the night should’ve ended an hour ago. the event was over, everyone had gone their separate ways, and yet somehow you were still sitting in jermajesty’s passenger seat.
the city lights reflected against the windshield while music played quietly through the speakers. you had your feet tucked underneath you as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone.
“you know,” jermajesty said, turning the volume down, “most people would’ve gone home by now.” you looked over.
“most people don’t have to listen to you complain about parking prices.”
“i’m serious.”
“so am i.”
he rolled his eyes.
“well la parking is a scam.”
“there it is”
“see? this is why i keep you around.”
you laughed. the sound made him smile without even realizing it. there was a brief silence before he reached into the center console.
“you tryna roll up?”
your eyes widened slightly.
“right now?”
“why not?”
you looked around dramatically.
“because we’re sitting in a parking lot?”
“details.”
you snorted.
“you ask that like i haven’t seen you do way worse.”
“exactly.”
after a moment, you shrugged.
“okay.”
*ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚
twenty minutes later, you were both significantly more relaxed than either of you intended. the music sounded better, everything was funnier and for some reason neither of you could stop laughing.
“i’m literally not saying anything,” you wheezed. jermajesty had his head against the steering wheel.
“that’s the problem.”
“what does that even mean?”
“i don’t know.”
that only made both of you laugh harder.
eventually the laughter died down. the comfortable kind of silence settled over the car. outside, people occasionally walked past. inside, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.
you glanced over.
he was already looking at you.
and for some reason, neither of you looked away immediately. your stomach did a weird little flip.
“what?” you asked softly.
he blinked.
“nothing.”
“you’re staring to hard.”
“am not.”
“you literally are.”
“okay maybe a little.”
his voice came out quieter than before.
you swallowed. something about the way he was looking at you felt different tonight.
you looked away first.
“you’re so weird.”
“you’re so pretty.”
the words slipped out so casually that for a second neither of you reacted. then your head snapped toward him.
“…what?”
jermajesty’s eyes widened. like he couldn’t believe he’d actually said it.
“i said you’re pretty.”
your heart nearly stopped.
“jer.”
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“what?”
“don’t do that.”
“do what?”
“say things like that.”
he stared at you.
“why not?”
because i’ve liked you for years, because hearing you say things like that makes me think maybe you could like me back and because i’m not sure i could survive finding out i’m wrong. instead you looked down at your hands.
“because.”
“because?”
you sighed.
“because you don’t mean it.”
his eyebrows pulled together.
“what are you talking about?”
“you’re high.”
he immediately shook his head.
“nah.”
“jer—”
“i’m serious.”
his voice was soft now.
“i think you’re pretty when i’m sober too.”
your breath caught. the car suddenly felt much smaller, much warmer. and the look on his face wasn’t joking, wasn’t playful.
if anything, he looked nervous. which somehow scared you even more.
“you really mean that?” you asked.
he laughed once.
“you have no idea how much i mean it.”
and just like that, every crush-filled thought you’d spent years trying to hide came rushing to the surface.
because maybe, just maybe this wasn’t the weed talking after all. you looked down at your hands resting in your lap. there was absolutely no way this conversation was happening. not with him, not after all this time.
“jer…”
“yeah?”
“you’re messing with me.”
he immediately frowned.
“why would i do that?”
you shrugged.
because it made more sense than the alternative. because the alternative was that the guy you’d spent years secretly liking was sitting a few inches away admitting he thought you were pretty.
and that felt impossible.
“i don’t know.”
he shook his head.
“nah.”
his gaze stayed on you.
“i’m not joking.”
your stomach flipped. you hated how much you wanted to believe him. for a second neither of you spoke. then jermajesty groaned and dropped his head back against the seat.
“okay.”
“okay what?”
“you know, i wasn’t gonna say this.”
“say what?”
he covered his face with one hand which immediately made you nervous.
“jer.”
“this is embarrassing.”
you laughed despite yourself.
“now i definitely wanna hear it.”
“that’s exactly what i’m afraid of.”
“jermajesty, just say it”
he sighed dramatically.
then peeked at you through his fingers.
“…i get jealous.”
you blinked.
“what?”
“see? i knew i shouldn’t have said it.”
“hold on.”
you turned toward him completely.
“jealous?”
he groaned.
“don’t make me repeat it.”
“jermajesty.”
“yes.”
“you get jealous?”
his ears were turning red.
which was honestly the funniest thing you’d ever seen.
“occasionally.”
“of who?”
“guys.” you stared. he stared back.
“what guys?”
his expression said seriously?
“all of them.”
your mouth fell open.
“all of them?”
“okay maybe not all of them.”
you raised an eyebrow.
he thought about it.
“…most of them.”
you burst out laughing.
jermajesty immediately pointed at you.
“don’t laugh.”
“i’m sorry.”
“no you’re not.”
“i’m really not.”
he rolled his eyes. but there was a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“whatever.”
“you get jealous.”
“okay.”
“that’s crazy.”
“thanks.”
“matter of fact that’s actually insane.”
“thank you.”
you laughed again. this time he couldn’t stop himself from laughing too. for a moment it felt normal, except it wasn’t.
because now your heart was beating entirely too fast and every time he looked at you, you forgot how to think. the laughter slowly died down. then another silence settled between you. a different one this time. jermajesty’s fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel.
“can i ask you something?”
your stomach dropped.
“depends.”
“have you really never noticed?”
you frowned.
“noticed what?”
his eyes met yours.
“that i liked you.”
your breath caught.
oh.
oh.
you looked away immediately. which told him everything.
“you didn’t.”
it wasn’t a question.
you covered your face.
“i’m actually gonna jump out of this car.”
“you didn’t.”
he was laughing now.
“i’m serious.”
“how?”
“because i thought you were being nice!”
“nice?”
“yes.”
“i was flirting.”
your head snapped toward him.
“THAT was flirting?”
“what do you mean that was flirting?”
“jer, you bought me a smoothie one time.”
“because you said you liked it.”
“that’s not flirting.”
“it is when i drove twenty minutes to get it.”
your jaw dropped.
“you drove twenty minutes?”
“yeah.”
“why?”
he stared at you. then blinked.
slowly.
“see this is why we’re here now.”
you immediately covered your face again.
“oh my god.”
he laughed.
the kind of laugh that made your chest ache.
“well maybe i couldn’t tell because i’ve liked you forever.”
silence, complete silence.
the smile disappeared from his face
“what?”
your eyes widened. immediately.
“forget i said that.”
“absolutely not.”
“jer—”
“forever?”
you groaned.
“don’t do this.”
“FOREVER?”
“please stop yelling.”
“i’m not yelling.”
he was absolutely yelling.
“you liked me this whole time?”
“you liked me this whole time!”
he pointed at you.
“you could have said something!.”
you pointed right back.
“and you could have said something!.”
“fair.”
“exactly.”
for a second neither of you moved. then you both started laughing.
because somehow, you’d both spent years feeling the exact same thing. and neither one of you had said a word. eventually the laughter faded. your eyes met again. and this time neither of you looked away. the smile on jermajesty’s face softened. softer than you’d ever seen before. his gaze dropped briefly. to your lips. then back to your eyes. your heart nearly stopped.
“can i ask you something?” he asked quietly. you swallowed.
“what?”
his voice got even softer.
“if neither of us were scared…”
the air disappeared from your lungs.
“…what would happen right now?”
and just like that,
you forgot every single thing you were going to say. your heart slammed against your ribs. for a second, you genuinely forgot how to speak. the question hung between you. because you both already knew the answer. neither of you wanted to be the first one to say it. jermajesty’s eyes stayed on yours. waiting. and somehow that made everything worse.
you laughed nervously.
“that’s a crazy question.”
“i know.”
“you always ask crazy questions?”
“only when i’m having a crisis.”
“you’re having a crisis?”
“currently.”
despite everything, you smiled. his smile appeared a second later. that feeling came back again, the one you’d spent years trying not to have. except now you couldn’t hide from it anymore. not when he was looking at you like that. not when he knew,
not when you knew. the silence stretched.
jermajesty shifted in his seat. you noticed immediately. because suddenly you were noticing everything. the way he looked at you. the way his fingers tapped against his leg when he was nervous. the way he kept glancing at your lips before forcing himself to look back at your eyes. your stomach flipped.again and again. “you’re staring,” you murmured. his ears turned red instantly.
“so are you.”
“…fair.”
“…fair.”
you both laughed quietly, then the laughter faded and neither of you looked away. the city lights reflected in his eyes. he looked nervous. which was almost unbelievable. jermajesty was usually the confident one.
the one who always had something to say.
right now he looked just as terrified as you felt.
“can i tell you something?” he asked. you nodded.
“i’ve wanted to do this for a while.”
your breath caught. the air in the car suddenly felt impossibly thin.
“do what?” you whispered.
his gaze dropped. just for a second, to your lips. then back up again. your heart nearly stopped. neither of you moved. it felt like standing on the edge of something. one step away from changing everything. you could hear your own heartbeat. feel the nervous energy buzzing through your body. jermajesty swallowed.
“i don’t wanna mess this up.”
the confession came out so quietly it almost hurt. your chest tightened.
because after years of wondering and
years of hoping, years of convincing yourself he could never feel the same way, here he was. looking at you like you were something precious. something he was afraid of losing.
you smiled softly.
“you won’t.”
his shoulders relaxed.
just a little.
“yeah?”
“yeah.”
for a second neither of you said anything.
then he laughed under his breath.
“we really wasted years.”
“literally years.”
“that’s embarrassing.”
“extremely.”
he shook his head. still smiling.
then his eyes met yours again.
and suddenly neither of you were laughing anymore. the tension returned instantly.
stronger this time. because now there was nothing left unsaid. just the space between you. just the choice to close it. your voice came out barely above a whisper.
“jer.”
“yeah?”
“are you gonna keep looking at me like that?” his smile grew. small, like he was nervous.
“depends.”
“on what?”
“whether you’re gonna kiss me first.”
your jaw dropped.
he immediately started laughing. the kind that told you he couldn’t believe he’d actually said that. “oh my god,” you groaned.
“what?”
“you’re ridiculous.”
“i know.”
you shook your head.
but you couldn’t stop smiling.
couldn’t stop looking at him. and neither could he. eventually the laughter faded. everything always seemed to come back to this. the two of you. looking at each other.
feeling things neither of you could ignore anymore. jermajesty’s gaze softened.
“hey.”
“hey.”
his eyes flickered to your lips one last time.
then back to your eyes. giving you every opportunity to pull away. you didn’t.
and neither did he. slowly, carefully and
he reached up and brushed a loose strand of hair away from your face. his fingers lingered for just a second.
your breath caught. his did too.
and finally he leaned in. the kiss was soft. gentle, neither of you could quite believe it was happening. years of feelings years of missed chances, years of wanting.all packed into one moment. when he pulled back, neither of you moved very far. foreheads almost touching. both smiling like complete idiots.
“wow,” jermajesty whispered.
you laughed.
“wow?”
“that’s all i got.”
“wow.”
“exactly.”
you shook your head. still smiling.
“you’re such a loser.”
his grin widened.
“yeah.”
he looked at you again.
all warm eyes and happiness.
the kind of look that made your heart melt.
“but i’m your loser now.”
and for the first time all night, for the first time in years, neither of you had to wonder anymore.
ㅤꨄ︎ in honour of 2,000 beautiful followers — i present my 2k event ; ‘through every era, him’. a commemoration to every divine era, co-ordinated with each enchanting album, michael jackson gave to us very sincere fans! turned lustful — naturally. a daily fic will be posted on this account ebonymuse and linked here — a sublime array of romantic erotica to display my utmost affection to not only the ethereal man in question, but also my supportive followers ౨ৎ
summary: michael's nanny confessed she's never had an orgasm, & he took that personally.
tags: !smut, hired nanny, late night drinking, confessions, fingering, going down on you, desperate n' dirty sex, multiple orgasms, taboo concept,
a/n: this was requested & I couldn't get my mind off the idea because it was so sexy, anon I luv you.
p.s I got a bit filthy with this one, hope y'all don't mind
You've been hired as Michael's personal nanny for around 8 months — nearly a year. You enjoy it a lot, playing Jenga with his kids all night long, then tucking them in bed with a little story you made up. Even doing the dishes was enjoyable. Also, not to mention that Michael's house was huge, he had countless rooms for each of his specific niches. Sometimes when everyone's gone to sleep, you'll sneak out of your bed & snoop around each of the rooms, just out of curiosity. Your house is so small, so being here is like being on holiday. Although when he’s away touring or just busy, you’d miss his company.
Michael’s been so very kind & just to you ever since you've been working for him. You protested to him that you didn't even need a room at first, that you could just sleep on one of his couches. The idea irritated him.
"I'm not having no lady sleep on a couch, you'll sleep in a proper room, your own. I'll make it real nice for you." He'd say.
& he did. You told him you loved baby pink, so he'd hire someone to paint the walls pink, install clean white coving & put some pretty floral sheets on your bed with a little vanity installed across the room. You were shocked when you saw your bed was king-sized.
“This is too much Michael…”
“It’s the least I could do to thank you.”
You aggressively scrub the stains from tonight's dinner off the bone china plates as you do the dishes, your hair tied up in a messy pony with a tight polka-dot white apron on. Soft rain taps on the kitchen window, the draft of air from the opening crack hitting your face blissfully. You overhear the soft mumbles of Michael & his children a few floors above you as he puts them to bed.
“Goodnight, Daddy. Love you.” They say in their sweet little voices.
“I love you guys too. Sleep well now. Busy day tomorrow.” You hear Michael say.
You smile to yourself, continuing to scrub as you hear heavy footfall coming down the stairs. You straighten your back & flick the hair out of your face. You hate to admit it, but you think you’re starting to develop a little something for Michael. Any little thought you have of him that’s mildly inappropriate, you push it away instantly. You’re a professional after all.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you hear a soft voice mumble behind you.
You turn to see Michael propped up against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His eyes were dark and worn from the intensity of the day. He’s wearing a loose linen white shirt paired with baggy grey sweatpants & his glasses. You only really see him wear them in the evening, you secretly love them.
“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. It’s my job after all, right?” You chirp sweetly as you continue to scrub, a little gentler now.
You always try to appear perfect around Michael, sweet & polite at all times. Not because it’s part of your job to maintain a modicum of respect, but because you want him to like you personally. He’s such a huge public figure, a star — the thought of being close to him excites you.
“I know.” He says, taking the wet plates you’ve washed & drying them off. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman. So nanny or not, it never sits right with me for a woman to be doing all my dirty work, y’know?”
You nod softly, giving him an understanding smile as you continue to lay wet plates on the rack.
A few minutes pass of you & Michael cleaning & drying the dishes together, mindless small talk floating in the air. It'd been a long day for you, the weather was burning hot, which automatically made you sluggish, & the children were constantly begging for your attention while you attempted to do 1000 other tasks at once. So surprisingly, doing the dishes with Michael in the cool of the temperate evening soothed your nerves.
You passed Michael the last remaining dish as he dried it off, placing it in the cabinet with a clank. You pull the plug as you watch the soapy water collect down the drain, feeling Michaels eyes on your back.
You turn around with a loud sigh, attempting to fill in the awkward silence that hangs in the air while you two share a glance, just smiling.
"Well," you cut in, wiping surplus water off your manicured hands on your apron, "you tucked the children into bed?"
Michael takes his glasses off in one swipe, hanging them on his shirt opening.
"Yes I did, they'll sleep tight. I know they bothered you a lot today, they can get pretty active, so i'm sorry about that." He chuckles softly, the sound sending a mere tingle to your belly.
You two haven't had a proper two-on-two conversation since the morning started. After that, tasks had to be done, errands had to be run, so you two never got the chance to really talk. You shake your head with a reassuring smile, your cheeks a little rosy.
"I understand that constantly playing with children can be hard & tiring, especially when you don't want too but,"
You untie your apron from behind, placing it on the counter top. Michael's eyes fall to your waist instinctively, crossing his arms & shifting his feet.
"I like playing around y'know? I find it fun. I like my job." You smile, showing off your pearly whites.
Michael nods slowly, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on yours & not gawk like a pervert at your tanned legs n' thighs under your sundress.
"Good," he said gently. "You know I'd hate to think you're only staying because the pay's decent."
You let out a little giggle from his comment.
"If I didn't like being here I'd be gone by now, trust me."
Something about your comment seemed to please him by the look on his face; he liked having you here. Not because you were doing most of his work for him or taking extra care of his children, but because he liked you. Secretly, he liked having a sweet piece of ass around the house 24/7. He'd never tell you that, though; he's a gentleman after all.
Michael clapped his hands together, turning around to open the cabinet behind him full of all different types of liquor. You watch him pull out an expensive looking bottle of pinot, holding it in front of you.
"its's been a long day, how do you feel about a glass of wine? Do you drink?" He asks.
"Occasionally, yes." You mumble, taking the bottle from his hand as you analyse the label intently.
"Great."
Michael takes 2 slim wine glasses from the bottom cabinet as you read the label, you forget how wealthy he is. The wine you drink is nowhere near as rich as this.
"Burgundy Pinot Noir? Seems nice."
Michael hums in agreement as you pass the bottle back to him. He pops open the cork, the soft glug of wine filled the silence as he tipped the bottle. Deep red swirled into both glasses, a little more than you'd usually drink of an evening. You take a quick peek at his back before he turns to pass you the glass; it's lean & broad. His back bones n' muscles stretch his shirt a little. You feel your bottom lip pull in a little before you stop yourself.
"Here," he turns to hand you a glass, "I hope this isn't too much."
You take the glass & swirl it around a little, smelling the rim. It's rich, fruity, & sexy. The scent travels straight down in-between your legs.
"No it's not. I enjoy your company," you say.
"I meant the contents of your glass," Michael laughs as he takes a short sip, his pearly whites shining.
You feel your face burn up a little from embarrassment, chuckling to yourself.
"Oh! no, this is perfect. The amount is perfect." You reiterate.
Michael smiles to himself, the innocence of your embarrassment flattering him. Sure, you're a full-grown adult, but you have this innocence about you that he picks up on. Your sweet floral scent when you pass him by, or your cute coordinated outfits you pick out every day. He'd always love seeing you in those little sundresses that revealed the smooth of your calves & chest. He'd feel guilty for thinking of you like that, but he couldn't help it. He finds you immensely beautiful & special, he can't help but wonder who gets to enjoy you.
"You wanna go to the front room? Might be a little more comfortable to sit down," he questions, starting to move towards said room.
"Yeah sure, good idea."
You follow him to the front room. It's lit up dimly with a singular chandelier & scattered candles around the room in various places. He usually does this after he puts his children to bed — relishes in his solitude. You never really got the chance to share this opportunity with him. You'd usually go to bed around this time too but since the day was drawn out longer than usual, he caught you just in time. The room smells of him, with notes of incense. You feel your heart rate pick up, for what reason you don't know.
"Do you do this often?" You say, taking a seat on the couch as he follows, plopping himself down a little too close to you, so close you can smell him.
Michael leans back on the arm of the couch, one hand wrapped around the back cushion while the other holds his glass. You swallow, your legs neatly closed as you sit upright, holding your glass with both hands in front of you. You don't know why you're nervous. You've spent time with him before, but this time just feels different. Maybe it's in your head, you try to relax.
"Drink wine?" he questions.
"Invite your employees for a drink after work kinda thing," your voice sweet in comparison to the deepness of his own. You've noticed it gets lower in the evening, perhaps from his lack of energy.
"Uh, sometimes yes. But if it makes you feel better, I enjoy your company the most." He says softly. "Not only do you do a lot around here, but you've got a lovely personality. Im grateful to have you in my home, truly.”
You smile warmly. The thought of your presence being accepted in his home makes you warm.
"Thank you, Mr Jackson. Means a lot." You take another sip, you feel your head start to become weightless, a little more ditzy. You've never been good with your alcohol.
"Oh, & I've been meaning to tell you, please don’t call me that." He pleads, placing a hand on his chest sincerely. "Call me Michael. My father used to make us call him Joseph; it's not the way it should be."
"Well, thank you, Michael. It means a lot." You say, pressing your thighs together a little harder than usual.
“No, thank you.”
A solid 10 minutes pass by of you & Michael sharing each others company, growing closer & closer by the minute, learning more about each other with each sip. Before you knew it, the conversation was drifting from topic to topic without paying any attention to the appropriateness of it. You were both too far gone, only a quarter of your wine left.
"You ever think you'd be somewhere completely different by now?" you questioned. Your body now slouched into the couch, one leg thrown over the other.
Michael stared at you a little longer, his eyes half lidded n' hazy as he tries to understand your question before answering.
"Different how? Like marriage?"
You shrugged, your lips pouty n' stained a deep red from the wine. Your eyes slightly drunken. The state of you making his cock twitch in his pants.
"Yeah, marriage. You never wanna get married? I don't see a ring on your finger," you slur, pointing to his hand.
Michael blushes, scratching his head.
"No, I do. I wanna get married. I've been married, I've had a lot of experience in that sector, but it never works out, y'know."
You nod, a sympathetic look on your face, "I'm sorry about that."
"It's okay. Well, and you? you've never been married?" He asks, sliding a hand through his thick black hair. Part of him inside is smiling at the fact he's able to find out more about you. He didn't ask you to drink with him for that specific reason, but the line is starting to blur.
"No never. I've had a few boyfriends but...they also never worked out. I've never been happy with someone. In all ways."
"So you've never had a serious man?" He inquires, subconsciously sitting up. Now more intently focused when it comes to your love life.
You snicker into your glass, your teeth clanking against the delicate material, "None worth writing home about."
His eyebrows raise in surprise, taking a final sip of his wine before placing the glass on the coffee table beside him.
"Thats very hard to believe."
You furrow your brows with a little tantalising smirk, inching him to elaborate.
"Well you're beautiful," he gestures a hand at your figure. "Smart, good with children. I would've thought somebody would've appreciated you enough to keep you by their side by now."
Tingles n' heat creep up into your cheeks, your lashes fluttering with nerves as you force yourself to smile & thank him.
"Thank you." Is all you can manage.
"Why do I get the feeling every guy you've dated has been a total dimwit?" He whispers. His irritation rising knowing no man will ever take care of you the way he knows he could.
You chuckle, "You'd be right then."
His eyes never leave yours, "What, did they just never treat you right, Is that it?"
You hesitated a little, lips moving to say something but then faltering. Your lips stay around the rim of your empty glass. Michael noticed your hesitation instantly.
"What? Come on!" he teases you, giving your knee a soft nudge.
"No I cant, it's so embarrassing." You laugh, stretching your hand to put your glass down on the table.
Michael points at himself, his face straight all of a sudden.
"Embarrassing? Do you know the amount of embarrassment I had to go through in my career?" He snickers.
He shifts to sit up more, counting on his fingers, "Pepsi Incident, false accusations, women not liking me back. Countless things! I can go on-"
"Okay, okay." You start, pinching your eyes together with your fingers, your cheeks practically on fire at this point.
Michael goes silent instantly as he waits, his hands wrapped around the couch again.
“I’ve just never been satisfied, sexually. I find that important in a relationship.” You come out.
“You what?” He laughs breathlessly, taken back.
The thought of what you're saying to Michael right now doesn’t even register in your brain. You’re just talking, completely relaxed. It’s a nice feeling, yet a little risky to your relationship.
“I’ve never got there.” You close your eyes.
Michael’s lips fall agape as you confess to never having an orgasm. Not knowing what to say. He can’t help but ask more questions, as less perverse as possible.
“Not even…alone?” He says barely above a whisper.
You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall into your hands as you laugh to yourself, completely exposed & vulnerable. You’re drunk, yet after saying it it’s like you’ve sobered up. You're regretting it. You press on, trying to explain yourself.
“I’ve heard my friends talk of it about their relationships, even alone. But I’ve just never been able to, let alone with another person. So there you go, that’s my secret.”
You reach for your glass before realising it's empty, not knowing what to do with your hands. You just keep your head down, avoiding eye contact. The silence is unbearable, the room is practically choking you from how small it feels. Michael doesn't answer right away, though you feel the burn of his stare on you. You cant tell if it's sympathy or judgement. The confusion is killing you. You decide to look up at him momentarily, he's already looking into your eyes. He didn't look shocked or amused, he was just looking at you.
"Wanna know how it feels?" He says, his voice an octave lower.
Your eyes shot up at him, your heart racing so hard you swear he can hear it.
"What do you mean?" You mumble pathetically, your face like a deer in headlights.
"I mean do you wanna know how it feels? just a question, truly."
His poker face isn't telling you jack, it's like he's left you to interpretation. You straighten your back, trying to appear confident.
"Uh, yes. Yes I do."
Michael scoots a little closer to you on the couch, his knee brushing yours. You can tell he's trying to seem as natural as possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, trying to keep your balance upright as you're a little tipsy, so is he.
"You're a kind girl, I cant help but feel genuine sympathy for you. You mean to tell me you've spent all this time wondering what it feels like?"
You clear your throat, crossing your legs as you give him a little nod.
He pouts a little, "& how far would you be willing to go?"
"How far would I be willing to go for what?"
"To feel the one thing no one has ever made you feel."
You think to yourself, the number of times you'd feel terribly aroused at home, knowing you need some sort of release but not knowing how to deal with it. Or the sickening envy you'd feel hearing your friends talk about the way they came so hard they cried. Or even just your string of bad dates that included horrible sex. You hated it; you felt like a child.
You nod, "Far."
"Let me help you then." He snaps with no restraint. You look at his face, searching for any sign of unseriousness. You don’t find anything.
You feel a pulse start to build up in your cunt at the mere thought of Michael helping you. You work for him, you think to yourself. The taboo nature of the idea arouses you, yet you try to let your morals win.
“Help me with that?” You say below a whisper, saying it out loud feels like a crime. “I don’t think that’d be right, I work for you.”
“I know you do, but I’m only trying to help. It stays in this room. Only if you’re willing.” He says, his bottom lip drawing in at the possible reality.
“But what will I tell people-“
“You don’t have to tell anyone anything. This is supposed to be private. Just a person helping another person hm?”
You let the thought ponder in your head, you remember you’ve had fantasies of this man. You’d wake up in hot sweats from multiple sex dreams of him lapping up your pussy with his tongue, only to beat yourself up for it afterwards. The frame of his body, his hair, those sexy pair of eyes that threaten your self respect everyday.
“Teach me.” You nod innocently, your voice laced with a mix of desire & hesitation. You knew deep down you wanted him bad.
“You sure?” He says, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.
“Yes, I want too. I want you to make me feel it.” You scoot forward, blinking rapidly from excitement.
“Take your hair down,” he says, rubbing your shoulder gently.
You follow his command, letting your hair down out of your clip, placing it neatly on the table.
“Good, now just relax okay? you look tense. That’s not gonna help either y’know?” He cooes.
You nod along like you have no brain of your own, completely in his mercy. You like being told what to do, not having to think.
Michael’s now close & facing you, softly rubbing your smooth arms to try & relax you — prepping you. His eyes fall to your lips, ripe & agape. Just begging to be kissed n' licked.
Without any warning, he leans in & presses his lips to yours, automatically moving his hands to cup your jaw; your skin burns under his touch. He proceeds to slide his tongue between your lips, asking for permission to be let in. You hum, allowing him. With no time to waste, you feel him enter your mouth, his tongue dancing with your own, warm & wet. You mewl into the kiss, your brows pressing together as the ache in your core grows larger. You place your hands on his shoulders & squeeze, forcing yourself to have a mind of your own.
"Mhm, there you go. Just go with the flow." He mumbled, his words barely audible, muffled by your puffy lips.
He breaks the kiss, leaving you pouting in loss of contact. Strands of hair stick to the wetness he left on your lips.
"What happened?" You say, your eyes blown out.
"Nothing," he chuckles, "Just relax & lay back, can you do that for me?"
"Mhm," you slowly lay back on the couch cushions behind you, keeping your legs together as your hands remain on your lap. It's like you've been fantasising about this moment, but when it comes, you get all shy. You can tell he's getting off on it by the bulge growing in his sweatpants, but you pretend not to notice.
"Face me, baby." He says, turning you in his direction by your waist. You feel your pussy grow wetter & wetter by the second, your thoughts clouded by the unrelenting desire for his touch down there.
His calloused hands run down from your thighs to your knees, "gonna open now okay?" he whispers, peppering a little kiss on your collarbone.
You nod, keeping your doe'd eyes on him as he slowly pushes your legs open, your sundress riding up as he does so. A few more forced pushes of your legs & they're completely open. Your pink cotton panties stained with a dark circle in the middle from your arousal. You hear him whisper profanities under his breath as he stares at your clothed pussy, your lips showing a little through the material.
"Pink really is your favourite colour, so damn pretty." He purrs, caressing the inner skin of your thighs. The rough texture of his palms against the smoothness of your skin causing little mewls to fall from your lips. He's here to help you, yet the stiffness of his cock keeps betraying him.
Michael places a gentle hand against your chest, "Breathe, baby."
You realise how hard your heart is beating, you can't tell if it's from nerves or pure arousal but you attempt to steady your breathing.
"Sorry, I think I'm just really turned on." You shudder.
Michael caresses your jaw, "Thats the most important factor."
He leans down, placing light little kisses on your thighs & knees. You tremble from the contact. He holds one of your feet with one hand, kissing your perfectly manicured toes as the other hand rubs on your the curve of your ass.
"Please touch me," You beg, giving your pussy a little stroke to signal to him where you want it.
He gently slides his middle & index finger up your wet slit, your arousal totally soaked through the cheap fabric of your panties. Your mouth falls open with no sound at first, just pleasurable shock. The feeling of the tips of his fingers grazing over your clit making you squeak like a slut.
Michael presses a finger to your lips with his free hand, "Try to be quiet okay? I know it's hard." He orders.
His cock is throbbing like a ticking time bomb under his sweatpants at the sight of you all drunken & horny in front of him, legs splayed open waiting for him to help you.
"Mm, sorry." You mumble under his finger, trying to keep your eyes out of the back of your head as he continues rubbing softly.
He tugs at the side of your panties, moving them to the side slowly to reveal your glossy folds. There might as well be a twinkle In his eye as he stares.
"Damn," He breathes out, giving your swollen clit a rub with his thumb.
You arch your back immediately, covering your mouth as he rubs your clit tantalisingly slow.
"Fuck, Michael. I swear It's never felt that good." You gasp, drawing your bottom lip under your teeth painfully hard.
He smiles, his ego rising from your comment. He proceeds to rub in small circles with his index & middle finger in a steady rhythm, gathering your juices from the bottom to rub all over your clit.
"Let's get this down," he says to himself, pulling the upper half of your dress down with one hand, letting your perky tits fall free. He gawks at the view, forgetting this isn't about him — it's all about you.
You feel heat rise in your face again, you've never felt so exposed & horny in your life.
He gropes the curve of your breast with his free hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers as he continues his work on your pussy.
"Feeling good, ma? You need to tell me."
Your head falls back on the arm of the couch as you nod, your stomach twitching from the pleasure as you try to stop your moans from erupting — you're soaked for him.
"Feels so good Michael," You cry out. The muscles in your thighs starting to clench as you chase something you don't even know what.
He takes his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt in a frenzy as he tosses it on the floor. He comes back, though this time you feel 2 slender fingers slowly slide in you, curving just right.
"Oh my god," You whine, your eyes falling into your head.
He continues to roll your nipple between his fingers with his free hand, all while kissing you simultaneously.
Your body wasn't the only thing he'd ogle at, your lips were insanely arousing to him too, he didn't know where to touch or kiss you now that he had you like this.
Your hand snaps into his hair, grabbing on for dear life as you feel yourself begin to tremble & shake, he feels it too.
"Michael? Something's happening." You whimper, your brows pressed tight as you look at him for an answer, your eyes glossy.
"Thaats it," he encourages you. "You feel it baby? I ain't stopping."
Immense pressure coiled tighter inside of you, every breath becoming harder & harder to catch the more he fingers you perfectly on your g-spot — no one's ever hit the right spot, yet he seems to know exactly where you like it.
"Michael, Michael!" You cry.
"Yes," he hisses, "Let go." He leans down.
You feel his supple mouth latch onto your pussy, lapping & sucking gently on your sensitive nub as he continues to curl his fingers into you. You break immediately; the tension that had been building for minutes reaches a point where it feels unmanageable. The coil in your belly snaps, something in you lets go, your muscles tightening as your pulse thunders in your ears with blind spots covering your vision.
You squeal as you cum on his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you tug on his hair for support. Once you had the energy to lift your head & come back to life, you look down at Michael, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices as he pants, smiling at you warmly. He sits up, licking n' sucking his fingers like a child with candy.
"Thats an orgasm," He smirks, a cocky look on his face. He brings a finger to your mouth, "Taste yourself, you did that."
You hesitate before latching your mouth around his finger, sucking on it looking at him. You taste sweet, just how you're feeling.
"I didn't know I could do that," You bite your lip, feeling a sense of achievement wash over you as Michael watches you in amusement.
"Glad I could help." He chuckles.
You stay lying, your panties still shifted to the side. You pull them off in one swift motion, throwing them on top of his shirt on the floor. You don't know how, but your orgasm gave you a wave of confidence. You feel like you could do anything; you feel like a woman.
"Though," You press on the bulge through his sweatpants with your foot, it's extremely hard.
"I wanna cum again, but with this," you plead, not wanting to say the word.
He bites his lower lip as he thinks about it, running a hand through his hair. Touching you is one thing, but fucking his nanny on his living room couch while his children are asleep, that's messy — & he liked it.
Before you could process what's happening, he's rolling his sweats down, giving his cock a little grab before finally sliding off his boxers too. You salivate at the sight of him. Thick, slender, & deep in colour. You instinctively open your legs wider, inviting him over. He climbs over you, one hand braced next to your head while the other juts your chin up for you to look at him, your eyes too busy on his cock.
"No one can know about this, you hearin' me?" He presses.
You nod frantically, "I promise."
You reach out to touch him, you give him a few little strokes. Your hand felt tiny up against it. He drops his head on your chest from the feeling of your hand movements. You let out a little moan as you attempt to line him up to your weeping slit, the feeling of it rubbing against you driving you crazy. You buck your hips forward, desperate to have him inside of you.
"Let me baby, relax." He takes over, lining himself up with your entrance.
You feel him begin to crown you a little, already feeling a bitter sweet sting start to form.
"Please, all in." You beg as you hold your legs open, your hands in the backs of your knees.
"Dammit,"
Michael sinks all of his length into you, the pleasure even more intense than before. You quickly shoot your hands to his shoulders to push him back a little as you squeal, your lashes fluttering as you look at him from beneath them. You start to move your hips desperately, you loved watching how it disappears & reappears beneath you, he's the biggest you've ever felt. It feels like you're having sex for the first time again. Your hands return to the backs of your knees again, spreading yourself wider for him greedily.
The sound of your mixed arousal is like music to his ears as he begins to form a steady rhythm with you. He manages to hit your g-spot constantly, never missing.
"You're gonna be the death of me." He grits, grabbing one of your breasts as he leans down to suck on one of your nipples slowly & sensually.
You whimper into his clammy hair as he's leant down, your eyes rolling back as you begin to feel the same coil in your belly you felt earlier — now able to recognise it. You let go of your thighs, your strength faltering as you come closer to your release. Michael's hands quickly replace yours, pushing your thighs back a little as he continues rolling his hips into you.
“Mm—harder,” you beg, looking up at him all pretty. Your eyes sparkling with quiet mischief, “fuck me harder.”
The sweet sound of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes, eager for you to come again. He wants that for you.
"Michael, It's happening again I feel it. I think i'm gonna come." You warn, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel his mouth press against yours hot & messily.
He pulled back an inch from your lips, just enough to murmur, "Come for me," as he planted an encouraging slap on the side of your ass.
With a sharp cry buried deep into his shoulder, you come hard. Your vision is blocked out once again, the same pulse in your ears as you squeeze around him. You twitch beneath him.
Michael planned to last longer in the hope of pleasuring you for as long as you saw fit, yet the way your pussy clenched around him brought him to a sharp halt instantly.
"Oh, god." He whines, pulling out & stroking himself desperately as he finishes all over your thighs. You hum in pleasure as you watch his warm release slide down your skin slowly.
You pant, looking up at him with a satisfied smile as he runs a hand across your cheek, droplets of sweat from his hair hitting your forehead.
"Thanks for helping me."
Michael brushed a strand of hair from your face.
"Anytime." He giggles.
"For the first time in my life, i'm able to understand what everyone is talking about."
the difference between jaafar and juliano at the premiere has me giggling so much. jaafar saying one word in japanese while juliano is a prodigy at it at this point.
in which perv!bsf!mikey tries really hard to be a gentleman for your first time together, but you just feel soo good >⩊<.ᐟ
cw: p in v, soft dom, kinda ooc mike SRRYY, honestly reader is a bit ditzy, coercion, virginity loss for both cuties, freaky ass tear kissing...smile.
porn with a smidge of plot
a/n: omg yall went crazy in the comments asking if yall wanted this, so here it is!! it was originally gonna be a blurb so, sorry if it reads as such!! also ommmfghhh he looks so yummy in that pic... ˙𐃷˙
wc : 1.5k ish
inspired loosely by the lovely @/glossiercheeks manipulative bsf mike!! go check out their work its so so yum and NOT ai lmao
"please, baby, you trust me dont you?" michael mumbles into the sensitive skin, his lips catch on your neck. you whine quietly. "but–mikey, were just friends..."
he pulls away slightly, to gaze apon your flushed face. "you trust me, dont you?" he knows hes not really asking, knowing your blind devotion to not upsetting him, a trait hes never been happier for you to have, then is this momment.
nibbling on the fat of your lip momentarily, you catch his gaze. its heavy with a fog you cant name. shivers twirl up your spine as you gaze away again. "yes, michael, i trust you." you mutter faintly
you catch his growing smirk in your peripheral.
"friends can touch eachother," he peppers two soft kisses on the apple of your cheek. "friends can make eachother feel good."
you curse mentally at his ability to make you mush at his stupid words.
your silence irritates him, "youre really gonna leave your bestfriend high and dry?" he sighs, as if your pulling away more. you panic, shaking your head. "you know what I go through?" he says, suddenly standing, moving to pace infront of you. "being me? I cant even go outside of the gates without being bombarded."
"mikey–"
"do you want me to find another girl, y/n?" he says, with a sterness you'd rarely hear from him. pausing infront of you.
you shake your head once more. the thought genuinely frightens you. you've knows michael for so long, the thought of him seeking out a different woman, makes your heart sink. "no, no! michael, im sorry!"
he continues without acknowledging you. "really? do you want me to go out of my way, to find another girl to help me, when you're here?" his condescending tone makes your thighs press slightly together.
"no!" you pause, looking to the carpeted floor." "ill—ill help you, michael." you say huffing softly.
you can practically hear his grin, "yeah? youre gonna be good for me?" he says in a low voice that makes your stomach tighten. you nod.
he closes in on you slowly, like your subdued prey. long fingers finding your jaw, he lifts your gaze to his.
his smile softens into something sweeter. he gently taps the side of your thigh. "lay down, baby, I'll be a gentleman—i promise."
swallowing thickly, you inch back, before letting your back rest atop the bed.
his large palms are careful drifting down the curves of your sides, taking in the delicious figure underneath the flimsy cami you wore. "so beautiful." he mutters, more for himself to hear than you.
he notices your nervous fingers twiddling with the duvet under you, he smiles softly at your juvenile shyness around him.
he unbuttons your shorts, unzipping them patronizingly slow. your breath quickens as the denim drops quietly on the floor. youre to nervous to look at him, but you hear almost a grunt, he had to physically bite back the noise at seeing your frilly pink panties. he was sure you planned that just for him.
jumping slightly at his warm touch on your abdomen, your fingers halt his. "michael—ive never-"
"i know, angel," he paused, speaking quieter. "me neither." his confidence cracks slightly, but its back as soon as it left. "but i like it like that, you all f'me." he says with a nod to himself. before continuing his hands up your shirt, you let him.
his skin has never buzzed like it does now. electricity shoots through him as if hes touching a static television every time he runs his fingertips over your warm skin or presses a kiss along your sternum.
you look holy.
you are a mosaic window of lust, the way your silky skin absorbs the rooms dim light and the scarlet blankets caress your figure, the downcast of shadows from your lashes brushing over your cheekbones, the milky moon veiling you.
holy is an understatement.
michaels heart is pounding in his ears, as you lean up, taking him in your hands. is this what hes missed out on for so long? how is sex sinful when this feels so fucking good? it wont be sinful for long, as you line him up to your hole, hes confirmed in his head—you will be his wife.
he braces himself on his arms on your sides, as your broken whine cracks the air, the air in his breath is knocked clean out, as he enters your pussy slowly.
he makes it half way in, before your hole constricts, tightening, your body is begging him in. you lay fully back, he can see the tears glittering over your warm eyes. "shh—sh, baby, youre so good for me." he whispers, barely audible as he continues his hips forward.
youve never felt so full , his cock opening you in a way you hardly knew possible. pain throbbed around the intrusion, as he halted fully in you, it soothed into unadulterated pleasure.
he shivers at your small hands embracing his biceps as he settled, letting you (him) adjust.
"m—michael, youre so big!" you cry out, his knees buckle slightly at that, which slides him out of you, hes quick to push back in which elicits a moan from you. you attempt to close your legs out of instinct, but michaels quick to pry them back open, gaze not breaking from watching you reconnect repeatedly.
hes trying so hard to keep your pleasure at the forefront of his brain, but can you blame him when he starts thrusting a little too fast, in and out of you? hes sure he'll have a chance to make it up to you later, but for right now. hes chasing the primal voice in his head thats coaxing him in and out of your tight hole.
your crys and moans are muffled in his ear as he picks up his pace, streching you fully around him each time he slams back into you.
he leans down, grip tightly on your hips, to keep you in place while he fucks you. he watched for a moment as a tear slides down your flushed cheek. as another threatens to break, his lips connect. "please dont—dont cry angel, you look so pretty, baby." he mutters.
he burrows his head in your neck. he feels your dull nails break the skin on his back, sending his cock into you.
he can feel his finish building up, you writher under him, your own release following suit.
his grip is bruising as he lifts his head to meet your hazy gaze.
"i love you—i love you y/n" he cries out, his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncordinated. "s—say it back" hes practically begging.
"oh! i love you michael!."
stars flood his vision as he pushes fully into you, flooding your poor pussy. you whine out, back arching into him as you cum.
everything is damp, the lewd smell of sex in the air as you both gasp for air. he lays his head between your breasts.
the room stills for a pause.
"i meant it."
a/n:....sssooo how are we feeling....grin.
i got LOST IN THE SAUCE BROOO, euphoria finale fucked me up so bad so i had to dial in on a dead guy fucking you guys. i love the internet, and more so you guys!! thank u for the hype to get this done!!! plzplzplzplz make reqs guys I BEG I BEG IM ON MY KNEES TELL ME WHAT U WANT FROM ME FUUUHH
anyways, its late as balls, gn. and rip u know who (euphoria)
summary: a perfect beach day with your sweet boyfriend should have ended in peace, but when his brothers’ usual teasing pushes Michael’s insecurities a little too far, you’re quick to remind him exactly where he stands ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.
warning: sexual themes, smut, 18+, jealousy, insecurity & slight mild emotional hurt, fluff, family teasing, slight possessiveness, shower sex, already an established relationship, maybe a bit of a breeding kink thrown in there lol
a/n: hope u like this cute lil story!!! i have been quite busy with work and moving apartments, so i tried to write this quickly in between the chaos, have a nice weekend everyone <3♡‧₊˚
A comfortable silence settled inside the baby blue Cadillac as a sweet beach day slowly came to an end. The smoldering California heat was finally beginning to subside.
This was one of those rare days when your usually busy boyfriend had cleared his schedule completely — an entire day devoted to you.
The scent of sunscreen and coconut lingered on both your skin. Your hair was still damp with saltwater, beginning to dry into soft, messy waves. Your curls looked untamed and golden, lightened by the sun. A warm, sun-kissed glow had settled over your skin.
You'd had a wonderful day, and you were silently grateful Michael had brought his Polaroid camera to capture it all.
Maybe it was the excitement of a new relationship — or the fact that you hadn't seen your sweet, hardworking boyfriend in an entire week — but you couldn't help staying close to him in the back seat. Almost draped over him.
Your fingers remained intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder, both of your curls blending together in the lingering warmth.
You glanced up at him instinctively. He looked down at the same moment. A soft grin spread across both of your faces before he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You held his gaze for a moment longer — soft, loving, intense — his eyes catching the sunset so perfectly they looked like burning amber.
Your intimate moment came to a gentle halt as the car slowed to a stop. Sweet old Bill was probably tired of driving lovestruck youngsters around all day. Although he kept his distance and mainly handled pickups and drop-offs, he'd been around long enough to witness plenty of your softness together.
Bill adored Michael and you, of course — but sometimes the two of you were so in love it was basically a public service announcement, and he had no choice but to play third wheel.
"Finally home, lovebirds," the older man said, his brown eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.
You gave him a bright smile and a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Thank you, Bill."
The man was practically a Jackson family member himself, and you couldn't help but see him in a fatherly light sometimes. He had a soft spot in your heart.
Michael gave him a quick handshake of thanks through the leather seats before stepping out. He immediately reached back for your hand, helping you out of the car.
The midday heat had softened into something gentler. The air smelled faintly of jasmine blooming nearby.
You walked side by side toward the house when Michael slipped an arm around your waist.
"This has really been one of the best days I've had in a while," he said, looking at you with the most lovesick expression in his eyes. "My beautiful angel."
Something warm spread through your chest at his words, your smile softening as you looked back at him — like you still couldn't quite believe he was real sometimes.
"I love you, Mikey."
For a moment, his expression only deepened, like he was holding onto that sentence.
"I love you too, angel."
He squeezed your waist lightly before letting go as the front door came into view. He opened it slowly, and you both stepped inside.
Thankfully, most of the family members were out. The lack of cars outside confirmed it — except for a few.
Your suspicions were confirmed the moment loud commotion drifted in from the kitchen. You exchanged a quick look with Michael.
Ah yes — the sweet-talk trio.
Michael had always appreciated how much you liked his family, and they liked you just as much. But whenever even one of them was around — or all three together — it never took long before the teasing started. Words like foxy, sultry, and trouble were thrown around far too easily, always followed by jokes about how Michael had somehow "managed to land you" of all people.
Michael hated it more than he'd ever admit. Not because they were trying to be cruel — but because it always stirred something uncomfortable inside him. There was a trace of insecurity there, quiet and unspoken. Like he couldn't quite believe you were real — or that someone like you had chosen him at all.
You noticed it, even if he never said it aloud.
That's why you always called him pet names like pretty boy or angel face. Because to you, he wasn't just talent and charm and mystery — he was beauty itself. Soft. Rare. Irreplaceable. You just wished he could see it as easily as you did.
You walked into the kitchen hand in hand.
You were wearing a tiny denim halter dress that left little to the imagination, a gold pendant resting at your chest with a delicate "M" engraved into it — a gift from him, of course. On your feet were your wooden platform clogs, adding to your sun-drenched, effortless look. You looked like you had stepped straight out of a magazine.
Michael, however, could only look at you in awe — and slight nervousness. He already knew what was coming.
As soon as you rounded the corner, the three of them were there — Jackie, Marlon, and Jermaine sprawled around the kitchen island, lazily tossing a tiny basketball back and forth between them before they noticed the two of you.
Jackie spotted you first and let out a low whistle.
"Well, damn," he grinned, giving you a quick once-over. "Mike really let you leave the house dressed like that? Man's braver than me."
You rolled your eyes dramatically. "Ew."
Marlon immediately burst out laughing.
The flirting never really fazed you. They were Michael's brothers before they were anything else, and the idea of entertaining them like that was honestly almost funny to you. Besides, you knew it was all playful — none of them actually expected anything from it, and if anyone ever crossed a line, you would've made yourself perfectly clear.
Marlon laughed at your reaction, spinning the basketball on one finger before pointing toward the gold pendant around your neck.
"You see that 'M' around her neck, Jackie?" he said. "You ain't got a chance, brother." Then he looked at you with an exaggerated grin. "But me, however…" He placed a hand against his chest dramatically. "Now that's a different story, sweetheart."
You snorted. "Yeah right, Marlon."
Laughing softly, you tossed the beach towel in your hand at him, earning a loud cackle from the kitchen.
Michael, meanwhile, let out a long sigh. "Are y'all done now?" he muttered, already making his way toward the fridge.
Before anyone could answer, Jermaine cut in immediately, like he'd been waiting for his turn all along. He leaned back against the counter with a smirk.
"She trouble in that dress," he said casually. "Legs for days, all sun-kissed and pretty… got Mikey all lovesick." Michael shut the fridge door harder than necessary. Jermaine only grinned wider. "Bet he spent all day rubbin' sunscreen on your back and feedin' you grapes."
"Oh my God," you groaned, covering your face briefly. "You're just jealous he actually has somebody to rub sunscreen on."
The kitchen immediately erupted into loud whistles and dramatic "ooohs." Marlon nearly doubled over laughing while Jackie pointed at Jermaine like he'd just lost an argument.
You caught the small, half-proud smile tugging at Michael's lips before he reached for your hand again, pulling you closer against his side.
Jermaine noticed instantly. "Man, look at him," he laughed. "Holdin' her hand immediately like she gon' disappear." Michael's grip tightened slightly. "Our baby brother gone soft."
"Jermaine," Jackie warned through a grin.
But Jermaine kept going anyway. "You better keep an eye on her dressed like that, Mikey. Leave her alone for one second and somebody gon' steal her."
The kitchen went a little quieter after that. Marlon's grin faltered. Jackie shot Jermaine a look.
Michael's jaw tightened.
"I'm not soft," he snapped suddenly, voice sharper than before. "And y'all need to stop."
Marlon raised both hands innocently, already laughing again. "Ooh, he mad now."
That did it.
Michael dropped your hand, cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment and irritation, before turning on his heel and storming out of the kitchen without another word. His footsteps disappeared quickly down the hallway.
Your expression immediately fell. "Mikey — come on…"
Usually, the teasing was harmless, mainly done to get a reaction out of Michael more than anything else. And you always reminded him of the same thing: no one could ever steal you away from him. Still, you knew his brothers could be knuckleheads sometimes — and this time they'd pushed too far.
You slowly turned back toward the trio, disappointment written clearly across your face.
"I expected better from y'all," you said firmly, pointing directly at Marlon. "Especially you."
"Aw, c'mon —"
Before Jermaine could even defend himself, you launched the cold water bottle in your hand straight at him.
"That's assault!" Jermaine shouted between laughs, jerking his head out of the way just before the bottle flew past him.
You ignored him completely, already hurrying down the hallway after your poor boyfriend.
A loud bedroom door slam echoed upstairs.
You quickly made your way up the staircase before turning toward his room, a small breath leaving you as you pushed the door open.
Michael was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. Visibly upset.
"Mikey…"
He didn't answer at first. The teasing had gotten to him more than usual, stirring up all those quiet insecurities he always tried to bury.
You slowly approached him before stopping directly in front of where he sat. From this angle, you almost towered over him slightly. Gently, you reached down and held his colder cheek in your warmer hand, slowly rubbing circles across it.
"Hey," you said softly. "Talk to me."
Michael let out a frustrated breath. "They always do this."
You brushed your thumb across his cheek. "I know."
His gaze dropped to the floor. For a moment, he seemed unsure whether he wanted to say the next part out loud. Then he did.
"Sometimes I think they're right."
Your heart squeezed. "About what?"
Michael swallowed. "About you being too good for me."
The confession came out so quietly it almost hurt to hear. He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head like he already regretted saying it out loud.
"I mean… I see the way people look at you," he added softly. "You could have anybody. Anyone would be lucky to have you." He swallowed again. "I just… don't know why you picked me."
You immediately shook your head. "Oh, angel face."
His eyes finally lifted to yours.
"Michael, do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"
A weak laugh escaped him. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
You threaded your fingers through his curls. "You're talented, kind, thoughtful, hardworking, beautiful — and somehow you still act surprised that I love you."
A faint blush spread across his cheeks. You smiled.
"Trust me, pretty boy. If anybody's lucky here, it's me."
The blush deepened immediately. He looked at you for a second longer than before, like he was trying to hold onto what you said.
Then you grinned. "Aaaand…" you continued, giving one of his curls a gentle tug and earning a quiet little huff from him, "you've got this wonderful singing voice, this crazy passion for everything you love, and the foxiest lady completely devoted to you."
"Aaaand…" you teased again as his face turned even redder, "one flash of that smile and I melt like ice cream in the sun."
"Baby…" he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.
You couldn't help but laugh with him, gently straddling his lap. You peeled his hands away from his flushed cheeks and cupped his face with both of yours, thumbs stroking tenderly.
"You're so pretty, Mikey," you murmured, affection thick in your voice. "You're mine… and I'm all yours."
Michael's breath hitched. The frustration in his eyes melted into something warmer, hungrier. He looked up at you like you were God's own gift — sun-kissed and glowing, somehow all his.
"You really mean that?" he whispered, voice low and rough around the edges.
"Every word."
You held his gaze for a moment longer, watching the way he seemed to soften under your words. Then you traced your thumb across his lower lip before slipping it gently into the warmth of his mouth.
He closed his eyes and sucked softly, almost in awe, his tongue brushing the glossy red of your nail. A faint flush rose to his cheeks almost immediately, his breath catching slightly as he looked at you again.
"And you know what, Mikey…?" you continued, voice dropping sweetly.
His lashes fluttered as he met your gaze, still a little dazed, before giving a slow shake of his head.
"I think you've been such a good boy today," you murmured, voice soft and steady. "Taking me to the beach… treating me like I'm heavenly and divine… and being so patient when your brothers tried to rile you up." A small pause. "I think you oughta be rewarded."
A soft hum vibrated against your thumb. You slowly pulled it from his lips with a quiet pop.
Michael let out a shaky exhale, already shifting beneath you like he couldn't wait another second.
You climbed off his lap, and he moved to follow like an eager puppy. Before he could fully stand, you placed a gentle hand on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, your fingers splayed warmly over his skin. His breath hitched at the contact.
"Uh uh, not yet, pretty boy," you murmured, smiling down at him. "You gotta watch me undress first."
"O-okay…" he whimpered, eyes wide and hazy with want as he stayed right where you put him.
You slipped off your chunky wooden clogs first, the illusion of being as tall as your boyfriend cracking immediately. Your red-manicured toes — matching your fingers — sank into the soft carpet. Michael watched with parted lips and that same reverent hunger, anticipation curling warmly in his stomach.
You reached behind your neck and untied the thick denim straps of your halter dress, then slowly peeled it down your body. As the fabric slipped over your chest, the cute polka-dot bikini came into view. Michael's breath caught sharply. You saw the way his swim trunks tented, his hand twitching desperately in his lap like he was aching for relief. A quiet, needy sound escaped him as he palmed himself through the thin fabric.
You paused with the dress right above your navel, giving him a teasing little pout.
"Angel… please," he breathed, looking absolutely devastated.
"That wasn't very good, was it, Mikey? I didn't say you could touch."
He could only stare at you in awe, eyes wide and shining with want.
You stepped closer, nearly between his spread knees, then continued sliding the dress down your hips until it pooled at your feet. You bent slowly to step out of it, your chest dipping right into his eye line, the delicate gold "M" pendant gleaming between your breasts in the golden sunlight.
As you straightened up again, you slowly reached behind your back and began untying the bikini top. You were so close to him now, barely inches away — close enough to hear the way he gulped.
No matter how many times you'd been intimate, Michael always reacted like this — like it was the first time he was seeing you bare, like he was falling in love with you all over again right in front of your eyes.
The bikini top slipped from your fingers and landed with a quiet thud on the floor. Michael's eyes were wide, dark with hunger and awe, drinking in the sight of you like you were something sacred.
He reached out with trembling hands, gently grasping the sides of your thighs before pressing his forehead against your stomach, breathing you in like he needed you to survive.
You couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped you. You threaded your fingers through his damp curls, tilting his face up gently.
"Wanna help me with the last piece, pretty boy?" you asked, voice low and sultry.
He looked up at you with the most loving, hungry expression — those big doe eyes full of adoration and want — and nodded almost shyly. "Y-yes," he breathed.
You guided his hands to the ties at your hips. His fingers were shaky with anticipation as he fumbled with the strings, but he eventually managed to pull them loose. The bikini bottoms slid down your legs and pooled at your feet, leaving you completely bare before him.
For a moment, Michael just stared, lips parted, like he couldn't quite believe his luck.
You gave him a soft, teasing smile before turning and walking slowly toward the bathroom, hips swaying gently. You paused at the doorway and glanced back over your shoulder with a playful pout.
"What? Aren't you gonna join me?"
You didn't wait for an answer — just stepped into the bathroom at a light, teasing pace and slipped into the shower, turning the water on and letting the warm spray fill the space with steam.
Behind you, you heard Michael scrambling to his feet, nearly tripping in his hurry. Clothes were shed in a clumsy rush, and then the shower curtain was yanked open. He stepped in without hesitation, pulling you into a hungry kiss the second the water hit his skin.
Your back met the cool tile wall as his body pressed against yours. You could feel how hard he was, flushed and aching, pressed warmly against your stomach. Heat pooled between your thighs at the contact.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his wet curls as the hot water cascaded over both of you, drenching your hair and turning your curls into heavy, dripping strands.
Michael moaned softly into your mouth before trailing desperate, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, like he couldn't get enough of you.
His hands slid down your body with that familiar mix of shyness and hunger, reverent even now. One slipped between your thighs, and you gasped as his long fingers gently stroked through your folds, teasing with careful devotion.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck, voice husky and full of awe, barely rising above the rush of water. "So wet already… I can't believe you're mine."
He eased one finger inside you, then another, curling them slowly while his thumb found your clit and began rubbing in gentle, devoted circles. Your hips bucked into his hand, and he let out a soft, shaky breath against your skin, pressing his forehead to your shoulder like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
"It's only you that makes me feel like this, Mikey…" you moaned, voice trembling. "The only ever."
He pulled back just enough to look at you. The warm water had flushed his face a deep rose, droplets clinging to his lashes and tracing luminous paths down his cheeks and jaw. In the soft golden light filtering into the shower, he looked almost ethereal — those wide brown eyes dark with want, his curls plastered wet against his forehead.
A slow, gorgeous smile broke across his face before you pulled him into a desperate kiss.
Every time you got close like this, the shy boy who blushed at the mere thought of intimacy seemed to melt away. In his place was someone bolder, more confident — someone not afraid to use his words and tell you exactly how much he wanted you. It never failed to make your knees weak.
"God, baby… you feel so perfect," he murmured through the kisses as his fingers pumped deeper, steadier. "So warm and tight around my fingers… My beautiful angel. Look at you, taking me so well."
You could only moan into his mouth, biting gently at his lower lip as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. His thumb circled your clit with more pressure now — steady, relentless — while his fingers curled just right against that perfect spot inside you. The contrast between the quiet, blushing Michael everyone else saw and this version of him, here in the steam and golden light, sent heat flooding through your entire body.
"You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, voice thick with emotion. "Moaning for me… all mine."
The pleasure built slowly, deliciously, your moans echoing softly against the tiled walls. But right before you tipped over the edge, you reached down and gently grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand.
Michael pulled back, breathing hard, eyes hazy with lust but flickering with that familiar thread of worry. The careful, gentlemanly side of him always surfaced at moments like this.
"Did I do something wrong, baby?" he asked softly, voice rough but tender.
You shook your head, still catching your breath. Without another word, you turned slowly in his arms and pressed your front against the cool tile wall. You arched your back and pushed back against him, feeling his hard cock nestle hot and heavy between your cheeks.
Glancing over your shoulder, voice needy and breathless, you said, "I need you so bad, Mikey… Please fuck me like this. From behind."
You could feel his heart hammering wildly against your back. His wide eyes went even wider — like a deer caught in headlights — surprise and desire warring across his flushed face. Even now, with the water streaming down his body and his obvious need throbbing against you, he hesitated. Always the gentleman, always worried you might feel like you had to do something bolder just for him.
"W-what…?" he stammered, hands settling lightly on your hips as if afraid to grip too tight. "Baby, you don't have to… I mean, if you want me to see your face —"
"Please, baby," you whispered, pushing back against him again, slow and deliberate. "I want you like this. I want to feel you deep."
That finally seemed to sink in. Michael let out a shaky exhale, almost a whimper, his breath warm against your wet shoulder.
"Oh lord… You're gonna be the death of me, pretty lady."
His voice was thick with both awe and lingering shyness, but his hands tightened on your hips with newfound, if still slightly tentative, confidence. A soft giggle escaped you, melting quickly into a moan as the thick head of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes while his breathing grew heavier against your skin.
Then he finally pushed in — slow, steady, and so deep you moaned into the cool tile. He stilled once he was fully seated, chest pressed flush to your back, clearly fighting for control. The feeling of him buried so deep inside you, stretching and filling you completely, made your head spin.
His hips began to move in deep, rolling thrusts — intimate, controlled, each one pressing right where you needed him most. Every push pulled soft, needy sounds from your throat as the steamy air danced across your bodies and the running water murmured steadily in the background.
All the while, he trailed tender, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the curve of your neck — sweet and worshipful even as his thrusts grew deeper. Like he couldn't stop himself from loving you gently, even in the middle of this.
He angled his hips just right and stroked that sweet, devastating spot inside you again and again. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.
You were breathless. The words spilled out raw and needy. "Mikey… please," you moaned, pushing back to meet his deep thrusts. "Fill me up… I want you to come inside me."
Michael's rhythm faltered for a moment, a shaky groan leaving him as his lips pressed another lingering kiss to your wet shoulder. You felt his cheeks burn hot against your skin.
"Y-yeah?" he breathed, voice husky and a little shy even as his hips started moving faster, driving deeper with every stroke. The words tumbled out suddenly, unfiltered. "You want me to put a baby in you, angel? Right here?"
He panicked for half a second after saying it — but your frantic nod chased the worry away.
"Please… I want it. I want you to fill me up."
He cursed softly under his breath — a rare, rough sound that sent chills racing down your spine. You'd never heard anything like that from his mouth before. He buried his face in your neck, trailing more kisses there as his thrusts grew more desperate, deep and purposeful, like he was determined to give you exactly what you'd asked for.
His hands tightened on your waist, one sliding down over your stomach and up the front of your body before carefully, gently pressing against your throat — not squeezing, just holding you close and steady. The other wandered lower, finding your clit and rubbing fast but controlled circles against your sensitive nub.
"Then take it, sweetheart," he whispered hotly against your ear between kisses, trembling. "Take everything I give you…"
The bold words, the steady deep rhythm of him pumping inside you, his skilled fingers, and those sweet lingering kisses along your shoulder all combined to pull loud moans from your throat. You couldn't hold them back, and neither of you cared if the rest of the house could hear. Secretly, Michael seemed to like it — the way you fell apart so loudly for him, proof that only he could make you feel like this.
Pleasure crashed over you first, deep and shuddering. Your body tightened around him as you moaned his name, waves of it rolling through you. Michael followed right after with a broken, shy groan, pressing as deep as he could go while he spilled inside you, giving you everything you'd begged for. He held you close, trembling against your back, still pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as the water continued to rain down warmly over you both.
After a long, hazy moment, he eased out of you carefully and turned you in his arms, pulling you against his wet chest. His chin rested on top of your head while his big hands stroked slow, sweet circles down your back.
"You okay, angel face?" he asked gently, voice hoarse and full of tender concern.
"More than okay," you whispered, smiling against his skin.
He pulled you into a tighter hug, holding you like you were something precious, then kissed you softly. One hand came up to stroke your cheek in gentle circles. His eyes met yours, warm and full of quiet wonder.
"I love you so much, my sweet girl."
You grinned up at him. "I love you, pretty boy."
You both laughed softly, the sound echoing lightly in the steamy shower. The mood shifted back to something sweet and playful as you continued washing each other — rubbing shampoo into his curls, him carefully running soapy hands over your sun-kissed skin, gently rinsing away the last traces of the beach day.
Before long, you couldn't resist. "I don't think you're gonna be hearing any more teasing or flirting from them for a long time now."
Michael let out an embarrassed laugh, cheeks burning hot again as understanding dawned. "Oh god…"
You just smiled back at him with a big grin, feeling warm and content.
This really had been one of the best days in a long while.
❛ jealous!michael jackson 𝑥 female !reader ❜
....✉︎ established relationship. you piss michael off by purposely making him jealous, talking to other men. you're just acting out because he wants to keep you as his little secret. you're genuinely over it. later in the car, he reminds you who you belong to.
(era doesn't matter but i did imagine this with annoyed! michael from the we are the world recording)
....✎ warnings/tags: jealousy. he fingers you in the limousine. hiding the relationship. use of 'mama' as term of endearment. btw michael curses in this one (his internal thoughts at least), that's how annoyed he is.
what’s funny is that you can see him pouting from across the room. you don’t have to look at him directly to know, he’s just so painfully obvious with his face.
what’s even funnier is that the pout eventually turned into eye rolls, before escalating into deadpan stares. bill had to hand him his sunglasses he left in the car. at least that way, the whole function wouldn’t have to see him staring daggers at every man that’s trying to own the privilege of a conversation with you.
you weren’t doing it on purpose at first. it just naturally happened, men would approach a pretty girl like you to get an ounce, a sliver of your attention even. in your little black dress and louboutins, you looked classy, beautiful, and delicious.
it was an important evening after all, a night the record label hosted for the shareholders and other potential investors. it’s the mixer where these grubby men can get their hands on speaking to any artist.
as a PR associate for the record label, you’re used to the one making those introductions. what you didn’t expect was for these people to want to talk to you. you’ve probably spoken to half the men in that room, being whisked away from one conversation to the next.
meanwhile, you haven’t uttered a single word to michael since you both arrived in separate cars. separate cars that he asked for, in his attempt to keep your relationship a secret.
so you find his misery hilarious.
him, not so much.
throughout the evening, he battled coming up to you. as men swarmed over you, he knew it couldn’t be helped. you were gorgeous after all. but did you really have to laugh at their jokes? did you really have to accept a drink from them? and most importantly did you really have to ignore him all night? not one glance in his direction, really?
he saw you take another man’s hand as he led you to look at an art piece on display. probably talking your ear off, shit he could care less about at the moment. the man had his hand on your back, but was slowly sliding down to your waist.
that’s it. he’s had enough.
he storms out of the conversation he was pretending to have, leaving a group of people dumbfounded as he made his way across the room. with the sunglasses on, he had an unreadable expression. he can hear someone whisper “did I say somethin’ wrong?” as he walked away.
he plants himself firmly next to you, shoulder brushing against yours. you can practically feel the steam coming off his ears.
“ah mr.jackson. nice of you to join us. i was just telling y/n here about this piece i just bought fr-”
“let’s go home. now.” he turns to you, removing his aviators so you can see his eyes. he was using a voice he only used with you in private. if other people around heard him, they wouldn’t assume it was from michael. their soft spoken, gentle-mannered michael jackson, usually so polite and respectful.
it raises a few eyebrows from the men you were standing with. “apologies, will you excuse me?” you smile at the businessmen you already forgot the names of.
michael takes your hand and leads the both of you out of the venue and into to driveway where his limousine waits.
and even in his annoyance, he’s a perfect gentleman. stopping bill from opening the car door so that he can do it just for you. “get in” he deadpans.
“i brought a car remember, i can drive myself home” you dangle your keys in the air before he plucks them off your fingers. “please…just get in the car” he pleads at this point, other hand still holding the car door open.
you have no choice but to follow. he doesn’t even slam the door once you’re safely inside.
the car ride home is silent, save for Michael’s incessent finger tapping on the left console where his hand rests. he’s antsy to speak; but he doesn’t know where to begin.
“something wrong, applehead?” you ask, feigning innocence. and as you bat your eyelashes at him, your own lips come to a smirk. at this very moment, he realizes you did it on purpose.
you pissed him off because it was fun for you. you pissed him off to prove a point.
he scoffs at the realization, lips breaking into a thin smile. oh you’re such a brat.
“I get what ya trying to do you know” he starts.
“and what was it I was trying to do?” your arms are crossed.
“my girl was trying to make me jealous. talking up those other men, taunting me, because you know i can’t…” his voice softens and he reaches out to unfold your arms.
“but am I your girl, michael? last I checked, you don’t even want to be seen with me in public”
okay, he totally gets it now. you’re pissed at him because he asked to come separately, which is silly considering you live together. he initially had his reasons, but they all seem so stupid now.
“baby you know it isn’t like that” voice low, he pushes your hair behind your neck. giving him room to plant a little kiss near your collarbone.
you don’t need much convincing either, practically letting him litter kisses all over you. “did I mention how gorgeous you look tonight?” he comes closer as he whispers “my girl, my girl, my girl..I was practically drooling in there begging for your attention”
his hand rubs at your knee, slowly making its way up your thigh, taunting you “but all you wanted to do was talk to those men. do you enjoy making me jealous?” he asks into your ear.
“well, did it work?” you taunt back. palm resting against his chest, feigning a stop in his ministrations.
“you definitely have my full attention now, baby” he smiles before he kisses you. he takes your wrist and removes your hand from his chest, guiding you to grasp his hair instead.
you’re extremely relaxed on the seat, practically laying down as michael hovers over you. his kisses are deeper and you pull him in closer to get more of him.
with the privacy of your limousine, the two of you can do anything. a privilege you both abused more often than either of you would admit.
he hikes your dress up so that it pools by your hips. slowly, he reaches your g-string and rubs his fingers against your clothed clit. this elicits a groan from you, aching to be touched fully.
he gives you what you want as he hooks your panties to the side, his hand now fully working your pleasure. his thumb pads your clit in slow, agonizing circles. he watched as your face falls apart for him.
“tell me who’s making you feel good”
all he can hear is the soft, breathy pants that came out of your own mouth, practically begging for more friction. he inserts two fingers inch by inch, as he slowly curls upwards. “what was that? I can’t hear you baby, hmm?”
you can hear yourself squelching as his fingers settle on a steady pace. it's embarrassing, really how wet you are. he on the other hand, pays no mind, amused at how easily turned on you are.
"you" barely above a whisper.
“louder.” he demands, unrelenting at his pace. he presses hard against your clit, feeling your walls tighten.
“you mike. only you make me feel good.” panting. your senses are overwhelmed, thoughts so clouded that the only thing you can chant at this point is “mike, please”
you repeat it like a mantra, feeling his lips kiss the side of your jaw as he whispers for you to let go.
pleasure washes all over you as you grip his hair tighter, head thrown back as you plead for something you're not sure of. he kisses you back to reality, pausing in between to watch your face – making sure you're okay. "you good, mama?"
you nod, he helps pull your dress down as the car comes to a halt. you're both finally home, and as usual, the fans and paparazzi are waiting by the gate hoping for a glimpse of their superstar. this means michael will have to get down from the car first, while you aimlessly circle around with the driver for another block or two – before ultimately returning to use the back entrance to your own home.
“in all seriousness I hate that we have to keep us a secret” you pout.
"yeah safe to say, lesson learned" he kisses your pout away and makes you wear his shades. "let’s change that starting today." he has a shit-eating grin as he opens the car door.
"michael, are you crazy?" you whisper shout as he steps out. but all he does is giggle as he extends his hand out to you, coaxing you to come out of the limo.
you take his offered hand, and step out with a smile on your face. he takes his sweet time walking you inside, hand on your waist, and a peace sign to the paparazzi.
he doesn't care anymore that the media is within eyesight, taking photos of a disheveled michael escorting his "mystery girl" out of the limo, noting that she's sporting his signature sunglasses.
૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ............✎ masterlist
author's note: i finished this so fast, literally within an hour of seeing the request
thank you @purpleteaandclearskies for the request! hope you don't mind, had to change some details but the general storyline is there haha
defending michael on internet isn’t enough, i need a gun.
fuck netflix and fuck all of you guys who are abandoning mike after this nasty documentary.
netflix isn’t innocent! after the biopic was released, everyone now wants to have a piece of michael to profit, he’s INNOCENT, everyone already knows and coming back and talking about these accusations years later and making a documentary about it is ridiculous, disrespectful and disgusting! worse, releasing this doc in JUNE.
Michael didn't deserve and doesn't deserve to go through this, let him rest in peace, he's already suffered a lot here on earth. May God bless him and may the world be a better place.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you have broken up so many times that nobody reacts anymore. every single breakup starts with one of you saying it's over forever and ends with the two of you somehow sitting next to each other at your baby's soccer game three weeks later.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty loves acting like he doesn't care until another man starts spending time with you. suddenly he's calling more, texting more, volunteering for every pickup and drop-off, and finding reasons to be at your house almost every day.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty got your name tattooed on his chest three months after your "final" breakup. he claimed it was because you're the mother of his child, but nobody believed him. not even you.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always says he's only coming over to pick up the baby. somehow that ten-minute pickup turns into him sitting at your kitchen table for two hours eating your food and arguing with you about something completely ridiculous.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty swears he's over you, yet he still knows your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite takeout place, and which blanket you always steal when you're tired.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still calls you “ma” even years after the breakup, but not in a co-parenting way. in a you way. it’s become such a habit that he doesn’t even notice anymore. “move over, ma,” when he squeezes onto the couch next to you. “you hungry, ma?” when he’s bringing food over. “c’mere, ma,” when he’s trying to show you something on his phone. it drives your new boyfriend insane because jermajesty says it so naturally, like it’s always belonged to him. the worst part is that whenever somebody points it out, jermajesty just shrugs and says, “what? i’ve been calling her that for years,” before continuing the conversation like he didn’t just make things ten times more awkward
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates your new boyfriend immediately. he doesn't care whether the guy is nice, respectful, successful, or perfect. if another man is around you and his child, jermajesty already has a problem with him.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty suddenly becomes father of the year once he finds out that you’ve moved on. he's showing up early, offering extra help, buying things for the baby without being asked, and finding any excuse possible to stay involved in your daily life.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty gets irrationally jealous whenever your baby starts getting attached to another man. the second he hears your child call somebody else funny, cool, or their favorite, he's planning the most expensive and over-the-top father-child day imaginable.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty constantly says things like "i'm only here for my kid" while sitting on your couch for the third hour in a row watching movies with you and the baby like you're still a family.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts completely unbothered whenever people ask if the two of you are getting back together. the second somebody asks if you're dating someone new, though, he's suddenly paying very close attention to the conversation.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty keeps every picture you've ever sent him of your child. every single one. blurry pictures, random selfies, pictures of finger paintings, pictures of naps. he has folders full of them and refuses to delete any.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always pretends he forgot something at your house. his hoodie, his charger, his keys, his watch. sometimes you're pretty sure he leaves things behind on purpose just so he has an excuse to come back.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you can go from arguing about co-parenting to laughing at baby pictures in less than five minutes. one second you're threatening to block each other, the next you're both crying laughing over something your child did.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates when you ignore him, even though he's usually the one who started the argument. he'll spend hours acting annoyed and then get offended when you actually stop responding.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still has a family photo of the three of you as his lock screen. every time somebody notices, he changes the subject so fast it gives people whiplash.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always finds himself sitting next to you at family events. nobody knows how it happens. not even him. somehow every birthday party, holiday, school event, and cookout ends with the two of you side by side.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty absolutely hates when your child talks about wanting mommy and daddy to live together again. not because it bothers him, but because hearing it out loud feels way too close to what he secretly wants.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty knows exactly which buttons to push when he's annoyed, and unfortunately you know exactly how to get under his skin too. that's why your arguments are legendary.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts like your biggest headache and your biggest supporter at the exact same time. nobody understands how he can annoy you more than anyone else while also being the first person you call when something goes wrong.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty secretly keeps every family photo, every drawing, every handmade card, and every random keepsake your child gives him. if the picture includes you standing next to him, it's getting stored somewhere extra safe.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you are the definition of unfinished business. no matter how many breakups happen, no matter how many times you swear you're done, neither of you has ever really figured out how to let go.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you have broken up so many times that nobody reacts anymore. every single breakup starts with one of you saying it's over forever and ends with the two of you somehow sitting next to each other at your baby's soccer game three weeks later.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty loves acting like he doesn't care until another man starts spending time with you. suddenly he's calling more, texting more, volunteering for every pickup and drop-off, and finding reasons to be at your house almost every day.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty got your name tattooed on his chest three months after your "final" breakup. he claimed it was because you're the mother of his child, but nobody believed him. not even you.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always says he's only coming over to pick up the baby. somehow that ten-minute pickup turns into him sitting at your kitchen table for two hours eating your food and arguing with you about something completely ridiculous.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty swears he's over you, yet he still knows your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite takeout place, and which blanket you always steal when you're tired.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still calls you “ma” even years after the breakup, but not in a co-parenting way. in a you way. it’s become such a habit that he doesn’t even notice anymore. “move over, ma,” when he squeezes onto the couch next to you. “you hungry, ma?” when he’s bringing food over. “c’mere, ma,” when he’s trying to show you something on his phone. it drives your new boyfriend insane because jermajesty says it so naturally, like it’s always belonged to him. the worst part is that whenever somebody points it out, jermajesty just shrugs and says, “what? i’ve been calling her that for years,” before continuing the conversation like he didn’t just make things ten times more awkward
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates your new boyfriend immediately. he doesn't care whether the guy is nice, respectful, successful, or perfect. if another man is around you and his child, jermajesty already has a problem with him.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty suddenly becomes father of the year once he finds out that you’ve moved on. he's showing up early, offering extra help, buying things for the baby without being asked, and finding any excuse possible to stay involved in your daily life.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty gets irrationally jealous whenever your baby starts getting attached to another man. the second he hears your child call somebody else funny, cool, or their favorite, he's planning the most expensive and over-the-top father-child day imaginable.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty constantly says things like "i'm only here for my kid" while sitting on your couch for the third hour in a row watching movies with you and the baby like you're still a family.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts completely unbothered whenever people ask if the two of you are getting back together. the second somebody asks if you're dating someone new, though, he's suddenly paying very close attention to the conversation.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty keeps every picture you've ever sent him of your child. every single one. blurry pictures, random selfies, pictures of finger paintings, pictures of naps. he has folders full of them and refuses to delete any.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always pretends he forgot something at your house. his hoodie, his charger, his keys, his watch. sometimes you're pretty sure he leaves things behind on purpose just so he has an excuse to come back.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you can go from arguing about co-parenting to laughing at baby pictures in less than five minutes. one second you're threatening to block each other, the next you're both crying laughing over something your child did.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates when you ignore him, even though he's usually the one who started the argument. he'll spend hours acting annoyed and then get offended when you actually stop responding.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still has a family photo of the three of you as his lock screen. every time somebody notices, he changes the subject so fast it gives people whiplash.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always finds himself sitting next to you at family events. nobody knows how it happens. not even him. somehow every birthday party, holiday, school event, and cookout ends with the two of you side by side.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty absolutely hates when your child talks about wanting mommy and daddy to live together again. not because it bothers him, but because hearing it out loud feels way too close to what he secretly wants.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty knows exactly which buttons to push when he's annoyed, and unfortunately you know exactly how to get under his skin too. that's why your arguments are legendary.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts like your biggest headache and your biggest supporter at the exact same time. nobody understands how he can annoy you more than anyone else while also being the first person you call when something goes wrong.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty secretly keeps every family photo, every drawing, every handmade card, and every random keepsake your child gives him. if the picture includes you standing next to him, it's getting stored somewhere extra safe.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you are the definition of unfinished business. no matter how many breakups happen, no matter how many times you swear you're done, neither of you has ever really figured out how to let go.
titsay
theartofmadeline
yousharknotpass
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
kaledo-art
