[kiyabtw]

𝓢he a fashion killa’ N ima jiggy nigga 🫦

⤷ JA’KIYA . NINETEEN . BLACK . AVID READER . EDITOR . LOVES COOKIES & CREAM . ROOT BEER GIRLIE . PHAT BEAUTY QUEEN . TONY STARK LOVEBOT . UMBRELLA ACADEMY LOSER . MICHAELS PYT . GOLD JEWELRY CONNOISSEUR.MUSIC LUVER . JUICY COUTURE CUNT . VANILLA SCENTED BADDIE .

kiyabtw ™ 2026

[andromeda-graphics]

➳❥ 𝗕𝗢𝗪𝗦, 𝗗𝗢𝗧𝗦, & 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦: 𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗔𝗪𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗖𝗛𝗔 (𝗜𝗜.)

Here's the second part of the set. first part is linked here

─ ⋆˙⟡ 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 + 𝗕𝗢𝗪

─ ⋆˙⟡ 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 + 𝗕𝗢𝗪

─ ⋆˙⟡ 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗗 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗥 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 + 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥

─ ⋆˙⟡ 𝗚𝗥𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘 + 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥

˗ˏˋ ✷ buy me a coffee!! ✷ ˊˎ˗

[robinavitchslut]

.✦ ݁˖ 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 .✦ ݁˖

some random gradients i made, credit not necessary but appreciated, i'd love to see how you use them <333 more below the cut, the post got too long!!

𑣲⋆ blue and orange

𑣲⋆ cotton candy

𑣲⋆ pink and blue

𑣲⋆ pink and green

𑣲⋆ pink and orange

𑣲⋆ pink and purple

𑣲⋆ pink and yellow

𑣲⋆ purple and yellow

𑣲⋆ pink and white

𑣲⋆ purple and blue

𑣲⋆ purple and green

𑣲⋆ pastel rainbow

[starrliqhtt]

── ✶ simple animated dividers

blueberry

coastal

cotton candy

strawberry matcha

strawberries and cream

plums and cream

like/reblog if you use. credit is appreciated, but not needed

[dividers-are-us]

Could I ask for scene/scenemo/emo dividers? Ones that don't cause eyestrain, I've seen most ppl who make scene inspired stuff abuse neon and glitter and I'm looking for some that are more user friendly

Hopefully this is what you were picturing, I struggled a little bit with this one, so let me now if you had something else in mind!

Masterlist 𐴱 Main Blog 𐴱 Moodboard blog | Ko-fi🔗 | Request Info

Feel free to use, just please tag for credit <3

[bakersatoll]

　　100 follower special!

　　　　　Y'KNOW I'VE GOT AN OPINION

Summary⸝⸝　After Michael stirs discourse over where he's been for the past year, you're focused on his new look for the World Music Awards.

　　　　　wc: 2.5k　y/n replaced with: (🎤︎︎)

Contains... wendy willaims!reader, talk show!reader, messy!reader, early 2000s michael (2002), messing with timelines (so events line up), reader is in her 40's, Michael is a shameless flirt, sexual themes (MDNI)

The sound of muffled chatter from the studio audience sits just behind these glowing doors. Tonight is a night your fans will never forget.

On cue, the announcer calls your entrance, "Now, heeeerrresss (🎤︎︎)!” You push open the illuminating doors to rhythmic “whoop whoop’s” from the crowd. Making sure to hit a few playful poses for the array of cameras orbiting the set.

The set, a place that felt like a second home with rows of chairs filled with adoring fans facing the stage, had your name highlighted on screens hooked to the wall. The iconic curved couch sat in the middle of the stage with a steaming cup of tea waiting on the marble table in front of it.

Flicking your hair to the side, you make your way to the couch. “Thanks for tuning in today. How you doin’?” You flick your wrists, and the crowd mirrors the action with excitement while you take a dainty seat on the far side. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m not in my usual chair today, and y’know what that means…” Claps fill the room. "We've got a guest!”

“Who?” Comes from the back row, warning with a few low chuckles. "Ah-ah, it's a surprise... First, let's talk Michael Jackson.”

The room rises with interest, forgetting the mention of a guest appearance as you go on. “There's been a lot of news n’ speculation going around about where he’s been since the release of his album, Invincible, a year ago. Rumour is Michael Jackson is back in the studio already…” Speculative "ooo"s flow through the room as you flash a smile. 

“Personally, and this is my opinion, I couldn't care less where he's been, and I don't think he's in any studio.” You chortle at your own words, "Sure, he might be writing a lil thing or two, but if he is, we surely won't know; the man is practically half hobbit, and now that he has little Prince and Paris..." you interrupt yourself, "How old are they now?” 

Ryan, dubbed “the shady cameraman," answers from behind his viewfinder, "Four and five… I believe. He just had another in February, Bigi.”

Your eyes widen, turning so the camera could see your look of shock. “Well then…” You click your tongue. "Don't act surprised when the retirement announcement comes.” 

Your voice fights for coverage over the uproar. “But, but—Look…I,” the room calms, “...I just don’t think Michael is putting in the same hours he was in the 80’s. He’s what? Forty-four now? And has two toddlers and a newborn, he shouldn’t be breathing near a studio.” 

Letting your words settle, you reach for your waiting tea. Steam no longer wafting from the cup's rim, you raise the mug to your lips and savour the warm, syrupy taste.

By the time you lower the mug to the table, the room has settled aside from the rustle of clothing and cameras whirring.

“Michael disagrees. Yesterday we reminisced on the good old days of the 90s as Michael left his zoo—I mean—Neverland—" Your voice stumbles over giggles, “and made an appearance at the World Music Awards. What an appearance it was…” 

You shift in your seat; to the audience, you are stirring drama. To you, crossing your legs was mandatory to nullify the distracting warmth growing between them. 

Luckily, the audience's excitement is infectious, and you don’t bother waiting for the hoots to die down before blurting, “Michael seemed to be reminiscing too, digging back in his closet for an 80s-themed afterparty.”

Your cheeks burned from smiling, a miserable attempt to hide your laughter to get the whole story out. “Now, I'm not a fan of the whole upstairs situation here, but let's appreciate the lucky women in this photo for a second.” Applause fills the room as a photo with Michael holding two Playboy Bunnies on each arm flashes behind you. 

“And y'know, he drove right back to his badass kids after this.” You snicker, doubling over to hide your laughter from the cameras. 

"Let's refocus on the real hair look.” Behind you the screen fades to an image of Michael standing for pictures at the award show, his hair cascading in thick layers over his face, curving inward at the shoulder. You can’t help but take a peek for yourself while a collective “oh” comes from the stands.

“I was always under the impression that he wore some lil’ hairpieces, y’know to cover up that spot from the burns n’ whatnot…” Your movements are animated, hands painting a story all on their own accord. “But his hair has never done this. " You wave towards the picture, “which leads me to believe it's a wig.”

Inquisitive “hm’s” and “oh’s” surround you.

“Clap…” Pause for effect: “...if you think it’s a wig.”

The studio divides into cheers and “no’s.” You speak above it all. “Hmm alright, let's make a bet then. If it’s not a wig, I’ll eat crow, but if it is, everyone here is chewing feathers tomorrow, alright?” In the sea of laughter, you’re able to make out a few stray “okay’s” from recurring audience members.

“For our viewers who don’t know, eating crow is an expression we use to admit when we’re wrong. So far, we’re 1-2 after I ate crow for losing the bet on Kim and Kanye's marriage.

“So here I am again to prove to take my crown back. Let's see who's right. Please welcome the man himself, Michael Jackson.”

For the first time tonight the cameras avert their gaze from you, focusing on the doors you entered the room from.

The doors swing open to reveal Michael. Studio lights bouncing off his silver slacks and blazer. Under the smoky tux, a grey button-down with the top loose from restless retouches, peeking over his blazer. His hair glints similarly in the light, feathered layers from the performance the night before sleeker, leaving loose strands to fall in his face.

You've never heard the audience hoot this loud. “No one pass out; we don't have ambulances on standby.”

Michael bashfully laughs, waving to the crowd and surrounding cameras before taking a seat across from you. The sofa dips under the added weight as he keeps his eyes locked with yours to avoid the overwhelming sea of cameras dissecting his every breath.

“I know you’re shy, but do not worry; guests forget there's even cameras here." He takes a look around: the captivated audience, the cameras positioned in every corner, the microphone hanging near him… Maybe you're right. It’s as if he’s back on tour. “Doesn’t look too different from being on stage,” he thinks aloud.

“Do you miss it? touring n’whatnot?” Michael laughs, shaking his head. “No—I—” Whoops overpowered his soft voice. You egg the audience on. “See? See they all forget.” Fighting the smile on his face, Michael's arms shoot towards you, hovering in the air, as he starts to backtrack.

Thankfully, for your viewers at home, the microphone craning near Michael’s head picks up his gentle voice. “No, no, I love to tour! It’s just that… Sometimes, it can be… tiring.”

You give an inquisitive nod, your face beaming. "Well, I’d assume as much, y'know, on account of all the spinning and hooting you do.” Michael smiles mindlessly, his every thought hooked on you. “I’m a huge fan, by the way." 

“Really… That’s a hobby of yours, daytime television between changing diapers?”

“No, no… I don’t watch a lot of TV, only you.” 

Your eyes widen, losing hold of the frisky comment you had queued. The mesmerized audience causes you to recoup quickly. “I’m curious, how’d you hear about us? Were you flicking through channels or…”

He’s quick to answer.

“Actually…Tito introduced me to your show.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I was visiting California with my kids, and we were staying at the family home and—" Seeing a comedic opportunity, you interrupted, "You don't have any giraffes there, do you?”

Feeling exposed to the flickering cameras pointed at him, his gaze averts from yours for the first time since he sat down. A shy giggle escapes him as he covers his face. You can’t help but mirror his soft “hee-hee’s” back to him, which makes his frantic laughter worse. “They’re in Neverland."

You should’ve fished for more engaging moments for watchers to reel over, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “So you were in Encino, and?”

“And… Tito was watching your show in the living room. The moment I saw you, I called my management and asked if I could speak to the beautiful woman on TV, and here we are.”

Your face heats. It’s one thing to be called beautiful, but it’s another thing to be called beautiful by Michael Jackson. On live television. The bellowing whistles and applause coupled with Michael’s flirtatious undertone overwhelm you. But to Michael, all he can see is you. The crowd of seated fans serves as an ego boost.

You catch the grin on his face. He was doing this on purpose. You were not about to be humbled on your own show without a fight.

“Speaking of appearances since you seem well-versed in them. " You flick a pointed finger at Michael’s silky attire. “I don't know if you heard since you were standing behind the door, but,” you motion to the audience, “we were talking about you and made a little deal.”

Michael leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “A deal?” he repeats.

“More of a bet. The agreement is, if you’re not wearing a wig, I’ll eat crow. But if you are, everyone here will eat crow.” Hoots fill the air, spurring you on. “How does that sound? We test it and put the rumours to rest?”

“Sure.” Hoorahs follow. You knew he’d play along.

Michael shifts upright, his legs naturally falling open as he straightens his posture to face you directly. For a moment, he forgets the audience as he raises two fingers in a come-hither motion towards you. A wicked glint in his eye. “Come, test it."

This backfired quickly. You thought he’d do it himself, maybe give a light tug to save his PR team the hassle. You hold your tongue, stopping yourself from saying something you’d regret.

You drag your movements, giving him ample time to retract and brush his words off as a joke. But no, he kept his eyes on you the entire time. Standing between his parted legs, you raise your hands to his hairline, far away from the burn site. 

You hear his breath hitch for a moment, an involuntary reaction he forces down. “Go on.” Words meant for your ears only. Curse the high-grade microphone that caught it among the deafening “pull it, pull it!” chants.

With those doe eyes staring back at you and many more staring behind you, you pray your thumbs hook onto something.

Tug

Tug…

Nothing.

Your face drops. How is this possible? What kind of magical stylist does this man have?

You step back, forced out of your thoughts by Michael’s cackled "Sorry, (🎤︎︎)” and the audience's delight to see you proven wrong. "Dammit, Michael."

You turn to the audience, taking your seat once more. “Alright, alright. I’ll eat crow in the next episode.” 

After a commercial break you stand among the crowd, giving your closing statements for the night. “Despite having to eat crow tomorrow, I had a great time with my guest. Thank you to the live studio audience." Cheers rise behind you. "I'm down by one on our bet score. I love you for watching today, and I’ll see you next time, buh-bye.”

The next show came with routine ease. As you step backstage, preparing for the hour of hot topics and gossip ahead, your co-stars and producers are oddly… quiet. Usually they would’ve given you the rundown for what “type” of crow you’d be eating today, but when you asked, all you got was a vague "It's a surprise."

Now you’re getting your words thrown back at you; what has this week become?

Passing the flashy lights and cadenced “whoop-whoop’s” of the introduction, you take a seat at the clothed table. A knife and fork sat in front of you; the space where a plate should be is empty. “I’m in the dark just as much as you; I was told it was a… surprise. " You mime quotation marks to the audience.

Before you could wonder any longer, a chef wheels out a dining cart. A tall, oddly shaped mass hidden under a velvet cover. The closer he got, the more a faint clicking sound could be heard. "Mr. Jackson wanted to give you something as a thank you for yesterday.” 

“I can tell whatever he cooked is still bubbling in there.” You point at the clothed cylinder with your fork. The chef gives a reserved smile before lifting the clothed object and resting it in front of you. “Straight from Neverland…” 

You squint, another metal click, “why is it–” before you can inquire further, the chef lifts the cloak in one fell swoop, revealing an open birdcage. From it, a crow flies towards you, making you shriek and tumble backward.

That night as you got ready for bed, you checked your voicemail and saw an unfamiliar number flash on the screen. Maybe it’s one of your producers; you pick it up, and Michael’s wispy voice fills the speaker. You didn’t give him your number.

“Sorry, again (🎤︎︎); your reaction was too priceless not to see again. How about I make it up to you with a real dinner?”

a/n I'm not going to lie, I made this ending open-ended because halfway through writing I started to love the premise WAAAYYY too much, and I can totally see a 2 or maybe 3-part series with talkshow!reader and Michael. If I'll do it, idk.

　　　　　　　　Hungry 4 more?

taglist: @mjtvv @michaellvr @the-whitequeen-13 @brownsugarletters @sukunasstomachtongue

[g0ttheh0ts4mj]

I hate how every tiktok mj fan is a prude sorry like u can’t even utter the word sex on that app without them trying to cancel u jesus Christ YEAH I WANNA FUCK MICHAEL AND WHAT ABOUT IT DAMN OMG

[7typicaln7gga7]

and that’s why i preach the mjperv gospel. you cannot silence me!!!! WE ALL FREAKED OUT

[buckygasm]

I just fucking moaned

[kiyabtw]

Wanna be between him and zendaya so bad 🫦

[kiyabtw]

‘ 𝐆𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 ‘

M. Jackson x black!fem reader

‘ Warnings ‘ / explicit content; MDNI !

This is genuinely off the dome so if you see any mistakes mind yo business 💟

GOLD DIGGER. THAT’S WHAT MOST PEOPLE ASSUMED WHEN THEY SAW YOU AND MICHAEL TOGETHER. They saw a confident, curvy, black woman and instantly deduced that you were using the poor man to get a taste of the finer things in life. It didn’t help that the two of you were polar opposites.

To most people, Michael was a soft spoken, hardworking, kind-hearted young man. He was a once in a lifetime talent who was very humble. You on the other hand, were seen as a demanding, frivolous, and vapid groupie. Your sense of style didn’t exactly help with these thoughts either. You often wore tight but tasteful clothing, a nice cropped cream colored blouse with a low v neck that showed off your love handles or tight blue jeans that highlighted your hip dips.

Obviously this was seen as you being a dirty little attention whore. Constantly showing off your body when you had a good man like Michael by your side was just distasteful. 

Never mind the fact that Michael loved the clothes you wore and he loved how dominant and demanding you were. He loved subtly rubbing it into others' faces that they would never get to touch all of your goodness. They would never get to rub your thick thighs while he slowly fingered your puffy pussy. They would never know the feeling of your fat tits bouncing in their faces as you rode him to kingdom come, using him like your own personal sex toy. They would never understand the rush of euphoria he got feeling your luscious lips smack against his as you begged and pleaded for him to go faster, to get deeper.

People didn't know he felt that way though, obviously. They only saw poor little Michael Jackson being bossed around by his mean girlfriend. 

Not entirely sure how I feel about this but it was plaguing my thoughts and had no choice but to write this out real quick lol

[kiyabtw]

The craziest part of this whole jermajesty situation is the girl leaking their tape. Like there is no mf way I’m putting MY pussy out on the internet to get back at some nigga.

Like I don’t care how many other bitches you fucking, I don’t know them, don’t care about them, and I’m definitely not in competition with them.

And if the situation couldn’t get any more insane

and then apparently the two main girls are going back and forth with each other and throwing shots through their reposts on TikTok

Like why is everyone acting like teenagers?? And this is coming from a 19 yo too 😭

But on a more serious note, I do feel bad for jermajesty. I’ve never been in a romantic relationship nor have I had sex, but I imagine their has to be a good chunk of trust you have in someone to not only film a sex tape with them but also trust that it stays between the two of you. That girl leaking their tape as some type of revenge porn is diabolical

[blackwoman4mj]

This post is for black women only:

Anyways y’all I’m going to be completely honest, I hate sharing Michael with #those fans. I know it’s toxic but I feel like he should only be ours; I don’t like the way #they act in this fandom. Call me greedy I don’t care but #they don’t deserve him at all especially with how they treat us. As his women, I think we have every right to be strict and honestly we should be more strict because of what we have to deal with from #those fans. This is definitely going to piss them off but honestly I really don’t care at this point. I feel like they tend to have a habit of forgetting that Michael was Black first and that we (black women) were here long before any of them would’ve even looked his way. Like no shade but at the end of the day they’re just fans, we are literally HIS PEOPLE. Okay that’s enough being messy for today but it needed to be said and I’m pretty sure y’all understand why I’m saying this 😭

[multifandomposts-blog]

First of all, good morning

And let me expand on this.

This comes from a place of being fed up with all of this for so long. The same people who walk around preaching that Michael was for everybody will then go out of their way to exclude Black women, knowing damn well that we are the original fans of Michael.

As soon as y'all are the ones being excluded and you know who I'm talking about suddenly Michael is for everybody. Suddenly Michael loved everybody, Michael's music was for everybody, and Michael's message was for everybody. But as soon as it's Black women being excluded, we're doing too much, we're taking it too far, and we're acting like we own Michael.

The double standard in so many things in today's society never fails to baffle me.

I don't own Michael, and I will say that with discernment. I don't own Michael. But when I say I didn't mind sharing him, I meant that everybody is allowed to love Michael. Because Michael loved people. Michael loved beauty. Michael saw the good in people. Michael saw the good in the world.

So where do you get off being a fan of a Black man and his Black family while hating on Black women, knowing Michael loved Black women? Whether you think he liked Black women romantically or not, he still loved Black women. His sisters were Black. His mother was Black. His aunties were Black. His cousins were Black. Okay? Where do you get off? Where do you find the audacity?

And that's the thing I don't think y'all understand.

Any racist bitch who's thinking about coming into my inbox and sending me a hate message after this, don't bother.

You're anonymous. You're not even brave enough to say it with your real account or show your face on your account. You have to hide behind a screen. And I guarantee you that not a single one of you who are racist toward Black people in this fandom would ever have the fucking balls or audacity to walk up to any one of us in public and say the shit you say online to our faces.

Because at the end of the day, you're a pussy.

We know you're mentally ill. We know you're not the smartest. But guess what? That's not an excuse to be a dumb bitch.

Anywho, I'm getting back to my day and back to the positive.

Casual tag list : @plan3tch1ld @missharper33 @syrndollie @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @1andonlytashae

@callmeoncette @swavydadon @blkkbratt @heartsmashing @jks-luvr

@pvt-luv @misscowboyhat @kissmyglxck @kitty-trash @melanatedeuph0ria @melaninjoys @blcknebula @strawberrykittymp3 @brownsugarletters @plumppies @crazylady20

@narratedillusions @cvntttyybumblegumprincess @judesboots @chrollosblackgf66 @enzo6ekiiii @kiyabtw @soleantoinette @blacclotusss

[1andonlytashae]

Formation

Timeline: Mature era Modern AU

Pairing: Michael Jackson/Black reader (married)

Preview: It's the night of the live premiere for the short film for the Lemonade album and Michael joins the festivities.

Warnings: None

April 2016

Today was the day of a historic event and you, Taylor, Chanelle and even Niyah were all excited. For the life of him, Michael didn’t understand why. Sure he’d been hearing Beyoncé’s name more frequently around the house for the last couple months and knew she was releasing a new album, but the level of excitement all four of his girls were exhibiting was next level. 

It was a cool spring morning and Michael was enjoying retired life, so he spent a majority of his time at home with his family. Padding into the kitchen, he walked to the cabinet next to the refrigerator to grab a glass. Sitting the short rounded glass on the kitchen island, he turned toward the fridge and grasped the handle to reach in and pull out a bottle of orange juice. 

Shutting the door, he turned back to his glass and filled it about halfway. Placing the bottle to the side of his juice for a moment, he lifted the glass to his lips for a sip. 

“Yeah I know Tay, it’s coming on later tonight and you should be home in time right?” You asked your daughter as you strolled into the kitchen talking on the phone. 

Michael’s head instantly turned toward the sound of your voice like a dog distracted by a squirrel. 

“Nah baby girl, you don’t have to rush. It’s fine, enjoy your time with your friends.” You told her as you walked toward your husband who held an offended look on his face that you weren’t paying him any attention. 

Frowning, Michael crooked a finger at you. You shook your head cause you knew if you went remotely close to him, he’d engulf you in those long arms of his and be wrapped around you the rest of the day. 

“No” you mouthed to him with a lopsided grin. 

Michael wasn’t easily deterred. He turned to put the bottle back in the fridge before enjoying a few more swigs of juice and waiting to make his move. 

He took a moment to enjoy the view and let his eyes roam over you. You’d chosen to wear an oatmeal colored two piece bra and legging set with a long thick cardigan to match. The leggings molded to your hips very nicely and the cardigan billowed around you just enough for Michael to see your shapely thighs and hips. 

His eyes lowered to the crew socks you had on, you never liked wearing shoes in the house when you were just lounging, thought they made you feel constricted. Once he’d gotten his fill of your body, he’d moved his gaze to your face which was bare and further up you’d left your hair unwrapped so the short bob you were rocking was down and framed your face perfectly. 

Michael finished his juice and pounced, you’d turned your back to him which wasn’t a smart move and he snuck up behind you pulling you into his warm embrace while bending his head to nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck.

You startled, almost letting out a yell, barely remembering you were still on a phone call.

“Michael!” You scolded before lightly hitting him on the arm. 

“You were ignoring me, so I thought I’d come bother you. Tell baby girl I said hey.” He burrowed further into your neck and placed a soft open mouthed kiss on your collar bone. 

“Hmph. Sorry Tay, your dad’s being clingy this morning but he says hey.” You reached your free hand back and ran your fingers lightly through Michael’s hair while you finished up your conversation. 

“I’m gonna try and chill before the release tonight, but we’ll see how well that goes since I’ve got my permanent shadow attached to me now.” You quipped, giggling when Michael lightly pinched your hip. 

“Behave” You whispered to him after pulling the phone away from your mouth for a second. 

“Alright, Taylor I’m gonna get off this phone and I’ll have everything ready for later tonight. I got you baby girl, see you in a few hours. I love you and drive safe.” You ended the call.

“Tay coming home tonight for ya’ll big event or whatnot?” Michael inquired with his arms still wrapped around you. He was now rubbing small circles into your sides. 

“Yep, me and the girls are gonna watch the video premiere of Beyonce’s Lemonade album on HBO. Real excited cause I know it’s gonna be epic!” You announced with glee.

“Oh yeah, maybe I’ll join too. See what the kids are doing nowadays for short films or music videos as they call them.” Michael bent his head again and laid another kiss against your neck. 

Turning in his hold, you placed a hand on his chest. Gazing up at him, you had to admit time had been good to your husband, he still looked as handsome and sexy as he did back in the day when you met him. 

“Ok, but don’t be giving commentary the whole time babe. We wanna be able to enjoy the experience and don’t say I didn’t warn you cause you’ll have to deal with your daughters, not me.” You stated, setting ground rules now cause you knew how he could get. 

“Now why you do me like that mama? I can be cool and not talk the entire time.” He defended himself while giving you those Bambi eyes. 

“Mmhmm.” you reached your left hand up pulling Michael’s head down for a kiss.  “You say that now baby, but watch later on. What you want for breakfast my love?”

Several hours later….

Dimmed lights, popcorn buckets strewn about, cups sweating with condensation, four overly hyped ladies and one intrigued King of Pop. 

The theater room had been transformed into a different world. On the table, dressed with a long white tablecloth, sat a two tiered stand with cupcakes decorated as lemons with various ‘Boy bye”  and ‘I Slay’ toppers sticking out, on either side of the cupcakes were decorative vases  filled with glossy black rocks and plastic lemons spilling out like bouquets. 

Straws with a Beyoncé topper were carefully arranged in a yellow cup and both you and Taylor were sipping on pineapple Hennessy lemonades with said straws. There were lemon shaped balloons floating around amongst shiny black and gold balloons littered on the floor and even a few streamers hung near the huge movie screen. 

Applause, excited cackles, a bit of commentary from Michael and even several full dance breaks had broken out during the live viewing of Lemonade. However so far it had been a really good night and you knew that Formation must be up soon since it was nearing the end of the short film. 

Michael was cuddled next to you and occasionally would steal sips from your lemonade while softly whispering about parts of the film.

“Oh I love this imagery mama, really tells a story.” 

“Damn, not she busting the windows.” 

“Baby, you should get your hair braided like that, would look so sexy.” 

Truthfully you didn’t think Michael would be as excited as he was. At one point he actually got up and started dancing to ‘Sorry’ with full out dips, twists and turns. A bright smile on his face the entire time almost as if he missed the energy that came with performing. 

You couldn’t help but get a little choked up by the wonder crossing his eyes and witnessing his joy during the short film. It filled your heart and you cherished being able to share the moment with Michael. 

Soon the last traces of ‘All Night Long’ faded out and you knew ‘Formation’ was right around the corner and swiftly sat your drink down on the table in front of you. The move jostled Michael who’d had his arm around your shoulders. 

“This must be the part you were waiting on huh?” He noted. 

Perched on the edge of your seat, you patted Michael’s knee in confirmation. 

“I know this is gonna be good!” you whispered. 

As soon as the first beat dropped and you heard Big Freida’s voice come through you were clasping your hands together and grinning from ear to ear. The scenes from New Orleans, Beyoncé in the hallway and little Blue Ivy were too much and you hopped up from the couch for another dance break, this time joined by your daughters.

Michael watched on with pure joy and excitement right along with ya’ll, seeing his girls happy, safe and enjoying ya’ll selves was all he could ever ask for in this life. But then he heard a line that made him pause. 

‘I like my baby heir 

With baby hair and afros 

I like my negro nose 

With Jackson Five nostrils’ 

In slow motion, a shit eating grin took over his face and he silently chuckled. ‘Ain’t that something’ He thought. Who would’ve thought the Jacksons would still be relevant in 2016 and be referenced in a Beyoncé song no less. 

Gradually the room quieted, the lights brightened and the buzz of adrenaline lingered. You reached for your lemonade taking a few gulps before sitting back next to your husband and taking in his expression. 

“Hey baby, you good? What did you think?” you asked as you started running your fingers over the hair at his nape. 

Michael still had a blissful expression on his face when he responded. 

“That was pretty brilliant and creative, definitely had some songs I enjoyed and could groove to. I was kinda surprised with the Jacksons line and it made me happy actually, cause I didn’t know how popular we’d still be today.” 

“You’d be surprised and fun fact, she added that line because of the backlash Jay was getting for his looks and in homage to Black folks and how good we look with our natural features.” You placed a hand under Michael’s chin lifting it for him to look at you.

 “Hell I think it’s a compliment to younger Michael cause you were FIONE back then too baby.” you smirked. 

Michael’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink and his gaze downturned before meeting your eyes. He leaned forward and captured your lips in a lingering kiss. 

“Aww, thanks mama that means a lot. I think it’s important to love yourself and we as Black  people should be proud of where we come from and our features.” He ran a finger over the bridge of your nose while he seemed to be lost in thought. 

“Good and I know what you’re probably thinking, so don’t even go there. You’re still just as sexy now and I have no problem reminding you of that later tonight.“ you’d spoken in a low sultry tone for only him to hear. 

He could admit to himself he’d almost gotten lost in ghosts from the past and thinking about his own struggles with self image and how sometimes the struggle would resurface, but he was thankful to have a partner that was quick to speak affirmations over him and constantly remind him how good he looked to her. 

“You really are so good to me baby, I love you girl. So let me show you just how much.” Michael whispered against your lips. 

Pleasure so hot shot straight to your core and just like that you were ready to jump his bones. ‘Yeah, upstairs NOW!’ you thought. 

Standing up from the recliner, you grabbed Michael’s hand and you both made a quick escape to your bedroom. Who knew Beyoncé would get you dick tonight?! 

Tag list:

@wildpandorasky @thebabykashmere

[1andonlytashae]

The New "Normal"

Timeline: Modern AU

Series: A Day in the Life-The Jacksons

Pairing: Michael x black wife

Preview: It takes patience being a parent and Michael has plenty of it before school drop off.

Content: fluff, family time, dad!Michael

🏠✧🏠✧🏠

May 2010

Being a father was always a dream of his since he could remember. The day you told him you were pregnant with Taylor, Michael was wrapping up the Dangerous tour and even flew back home a day early. 

When you surprised him with a red onesie that read “Future Musician” to announce you were pregnant with Jayce, he was so happy he damn near ran a lap around Neverland with the biggest smile on his face. 

During your pregnancy with Chanelle, Michael was in the midst of a nasty promotion battle with Sony. You were so worried, upset and emotional that you didn’t even tell him about the baby until you were two months along. 

Niyah’s presence was a surprise. During the World Music Awards, you remember Michael looking especially fine that night and took him down as soon as you both were back in the hotel suite. About a month and 10 pregnancy tests later, it was confirmed you had another bundle of joy on the way. 

Michael adored his children he really did, but they were about to work his last good nerve this morning. 

First, Taylor kept begging to drive to school as practice for her driver’s test. The car in question, Michael’s Rolls Royce. She claimed if she could handle that particular vehicle, then any car would be no problem. 

“Daddy, come on! It’ll be fine, I’ve been practicing with mommy, uncle Marlon and even auntie Janet.” She pleaded her case. 

“They may be willing to risk they lives, but I still got plenty life to live baby girl.” Michael quipped pointing the spatula he was using to flip pancakes at her.

Continuing his morning routine in preparing his precious angels for school, Michael finished plating a fresh stack of golden brown pancakes complete with slightly crispy edges. 

“Mornin’ family, the star of the show has arrived!” Jayce loudly announced with a cocky grin. 

Being the only boy surrounded by sisters, Jayce had found a way to stick out. Family jokester. 

“Good mornin’ son. How’d you sleep, applehead? Michael asked as he set the plate of fluffy flapjacks in the middle of the kitchen table. 

“Great! Ready to crush this math test today.” Jayce answered while piling his plate high with pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, and a piece of toast. 

Both Taylor and Michael stared at the leaning tower of Piza he was currently building on his plate. 

Sensing eyes on him, Jayce froze, dark brown orbs looking up. 

“What?” He shrugged. “I’m a growing boy.” 

Drowning his short stack in syrup, Jayce cut into the warm and fluffy confection and stuffed a large piece in his mouth. 

“Boy, it ain’t gone run from you. Slow down son!” Michael admonished. 

The only acknowledgement he received? A thumbs up.

Shaking his head, in parental exasperation, Michael went back to the stove to get another batch of pancakes ready. 

Several minutes later, the sound of light footfalls could be heard approaching the kitchen. 

Hair making an appearance before she did, Chanelle stepped into the kitchen with her baby pink ombre box braids done up in space buns and sporting a pair of pink high top converse to give her otherwise bland navy blue and khaki uniform a pop of color. 

Finishing her look with matching pink plaid glasses Chanelle was definitely the fashionista of the siblings.  With a mini spin she announced her presence. 

“Morning sissy. Morning bubby, Mornin’ daddy!” She chirped as she skipped to Michael’s side, throwing her arms around his waist. 

“Good morning my ray of sunshine! You look beautiful love bug.” He leaned down, hugging her to his side and planting a kiss atop her braids. 

Beaming, Chanelle loved getting praise from her father. She was definitely a daddy’s girl. 

“Thank you daddy! Mama helped me.” Chanelle released him and walked over to sit at the kitchen table. 

“Oh, daddy can you sign my permission slip for my field trip to the aquarium please? Mama told me to ask you.” She inquired as she took a sip of orange juice. 

Cutting off the burner, Michael removed the frying pan and focused on his middle daughter. Bless her soul, she was the sweetest, but forgetful as hell. 

“When is the trip Nelle?” Before she even fixed her lips to answer, he braced himself for the fallout. 

Ducking her head, she shoved a forkful of eggs in her mouth after muttering, “Today.”

Now Michael understood why you told her to ask him. Out of the two of you, he was the softie, the pushover from time to time, of course. 

Rolling his eyes, he propped a hand on his hip. 

“Now love bug, what have ya mama and I told you bout waiting last minute? Can’t be a child o’ mine, not being punctual.” He tsked.

Giving a sheepish shrug, Chanelle swallowed the food in her mouth. 

“Sorry daddy, I thought I put a note in my tablet.”

Fighting back a smile, Michael tried remaining stern.  “Go get it so I can sign before we leave. Don’t want to be late.” 

The brightest smile filled her face before Chanelle was bouncing around in her seat. 

“Thank you daddy, you’re the best dad ever!” 

“Mmhmm. Finish ya breakfast lovely children of mine. Gotta be out the house in 45 minutes." Michael announced, cleaning up the dishes left behind from cooking. 

Breakfast ran smoothly without further antics, so Michael took that time to get dressed for school drop off. 

“Think ya’ll can behave ya’selves for a minute while I get dressed?” Michael inquired of the trio.

Throwing a distracted hand up at her father, Taylor spoke up. “I got things covered dad, we good.” 

Turning her attention back to her phone already, clearly dismissing Michael. 

Mouth slightly a jar and brows raised, Michael was a bit offended. 

“Oh, so I’m “dad” now huh? Unbelievable.”  He scoffed as he made his way out the kitchen. 

Reaching your shared bedroom, his whole demeanor changed. Standing in the arch way of the French doors, Michael watched as you sat at your vanity fastening a pair of gold earrings in your dainty lobes. 

You wore light makeup and your favorite pair of black square frames perched on your nose. Sensing your husband’s presence, you tilted your head and locked gazes in the mirror.

“Morning handsome. Breakfast go alright today?” You smiled as you turned to face him. 

Moving from the doorway, Michael made his way over to inhabit your space. 

Stopping behind your chair, he cupped your chin tilting it up and bent forward, dropping a quick kiss on your full lips. 

“Mmm, morning beautiful. Everything went well, I left the big three to finish eating while I get dressed.” Dropping another kiss on your lips, Michael left your side to head into your massive, shared walk in closet. 

“Oh, I owe you a few swats for setting me up with that permission slip stunt.” Michael called from the closest. 

Pretending not to him, you feigned ignorance. 

“Huh, what you say baby?” you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped. 

Walking back into the main room, Michael gave you an infamous side eye.

“You heard me girl. Next time I’m sayin’ no and gone make you do it.” 

Cutting your eyes at Michael, you both already knew that was a lie. 

“Yeah, ok baby, sure. I knew you couldn’t tell your love bug no and I didn’t want to be the bad guy this morning.” 

Standing from your plush chair, you stretch, reaching your arms up toward the ceiling, causing the fire orange and golden yellow mumu you wore to strain against your ample and plush curves. 

Michael’s attention was instantly caught! It was no secret, he adored your body in whatever you wore, but when you wore a mumu, the man was rendered speechless. 

Pausing, you swung your gaze toward him to see why he suddenly went quiet. 

Holding a pair of black linen pants and a long sleeve burgundy button up, Michael’s brown orbs were locked on your peach shaped ass. 

“See something you like, big daddy?” 

Sauntering over towards you, Michael didn’t stop until he was damn near standing right on top of you. Wrapping his free arm around your waist, he tugged your short frame against his chest and splayed a large hand over your right ass cheek. 

“Mama, I’m gone be on you in a minute. Why you playin’ with me this mornin’?” Michael growled as he slightly bent his head, leaned in close and delivered a deep, soul snatching kiss to your awaiting lips. 

Hands resting around his neck, you let your nails scrape against Michael’s nape. You smirked against his lips when you heard him groan. 

Michael gently bit your lip, sucking it into his mouth. He held it there for several seconds before releasing it. 

Pulling back, a content smile took over his face. He loved kissing you and getting you flustered. 

Heat rested over your cheeks as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth and found yourself avoiding Michael’s eyes.

“Don’t go shy on me now baby.” He murmured huskily. 

“You still manage to knock me off my feet after all these years.” You respond with a dreamy look upon your face. 

“Then I’m doing my job.” Michael squeezed your ass with a grin, and released your waist to lay his clothes on the bed and finished getting ready for the day.

45 minutes later:

Everyone had since made their way into the kitchen which had become a flurry of activity. 

You’d made your way downstairs after scooping up your three year old, Niyah from her room. Sitting on the kitchen island, she happily ate an orange slice while watching her older siblings gather up their belongings. 

“Ya’ll got everything for the day? Cause once we leave, I’m not turning back around.” Michael announced as he grabbed his keys. 

A chorus of  “yes” rang out, until you spoke up. 

“Nelle, you forgetting something love bug?”

Pinched between your fingers was the almost forgotten permission slip 

“Whew, OMG! Thank you mommy, I would’ve been devastated.” Chanelle declared in a dramatic flair that rivaled her father’s. 

Chuckling, you handed the paper to her and kissed her temple.

“What I’m here for baby.” 

Hugging each of your children, you sent them out the door with positive affirmations, same as every morning. 

“You are smart. You are kind. You matter. You are strong. You are beautiful. I love you my babies, have a great day! Don’t drive ya daddy crazy on the ride.” 

Michael, being the last to walk out the kitchen, placed a kiss on the crown of NIyah’s head and then one on your cheek. 

“Be back soon my pretty girls. Love you pumpkin, love you mama.” 

“Love you too baby. Drive safe Michael.” You gave him a stern look with a slight smirk.

“I’m always safe baby girl.” He replied with a boyish grin. 

“I mean it and don’t let Taylor talk you into driving either. I can only handle one speed racer in this house." You warned. 

Waving a hand as he walked out the door, Michael had no intention of heeding your warning. He handled drop off like a pro, as usual, since he’d taken over a year ago. 

Getting three children dropped off at two different schools, no problem. He’d made it in under 30 minutes… mission accomplished!

🏠✧🏠✧🏠  

Tag list: @wildpandorasky, @brownsugarletters, @multifandomposts-blog, @thebabykashmere, @pytafterdark, @bawdylanguageee, @xyahx, @theonlyonlinefish, @loves2tour, @ttangerinexo, @narratedillusions, @alleycat808, @naturallykae, @curlypytclubx

[enjoyherself]

𓏲﹕ history!michael x heavy chested!reader ﹕⸝⸝ — req !

your husband michael is obsessed with your amazing rack ! iss. 026 the twinloves

p.s. i am SO sorry for going awol. thank yall for 600 followers, might do a face reveal later today in honor of it. i am about to upload so many fics, so watch out…also, mama’s a itty bitty warrior, so let me know if this is right.

husband𑁤michael : who met you at a grammy afterparty, and he couldn't keep his eyes off your chest. not in a creepy, lecherous way, but with a kind of awe, like a pilgrim who'd finally reached the holy land. you were wearing a deep crimson gown with a neckline that plunged daringly, and your full, natural breasts were a stunning, breathtaking sight. he spent the whole night trying to have a conversation with your cleavage.

husband𑁤michael : who, after you finally got him to look at your face, confessed with a blush that he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life. he was shy, stammering, a far cry from the king of pop on stage. he asked, in a near whisper, if he could… well, if he could touch them. you laughed, took his hand, and placed it right over your heart. the feel of your warm, soft skin under his palm, the weight of you in his hand, it was his undoing.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to buy you clothes, but only one specific kind. he'll spend hours in the most expensive boutiques, not looking at elegant gowns or designer suits, but at the most revealing, most daring tops and dresses. "try this one on," he'll say, holding up a silk camisole with lace trim that offers very little support and even less coverage. he loves the way you look in them, the way the fabric drapes and clings to your curves, the way it makes you look both elegant and scandalous at the same time.

husband𑁤michael : who gets a visceral thrill when he sees other men looking at you. you'll be at a restaurant, and you'll lean over to grab something from your purse, and the deep v-neck of your dress will gape open, giving the table next to you an eyeful. he'll watch them, their jaws practically on the floor, and he'll have to fight the urge to puff out his chest like a proud peacock. because he knows. he knows that while they can look, they can't touch. they can look, but he gets to take you home.

husband𑁤michael : who has a specific ritual when you get ready to go out. he'll sit on the bed and watch you get dressed, his gaze dark and intense. you'll put on your bra, a lacy, flimsy thing that barely contains you, and then you'll start on the outfit. a low-cut blouse, a tight-fitting dress. he'll wait until you're fully dressed, and then he'll get up, walk over to you, and very deliberately reach down and cup your breasts, lifting them, adjusting them, making sure they're displayed to their best advantage. "perfect," he'll murmur, giving them a gentle squeeze. "jus’ perfect."

husband𑁤michael : who can't keep his hands to himself. at home, he's constantly touching them. you'll be washing dishes, and he'll come up behind you, sliding his arms around your waist, his hands inevitably finding their way up to your chest, kneading them like a contented cat. you'll be watching a movie on the couch, and he'll rest his head on your lap, one hand idly toying with the plump swell of your breast, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your shirt, back and forth, back and forth, until you're squirming.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to fuck your tits. it's one of his favorite things. he loves the feel of your soft, warm skin wrapped around him, the sight of your huge breasts enveloping him, the way your nipples pebble as he strokes himself between them. he'll hold them together, his hands squeezing, massaging, as he thrusts, his breathing growing ragged. and when he comes, he'll paint your chest with his release, a pearly white mess that he'll lovingly rub into your skin, marking you as his.

husband𑁤michael : who is obsessed with your nipples. he loves the size, the color, the way they get hard at the slightest touch. he'll spend hours just playing with them, pinching, rolling, tugging, until you're arching your back and begging for more. he loves to lick them, to suck them, to feel them tighten in his mouth. sometimes, when he's feeling particularly possessive, he'll use ice, tracing the sensitive skin around your nipple with the cold cube, watching it pucker into a tight, hard peak, then warming it with his hot mouth, a shocking, delicious contrast of sensations.

husband𑁤michael : who has a particular weakness for you in a simple, white t-shirt with no bra. the way the thin, wet fabric clings to your breasts after you've had a shower, the dark shadow of your areolas clearly visible through the cotton, it's a sight that makes his mouth go dry and his cock harden instantly. it's the paradox of it that gets him: the innocence of the white shirt combined with the raw, primal sexuality of what's underneath.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to watch you get undressed. he'll lie back on the pillows, propped up on his elbows, and just watch. he loves the slow reveal, the way your breasts are finally freed from the constraints of your bra, the way they bounce slightly with the movement, the way they settle into their natural, heavy shape. it's like a private show, a performance just for him, and he's always the most attentive, appreciative audience member.

husband𑁤michael : who, when he's on tour, will call you late at night, his voice a low, husky whisper. "what’re you wearin’, baby?" he'll ask. and you'll know exactly what he wants to hear. "a lil’ silk nightgown," you'll say. "n’ nothin’ else." he'll be quiet for a moment, and you can hear his breathing change. "touch ‘em f’me," he'll command softly. "touch your breasts. pretend 's my hands." and you will, describing every sensation to him, your fingers pinching and pulling, until you can hear him come on the other end of the line, a low, guttural groan that makes you ache for him.

husband𑁤michael : who loves to fall asleep with his head pillowed on your chest. it's the ultimate comfort for him, the ultimate security. the soft, warm weight of your breast against his cheek, the steady, rhythmic beat of your heart beneath his ear, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing. it's his anchor in the storm of his life, a simple, perfect, peaceful moment where he is not a performer, not a celebrity. he is just a man, with his head on his wife's chest, and everything is right with the world.

husband𑁤michael : who, during arguments, will get distracted. you'll be in the middle of a heated discussion about finances or a scheduling conflict, and you'll gesture emphatically, and he'll just… stop. he'll watch the way your breasts move under your shirt, the way the fabric pulls taut across your chest, and all the anger will just drain out of him, replaced by a wave of pure, unadulterated lust. "what?" you'll snap, noticing his vacant expression. he'll just shake his head, a slow, guilty smile spreading across his face. "nothin’," he'll say. "jus’… forgot what we were fightin’ about."

husband𑁤michael : who loves it when you wear his shirts. one of his crisp, white button-downs, worn with nothing underneath. the fabric is too big for you, and it hangs off one shoulder, gaping at the front to give him a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage. he'll unbutton it himself, slowly, one button at a time, kissing the skin he exposes. he'll leave it on you, open, as he makes love to you, the soft cotton a stark, innocent contrast to the raw, passionate act.

husband𑁤michael : who has a photo album hidden in his private study, and it's full of pictures of your breasts. close-ups, artistic shots taken in black and white, candid photos of you sunbathing topless, polaroids from your more adventurous nights. he'll look at it when he's feeling stressed or lonely, a private gallery of the one part of you he can never get enough of. it's his secret, guilty pleasure, a tangible reminder of the most beautiful, most perfect, most beloved part of his world.

husband𑁤michael : who, in the throes of passion, will talk to them. he'll bury his face between them, muttering incoherent praises, "god, i love you... you're s’perfect... you're all mine." it's as if they're separate entities, with their own personalities, their own power over him. he'll look up at you from his position on your chest, his eyes dark with adoration, and he'll say, "they're th’ reason i breathe, baby. th’ reason i get up in th’ mornin’."

husband𑁤michael : who loves to see them in motion. he'll watch you go up the stairs in front of him, the gentle sway and bounce of your unrestrained breasts beneath your shirt, and it's the most erotic thing he's ever seen. he'll watch you jog on the treadmill, or dance in the kitchen while you cook, and he'll be mesmerized, completely captivated by the simple, beautiful physics of it all.

nyle’s roster - - @angelofmikes @mjssolocup @king-mila @pheebsglow @camillemonroe @neverstreett @imeatingheehee @cottonkhandyy @loveposiie @khxna @luvs4harrington @snoopyreincarnated3 @jusforbey @anglfac @animegamerfox @wannabestartinsmth comment to join the taglist!

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟔 @ENJOYHERSELF. every story published here is my original work unless stated otherwise. please don't repost, translate, or redistribute without permission.

[slvttyfied]

ᥫ᭡. MAJ IS YOUR BABY’s FATHER | HCs ‹𝟹

w: 18+, toxicity, cussing/swearing, daddy/papa for him, ma/mama for you, use of the n word, black/fem! momma, sexual themes — pnv pentration/breeding kink — you can tell they still fckin on the low, Jermajesty just wants his family back together.

ᢉ𐭩 G SPEAKS: papa man is confirmed toxic, lemme feed into this.

────୨ৎ────

baby daddy! maj who…

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who will never say it but he lowkey trapped you — he promised to pull out but when he lost himself too deep within you, just couldn’t help himself. you shuddered with every thought of feeling him cum inside of you for the first time.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who knew parenthood was down the line for your futures eventually but couldn’t resist letting the world see what he did to you when it happened. Thoughts of proudly walking around with your swollen belly knowing he was the reason you were growing like that.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who wanted you off the market even more than you already were just by being his girl. Who always joked about going half on a baby. Who always wondered what both of your genes would look like on your kid. Who already had a list of baby names in his phone.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who bought you the plan b and was disappointed that it worked so the next time y’all had sex, he begged to do it again— promising it would be the last time, he just wants to feel it again.

“‘jus this last time, i fuckin’ swear… you just feel so fuckin’ good, ma” pussy drunken babbling and planting wet kisses down your spine, his hands gripped your hips tight enough to bruise, pulling you back on his dick desperately. Gushy, wet, gummy walls wrapped around him like a fucking vice with every push and pull. Your head fell on top of your arms in pure submission.

You should’ve told him no or pled a case to contradict his but his strokes were enough to turn your brain into mush. “‘s okay, baby… ‘jus don’t stop, please… ‘m so close” you murmured back.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who was on your body much more than usual before you got pregnant. who made sure to fuck you again shortly after that night.

He didn’t plan at all to drink that night but he wasn’t going to stop you from doing so. he had a drink and two. the club felt straight out of a movie— one arm reached back into his hair as your hips danced to the beat of ‘Like That’ by Summer Walker, your ass pressed tightly against his crotch in your mini dress, circling on his khakis.

it was probably the way you tilted your head back and looked at him— that soft drunk look in your pupils that had your eyes low, your cat eye lash extensions didn’t help either. Jermajesty knew what that look meant.

He smirked, “don’t start actin’ out in here, cool it, ma” you frowned in faux concern, “‘whatchu mean, papa?” Your tongue darted out to wet the corners of your mouth, fully staring your boyfriend down. but the final straw was taking his hand that rested on your stomach and guiding it under your dress— “‘s all for you, daddy”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who wasn’t as faded as you, he needed have to be. Jermajesty knew he wasn’t letting the moon go down without putting you through the mattress.

ꪆৎ baby daddy! jermajesty who had you on your back to finish the third round, your ankles on his shoulders as he pounded into you. “pussy real good, mama” he groaned, dipping down to kiss you, “‘gon make me fuckin’ nut in you, put my baby in you” you mewled, gushing around him. no objections?

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who stood with you in the bathroom was you waited for your third pregnancy test to process a couple weeks later. you really didn’t know why a third was needed when two of them already was positive — “‘jus wanna be sure” he mumbled. there was no use in turning it over or looking away, he wrapped both arms around your body and stared over your shoulder as the timer went off — pregnant.

“is this something you even wanna do?” you asked, pressing your face into his chest, squeezing him tighter, “be a father?”

Jermajesty blanched, jerking his head back to look down and meet your eye, “are you kidding me? of course i want to do this. there’s nobody else I’d rather do this parent shit with. I love you, bae, more than anything— more than myself. if it’s anybody to be down with for eighteen years and more, it’ll always be you, ma”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who’s with you through every stage of your pregnancy. first — morning sickness, ginger ale, crackers, fatigue, and the smallest bump that becomes adorably noticeable. second — nature walks, date night dinners, getting your hair and nails done every two weeks, midnight cravings for key lime pie and french fries, baby shopping, maternity photoshoots, and a newfound libido that kept your sex life active. third — finalizing the nursery, sleeping with a pregnancy pillow, swollen feet, sex to begin dilating you, the baby shower, trying things to soften your cervix. but nothing compared to the day when your baby girl was born.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who loved every minute of watching you give birth. who absolutely cried. who promised he was gonna marry you. who held your hand and kissed your head as you pushed. every scream was worth the skin to skin with his daughter.

“What’s her name?”

“Dream Emilia Jackson” 🎀

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who slowly became a different person in the later months following Dream’s birth. Who seemingly slept a lot more or stayed out longer with his brothers despite their protests for him to go home.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who slowly became more avoidant to you as the mother of his heart and soul. Who stopped touching you, who slept away from you, who only responded to stimuli if Dream was involved. He loved his daughter more than life itself and wouldn’t dare abandon her regardless of his feelings.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who let his cold feet of first time parenthood influence him.

“where’ve you been?” you asked standing at the island of your kitchen, putting away the dinner he missed out on again for the third night in a row.

“nowhere, where’s Dream?”

“Jermajesty Jackson don’t fuckin’ play with me” you said lowly, almost too relaxed. Both for the sake of your sleeping daughter and your sanity.

“I’m not playin’, why you cussin’ at me like I’m some random nigga on the street?”

“Because you’re acting like some random nigga on the street. Comin’ in here this late like you don’t have responsibilities? Like you weren’t supposed to help me with our child? Help I shouldn’t have to ask you for, by the way. I didn’t get pregnant by fuckin’ myself”

He sighed out, “here we fuckin’ go—“

You blanched, turning up your nose, “here we go, what?”

“With this, again. I already told you what was happening tonight— it’s Randy’s birthday and all we did was go out for drinks after dinner—“

“Drinks you didn’t tell me you were getting but continue— I thought you’d be coming back home after dinner like you told me before you left—“

“Plans change, okay?!” He barked out in a hushed tone, “The plans changed. Randy wanted to stay out later with Jaafar, Omer, and I and I wasn’t gonna say no— That’s my brother, i wanted to have a good time with him—“

“And that’s more than fine, it’s just the fact that you didn’t say shit! I would’ve understood more if you told me”

Jermajesty shook his head and shrugged, the side of his mouth turning up slightly. “Even if I said something you still would’ve had an issue. Just because I’m out doesn’t mean I’m fuckin’ cheatin’ on you, (Y/N), goddamn”

You blinked at him, you even felt one of your eyes twitch. You giggled quietly to yourself and shook your head, closing up the final tupperware container. Jermajesty swallowed, watching you put the food filled containers in the fridge, still chuckling to yourself.

“Okay…” you mumbled, “you have me so.. fucked up right now but I think I finally know where your head’s at. ‘Gon ‘head and get comfortable on that couch, you’re no longer welcomed in my space”

Despite forgiving him and hearing out his own grievances a week later, your final straw came up again. When given an inch, your stupid boyfriend took a mile, like always. After promising to just be present more, he slipped up once again.

What was before coming in past 10 PM, your boyfriend stumbled inside the house at 3 in the morning. Completely ruining the night due to his absence and lack of communication. Tipsy, you’d smelled it on him when he fell into bed beside you, immediately falling into a deep sleep.

“Out, I need you out. I’m so fucking tired of you not keeping your word— not just to me but for Dream and I refuse for her to be subject to that this early. I’m better off doing this shit myself”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who didn’t put up a fight— not because he didn’t care but because he did care. Who didn’t want to continue disappointing you. Who packed up his things and found his way back into the expansive Hayvenhurst home.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who continued caring for Dream and coparenting with you. Who agreed to pick ups and drop offs. Who hadn’t really spoken to you since that day.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who attended Dream’s first birthday party at your new house looking completely different. He was bigger, leaner, fitter looking. His once soft coils buzzed off into something shorter and sharper. The theme was pink and he showed up in a simple pale pink short sleeved button down with jeans.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who carried many of gifts and proudly toted around his pride and joy on his hip. Who respected your wishes and mingled with you solely in regards to Dream. Who agreed to keep Dream for the entire week to give you a break.

“He looks good, girl, I can’t lie” you said, taking a forkful of Dream’s strawberry vanilla marble cake. You stood in your kitchen along with one of Dream’s many of aunts— your best friend Micah.

“You’re still reminiscing, I see” Micah smirked as she also took in some cake on her plate.

“Not even. I’m just observing— I can do that and I’m observing that he looks… healthier… and I think that’ll be good for Dream”

“Good for Dream or good for you and Dream?”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re annoying”

She shrugged, going quiet for a moment. She took another bite. “How is coparenting going with him? Are y’all speaking? Cordial?”

You nodded immediately, “oh we’re cordial for sure. It’s been the best way for us to get things done about Dream. It’s great, we’re fine”

Nobody needed to know what you and Jermajesty really considered to be cordial.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who, a whole year later, realized he missed you more than any-fucking-thing in the world…

“Hello?”

Your voice called out on his car phone. Baby Dream in her car seat completely passed out, her cutesy big head tilted down, snores slipping past her drooling mouth.

“Hey, it’s Maj. Are you home?”

You paused for a moment, “uh, no not yet but I’m pulling up”

Jermajesty pursed his lips, softly frowning. “It’s 9– almost 10 PM, where you comin’ from?”

On your end, behind the steering wheel, you also blanched and let out a chuckle, “you don’t get to be in my business. What’s up— why’re you calling me? Is Dream ok?”

“Nah, where you comin’ from and who you with?”

All you could do was laugh and shake your head. It really wasn’t funny but you had to laugh to steady yourself. Jermajesty Jermaine Jackson really knew how to get under your skin.

“Boy, don’t make me cuss on this phone knowin’ my daughter is probably right next to you. You have no reason to question me or try to be in my business, we are not together anymore. It’s been a year. Have I ever questioned you? Or harass you about the women you probably been thirsty to get up with? No. So don’t bring this to me. Again, is my baby ok?”

It was a half truth you’d never admit to him. Your girlfriends got your side of how you really felt about such a possibility since Jermajesty was single again. Spoiler alert: you hated it.

“Dream is good, back here sleep. I was seein’ if you were home so I could drop off some more stuff that came in the mail late for her birthday but you outside so I guess I can’t do that, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. His tone was light and laced with soft sarcasm but truly, Jermajesty was already getting pissed off. He pulled up in your two car driveway and turned his vehicle off, folding his arms.

“Don’t start. This gotta be you in my driveway, I’m right behind you. C’mon and get out so I can get these gifts… so I can send ‘yo ass right back home, you pissin’ me off”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who wore a playful stank face as you stepped out of your car and approached his. You watched as he also stepped out and leaned against the vehicle. Who rolled his eyes when you let out another laugh.

“Ain’t shit funny, don’t come over here with that”

You fell into his body with a side hug, only for him to playfully push you off.

“Nah don’t be huggin’ on me, I’on know where you been at. Probably all up on these other niggas out here— don’t be touchin’ me, girl”

You swatted at his chest, giving his torso a squeeze. “I still let you touch me and I don’t be knowing what bitch you got in your bed so shut the hell up—“

“Yeah I don’t care about allat. It’s too many niggas that’s been waiting for me to up my place to try and get in your face— I know you. Don’t play with me”

“You sound bitter, don’t be, it’s ugly. For the record, I don’t allow niggas in my face but even if I did, it’s not for you to know. This ain’t all you no more”

‘This’ being you. Not just your body but your heart. Not just your heart but the ins and outs of who you were. Everything that Jermajesty knew so well. He believed you when you said you weren’t entertaining anybody but the fact that it actively wasn’t him still broke his heart.

“Enough of this cordial shit, where’s my baby? Where’s her stuff?”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who really couldn’t get you out of his head even if he tried. Who really got irritated at the thought of you being up for grabs for the next man.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who helped you put Dream back to bed once he stepped foot in your house. Swaddled, white noise, lights off.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who crept down your stairs and walked until he met you in the kitchen where you were assembling a bowl of ice cream. Who quick dipped a finger in the custard knowing you hated that.

You slapped his hand, “don’t do that shit, y’know I hate that. It’s so gross”

Jermajesty only chuckled and licked at his digit. “You always get so worked up around me, i think it’s funny”

“It’s because you know exactly what buttons to push that makes me want to kill you”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who stood against your island and just observed you. A quiet silence ascended between you two. His heart pounded against his ribs, blood rushing in his ears.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down… you slimmed down some after having Dream but still had the parts of you that got thicker since being pregnant.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who shamelessly checked you out. Your legs that naturally pressed together. Your chest that was comforted by the bra you were wearing and sat up noticeably in your white tank top. Your ass that called out to him in those jeans… almost enticing for him to grab at like he always did. All the parts of you that ran him wild at one point. That still did honestly. Fuck no he wasn’t letting another nigga touch that.

“You’re quiet..” you mumbled, still scooping vanilla bean into the bowl, “what’re you thinkin’ about over there boy?”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who let his body move before his brain could make a proper decision. Who walked right up on you, his lower half flush right against yours. His arms on both sides of you, caging you into him.

“How much I miss you, mama… daddy been thinkin’ about tryna come back home”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who dipped his head into the crook of your neck from behind and began placing wet, open mouth kisses to your skin. One hand of his freed from the counter and slid over your pelvis, wrapping around your lower half to keep you right in him. Still worshiping your neck.

“Y’know we’re not supposed to be doing this, right?” You whispered, eyes closed and trying not to melt right then and there.

“You said that last time”

“And I’m saying it again this time. Shit’s gonna get real confusing, Maj”

“You didn’t seem confused when I had you over this island..” kiss. “‘Jus strokin’ mama real good with my hand over your mouth tryin’ not to wake my daughter up” kiss. “You didn’t seem confused.. in fact, you told me to keep going.. begged me not to stop”

You bit down on your lip to prevent a moan building up in your throat. Jermajesty had a salacious way with his words, sometimes it was enough to work you up.

“Y’know that’s not what I mean by confusing” you breathed out, “we can’t keep doin’ this and we’re not back together… what’s the point?”

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty whose hands pushed your ice cream bowl away from your hands just to fully grab you up in his arms. His hands slithered up to cup your breasts, his mouth still assaulting your neck.

“That don’t matter. I’m still yours and you still mine, ‘m not worried about anything and you shouldn’t be either. No matter how shit went, I was always gonna have you… always gonna have this pussy, y’know that”

Unfortunately you did know that. It was part of the reason why you weren’t stopping him as he began unbuttoning your jeans and dipping a hand past to seek out his heaven on earth.

ꪆৎ baby daddy jermajesty who always, always got what he wanted.

.

.

.

.

ᢉ𐭩 G SPEAKS: this wasn’t as toxic as I wanted it to be but it’s ok, I just gotta write more 😋 and I will! 😋 late night bender? night shift, y’all up???

[brownsugarletters]

Ain't Too Proud To Beg

Michael Jackson x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Mikey is obsessed with reader squirting and ain't too proud to beg. That's the plot.

CONTENT: Filthy smut, descriptive dirty talk, bratty!Michael, sub!Michael, needy!mike, slightly dominant reader, unprotected sex, slight overstimulation, established relationship, girlfriend!reader, era 1977, pre-otw!Mike

Author's Note: My first time really writing subby mike, I hope y'all like it 😝 very lightly proof read sorry for any mistakes 🫣

Late night had settled over the Hayvenhurst estate and rain was pounding against its windows. Inside Michael's room, a candle crackled quietly and burned into a pool of oil while Luther Vandross played quietly from a stereo in the corner of room. Michael had goosebumps up his arms from the contrast of the warm air in the room and the cool breeze flowing through the curtains. He didn't notice though, his focus hadn't left you once.

Under him, you had your legs spread around his hips and the sheets were warm and slightly damp with the evidence of what you and Michael had been up to for the past hour. He rolled his hips slow and deep like he was savoring every little movement. Every time his curious hips prodded at that little spot deep inside you, your tummy jumped hard against his and your walls fluttered around him. When he felt it, a high shaky little sound left his throat.

Soft brown eyes stayed on yours as he bit down on his bottom lip to quiet himself. Michael brushed his lips against your ear and murmured,

“Can you do it for me, baby?” He used that real soft, sweet tone he always did when he really wanted something from you. “The thing where you...squirt." he dropped his voice to a softer octave at the last word as if it was forbidden. "Please. Wanna see it again.”

Instantly, you grew embarrassed and your face went warm.

“Mikey, don’t start.” You moaned against his cheek.

A soft little sound that sounded a lot like a bratty huff left his throat. He cupped your jaw so couldn't turn away. His doe eyes got even bigger, shiny and pleading as his bottom lip pushed out in a subtle pout.

“Please, baby. I’ll be so good for you. I won’t tell anybody. It’s just us.” He kissed your lips sloppily in between sentences while his hips kept moving. "You can trust me" Another whiny, shaky moan slipped out of him when your stomach jumped again, sweat slicking between you two from the heat of his body against yours. “You’re sooo pretty when you cum like that. I love you so much....Please lemme feel it again. I’ll do anything you want me to.”

You reached up and let your fingers trail slow down his abdomen, dragging your nails lightly and sending chills down his spine.

"Anything?"

His tummy clenched hard under your touch and a cracked moan left his lips. His hips stuttered like he’d lost his rhythm completely— which was nearly impossible for Michael Jackson, but that's how infatuated he was with you.

“Don’t— don’t do that,” he whimpered. “It’s too much. Baby, please—”

You already knew what touching him while talking dirty did to him. It always brought him right to the edge, he was such a desperate little lover boy.

“You get so needy when you want somethin' from me,” you murmured. “Look at you. Shakin' just from me touchin’ on you. Throbbin’ inside me like a good boy.”

Michael’s eyes fluttered and another needy whimper left him as his hips jerked without warning. You felt him throb hard inside you, pressure heavy in your belly. He looked almost frustrated about it, like his body was betraying him.

“Don’t say it like that,” he breathed, more pouty now. “You know what it does to me. M'gon cum if you keep talkin’ like that. I can’t hold it when you talk dirty to me. I never can. You’re bein’ mean, baby”

“Maybe I want you to cum for me...and in me”

Then, Michael made the mistake of looking down between your bodies. Your cream was painting the base of his dick like melted ice cream on warm brown skin. Michael fought to keep his eyes from rolling back and soft sounds slipped past his lips as he dropped his forehead against yours, hips still rolling against yours almost frantically. He was so cute when he got like this, flustered and needy.

One of his large hands slipped between your bodies and long fingers found your clit, rubbing slow circles while he prodded gently as your insides, trying to figure out what felt best for you. He held your eye contact consistently the whole time, even as his long lashed fluttered and his eyes threatened to shut from the way you were soaking him.

The next stroke hit that tender bundle of nerves deliberately, like muscle memory. Your tummy jumped hard again and your walls pulsed rhythmically around him. The wet sound of your pussy taking him deep filled the quiet room. Michael’s doe eyes never left yours, even as needy little whimpers left him and his thighs started trembling. His arms were on either side of your head, encasing you possessively as he kept pressing wet kisses to your swollen, pouty lips.

“I know you don’t wanna,” he whispered. He sounded desperate and was almost embarrassed at how needy he sounded, but there was still soft stubbornness under it. “But it feels sooo good when you do cum on me like that. Please lemme feel it. I’ll be so good for you after. I-I promise." his hips stuttered and his voice cracked when you clenched around him like you were trying to take him deeper. "I’ll go real slow… I’ll hold you the whole time… you don’t even have t'look if you don’t wanna. Just this once mama.”

You cupped his face and squeezed gently, pushing his lips into a cute pout.

“You can’t help yourself, huh?” you asked softly, brushing your lips against his as you held his face and kept his fluttering eyes trained on you. “Just beggin' so good for me. Can't even help how needy you sound, can you? You get this look every time you want me to squirt for you. All needy and stubborn at the same time. Look how weak you get for it.”

His whole body shivered and a cracked, soft moan spilled out of him, hips still stuttering slightly and losing their rhythm. You felt another strong throb inside you and his arms were starting to shake where he held himself up. He went still for half a second like he’d heard you, then started the same precise angle again anyway.

“Stop,” he whined. “Please stop talkin’ to me like that. M'serious baby. I’m right there. I can’t— and you’re still not givin’ me what I asked for”

Like he was on a mission, he kept circling your clit gently with your slick and stroking deep against that spot, eyes locked on yours the whole time. Every time your tummy jumped against his he made another soft, desperate sound. When you pulsed around him he whimpered like it was almost too much. His rhythm started to falter and he tried to slow down, hips pulling back just a little like he needed a second. But you locked your legs around his hips and pulled him back in deep.

"Uh-uh. Don't run from me Mikey" you whispered against his lips.

Michael made a high almost scared sound involuntarily, like the pleasure was overstimulating. His forehead dropped against your collar bone before raising again. His big eyes stayed on yours, slightly teary-eyed from the intense pleasure and bottom lip still pushed out just a little.

“You’re’ close, I can feel it mama. Creamin' all over me, and it's gettin' louder. Do it for me. Please baby. I need it. It'll feel so good...I’ll be so good." His hips jerked without permission when you pressed your lips to his throat, tongue flicking against his pulse point. "I-I’ll stay real gentle, I promise. I’ll hold you the whole time. Please. I only get like this for you— and I asked so nice…”

He gently flicked his fingertips across your clit, changing the pace and forcing your legs to close tighter around his waist. He kept the same angle, continuously prodding that sensitive little spot inside you even though his arms were shaking from how overstimulated he felt. He knew exactly what he was doing.

The sensation tipped over and your back arched. A broken cry left your throat as the orgasm hit hard your stomach convulsed against his as a strong stream of wetness pulsed out of you around his dick, soaking both of you and the sheets. Your walls pulsed around him in heavy waves while you shook in his arms.

Michael’s eyes went wide when he looked down between your bodies the second he felt it start, watching the mess flood out around him. A soft shaky moan tore out of his chest and his hips stuttered hard.

“Oh my God—baby, look at you...it’s so much— I can feel it all over me—”

The feeling of you squirting around him pulled him right over the edge. His whole body tensed and his eyes rolled back hard as another higher pitched cracked moan left his throat as he started to cum inside you. It was loud enough that your hand flew up and covered his mouth so no one down the hall would hear. You did not need his brothers teasing y'all tomorrow.

He came hard, grunting and whining shakily against your palm, forehead pressed to yours. His body trembled while he spilled inside you in long pulses, throbbing continuously. The sheets were soaked. He stayed buried deep, dick still pulsing inside you through the last of it as weak spurts left him.

Even after the strongest waves faded he kept making small needy sounds against your hand, oversensitive and shaking, so soft and fucked out that every tiny flutter of your walls made him whimper again as his tummy convulsed.

"I love you so much" he mumbled against your hand, long lashes blinking away tears.

He only got like this for you, and it showed.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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[brownsugarletters]

Poetic Justice

Michael Jackson x Black!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Michael watches poetic justice for the first time and is… surprised by Janet’s language

CONTENT: super sweet fluff, post Dangerous era pre History era, era 1993, suggestive content

Author’s Note: GOT HIM GOIN CRAZY FOR THAT PU NA NA NA NAAAAA (iykyk)

All week, Michael had been talking to anyone who would listen about his baby sister’s new movie. Poetic Justice had just released, and Michael was over the moon about it. It had only been out a short while, but Michael had watched the trailer more times than he would admit.

Finally, the copy he personally requested was delivered to Neverland. Needless to say, Michael waited patiently like a kid on Christmas for you to wake up from your nap so that he could put it on for y’all as soon as you woke up.

“I’m telling you baby, this is Janet’s big break. She’s always wanted to be an actress.”

Michael said to you as he organized a little spread of snacks on the side table. He kept adjusting like everything had to be perfect. You were already curled up in a recliner with a fuzzy blanket, still rubbing sleep from your eyes as you watched him bustle about the room. He’d checked the sound twice and dimmed the lights just enough so he could still see you.

Once he was satisfied, he dropped into the big recliner with you and immediately reached for you, tugging you close beside him. His fingers laced through yours instinctively.

“It’s her first real lead in a film. I wanna see what she does with it.”

You curled into him as he kept talking— babbling, really, about all of the different facets of the film he was excited about. He gestured to the cover of the VHS tape and said,

“And this guy Tupac. He’s really something special too. I saw Juice while I was waiting for this one y’know. Not really my type of film, but he was great. Good music too, he really cares about people.” He nodded to himself as he studied the cover of the VHS.

“You been listening’ to Pac, baby?” You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. When it came to music, Michael did not discriminate. He listened to it all, it was important to him to stay up to date on what the kids were listening to.

Then he looked over at you, making sure you were locked in like he was.

“I know people think I stay in my own world, but I pay attention. I know what’s going on out there. The music, the films, the culture… I see it.” He gave your hand a little squeeze, soft and sure. “This one is special cause it’s my baby sister up there with him. I want her to be great.”

The lights went all the way down and Michael shifted closer, arm settling around your shoulders and thumb already stroking absently along your arm. He was quiet now, focused. Adorning that same concentrated look he always got when something really mattered to him.

On the screen the movie began, and for a while he was completely into it. He happily munched on his popcorn and smiled to himself every time Janet came on screen, nodding a little at certain lines, completely proud and present.

Then the scene came.

Janet looked at Tupac on the big screen and said, clear as day:

“Let’s cut the bullshit. What you really want from me? You wanna smell this punani?”

Michael’s whole body went still next to you. Instantly, he felt his face warm with embarrassment. It happened so quickly you actually felt the temperature change next to you. His head snapped toward you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock like a little boy who just heard someone say a bad word.

“…What did she just say?”

Before you could spare him, he was already grabbing the remote and rewinding it. Next to him, you watched in amusement as you watched the gears turn. He was clearly using his context clues.

“What does that mean?” he asked, voice a little higher than usual. You couldn’t hold it. The laugh came out sharp and full-bellied. Michael stared at you in bewilderment while his baby sister talked about punani ten feet tall on the screen. He felt like he was the only one not in on the joke.

“You never heard that before, Mike?” you managed between laughs.

“No!” He looked genuinely scandalized, tips of his ears surely turning pink. “I’ve never heard my baby sister talk like that. We didn’t talk like that growing up. What is a— what did she call it?”

“Punani.”

He repeated it under his breath and the word rolled off his tongue like the word itself might get him in trouble. He continued staring at you wide eyed as he waited for you to elaborate.

“And that means…?”

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that said you’re kidding me right.

“Mike. You grew up with three sisters. No way you never heard none of this.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t!” He was giggling too now, prodding at your side with one of his long fingers. “C’mon, tell me what it means.” You sat up a little, grinning like this was your time to shine.

Then, you started counting on your fingers.

“Coochie. Coota Cat. Pum-pum. Fat ma. Punani…” You paused, then bounced your eyebrows at him. “Pussy.”

Instantly, Michael made a sound like the air had been knocked out of him and his hands flew up to cover his face.

“Oh my God. Janet Damita Jo Jackson” he whispered to himself.

The teasing didn’t stop once his embarrassment kicked in. You kept going, laughing as you gave him more context. You explained where some of the words came from and how common they were.

Michael still hadn’t taken his hands down. He peeked through his fingers once, eyes wide and shining with pure scandalized curiosity. immediately, he covered his face again when you kept talking. He looked exactly like a little kid who’d just been told the real meaning of a word he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Stop,” he begged, still giggling, still hiding. “Baby, please— I can’t.” His whole face felt hot and and every new detail you gave only made it worse.

“How do you know all of this, girl?” He asked finally, pulling you closer to him by your hips.

“I was raised by Black women. What you thought?” Your voice had the “duh” tone laced all through it.

Michael was giggling but he still looked bewildered by the whole situation.

“How do you know so many different words for… it?”

“I told you. Black women. We got a whole thesaurus.”

After a stretch of silence he finally dropped his hands. His face was still warm, but that little mischievous spark had started to creep back in. He glanced at you sideways, trying— and failing to keep a straight face.

“I love your punani, baby” you smacked his shoulder and erupted into giggles. “Was that it? Did I use it right?”

Leaning in, you pressed soft wet kisses to his lips.

“Yes Mikey, that’s exactly how you use it” when you pulled away you were still squishing his cheeks. He looked at you with big doe eyes, hair falling slightly in his eyes and said,

“Growing up with brothers I thought I’d heard it all. I might have to call my mama…. Ask her if she ever heard of this punani. I need to know if this is something everybody knew but me.” He reflected for a moment then added, “Then ima tell her Janet out here sayin it on a movie screen… she not gon’ believe it.”

“Boy, don’t ask yo mama that! Ms. Katherine would have a heart attack!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

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