straight here. i swear to god.”

you stared at him for a long second, chest heaving, eyes wet. then you grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him back down into another kiss—harder, meaner, all the leftover anger and loneliness pouring out of you.

clothes came off in pieces.

the yellow dress hit the floor first. his jacket followed. you fumbled with the buttons of his shirt while he shoved your slip and panties down in one impatient motion. when his fingers slid between your thighs and found you already wet, he made a low, broken sound against your neck.

“already like this for me?” he muttered, almost accusing. “even after you sat across from him?”

you didn’t answer. you just reached down, freed his cock from his jeans, and stroked him once—slow, firm—until his hips jerked.

he lifted you like you weighed nothing, carried you to the bed, and dropped you onto your back. he didn’t bother with more teasing. he pushed your thighs open, lined himself up, and sank into you in one long, deep thrust that punched the air out of both of you.

it wasn’t soft.

it was love and anger and sadness tangled so tight you couldn’t tell where one ended and the next began. he fucked you hard, hips snapping, the old bedframe knocking against the wall with every stroke. you met him thrust for thrust, nails dragging down his back, legs locked around his waist. every time he bottomed out you felt the ache of the weeks without him, the hurt of knowing he’d watched you with another boy and left, the relief of having him inside you again.

“you mine,” he growled against your mouth, voice rough. “you hear me? not his. not nobody else’s. mine.”

“then act like it,” you shot back, breathless, angry tears still clinging to your lashes.

he did.

he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up, and drove back into you from behind so deep your face pressed into the pillow. “shit- jackie!”

you tired to keep quiet as his one hand braced beside your head. the other reached around to rub tight, mean circles over your clit while he fucked you like he was trying to fuck the memory of that diner out of both of you.

“i know, baby. i left this pussy alone for too long.” he cooed.

after a couple more drags of his fingers on your clit, you were already reaching your breaking point. “oh my- jackie m’close.”

jackie hummed. “come on, honey. cum for me.”

you came hard, muffling the sound into the pillow, walls clenching around him. he kept going, chasing his own, muttering broken pieces of your name and ‘i love you’ and ‘i’m sorry’ until he finally buried himself deep and spilled inside you with a low, wrecked groan.

for a long time the only sound in the room was the two of you trying to catch your breath.

jackie eased out carefully, then pulled you onto your side and wrapped himself around you from behind. his arm locked across your waist. his face pressed into the back of your neck. you could feel his heartbeat still racing against your spine.

neither of you spoke for a while.

then, quiet, almost like he was afraid of the answer:

“you still gonna see him again?”

you stared at the wall in the dark, feeling the slow trickle of him between your thighs, the ache in your body, the way your chest still hurt from everything that had happened in the last hour.

“no,” you whispered finally. “i’m not.”

jackie pressed a long, soft kiss to the side of your neck.

“good,” he whispered. “because i ain’t going nowhere this time, mama. i don’t care if i have to stand up to my father.”

outside, the street stayed quiet.

inside, the two of you stayed tangled up in the mess you’d made—love and anger and sadness and the kind of wanting that didn’t care how wrong it was.

for tonight, that was enough.

fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

you ain’t shit-jackie jackson

tag list🏷️: @kitty-trash @kb-d @sadieisagoodgirl @pixieelixer-24 @lovenote777 @britbrat6501 @sugarysweetooth @missharper33 @boomclapxox @justachocolatepyt @kenkenstrawberries @sabbiabbydabbywabbie @bigsisbria @one-celestial-being @cinnamoncunt @burrowsbaddie0609 @cotercat @n1yahsposts @nstosmmr @thatssonanii @crazylady20 @vintageswirll @simply-lovley44 @divinewhimsicalprincess @xoxogossipgirl02 @dollthoughtz @niyahctrl @star-gurl4life @slickdickwitchbitchh @finalfangirl3 @blkkbratt @hearts4mxlay

warnings: smut! mdni 18+, cursing, toxic! jackie, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), slightly rough sex. i think that’s everything

author’s notes: i hope anon and all my other readers enjoy. also i have that requested jaafar fic and like 3 michael requests coming out this upcoming week so stay tuned!

synopsis: you’re over jackie and his horrible ways but he has one thing that just keeps you coming back.

word count: 1.3k

you sat alone in your cold, dark bedroom. rain tapping against rapidly the glass windows, thunder rattling the apartment building.

although you and jackie weren’t in an official relationship, it sure as hell felt like you were. everywhere you went, jackie was not too far from behind.

you need your nails done, he gave you twice the amount. you want a new pair of shoes? five new boxes of shoes were in your bedroom closet the next night.

after fulfilling all his responsibilities and duties as an artist and eldest brother, he would be in your bed, every single night. each time he made love to you, you felt like a brand new woman.

he laid it down so good, you didn’t mind cooking food for him for breakfast, lunch, dinner and occasional dessert. sometimes even cooking for his baby brothers.

but everything that glitters ain’t gold. you and jackie would get into the nastiest disputes. and it would be about the same things every time. he would accuse you of being to friendly, the clothes you wore being too revealing, him not communicating effectively with you. each time you threatened to leave him, he always managed to get you to stay.

it was the third night. the third night in a row where it was only four minutes left on the clock until it struck three. the third night in a row where jackie still wasn’t home.

the first night you brushed it off, he reassured you that he and his brothers were just fooling around in the studio and lost track of time. all your worries went out the window, the lie he knew it was, felt like a complete plausible truth to you. you knew the constant pressures to be as perfect from the man known as their father was hard on all of them, especially jackie since he was the oldest.

the second night you were irritated to say the least. but tonight, was the night that the straw broke the camel’s back.

your thoughts disappeared as you watched the wooden bedroom door creak, jackie’s silhouette appeared at the end of the bed. you quickly hopped up from the firm mattress, following him into the bathroom.

“where the fuck have you been sigmund,” you screamed as your smaller feet followed behind his larger ones. his hands unbuttoning the soaking wet maroon button shirt that clung to his upper half. he silver belt buckle clanging to the floor as he stripped out of his bottoms.

“girl i’m a grown ass man, you don’t get to yell at me like i’m your child, y/n. i’m twenty-five not five.”

“yeah well you’re sure as hell acting like a five year old.” your arms folded against your chest as you walked back into the bedroom, if you were a cartoon smoke would’ve been coming from your nose and ears.

you grabbed the leather duffle bag that he owned from the closet, stuffing as many of his clothes and personal items into it that you could. jackie’s eyes furrowed as he watched from the bathroom doorframe.

“and where the fuck do you think you’re going?” you felt his frame only a few inches behind yours.

“oh i’m not going anywhere, i want you to take your shit and get the fuck out of my house,” you yelled, voice strained as hot, wet tears streamed down your face. he quickly snatched the bag from your grip, tossing it across the room.

“your house but i’m paying all the got damn bills. you’re a fool if you think i’m going anywhere!”

“i fucking hate you, you’re such a bastard. why don’t you go back to whatever bitch you was with and leave me alone.” just as you attempted to storm off, jackie snatched you buy your forearm, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“you gon’ watch that mouth of yours, talking to me like you crazy girl.”

“fuck you jackie.”

you yelped as jackie tossed you onto the bed in one quick motion. he held your hands down with his visibly larger one, the other snatching your panties down from under your black, satin nightgown.

“look at this pussy, all wet, begging to be stuffed with daddy’s dick,” jackie said harshly, his fingers slowly dipping inside of your slickness, your soft moans beginning to travel around the room. you squirmed as he drove his digits deeper and deeper inside you.

“look at you now. was talking all that shit earlier, now you can’t even take these fingers. how you gon’ take this dick girl?”

you felt yourself getting even wetter. even though you were still pissed at him, you loved how jackie was never afraid to be vocal in the bedroom. people often criticized about how quiet and soft spoken he was, he was a polar opposite in the bedroom.

“jackie please,” you whimpered as his tongue swirled around your clit, painfully slow. he hummed against you as he continued indulging in your juices, fingers filling you up just right. your stickiness covering the lower half of his face and two digits. your lower back and hips lifted up from the mattress as you slowly began to grind your hips into his face. you whined as you felt his lips and fingers removed from your heat.

“bend that ass over,” he growled hungrily as he quickly yanked down his boxers, his thick, hardened length oozing with precum, throbbing with excitement.

you moaned as you felt jackie’s thumb rubbing on your little swollen bundle of nerves. he gave your bottom a few firm smacks as his bulbous tip raced up and down your slit. your fingers tightly gripped the sheets as he slid inside of you, pushing in inch by inch.

“jackie i can’t, it’s too much,” you cried out, trying to inch away from him but he caught your hips and gripped onto them, holding you down.

“uh uh, don’t run from it, talk that shit now,” jackie grunted as he pounded into you, your ass meeting his hips with each deep, harsh thrust he gave you, your pussy throbbing around him, juices dispersing all over jackie’s member.

“tell me how this dick feel baby, why you so quiet on me now?”

“it feel so good.”

“you not going no where right? you ain’t going no fucking where,” you cried you as jackie’s hand gripped firmly onto your jaw, your back resting against hid chiseled chest as he pounded you harder and harder. your eyes struggled to meet and focus on his, rolling to the back of your head instead.

“no daddy, i promise,” you struggled to get out, the bed creaking with each snapping of his hips into you. he slowly pressed you back down, your face buried down into the mattress, your ass north. you moaned as you felt him drag his tongue from the small of your back to the top just before the nape of your neck.

“daddy sorry mama, you forgive me yet?” his hips rolling perfectly as he brushed up against your g-spot. your pussy gripped around him perfectly, feeling every throb and pulse coming from his dick.

“huh baby, you ain’t give me no answer, you must want me to stop?”

“no please don’t stop, i forgivee you,” you screamed as your arm reached back to push his back on his stomach. that didn’t stop jackie as he took you hand and held it inside his, fingers interlocked.

you started squirming around as you felt your orgasm peaking around the corner. your wetness splashing against him, his toes curling into the tan carpet that laid inside your bedroom floor. your body quivered as you rode your climax out.

“that’s it, that’s a good girl, i’m cumming too baby,” jackie cooed out as he slowly pumped in and out if your slickness, filling you with every last drop of his seed before collapsing down on the bed next to you. the two of you laid next to each other staring at the white ceiling.

“i told yo’ ass you wasn’t going no where,” he said cockily, a shit eating grin filled his face.

“yeah but keep bring your ass in my house at this time of night, see what happens.”

mikedotorg

having a sleepover with jackie and u have a wet dream👀 (not sure if ive requested this)

somno & i made this best friends AU since its hotter that way!

Your body squirms against the soft sheets, small moans leaving your lips as the fabric rubs against you sensitive skin—your nipples are hard underneath your night shirt and they ache so badly..

Most people would look at the scene and think from the face up, you were getting fucked, i mean, in your dream you were.

But Jackie? he had to wake up to his own friend, bumping and grinding in bed, still sleep but sexually frustrated anyways.

you whimper, turning on your stomach and pressing your face into the pillow, hips still twitching. Jackie can’t help but feel bad and wanna help, so.. he lifts the covers back.

it exposes your body clad in just a oversized t-shirt he lent you, and some cotton panties that were disgustingly soaked through.

he lets out a quiet groan, about to pull back his hand, when yours grabs it fast, eyes still closed but your mouth was rampant. “Don’t.. please, i need help..” you whine.

And how can he say no to that?

he peels off your damp panties and tucks them in his sweats pocket (shhh) before his long fingers start rubbing up and down your wet slit—getting his fingers all soaked.

then hes pushing two inside, causing a porn-worthy moan to leave you lips, hips bucking. “No.. stay still, i got you..”

He scissors his fingers in and out of you with swiftness, thumb working against your clit, drawing out the pleasure and making a knot pop in your stomach.

The orgasm is ruthless—slow and all consuming. “Jackie..” you mumble, looking up at him, about to shut your legs.

“Im not done with you. I helped you, so now you help me.”

douceurrrr

dancing with the devil II is coming todayy.. finally

fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression

feenin’-jackie jackson

tag list 🏷️: @nstosmmr @thatssonanii @crazylady20 @ilovejackiejackson @simply-lovley44 @divinewhimsicalprincess @xoxogossipgirl02 @siyahnijah @dollthoughtz @niyahctrl @star-gurl4life @slickdickwitchbitchh @finalfangirl3 @callmeliptoncuzimtea @boomclapxox @justachocolatepyt @kenkenstrawberries @sabbiabbydabbywabbie @bigsisbria @one-celestial-being @cinnamoncunt @burrowsbaddie0609 @cotercat @n1yahsposts

author’s notes: shout out to the anon who requested this, you’re so real. didn’t proofread per usual but hey at least it ain’t written by a.i. hope y’all enjoy my lovebugs

warnings: SMUTTTT (MDNI), cussing, heated argument.

synopsis: based off the song feenin’ by jodeci.

word count: 1.3k

take my money, my house and my cars

for one hit of you, you can have it all baby

“you know what sigmund i’m tired of doing this with you. i don’t give a fuck what you do anymore, i’m done with you.” your screams echoed the white walls in the house the two of you shared. you stormed out of the kitchen into the living room, jackie hot on your tail. shattered fine china scattered across the pine wood floors, allegedly from you throwing them in his direction.

this had been the third argument that happened this week alone. it all started with that one picture in the tabloids, smack dab onto the front page.

who’s jackie jackson’s new mystery woman? are him and y/n history?

“y/n can you quit naggin’ about this shit. i told you nothing happened. it was a business meeting. why don’t you believe me?” his tone raised slightly.

“oh miss me with the bullshit jackie, i was born at night, not last night. what type of business meeting is at nine o’clock at night, looking at women’s necklaces and rings.” you stomped up the stairs and stormed into the bedroom the two of you shared. usually a place filled with warmth and laughter.

for the past few days it’s been nothing coldness and yelling. you yelling at him, him trying to convince you that you were wrong, this cycle repeated over and over again.

you grabbed your pink dufflebag and began to stuff as much clothes as you can.

“where the hell are you going?” his once soft and smooth tone, was now annoyed.

“i’m leaving, you weren’t concerned about me when you were smiling ear to ear with that heifer, so go call her up.” you tried to push past him but he stopped you in your tracks, snatching your bag out of you hand and chucking it across the bedroom floor.

“will you just shut the fuck up and listen for one second!” you stood there silently, full of shock. even when you cussed him out, calling him everything but a child of God, he never yelled back, let alone used swear words. you sat on the edge of the bed, with your arms folded tightly across your chest.

you looked up at jackie’s face, filled with anger and frustration. his eyes told a different story, they reeked with desperation. even though you were hot with him, you still thought he was the finest man on the planet.

“y/n, you’re the most beautiful woman in world. i would never even think about another woman. the reason i was with her is because she was helping me get this,” you rolled your eyes before widening them at the site of a small black box with a lacey pink bow wrapped around it.

he handed the box over to you, his rough hands brushing the top of your fingers. you slowly unwrapped the bow before opening the box. your mouth left agape as your eyes began to glisten with tears. it was a three stone golden ring, filled with three beautiful diamonds.

“jackie i-,” you were at a true lost of words. you felt so guilty for just jumping to conclusions and not trusting him.

“just listen for a second. i bought you this ring because you mean so much to me. one diamond for our past when we first met. one for our present, which encourages us to live in the moment, together. and one for our future that i can’t wait to share with you. y/n, baby these cars, clothes, money, none of it matters if i don’t have you in my life.”

jackie stood you up before engulfing you into a long passionate kiss. your mouths battling the other’s for dominance. jackie’s warm hands traveling up and down your waist before landing upon your bottom, giving it a soft squeeze.

“take these off baby,” jackie said softly, tugging in your jean shorts before he began to strip down to his boxers, revealing his semi-hard print.

“why don’t you take them off of me,” you teased before laying back on the king sized bed.

he smirked devilishly at you before slithering his way over to the bed and pulling you to the edge by your legs. you buck your hips to assist him as you felt him taking off your shorts, revealing that you were wearing with no panties underneath.

“someone’s being a naughty girl today huh,” he said before latching his lips onto your sensitive bud. he hummed against your wet flower with every lick, suck, and taste of you, leaving you with your eyes rolling in pure bliss. you tried to slightly push him off of you, the pleasure feeling a little too good. he quickly caught on and snaked one of his arms around you, holding you in place temporarily.

"you got this good ass pussy, why you tryna take it away from me," he mumbled against you as he inserted two fingers inside your wetness.

"shit baby, it’s too much," you yelled out as your thighs placed a vice grip around his head, but he didn't seem to care. his head wagging back and forth, his tongue and fingers responding to every moan falling from your mouth made and every shake and shiver that came from your body.

your legs begin to shake rapidly as you come undone all over his face. you laid in the center of your bed, gasping for air. you glance up at him, his face soaked and glistening with your juices, and he's just smiling like nothing happened.

cause makin’ love, everytime we do

girl it’s worse than drugs, cause i’m an addict of you

he quickly tossed his boxers to the opposite side of the room, his rock hard member just springing and oozing with precum. he hopped onto the bed, filled with excitement. he spread your thighs and lined himself up with you. he leaned his head down to press soft, little kisses from the top of your breast all the way down to your navel.

he lined himself up at your dripping entrance before slowing pushing himself inside of you. you both moaned at the sensation of him inside your warm, wet canal. he gripped your waist tightly as he slowly maneuvered his hips against yours.

“fuck, you feel so good around me baby,” jackie moaned out as he continued to roll his hips against yours.

the only sounds that traveled the room were each other's moans, skin slapping, and the headboard knocking back and forth. you looked into each other's eyes intensely as he continued to pound deep into you.

his eyes lingered onto yours face, watching you like an animal that finally caught his prey, hunger and lust filled his eyes. every time you and jackie made love, the two of you could never get enough of each other. the two of you were insatiable around each other.

"shit, just like that," you screamed into his ear as you pulled him closer to your body.

he groaned deeply in your ear, sweat beads began to build up on the both of you guys skin, your legs tangled around his waist like a vine to a tree.

"fuck baby, you bout to make me cum," he moaned as you clenched around his pulsing shaft, you hole soft, tight and wet.

his strokes got sloppier and harder with every thrust into you. you felt your second climax building up again as he continued diving deeper inside of you. your juices began to leak onto his dick, the rest onto the black satin sheets the two of you were entangled in.

"fuckk i'm cumming," he yelled out as he released his warm seed inside of you, staying inside for a few seconds long to make sure you received every last drop from him.

you both laid there, entangled as one, as y'all tried to catch your breath. jackie rolled over to the other side and pulled you on top of his chest. you glanced up at each other and smirked before embracing each other.

“i’m sorry baby, i should’ve trusted you. it’s just when i saw that picture i didn’t know what to think.”

“sweetheart, know that i’m not going no where. i can’t leave you alone. but you gon’ have to stop breaking all of our dishes or we gonna have to eat with our fingers and hands.”

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