⊱ you fall asleep on pervybsf!michael's lap.
18+ mdni, consensual somnophilia, reader wakes up but pretends she's still sleeping, michael is dirty, groping, nipple play/ball play, some descriptions of reader being thick/curvy, big dick mike, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, fingering, you cum at the same time, half swallow, half facial.
michael was in a sticky predicament.
it was a typical movie night for the two of you– but your job had worn you down so much that you'd fallen asleep within an hour of the first. in any other situation, that would be fine. really, it would have. in fact, he would have curled up beside you and went to sleep himself; or maybe even waited patiently for you to wake up, pretending like you hadn't fallen asleep in the first place.
but you were spread on your side across the couch, and instead of your head being on the armrest, it was perched right in his lap. and sure, michael could still just sleep this way; sitting upright, back against the couch cushion and head hanging to the side. he could even lift your head and shift over, freeing himself from the confinements of being your personal pillow.
but then he ran the risk of you waking up, inches from the semi-hard tent in his pants.
and he couldn't sleep anyway, because every so often you would shift and your cheek would nuzzle closer, deeper into the fabric of his pajama pants– and his dick would give a little twitch and throb. he'd have to throw his head back and take three deep breaths in an attempt to push the urge away, but then he'd raise his head and his eyes would instinctively drift back to you.
deep breaths be damned, because the sight of you was straight from a wet dream.
you wore a loose tank– so loose that if he tilted his head to the right even a little, he could see that you weren't wearing a bra; could see the beginnings of your dark brown areolas in the divot your tank top created. and if he blew air from his mouth over you, causing goosebumps to rise on your shoulders, he could see the hardened peaks forming through the thin fabric. but that was only if he tilted his head to the right. only if he blew air from his mouth. and who's to say he did?
because he didn't! he was a good best friend, focused purely on the movie, and only that.
at least until you pulled your knees closer to yourself, your hips shifting up and then down as you get comfortable; causing a slight ripple throughout the fatty flesh peaking from the bottom of your pajama shorts. he only looked for a few seconds before his eyes drifted further down– to the bare press of your thick thighs. with every inch of skin his gaze traced, he could feel the blood rushing straight south, raising the tent of his pants more and more.
yeah, michael was in a very sticky predicament.
he leaned his head back again, getting through two and a half deep breaths before his body jerked slightly at the feeling of something wet. when he leaned over your body slowly, peering at how your mouth was squished open from the way his hard dick dug into your cheek, he could see a string of drool trailing down the corner of your mouth and creating a puddle over the front of him. and when enough gathered, he watched your spit trail down and down, starting from just below the top of his covered length and to the base of him.
michael sits back again, with a soft "o-oh," as he squeezes his eyes shut– attempting to erase the visual from his mind. though he freezes when you shift once more...
and when you continue to move for longer than usual, he rests a hand on your side, hoping to stop you from the way you're rubbing against him again– but it's a mistake; because when you finally settle with a contented noise, he can feel the warm and smooth expanse of your bare stomach from where his long fingers sit.
that little taste is the switch he'd been trying his hardest to avoid.
eyes peeled, he trails his hand from your stomach and over the hill of your hip– then down to the curve of your ass. michael pauses here, eyes flickering to your face to check if you're still sleeping, before he begins to softly grope you; groaning when he spreads his fingers wide and grips, not even holding half of the fat of your ass in his big hands. he does the same to your other cheek before moving, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until your ass is swallowing most of the fabric– ignoring each pulse and throb and twitch coming from his dick.
he moves again, slowly, back over your hip and side and forward, until his palm is covering your breast. michael pauses again, watching the rise and fall of your chest and the way your eyes stay closed, plump lips still parted. when he feels he's in the clear, he continues his administrations on your breast– kneading and rubbing, thumb flicking over your nipple and watching in fascination as your thighs press together, even in your sleep.
well, in what he thinks is your sleep– because you're very awake; hiding behind closed eyes and parted lips. you'd been awake from the first twitch of dick against your cheek, from the moment your head was pushed further as he grew harder with each touch. you fought not to bite your lip, drool still spilling from your mouth at the way he pinches your nipple between two fingers and rolls.
and michael planned to stop there, really. he wasn't that much of a freak. but when he moves so that his hand is resting flat against your breast, you pretend as if you're shifting in your sleep again– letting a quiet moan fall from your lips as you slowly arch your back into his hand, as if you're stretching. he only had so much self control.
michael waits until you're finished repositioning before he moves himself, fingertips teasing the top of your tank top and pulling down, salivating as more of your bare skin is exposed. he keeps his eyes on your breast as it finally slips free from the restraint of your top. within seconds his hands are back on you– everything feeling ten times better now that there's no fabric blocking your skins from touching.
your eyes roll back behind your eyelids as you force your body to stay still, clenching your thighs as discreetly as you can. soon after, the faded lights from behind your eyes grow darker, and the smell of his cologne grows stronger. you peek one eye open –the one closest to his lap– to see him beginning to touch himself.
you deserve a fucking medal from the way you bite your moan back down. he's so turned on from playing with your tits that he's started to palm himself, and if you strain your ears hard enough, you can hear the staggered breaths he lets out. really, you don't know how much longer you can pretend, because the wet growing between your thighs is becoming excessive. uncomfortable.
luckily, it doesn't take long for him to shift his hips forward, and slouch his back slightly further down the couch cushion so that your head falls towards his stomach– revealing the button on the crotch of his pajamas. one hand works to unbutton it in seconds before he's reaching inside and pulling himself out.
this time, you have to bite your lip to keep the sounds and saliva in as you peer at the perfection in front of you. from where your head rests, you can only see a little more than half of his length, and can only see glimpses of velvety brown and veins as he pumps himself slowly.
you shift again, unconsciously, because the hand at your breast is still working overtime –switching between nipples, pinching, rubbing, flicking– and the feeling is so overwhelming. a whimper leaves your lips.
michael freezes again– stopping both of his hands as his heart pounds, thinking of ways he can explain his way out of this. he almost can't believe his eyes as he watches your mouth part again, pink tongue darting out to lick at the base of him.
you're both silent, waiting for the others' next move. and when michael stays still, you figure the ball must still be in your court.
raising your head slightly, your tongue leaves your mouth again– this time licking a trail from where his fingers still grip to the ridge of his tip, swirling around it before you take his whole head into your mouth and suck; still giving kitten licks as you do.
michael's hand leaves his dick, shooting straight for the back of your head as he throws his head back and moans. the hand on your breast tightens with the pleasure he feels, trapping your nipple between his ring and pinky fingers– which in turn, makes you whine around the head of his dick. it's a non-stop chain reaction, because the vibrations has his hand pushing your head down to take him deeper.
you're unprepared, choking sounds ringing throughout the air and tears filling your waterline as his tip hits the back of your throat– but you recover quickly, tongue cupping the underside of him as you suction your cheeks and move up, then back down, creating a rhythm.
"ohh… oh, god…" he cries out, fingers gripping the strands of your hair. your hand flies up to cover the inches of his length that your mouth can't take, twisting and following the wet trail you leave with every bob. you watch through lidded eyes as michael's legs straighten, toes curling each time you reach his tip and give a harsher suck. he moves to plant one foot on the floor as his hand pushes down at the same time as his hips shift up, pushing himself deeper into your throat again. "m'sorry— too good—" he moans as you sputter, a pool of spit sliding down his balls when he pushes holds you down at the base of him, bringing the hand from your breast to wrap around your throat; feeling the bulge through the thin skin of your neck. "—breathe, baby, breathe… doin' so good for me."
when he finally lets you go, you pull your mouth from him– gulping down air as you work him with your hand. "so good, so good…" he sighs when he feels the wet heat of your mouth again, the vibration of your moan as he moves one hand back down your body, dragging your useless shorts down– just far enough for him to reach that sweet spot between your thighs. "don't worry your pretty little head, your best friend is — mmmm, just like that — gonna take care of you, okay?"
michael cups you from behind, all four fingers pulling away with a string of your arousal attached. "god, you love this just as much as me… you're s-so dirty, mama…"
he trails a finger through your folds, collecting your juices before probing at your hole at the same time as you bob your head up, licking at the sensitive skin where his head meets his shaft. his hips jerk up and his finger slips inside of you. you pull away from his dick to moan when another finger follows immediately, but he stops you with the hand planted on the back of your head– gently urging you back to him with a "shhh".
you continue like this for minutes more, your mouth filled with his heavy weight and his two fingers switching between shallow and deep pumps. but michael grows frustrated with the angle quickly, ignoring your whimper as he removes his fingers and grips the thigh resting on top, pulling it up until your legs are spread like a 'v'.
the upper half of your body stays the same, still sideways in his lap, but with your ass now against the couch cushion michael can sneak his hand over your stomach and right between your legs– wasting no time returning his fingers to where you need him the most. his palm presses firm against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, satisfied now that he can easily hit that spot that makes your whole body tense. you mewl around his dick, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth as you start grinding against his hand in pure desperation.
it doesn't take long for that knot to tighten deep in your belly– and wanting so badly to bring him there with you, you drop your hand to his balls and fondle them. you cup your hand around them and bring your mouth down to suck them in quickly, before going back to bobbing along his length, making sure your tongue licks at his balls with each drop.
"f-fuck yes— m'close," he groans, muscles of his stomach tightening at that familiar feeling. "this s'what our friendship needed, h-huh, mama? —be so much closer after."
you can't answer with words, only with a muffled moan as your grinding becomes more urgent– and when michael adds one last finger and presses his palm against your clit harder, the knot in your belly snaps, wave after wave crashing over you as your pussy clenches around his fingers. the squelching grows louder as he fingers you through your release.
"g-gonna," is the only warning he can give you as you feel the first pulse of his seed on your tongue. you swallow around him, taking what you can, but there's almost too much. you pull him from your mouth with a 'pop!', stroking him with your hand as the last few spurts cover your face. his cum drips down your cheek, across your chin, and you keep your mouth open– tongue hanging out to catch what you can.
michael's fighting to keep his eyes open, whines falling from his lips and chest heaving, as he watches his release paint your face.
if he thought the sight of you earlier was a wet dream– then the sight of you now was heaven on earth; shorts pushed all the way down to your ankles and his fingers still buried deep inside you, pussy lips glistening, bare breasts spilling out of the top of your tank, and your face flushed and covered in him as you meet his eyes.
⊱ you fall asleep on pervybsf!michael's lap.
18+ mdni, consensual somnophilia, reader wakes up but pretends she's still sleeping, michael is dirty, groping, nipple play/ball play, some descriptions of reader being thick/curvy, big dick mike, oral (m!receiving), face fucking, fingering, you cum at the same time, half swallow, half facial.
michael was in a sticky predicament.
it was a typical movie night for the two of you– but your job had worn you down so much that you'd fallen asleep within an hour of the first. in any other situation, that would be fine. really, it would have. in fact, he would have curled up beside you and went to sleep himself; or maybe even waited patiently for you to wake up, pretending like you hadn't fallen asleep in the first place.
but you were spread on your side across the couch, and instead of your head being on the armrest, it was perched right in his lap. and sure, michael could still just sleep this way; sitting upright, back against the couch cushion and head hanging to the side. he could even lift your head and shift over, freeing himself from the confinements of being your personal pillow.
but then he ran the risk of you waking up, inches from the semi-hard tent in his pants.
and he couldn't sleep anyway, because every so often you would shift and your cheek would nuzzle closer, deeper into the fabric of his pajama pants– and his dick would give a little twitch and throb. he'd have to throw his head back and take three deep breaths in an attempt to push the urge away, but then he'd raise his head and his eyes would instinctively drift back to you.
deep breaths be damned, because the sight of you was straight from a wet dream.
you wore a loose tank– so loose that if he tilted his head to the right even a little, he could see that you weren't wearing a bra; could see the beginnings of your dark brown areolas in the divot your tank top created. and if he blew air from his mouth over you, causing goosebumps to rise on your shoulders, he could see the hardened peaks forming through the thin fabric. but that was only if he tilted his head to the right. only if he blew air from his mouth. and who's to say he did?
because he didn't! he was a good best friend, focused purely on the movie, and only that.
at least until you pulled your knees closer to yourself, your hips shifting up and then down as you get comfortable; causing a slight ripple throughout the fatty flesh peaking from the bottom of your pajama shorts. he only looked for a few seconds before his eyes drifted further down– to the bare press of your thick thighs. with every inch of skin his gaze traced, he could feel the blood rushing straight south, raising the tent of his pants more and more.
yeah, michael was in a very sticky predicament.
he leaned his head back again, getting through two and a half deep breaths before his body jerked slightly at the feeling of something wet. when he leaned over your body slowly, peering at how your mouth was squished open from the way his hard dick dug into your cheek, he could see a string of drool trailing down the corner of your mouth and creating a puddle over the front of him. and when enough gathered, he watched your spit trail down and down, starting from just below the top of his covered length and to the base of him.
michael sits back again, with a soft "o-oh," as he squeezes his eyes shut– attempting to erase the visual from his mind. though he freezes when you shift once more...
and when you continue to move for longer than usual, he rests a hand on your side, hoping to stop you from the way you're rubbing against him again– but it's a mistake; because when you finally settle with a contented noise, he can feel the warm and smooth expanse of your bare stomach from where his long fingers sit.
that little taste is the switch he'd been trying his hardest to avoid.
eyes peeled, he trails his hand from your stomach and over the hill of your hip– then down to the curve of your ass. michael pauses here, eyes flickering to your face to check if you're still sleeping, before he begins to softly grope you; groaning when he spreads his fingers wide and grips, not even holding half of the fat of your ass in his big hands. he does the same to your other cheek before moving, pulling the waistband of your shorts up until your ass is swallowing most of the fabric– ignoring each pulse and throb and twitch coming from his dick.
he moves again, slowly, back over your hip and side and forward, until his palm is covering your breast. michael pauses again, watching the rise and fall of your chest and the way your eyes stay closed, plump lips still parted. when he feels he's in the clear, he continues his administrations on your breast– kneading and rubbing, thumb flicking over your nipple and watching in fascination as your thighs press together, even in your sleep.
well, in what he thinks is your sleep– because you're very awake; hiding behind closed eyes and parted lips. you'd been awake from the first twitch of dick against your cheek, from the moment your head was pushed further as he grew harder with each touch. you fought not to bite your lip, drool still spilling from your mouth at the way he pinches your nipple between two fingers and rolls.
and michael planned to stop there, really. he wasn't that much of a freak. but when he moves so that his hand is resting flat against your breast, you pretend as if you're shifting in your sleep again– letting a quiet moan fall from your lips as you slowly arch your back into his hand, as if you're stretching. he only had so much self control.
michael waits until you're finished repositioning before he moves himself, fingertips teasing the top of your tank top and pulling down, salivating as more of your bare skin is exposed. he keeps his eyes on your breast as it finally slips free from the restraint of your top. within seconds his hands are back on you– everything feeling ten times better now that there's no fabric blocking your skins from touching.
your eyes roll back behind your eyelids as you force your body to stay still, clenching your thighs as discreetly as you can. soon after, the faded lights from behind your eyes grow darker, and the smell of his cologne grows stronger. you peek one eye open –the one closest to his lap– to see him beginning to touch himself.
you deserve a fucking medal from the way you bite your moan back down. he's so turned on from playing with your tits that he's started to palm himself, and if you strain your ears hard enough, you can hear the staggered breaths he lets out. really, you don't know how much longer you can pretend, because the wet growing between your thighs is becoming excessive. uncomfortable.
luckily, it doesn't take long for him to shift his hips forward, and slouch his back slightly further down the couch cushion so that your head falls towards his stomach– revealing the button on the crotch of his pajamas. one hand works to unbutton it in seconds before he's reaching inside and pulling himself out.
this time, you have to bite your lip to keep the sounds and saliva in as you peer at the perfection in front of you. from where your head rests, you can only see a little more than half of his length, and can only see glimpses of velvety brown and veins as he pumps himself slowly.
you shift again, unconsciously, because the hand at your breast is still working overtime –switching between nipples, pinching, rubbing, flicking– and the feeling is so overwhelming. a whimper leaves your lips.
michael freezes again– stopping both of his hands as his heart pounds, thinking of ways he can explain his way out of this. he almost can't believe his eyes as he watches your mouth part again, pink tongue darting out to lick at the base of him.
you're both silent, waiting for the others' next move. and when michael stays still, you figure the ball must still be in your court.
raising your head slightly, your tongue leaves your mouth again– this time licking a trail from where his fingers still grip to the ridge of his tip, swirling around it before you take his whole head into your mouth and suck; still giving kitten licks as you do.
michael's hand leaves his dick, shooting straight for the back of your head as he throws his head back and moans. the hand on your breast tightens with the pleasure he feels, trapping your nipple between his ring and pinky fingers– which in turn, makes you whine around the head of his dick. it's a non-stop chain reaction, because the vibrations has his hand pushing your head down to take him deeper.
you're unprepared, choking sounds ringing throughout the air and tears filling your waterline as his tip hits the back of your throat– but you recover quickly, tongue cupping the underside of him as you suction your cheeks and move up, then back down, creating a rhythm.
"ohh… oh, god…" he cries out, fingers gripping the strands of your hair. your hand flies up to cover the inches of his length that your mouth can't take, twisting and following the wet trail you leave with every bob. you watch through lidded eyes as michael's legs straighten, toes curling each time you reach his tip and give a harsher suck. he moves to plant one foot on the floor as his hand pushes down at the same time as his hips shift up, pushing himself deeper into your throat again. "m'sorry— too good—" he moans as you sputter, a pool of spit sliding down his balls when he pushes holds you down at the base of him, bringing the hand from your breast to wrap around your throat; feeling the bulge through the thin skin of your neck. "—breathe, baby, breathe… doin' so good for me."
when he finally lets you go, you pull your mouth from him– gulping down air as you work him with your hand. "so good, so good…" he sighs when he feels the wet heat of your mouth again, the vibration of your moan as he moves one hand back down your body, dragging your useless shorts down– just far enough for him to reach that sweet spot between your thighs. "don't worry your pretty little head, your best friend is — mmmm, just like that — gonna take care of you, okay?"
michael cups you from behind, all four fingers pulling away with a string of your arousal attached. "god, you love this just as much as me… you're s-so dirty, mama…"
he trails a finger through your folds, collecting your juices before probing at your hole at the same time as you bob your head up, licking at the sensitive skin where his head meets his shaft. his hips jerk up and his finger slips inside of you. you pull away from his dick to moan when another finger follows immediately, but he stops you with the hand planted on the back of your head– gently urging you back to him with a "shhh".
you continue like this for minutes more, your mouth filled with his heavy weight and his two fingers switching between shallow and deep pumps. but michael grows frustrated with the angle quickly, ignoring your whimper as he removes his fingers and grips the thigh resting on top, pulling it up until your legs are spread like a 'v'.
the upper half of your body stays the same, still sideways in his lap, but with your ass now against the couch cushion michael can sneak his hand over your stomach and right between your legs– wasting no time returning his fingers to where you need him the most. his palm presses firm against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, satisfied now that he can easily hit that spot that makes your whole body tense. you mewl around his dick, the vibration making him hiss through his teeth as you start grinding against his hand in pure desperation.
it doesn't take long for that knot to tighten deep in your belly– and wanting so badly to bring him there with you, you drop your hand to his balls and fondle them. you cup your hand around them and bring your mouth down to suck them in quickly, before going back to bobbing along his length, making sure your tongue licks at his balls with each drop.
"f-fuck yes— m'close," he groans, muscles of his stomach tightening at that familiar feeling. "this s'what our friendship needed, h-huh, mama? —be so much closer after."
you can't answer with words, only with a muffled moan as your grinding becomes more urgent– and when michael adds one last finger and presses his palm against your clit harder, the knot in your belly snaps, wave after wave crashing over you as your pussy clenches around his fingers. the squelching grows louder as he fingers you through your release.
"g-gonna," is the only warning he can give you as you feel the first pulse of his seed on your tongue. you swallow around him, taking what you can, but there's almost too much. you pull him from your mouth with a 'pop!', stroking him with your hand as the last few spurts cover your face. his cum drips down your cheek, across your chin, and you keep your mouth open– tongue hanging out to catch what you can.
michael's fighting to keep his eyes open, whines falling from his lips and chest heaving, as he watches his release paint your face.
if he thought the sight of you earlier was a wet dream– then the sight of you now was heaven on earth; shorts pushed all the way down to your ankles and his fingers still buried deep inside you, pussy lips glistening, bare breasts spilling out of the top of your tank, and your face flushed and covered in him as you meet his eyes.
Production sitting there thinking fuck sake weve got to get her a plan B
Also they have a debrief with production after stuff, including the hideaway. Why am I melting at the thought of Jermajesty when hes having his asking them to sort her one so she doesnt have to worry 🥹🥹🥹 and then both are politely reminded about the condoms available 🤣
wait omg islanders have to debrief the hideaway?? LMFAOOO aw nah they would have to catch me. the way i would leave that room pretending it never happened.
production said fuck the plan b, they're plotting on the first ever hideaway baby ☠️
Hey queen can you make a story about jermajesty x reader at a chris brown concert and chris brings her on stage for take you down and jer gets jealous. That’s only if you like chris cause ik a lot of people don’t like him 😭😭😭😭😭
i unfortunately hate chris brown with everything in me BUT i will post this for someone else to see and write! sorry baby 💗💗
how do people become close with others on here are ppl ok with random private messages/interacting a lot on posts because i've been really IA but i would love to be friends with ppl on here 😭‼️ genuinely asking
Not in the way you knew somebody because you shared a class with them in high school, followed each other on Instagram, or even had a few mutual friends. No, you were the kind of girl people knew without ever actually knowing you.
The way you carried yourself–from your looks, hygiene, style, intelligence, the way you spoke, even the way you walked into a room. Everything about you screamed effortless. You never had to look for attention, attention found you.
When it comes to men? That was a whole different story.
Your roster was impeccable, obviously. You weren’t committed to anybody and weren't pretending to be. Your parents claimed it was time for you to ‘settle down’, get married, and start a family which you didn’t see yourself doing anytime soon. There was always somebody texting you, waiting for you, or someone convincing themselves that they would be the one for you.
Then there was Jermajesty.
You’d known him for years, mostly through a few mutual friends and the fact that you knew his older brother. He had his own reputation, his own roster, his own collection of groupies girls who swore they could handle him. He was always used to being the one with the upper hand. Used to being the one playing the game instead of getting played.
You both followed each other for a while, liked each other’s posts here and there, maybe exchanged a few words if they happened to be in the same place.
Nothing serious.
Until one night, he replied to your story.
It wasn't anything special. Just a little comment that clearly had intentions to start something.
You entertained it.
One conversation turned into a few. A few turned into late night calls and sneaky-links, and before either of them had any time to reconsider their choices, it became a regular thing.
No feelings, no expectations, and definitely no relationship.
Just two people who knew exactly what they were getting into. For a good amount of time, it worked perfectly.
Until he got a little too comfortable.
Because he was used to how things would go with girls. He knew how to pull them in, give them attention, take it away, make them wonder, make them chase. It was practically second nature to him. Eventually, he decided to try that same game plan with you. But Jermajesty forgot one very important detail.
You knew how to play too.
And unlike him, you had no problem proving it.
Coming Soon...
a/n: Writing this because those girls need to learn how to play the same game that nigga playing 🙄 Also, comment if you would like to be tagged! Lmk if I should start a taglist too
Synopsis: Your son Charlie has won a chance of a lifetime to tour Michael Jacksons Neverland factory for a day with four other children. What happens when you catch the chocolatier's eye and attention?
Notes: This is my first series! I've been imagining Michael as Willy Wonka for so long and I remembered that I can actually write about it hehe. This will follow the 2005 movie but of course with my own spin on it. Its crazy because as I was creating moodboards and stuff I remembered that he did not like chocolate...welp good thing this is fiction hehe!
Series moodboard(s)
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2:
Chapter 3:
Chapter 4:
Chaper 5:
Chapter 6:
Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! :)
⊱ you and jermajesty are chosen to spend a night in the hideaway.
18+ mdni, loveislandau!, softdom jermajesty, dirty talk, kissing, slight dry humping, unprotected sex, creampie, pussy eating, fingering, sex under blanket, multiple rounds mentioned but not written, black fem reader. wc: 4k
part of my bombshell series, but you don't need to read that to read this <3
the second you stepped foot through the hideaway doors, you lost all bravado. as confident as you were in general, it felt like you'd just been pushed into a portal.
it was such a contrast to the space you'd spent the last few weeks in. even though the interior of the hideaway was a different atmosphere entirely –the red and gold a sharp contrast to the soft green's and blue's you were used to– it was the near-total privacy that you were struggling with the most.
you didn't know what to do with yourself.
you'd walked in ahead of jermajesty, silk robe brushing his arm as he holds the door open for you, and headed straight for the tiled walls. with one hand, you trace the wall as you walk along it, looking around in awe… and, well, you were stalling your ass off.
and when you ran out of wall to trace, you perched yourself right on the edge of the bed– back straight, hands pressed together between your knees.
jermajesty, on the other hand, is calm and collected. he's wondering around the room casually, taking in the space like he's got all the time in the world. he checks the champagne chilling in a bucket tucked in the corner, runs his hand along the edge of the side table, glances up at the two visible cameras with their blinking red lights.
the whole time, he's very aware of you.
he can feel your eyes tracking him as he moves, can see from the corners of his eyes how your knees press together even more when he gets closer to the bed before drifting away again. you still won't look at him directly, but every time he glances at you, your eyes dart away from him and you let out another one of those nervous little laughs. you're nodding along to what he's saying, but he knows damn well you're not hearing a word of it.
he bites back a grin. you just need a minute to settle in, he knows this, but this side of you is so endearing that he can't help but tease you just a little.
jermajesty drifts over to a shelf against the wall furthest from the bed, still mindlessly talking as a way to combat your nerves. there's a jar of condoms perched on the top shelf, but his eyes lock on the large red box sitting below it. he has to fight to keep his face neutral when he pries it open– coming face to face with handcuffs, blindfolds, massage oil…
"ma," reaching in, he pulls out a baby pink wand and turns, waving it between two fingers like it's bait. there's a lazy smile on his face as he asks, "you ever use one of these before?"
and it gives him the reaction he's hoping for– a dramatic eye roll and reluctant smile. "maj," he feels even more accomplished when your hands leave the cage of your knees. "stop fucking around in these people's things."
"mm, must be a yes." he grins, dropping the toy back in the box and shutting it. but he doesn't place it back on the shelf; instead, he wordlessly carries it to the bed and places it on the floor.
jermajesty sits, legs spread straight out and back propped up against the headboard. you're watching with your lip pulled between your teeth as he shifts closer to the middle, before catching your eye.
"c'mere."
your body is moving before your mind can, climbing onto the bed fully and crawling over to where he waits. when you stop directly next to him, ass resting on the heels of your feet and knees pressed into the mattress, he shakes his head. there's movement at the edge of your vision and your eyes follow– catching his hand trailing from his stomach to his thigh.
he stops it there, lifting it enough to bring it back down twice.
pat, pat.
it's obvious what he wants you to do; where he wants you to be. and like clockwork, your body is moving again before your mind can– bringing one bare thigh over his lap and settling directly on top of him, stripping the distance between you.
jermajesty's hands are on you in an instant, sliding up the smooth brown of your thigh until they rest over the silk of your robe. with the minimal layers between you, the matching lace thong your only protection, you can feel everything.
you avoid his gaze like it's a nine-to-five, hands planted on his chest for balance even though you don't need any help with it.
when he says your name, you only hum in reply, still looking at the threads of the white shirt he wears. he doesn't speak again until taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up; your eyes finally meeting his. "you know we don't gotta do anything you're not comfortable with, right?"
the mixture of soft, genuine concern on his face and the firm, forceful hold on your chin has you shifting your hips down the tiniest bit– under the pretense of just getting comfortable.
"i know, baby," you whisper, the consequence of your movement rippling through you. there's a dizzying heat spreading up your spine and over the apples of your cheeks. greedily, your repeat the movement; watching jermajesty's eyes drop to the covered space between your legs and trail over the curve of your breasts, back to your eyes. his thumb strokes the line of your jaw, but it's the only movement he offers you.
just like the morning you make breakfast together, he's giving you an out; handing all of the control to you and waiting to see what you decide.
and you decide you don't want an out.
your hands on his chest slide up, over the fabric of his white shirt until your fingers curl around the back of his neck. the distance is closing between the two of you quickly when you promise, "i'm comfortable." against the plush of his lips.
you don't give him a chance to question it; leaning down to close the final bit of space between you.
the kiss starts soft– your lips pressing against his more gently than anything. but the second he responds, the second his mouth opens against yours and his hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, the tenderness fades.
it's a fight for control before anything else. at one point you come so close to gaining that power, deepening the kiss with every slow sweep of your tongue, but jermajesty doesn't let you. he tilts your head back, controlling the angle and pace until every attempt to take the lead melts into a gasp. and when you try to pull back to catch your breath, he follows– stealing the space between you before you can even really create it.
you lose the fight for dominance quickly.
his free hand roams around your body until it finds its place on your ass, gripping enough to make you press into him harder. he pulls you down, grinding you against him– and when he sucks your tongue into his mouth, the feeling is so overwhelming that you can't stop the moan that escapes. the sound seems to snap something in him.
in one swift motion, he's flipping you– your back hitting the mattress as he settles between your thighs. you're pressed into the bed, suspended by the weight of his body as his mouth stays on you the entire time, kissing you like he's trying to memorize the taste of you.
when he finally pulls away, you're both breathing hard, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you try to catch your breath. he doesn't give you long to recover.
his lips trail down your jaw, slow, and you tilt your head back instinctively– giving him full access to your neck. he licks a stripe up to the space just below your ear and your hands clench at the waistband of his pants. sucking gently at the sensitive skin, his teeth grazes just enough to make you shiver but not hard enough to leave a mark.
he's directly next to your ear when he murmurs, "tell me you want this."
his voice has you biting your lip with the heat that pools low in your belly. your hands find their place on his neck– pulling him back to your lips and kissing him again before you reply, "want it so bad, baby."
he groans at that –deep, guttural– and kisses you with a renewed intensity. you're so focused on the kiss, your head spinning with your eyes closed, that you don't notice when he reaches up. it's not until you feel the heat and see the low ambient lighting fade behind closed eyelids, that you realize what he's doing.
jermajesty breaks the kiss just long enough to grab your hand, guiding it to the edge of the blanket near your head. his fingers wrap around yours, pressing your palm flat against the fabric as he helps you pull it the final few inches– until you're both completely enveloped in a dark, camera-free cocoon.
"hold this," he kisses the corner of your mouth. "don't let it slip."
and all you can do is nod feverishly as he moves lower; his hands finding the tie of your robe and working it loose, silk falling open to reveal the black lace underneath. even in the darkness under the blanket, you can see the pure affection as he looks you over– the swell of your breasts, the curve of your waist, the color contrasting the rich tone of your skin. he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your breast, right where lace trim meets flesh.
he kisses over the fabric next, lips trailing across the lace; teasing. it's torturous, the way he avoids your pebbled peak, placing open mouthed soft kisses around it. when you whisper his name, he only hums in response– a satisfied sound. he knows exactly what he's doing.
finally, jermajesty kisses directly over your nipple; and even through the fabric the feeling has you arching off of the bed, pulling him closer when he does it again, slower, then opens his mouth to lick you through the lace. the wet heat of his tongue makes you bite down on your lip to keep from crying out.
pulling the lace down– just enough to free your breasts, he wraps his lips around your nipple, sucking gently before his tongue flicks over the sensitive peak. at the same time as he switches to your other breast, sucking and grazing his teeth gently, he reaches a hand lower and lower– until he's cupping the heat of you in his palm.
even with your legs raised around jermajesty and leaving openings in the blanket for air to seep through, the space around you is warming up rapidly; so having more confidence than you should, you push the blanket down to your neck– freeing your face from the cocoon. though it doesn't take long for your hands to let it go completely as he presses his own hand down, rubbing against your clit.
and because of it, when he starts to move lower, open-mouthed kisses trailing down your stomach, the blanket goes with him and he reaches up to catch it before your bare chest can be exposed to the camera.
"what'd i say?"
you don't get a chance to reply, because he's already passed the top of the blanket back to you to hold and returned his hand to where you crave him the most. you only release a shaky breath as he presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles before he hooks his finger into the waistband of your panties and pulls them down.
his breath fans over you when he asks again, "what did i say?"
your fingers tighten in the blanket, now back over your head. "don't let it sli-oh f-fuck—!"
his mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, tongue licking a long, slow stripe up the slick of your folds before swirling around your clit– eyes fluttering at the taste of your arousal. he'd be lying if he said he hadn't been itching to get his mouth on you again, and you'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it, too– every day since.
it's almost too much when he wraps his lips around the bundle of nerves and sucks, flicking the tip of his tongue. your hips instinctively buck up, a drawn out moan leaving you. one hand leaves the blanket and rushes to his hair, paving a way through his curls for your fingers to rest, grip, push, and repeat. you throw your head back when you feel one of his fingers against your wet folds, coating himself before inching it inside of you slowly. you can feel the spread of his lips, a gradual smirk, against your sex at your reaction. you whine when he leans up, but cut yourself off when another finger joins the first, pushing in and out of you, then curling.
"that what you want, hm?" he gives you a lazy smile, pressing his hand closer –fingers deeper– so that his palm can stimulate your clit. "want me to fuck you with my fingers while i eat this pussy?"
"yes, yes— please,"
the hand in his hair is pushing down and he follows unabashedly, his mouth sealing over your sex again. the suction makes your thighs shake, his fingers still pumping slow and deep. when your hips start to rock –chasing the pressure and friction– he flattens his tongue and moans against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core.
his free hand grips your thigh hard, pulling you closer, encouraging the movement and you grind against his mouth– his tongue a flat, wet surface for you to ride. the blanket traps the heat and the sound; every wet slide of his tongue, every moan and whimper of his name. when he feels you clench, he doubles down, fingers pumping faster and pushing his tongue closer for you to grind against. your grip in his hair tightens but he doesn't stop or slow.
"m-maj!" is the only warning you can give before your orgasm hits you like a wave crashing, back arching off the bed and thighs clamping around his head. jermajesty doesn't let up, working you through every pulse and throb of your pussy until you're trembling and pushing weakly at his head.
still recovering from the stimulation, you don't see when he finally pulls back, lips glistening and eyes dark and satisfied– and definitely don't see when he pulls his pants down and settles between your legs. his eyes stay locked on your pussy, glistening and puffy from the abuse of his mouth and fingers, and he lets out a rough exhale.
one hand caresses the smooth, soft skin of your stomach as he asks, "still with me, baby?"
at your nod, jermajesty takes both hands from your body, using one to grip the base of his dick and the other to pull the hem of his shirt up to his mouth. you watch through fluttering lashes as he holds his shirt between his teeth, eyebrows furrowed as he keeps his eyes drawn to the space between your legs. you're salivating at the visual he's giving you– and even though you get a view of his toned stomach every day, seeing it like this is different. his hand runs down the heavy length of himself and his stomach contracts with every pass over his tip before he rubs his dick through the slick of your folds.
when his tip passes over your clit, just to double back and press against it harder, you can't keep your eyes from squeezing shut– your hips rising slightly from the sheets. he's teasing you, just to hear the tiny sounds you make as he presses against your entrance before pulling away again.
and when he finally pushes into you, slowly, you moan with every inch he gives you. he's only made it halfway when he groans around the fabric of his shirt and reaches a hand up to cover your mouth. but every nerve ending lights up as he fills you, the veins of him dragging along the ridges of your gummy walls perfectly– you can't help the sounds that still make it past his hand.
"fuck, yeeeees—!" you cry as he bottoms out, whines muffled.
jermajesty's shirt falls from his mouth as he removes his hand from covering your noises, just to probe at your lips with his fingers. when you open, he sticks three fingers in– a makeshift gag just for you. "you want all of america to hear you, huh, ma?" he pulls out until only his tip connects the two of you together and pushes back in slowly at the feeling of your swirling tongue. "gotta keep those pretty sounds in."
with one hand he grips your thigh, pushing it up and out and spreading you wide as he starts to fuck you– deep, punishing strokes that have your eyes rolling back. the sound is obscene, the filthy slapping of his skin meeting yours, the slick of your wetness coating him, dripping down the inside of your thigh and creating a small puddle under you.
and jermajesty just might be a hypocrite, because as he attempts to cover the sounds you make, he's moaning openly– eyebrows furrowed and curls hanging damp against his forehead. "fuuuuuck," he's torn between watching the fucked-out expression you wear –pretty, plump lips wrapped around his fingers and lids fluttering– and watching where you connect, white ring already coating the base of his dick. his eyes drift back down as the squelching gets louder, competing with the tiny whimpers leaving you. "i quiet your mouth and that pussy starts talking for me."
"oh— myyy godddd—" a keening mewl slips from your lips at his words, a string of drool pooling at the corner of your mouth and slipping down your cheek. it only spurs him on, hips snapping faster and harder, fucking into you with purpose.
"shit— so fucking good," he breathes, voice strained. his fingers leave your mouth, pulling his shirt off swiftly before migrating south– spreading wide as he pushes his palm against your lower stomach. you let out twin moans at the feeling; you, from the added pressure against your g-spot and him at the way your walls flutter and pulse around him.
then he's shifting, dropping down until his chest presses flush against yours– the chain around his neck cold against the flush of your skin. he pulls you into a sloppy, messy kiss, groaning against your lips as he rolls his hips deeper. you didn't have much to begin with, but you lose any semblance of control when he grips the back of your knees and pushes your legs up and over his shoulders.
"maj—!"
"i know, i know," he cooes, eyes locked on yours and hips driving forward, the wet slap of skin lewd in the quiet room. you try desperately to hold his gaze, but can't help the way your eyes threaten to close with each thrust. "this dick s'all yours, baby—" he rasps, brows furrowed as sweat beads along his temple. "whenever you want it, however you want it— shiiit, you hear me?"
"mmmhmmff—fuck!" you cry out, barely coherent. you squeeze your eyes shut as your legs tremble– beginnings of your second orgasm creeping up.
"speak up, ma."
"yesssss, maj," you whine, nails digging into his forearms. it takes everything in you to meet his eyes again. "s'all m-mine—!"
jermajesty's hips stutter as his breath hitches. "oohhh– shit, you gon' let me keep this pussy forever?"
"yes, yes, yes—" you're mindlessly babbling now, overwhelmed by how stuffed full you feel– the way he's looking at you like you're the only thing that exists.
he slows his thrusts down, digging into you deeper and dropping his forehead to yours when you clench around him and cry out. "thaaaat's right, take all that shit."
and having just felt you cum around his fingers– having just watched the way your eyebrows and mouth drop in tandem, he can tell you're close before you can even gather the strength to warn him. "y'gonna cum?" he whispers. "c'mon then, take what you need baby."
your body locks up, walls convulsing around him, and he brings his mouth to yours in a kiss you can barely reciprocate– swallowing every cry of his name as each wave rolls through you.
jermajesty moves your legs from his shoulders and returns to sinking himself into you, the faster pacing making you whine from overstimulation. he squeezes his eyes shut as his hips lose rhythm, uncoordinated and frantic.
"shiit, m'finna cum—" he groans, feeling himself getting closer and closer to the edge. but when he goes to lean up, fully intending on pulling out, you wrap both arms around his neck and both legs around his waist with a moan. "baby—" his hips stutter and he tries one final time to pull out. you block his attempt again, digging the heel of your foot into his lower back. "—ohhhh fuck—"
with his face in your neck, he buries himself to the hilt; moaning low and broken as his own release crashes through him. his hips give shallow, involuntary rocks as he fills you– thick ropes of warmth pulsing deep inside. you feel it all, the heat spreading and pooling as he keeps moving, each thrust pressing the mess back out around him; spilling between your bodies.
when he finally stills, you come back to reality gradually– pushing the blanket down to your hips to cool the sweat on your bodies. jermajesty presses soothing kisses to your neck, then your collarbone and shoulder while you lay; eyes closed, in bliss.
a few minutes later, you whine at the drag of him pulling out– maneuvering himself in a way that still blocks your body from the cameras as he pulls his boxers on. he pulls the covers back over you when he stands from the bed, grabbing his white shirt from the floor.
jermajesty turns back to you, still laying in the same spot with a content smile on your face. he chuckles as he works the shirt so it isn't inside-out. "you okay, mama?"
with the shirt fixed, he leans back onto the bed and pulls the shirt over your head.
your smile grows bigger, "more than okay."
he holds the cover up, once again protecting your body, as you work your arms through the shirt and down. when it's finally on, he scoops you up bridal-style.
"woah, woah–" you laugh, scrambling to keep the shirt covering you as he walks toward the bathroom. "why? i was comfy."
he scoffs through his own smile, meeting your eyes as he kicks the bathroom door open. "you need to pee all that nut out of you before jerhighness and jeroyalty come to life."
you're back in the room in no time; jermajesty climbing into bed first and looking up at you expectantly. you follow, but instead of settling in beside him, you drape yourself completely over his chest– legs tangling with his and head fitting below his chin. you can feel the exhaustion creeping through you with every circle he rubs into your back, but you refused to sleep as the two of you whispered back and forth– content in your intimate little bubble.
though, when you remember what was resting on the side of the bed, the exhaustion slips away.
you wordlessly sit up in his lap and reach over, ignoring the confused look on his face as he asks, "where you going?".
your fingers find the box jermajesty brought over earlier, pulling it closer and digging through it quickly. you find what you're looking for and pull them out, holding the black silk and fuzzy pink up in front of you, watching his reaction unfold in real time.
and feeling his reaction– an unmistakable twitch from inside his boxers.
you grin down at him, tilting your head cheekily. "round two?"
pairing: jermajesty jackson x black fem!reader
summary: surprise, you and jermajesty become parents! one lucky couple is chosen to go to the hideaway.
cw: loveisland!au, use of n word, no other warnings, half proofread, 4.9k words.
a/n: special shoutout to @ifthistown for bringing this challenge up so long ago <3 im so happy you reminded me and i was cheesinggg writing this lmao
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when you wake up to high-pitched screaming and crying, you think that you might actually be in hell.
jermajesty stirs beside you, leaning up and wrapping an arm around your waist. the room is still pitch-black around you, but you can see the other islanders in the same boat as the two of you– confused as they look around the room, mumbling below the monotonous screaming.
"what the hellll–!" you grumpily shout, one eye squinted open as you search for the source of the sound. when you catch sight of a random wicker basket resting on the ottoman at the end of your bed, you're on that immediately.
crawling onto your knees and inching forward, you grab the basket with the tips of your fingers and toss it somewhere to the left before throwing yourself back onto your pillows. jermajesty, approving of your method even as the screaming grows more frantic (it's far enough away now that you don't care), lays back with you, pulling the blanket over both of your heads as you cuddle into him.
but jermajesty's more curious than a fucking cat, because two minutes later he's crawling out of the bed to investigate with the other islanders. you stay under the cover for as long as you can, only peeking from under it when a hand wraps around your ankle from above. "hmm?" you hum sleepily.
"ma, you're about to get cancelled." jermajesty whispers, tilting his head to the left.
you follow the direction he indicates and see the way his arm is suspended in the air. dangling from his hand is…
a baby doll?
you're both staring as the baby slowly spins upside down from the two-finger grip jermajesty has, still crying, before you look back at each other. jermajesty folds over at the same time as you, laughing your asses off.
"oh, fuck–" you groan dramatically, replaying you throwing the baby in your head. "cut the footage."
"i'm safe," jermajesty laughs, holding his free hand up in defense. "i'm not the one who threw it."
"you literally just called the baby 'it'." you roll your eyes, swinging your legs over the bed and taking the baby doll from his hands. the other islanders are grabbing their own babies from the baskets at the end of their bed when the lights finally cut on. it only takes a few blinks to adjust, and when your eyes land on where you and his basket still lays on the ground, you gasp. "jermajesty."
"what?"
but he answers his own question when he walks over with you and catches the second baby doll laying on the floor in disarray. one blue baby sock and matching bonnet is strewn inches away. he bends down, scooping the crying baby up and mimicking the way you cradle and sway the one in your arms.
deanna and isaac sit on the edge of the bed next to yours, disassociated as they look into their basket of three screaming baby dolls. you don't even get the chance to laugh as the sound of a text rings out.
keem grabs his phone from the nightstand, throwing his head back in despair when he reads the text to himself, before reading it aloud:
"'goodmorning islanders, you are now parents for the day. enjoy your new bundles of joy.'"
"maj, she's crying!" you mumble around your toothbrush, gesturing to where the babies lay in their wicker baskets. the two –four– of you are gathered in the bathroom, getting ready as a family.
"what am i supposed to do?" he replies around his own toothbrush, giving you an exasperated look in the mirror. you look away so that you don't laugh as you order him to rock her. he listens without hesitation, scooping up the crying baby with one arm and maneuvering her to rest over his shoulder. he pats at the hard plastic of her back awkwardly. "there, there."
you have to bend over the sink as you burst out laughing, damn near choking on your toothpaste.
when you're both finished brushing, and both babies are finally sleeping quietly, you carry them and all of their items downstairs. you settle next to jermajesty on a couch, both of you in your pajamas still– including your matching satin bonnets.
emphasis on your; because jermajesty had taken your spare bonnet the night of your first recoupling and never gave it back.
you're debating names as the two of you sit in front of the basket, blank name sheet hanging from the handles. jermajesty has hated every name you've thrown out, but he especially hated the two you wanted the most.
"no, bruh." jermajesty sighs.
"please! please, please, please– it has to be this." you beg between giggles. you throw your body across his lap and he moves to tickle your sides. "please–!"
"shhh," he cuts your giddy scream off, smiling down at you despite his attempt to act annoyed. "you're bouta wake them."
"and i will if you don't let me have this." you threaten, raising an eyebrow at him.
"you could name them anything else," and you already know where this is heading, because this is the third time he's attempted to change your mind. your mouth is open and prepared to decline as he starts again, "imani?"
"no."
"ayana?"
"no."
"isaiah."
"no."
"carte–"
"noooo," you cut him off, pouting up at him from your place, still, in his lap. "just gimme what i want… please?"
and he can never win when he's up against that face. you know it, too, by the way you smile and sit up straight at his silence. you're grabbing the wet erase marker before the words "alright, baby," even leave his mouth fully. uncapping the blue marker, you lean over and write a name– doing the same with the pink marker.
you lean back to admire the 'birth certificate', ignoring jermajesty's look of, very obviously faked, displeasure.
BIRTH CERTIFICATE
MY NAME IS:
jerhighness
BIRTH CERTIFICATE
MY NAME IS:
jeroyalty
every couple takes turns getting ready for the day– the girls watching the babies as the boys get dressed and make breakfast, and the boys watching the babies as the girls get dressed and do makeup/hair. when everyone meets again, it's in the garden area for a terrible parenting class run by…
surprise, surprise– you and jermajesty.
you stand at the front with jermajesty by your side, way too excited for your role as you hold up a whiteboard reading 'PARENTING 101'. you're both in sunglasses as you look over your audience of ten.
"alright y'all listen up! you guys need some serious fucking help. luckily, you have us."
and the other islanders aren't exactly sure what you mean by that, because it's obvious the two of you just might be the least qualified.
first on your agenda: attempting to show the rest of the islanders the proper feeding and burping technique– with you speaking and jermajesty demonstrating with your baby boy, jeroyalty. your baby girl, jerhighness, sleeps peacefully in her stroller.
"first things first," you start, gesturing to jermajesty who's standing confidently. "mom and pops, pick up your babies and hold them at an angle. then grab your bottle and hold it to their mouths…" jermajesty demonstrates by holding the baby horizontally, neck beyond unprotected, and wedging the bottle between jeroyalty's lips. when jermajesty moves his hand, the bottle stays exactly upside down– stuck in your son's mouth. you only shrug, not seeing the issue. "i mean it's lowkey common sense."
you eye every one as they follow jermajesty's demonstration, nodding your approval before moving on to burping.
"now, you should all know about burping." you point a finger at each of them. "hold that baby up, head over your shoulder and pat the fuck out of that back."
"language, ma," jermajesty chastises as he shifts jeroyalty to the position, the bottle still stuck in his mouth. "the babies can hear you."
as much as you want to say 'fuck them kids', you keep your professionalism. only to lose it when you accept another impulsive thought. "sorry, daddy." you have to pause and turn to hide your laugh as every other islander groans. when you gather yourself, you turn back around. "everyone should be burping their baby slash babies."
with a quick walk around, you prompt shaun to "pat, not smack". you give another nod of approval when he corrects it, before moving onto the next thing on your agenda.
changing diapers.
jermajesty holds his hands out with his palms facing the sky, the perfect amount of space for jeroyalty to lay. basically, jermajesty is acting as your changing table as you demonstrate to the islanders.
you take the 'dirty' diaper off and toss it in the direction of the others, having to turn –along with jermajesty– to hide another laugh when elisa and keem dramatically shout and dodge it.
"now this is mostly for the men," you state as you grab a baby wipe. "make sure when you're wiping, it's front to back and never back to front. we clear?"
you get a chorus of agreement before moving on to put the new and clean diaper on backwards, not even noticing. sarah is the one who brings it to your attention, though jermajesty replies for you.
"we did that on purpose. seein' if you're paying attention."
when you successfully put the diaper on and hold jeroyalty up for everyone to see, he starts to scream and cry. jermajesty looks disgruntled when he asks, "why is it crying? nigga just got fed and changed."
"he, jermajesty." you roll your eyes, but then cringe when the screaming gets louder. you hold jeroyalty out for jermajesty to grab, and turn to the other islanders. "this is actually perfect, cause next on the list is soothing slash rocking. now don't be scared to move your arms and body together, as long as baby is being held correctly you'll be okay–" and you give jermajesty a dirty look when he starts to bounce jeroyalty as if they're on a wooden rollercoaster. "–please, don't piss me off. you rocked him this morning, maj, slow the fuck down. acting like you don't know shit."
but you're both at a loss when two full minutes of rocking later, jeroyalty is still crying– which causes a few of the babies in the crowd to cry as well. jermajesty passes your son to you as the crying grows more frantic, and you pass him back just as quickly. you guys lowkey start tossing jeroyalty back and forth until deanna shouts, "try skin to skin!"
jermajesty lifts his shirt immediately, even as you're wearing a sporty set that shows a bit of your stomach, and you laugh as you press the baby to his chest.
that doesn't work either.
"wait, try a lullaby," you speculate.
when jermajesty starts to hum and sing lowly, it's the only thing that stops jeroyalty's crying; and honestly, it puts you in a trance, too. after a few seconds, the other islanders that have crying babies start to line up in front of him, and he passes jeroyalty to you to hold.
one by one, he sings every baby to sleep. when there's no cries lingering in the air, you make a bad decision and open your mouth to sing to jeroyalty in your arms.
he starts to scream and sob immediately.
jermajesty gives you a dirty look, and you turn the other way– pretending not to see him at all.
and to further prove you and jermajesty were terrible fake parents, your last few hours with the twins go a little like this…
after you both wanted to do separate things (you wanted to take an everything shower and jermajesty wanted to get a work-out in), you attempt to take your babies to deanna and isaac to babysit.
they'd both showed contempt at the thought of being stuck with five babies for an hour. you'd never heard someone say "fuck no" faster in your life. in the end, jermajesty offers to take the babies with him to the gym area while you enjoy your 'baby break'– his words, not yours.
but when you found him after, jermajesty was facing away from them on one of the machines, and they were both strewn on the bare ground– in the sun.
"maj…" you sigh, bringing a hand to rub at your temple.
"hi, mama," he smiles hearing your voice, dropping the weights and getting up to hug you. you push him away immediately, smacking your teeth.
"boy, move– you're sweaty and you have my babies on the floor."
"what?" he asks, gesturing to them. "it's tummy time."
"whole time jerhighness is on her back."
"…it's back time for her."
you give him a blank look, but he catches the small quirk in the corners of your lips. without a reply, you push past him to lift jerhighness into your arms.
"have you changed them?"
"no. my bad, baby." he grabs the baby bag from the handle of the stroller and brings it to where you're now sitting. plopping down beside you, he opens the bag and brings out two diapers– but as you go to grab the one he's holding out for you, you catch the mischievous smile growing on his face. you raise your eyebrow in question.
there's a pause before he asks, "…wanna race?"
"just childish." you shake your head in disbelief.
"you're fucking cheating, maj!"
he folds over in laughter, so proud of himself for ripping the diaper out of your hands the second you counted from five to one and tossing it behind you.
but he stops laughing quick when you grab jeroyalty from his hands and hold him to your stomach– bending your body over him so that jermajesty can't snatch him back. and he sure as hell tries.
he's got half his weight on your body and both arms wrapped around you in an attempt to grab his son, but you're not budging. "go get the fucking diaper and i'll let go, jermajesty." you demand, laughing hysterically at his struggle.
"nah, imma get my son back. trust."
you hold your own for a little longer– though all it takes is a few pokes to your side for you to spasm, arms loosening enough for jermajesty to snatch jeroyalty and scoot away from you quickly. you stand in outrage as he puts the diaper on within two seconds.
"that doesn't count, nigga!" you shout. and regret it, because jerhighness starts to cry from where she rests in front of you.
you sigh, shoulders folding inward as you go back to your mommy duties and pick her up to soothe. jermajesty cackles to your right.
but you get your revenge soon enough, as the four of you lay in soul ties.
well, really, you lay in soul ties cuddling both of your babies while jermajesty sits to the side– pouting at you. and with every minute that you ignore him, his pout grows deeper and deeper.
until finally, he speaks up. "you've been holding them for fifteen minutes."
"well, yeah." you side eye him. "they're my babies."
it's silent for another few minutes, and thinking that he'd said all he wanted to, you lay your head back and close your eyes. you open them again when he says, "…i'm your baby, too."
you turn your head to him fully for the first time since you'd come up. even though the frown on his face makes your heart flip, you laugh. but he doesn't find shit funny.
"yeah, you might be heartless."
you're still laughing when you say, "you're competing with two plastic dolls, by the way."
apparently, that's his last straw. jermajesty turns away from you, folding his arms across his chest comically. he doesn't say anything, but he doesn't need to– because his silence is loud as hell. you bite your lip to keep from smiling, laying your head back and closing your eyes again. you rock the babies gently, but you can feel the energy radiating from the side of the bed he sits on. every few seconds, he lets out an exaggerated sigh. and when that doesn't work, he shifts his position, making sure he moves as dramatically as possible. you open one eye every so often to peak over at him, finding him in the same spot each time.
you adjust one of your babies, coo at them softly, and ignore the way jermajesty starts to bounce his leg. he clears his throat once, then twice, and you glance at him with raised eyebrows. he won't meet your eyes.
you let the silence stretch for another minute before you lean up, carefully setting jerhighness and jeroyalty down on the cushion beside you. then you turn to face him fully.
his eyes flicker toward you and away again.
"oh, come here, you big ass baby."
his pout disappears in seconds, replaced by the brightest smile. he practically scrambles closer to you, scooping you up and pulling you into his lap before you can even process it.
but you settle in quickly, melting into his body the way you always do as he wraps both arms around you. you're sitting in the peace for a few minutes before you raise your head to look at him. "hear me out," you start, "hypothetically, if we left fiji, went home, and kept… you know, whatever it is we're doing–"
"talking? dating?" jermajesty supplies, cutting off your train of thought. honestly, you were just going to ask him if, further down the line, you ended up being married with kids– who would be the 'fun parent' and who would be the 'strict parent'. but you liked the direction of this conversation a lot more.
"is that what we're doing?"
"i mean, i hope so," he leans his head back, but doesn't break eye contact with you. "unless you got another nigga waiting for you when we touch down."
you roll your eyes. "i'm asking you, maj."
he hums, looking down at you. "i don't know what we're supposed to call it yet. we don't have to rush anything–" you start to look away in disappointment, but he stops you with a hand to your chin immediately. "–that you aren't comfortable with." he gives you a pointed look when you finally meet his eyes again. "but i know what i want."
"what do you want?"
"i wanna keep being yours. not just in here, not when it's a thousand cameras watching our every move, or when the outcome of us is based on what america thinks. i wanna be yours when we get home and we're back to every day life. i meant it when i said i wanna share all my favorite spots with you, for all my favorite people to meet my favorite girl." his thumb moves over your chin, slowly. "but i also know how much real life can affect people after being in places like this. you never know if your friends or… or your family don't approve of us, you know? and if that was a deal breaker for you, then…" he trails off, shoving that thought to the back of his mind. "i'm just tryna say that i'm yours, baby. we can figure everything out when we leave, but whatever title we put on it later– i'm yours."
for a second, you just hold his eyes silently. there are so many emotions swirling through you at once, that it's hard to pinpoint and focus on just one. his words are settled somewhere deep in your chest, warming the blood in every inch of your body. sometimes it surprised you, because even with how much jermajesty joked around, he was so much more emotionally mature than he let on… especially when you'd first entered the villa.
"you really thought about all that?" you ask quietly.
jermajesty's expression softens. "yeah, baby. i thought about it all."
"even my family possibly not liking you?"
"especially that." he laughs huskily. "i mean, i'd like it if they liked me– but i'm not expecting it. i put you through some shit–"
"and i put you through shit in return–"
he snorts. "… so we made some decisions that probably only make sense to us."
"that's one way to put it, i guess."
"but if they got questions, i'll answer them. if they think i'm not good enough, i'll show them i know how to take care of you. i'm gonna show them i'm more than those dumbass choices i made." he promises. "and if they still don't like me, then… imma just keep doing my best until they get tired of hating me."
the laugh slips out of you before you can stop it, but it fades when you look at him again. "i want you too, baby." you admit. "i don't know what we're gonna call it when we get home, either. and i don't know how easy it's gonna be once everybody gets involved. but i know that i want it to be you and me taking it all on, together. i told you that it was always going to be you. no one else could even come close to meaning what you've meant to me in such a short time."
the words don't even have time to settle before he gives you the sweetest smile, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you carefully– passing promises to you with every breath you share. and it's a common theme between you two– being so extremely happy and content that you can barely press your lips together without grinning into one another, having to pull apart to recalibrate.
the kiss had just grown deeper and longer when–
WAAAAHHHHHH!
both babies start screaming at the exact same time, their cries piercing through the moment like an alarm. and maybe it is an alarm, because you definitely wanted to do something crazy right in front of these cameras after hearing what he'd said to you.
with the producer's news of only thirty minutes remaining with your son and daughter, jermajesty and you find yourself in the photobooth to commemorate the day.
"hurry, hurry–" you urge, holding the sweater you wear out as jermajesty shoves shirts into it. he finishes just in time, pulling you down into his lap and throwing two hands around you to hold your 'belly'… which is just all of the shirts. but it does the trick and you look pregnant as you both smile at the camera.
as soon as the flash cuts off, you're both up– ripping the shirts from your sweater and throwing them out of the photobooth. you pick up a baby each from the floor –sorry jerhighness and jeroyalty– and cradle them in your arms, sitting side by side. you both give the camera shocked looks.
when the flash cuts off again, you hold your babies up between you as you each turn and press a kiss to the babies' cheeks.
for the final picture, you probably take it too far as you each dangle the babies in the air by one foot while smiling– a tribute to your first moments together.
so it comes as no surprise when an hour later, all of the islanders are lounging around the pool baby-less as the text comes in. elisa and keem are crowned as the couple who parented their baby the best. another text is sent, listing deanna/isaac, milene/shaun, and sarah/ruben as the couples who passed the parenting challenge.
and the last text is sent listing asia/simon and you and jermajesty as the couples who failed.
they're right, but you and jermajesty still take offense to it.
that night, the producers throw all of you another mixer/mingling party– and this one might be the most successful because everyone is visibly relieved to be free from parenthood. the energy from the last mixer was great, but this one is ten times better– lighter, more celebratory. there's jokes about how they're traumatized from the day, and then jokes about how jerhighness and jeroyalty are probably more traumatized than all of them combined.
with the chaotic, eventful few days all of you have had– you're genuinely surprised when your phone chimes from where it sits in front of you. you scoop it from the table, squinting at the screen, and everyone is on you the moment your expression shifts.
you wave them off, pressing a hand over your dropped jaw. you don't need to scream that you got a text, because all twelve of you are still in the same space.
"'islanders, the hideaway is now open. please choose one couple to spend a private night together.'"
"oh shit!" asia shouts amongst the others.
but deanna's shout of "(name) and jermajesty!" is the loudest of everyone.
it doesn't take long at all for sarah and ruben to second it, milene and shaun to third it, and so on… until every other couple has voted for the two of you. you look over at jermajesty, the two of your wearing matching sly grins, before you squeal and jump into his arms. every other islander gathers around you, cheering.
finally, the girls manage to pull you away from him– dragging you up to the glam room as the boys drag him to the bedroom.
the girls are in your closet and drawers in a heartbeat, pulling out item after item of potential hideaway outfits. you're basically a mannequin, stuck to one section of the room as they hold pieces up to your body– debating for a second before throwing it into a yes, maybe, or no pile. ten full minutes pass before they settle on a lacy bra and panty set, covered by what might be the world's shortest silk robe. on each corner of the robe is a slit higher than you've ever seen, and the bottom of the robe is detailed with lace soft-to-the-touch.
when the girls are done prepping you, they step back and make you hit a cat-walk– cheering at the way your ass peeks through the bottom of the robe with every switch of your hips.
you check yourself one final time in the mirror as the girls rush downstairs to join the boys near the pool. taking a deep breath, you open the door to the glam room and start your own walk down the stairs, to where jermajesty stands– waiting for you.
BEACH HUT (PRE-HIDEAWAY CONFESSIONAL)
the camera cuts to you with your head in your hands. "got rid of two babies just to go make some more, guys." you raise your head, tapping a finger against your chin 'in thought'. "which do y'all think flows off the tongue better? jergrace? jerhonorable? jerexcellency?"
MINI MOMENTS WITH YOU, MAJ, JERHIGHNESS, AND JEROYALTY
it's the moment after the two of you brush your teeth, as jerhighness is still crying against jermajesty's shoulder.
"she might be hungry, mama." he mumbles, looking at you. "you gotta feed her."
"shit, you might be right, baby" you're pressing a smile down as you take your daughter with one hand, reaching the other out to lift jermajesty's shirt. in one fluid motion, you hold jerhighness to his nipple.
jermajesty is confused for a split second before falling over himself with laughter. "man, move. always playing too much."
⋆｡𖦹 𓇼 ｡⋆
you'd been in soul ties listening to the crying babies for fifteen minutes when you sighed. "yeah, mommy needs a vacay."
jermajesty gave you an offended look. "daddy needs a vacay too."
"nigga, did you push them out of your pussy?"
"...bruh, did you?"
⋆｡𖦹 𓇼 ｡⋆
you're getting the babies ready for 'family yoga' when jermajesty hums as if he's proud of himself. when you look up, he's holding jerhighness up to you– now that she's fully dressed in the outfit jermajesty picked out.
and he picked out pure bullshit.
she wears a lime green hat, a purple shirt with pink unicorns, bright red shorts, and yellow shoes.
"a hot fucking mess, jermajesty." you sigh, rubbing your temples for the one hundredth time that day.
"what? i put effort into this one."
"well take it out."
⋆｡𖦹 𓇼 ｡⋆
and once she's finally in a better outfit, you join the other islanders near the pool for the 'family yoga' session, lead by milene and shaun. you start off following every instruction to a 't', but at some point you and jermajesty venture off course.
as everyone else is in the standing forward fold, you're folded over in a downward facing dog. and jermajesty? he's adjusting jeroyalty on your bottom– moving his legs and arms to mimick your yoga pose.
when jermajesty finally gets jeroyalty to stay balanced on top of you, you can't stop the giggles– which turns into full-fledged laughter when jeroyalty rolls right off your back and to the floor.
⋆｡𖦹 𓇼 ｡⋆
there's a small moment before the two of you found out that jermajesty's singing calms the babies, where jeroyalty is nonstop screaming. and even as the screaming continues on and on, you stay patient– feeding, changing, and then rocking him to sleep.
jermajesty watches you the entire time, wondering how entranced he'd be if you were soothing a real baby– considering he was this captivated by a baby doll. when jeroyalty is finally quiet, jermajesty walks over to you, wrapping both arms around your waist and burying his head in your neck. he presses to kisses to your warm skin before he whispers, "good job, mommy."
