✩ @humannatures: an 18+ MJ / rpf focused side blog. mostly blurbs. reqs / asks allowed! + my masterlist. amelia (amy): he/she, 19, nonbinary black autistic. fllw me on mjtwt, i beg.
todays bird
Sade Olutola
Acquired Stardust
cherry valley forever
wallacepolsom

Product Placement

titsay

izzy's playlists!
Three Goblin Art
Misplaced Lens Cap

#extradirty
Cosmic Funnies

Janaina Medeiros
No title available
Stranger Things
I'd rather be in outer space 🛸

⁂
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
One Nice Bug Per Day
Not today Justin
seen from Germany

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seen from Poland
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seen from Italy

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@humannatures
✩ @humannatures: an 18+ MJ / rpf focused side blog. mostly blurbs. reqs / asks allowed! + my masterlist. amelia (amy): he/she, 19, nonbinary black autistic. fllw me on mjtwt, i beg.
🐆💋 — ceo!jaafar, who bites his lip whenever he’s concentrating on filing bills, checking through different things. it’s so hot to you, you sometimes end up daydreaming about it during working. you’re not even sure if jaafar knows he does it, which is why you never point it out. you’re scared that if you do, he’ll stop doing it which will stop your fantasies; sort of.
sometimes, when you’re sitting on his lap, doing work that he assigned, jaafar will rest his chin on your shoulder, his hand resting on your stomach and his other one teasing your clit. he’ll bite his bottom lip, watching you squirm on his lap as moans leave your mouth. you try to jerk your hips up to make him shove his fingers in your hole but he stops, he’ll slap your thigh and tell you to stay focused. you whine and pout, but you listen no matter what. there’s a small mirror on his desk, and you sometimes stare at him through it, enjoying the way his face looks. you could ride his fingers and just stare at him, or stare at him without doing anything, and cum at that point. you love it whenever he bites his lip, and you hope he doesn’t stop either.
#neededthat
Michael Jackson, 1975
moodboard with writing / michael jackson x black fem rockstar!reader )
. . . born in gary, indiana. private school kid. left at 18 and never looked back. singer, lyricist, and guitarist for an increasingly popular rock band. self described as a "total angel, just without the halo and shit". known for her provocative statements and bluntness. ragebaiter. the face of black women in rock. black leather, silver buckles, and the clinging smell of smoke.
Q: "can you tell us who you make music for?"
A: "right, so... we make music for people who hate the world and also themselves."
. . . the world didn't even know rockstar!reader had once been connected to michael jackson. that is, until he slips it into an interview...
"you'd be surprised, the talent that comes out of gary," michael said, shifting in his seat before mentioning you. "she might not mention it a lot, but she's from gary, too."
the interviewer leaned in, curious. "really? did you two ever interact, growing up?"
"oh, not frequently. although, her and my brother, jackie, definitely did for a while..." chuckling, he adds, "i was a little jealous of that, back then. but she ended that and, afterwards, i didn't really see her anymore."
"and what do you think of her now, when you see her?"
a pause. then, playfully, michael replies, "i think, 'she better not steal my fans'!" he laughs, the melodic sound filling the room. "that's what i think."
Q: "what do you think of michael jackson's words, in that one interview?"
A: "i think if he keeps telling my business, i'll have to beat him. no, no, i'm joking, promise. uhh, he was telling the truth, so i don't really care."
Q: "what do you think of that comment, concerning fans?"
A: "shit, right! that was funny. yes, michael, i'm definitely going to convert all your fans into rock groupies. they're all mine, now, and i'm not giving them back. don't worry, they're in real good hands."
. . . from there a playful rivalry ensues. michael's eyes light up whenever rockstar!reader's brought up in his interviews. rockstar!reader definitely plays into the whole "converting michael's fans to rock" thing. it's a running gag they keep up with throughout years as they slowly become closer and closer...
author’s note ) errr i hope i captured the vibe, it's very playful, childish; just a little joke between superstars that blossoms into something more. i think it starts like, strangers/acquaintances with this joke between them and then friends and then they actually decide to meet up and interact and they become lovers... they aren't immediately in contact with each other, mostly watching interviews, listening to each other's songs, etc before ever rlly interacting face to face. king of pop x queen of rock... wait they're just poppy and barb from trolls world tour dhmu im done... anyways, i don't have any era in particular in mind, if anyone wants to pitch one i'd love to hear it... ciaoo!
glasses michael i wish we got to see more of u
manager! Michael with glasses like hello!!! Like imagine him gazing at you through his glasses, reading scripts or lyrics together, maybe him looking over your shoulder as you piece a song together and he’s so close AGHHANSJ
the most frustrating part is that michael doesn't even know how attractive he is with his glasses. much like how it took him two or three eras to realize he was sexy (sexy enough to get away with thrusting into the air and pressing his hips down onto the stage, at least), it takes him a while to grasp that you find him hot with glasses on. to him, sliding his glasses off and tentatively tucking the end of one arm between his lips is simply a childish thinking habit. to you? it's not just eye candy, it's eye cake, eye ice cream, eye "that expensive dessert off a fancy menu that you can't pronounce but absolutely adore". or maybe it's more similar to the main course, considering how much you also love what comes after: watching michael put his glasses back on. he's mastered the flick of the wrist, oftentimes using the quick motion to unfold his glasses' arms before he slides them back onto his face. then he'll look to you, curious as to why you're staring, completely unaware of how he'd basically given you a free show.
not to mention all the times he'd lean over your shoulder. a soft breath escapes his lips as he murmurs a small "let me look" while you work on a song's chords or lyrics. michael gives a quiet hum, pointing to a certain section and offering his advice, but all you can focus on is how his glasses slip down the ridge of his nose, settling down at the very end.
"you listening?" he asks, nudging you with his shoulder, "i don't talk just to hear myself speak, y'know."
you blink, dragging your gaze away from his glasses and nose upwards to his eyes, which are already focused on you. "sorry, sorry. say it one more time?"
he shakes his head, black hair shimmying as he does so (the combination of his glasses and his hair is almost too much. he wants to distract you, doesn't he?). "i was just saying that..."
worst of all is how he looks at you with his glasses on. how he peers at you overtop of his lenses when they slide down his nose. how he smiles with his eyes every so often from across the studio, a silent praise of a sound done properly or a lyric that's exceptionally impactful. "look at me" has become your least favorite phrase to hear from michael, only because looking directly at him makes everything so much worse.
"is it the color of my glasses?" he asks suddenly one day while lounging on your couch. another studio session ended, another night where he'd invited himself over to your place because his house is "too quiet" when the kids are with his ex-wife. that might've been the reason when he first came over, but these last few times? you're not so sure. "is it the shape? what don't you like about them?"
you tilt your head from where you sit on the other end. you and michael's feet meet in the middle even with both your legs curled, and every couple of minutes michael taps your foot with his. "what do you mean?"
"you know what i mean. you don't like looking at me when i have them on. but, you also stare when you think i'm not looking," he says, "i can get different glasses, if you hate these ones."
"i don't hate your glasses, michael," you chuckle a little, "it's the opposite. i find them... dashing, let's say."
"dashing?" he repeats. after a pause, he lets his foot bump against one of your own, "elaborate."
"dashing. handsome. attractive. some might even say sexy."
he turns to fully face you, a small smirk growing on his lips, "so you think they're sexy?"
you shrug, "some might say it."
he lets out a short, breathy laugh, tucking some of his hair behind his left ear. "right. so it's just dashing to you, my appearance with my glasses on. noted."
"exactly," you reply, feigning casualness. "i'm sure you have moments when you think i look dashing, too."
michael's response comes all too quickly. "oh, i do." he's being just as flippant as you are about it, pretending that all musical stars have this sort of conversation with their manager.
"elaborate?" you tilt your head towards him, and suddenly the casualness is much harder to fake. was it ever not serious, you and him along this couch?
"no further comments," he declares, flashing a cheeky grin.
...it's far more frustrating when he knows he's sexy than when he doesn't.
him with his glasses slipped down his nose + fidgeting with his wedding ring (which he has yet to take off, even while flirting with you...). i am sickkkk i love him. i also feel very strongly that it takes michael a minute to realize ppl find things abt him sexy... what's very obvious to us is like a revelation to him. i just know when you tell him he's like, "really, you find that sexy?". and then to tease he adds, "wow, your bar's low". smh my head i need him.
not to mention all the times he'd lean over your shoulder. a soft breath escapes his lips as he murmurs a small "let me look" while you work on a song's chords or lyrics. michael gives a quiet hum, pointing to a certain section and offering his advice, but all you can focus on is how his glasses slip down the ridge of his nose, settling down at the very end.
~
I actually cannot stop thinking about this!!!
Manager! Michael always manages to clear my skin 🙌🏼 thank you @humannatures also hbd!🎂
OMG THIS IS SO COOL AND CUTE!! ahhhh!!! i’m so glad you liked it but also like omg i inspired you enough for you to draw something!!??? i’m really really really happy and grateful this is so cool. you’re more than welcome and thank you so much :)!!!!
i’m so cheesed rn this means a lot to me ackk like woawwww
manager!michael when you go to an after party and purposely try to make him jealous??
"if you wanted my attention, you should've just talked to me." that's the first thing your manager says after the party, during the tense drive home. your outfit was an elegant, teasing little number, something you knew michael would enjoy, and yet, you'd avoided him the whole night. every dance you took was with another man, younger, a member of some boy group. you even made a point of staying sober, purposefully glancing across the room at michael as your head rested against your new friend's shoulder. now, both of you sit together on plush leather seats in the back of some fancy, black SUV. neither of you look at each other: you, out of immaturity, and him, out of frustration.
crossing your arms, you turn your head to look out of the tinted windows. everything passes by in a rapid blur that almost strains your eyes. still, it's easier than looking at michael right now. "i don't know what you're talking about."
"you don't even like that guy," he accuses. he turns to look at you, his lips pursing when he realizes you're not looking back. how mature. "you barely know him."
you scoff, feeling his eyes on you. "he's funny."
michael chuckles sarcastically, rolling his eyes, "oh, so that's it?"
"funny can get you far."
"maybe with others. not with you," he points out, carefully running his hand against his hair. "i know you. you did that on purpose. you wanted to make me jealous. it's childish."
immediately, your head jerks to face him. "me, childish?" your body follows suit, knees jostling against his as you turn towards him.
"yes, you, childish!" he repeats, "you don't just do that to a man, you can't just toy with me like that!"
"you're the one with a wedding ring still on," you snap, pointing an accusatory finger towards his chest. "i think that's childish—"
his eyes close in agitation as his voice lowers, "don't start—"
thump-thunk!
before the argument could worsen, one of the front wheels hits a small pothole in the road, causing the entire car to bounce. like toys in a box, you and michael are tossed around, unintentionally bumping and grazing each other for a few moments until the car rolls onto even pavement again. your cheek meets his shoulder, his left foot meeting your right; it's a mess of your body against his. when it's finally over, both of you glance at your laps, adjusting hair and clothing in order to try and regain some dignity. in the silence, the argument lingers, although it seems so silly now.
you fidget with a small part of your outfit for what feels like too long before you finally open your mouth to speak again. "i'm sorry," you mumble. after pausing, you add, "i like the ring, actually..."
"i'm sorry, too," he says quickly, pushing his glasses further up his nose. "i spoke from a place of anger... i'm sorry. i'll take the ring off, i promise."
"you can keep it, michael, really," you start, but he just shakes his head no.
down in his lap, he twists and turns the ring along his fourth finger. then he decides: "i want to take it off." he slides it up, easing it past his first knuckle, then off of his hand entirely. streetlights from outside the car just barely manage to shine against the ring as it sits in his palm. then he tucks it into his pocket. "i don't want you thinking there's a chance of me and her getting back together," he explains, "i'm really only focused on one woman right now. even when she drives me crazy, even when she makes me jealous to get my attention. especially when she wants my attention, honestly..."
"i was being bratty," you admit quietly, biting your lip. "really, i don't even know what i was thinking. i wasn't thinking, i was... i just wanted to make you look at me."
"all you have to do is talk to me next time," he murmurs, "just talk to me, okay?"
you nod. "okay."
all the tension slowly dissipates, leaving you and michael (and the driver up front, who is by no means a stranger to you and michael's unique dynamic) behind. his knee gently nudges yours, a silent bid for attention.
"hm?"
he smiles a little. "i just wanted to see your happy face again." for a brief second, he hesitates. then, michael reaches for your hand, his fingers finding shelter in the valleys between your own, squeezing lightly. wordlessly, he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a few kisses along your knuckles and afterwards letting your hand rest along his thigh. for the rest of the ride, your hand stays there and the ring stays in his pocket; for the rest of your lives, he'll stay yours and you'll stay his.
honestly... just wanted to write a little spat! NOT sorry. i like tension. i gave it a happy ending though ^_^ hope u enjoyed!!
HAPPI BIRTHDAYYYY 🩶🩶🩶🩶
thank u i licked my phone genuinely.. just for this i will be posting smth tonight. watch me. ugh, i love him so much... he is just too handsome!!! even his most androgynous looks are so attractive... :) thank you so much for this, i love him.
Happy Birthday I hope you enjoy your day !!
awww thank you HE'S SO FREAKING CUTE!!! he was so happy to be cute and full of whimsy. i especially love him at disney w his afro. he's so happy. ughh tysm.
Michael x princess
wld anyone gaf if i wrote catwoman!janet jackson x black fem batwoman reader...?
happy birthday new moot
thank you for this, i needed this <3
ur acc is goals btw IM AWKWARD IDK WHERE ELSE TO SAY THIS but ur acc is so aesthetic and ur writing is so good... i am glad we r moots!!! ur so cool!!!
okay, good morning everyone!! happy birthday to me!!! dangerous, off the wall, and mature era michael pics in my askbox NOW or im never writing for y'all again
thinking of . . .
michael jackson x björk!reader
HE’S VENUS AS A BOY
nsfw / fem afab reader ) it’s quiet. the room’s ceiling fan hums softly above you both as the two of you kiss, but it’s a lazy and slow hum, the kind that fades into the background with ease. it’s not a rare occurrence, a make out session after a performance. michael once told you that after a show the only air he could stand to breathe was hidden between your lips; cheekily, he added later, “a man can’t help needing to breathe”. you’ve since become accustomed to the routine of it all: he’d come home, take five minutes to settle, kiss you until you were soaked, and then you’d both pull away, too shy to take that last step just yet. michael has his insecurities, and you’ve got yours. sex wasn’t a “never ever”, just a strong “not now”.
tonight’s different, though.
you’ve been kissing for longer than usual, and michael’s hands have been roaming while he lays beneath you, his head resting against some pillows. his fingers feel you, really exploring despite the fact that you’re still clothed. they press firmly against the skin of your hips and waist, then glide around to grip your butt. any plush he finds, he digs into, letting his fingers squish, squeeze, and play with your body. his eyes are closed and his lips are reverent against yours, but his hands give away a growing sense of neediness. finally, he pulls back, caressing along the curve of your ass with both hands. when you look down at him, he’s making eye contact with your rear. you watch as he swallows thickly.
“take this off,” he orders, his voice all breathy. “please?” he pinches at whatever bottoms you have on, biting his lip.
there’s a second where you hesitate, the air in the room growing heated and hazy despite the ceiling fan still spinning up above. then you strip, slowly sliding your legs out of your clothing, leaving on your top, your bra, and pair of linen underwear.
“that’s good,” michael says, “c’mere.” he’s already pulling you closer before you can move, urging you to straddle him. the only thing he takes off is his jacket, setting it aside before adjusting his belt. “closer,” he murmurs, pulling you in further until you’re slotted right against his belt, your knees sunk into the bed on either side. “that’s it.”
he can sense your confusion before you even fix your face to express it. slowly, he lets go of your waist in favor of holding your hands. he brings them to his lips, kissing gently. “i was thinking… maybe you know, we could do a little more tonight. the belt’s got ridges, and i hear that’s helpful for… womanly pleasure.” the words come out soft, a little awkward; his face is flushed, but he’s smiling, too. “we don’t have to undress. we can just kind of… you know?”
“like this?” your hips roll slowly, and you can feel the smooth, cool hardness of the belt brushing against you through thin cloth. the feeling sends a tingle through your body. definitely, definitely like that.
“yeah, if that’s what feels good,” he nods, squeezing your hands.
you move again, rocking back and forth instead of around. it feels even better, enough for your eyes to close momentarily. touching yourself is one thing, but having michael (his belt, rather) touch you is entirely different. it’s probably entirely mental, but your toes are already curling on either side of his legs. “do you feel it when i move?” you ask.
“yeah,” he rasps out, head tilting to the side and sucking in a deep breath. “i feel it.” the belt shifts against him and his pants every time you grind and hump against it. when he closes his eyes, he just imagines that it’s you, you rolling your hips against him and dragging yourself along his length. “keep going?”
you nod on top of him, “yes, yes…” intuitively, the two of you position your hips together, slotting against each other and taking turns grunting and moaning. it’s all very soft and hesitant, both of you too scared to fully commit but too horny to pull away. it isn’t long at all until you’re both close, having already been needy and sensitive from making out, anyways. for michael, coming means shaking and rolling his head around while whining, overcome by the feelings of pleasure. for you, it means squeezing your legs around him and whimpering while tears spring up in the corners of your eyes.
it’s wordless, but not quiet. quite the opposite, in fact. michael’s louder than you are, groaning and jerking his hips as he rides out his orgasm. small, pitiful tears roll down your cheeks as you finish out your own, and as you reach up to wipe them with the back of your hand, all you can focus on is trying to breathe. both of you are completely and utterly spent, panting as though you’d just finished fighting rather than… whatever that was.
his belt glistens ever so slightly by the time you pull yourself off of it, wettened by whatever managed to leak through your panties. speaking of, your underwear carry a damp patch right by your entrance, completely ruined until you decide to do laundry. you’re both covered in sweat, and michael’s got this dazed (but pleased) look in his eye that you can’t help but find cute. things are quiet as the two of you gather yourselves, the hum of the ceiling fan suddenly coming to the foreground. it’s all you can focus on, the only thing about this situation that doesn’t feel awkward. neither of you had planned for the after part.
“i wouldn’t mind doing that again sometime,” michael finally admits breathily, flashing a sheepish smile up at you. his curls stick to his forehead and neck, plastered against his skin.
you mirror his smile, cheeks burning with all the leftover heat that still remained in your body. “me neither. it was…”
“nice?” he offers.
“definitely,” you murmur, crawling to lay beside him instead of hovering over him on your knees. “it was nice.”
as michael wraps his arms around your waist, letting your bodies settle side by side, you let out a soft yawn. looks like you’ve found something new to add to his post-show routine.
author’s note ) lowkey failgirl x failboy dynamic… i like it though. that awkward moment when ur both submissives LMAOO. i like dom michael, i like dom reader… but secretly i quite like sub michael and sub reader who both get rlly flustered but are also super freaky. aftercare consists of avoiding eye contact and falling asleep until they both gain some confidence. then they’re like the quiet freaky couple. interviewer goes “do you have intimate relations?” and michael playfully goes “yes” and reader nods and adds “often.” and they just refuse to elaborate on that.
mmmm i loved thiisssuhh
lowk imagining this belt 🤭😋
i didn’t have any one belt in mind when writing this but i think this belt + pants combo wld feel pretty good… michael get ready for me
nsfw / fem afab reader, cws for voyeuristic themes & dubcon(?) ) thinking about your good friend janet jackson who, upon realizing that you don’t have any plans for the summer, invites you to come with her to a resort. “it’ll be a cute little girls’ trip. c’mon,” she coaxed you over the phone. just by hearing her tone, you could tell she was smiling on the other end. “it’ll be fun, i promise.”
thinking about how janet would insist on you two sharing a room because it’s cheaper. thinking about how she feigns surprise when there’s only one bed, shrugging shortly afterwards and murmuring about clearing it up right away. for some reason, the bed situation never gets fixed; you end up sleeping with janet for the entirety of your stay.
thinking about how she’d encourage you to do all sorts of tacky resort activities with her. “let’s go see their show!” she’ll suggest, pointing to a nearby poster, “ooh, and we can go for drinks after. they have this fruity drink in this big glass, i’m just dying to try it. you’ll try it with me, right?” of course, janet bats her lashes and purses her lip into a subtle pout whenever you seem hesitant. you humor her more often than you don’t.
thinking about how she’d take pictures with you everywhere. she carries her mini-camera like it’s her ID. “smile!” she beams as she takes yet another photo. “this one looks hot,” she remarks, “the sun looks so good on us, see?” oh, just know there’s a photo album at home dedicated to you and her. “best friends forever” is in there somewhere, surrounded by a bunch of hearts.
thinking about her covering you with a towel whenever she notices guys leering at you. she’ll wrap it around your shoulders or waist before you can even process the fact that men are taking you in. “men can be such dogs,” janet complains under her breath, rolling her eyes, “ignore them.”
but most of all, i’m thinking about that one day towards the end of the trip where janet rents out a small, nearby beach because she “doesn’t want to deal with people”. she hums softly as she slathers sunscreen on herself. then, she watches as you do the same. naturally, you both get each other’s backs. then comes the fun. or, at least, janet thought the fun would follow.
“what do you mean you’re not gonna swim?” she asks indignantly, her hands on her hips, “i rented out this whole beach!”
“i want to tan, janet,” you reply, laying down along a beach chair. you reach into your bag and pull out a book, “it never hurts to even out your skin tone.”
“i don’t care about that,” she snaps, letting her more childish side show. it’s moments like these where it’s clear that she’s the youngest of the jacksons. “the beach is for playing in the water more than tanning. i wanted to have fun with you, this is our one girls’ trip before things get busy again.”
you open your book. “we can still have fun on the sand.”
saying that was a huge mistake. you can tell from the moment she gets quiet. after a few seconds, you glance up over the book’s pages, only to notice that janet’s in the middle of crawling onto you. when you sit up, she gently pushes you back down, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“what are you doing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“having fun,” she replies. she lets one foot rest on either side of you as she settles on top. it would be a full squat if she hovered; instead, she lets her pelvis rest on top of yours, the triangle bottoms of your bikinis meeting. “you don’t mind, right? i mean, if we can share a bed, certainly we can share this…” she slides herself forward, letting her body drag against yours, “a different kind of fun, but still… fun.”
you blink once or twice, setting your book down as she starts to roll her hips. it sparks an unexpected heat in you, one strong enough for you to pause and let out a quiet exhale. “yeah? the kind of fun friends have all the time, right?” you manage to spit out sarcastically, shifting to give her more access to you.
“exactly,” she coos, “relax. you’ll still get your tan.” reaching down, janet walks her fingers up to your bikini top, holding onto it like a reign as she rides against you. “i always thought you were just so pretty,” she muses, “i’m glad we’re such close friends.”
“is that right?” your eyes go half-lidded, your mouth running dry. through your bikini bottom you can feel everything. you swear you feel the outline of her pussy lips as she ruts against you. slowly, you bring your hands to her hips, holding onto her. “i think you’re pretty, too, janet.” pretty and talented— now you know where she gets the motivation to sing those “baby making” songs.
“you’re gonna make me blush,” she breathes out, chuckling a little. after a while, she speeds up, playfully asking, “feels good, doesn’t it?” there’s little shame in how she presses herself against you. why would there be? it’s not like anyone will see, thanks to her renting the beach out. when you don’t reply, she tilts her head to the left, bringing her hips back to fully thrust against your now sensitive pussy. “you know, it’s rude not to respond,” she murmurs, “very rude.”
“janet,” you whine, only to gasp when you feel her pelvis slam against yours. your body rocks, moving back and then forth from the impact. “fuck! it feels good, it feels good.”
she watches your face, soaking in how you’ve started to sweat, how your eyes are all hazy, and how you keep biting your lip. “then come,” she demands. her hand lets go of your bikini top, sliding to press against your lower stomach. suddenly, janet takes it seriously, staring down at you as she purposefully grinds her clit against yours at that perfect angle. the bikini bottoms on you both do nothing to shield you from the sensation of her body against yours, that friction quickly adding fuel to the fire flowing through your body. a grunt leaves her lips before she goes on, “come, come for me, come right now.”
whimpering, your hips start to buck, desperate for friction. “i’m going to— ah, ahh—” your legs tremble as your orgasm rushes through you, the force of it causing you to moan out janet’s name. your eyes screw themselves shut, forcing you to miss janet’s orgasm (an orgasm that’s just as intense as your own, though she smiles through it, thoroughly pleased). even after the first burst, your pussy pulses, causing more cum to leak out of you and pool into your g-string. spent, you crumple beneath her, panting hard like a dog out in the sun.
“atta girl,” she purrs as you both come down from the high, laying down on top of you as if she belonged there. maybe she does, now. her head rests along your breasts, her hands idly roaming your body. “this was better than swimming anyways,” she decides under her breath, “much better.”
author’s note ) that moment when ur best friend crawls on top of you and lwk starts humping but ur lwk down so u just dryhump on the beach w bikinis on or whatever. we all have that one girl bsf we’d scissor ok? anyways, happy pride… janet has always given me such brat vibes, regardless of top/bottom, i hope i captured that well here. she radiates such strong bsf to lovers vibes it’s insane… lover her sm…
The way this made me dive into more janet fics...
GOOD! janet jackson supremacy starts NOW
nsfw / fem afab reader, cws for voyeuristic themes & dubcon(?) ) thinking about your good friend janet jackson who, upon realizing that you don’t have any plans for the summer, invites you to come with her to a resort. “it’ll be a cute little girls’ trip. c’mon,” she coaxed you over the phone. just by hearing her tone, you could tell she was smiling on the other end. “it’ll be fun, i promise.”
thinking about how janet would insist on you two sharing a room because it’s cheaper. thinking about how she feigns surprise when there’s only one bed, shrugging shortly afterwards and murmuring about clearing it up right away. for some reason, the bed situation never gets fixed; you end up sleeping with janet for the entirety of your stay.
thinking about how she’d encourage you to do all sorts of tacky resort activities with her. “let’s go see their show!” she’ll suggest, pointing to a nearby poster, “ooh, and we can go for drinks after. they have this fruity drink in this big glass, i’m just dying to try it. you’ll try it with me, right?” of course, janet bats her lashes and purses her lip into a subtle pout whenever you seem hesitant. you humor her more often than you don’t.
thinking about how she’d take pictures with you everywhere. she carries her mini-camera like it’s her ID. “smile!” she beams as she takes yet another photo. “this one looks hot,” she remarks, “the sun looks so good on us, see?” oh, just know there’s a photo album at home dedicated to you and her. “best friends forever” is in there somewhere, surrounded by a bunch of hearts.
thinking about her covering you with a towel whenever she notices guys leering at you. she’ll wrap it around your shoulders or waist before you can even process the fact that men are taking you in. “men can be such dogs,” janet complains under her breath, rolling her eyes, “ignore them.”
but most of all, i’m thinking about that one day towards the end of the trip where janet rents out a small, nearby beach because she “doesn’t want to deal with people”. she hums softly as she slathers sunscreen on herself. then, she watches as you do the same. naturally, you both get each other’s backs. then comes the fun. or, at least, janet thought the fun would follow.
“what do you mean you’re not gonna swim?” she asks indignantly, her hands on her hips, “i rented out this whole beach!”
“i want to tan, janet,” you reply, laying down along a beach chair. you reach into your bag and pull out a book, “it never hurts to even out your skin tone.”
“i don’t care about that,” she snaps, letting her more childish side show. it’s moments like these where it’s clear that she’s the youngest of the jacksons. “the beach is for playing in the water more than tanning. i wanted to have fun with you, this is our one girls’ trip before things get busy again.”
you open your book. “we can still have fun on the sand.”
saying that was a huge mistake. you can tell from the moment she gets quiet. after a few seconds, you glance up over the book’s pages, only to notice that janet’s in the middle of crawling onto you. when you sit up, she gently pushes you back down, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“what are you doing?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.
“having fun,” she replies. she lets one foot rest on either side of you as she settles on top. it would be a full squat if she hovered; instead, she lets her pelvis rest on top of yours, the triangle bottoms of your bikinis meeting. “you don’t mind, right? i mean, if we can share a bed, certainly we can share this…” she slides herself forward, letting her body drag against yours, “a different kind of fun, but still… fun.”
you blink once or twice, setting your book down as she starts to roll her hips. it sparks an unexpected heat in you, one strong enough for you to pause and let out a quiet exhale. “yeah? the kind of fun friends have all the time, right?” you manage to spit out sarcastically, shifting to give her more access to you.
“exactly,” she coos, “relax. you’ll still get your tan.” reaching down, janet walks her fingers up to your bikini top, holding onto it like a reign as she rides against you. “i always thought you were just so pretty,” she muses, “i’m glad we’re such close friends.”
“is that right?” your eyes go half-lidded, your mouth running dry. through your bikini bottom you can feel everything. you swear you feel the outline of her pussy lips as she ruts against you. slowly, you bring your hands to her hips, holding onto her. “i think you’re pretty, too, janet.” pretty and talented— now you know where she gets the motivation to sing those “baby making” songs.
“you’re gonna make me blush,” she breathes out, chuckling a little. after a while, she speeds up, playfully asking, “feels good, doesn’t it?” there’s little shame in how she presses herself against you. why would there be? it’s not like anyone will see, thanks to her renting the beach out. when you don’t reply, she tilts her head to the left, bringing her hips back to fully thrust against your now sensitive pussy. “you know, it’s rude not to respond,” she murmurs, “very rude.”
“janet,” you whine, only to gasp when you feel her pelvis slam against yours. your body rocks, moving back and then forth from the impact. “fuck! it feels good, it feels good.”
she watches your face, soaking in how you’ve started to sweat, how your eyes are all hazy, and how you keep biting your lip. “then come,” she demands. her hand lets go of your bikini top, sliding to press against your lower stomach. suddenly, janet takes it seriously, staring down at you as she purposefully grinds her clit against yours at that perfect angle. the bikini bottoms on you both do nothing to shield you from the sensation of her body against yours, that friction quickly adding fuel to the fire flowing through your body. a grunt leaves her lips before she goes on, “come, come for me, come right now.”
whimpering, your hips start to buck, desperate for friction. “i’m going to— ah, ahh—” your legs tremble as your orgasm rushes through you, the force of it causing you to moan out janet’s name. your eyes screw themselves shut, forcing you to miss janet’s orgasm (an orgasm that’s just as intense as your own, though she smiles through it, thoroughly pleased). even after the first burst, your pussy pulses, causing more cum to leak out of you and pool into your g-string. spent, you crumple beneath her, panting hard like a dog out in the sun.
“atta girl,” she purrs as you both come down from the high, laying down on top of you as if she belonged there. maybe she does, now. her head rests along your breasts, her hands idly roaming your body. “this was better than swimming anyways,” she decides under her breath, “much better.”
author’s note ) that moment when ur best friend crawls on top of you and lwk starts humping but ur lwk down so u just dryhump on the beach w bikinis on or whatever. we all have that one girl bsf we’d scissor ok? anyways, happy pride… janet has always given me such brat vibes, regardless of top/bottom, i hope i captured that well here. she radiates such strong bsf to lovers vibes it’s insane… lover her sm…