Baby Daddy!Jackie who knew you were expecting before you did. He had seen his mother pregnant plenty of times that he knew how to recognize the signs. Your breasts were more tender and you went to the bathroom a lot more than you used to. He was over the moon when you finally started noticing so he could innocently suggest that maybe you should go to the doctor and see what could be the problem.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who indulged every (sane) craving you had. The strangest food one being waffles topped in cottage cheese, pickles and ketchup. For 3 weeks, you would throw a fit if you didn’t have it every night. When it came to the non-food cravings, he put his foot down when you started mentioning pennies to suck on and freshly mowed grass because absolutely not.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who couldn’t wait to tell his brothers you were expecting. Everybody in the family loved you because they thought you were Jackie’s soulmate. Mother Kate even knitted the baby a onesie. Jermaine, Marlon and Michael fought over who would be the baby’s favorite uncle, while Tito sat quietly, knowing it would be him. (It was indeed Tito.)
Baby Daddy!Jackie who attended every single check up and ultrasound appointment when he could. He would be so pissed off when he had to be on the road and you needed to be at an appointment. He made sure one of his sisters went with you when he couldn’t be there. He was so very involved in your pregnancy. He had the appointments tacked to the big calendar in the living room. All of the important milestones were noted as well.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who cried when you found out that you were having a boy and declared you wanted to name the baby after him.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who loved your pregnancy glow. He fell in love with you again every day it seemed like. Sometimes he would sit and stare at you until you had enough and got onto him about it.
“Baby, what’s the deal? I look crazy or something?”
“No, of course not, mama. Why?”
“Your eyes bout out your head and sitting on my shoulder you staring so hard.”
“It’s not my fault you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t help it.” This was how he found his way into some nookie more often than not. You were not immune to his charms.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who was obsessed with your growing belly. He always had his hands on you. He was in love with the way your body transformed while growing a life.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who liked to sing to your belly as you fell asleep every night. A particular favorite of the baby’s was “Darling Dear”.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who gifted you a set of necklaces and earrings with the baby’s birthstones as a push present. You still debated on whether he did that to butter you up to the idea of another baby but you banished the thought immediately.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who let you break every bone in his hand during labor.
“It’s okay baby, just squeeze my hand as tight as you want.” He grimaced.
“Shut up, Sig. I was gonna fuckin’ do that anyway!”
“You are so right. Don’t know what I thought this was,” he conceded.
He didn’t even give it a second thought because he knew that the outcome would be worth it when he got to hold his son for the first time. He would have the memory of cutting the umbilical cord for the rest of his life. He couldn’t believe he had been given a gift so special.
Baby Daddy!Jackie who definitely didn’t plot and plan in the back of his head on how to get you pregnant again soon. He may not have wanted the big family he grew up with but he couldn’t dismiss the appeal of having a house loud with the sound of little feet and laughter. To him, that’s what dreams were made of.
yall got me writing for jackie now omg this is crazy work. there is an explicit version for you nasty heffas don’t worry ;) lmk if yall want more sigmund from me!
Summary: You aim to tease Jermajesty and get his heart racing in tonight’s challenge.
wc: 2.6k
With the challenge being over, Summer storms off with nobody following. She got only a taste of what she deserved.
Some islanders dispatch to go wash the whip cream from their bodies. Others go off to have chats somewhere in the villa.
You stay still for a moment, basking in the satisfaction of pieing Summer. You feel a buzz run from the tips of your fingers down to your toes.
A shadow casts itself over you and you don’t have to turn around to know who it is. So you don’t. Not at first. Not until he speaks, saying your name like it holds so much weight.
“I want to talk to you.” You look away from him, your throat starting to close up. There’s so much to say to him, but you don’t even know where to start. You’re angry about what he did. But even angrier that he believed the lies told against you so easily.
He continues. “But I know you’re still frustrated, so I’ll try again later.” That gets you to look back. His face shows nothing but genuinity. “I’ll keep trying until you tell me to back off.”
Any bits of an annoyed expression of your face are completely wiped off. You’re stunned, mouth dropping open just slightly. You didn’t expect such a mature response from him. Or maybe you did, deep down.
Despite your annoyance to it, you know Jermajesty. With time in the villa with only the ability to have conversations, you reach depths into a person’s essence, understanding who they are as a person.
It’s why it hurts so much that he believed Summer, because he knows you. Or at least you thought he did.
You’re still too hardheaded to speak to him, so you just give a tilt of your head, your mouth set in a line. He gives a small smile, taking it as a win.
You think about talking to him tonight. While you’re one to fully close yourself off in your anger, you know nothing meaningful will come out of it if this goes on much longer.
You and the girls head to the makeup room to put on your outfits for the night. Yet upon entering, you guys find a rack with costumes hanging up.
There are confused murmurs among the group.
A ping rings off from your hip. You pull your phone out. “Girls, choose a costume and quickly dust off your dance moves to get hearts racing for tonight’s Heart Rate challenge.” Your voice gets louder the more you read out of excitement. “#ShowYourStuff #TheHeartWantsWhatItWants.”
The girls all shout, excitedly choosing which outfits you all want to wear.
A thrill runs through your body with an idea. Before talking to Jermajesty, you’ll make him suffer just a little bit more.
You look good. Really, really good. The skin tight, small bodysuit hugs your curves in the best ways possible.
The added ears and tail completed your look. The perfect black cat.
When your eyes fell upon the dark outfit, you chose it immediately. You didn’t want colorful. You wanted dark, sexy.
One by one the girls leave the makeup room to perform until you’re left all alone.
You were the last of the girls to go. Each moment passing, you became more and more eager to see Jermajesty’s reaction to your costume, knowing he can’t have you.
Walking out, there was a mix of the girls shouting and the beginning of a hype song on the speakers. You couldn’t hear any of it. There was a buzzing in your ears as you held eye contact with Jermajesty, sitting in the middle, shifting in his seat.
Each step you gained more and more confidence as his stare never wavered.
Stopping just before the fire pit, you spoke. “Hi boys. Any of you think you can handle this pussy cat?” You gave a light shake of your butt, giving them a preview of what was to come.
Loud whoops from the boys all around. All except one. You made brief eye contact with him before making your way to Noah on the far left.
“Well this night just got even better.” Noah’s cheeky remark sent a laugh throughout the fire pit, others agreeing with him.
You face your back towards Noah, perching on his lap. Reaching down for his hands, you bring them right over your boobs, making them give you a light squeeze.
The boys get louder.
Bringing one of his hands up and placing a finger in your mouth, you suck hard.
And for the entire time, you kept eye contact with Jermajesty.
You could see the tension in his jaw as he watched. It spurred you on even more.
Going to Hiro, two seats over from Jermajesty, you stood up on the bench, feet either side of Hiro and twerked. Right in his face.
You made sure to keep eye contact with Jermajesty, not letting up. Each guy you went to, skipping over him, you made sure to keep your gaze locked on his.
Tempting him. Letting him know that you were still pissed without words. You wanted him frustrated.
Whether it was doing a twerk in a split over someone’s lap, biting someone’s ear, or even rubbing your hands all over a guy’s body, you made sure to pin Jermajesty with your stare.
You could see him getting more and more restless the longer you went on. You couldn’t stop the smirk on your face.
You were starting a game and he was eager to play it.
After you were finished with the last guy, you turned to leave. You wanted to push him to the edge, leaving him hot and bothered and not giving him anything to work with.
But peeking over your shoulder and seeing how angry he is, you want to play with your food just a little bit more. You are a cat after all.
Turning back around, you make your way towards him.
He sits up alert in his seat at the sight of you coming back, leaning forward just a bit.
You push on his chest, making sure his back is pressed directly to the bench.
“You don’t even deserve this.” The annoyance is heavy on your tongue, but he isn’t one to care. Hearing your voice being directed at him after so long without it, he’ll take whatever you give with the utmost appreciation.
You move to mount him, a knee on either side of his lap.
“I seen you’re a fan of this position, yeah?” The sarcasm drips heavily from your words, recalling back to that video you were sent. Remembering how Summer seemed so comfortable on his lap.
He goes to respond, wanting to tell you that the only girl he wants to ever touch him again is you. He’s cut off by your movements, letting out a choked sound instead.
You grind down once.
He moves his hands up to take hold of your hips on instinct, itching to just touch you. But you’re having none of that.
Gripping the slightly outgrown hair on the back of his head, you pull hard, forcing his head to crane backward.
“No Hands. You touch me, I stop.” You speak directly over him, mouth hovering just inches above his. You can feel the pants his mouth lets out, not even trying to hide it. His chest is rising and falling so fast.
His hands slap down to the cushions on the bench with quick speed, gripping the cushions beneath. You give him a hum of approval, tilting your head to the side while staring at his mouth.
You go back to grinding once more, holding the back of his neck with one hand, the other making a show of trailing down your own body from your throat down to your stomach, throwing your head back and letting the moment overtake you, feeling the music.
“F-fuck.”
His voice is deep. He sounds almost as if he’s in physical pain. Your eyes snap back to him at the slip up, his hands twitching at his sides. A knowing smirk overtakes your lips.
You drag your nails down his chest, pausing just above the waistband of his shorts, dipping a finger in slightly to give a scratch before going back up. One hand grips his throat, feeling his quickened pulse, while the other clutches his shoulder, nails digging in.
Leaning into his neck, you bite down hard, just below the jaw and giving a suck. You want to leave a mark, not bothering to be sensual, wanting to instead stake a claim. You feel the shudder that rakes through his body and he leans his head back further to give you better access.
Bringing the grip on his neck up to take hold of his jaw, you raise your head up, but not before giving one lick to the mark you just made.
That’s all he gets and you push his head away with the hold you still had on his jaw. You stand up and leave. Not looking back once.
The guys are all silent.
The girls are louder than ever.
The adrenaline going through your body was unlike anything you’ve ever felt. You can’t hide the smile on your face.
You start to get nervous when it's your turn to sit by the fire pit, your seat in the middle.
The first boy to come out is Sakari who does a funny nerd bit. Next is Trey who wears football padding.
Jermajesty is third.
Your heart is already racing when you see him walking down the stairs.
He’s wearing a camo hat, tiny shorts, and sunglasses shielding his eyes.
You’re annoyed at how good he looks.
He makes his way directly towards you, not even bothering to say a cheeky one liner.
He doesn’t spare a glance at any of the girls he’s walking past. His gaze never strays from your own, walking right up to you.
“I can touch now, yeah?” There’s a slight sarcastic edge in his tone.
You look away with a huff, refusing to give him any sort of response. He’ll have to try harder than that.
The motion of him lowering to his knees is what draws your eyes back. He takes the shades off, looking up at you.
You tried to ignore the increased beating of your heart. Wishing it would go away. You have to stay focused.
Slowly, like he was waiting for you to pull away, he wraps his hand around your right ankle, hefting your leg over his shoulder. Still not allowing his eyes to look anywhere at you, he undoes the strap of your heel before taking it off.
His lips press kisses onto your ankle, sliding down to your toes before he takes some in his mouth.
Your toes. In his mouth.
The breath you take is shaky, and there is nothing else you can do but to watch.
He sucks like he is trying to bestow his worship unto you.
Your chest is rising rapidly now, each inhale quicker than the last.
He peppers kisses onto your skin— up your ankle, your calf, all the way up to your knee before stopping.
His body raises up from the ground, leaning over you and pressing a knee in between your spread thighs, grabbing your hands and bringing them over your head in one of his fists as he looms over you, forcing you to arch your back.
You’re practically in the plants behind you, but he doesn’t care.
The hand not gripping yours lightly traces the side of your face. You can’t help but let out a whimper at that.
His touch is so delicate it makes you want to throw this whole situation away, never to be spoken of again. To reach up and kiss him, tell him everything is okay, no conversation needed.
You’re more stubborn than that.
You force yourself to take a shaky deep breath to calm yourself down, but all that does is give you a whiff of his cologne. And damn does he smell good.
The hand on your face slowly moves down, grazing the side of your neck, tickling the side of your torso all the way to your thigh.
There’s a moment where he pauses before you feel his strong grip on your thigh, using it to spin your position to have your back on the seat cushion now. He’s got your arms still above your head and your thighs on either side of his hips, looming over you.
You don’t know how much more eye contact you can take from him before you snap and do something stupid.
He starts to lower his head, still keeping his gaze on your face until his own is between your thighs.
You have to look up to the sky at that, sending a prayer that you can remain strong. You want him to stay there forever just as much as you want him as far away from you as possible.
When you look back to him, he’s looking down, at your core. You can feel the shaky breath that he exhales through the fabric of your body suit. Your hips twitch at that and you mentally chastise yourself.
He turns his head into your thigh, giving you a kiss there before a quick bite, returning the favor from earlier.
You force your hips to remain still this time, and it takes everything in your power to do so.
Making his way back up your body, he whispers in your ear only to you, “I miss you so much, baby.” Moving his face so it’s right over yours, feeling his chain brush your chin, he says one last thing, staring at your lips. “Come back to me.”
He pulls away after that, but not before bringing his thumb up to your bottom lip, a light brush. You’re frozen, replaying those words in your head.
Repositioning you back upright, he takes a step back, taking you in. You’re trying to control your heavy breathing and flushed face, but you’re failing miserably.
He looks around at the other girls who were watching the whole scene with bated breaths. You had forgotten they were there.
“That’s all I came for.”
He turns and walks away, not giving any other girl a show.
You don’t know what to think.
In fact, you think your brain turned into goo the moment you saw him in that outfit.
“That was the hottest thing I’ve seen.” Mira dramatically fans herself, the other girls nodding their heads in accordance.
“You’re not helping.” You bring your hand up to your heart, feeling the erratic breathing.
Fuck. You already know he’s raced your heart the most. It doesn’t matter who else comes out. Your heart beats the fastest for him.
He makes his way to the top deck, waiting for the next boy to come out. You look up at him leaning over the rail, but he’s already looking at you.
You’re 100% sure he can see just how hot and bothered you are from his vantage point. You’re trying to control your breathing knowing it's a lost cause.
You look away, shaking your head. Dammit. He was good. Really good.
You needed to get yourself under control.
You are barely able to give attention to any boy that comes out after, mind still stuck on Jermajesty. Every time you glance towards the top deck, his eyes are already starting back.
And when it’s time for the islanders to listen to who raced their hearts, you’re not surprised when it’s announced you and Jermajesty raced each others’.
You have nowhere to hide once the challenge is fully over, though you’re not sure you even want to. So when Jermajesty approaches you again to pull you for a chat, there is only one thing you can say.
“Okay.”
a/n: i just wanted to thank you guys for all the support i’ve received over the past couple of days. i’ve always been the reader, never the writer and it makes me so happy that you guys enjoy the stories that i share. so thank you again :)
PLEASE write michael x reader where they’re trying to keep their relationship a secret from everyone and they’re so obvious and cute like holding hands under the table and they js cant stop smiling😭😭😭😭😭😭
Under The Table — Michael Jackson blurb
Being around the Jackson family wasn't for the weak, but somehow you'd managed to handle Michael and his brothers just fine.
You had grown up with them and become especially close to Marlon and Michael, since the three of you were so close in age. The three of you became so inseparable that Katherine and Rebbie started calling you the Three Musketeers.
As you spent more time with the brothers, you realized just how much you and Michael had in common.
Somewhere along the way, your friendship became something more, and one beautiful night beneath the shining moon, the two of you finally confessed your feelings for each other. However, you both decided to wait a while before telling anyone.
"You guys are acting weird," Jermaine said, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. "No, we're not," you and Michael answered at the exact same time.
An awkward silence followed.
"See?" Michael said with an awkward laugh, gesturing between the two of you. "Nothing's going on." Tito looked up from across the table and raised an eyebrow. "That literally proves his point."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying so hard not to laugh.
Keeping your relationship a secret had seemed like a brilliant idea at first. No teasing, no questions, and no drama. The only problem? You and Michael were terrible at pretending.
You were currently holding hands beneath the table, his thumb lazily tracing circles over your knuckles while he carried on a completely normal conversation with Randy about absolutely nothing. Every few seconds, he would give your hand a gentle squeeze, and every single time, you had to fight the smile threatening to give everything away.
"So..." Jackie narrowed his eyes. "Why are you both smiling like that?"
"What smile?" you asked far too quickly, causing Michael to glance over at you for a split second.
That was the mistake.
The second your eyes met, his mouth involuntarily curved into the softest, cutest grin you'd ever seen—the one he reserved only for you. Your own face betrayed you immediately, mirroring his smile before you could stop yourself.
"Oh my god." Marlon pointed at the two of you dramatically. "What?" Michael laughed, trying to play it cool. "You've been making those stupid heart-eyes at each other for, like, twenty minutes. Gross."
"We have not."
Under the table, he intertwined your fingers even tighter, making you kick his ankle. In retaliation, he gave your hand another squeeze—this time a little more playful.
"You two are literally holding hands under the table," Janet giggled.
Both of you froze.
"How do you know that?" you asked. "Because I dropped my earring, and no one noticed when I leaned down to pick it up. I spent, like, two minutes just staring at y'all's hands." She gave you a playful smile.
Michael slowly looked down at your intertwined fingers before Jermaine spoke again.
"So," he said, "how long have you two been dating?"
Michael glanced at you, obviously embarrassed that the two of you had been caught.
"Two months," you both groaned.
"Makes sense." Marlon took a bite of his dessert. "She'd rejected me too many times. I knew she had a boyfriend." Jackie rolled his eyes. "Did it ever cross your mind that maybe she just wasn't into you?" he asked. Marlon looked at him. "Nah."
Michael pressed a soft kiss to your lips. "Mine," he whispered.
During your free time—you and jermaine went shopping or on dates. You were.. a confident and bossy woman, not that he minded, but sometimes you got out of hand with your attitude.
like today, you had been snappy about not being able to purchase the shoes you wanted because they were sold out. Jermaine had been gentle with his words, telling you that he can get them for you next time.
but of course—you had to be an ass about it.
maybee you did it on purpose, maybe you didn’t. Either way, it ended with you over his lap and your lower half bare.
“I want you to count each one, got that?” His palm rubs over your left asscheek and you shiver at the cold feeling of his rings adorning his fingers—bracing yourself for a slap.
“I said, got that?” he repeats, giving a light smack that makes you jump. “Yes.. i got it.” you grit out.
he hums, rubbing your right cheek before striking your left one. You cry out, gripping his thigh. “O-One!” you hiss.
it continues like that, him stalling then smacking, then rubbing the abused skin—just to slap it again.
Eventually, you were reduced to tears, droplets trickling down your cheeks as you squirm from the air brushing against your sensitive skin. you whimper when your legs are pried open slightly.
“You did so good mama, ill make it better, don’t worry.” He murmurs as his fingers delve to the wet area between your legs.
pairing: jermajesty jackson x black fem!reader
summary: a glimpse into casa, part one.
cw: loveisland!au, use of the n word, 4.1k words.
notes: y'all i was trying to fit all of casa into one part, and then realized i literally don't need to do that lmfao so here's part one. and part two will be the final day and a half of casa. i'm trying to be more vague and nondescript with the shit that's happening because i want the full clips to surprise everybodyyy in movie night wink wink
series directory
when you’re finally freed from production and casa officially starts for the girls, you and alexis sit on complete opposite ends of the firepit and pretend one another don’t exist. ariana completes her introductions and brings in twelve new bombshells– telling all of you that you’d gotten double the amount that the villa boys got.
you barely register ariana’s voice as she introduces them one by one, lost in your thoughts. you glance over every so often– names and faces blurring together. you’re not cold; you say ‘hi’ in return and ‘thank you’ when necessary; but your mind is still replaying the clips from earlier in the morning. still hearing jermajesty admit to someone other than you that he’d lied. still thinking about how easy it was for him to disrespect you.
when you glance up again, scanning the line of boys standing in front of the firepit, your eyes catch on something. someone. he looks away when your eyes meet and you mirror him, focusing once again on overthinking your existence on this island.
it turns into a game of eye tag within seconds, your skin pricking and goosebumps rising in the warm summer sun– just for you to look up and catch him staring at you. and every single time a shy smile appears as he breaks eye contact immediately, turning to ariana or to the boys beside him. and every single time you notice something different about him.
deep bronze complexion.
warm, kind eyes.
buzz cut.
one of the tallest in the lineup.
by the time ariana leaves the villa with warm regards and advice–to mingle and be open– the villa is erupting with movement and conversation. you get pulled into a chat with deanna and four boys. maybe it’s the picky side of you, or maybe it’s something completely different, something you don’t for the life of you want to name, but you dissociate the entire time. every comment and question they throw your way goes through one ear and out the other– the same with your replies. you can’t remember even one of their names; nor can you remember an initial.
some time later you find yourself lounging on a beanbag near the pool, sunglasses in place. you’re sure it looks like you're asleep– you hadn't moved an inch from the moment you sat down– but you’re far from it. you watch the villa silently, observing who’s getting along and who sits off to the side like you. which is why you see the exact moment he starts to head your way.
your eyes trace him as he approaches– his steps never slowing or hesitating. he may be shy, from the way he’d been looking away from you in the introductions, but he obviously knew what he wanted. you lift your sunglasses over your hair when he comes to a stop in front of the empty beanbag beside you and asks, “is this spot taken?”
with a mostly fake smile, you shake your head ‘no’ and gesture to it. “it’s all yours, uh…?”
“cairo,” he introduces himself, picking up on your question seamlessly. you mumble back a soft “hi, cairo” as he settles into the beanbag, leaning back to mirror your relaxed posture. his entire body is turned to face you, you take note of it, as a surprisingly comfortable silence falls around you two.
“is it too bold to say i’ve been wanting to talk to you? i was thinking about it the whole boat ride over.” cairo expresses.
“oh, really?” you tilt your head slightly, the way you knew drove jermajesty crazy, a small smile playing at your lips. “and what were you thinking about, exactly?”
“honestly? i was tryna figure out how to come up to you without sounding like every other guy who’s tried already.”
“mmm,” you hum, turning your body to face him fully. pulling your knees up, you start to fidget with your sunglasses– holding the temple tip between your teeth before you continue, “and did you figure it out?”
“nah,” he admits easily, laughing a little. “i’m winging it right now.”
you can’t help the genuine smile that breaks through. “at least you’re honest, cairo.”
“you got a nice smile,” cairo says suddenly, looking down sheepishly after; as if he didn’t mean to say it out loud.
now it’s your turn to look down sheepishly, slightly thrown off by the compliment. much to your annoyance, it makes you feel guilty– like you were cheating, which makes you feel even more annoyed because why couldn’t he feel like that a few days ago? “thank you, you’re really sweet.” and in an attempt to shift the conversation, “so, what made you want to come on love island?”
“ahh, i was over the dating scene back in atlanta. people moving hella weird, playing games, not being real about what they want. figured if imma put myself out there, might as well do it somewhere i can actually see a person’s true colors.”
“and you think you can see that here? might need you to teach me the ways.”
“i think it’s easier to see who people really are when they can’t hide behind their phone and friends and shit.” he leans forwards slightly, squinting like he was reading fine print across your face. “like right now– i can tell you’re not fully sold on me yet. and that’s cool. i’m not expecting you to be, you got a lot going on right now.”
you blink, caught off guard by how direct he was being. “how can you tell that?”
“you’re guarded as hell,” he states, no judgement in his tone. “but i’m not here to rush you or pressure you into anything. i just wanna get to know you. whether we end up being friends or if it turns into something… more, well i’m good with it.”
for the first time since he’d sat down, you feel your mindset shift just slightly– feeling relief from the reassurance that nothing had to be forced. it makes you drop your guard, makes you want to share more and inquire more. “what do you wanna know?”
“alright, this is gonna be the most important question you answer today: what do you miss the most from home?”
you laugh, not expecting that basic of a question. but, you take the time to really think about it; comparing things you have here to things you had back in california, thinking about your day-to-day life. there’s one answer that jumps out at you, circled in flashing lights in your mind. “i’m a foodie at heart so being here has been rough, okay? i miss my sister’s cooking like crazy. she would make this curry goat and call me to get some every time.”
“curry goat?” his eyes light up. “my mom’s jamaican– i grew up on that shit.”
“ohh, so you think you know about it, huh?” you tease.
“i know i know about it.” cairo shoots back, grinning. “matter fact, when we get out of here, imma take you to my moms crib, she’ll cook for you and everything.”
“already planning dates outside the villa? you’re confident.”
“just optimistic. i think there’s something worth exploring here. and if there’s not? then at least we had good conversation by the pool.” he replies easily. there’s a brief pause as you let his words settle over you. he starts again shortly after, “alright, (name), tell me about california. what’s it like down there? besides crazy expensive.”
and just like that, the conversation flows. you tell him about your city, your family, and all of your favorite places. you can’t stop the memory of telling jermajesty about your spots too, and his promise of going there together, from popping up in your head– but you push it aside immediately after, re-focusing when cairo begins to talk about his city. he tells you about his younger sisters and friends. the banter is easy, natural, and you continue to talk until ariana madix walks back into the villa.
jermajesty missed you. a lot.
he’d barely said two words since arriving at the casa amor villa, and he was pretty sure those two words were “i’m jermajesty”. while the other boys were mingling, laughing, getting to know the six bombshell girls, jermajesty had found a corner near the outdoor daybed–identical to the one in the villa that you loved to throw yourself onto– and planted himself there. arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes covered by sunglasses.
in simplest terms, he wasn’t interested.
the bombshells all noticed immediately. and they tried–god, did they try– to pull it out of him, to get him talking, but every attempt fell flat. and i mean, flat.
so they tried again. two of them, a girl named milene and another named sarai, came to sit by him in his isolated corner.
it lasted maybe five minutes before they realized it was pointless.
“so, jermajesty, what do you usually do for fun back home?” sarai asks, leaning in with an overly bright smile. she runs both hands down her hair, and for no reason, because he doesn’t glance at her a single time.
“i don’t know. music mostly.” jermajesty shrugs, sunglasses still on and arms still crossed. “(name) and i been talking about going to this studio back in the city when we get out. she never been in one, but she’s a creative at heart so i think she might love that shit.”
sarai is deadpan, staring at him in disbelief. had he really just said that? “oh. that’s cool.”
“yeahhh, she got good taste in music too. we got three of the same artists in our top five.” it gets him thinking about late night drives with you in the passenger seat, no clear destination. the hint of a sad smile on his lips.
milene tries next. “do you have any tattoos?”
“nah, i been thinking about getting one somewhere on my arm or back,” jermajesty starts.
milene’s smile grows wider, thinking she’d finally gotten his mind away from his situation back at the villa. away from you. “oh really, what would you–”
“i’m more nervous now though. (name) has one on her spine and was tellin’ me how much it hurt. it might not be for me.”
and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose. in fact, he hadn’t even picked up on the fact that he was. within this last week his mind had just done a complete 180.
he’d only watched one season of love island–his dad had forced him prior to coming to fiji— and he’d thought that the couples who only focused on each other were idiotic. weak. faking it. he’d thought the whole point of love island was to explore, to keep your options open, to see what else was out there… at least until you reached a certain day/week in the show.
but now? after following that thought process, pulling the shit he’d pulled, and as he’s sitting in a new villa with six girls rotating through his space, all he could think about was you.
because when you found something real– something that made you feel seen in a way you had never been before, in a way that was past the bright and shiny things that came with your last name– what was the point of looking anywhere else? what could some other girl possibly offer him that would compare to the way you laughed at his jokes, showed the same interest in him that he showed in you, and gave him space to be vulnerable? what would compare to the way you were so sure of yourself, to your magnetic personality?
nothing. the answer was nothing.
he’d been so focused on not being the ‘weak, stupid’ character to someone watching on their couch, so focused on keeping his options open that he’d nearly closed the door on the one thing that actually mattered– on the only girl he wanted.
“maj?” milene waves her hand in front of his face and, despite attempting to hold it back, he physically cringes at the nickname. nose crinkled, lips slightly curled– though he reels it in quickly, because the last thing he wanted to do was hurt an innocent person’s feelings.
“my bad, i don’t really mess with that nickname. you can just call me jermajesty.”
and as milene and sarai glance at each other, coming up with an excuse before walking away from him, they roll their eyes in perfect sync. because prior to them coming in as casa bombshells, they’d watched you call him “maj” and “majy”... and watched him give you the same large and dorky grin every single time.
BEACH HUT (CONFESSIONAL)
“he’s in too fucking deep! he’s literally impossible to talk to.” casa girl one.
“right? i asked him what he likes to cook and somehow i’m hearing about how he wants to learn this recipe that (name) loves.” casa girl number two.
“he’s so closed off. i’ve never seen someone so uninterested in their life. it’s a lil frustrating.” sarai, casa girl number three.
“i think he’s just guarded. like he’s protecting himself, maybe? i think he’ll open up.” casa girl number four.
“girl, he’s not opening up shit. i tried to talk to him earlier and he just looked at the wall behind me and said ‘oh yeah, that’s crazy.’” casa girl number one, again.
“what did you say to him?” milene, casa girl number five.
“bitch, i asked what part of california he’s from.” casa girl number one, again.
they all laugh before casa girl number six ends with, “well i’m not giving up on him just yet. i think he just needs the right person, and maybe that’s me.”
back in the main villa, only six of the twelve casa boys remain– decided unanimously by all of you girls– and ariana has all twelve of you gathered by the firepit. she announces that it’s time to turn up the heat with a little challenge and continues to explain that each casa boy will get to kiss two girls of their choosing. there’s a chorus of ‘oooh’s and some nervous laughter, mostly from the girls. to no ones surprise at all, you have mixed emotions.
once the boys are lined up, ariana calls up the first– one who’d been chatting up asia and sarah all day. he picks both of them and the kisses are quick and playful. nothing too serious. the rest of the villa cheers and whistles, the energy light and fun.
the second boy goes. then the third. for a brief second you wonder if the other villa has done this yet; if they've broken the touch barrier. if someone has gotten to touch jermajesty in this way, again.
the fourth boy calls out yours and deanna’s name and you have to pretend like this isn’t your least favorite part of being on love island. it’s a little awkward, maybe only to you, as he walks over to you and brings his lips to yours.
the kiss is fine. soft, brief, and nothing that makes your stomach flip. you kiss him back, because that’s what you’re supposed to do, and you smile when he pulls away, because that’s what you're supposed to do.
but you find yourself comparing it all to him.
the fifth boy calls alexis and, again, your name– and this time you’re pulled up from the couch and pressed to his body as he delivers the same forgettable and empty kiss as before. if this was jermajesty, your face would've been cradled; his hand would've found a way to caress the skin on your hip. the thought of it makes you yearn for him so suddenly that you find yourself angry. and at no one but yourself.
cairo is the last boy to go.
“i’m picking (name),” he states. his eyes find yours across the fire pit. “just (name).”
is this what you need? for someone else to choose you and only you? did you need to push all of the bullshit to the side and throw caution to the wind?
you have only a split second to decide when cairo reaches you, pulling you up onto your heels for the second time.
fuck it.
“lay down,” you mumble, right before his mouth can meet yours. his breath fans your lips as his lips part in confusion.
“what?” he whispers quickly.
you grab his hand and tug down, hinting at what you want as you verbally direct him once again. “lay down.” he’s flat on his back within seconds and you meet his eyes from where you still stand, giving him a sultry smirk and running a nail along your bottom lip.
and once again, the villa erupts when you join him on the floor, knees caging him between and under you as you lean down, cup his jaw, and kiss him– pouring every emotion into the moment and pushing every thought of jermajesty out.
the challenge, if you could even call it that, ends shortly after and you find yourself lounging in ‘say less’ with cairo– you on your back with your head resting in his lap, and him playing with the ends of your hair. one conversation fades into the next, until the two of you are surrounded by the twinkling of the stars in the night sky.
cairo, after your laughter fades and a comfortable silence fills the space, looks down at you. “...so i know you have a situation back in the villa… jermajesty, right? how has it been going with that?”
you frown, but wipe it away fast, picking at your nails as you feign disinterest. you meet cairo’s eyes. “oh that? yeahhh, it’s dead.”
“really? what happened?”
“you really wanna talk about it?” you eye cairo suspiciously, hoping he says no– because you’d done a great job at not thinking of him for over ten minutes now.
“nah, not gonna lie.”
“good, me neither.” you sigh and close your eyes, urging the pinpricks behind them to disappear. “let's talk about something else.”
“lucky for you, i've been wanting to ask this since we sat down,” he chuckles. when he doesn’t continue you let out a questioning hum, meeting his eyes again. “is anyone in your bed tonight?”
this is necessary, this is necessary, this is necessary, plays on repeat in your mind– allowing the flirtation to seep into your expression, lips curving into a small smile. “yeah,” you say softly.
“really? who?”
“you.”
he meets your smile with a grin of his own, and the two of you stay like that for a while longer before heading inside.
that night, cairo’s arms are wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed against your back, his breath warm and steady against the nape of your neck. he’s comfortable. solid. objectively, there’s nothing wrong with the way he’s holding you.
but your body knows the difference.
it knows the weight of jermajesty’s arm draped over your waist is heavier, more possessive. it knows the way jermajesty pulls you closer in his sleep, like even unconsciously he needs you pressed to him like a second skin. it knows the soft noises he makes in his sleep, the tickle of his curls against your back when his unruly sleeping has the top half of his body in the middle of the bed instead of the top.
the body next to you now isn’t the one you’ve gotten used to sleeping next to for weeks. it’s almost as if you’re in fight or flight the whole night. every time you realize your muscles are tensed, you relax them… just to repeat the process over and over. you have to physically prevent yourself from leaving the bed to go stand outside, near the wall where you can see the other villa lit up miles and miles away.
you close your eyes and will yourself to relax again. will yourself to just fucking sleep.
but you can’t. because every time you start to drift, your mind fills in the gaps: phantom grip against your waist, sleepy and soft snores in your ear, unconscious protests from him whenever you shift even an inch away.
the hours drag deep into the night. you manage maybe an hour of sleep as the sun starts to rise, painting the sky in soft shades of pink and orange.
you hate your life when the shades rise and you’re all woken up to start the day. cairo shifts behind you, his arms sliding away as he stretches. “you up?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep.
“no.” you reply, keeping your eyes closed.
he only laughs as he gets up and leaves the room, heading down to the kitchen. when you’re sure he’s not coming back, you sit up yourself, attempting to shake off the exhaustion clinging to you. you feel like you’re moving through water as you go through your routine in the bathroom and walk to the makeup room, settling into your spot and doing the most half-assed hairstyle possible.
you’re barely halfway through bringing out all your makeup when deanna pops up beside you.
“come outside real quick,” she says, tone leaving no room for argument.
and with no energy left in you, you sigh and follow behind her.
the deck is quiet, morning sun warm against your skin. deanna and elisa settle on the bench and you sit to the right of elisa, sliding your sunglasses on. at this point they were your comfort item.
deanna exhales, long and heavy, leaning back against the wooden railing. “i miss my man so much,” she says, with a sad eye roll. “like… i know it’s only been a day, but i just–” she pauses, shaking her head.
i miss isaac. i miss talking to him. i miss him.”
“have you been talking to any of the boys here?” you ask, bringing your knees to your chest.
“girl, not for real. i’m just going through the motions at this point. casa is not for me, i’m a lover girl and i don’t want to love on any nigga but isaac.”
elisa nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “yeah, i feel you. keem’s been great,” elisa mentions the casa boy she’s been talking to, “but i miss deon’s dumbass.”
you stay quiet, staring out at the water farther out. there’s a burning in your throat that won’t go the fuck away.
“what about you?” elisa asks, turning to look at you. “how’s it been with cairo? that kiss was somethin’ serious.”
you force a smile and swallow, but the burning in your throat stays. “it’s great. he’s really sweet, honestly. a real catch.”
deanna narrows her eyes immediately. “... and jermajesty?”
your stomach swoops. “fuck him,” you say quickly, rolling your eyes purely for show– forgetting your sunglasses covered you anyway. “m’not thinking about him at all…”
but your voice cracks on the word ‘all’ and your next breath hitches. your bottom lip starts to wobble and you press your lips together as you look away from them, blinking rapidly.
but it’s too late.
a tear slips down your cheek, and another follows shortly after.
“oh, baby–” deanna starts, but you shake your head, waving them off and wiping at your face with the back of your hand. elisa and deanna ignore it, already moving to wrap their arms around you, pulling you into a hug so tight it makes your chest ache even more. they give you the space to break.
“i’m try–ing so hard,” you choke out, your voice cracking as the tears start to fall faster. “m’trying but i can’t, i-i can’t stop comparing everything to him. and i’m serious, cairo is so sweet, but it’s not– it’s not maj. and i hate that. and i keep replaying everything in my he-ad, like–” you press a hand to your chest as you try to catch your breath. “we were so good together. everything was so natural with him. i didn't have to think about what to say or how to be, i just was, and he got me.”
you wipe at your face but the tears don’t stop. elisa brings a hand to the back of your head and gently pushes until it rests on her shoulder.
“and it was him,” you continue, your voice raw and shaking. “the second i walked into the villa, it was him. nothing could’ve made my head turn from him at any point, let alone make me dis–disrespect him. it was always gonna be him for me.”
as if your body is trying to push every tear out now, the clips you watched replay in your mind. “he had so many chances to stop, he could’ve pushed her off and told her no. i wasn’t even a tho–ught in his mind. i didn’t matter–”
“shhh,” deanna hushes you as she switches her seat so that you sat in the middle. she wraps her arms around you again and the three of you sit there for what feels like hours– them holding you tighter, letting you cry and break and release everything you’ve been holding in.
hello beautiful people so what if i wrote about our mikey’s gorgeous back being covered in ur scratch marks… and he gets a lil too excited onstage, ripping off his shirt bc he forgot all about what you’d done to him in bed the night before. oopsie now those marks are for everybody to see!!
Why I feel like he was so under appreciated by all of his lovers girl if my man started crying just from the mere sight of the Mona Lisa or Any Painting for that matter I would get on one knee in that fucking moment and propose to HIM bro
⋆◠ ᩧ. ✧ You should have known trying to sunbathe in the backyard with La Toya, Janet, Whitney, and her girlfriend, Robyn would’ve been difficult. Considering the Jackson boys all of a sudden decided they wanted to soak in the sun and be the most annoying versions of themselves. On the left side of you, Marlon had a harmonica which he played the same song over and over again for the past two minutes in your ear with that stupid grin on his face.
To your right, Whitney had been laughing away with her girlfriend Robyn while sharing the lounge chair, sunglasses covering their eyes while they both barely paid anyone attention.
Michael, Tito, Randy, Jermaine, and Jackie had been playing Marco Polo, or at least attempting. Really, it was all of them dunking Jackie underwater and acting innocent right after.
The silence you enjoyed is long gone and the heat is now irritating you. “Marlon leave her alone,” Janet speaks up, only to get a side eye from Marlon. “I’m not doing nothing.” He smirks and looks at you as you glare at him. “You don’t know how to give me five minutes of peace, don’t you?” You mumble and he blows loud into the harmonica.
In quickness you turn your right hand over to the instrument, snatching it out of his mouth and throwing it into the pool, accidentally hitting Randy in the back of his head.
“Egnh!” He whimpers while placing a hand over his head and turns to look at you and Marlon. You both point at each other while blaming one another in unison, as you try to hold in your laughter.
Randy scoffs and looks back at Jermaine and Tito tackling each other, sort of.
“You dumbass.” You whisper as you smack Marlon in the back of his head, he chuckles and walks away from you, eyes on his next target, La Toya.
Your eyes avert back to Michael, a faint smile appearing on your face as you watch him laughing, truly a comforting sight. His eyes glance up to you and his smile widens as he swims over to you. Now, resting his hands on the edge of the pool, ignoring everyone around him.
You get up from the lounge chair and walk over to him in your flip flops, hand over your forehead as you squat down in front of him. Your beauty is the only thing in his vision, all he ever wants anyway. “Hi, handsome.” Your cheeks begin to hurt from smiling and so does Michael’s. “Hey.” He says shyly, hands coming over to your right foot and begin rubbing it, carefully moving up to your ankle.
“You should come in the water, it’s cool.” He whispers, you shake your head and laugh, “Mmh mmh, I was supposed to be chilling and gossiping but y’all found a way to ruin that.” You tease, Michael nods and leans closer, kissing your leg.
“I can make that up to you.” He lets out, his eyes running up your body before finding your face, and bites his bottom lip. You raise a brow and place your hands on your hips, “Oh?” Michael nods and wraps both of his hands on your legs, caressing your skin. “Yeah.” He nods, the two of you chuckle and you shake your head.
“Ew get a room!” Janet yells, Michael and you look over to her and laugh. Turning back to Michael, you grab his face and pretend to kiss him while making noises.
“Just nasty.” Randy shakes his head as he swims by, you laugh and let go of Michael and watch him move away from you.
Walking back over to your seat, you sigh and pause your steps as you see Marlon sitting in your spot, hair soaked from getting splashed with La Toya’s water bottle. “Get up.” You come over to his left side and push him by his arm, “Say the magic word or I’m farting on your towel.” He smiles and looks up at you. Your face contorts in disgust as you smack his shoulder lightly, “I’ll kick you in your nuts if you don’t move in two seconds, how bout that?”
Marlon grumbles and gets up, “Just mean and old and mean.” You hum and sit down, “Remember that, I got sum for you since you wanna be funny.” You reply, Marlon’s eyes widen as he looks back at you. “Wait, hold on, I was joking. Wait relax.” You shake your head and put your shades on, going back to staring at Michael.
Summary: You and Jermajesty go out for a date night after both being busy for the longest time. As romantic as the night is, some (harmless) chaos ensues.
Content: Jermajesty Jackson x fem!reader, established relationship, use of "y/n", pet names, fluffff
A/n: Just something short and sweet. Had fun writing this i thought it was funny
W/c: 1068
Date Night
After what felt like AGES, you and Jermajesty finally find a night you can both take some time to spend together.
You stand in front of your bathroom mirror, adding final touches to your makeup and then your hair. You smile at yourself, satisfied with the way your curls sit on your shoulders and how defined they are.
Jermajesty pops his head in the doorway, smiling as he sees you.
“Wow...” he walks in fully, walking up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. “You look incredible baby I love this dress on you”
You blush as you feel him plant soft kisses on your shoulder. He pulls away and checks his phone. “Alright we gotta go for the reservation. Are you ready?”
“Yesss lets go” you say as you grab your phone and little purse from the bathroom counter.
You both head out to the car, Jermajesty holding the passenger door open for you.
“M’lady” he says with a cheesy grin and awful fake British accent, making you giggle.
After a 20 minute drive of you both singing terribly along with your playlist, his hand on your thigh, you finally pull up to the restaurant.
“Omg you got a reservation for us HERE??” you squeal. This was a pretty exclusive restaurant that not many people can get reservations for due to people always booking it out. You had expressed your interest once casually, not thinking he'd ever actually try to bring you here.
He smiles and kisses your hand. “Anything for my princess” he says softly, his voice dripping with love and sincerity. you smile and kiss him on the cheek, multiple times in a row making him laugh at your excitement.
You both walk into the restaurant, his hand resting on your lower back as the hostess brings you to your both, with a view of the city. You both exchange excited looks as you take a look at the menu, the plethora of choices in front of you making your mouth water. you both decide to get two types of pasta dishes, you choosing a spicy rigatoni and him choosing a classic alfredo.
“oh my goodness look at thissss!!!” you say while admiring your plate of food. “This looks so good, yeo I’m hard” you say excitedly, making him laugh and shake his head. He always loved your sense of humour. After spending an obscene amount of time taking pictures of the food you finally dig in.
he pulls up his phone, hitting the record button and points it at you.
“Thoughts on the food?” he says, holding back a smile. you look up at him. Eyes wide, pasta sauce next to your lip. Your mouth being filled with food stopping you from responding you simply smile and nod, shooting him a thumbs up. He laughs and puts his phone down.
“you’re so cute baby, i’m glad you’re enjoying the food-”
A random woman walking up to your booth with a phone in her hand abruptly interrupts him.
“OH MY GOD IT'S ACTUALLY YOU OMG YOUR JERMAJESTY JACKSON! I FOLLOW YOU ON INSTAGRAM” the woman yells out, causing the rest of the restaurant to suddenly go completely silent. You put your fork down and look over at your boyfriend, seeing the shocked and uncomfortable look on his face.
“Umh yeah…I’m here with my girlfriend so if you could pleas-“
“GIRLFRIEND?” her head snaps at you, and you give her a small smile and wave. She kissed her teeth and rolled her eyes to look back at him, making you raise your brows in disbelief.
“ugh..okay you could do WAY better” she says with an entitled scoff. She steps closer to jermajesty, leaning on the table to talk to him.
“Like me for example…I’m better” she winks and laughs obnoxiously while flipping her hair, making him back away deeper into the booth. He shakes his head and signals for security to take her away. You bite your lip, trying your hardest to not laugh in her face.
That cocky smile leaves her face almost instantly when she realizes his deep disinterest. She rolls her eyes as security pulls her away and out of the restaurant while she curses and yells nonsense. Everyone else in the room resumes with their conversations, quickly getting over the commotion.
You and Jermajesty sit in silence for a few seconds, and as you make eye contact you both start laughing. both holding a hand to your mouths to prevent yourselves from laughing too hard.
“How about we get that bill?” he says as he tries to stop laughing.
“But what about your girl? maybe she wants a quick meal” you say sarcastically while laughing at him. He rolls his eyes and laughs.
“Girl shut upp lets go” he says with an exaggerated sigh.
You guys are in the car now. You are still unable to stop laughing. He turns to you to say something, but then he spots the same girl in the distance walking through the parking lot.
“oh shit shit she’s coming” he puts the car in drive and quickly exits the parking lot, making you laugh harder as you see the girl flip you both off, yelling some bullshit you can barely hear.
“Wow that was fuckin’ crazy” he says while pulling into the driveway and turning off the engine. You can’t help but start laughing again, wiping away the tears that keep falling from laughing too hard.
“Alright, y/n it’s not THAT FUNNY STOP LAUGHING” he says, biting back his own laughter as he nudges your arm”
You take a deep breath, trying to calm down.
“Woo okay okay I'm done laughing now.” you sigh and look over at him. “Thank you for tonight, Jer. The food was incredible, and as always I thoroughly enjoyed your company. I love you baby” you say with a loving smile while holding his hand. He smiles back and pulls you in for a sweet and tender kiss, gently holding you by your neck.
“I love you too, babe” he bites his lip and smirks while looking into your eyes. Then you see that look in his eyes.
“Now, let’s get inside so I can get some dessert.” he winks. As you exit the car he picks you up over his shoulder, walks inside closing the door behind him with his foot. Date night was a success.
Here it was, the big night of the century in Mississippi —the Juke Joint, hosted by..The Jacksons. All this dancing and drinking had you a bit loose, and this was your third bathroom break of the night. Crazy right?
Jackie, whose job was to guard the door, chewing on a toothpick, stared at you walking up to the door. Your kitten heels were clacking as you got closer to him. He eyed you up and down before he stood up in front of the door.
"Yo, where you think you goin'? Once again?" Jackie came close to you, inhaling the whiskey on your warm breath as he tilted his head. You rolled your eyes at him and attempted to push him out of the way, but he barely budged.
"Move, I gotta go pee," you whined, dragging your hand down his suit. Jackie followed your hand with his eyes as it dragged against him, looking a bit jocular. "Make it quick—I'm not bout' to keep watching over you, woman," You laughed a bit at his response before you slid passed him.
"Mmm, ya bet," you said, with your finger still lingering against Jackie's chest as you smiled back at him. He knew you were a bit tipsy, so he would watch you walk away from the club, swaying your hips in your silky dress.
Staring back at him as you slowly disappeared into the dark by the bushes.
"This girl, man," Jackie shook his head as he laughed when he sat back down on his stool.
You ducked down by a bush, pulling up your dress and squatting.
A soft breeze brushing against your face from the winds, releasing some pressure from how long you’ve been holding this in.
Bushes behind you sounded like they were being moved and someone was trying to fight through him.
Whispers felt like they were close, directly in your ear, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise,” the mysterious voice cooed.
“what?—hello?” you answered back, trying to keep quiet but at the same time freaking out.
Music and stomping feet filled the club with so much joy, as everyone danced, sweat dripping down the sides of their foreheads and hair sweating out. And the sweet smell of whiskeys and beers—roamed the musky air like a thick fog settling over a swamp.
Marlon, who was smoking a cig with his close one in age—Michael.
They both leaned against a wooden pillar, watching over the party while Tito watched from upstairs, also eyeing a couple fine ladies.
“Where’d miss..tootsie go?” Marlon asked with his tongue in his cheek to hide a smile, nudging on Michael’s right arm .
“She been drinkin’ since she got hea, I don’t know,” Michael acknowledged as he shrugged. “You don’t care?” Marlon crossed his arms when he leaned his head more forward to get a better look at Michael underneath his hat.
“Nah, I care—m’just tryna watch over my people,” Michael removed the cigarette from his lips as he slowly turned his head towards his brother with a smirk. Marlon just smiled and nodded and glanced elsewhere towards the crowd who was humming along to the music and instruments on stage.
As Marlon got a fair glance over at what was happen before him, he turned back towards Michael—as when he thought that Michael was still standing here. He was gone, leaving behind a hint of his signature scent.
“Michael..?” Marlon called out, looking behind the pillar.
Your bathroom break was finally over, you felt yourself walking more straighter than usual, and with more of a—strut.
Jackie’s head shot up once he heard footsteps become more prominent by the second; his leg stretched across the entrance as his head was rested against the wooden wall.
“Oh, hey! You’re back.” Jackie announced. He could see a hunger in your eyes, but couldn’t quite make it out. Your hands were elegantly resting in front of you as you stared at Jackie, his neck, and then back at his eyes.
“You’re gonna let me in—or are you gonna keep your leg right there?” You said with your head tilted, teasingly. “Yes ma’am, my apologizes.” He immediately moved his leg and put his hands up in surrender. “That’s what I thought,” you snapped back underneath your breath as you cat-walked passed him.
A laugh was being heard from the bar as you peeked around to see who it was. The gentlemen, Michael jackson, who was known for his wonderful vocals and sweet spirit.
You stopped in your tracks as you gave yourself the time to remember his figure. Brown suit, brown slacks, and of course his shoes, can’t forget the shoes. His white socks with red and brown leather shoes. Your breath hitched a bit, you met him before—but the more you were around him, the way you could smell him from here, turned you on even more.
Confidence was taking over your body as you walked towards him, adjusting your hair in the process. “Michael?” You cooed. Michael slowly turned around at his name being questioned by such a doting voice, and there you were, glistening under the warm tone of the lights. “Mm, well hello,” Michael couldn’t hold back the smirk that was fighting to be expressed.
“Hi, whatcha drinkin’?” You said as you settled yourself down on the stool next to him, staring at the details of the deep arch in his hat being shown from the light.
“Oh, this isn’t mines, I’m watchin’ someone’s drink. You?” He now turned his body to fully face you, taking in the view. You were a bit dazed at how badly you were craving him right now, even the thought of him between your teeth was enough to arouse you.
“I’ve had enough for the night,” you joked around with a little giggle as you glided your hand down in his thigh.
Michael was the easiest Jackson out of the five that was there, and additionally you wanted him badly and knew a way with your words—so this wouldn’t be a difficult task.
“Can I just-” You reached over for the glass. Slowly pushing up against Michael as you stretched across him. “Wait,” he grabbed onto your wrist as his fingers brushed against your jewelry. You turned your head, moving the hair out of your face while now staring deadly into his eyes. That look gave you meant business and you wanted it handled now.
He immediately removed his hand off your wrist and you continued moving the drink away from his, handing it to the lady who was helping with drinks. “Thank you..” you said holding eye contact with her and then back at Michael, who looked amused at your seriousness and who clearly found your lips amusing too.
You went in for it, back arching in his lap, kissing him on his lips, letting a soft moan escape him. He pulled back, now giving both of your eyes their undivided attention as a smirk slowly formed on his face. Your finger trailed against his jawline, stroking it until your finger got to his chin and then hovered over his lip.
The way this feeling was taking over your body was crazy, Michael could feel himself growing at the way you touched him so softly and how you stared at him with such hunger.
He got up from his stool, still looking a bit dazed, and offered your hand. You immediately took the invite and followed him into a room with shelves and a rug.
You locked the door behind you smirking, and then dropped it once you turned around to him, once you got him alone—finally.
Michael watched you as you locked the door, taking off his suit jacket. “Y’know I love you, right?” you asked as you took off your heels while walking towards him. Michael raised an eyebrow, confused on how you have such a strong feeling when you two just met. “I just wanna—touch you, taste you, in all kinds of ways, Mikey..” you caressed the back of his neck as you whispered into his ear, licking and nibbling at it.
The way your voice sounded, so starved, but yet demanding—sent chills down his spine. “M-me too,” his breath hitched, as he has never been around a woman such as you, with this much tenderness but control. You laughed at how pussy whipped you had him and you haven’t even put anything on him yet, but the submissive actions coming from him caused an aching sensation between your legs.
You moaned at the way he folded so quickly. “Lay,” you demanded, pointing towards the floor. He took off his hat and sat it next to his jacket that was laying next to him. He watched you lower down on his crotch as his lip was caught in his teeth.
Soon as you lowered down on him, his hands flew to grasp onto your waist. His finger tips dug into the plush of your hips and then slowly gravitated to your ass. You could feel your mouth getting watery as drool slowly escapes your mouth when you stared at his abdomen and on his lips. “Mama, you droolin’,” he stared at the drool that was connected to your lips.
“Y’wanna taste?” You cooed as you got closer to his face. He nodded and collected the drool on his fingers, stuffing them in your mouth.
Tito and Marlon were scoping the party, keeping an eye on people, trying to make sure nothing bad was happening. Then there it was—the trouble. Two men were fighting over a game, and one stole the other man's knife.
"HEY—cut that out!" Tito yelled, and the whole room went silent. The two men froze and immediately backed off from each other. "Oh, so y'all fighting in our establishment?" Marlon and Tito both grabbed for their guns, and they looked around to see how much of a mess the men had made.
"No, sir," one man said, scared and shaking his head while being out of breath. "So, the fuck is y'all doin'?" Marlon cursed, furrowing his eyebrows. They both looked at each other before they both spoke.
"He stole my knife!" "He tried stabbing me for being a punk ass bitch!" The men argued. Tito tilted his head as he tried to listen to both while tucking his lips. "Get the knife from em," Tito ordered Marlon. The man who held the knife held it up like he was trying to fight Marlon for attempting to grab it from him.
"Try it, and I'll shoot ya'," Tito announced as he held the gun up to get ready to shoot fire. Marlon tripped him as he pulled off his leg trip takedown, and instantly grabbed the knife for him. "Keep trying me, and y'all asses gon' be kicked out," Marlon said as he backed up with the knife and shoved it in his pocket. "You'll get this back once you leave," Tito added.
“Have y'all seen Michael?” Randy interrupted. Marlon turned his neck quickly. “he’s been gone for twenty minutes,” Randy adds on, looking around. “Oh my goodness, move, boy.” Marlon snapped back and Tito followed behind him.
They walked around the place, separating while their hands were on their gun for easy access. Randy who was by the room that you and Michael were in heard a noise. You didn’t mind being loud since music was blasting through the place and no one was worried about that part of the club.
Pornographic moans were leaving your mouth as you bounced on his dick, as he was constantly kissing your cervix like no other. “Oh, fuck—” you panted, groping onto one of your boobs. Michael went in for a kiss to muffle both of your whimpers as he bucked his hips into you to chase his climax.
“Y’feel—so so good,” Michael whined as he pulled away from the kiss. You were getting closer alongside him and couldn’t help yourself—he was now in a very vulnerable place and you took this as a chance to scan his neck and Adam’s apple fully when he threw his head back.
As your fingers moved his head to the side to let you get a good look at his neck, his prominent and juicy veins showed through his neck. Your fangs fuller form as you mouth was now salivating more than usual, you licked the spot you were targeting to bite and numbed it. “Mikeyyy” was the last thing he heard, as you cooed, the way you said it still buzzing through his ear.
“Michael!?” Randy banged on the door using his two fists. All he heard was soft cries and whimpering—of pain or pure ecstasy?
“Aah!” Came out of Michael’s mouth as his fingers dug deep into your waist, attempting to pull you off.
“Marlon! Tito!” Randy yelled for his brothers as they came rushing to the scene. “He's in there,” Randy pointed to the door and backed up. “Michael! Open the damn door!” Tito ordered as he fully pulled his gun out of his pants and put it to the side of him.
No answer.
“Michael!” Marlon yelled for him.
No. Answer.
They all attempted to break down the door as it started to bend inward.
You stopped riding him as you nibbled at his neck as he slowly began to lose blood. Blood was staining your fangs, dripping now onto your chin, your collarbone, and then onto your dark brown dress.
The door finally caved in as the three men stared at your back as they slowly approached. Your eyes were glowing with a red tint as you wiped your mouth with the back of your hands, silk press all messy and covered with blood across your face. Your chest was heaving from the adrenaline of sucking and eating away at Michael.
You rose to your feet, giving his brother a full view of his body. He was back dressed but was holding his neck as he tried to say something. “What the fuck?” Marlon snapped, as he raised his gun and released fire directly at you. You ran out of the room screaming, hauling ass outside.
“They’re coming!” You yelled as you ran out.
Marlon ran to Michael, immediately falling to his knees. “Michael!” Marlon cried out as he picked Michael’s head up into his lap, trying to apply pressure to his neck. “M-Marlon—she- she-,” Michael tried to say but started choking on his blood.
All of them were on the ground next to him watching him take his last breath. Their eyes widen as Michael went limp, Jackie looked more confused than hurt. His eyebrows furrowed as he was deep in thought still with his brother’s blood on his hands.
“She bit him! That soul-sucking ass bitch was a vampire!” Jackie yelled out as he stared at the spot you bit him in.
“Lets go—let's go, now!” Jackie ordered, gathering all his brothers and leaving the room. But Marlon still couldn't register that his brother was really gone, right in front of him. “Marlon, please.” Jackie came back to grab Marlon by his arm as he was fighting back his second round of tears.
“Someone lock the door before he turns!” Randy insisted. Tito locked the door with a key and slowly backed up.
“What should we do?” Randy asked as he started to shake. They all looked at each other, dumbfounded, not sure what to do. “Maybe—grab some garlic or sum’?” Marlon asked.
As soon as Tito went to grab some garlic from the bar, there was a knock on the door—the room where Michael was pronounced dead.
Everyone froze as they looked toward the door, and they heard a soft but heavy voice come from behind the door. Tito put his head to the door to make sure he wasn't going crazy.
Then a big knife came through the wooden door and was instantly pulled back. Tito gasped as his back met the wooden wall behind him, in shock. “Marlon!” a voice called for Marlon. He took a deep breath and got his gun ready as he approached the door.
“Michael? That’s you?” Marlon asked as his voice shook as he peeped through the hole that was made from Michael’s knife.
“Who else would it be? Now let me out.” The voice sounded just like Michael, his brother could see his smile, nice and clean, through the hole. That little mustache of his was sitting pretty on top of his top lip as his fangs started to show.
Marlon looked back at his brother before he said anything else.
“T-that ain’t Michael, Marlon.” Jermaine stuttered as his chest started to heave.
“Oh my goodness,” Jackie immediately broke down in tears once again.
“You doin’ alright?” Marlon turned back towards the door while still peeking into the hole.
“Yeah, I’m alright. Now let me out, please,” Michael said as he went to pick up his hat.
“Y’sure? You lost a lotta blood..” Marlon questioned.
Michael grew angrier as more questions were being asked, and he wasn’t being let out. “Stop asking me all these questions and let me out, man.” Michael began banging on the door.
He began pushing the door with his shoulder, hard and using all his strength. "Michael, stop!" Tito yelled out of fear.
The room went silent as the bangs echoed off the walls.
Then there Michael was, built up all his vampire strength, backing up from the door, and he came busting through.
And he ran out of the club into the complete darkness as his brothers watched him disappear.
･ ꫂ᭪݁ ⋮ AUTHORS NOTE: If you saw my last post where I talked abt drunk Michael being a mess of cake for his bday party then just know I WAS NOT KIDDING. Heres my once a month smut post :) ENJOYYYYYUHHH and COMMENT THIS IS ONLY MY SECOND TIME WRITING FULL SMUT. (kinda proof-read i got lazy halfway through who writes 6k words n actually proofreads not me.)
･ ꫂ᭪݁ ⋮ SUMMARY/CW: Michael decides YOU’RE his birthday gift/cake. w.c: 5.9k (ik alot of words but worth it) fem!reader , implied black reader but any1 can read includes: drunk michael, food play (icing licking), lots of spit swapping and making out, dry humping, michaels an eater guys, switch!michael, needy michael appearance, ass slapping, hair pulling, FOOT KINK GUYS MICHAEL LOVES YOUR MANICURED FEET. I REPEAT FOOT KINK, strong usage of language, voyurism (public-ish sex), blowjobs , lmk if I forgot anything I beg.
Michael had been waiting for this party for months. Not because he wanted to show off or because he loved being the center of attention, though he'd never admit that part out loud.
He wanted to celebrate with everyone close to him. His family. His staff. His fans, the ones who'd stuck by him through everything. And last but not least, his wife. You.
The venue was packed. Lights flashed across the crowd, music thumped through the speakers, and everywhere you looked, someone was laughing or dancing or holding up a drink in Michael's direction.
He moved through the crowd like he belonged there, shaking hands, pulling people into quick hugs, grinning that smile that made cameras flash a little brighter and quicker.
You watched from a table near the stage a drink in your own hand, smile tugging at your lips. He caught your eye across the room and winked. You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
He made his way over eventually, sliding into the seat beside you, his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the crowd and the drink in his hand. "Enjoyin' yourself Tink?" he asked, his voice warm.
"I'm watching you make a fool of yourself. It's entertaining" He laughed, bumping his shoulder against yours. "It's my birthday. I'm allowed."
"You're also a lightweight. Be careful with that." He waved a dismissive hand, already tipsy, his words slurring just slightly at the edges. "I got it under control."
You raised an eyebrow knowing he was lying, but you weren't going to ruin this for him by worrying. "Sure you do." He downed the rest of his drink and flashed you a grin. "Watch me." You watched him.
An hour later, he was on stage.
Someone had dragged him up there, handed him a microphone, and left him to address the crowd. The lights were bright, the music had lowered, and Michael stood swaying noticeably, one hand gripping the mic while the other gestured loosely at nothing in particular. His feet kept shifting like he was trying to find his balance and failing.
"So -" he began, his voice echoing through the speakers, slow and syrupy. "Wait, where they takin' my cake?" The crowd laughed. You pressed a hand to your mouth, already laughing and trying to cover it horribly.
Someone from the side called out, "It's right there, Mike!"
He looked down, blinking slowly at the massive cake sitting on a table on the stage. His name written across the bottom in sparkling letters.
He stared at it for a long moment. His head tilted. Then straightened. Then tilted again like he was tryin' to see it from a different angle. "...Oh."
The crowd erupted. You shook your head, still laughing at him. He was making a fool of himself. He squinted at the cake. "Is that... is that my name?" "Yes Michael!" someone from the crowd shouted.
He nodded slowly, processing. "Yeah. Yeah, that's my name. I remember." Someone in the crowd howled with laughter. The DJ played a sound effect, a record scratch before cutting it off.
Michael grinned, pleased with himself, and stumbled across stage toward the cake. He moved with the careful deliberation of someone who knew they were drunk but was determined not to show it. It was actually working surprisingly.
He stood in front of the cake, studying it. He leaned in close, then straightened, then leaned in again. You’d got the cake personally made for him as a surprise so he hadn’t seen it at all before this.
"You okay over there?" you called. He turned to you, eyes glassy and warm. "I'm admirin'." "Admire faster. People wanna eat it, I wanna eat it." He waved a dismissive hand. "They can wait."
Then without warning, he stuck his finger into the icing. Pulling it out, he examined the white frosting and brought it to his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he licked it clean.
"They did good," he mumbled to himself. "Real good."
Then he noticed you sitting nearby, and a slow drunken grin spread across his face. He lowered his hand, holding his finger out in front of you, still glistening with the remnants of the icing and his spit.
He looked down at you through fogged, dark eyes, expectant. Waiting. His head swayed slightly as he tried to keep still. The DJ, who'd been providing commentary all night, leaned into his mic. "Ohhh, he wants you to taste it!"
The crowd hooted. You felt heat creep up your neck, but you didn't look away from him.
You stood slowly, smoothing your outfit down before stepping toward him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist gently, guiding his hand closer to your face.
You held his gaze. Then you parted your lips and wrapped them around his finger. Your tongue swirled against the icing, slow and deliberate, licking every bit of sweetness off his skin.
His breath hitched. Eyes staying locked on yours hazy and dark, his lips parted slightly. A soft, barely audible sound escaped his throat. You pulled back with a soft pop, still holding his gaze for just a second longer.
Then you turned toward the crowd, putting both thumbs up and nodding emphatically. "It's good!" The crowd cheered. The DJ laughed, and you swore someone wolf whistled.
Behind you, Michael stood frozen, his face burned pink. He ducked his head, letting out a breathy little laugh into the mic, and shifted on his feet.
He adjusted his jeans. Subtly. Or at least, he thought it was subtle. His hand tugged at the waistband, pulling the fabric away from his body, hoping to hide what was becoming very obvious. He glanced down at himself, then quickly looked away, his blush deepening.
He barely noticed you sneaking up to him. Before anyone could react, you reached forward and grabbed a huge handful of the ice cream cake holding it up. The crowd, sensing what was coming began to chant.
"Food fight! Food fight! Food fight!" You grinned. And then you smashed it right into Michael's face. He stumbled back, sputtering as the cold cake dripped down his cheeks, his nose, his chin. For a second, he just stood there blinking through the mess.
Then he laughed. loud and bright, echoing through the venue as he wiped at his face only succeeding in smearing the cake further across his skin. His hands were a mess now, sticky and covered in icing, and he wiped them down his shirt without a second thought.
"Happy birthday!" you called out, laughing. He was still laughing drunkly at that and still wiping at his face, when you stepped forward again. Before he could react, you cupped his sticky cheeks in your hands and pulled him into a kiss.
The crowd erupted.
It was sweet, messy, and tasting of ice cream and icing and him. His hands still sticky found your waist, pulling you closer despite the chaos. He let out a soft, muffled sound against your lips, something between surprise and contentment, and kissed you back like he'd forgotten anyone else was watching.
When you finally pulled back, you clapped your hands together and smiled bright. "Happy birthday, baby." He stared at you, face covered in cake, eyes soft and dazed and so full of love it made his chest ache.
He blinked slowly, like he was trying to process what just happened. "...Best birthday kiss ever." He tugged at his jeans again, adjusting himself nd hoping the cake was enough of a distraction.
It wasn't. But he'd deal with that later. Michael didn't stay long after that. He was a mess of cake and icing, sticky from head to toe, his shirt ruined and his jeans smeared with white frosting. He thanked everyone he passed, shook hands, hugged a few fans who'd gotten close enough, and made sure to blow a kiss toward the crowd before he let you guide him toward the exit.
"Thank you," he slurred, waving lazily at the people still chanting his name. "Thank you all. Love you. Love you guys."
You smiled, your arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he stumbled toward the waiting limo. The door opened, and you helped him inside, sliding in after him as the door closed and muffled the noise of the party.
The moment the door shut, he was on you. Not in a rush. His body turned toward yours, his hand finding your thigh almost immediately, his face buried in your neck.
"You're so pretty." he mumbled against your skin. "So, so pretty. Did I tell you that already?" "A few times tonight, yeah." "I mean it." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "So pretty. Best wife ever. Best birthday ever."
You laughed, your hands coming up to wipe at the cake still clinging to his cheek. "You're a mess, handsome." "A very happy mess." He caught your wrist, kissing your palm. "'S your fault. You started it."
"You started it with the finger thing." You played the memory back in your head. He grinned, all teeth and dimples. "Worth it." You shook your head, still laughing and reached for a napkin from the mini bar to try and clean him up. He let you for about two seconds before his hand wrapped around your ankle.
He tugged. You let out a surprised laugh as he pulled you across the seat, your back sliding against the leather until you were in front of him. He didn't stop there. He shifted his knees finding the seat cushion as he turned to face you properly, moving until he was on his knees in front of you.
"Michael, what are you doin’" He didn't answer. He just reached down and pulled your heels off, one by one dropping them onto the floor of the limo without a second glance.
Then his hands wrapped around your foot, holding it like it was something precious. "Mikey." "Hold on." He pressed a kiss to the top of your foot, sloppy and warm. "Just..hold on."
You giggled, trying to pull your foot back. "You look ridiculous. Let me clean you up." He shook his head, still holdin' your foot. "No." "Michael."
"No." He looked up at you through his lashes, his eyes glassy and dark, and reached for your hand. He guided it down, pressing your palm flat against the obvious bulge in his jeans. "See what you did earlier, pretty? Hm? You gonna take accountability?"
Your breath caught. "Michael, we're still in public." "So?" "The driver can hear us." He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in that drunk petulant way that made him look younger. "'S my birthday."
"I know, baby." "You said I could have whatever I wanted." You raised an eyebrow. "I said you could have whatever cake you wanted." He blinked, processing then shook his head. "Same thing."
"It's not the same thing." He frowned, his hand sliding up your thigh, slow and deliberate. "Would be a good birthday gift."
"Michael." "I'm not asking for much." His fingers traced circles on your skin. "Just you. Just a little bit of you."
You glanced out the tinted window. Police motorcycles trailed the limo. You could see the outline of the driver's head through the partition, focused on the road ahead.
"There are police outside, Mikey." He followed your gaze, then looked back at you, his pout deepenin'. "They can't see through the windows." "That's not the point."
"It could be." He tilted his head, his hand squeezing your thigh gently. "Please? For my birthday?" You stared at him. Drunk, messy, pouty, beautiful and very convincing and sighed because you were being convinced.
Michael's whole face lit up when you agreed.
His eyes went wide his lips spread into a grin, and he let out a little giggle. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and there was still a smear of icing on his chin that he hadn't bothered to wipe off.
"Yeah?" "Yeah, don’t make me take it back." He didn't waste a second. His hands found your ankle, tugging you forward until you were in front of him fully. You could feel the cake beneath you, cold and sticky against your thighs through your outfit, but he didn't seem to care. He just pulled you closer, his face dropping to press a kiss against the top of your foot.
"Pretty," he murmured against your skin. His lips dragged down slowly from your ankle up to your knee, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses. He paused at your shin, turning his head to press his cheek against your leg, looking up at you with those glassy eyes. "Look at these nails, mama. French tipped? On your toes? 'S so sexy."
You laughed, trying to pull your foot back. "You're crazy." "Mhm." He nodded, not bothering to deny it. "M’ crazy for you."
He held your foot in both hands now, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your arch. He brought your toes to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the tips, then another ,then another, working his way across each one like he was memorizing them. His eyes fluttered shut a little hum escaping his throat.
"Been thinkin' 'bout these all night," he admitted, his voice low and slurred. "When you had 'em out in them open-toed heels. Couldn't concentrate on nothin' else."
You felt your face warm. "You were lookin' at my feet during your own party?" "Was lookin' at all of you." He pressed another kiss to your ankle, then your calf. "'S not my fault you're beautiful everywhere."
He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your thighs pressing against his hips. His hands settled on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your outfit as another giggle fell from his lips.
"'M gonna be quiet," he promised, nodding seriously. "Real quiet. Promise." He said it with such intensity that you almost believed him. He was lying. The second your lips met his, he let out a moan that was definitely not quiet.
It rumbled from his chest deep and needy, vibrating against your mouth. His tongue slid against yours immediately, messy and warm and tasting faintly of the drink he'd been drinking earlier. His hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as if he couldn't get enough.
You could feel him through his jeans, hard and heavy, pressed right against your core. You rolled your hips experimentally, and he whined into your mouth. "Yeah- fuck— yeah, just like that Tinka.."
His hands found the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing up slowly, searching. When he reached the damp fabric of your panties, he smiled against your lips.
"Someone's excited," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His fingers pressed lightly against the wet spot, rubbing slow circles through the fabric. "That for me, mama? All that juice f'me?"
Your hips stuttered but you didn't stop moving against him. The friction of his belt against your panties sent little sparks through your core, and you rolled your hips harder chasing the sensation.
"Keep goin'," he breathed, his head falling back against the seat. His eyes fluttered open, looking up at you through heavy lids. "Don't stop. 'S my birthday, 'n I want you to ride me."
"Your outfit's getting ruined." You noted, the outfit was worth quite a lot. It was quite literally sparkling. He let out a breathy laugh, his chest rising and falling. "Don't care. 'S worth it. Got money f'more outfits but I only got one of you."
You kept moving grinding down against his belt and the bulge beneath it. His hand slid down to palm your ass, squeezing once before patting it gently. "That's it. Use me, mama. 'S your fault f'being so pretty."
He reached up, his hand sliding behind your neck and guiding your lips back to his, swallowing the moan that escaped you as he bit down gently on your bottom lip. You ground down harder, chasing that friction, and he groaned into your mouth.
"'M not gonna last long," he warned, his voice breaking. "You feel too good." "Then don't hold back." you whispered against his lips.
His hips bucked up to meet yours, and you both moaned. Michael pulled you closer as if he wanted to consume you all at once.
He lifted his head, gazing up at you with those lidded eyes. A smile spread across his lips, slow and drunk and full of love. "'S my best birthday yet."
Michael was close. You could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, in the way his breath came in shorter, hotter pants against your mouth.
"So close, tinka," he whimpered, his forehead pressing against yours. His hands were griping your hips, fingers diggin' into your outfit like he was trying to hold on. "Not gonna last with 'y on my lap. It’s too good."
You hummed against his lips, slowing your movements just slightly. He whined in protest, his hips chasin' yours. "Don't stop! Please —"
You stopped anyway. He blinked, his glassy eyes focusing on your face with slow, confused realization.
His bottom lip jutted out, pushin' forward in a pout that made him look like a hurt deer. "That was mean," he mumbled, his voice slurred and wounded. "Why'd you stop? 'M your husband. It’s my birthday. You're bein' mean."
You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm bein' mean?" "Yes." He nodded emphatically, his pout deepening. "Very mean. Meanest wife ever."
You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Stay right there." Before he could protest again, you slipped off his lap and sank to your knees on the floor of the limo. The carpet was soft beneath you.
He looked down at you, his brows furrowed for a second before you reached for the zipper of his pants. He got it immediately. His legs fell open, manspreading to make room for you between his thighs.
He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as you pulled his cock out, already hard and leaking, the tip slick with precum. He let out a shuddering breath as your fingers wrapped around him. "Manicured nails." he breathed, watching your french tips wrap around his length. "Look so pretty wrapped 'round me. 'S not fair."
You smiled up at him, then opened your mouth and took him in. His head fell back against the seat, a loud moan tearing from his throat. His hand flew to your hair, tugging slightly. "Fuck— Tinka…"
He was already close, his hips twitching as you moved your head, taking him deeper. His breath came in ragged pants, his chest heaving, his grip tightened in your hair.
"Please," he whimpered. "Please— m'close—'m gonna—“ You pulled off just enough to look up at him, your lips still brushing his tip, your hand still stroking him slowly. "Then let go," you said softly. "Don't hold back, handsome. You've been so good all night."
His eyes fluttered, his lip catching between his teeth. "Let me see you fall apart, pretty boy." That did it. He came with a broken moan, his hips bucking forward as he spilled into your mouth.
His hand tightened in your hair, his body shuddering his breath came in short, uneven gasps. He was whispering your name over and over like a prayer, half-coherent and completely gone.
When he finally stilled he looked down at you with dazed, watery eyes. A lazy, satisfied grin spread across his face. "...Love you," he mumbled. "Mean it. Even if you're mean."
You laughed softly, wiping the corner of your mouth as you climbed back up to sit beside him. He immediately slumped against you, his head finding your shoulder. "Best birthday ever," he murmured. You pressed a kiss to his hair. "Happy birthday."
Michael was quiet for a moment after he came down.
Still slumped against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your thigh. You thought he'd fallen asleep, his breathing evening out.
But then he shifted. Lifted his head. Blinked at you slowly those dark eyes glassy but focused, like he was forcing himself to stay present. "You didn't come."
You opened your mouth to brush it off to tell him it was fine, that you were okay, but he was already shaking his head, his brow furrowing with genuine concern.
"No. I felt it. You were close when I…" He gestured vaguely downward, a loose wave of his hand. "Then you stopped. That's not fair to you."
"It's okay, baby. We're almost at the hotel." It was fine, honestly seeing him come was enough for you. He pouted but he nodded. "Fine. But I'm not forgetting. Soon as we get inside, I'm takin' care of you. Promise."
You smiled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair. "I know you will." He hummed, content, and pressed a kiss to your collarbone before settling back against your shoulder. His hand never stopped moving, tracing lazy circles on your thigh his thumb occasionally dipping closer to where you needed him just to tease.
"I'm gonna make you feel so good," he murmured against your skin. "Gonna make you forget your own name." "You're very confident for someone who can barely stand."
He giggled, a sleepy drunken sound. "Don't need to stand. Got a tongue. Got fingers. Got you."
The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, Michael's head resting on your shoulder, his hand absently rubbing your thigh. Every few seconds he'd press a kiss to your collarbone, mumbling little nothings against your skin. "Pretty." "Love you." "Best wife." "Gonna marry you again tomorrow."
When the limo finally pulled up to the hotel, Michael stumbled out with your help, his feet unsteady on the pavement, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline.
The driver had already circled around to open the door, and Michael turned to him with a look of genuine apology, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sincere and slurred. "For the mess. For everything. I don't usually I promise! The noises. All of it. I'm real sorry."
The driver laughed, waving a hand. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Jackson. Happens more than you'd think." Michael blinked, his head tilting like a confused puppy. "Really?" "No, not really." The driver grinned wide, his eyes crinkling. "But happy birthday Mr Jackson."
Michael laughed loudly, leaning heavily into your side as you guided him toward the entrance. "I like him. He's funny. Tip him extra." "I will, baby." "Like a lot extra. Double. Triple maybe."
"Whatever you want." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, messy and warm. "You're the best."
The hotel lobby was mostly empty at this hour, just a few staff members behind the counter who nodded respectfully as you passed. A security guard near the elevator gave a small wave, which Michael returned with a lazy, two finger salute. You kept him moving, your arm wrapped around his waist, his hand gripping yours as you guided him toward the elevator.
The moment the doors slid shut, he was on you again. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him, his face burying in your neck. He breathed in deep, a content hum vibrating against your skin.
"Almost there," he mumbled against your pulse. "Then I get to take care of you. Properly." "You're very determined about this." He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "Determined husband. That's me. Cause I love you."
"And very handsome." He pulled back just enough to look at you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You think so?" "I know so." He kissed you then, soft and warm, his tongue brushing against your lower lip before he pulled away. "Love you."
"Love you too, Michael." The elevator dinged. You guided him down the hall, fumbling with the key card until the door clicked open.
The suite was quiet when you finally stepped inside. Dark, save for the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains were drawn open. The bed loomed in the center of the room, massively covered in pillows you knew you'd be shoving off the floor within minutes.
The door clicked shut behind you, and Michael turned to you immediately, his hands finding your waist. You expected him to stumble toward the bed, to collapse and sleep off the rest of his buzz.
Instead, he stood there, looking at you with those dark, glassy eyes, his chest rising and falling. "I didn’t forget." he said, his voice softer now, his earlier bravado fading into something gentler. "In the car. You didn't come at all. Told you I wouldn't forget"
You shook your head. "It's okay, really. Tonight was about you Michael I told you. "
"It's not okay." His hands tightened on your waist, guiding you backward toward the bed. "I'm gonna take care of it. Right now. That's what husbands do. That's what I want to do."
You let him guide you until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He pushed gently, and you sat. Then laid back, your elbows propping you up as you looked up at him. He stood over you for a moment, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.
"Stay right there," he murmured, his voice low.
He reached for the hem of your dress, bunching it up slowly, carefully, his fingers brushing against your skin with every inch he revealed until the dress was gathered around your hips, baring you to him completely.
His breath caught when he saw the damp spot on your panties, the fabric dark and clinging to you evidence of how worked up you'd been all night. "Look at you," he breathed, his voice reverent. "So pretty down here, mama. You've been sittin' in this all night, haven't you? All wet for me, huh?"
Your face heated up. "Michael."
"Don't be so shy Tink." His thumbs traced slow circles on your inner thighs. "I'm your husband. I got every right to see what's mine. And this," he pressed a kiss to the damp fabric, "this is mine."
He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He shifted, getting comfortable settling in like he planned to be there for a while.
"I'm gonna take my time with you," he murmured. "Gonna taste every inch of you 'til you're beggin' me to stop."
He pressed his mouth to the wet spot on your panties, hot and open, his tongue flat against the fabric. A low moan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against you, and you gasped at the sensation.
"Mmm..—" He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips slick. "Taste you through the fabric, mama. It's still so good. Sweet and wet. Could drink you up like this all night and die happy." He pressed another damp kiss to your panties.
But he didn't pull them off yet. Instead, he lifted your foot, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the top of your arch, soft and slow. Then another on your ankle. Then he opened his mouth, dragging his tongue lazily along the side of your foot, leaving a trail of warm spit in its wake. "Mikey —"
"'S pretty," he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled. "Every part of you is pretty." He pressed wet, sloppy kisses to your toes, his mouth open and warm, drool slicking your skin as he went. He sucked gently on your big toe before pulling off with a soft pop, his chin glistening.
"Taste good everywhere," he murmured, almost to himself. "Even your feet taste like you." He set your foot down gently and lifted the other, repeating the same ritual kisses, licks, open-mouthed drags of his tongue, leaving you shiny and wet and completely his.
By the time he set that foot down, you were a little breathless, your heart pounding.
He looked up at you through his lashes, his lips swollen and slick. "Now." he said, his voice rough. "Lemme see what's underneath."
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, watching as they peeled away from your slick skin. He dragged them down your thighs, past your knees, over your ankles, and tossed them somewhere behind him without looking. His eyes were fixed on you, dark and hungry.
"There she is," he breathed. "There's my pretty girl. All bare for me. You're so beautiful like this, you know that? All spread out, waitin' for me."
He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. Soft. Warm. Then another, higher. He worked his way up inch by inch, kissing and licking at your skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his mouth touched. When he reached the apex of your thighs he paused, his breath hot against your core, making you jump.
"You good?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Michael, just kiss me already." He laughed softly, the vibration tickling your skin. "So impatient. I like that about you."
Then he pressed his lips against you, firmly. He started slow. Gentle. His tongue dragged up through your folds in one long, languid stroke, from your entrance to your clit tasting you like he had all the time in the world. A deep moan rumbled from his chest, his eyes fluttering shut.
"Fuck," he breathed against you. "Taste better than I remembered. All mine." He had you pulled right to the edge, knees slung over his shoulders, your body pressed to his mouth. It was sloppy and drunk and he groaned with every movement of his jaw.
He was using his whole mouth, not just his tongue sucking, kissing, licking like you were a meal he'd been starving for.
His lips pressed against you as he spoke, his words muffled but clear enough. "Could stay here forever. Just live right here between your thighs. You'd let me, wouldn't you, mama?"
A low, rumbly growl tore from his throat. He doubled down on his efforts, pulled your thighs forward until his nose was flush against your clit, his tongue fucking into you with rapid, shallow strokes, absolutely sloppy with it. His grip on your hips left marks.
"You taste," he said between kisses and licks and swirls, "so fucking good, mama. Like you were made for my mouth. Made for me."
His tongue flicked over your clit again and again. You could feel the vibration of his groans, the way his nose pushed into you, and the way your thighs started to shake and squeeze around his ears.
"Yeah, that's it. That's my girl. Squeeze my head with those pretty thighs. Love it when you do that."
His lips closed around your clit and he sucked, gentle at first, then with more pressure, his tongue flicking against it while he did. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he moaned in approval.
"That's it, baby. Rut against my face. Use me. I'm yours."
You came undone, tipped over the edge with the next roll of his tongue, but he didn't stop. He coaxed you through it, gentling his touch, his tongue slowing to soft, soothing laps as you shuddered above him. He pulled back slowly, his mouth glistening, his lips swollen. He pressed a kiss to your thigh with a lazy smile, his chin slick.
"One more," he said, his voice rough, like he'd gargled gravel.
"Michael…" "One more." He dove back in without waiting for your answer, his tongue plunging into your core.
This time he wanted it messy. Wanted to taste you again, now that he had a fresh coat of you on his tongue. He sucked hard on your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat as he drove his tongue in and out, into the weeping place between your thighs.
His mouth was on you again, warm and insistent, his tongue dragging through your folds with that same sloppy, drunken rhythm. You were still sensitive from before, every pass of his lips sending sparks through your oversensitive nerves, and when he circled your clit with the flat of his tongue, you gasped your hips sliding up the mattress instinctively.
Too much. It was too much.
But his hand came down on your ass with a sharp slap, the sting blooming across your skin, and he pulled you back down against his mouth without missing a beat.
"Unh uh," he murmured against you, his voice rough and muffled. "Where you goin'?"
"Mikey— 's too much—"
"Don't care." His hand gripped your hip, holding you in place, his tongue diving back in. "Stop runnin'. Take it, acting like you can’t."
He pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, his chin slick, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you from between your thighs.
"You can take it. You're my good girl, right? My good wife?" You nodded weakly, your fingers tangling in the sheets. "Then lay there and let me love you."
He moaned against you, his tongue pressing deep inside, then sliding up. "Cum for me again, pretty mama. Let me taste it. Let me drink every drop." His tongue kept working you, keeping you right there, close, until you shattered again. He swallowed every bit of it, moaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
The third time because yes there was a third time, he changed the angle.
He lifted your hips onto his shoulders, your entire body pulled flush to his mouth. He wanted to taste every drop. Licking and drinking as you fluttered against him greedy. He didn't relent until he'd took a third orgasm from you, your trembling thighs locked around his head.
"You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured against you, his voice wrecked. "Best thing I've ever seen. Best thing I've ever tasted. I'm never gonna get enough of you."
You fell back onto the mattress, breathless and shaking, your body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.
When he finally pulled away, he rested his cheek on your thigh, still on his knees, blinking up at you with those big, drunk, adoring eyes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled, his lips swollen and slick.
"You okay?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. You nodded weakly, reaching down to brush your fingers through his hair. "Yeah. I'm more than okay." He grinned, proud of himself, and pressed a kiss to your knee.
"Good." He pushed himself up. "Good. Mission accomplished." "It was your birthday, remember?"
He gestured down at the mess he'd made of you. "Best gift I could've asked for." You were too spent to even consider a witty comeback.
He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, his lips pressing soft, lazy kisses to your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. That was his second language with you slow, featherlight touches after everything.
"Thank you." he said, quiet but sincere. "For tonight. For everything. I don't say it enough but you're my whole world, mama." You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "Happy birthday, Mikey."
He smiled, sleepy and satisfied. "Best one yet. Wonder how y’gonna top this next year…maybe you’ll finally let me get you pregnant?" You put a singular hand up to his lips, shutting him up. “Boy. Don’t ruin the moment. Go to sleep.”
can you please write about randy jr (enemies to lovers in highschool), they used to be friends in elementary school.
randy jr and reader are both popular.
and also you're a great writer !! 🩷
I can’t stand you! part one
summary: at six years old, you meet your new neighbors, the jacksons and your first little play date with Randy Jr. starts a little rocky
notes: ik i always say this but i love this request
july 4th 1998
four months ago, your family moved to Encino california after your dad accepted a job with a big marketing company. ever since then, your parents had been talking nonstop about how wonderful the neighborhood was and how excited they were to finally settle down
you, on the other hand, were more concerned about your new ballet classes and pageants
“mommyyy,” you groaned dramatically, dragging your feet across the sidewalk. “my feet hurt! i don’t like these shoes.” you whined stomping your feet with a over exaggerated pout
your mother looked down at you and sighed, she bent down to your height and gave you that look “lil girl if you keep complaining and fix your face …”
“sorry” you put your head down and huffed
“y/n these are our new neighbors, the jackson’s, they have a son your age and i want you to be nice to him” she said and slowly stood up “are those people daddy play golf with” you asked “yeah she replied”
“do I have to play with him?” you asked looking up at her “I didn’t say you had to play with him,” your mother replied. “I just said I want you to be nice.”
the front door of the Jackson house opened
a little boy with a head full of curls came flying outside, chasing after a red football that had rolled off the porch. he couldn’t have been older than six or seven.
then a ball rolled right to your feet so you picked it up.
he jogged over, stopping a few feet in front of you with his hands on his hips.
“…can I have my football back?”
you looked at the ball, then back at him “…ask nicely” his thick eyebrows scrunched together “but it’s my ball?” “you have to be nice” “fine…can i please have my ball back”
you held the ball out, he took it and ran the opposite way
the adults standing nearby exchanged amused looks before bursting into laughter
music drifted through the backyard while burgers sizzled on the grill, adults gathered around laughing over stories, paper plates balanced in their hands as the younger kids ran through the yard with sparklers and water balloons but you didn’t really have a interest in any of that so instead, you sat on a blanket beneath a large tree beside Genevieve, the two of you quietly coloring in matching princess coloring books. every now and then you’d hold your page up proudly for her to see before going back to carefully staying inside the lines
then a shadow suddenly fell over your picture, you looked up to see it was the curly-haired boy from earlier.
he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts “my name’s Randy Jr and i’m six” you nodded once. “i know, i’m y/n, i’m six too” “wanna play cops and robbers?”
you shook your head without even looking up from your coloring book. “no.” “why?” “‘cause I don’t want to” “but you have to” your crayon stopped moving and you looked up at him “no, I don’t” “yes, you do” “says who” “my mommy” he shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “she told me I have to play with you since you don’t have any friends”
your little face fell as your bottom lip trembled, your eyes instantly filled with tears
“but i-i do have friends…”
before Randy could say another word, you burst into tears. you sobbed, dropping your crayons onto the blanket before taking off toward your parents.
“mommy!”
heads turned as you wrapped your arms around your mother’s leg, crying so hard your words barely made sense “sweetheart what’s wrong?” your mom asked, kneeling down
“he-he…” you sniffled loudly, pointing a shaky finger toward Randy “he said i don’t have any friends”
across the yard, Alejandra looked between Randy and the crying little girl before calling his full name
“steven! come here!”
dragging his feet, Randy slowly walked over, already knowing he was in trouble. Alejandra knelt beside him
“did you tell y/n she doesn’t have any friends?” he looked down at his sandals and nodded “…yeah.” “Why would you say that?”
“you told me to play with her ’cause she was new” “i did,” Alejandra said gently “but I never said it was because she didn’t have friends”
“…oh” “you hurt her feelings by saying that”
he peeked over at you, still hiding behind your mom with tears streaming down your cheeks.
Alejandra and Randy walked with his ear in her hand and stood in front of you and your mom, she rested a hand on his shoulder “what do we say when we hurt someone’s feelings?”
Randy sighed “…i’m sorry” “louder”
he looked directly at you “i’m sorry y/n”
you sniffled, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand “i didn’t mean to make you cry” he mumbled “i just wanted someone to play cops and robbers with”
Alejandra smiled softly “and from now on, I want you to be nice to y/m she’s new here, and I think the two of you could become really good friends” Randy hesitated before nodding “yes ma’am”
your mom gently nudged you forward “what do you say sweetheart?”
you looked at Randy for a long moment before taking two tiny steps toward him “i forgive you”
“now hug” your mom said making the both of you groan at the exact same time.
“ewwww”
the adults laughed. with the biggest, most dramatic sigh either of you could manage, you gave each other the quickest little hug imaginable before immediately pulling away
four Years Later, summer 2002
“first place of little miss encino goes to…”
the entire auditorium went quiet
“…Y/N L/N!”
the crowd erupted into applause.
ten year old you beamed from ear to ear as the oversized crown was carefully placed on your head. your satin sash read first place overall, and another that said little miss encino, then sitting the trophy down next to your feet, it was almost as tall as you
your parents were already on their feet cheering louder than anyone else “that’s my baby!” “show em princess!”
you gave a tiny princess wave before hurrying offstage. the second you stepped behind the curtain, you were nearly tackled into a hug by your mom “I knew you were going to win!” she squealed
“but I messed up my dance!” you whined “but nobody noticed baby it’s okay!”
your dad proudly took your trophy from you “I think it’s time for some victory pictures”
s everyone made their way into the lobby, you heard someone calling your name “Y/N!”
you turned around and Randy came jogging over, trying to keep the bouquet of pink and white flowers from falling apart in his hands.
“they’re for you” your eyes lit up “me?”
he shrugged, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting “yeah… ’cause you won and did a good job”
“they’re so pretty! thank you!”
you smiled so big your cheeks started to hurt and without thinking, you wrapped him in a quick hug, Randy froze for a second before awkwardly hugging you back
behind the two of you, both sets of parents collectively let out an exaggerated “awwww!” making the two of you immediately pull apart
“ew don’t make it weird” Randy muttered, scratching the back of his neck “i only hugged you because you gave me flowers” you defended “mhm” “i did!”
your parents were already pulling out disposable cameras and camcorders “okay, okay! Picture time!” your dad called
the two of you stood side by side and smiled, large crown on your head and bouquet of flowers in your hand
click !
“closer!” your mom instructed, you both shuffled exactly one inch toward each other “i said closer!”
Randy sighed dramatically before taking another step until your shoulders bumped “there we go!”
click !
Alejandra grinned behind the camera “Randy, put your arm around her” “mom…” “just for the picture”
rolling his eyes, Randy lazily draped an arm over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but smile
click !
“that’s adorable!” your mom laughed “now give her a hug!”“a hug?!” you repeated “we don’t wanna hug!” Randy complained “you hug your friends, don’t you?” Alejandra asked, both of your faces twisted in disgust “do we have to?” Randy groaned
“yes!”
with all the enthusiasm in the world, aka none at all, you gave each other the quickest side hug imaginable
click !
“one more!” your dad called making Randy let out a groan “we already did one more”“this is the last one, I promise”
Alejandra smiled mischievously “Randy…” he narrowed his eyes “…mom” “give y/n a kiss on the cheek, just this once! for the picture!” “mom! no!”
you squished your face in disgust “e’yuck!”
“it’ll take one second!” “no, it won’t!” Randy argued “It literally will” your dad laughed
both sets of parents started chanting “kiss! kiss! liss!”
the two of you looked at each other with identical horrified expressions “this is embarrassing,” you whispered “i know”
“just do it so they’ll stop” Randy sighed like the weight of the world had been placed on his tiny shoulders “fine…”
he leaned over as quickly as possible and gave your cheek the fastest peck immediately jumping back like he’d touched a hot stove “there! i did it!” he shouted, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt “happy?”
the adults burst into laughter and you stood there with bright pink cheeks, trying your hardest not to smile
“you’ve got lipstick on your cheek,” Randy pointed out, your eyes widened “i don’t wear lipstick! i wear gloss!” “oh” he stared for another second before realizing it was your pageant blush “…never mind” “you are so dumb” “says the girl who thought I was serious” “i did not!” “you did”
you shoved his shoulder, he shoved you back.
“y’all are a hot mess” your mom laughed as she looked down at the freshly developed Polaroid. “one minute you’re arguing, the next minute you’re posing like best friends.”
tags 🏷️ @siighrns @blkkbratt @humannaturess @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @jermajestysbaby @doleuia @jks-luvr @dolliswan ( only mutual tags for now, just ask to be apart of this series tag list)
can you please write about randy jr (enemies to lovers in highschool), they used to be friends in elementary school.
randy jr and reader are both popular.
and also you're a great writer !! 🩷
I can’t stand you. part one
summary: at six years old, you meet your new neighbors, the jacksons and your first little play date with Randy Jr. starts a little rocky
notes: ik i always say this but i love this request
july 4th 1998
four months ago, your family moved to Encino california after your dad accepted a job with a big marketing company. ever since then, your parents had been talking nonstop about how wonderful the neighborhood was and how excited they were to finally settle down
you, on the other hand, were more concerned about your new ballet classes and pageants
“mommyyy,” you groaned dramatically, dragging your feet across the sidewalk. “my feet hurt! i don’t like these shoes.” you whined stomping your feet with a over exaggerated pout
your mother looked down at you and sighed, she bent down to your height and gave you that look “lil girl if you keep complaining and fix your face …”
“sorry” you put your head down and huffed
“y/n these are our new neighbors, the jackson’s, they have a son your age and i want you to be nice to him” she said and slowly stood up “are those people daddy play golf with” you asked “yeah she replied”
“do I have to play with him?” you asked looking up at her “I didn’t say you had to play with him,” your mother replied. “I just said I want you to be nice.”
the front door of the Jackson house opened
a little boy with a head full of curls came flying outside, chasing after a red football that had rolled off the porch. he couldn’t have been older than six or seven.
then a ball rolled right to your feet so you picked it up.
he jogged over, stopping a few feet in front of you with his hands on his hips.
“…can I have my football back?”
you looked at the ball, then back at him “…ask nicely” his thick eyebrows scrunched together “but it’s my ball?” “you have to be nice” “fine…can i please have my ball back”
you held the ball out, he took it and ran the opposite way
the adults standing nearby exchanged amused looks before bursting into laughter
music drifted through the backyard while burgers sizzled on the grill, adults gathered around laughing over stories, paper plates balanced in their hands as the younger kids ran through the yard with sparklers and water balloons but you didn’t really have a interest in any of that so instead, you sat on a blanket beneath a large tree beside Genevieve, the two of you quietly coloring in matching princess coloring books. every now and then you’d hold your page up proudly for her to see before going back to carefully staying inside the lines
then a shadow suddenly fell over your picture, you looked up to see it was the curly-haired boy from earlier.
he shoved his hands into the pockets of his shorts “my name’s Randy Jr and i’m six” you nodded once. “i know, i’m y/n, i’m six too” “wanna play cops and robbers?”
you shook your head without even looking up from your coloring book. “no.” “why?” “‘cause I don’t want to” “but you have to” your crayon stopped moving and you looked up at him “no, I don’t” “yes, you do” “says who” “my mommy” he shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “she told me I have to play with you since you don’t have any friends”
your little face fell as your bottom lip trembled, your eyes instantly filled with tears
“but i-i do have friends…”
before Randy could say another word, you burst into tears. you sobbed, dropping your crayons onto the blanket before taking off toward your parents.
“mommy!”
heads turned as you wrapped your arms around your mother’s leg, crying so hard your words barely made sense “sweetheart what’s wrong?” your mom asked, kneeling down
“he-he…” you sniffled loudly, pointing a shaky finger toward Randy “he said i don’t have any friends”
across the yard, Alejandra looked between Randy and the crying little girl before calling his full name
“steven! come here!”
dragging his feet, Randy slowly walked over, already knowing he was in trouble. Alejandra knelt beside him
“did you tell y/n she doesn’t have any friends?” he looked down at his sandals and nodded “…yeah.” “Why would you say that?”
“you told me to play with her ’cause she was new” “i did,” Alejandra said gently “but I never said it was because she didn’t have friends”
“…oh” “you hurt her feelings by saying that”
he peeked over at you, still hiding behind your mom with tears streaming down your cheeks.
Alejandra and Randy walked with his ear in her hand and stood in front of you and your mom, she rested a hand on his shoulder “what do we say when we hurt someone’s feelings?”
Randy sighed “…i’m sorry” “louder”
he looked directly at you “i’m sorry y/n”
you sniffled, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand “i didn’t mean to make you cry” he mumbled “i just wanted someone to play cops and robbers with”
Alejandra smiled softly “and from now on, I want you to be nice to y/m she’s new here, and I think the two of you could become really good friends” Randy hesitated before nodding “yes ma’am”
your mom gently nudged you forward “what do you say sweetheart?”
you looked at Randy for a long moment before taking two tiny steps toward him “i forgive you”
“now hug” your mom said making the both of you groan at the exact same time.
“ewwww”
the adults laughed. with the biggest, most dramatic sigh either of you could manage, you gave each other the quickest little hug imaginable before immediately pulling away
four Years Later, summer 2002
“first place of little miss encino goes to…”
the entire auditorium went quiet
“…Y/N L/N!”
the crowd erupted into applause.
ten year old you beamed from ear to ear as the oversized crown was carefully placed on your head. your satin sash read first place overall, and another that said little miss encino, then sitting the trophy down next to your feet, it was almost as tall as you
your parents were already on their feet cheering louder than anyone else “that’s my baby!” “show em princess!”
you gave a tiny princess wave before hurrying offstage. the second you stepped behind the curtain, you were nearly tackled into a hug by your mom “I knew you were going to win!” she squealed
“but I messed up my dance!” you whined “but nobody noticed baby it’s okay!”
your dad proudly took your trophy from you “I think it’s time for some victory pictures”
s everyone made their way into the lobby, you heard someone calling your name “Y/N!”
you turned around and Randy came jogging over, trying to keep the bouquet of pink and white flowers from falling apart in his hands.
“they’re for you” your eyes lit up “me?”
he shrugged, suddenly finding the carpet very interesting “yeah… ’cause you won and did a good job”
“they’re so pretty! thank you!”
you smiled so big your cheeks started to hurt and without thinking, you wrapped him in a quick hug, Randy froze for a second before awkwardly hugging you back
behind the two of you, both sets of parents collectively let out an exaggerated “awwww!” making the two of you immediately pull apart
“ew don’t make it weird” Randy muttered, scratching the back of his neck “i only hugged you because you gave me flowers” you defended “mhm” “i did!”
your parents were already pulling out disposable cameras and camcorders “okay, okay! Picture time!” your dad called
the two of you stood side by side and smiled, large crown on your head and bouquet of flowers in your hand
click !
“closer!” your mom instructed, you both shuffled exactly one inch toward each other “i said closer!”
Randy sighed dramatically before taking another step until your shoulders bumped “there we go!”
click !
Alejandra grinned behind the camera “Randy, put your arm around her” “mom…” “just for the picture”
rolling his eyes, Randy lazily draped an arm over your shoulders, you couldn’t help but smile
click !
“that’s adorable!” your mom laughed “now give her a hug!”“a hug?!” you repeated “we don’t wanna hug!” Randy complained “you hug your friends, don’t you?” Alejandra asked, both of your faces twisted in disgust “do we have to?” Randy groaned
“yes!”
with all the enthusiasm in the world, aka none at all, you gave each other the quickest side hug imaginable
click !
“one more!” your dad called making Randy let out a groan “we already did one more”“this is the last one, I promise”
Alejandra smiled mischievously “Randy…” he narrowed his eyes “…mom” “give y/n a kiss on the cheek, just this once! for the picture!” “mom! no!”
you squished your face in disgust “e’yuck!”
“it’ll take one second!” “no, it won’t!” Randy argued “It literally will” your dad laughed
both sets of parents started chanting “kiss! kiss! liss!”
the two of you looked at each other with identical horrified expressions “this is embarrassing,” you whispered “i know”
“just do it so they’ll stop” Randy sighed like the weight of the world had been placed on his tiny shoulders “fine…”
he leaned over as quickly as possible and gave your cheek the fastest peck immediately jumping back like he’d touched a hot stove “there! i did it!” he shouted, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt “happy?”
the adults burst into laughter and you stood there with bright pink cheeks, trying your hardest not to smile
“you’ve got lipstick on your cheek,” Randy pointed out, your eyes widened “i don’t wear lipstick! i wear gloss!” “oh” he stared for another second before realizing it was your pageant blush “…never mind” “you are so dumb” “says the girl who thought I was serious” “i did not!” “you did”
you shoved his shoulder, he shoved you back.
“y’all are a hot mess” your mom laughed as she looked down at the freshly developed Polaroid. “one minute you’re arguing, the next minute you’re posing like best friends.”
tags 🏷️ @siighrns @blkkbratt @humannaturess @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @jermajestysbaby @doleuia @jks-luvr @dolliswan ( only mutual tags for now, just ask to be apart of this series tag list)
michael jackson was a BLACK MAN. yall need to remember that. yes his music was and is for everyone but make sure y’all remember he is a black man before anything else, and he experienced the black man struggles!! i see too many people that seem to forget that whether it’s because of his vitiligo or whatever else.
tangentwithtanner
