PAIRING: late 70s!michael jackson x black!fem!reader
SUMMARY: inspired by this edit + this edit as well + in which you and Michael like each other, but are too shy to tell each other how you feel, so Michael’s brothers lock you and him in a closet and won’t let you leave until you properly clear the air. 🩷
AUTHOR’S NOTE: reading fics about Michael gave me motivation to write again & i’m so joyful to be back doing what i love 🤭
“Marlon!— no!— stop it!—” you squealed as you and Michael pushed against the closet door with all the strength both of you hand, trying to stop Marlon, Jermaine, and Tito from successfully closing the door on the two of you.
“uh-uh, y’all got business to handle! gon’ and get all that mushy out of y’all’s systems so everything can go back to normal!” Marlon remarked through boyish laughter as the three brothers suddenly shoved their body weight against the door in unison and the force sent you and Michael back from the door and tumbling to the ground, a yelp coming from you and a grunt coming from him while the two of you fell wrapped in each other’s limbs.
Michael’s brothers were known to toy with you and him, especially since it was obvious — to them, at least — that you and Michael had not-so secret feelings for each other, but three of them going as far as to shove you and him in a closet together was extremely embarrassing for both of you.
to be more specific, it was Marlon who dragged you to the closet and Jermaine who followed him with Michael in his arms, but it was Tito who held the closet door open for them to put both of you in there.
you and Michael had been friends since you were teenagers and spent much of your adolescence together, even going as far as sneaking out to see each other and hang out at odd times of the night. as time progressed, your bond grew stronger and the two of you were practically two peas in a pod, but somewhere along the way, things started to shift between the two of you.
it wasn’t very obvious, but it could be subtly felt. touches started lingering a bit more and eye contact felt different, almost as if layered with something deeper than platonic affection. the thin line between close friends and lovers was becoming blurred and neither of you realized it.
Jackie noticed it first, then Jermaine, and that’s when the rest of the Jackson brothers started piecing things together as well.
everyone knew Michael was shy at times, but you were no better than him. both of you were equally shy in your own ways, but especially when it came down to romantic feelings, relationships, or connections — truthfully, anything under the ‘romance’ umbrella made both of you very timid and quieter than usual.
so obviously, the Jackson brothers knew that you and Michael would never confess how you really felt about each other, so they decided to do what they do best: meddle.
“you okay?” the sound of Michael’s soft voice pulled you from your thoughts and you blinked as you looked up at him, realizing the fall had planted him right on top of you.
“yeah… y-yeah, i’m fine,” you answered softly as you searched his face for a moment and swallowed thickly, the confined space suddenly feeling smaller than before, “you?”
“i’m okay.” Michael reassured, a small shy smile creeping onto his face, as you instinctively smiled back and the two of you stood from the ground with each other’s help, both of you adjusting your clothing before you moved towards the door.
wrapping your fingers around the doorknob, you twisted it once, then twice, and your face dropped once you realized it was locked.
“hey!” you shouted with a huff as you let go of the doorknob and slapped the door with the palm of your hand instead, “y’all better open this doggone door!”
“not until y’all admit that y’all like each other!” Jermaine shouted back.
“and don’t lie ‘cause we all see how you look at him!” Marlon immediately added in, one of his infamous giggles slipping out mid-sentence.
“and Mike ain’t innocent either! boy be lookin’ like a lost puppy when you around!” Tito chimed in, causing the three brothers to erupt in laughter together.
huffing quietly, you took a step back from the door and leaned against the nearest wall as your gaze shifted to Michael, who was sheepishly covering his face with his hands — presumably due to the embarrassing statements from his brothers.
“…Mikey?” you called softly, your voice barely audible, as Michael peeked through his fingers and looked over at you before slowly — almost reluctantly — lowering his hands from his face, knowing that neither of you could avoid the conversation that was about to happen — at least, not anymore because of his meddling brothers.
“…yeah?” Michael answered back, his voice quieter than normal, as he slightly pursed his lips together before tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, a gesture he always managed to do when he was nervous.
you slightly parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out but quiet stammers that only fueled your embarrassment, causing a small comforting smile to form on Michael’s face.
“hey, hey, it’s okay… d-do you want me to go first instead?” Michael offered, finding your bashful stutters adorable, as your mouth closed and you slightly nodded, a shy smile spreading across your features.
“yeah, if, um… if that’s okay with you.” you finally managed to put a sentence together and crossed your arms across your chest to ease your nerves as Michael slowly nodded his head and swallowed hard, trying his hardest to maintain eye contact with you while he nervously toyed with the hem of his shirt.
“okay… okay, um… you know, we’ve been friends for a really long time now and, um, i really like spending time with you,” Michael spoke softer and more carefully, trying his best to stay calm in what he viewed as an embarrassing situation, “you… you make me feel so good inside. better than any other girl really has, honestly. so, um… i gotta’ tell you somethin’.”
you slightly stiffened and let out a quiet exhale as you slowly nodded your head, gesturing for him to continue while your arms slightly tightened around your chest, “…go ahead, Michael.”
“i…” Michael hesitated a bit, going quiet for a moment before exhaling shakily, “i like you… i really like you. and, um… my brothers been tellin’ me that you like me too, but i… i wanna hear it from you personally… please.”
Michael’s plea nearly made your knees buckle and you let out a soft breathless laugh filled with relief and lingering anxiety, a smile spreading across your face at his confession.
“oh, Mikey… i really like you, too. i wanted to tell you sooner, but i didn’t really know how to bring it up because the thought of it made me… nervous,” you admitted timidly as Michael smiled back at you and your arms slowly uncrossed, feeling the weight of your confession leave as quickly as it came, “i do hate that we had to confess like this, though… think i might have to fight your brothers after this.”
Michael giggled at your comment and you giggled with him, your combined laughter in the small room easing the lingering embarrassment in the air and causing both of your shoulders to slowly drop in unison.
“so… could i ask you somethin’?” Michael asked, his smile softening, as he took a small hesitant step towards you and you grinned a little before nodding your head.
“yeah. anything.”
“would, um… would you like to be my… girlfriend?” Michael asked bashfully, gently toying with the hem of his shirt again, as your eyes lit up and a wide smile quickly spread across your face, excitement overtaking you and completely diminishing any trace of shyness.
“yes! oh, yes, Michael!” you squealed as you suddenly threw your arms around Michael’s neck and pulled him into a tight embrace, catching him off guard and making him stiffen before he slowly melted in your embrace and reverently wrapped his arms around your waist.
Michael lowered his head into the crook of your neck and inhaled the scent of your perfume as his large hands splayed across your back, holding you against him while the two of you stood there silently holding each other and basking in the new beginning of your relationship — the shift from platonic to romantic sending gentle chills down your spine.
the two of you stood like that for a moment, your surroundings seemingly fading away the longer you were in each other’s arms, before Michael raised his head from the crook of your neck to properly look down at you, prompting you to raise your head from his shoulder.
meeting his gaze this time felt different, but in the best way — his gaze was softer yet more intensely, seeming overcome by joy and love that he couldn’t help but to look at you as if you were the best thing that ever happened to him.
“could i ask you somethin’ else?” Michael asked softly, searching your eyes, as you smiled a little and slightly nodded your head while you maintained eye contact with him, “can i— may i… kiss you?”
you blinked once, then twice, and that was when realization dawned on you and you realized that none of this was a dream. your best-friend-turned-boyfriend Michael Jackson just asked you for a kiss… and by this point, who were you to deny what both of you had been secretly wanting?
“yeah… yeah, of course.” you answered quietly, slightly nodding your head again, as Michael smiled a little at you and the two of you looked at each other for a moment before you began leaning towards each other in unison, your nose slightly brushing against his before his lips locked with yours.
the kiss was soft and tentative, both of you testing the waters and not trying to scare each other off, but once the two of you got used to the feeling of your colliding mouths, the kiss deepened. his mouth moved slowly against yours and you maintained that rhythm, neither of you wanting to rush this sweet moment of intimacy you had been denying yourselves.
however, the universe seemingly had other plans because the closet door suddenly flung open and every single one of Michael’s brothers now stood there watching the two of you, you and Michael breaking the kiss at the sound of the door opening as your heads snapped towards the doorway.
“ahh-ha, i knew it! i knew it, i told y’all! i told y’all they was in here kissin’!” Marlon squealed, giggling through his banter, as the other brothers erupted into laughter with him and Jackie shook his head instead, though a content smile rested on his face at the sight of you and his younger brother wrapped in each other’s embrace.
identically sheepish grins spread across you and Michael’s faces and Michael immediately turned away from his brothers to shield his face as you buried your face into his chest with a muffled groan of embarrassment, which somehow only fueled Marlon’s amusement because he started laughing even harder than before.
synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)
thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3
Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.
It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.
Harmless.
There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.
Taking you against the bathroom door, hand clasped over your mouth to conceal your whines of pleasure. Or over the kitchen counter after his fiancée left for work. Or even in the same bed his wife to be slept in after you left, legs wobbling and a familiar throb between your thighs.
He knew it was wrong — especially since you were his brother’s friend. Someone who had been in his life since he was in his early 20’s — a constant reminder of something he could’ve had if he didn’t get into another relationship.
He had loved you from the second he set eyes on you. When Jermajesty introduced you both on a casual day, his heart ignited in desire. A want, no a need, for you so strong he physically felt a visceral reaction to you every time he saw you. Alas, he was harshly reminded you were meant to be friends, his brother’s friend, someone in close knit with the family — not someone to be romantically involved with. He moved on — physically, never emotionally.
He and Maddie, his future bride, weren’t the most thrilling of couples. They were simple, basic, easy — their marriage something to just say they’d done. Often lacking chemistry and connection, and that feeling deep in your soul where you know the person you’re with is the one.
Something he’d always felt for you.
The way he felt when you’d look at him, your pretty doe eyes peering up at him like he hung the stars, he could physically feel his heart thumping in his heart every time.
The affair started on Jermajesty’s birthday.
You got drunk — way too wasted, way too quick. The liquor hitting you harder than you expected as you stumbled through the Jackson home, bumping into walls, clutching onto door frame’s as you attempted to make it to the bathroom, before colliding straight into Jaafar, fairly tipsy himself.
He had been with Maddie a little over 3 years — bought their first home, talking of children and marriage, finally settling down.
Until he decided bending you over the sink and fucking you senseless sounded like a better idea.
And from there it blossomed.
Fucking you anywhere and everywhere — no matter the time. And every excuse was made.
Late home? He was on set. Or was he fucking you in his car in an empty parking lot?
Didn’t answer his phone? He was just busy! Busy stuffing your mouth full of his cock, more like.
He hated the way he felt no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. Just the sheer thrill of it — the excitement that filled his chest at thought of when he’d next be burying himself deep inside you.
He’d tell you, as he thought himself, ‘It’s harmless sex’. Something you’d laugh at — despite the cruel reality of it.
And the sex only got better when he and Maddie started fighting. Every day it was a new argument, brutal disputes that would only bring him back into your arms every time — love for her dying, and desire for you blooming.
The thought clouded his mind on set.
Standing under the bright lights, eyes burning from the sheer intensity as well as the fatigue that plagued him — not only from his demanding career, but visions of you keeping him awake, too.
When the director called for a short break, he let out a sigh of relief, shrugging a heavily bedazzled jacket from his tired shoulders, handing it to a nearby costume designer. Raking a hand through his tussled curls, he moved sluggishly to the sidelines of the set, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a slow, much needed, chug.
“Hey, you.”
He hated the way his brain automatically associated the sound of clicking shoes against the hard floor with you — his excitement dying slowly in his chest as he turned to meet his fiancée’s frame.
“Oh, hey.” He spoke, voice flat and uniform.
Maddie hesitated before speaking, eyebrows furrowed neatly into her forehead, “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” He brushed off, shaking his head, taking a firm seat in a chair with ‘J.Jackson’ neatly embroidered into the back, with a sigh, “What you doing here anyways?”
“Glad to see you too.” She huffed sarcastically, “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
She handed over a brown paper bag, heavy in his hand as he took it from her. Jaafar peeled it open, stomach rumbling as the sudden reminder to eat filled his now conscious brain.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jaafar peered up at her apprehensively, “I just—nothing it’s fine. Thank you.”
Maddie’s expression fell, “No. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, “I just don’t like turkey.”
“What?” She hissed, snatching the bag quickly, staring down at the bleak sandwich sat sadly inside, “You do.”
“I definitely don’t.” He breathed out a laugh, “You have it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.”
“You loved turkey when we first started dating.” She fired back, attempting to win back her pride.
“Yeah, 8 years ago.”
Maddie scoffed, “Fine. I’ll eat it. Go eat your shit vending machine food, and not the meal your fiancée worked so hard to make for you.”
Jaafar laughed in disbelief, “Maddie, it’s a sandwich. No offence, but I sincerely doubt you worked that hard.”
“What the hell, Jaafar? Honestly, I can’t with you sometimes, I just feel—“ “Jaafarrrr.”
Maddie noticed the way he perked up at the sound of your voice.
She rolled her eyes at the sight of you — a tiny, black mini skirt and a white blouse clad to your frame, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered in. You looked good without needing to try — something Jaafar always admired about you.
“Hey!” He beamed, rising from his chair, heading straight for you without a second thought, that dangerously beautiful smile adorning his face, “What are you doing here?”
The tone difference in the same question he’d asked to you and to Maddie was clear — something hard to miss.
He met you halfway across set, pulling you into a tight embrace, large arms wrapping around your frame, as you laced your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, Jaafar’s heart raced as you looked up at him — there were those pretty eyes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought you some lunch.” You admitted, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you handed him a gorgeously packaged box.
The smell hit him before he opened it — perfectly cooked steak, with freshly steamed greens and a side of mac n’ cheese. He groaned in delight.
“Your favourite.” You added.
If it wasn’t for the Jaafar blocking your view — you would’ve been met with the coldest, most seething gaze Maddie could muster.
She had been jealous of you from the start — she hated how much Jaafar loved being around you, how you got on like a house on fire, and proven just in that moment, how well you knew him.
“Oh, my God, this smells incredible.” Jaafar admitted, eyes flickering from your own to the food, “Thank you, princess.” He whispered, his voice low enough for you only to hear, “I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
“Contain yourself, handsome.” You returned the hushed tone, “Later.”
Jaafar’s eyes darkened at the thrilling idea of getting to kiss you in secret later — visions of ravishing you filling his mind. A different kind of hunger fuelling in his heart.
“I already made him lunch.”
You heard her before you saw her — Maddie’s stern voice from behind Jaafar, gaze still sharp.
“Oh, man.” Your voice a teasing disappointment, “Sorry, J, I didn’t know. What a waste.” Your faux frown hit his face, heart twisting at the idea of your upset.
“No, no. It’s fine. Maddie’s gonna have the other one, right?”
“No, I sai—“
“Aw, thanks, Maddie!” You grinned, excitable voice hitting both of their ears once again, smiling so innocently that your intentions seemed so pure, “At least you can have your favourite now.”
Jaafar smiled down at you, grabbing the plastic fork laid neatly next to his glorious meal, before digging in, “Oh, wow, this is amazing.”
“Made it myself.” You admitted, “Worked very hard for you, Jaaf.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jaafar couldn’t contain the way he smiled as you giggled proudly, walking alongside, mouth full of the food you kindly prepared for him, back to where he once sat, “Whatcha’ got planned for today then?”
“Figured I’d sit around all day and watch you sweat.”
Maddie clenched her jaw at the way you both laughed loudly — a real, genuine laugh falling from Jaafar’s lips.
“Sounds like a riveting day.” He teased, resuming back in his seat.
You grinned, “Oh, definitely. A real thriller.”
“Nice play on word—“ “Jaafar, can we talk?”
Maddie’s harsh voice cut your laughter short — a sudden intense atmosphere blossoming. Jaafar’s smile fell quickly, eyes meeting hers for the first time since you arrived as if her presence wasn’t recognisable.
“What?”
“Alone.”
You bit back a grin — every argument they had brought Jaafar closer to you. Sick, but you loved it.
“I’ll go wait in your dressing room, J.”
To Maddie, she was silently thankful for your departure, however, completely missing your sensual undertone — alluding to the very man, she was subconsciously pushing further away from her and more towards you, that you’d be waiting for him in a quiet, secluded place where he could take you like he always did.
You parted from the tension quickly — sauntering away, hips swinging involuntarily, your back facing the upcoming argument you knew would arise.
Maddie didn’t miss the way Jaafar watched you walk away.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Her voice forced a foul expression onto Jaafar’s face, “What now?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Jaafar.” Maddie snapped, finger pointing accusingly at him, “What is her problem?”
Jaafar feigned innocence quickly, “What do you mean? She just brought me lunch.”
“So did I, but you turned that down real fast. But, when she does it, it’s like she’s moved fucking mountains for you?” Maddie’s voice got icier with each sentence — and louder, forcing passing members of staff to side-eye the growing dispute.
“Lower your voice.” He hissed, eyes darting around, “You brought me something I didn’t like. Sorry if that offends you.”
“It’s not about that, Jaafar, it’s about how fucking weird you are around each other.” She snapped, voice refusing to lower, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Jaafar hid the way adrenaline thumped through his veins at the idea of her possibly finding out well. The thought of filling you to the brim with his thick cock suddenly polluting his brain — blood rushing between the very manhood he wanted to stuff you full of.
“Hello?” Maddie sassed, face an unyielding frosty expression.
“No, of course not. Stop asking me this.” Jaafar lied straight his teeth, a lie told so many times it felt natural now, “You always paint her out to be a horrible person, but she’s always so good to me. I don’t know why you can’t just be nice to her.”
“Because she’s all up on my fiancé every five seconds.”
“We’re just close.” Jaafar spoke, a statement not entirely untrue, “Just leave her alone for once.”
“Maybe tell her that.” Maddie spat, “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“And there we go. Always at her defence.” She laughed in aggravation, “I’m your fiancé, y’know? It’s me you’re marrying.”
I wish it wasn’t.
The sentence hit his brain faster than he expected — a subconscious response to the argument and his secretive infatuation with you.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jaafar shot back, rising to his feet quickly, “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.” He wasted no time walking down the hallway to his dressing room, following in your footsteps
“Jaafar, what? No.”
“Do not follow me.”
His voice, a usual calm and collected tone, was now snarled and bitter — a declaration of his frustration. He meant every word he said.
Jaafar stormed through the hall — feet stomping against the ground harder with each step. His anger bubbling over the edge as his chest heaved.
He slammed open the dressing room door — agitation oozing from him like no other. His eyes immediately landed on your relaxed frame, longing on the sofa that was pressed against the back of the room. You met his furious gaze.
“You okay, baby?”
Your sweet, calming voice flooded his frenzied brain — the nickname hitting him straight between the legs. He strode towards you quickly, hands immediately cradling your face as he smashed your lips together in a frantic kiss. You squeaked in surprise at the sudden connection — hands grasping at his tensed arms, before melting into his mouth.
“Need you. Now.” He mumbled against your lips, “Need to feel you.”
“Jaaf.” You whined, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your mouth had a familiar tingle radiating up your spine at the anticipation.
His lips worked magic against yours once more — moving with calculated precision as he pulled you to your feet. Tongues and teeth clashing as the passion intensified in your lip-locking — spit and swollen lips the only thing evident on your mouth as he moved his kisses down your neck. His hand, once pressed against the warm of your cheek, splayed across the nape of your neck, as he worked his way down your exposed chest.
“This gotta come off.” He muttered, flicking the buttons of your top open with ease, pulling it off your body and throwing it to the floor, your plump breasts filling his gaze.
His name fell from your mouth in a desperate plea as his lips attached to your bare tits — an erect nipple swirled around his tongue as he sucked. Your head thrust back — whines now filling the room as your back pressed into the makeup counter.
Jaafar pulled away from your breasts, lips colliding with your own once more as his eager hand travelled down your body — fingers nestling right where you needed him. His fingers slipped under your skirt, finding comfort in the dip of your slit, collecting your essence on his fingers from where you drooled through your panties.
“Jaafar, please.” You whimpered, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Tell me how much you want it, pretty.” Jaafar whispered against you, face now flush against your own, “Tell me all about it, baby.”
His fingers rubbed tight, precise circles over your clothed clit, slick with your arousal, eliciting the sweetest noises from your pretty mouth — ones that hand Jaafar twitching in his slacks.
“Mm—Need you—Aah! so bad, J,” You cried, hands clutching at the thick of his bicep, “M’Wanna feel you so bad.”
“That’s it, sweetie, talk to me.” He coaxed, mouth suckling at the exposure of your neck, marking up your skin with the graze of his teeth.
Jaafar continued to work his fingers onto you — nimble digits rubbing the painful ache between your legs away as he relaxed you, arousing you ready for his length. His supple lips pressed soft, delicate kisses to any piece of your skin he was unveiled to — only adding to the gorgeous whines of pleasure that flooded his ears.
You leant over to press a sweet kiss to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, “Please, Jaaf, need to feel you.”
Jaafar didn’t give you time to change your mind.
He ripped his body from yours in a hurry — trembling hands from adrenaline and anger unbuckling his slacks, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cold air hit the warmth of his cock, large hands instantaneously coming to wrap around the sheer length of him, pumping himself in relief.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately — swiftly pressing your stomach to the counter, poking your half-exposed ass to him. He pushed your skirt further up your backside, now bunching at your hips.
“I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, baby.” He revealed, looking up at you from the mirror before both of you, revelling in the way you gasped as the fat of his cockend slid between the wetness of your folds, “Too fucking angry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Your sweet, deliciously soft voice calmed his fury ever so slightly, the eyes that had him weak in the knees meeting his own in the reflection, “Use me. Take me. Just fuck me, please.”
The erotic admission had him pushing into you faster than he ever does — a loud cry falling past your lips as your vision blurred, hand slamming against the glass in a fist as he stretched you. Jaafar usually would take his time with you — work you open with his fingers, make you cum a few times before entering you. But not now. The flaming anger than burst inside of him had him selfish — not wanting to waste a single second before filling you to the brim.
And that he did. Your cunt throbbed around the size of him — girth and length forcing your slick little cunt open for him so briskly it had you biting on your lip so hard you tasted blood.
“That’s my good girl.” Jaafar growled out, a large hand stroking the plush of your hips that he gripped with the pad of his thumb, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful full of me.”
“Jaafar, please.” You mewled, tears brimming in your twinkling eyes.
“I know, I know, baby.” He reassured, dragging his cock out of you slowly, “Just feel me.”
He set a brutal pace — one that rendered you speechless from the first thrust. Only blabbering moans of undeniable pleasure releasing from your mouth as his tip kissed the smooth of your cervix, his cock rammed so deep you forget how to speak.
Jaafar grunted wildly behind you — his usual gentle love-making a distant memory as he fucked you as if you were a cock hungry slut. Something he could use for his own personal pleasure.
Right now, you were absolutely that and more.
“Fucking hate her.” He seethed behind you, grip tightening around your hips, before sliding up your back and taking your hair in a tight grasp, pulling you flush against his heaving chest, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”
The nefarious admission had your cunt clenching around him — knowing he was fucking you brainless whilst badmouthing his fiancée, who you also despised, had arousal coursing through your veins more so than before.
Jaafar noticed, “Oh, you naughty girl.” He breathed, breath hot against your ear, “You love fucking a taken man, huh?”
“Only you, Jaafar.”
Jaafar couldn’t suppress the whimper that fell from his lips, head falling into the crook of your neck, mumbling a curse under his breath at your huffed submission to him — cock throbbing inside you. Every drag of his dick had you whining underneath him — eyes rolling back as he repeatedly abused the sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh, princess?” He coaxed, “Look at me.” His large hand gripped your cheeks in a harsh grasp, before pushing two fingers into your agape mouth, “Suck.”
You willingly did as he pleased — suckling at the thick of his digits, the tang of your essence still lingering on his fingers flooding your tastebuds, whining at the taste of yourself. Your tongue swirled around him, eager to please, earning a hum of approval from the heaving man behind you, his pace never faltering.
“Jaafar.” Your voice muffled, mouth still stuffed full of him, a desperate, needy tone in your words, “Harder, p’wease.”
“Y’sound so fuckin’ sexy with your mouth full.” Jaafar groaned, eyes locked on the way tears slipped from your wide eyes, cascading down your face, a collecting of wetness of your tears and spit pooling at your chin.
Jaafar pulled out of you swiftly, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness, before briskly shifting you to face him, pulling your body on top of the counter. He entered you once more, a blissful moan falling past your lips. His hands splayed against the fat of your hips against, pulling you down onto the hardness of his cock — bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you marched every thrust with an erotic whinge.
“‘Gonna cum, Jaaf.” You revealed, eyes glued to the milky white essence that pooled at the base of Jaafar’s cock as it disappeared repeatedly into your sex.
“Give it to me, princess.” He coaxed, fingers flying to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the aching nub, “Cum with me, baby.”
Your orgasm crept down your spine, settling in the low of your abdomen, the relief of a much needed climax arriving, a loud, demanding moan leaving your mouth as you chased your high at full speed. Jaafar wasn’t far behind you — pace now quickening as he too chased his orgasm, wanting nothing more right now to fill you to the brim with his fertile seed.
Slam!
“What the fuck?”
The door to the dressing room swung open — an aggressive bang that had both of your heads spinning towards the noise.
Now you were truly fucked.
Maddie stood in the door way, utterly mortified and shocked to her core at the sight of you — pussy stuffed full of her fiancée’s cock — sweat glistening off of both your bodies, chests heaving.
In a blacked-out state of intense arousal, your wicked mouth betrayed
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jaafar.”
And he listened.
In his own personal lust, the sound of his distraught fiancée’s shouting, catching him in a comprising act fell on deaf ears, his hips, that had once stilled, resumed once more.
Your head fell back once more as his pace picked up — your orgasm climbing back up quicker now, pure thrill and adrenaline coursing through you like an addict snorting a fresh line.
Your nails dug into the plush of his bare ass, moans hitting an all time high as you clenched around him, completely unaffected by the furious woman in the doorway — climax washing over you harder than it ever had.
“Oh, Jaafar!” His name rang out through the room, alongside the squelch of your juices with each harsh thrust Jaafar fucked into you, a subconscious twist of the knife to the disbelieving Maddie watching in shock.
Jaafar groaned into your rising chest, cumming with a cry, his own orgasm hitting him as he doubled over, folding into you as he stuffed you full. The sensation of his spurting load filling you to the brim had your toes curling around his waist, a whine hitting his ringing ears. He didn’t stop — fucking his hot cum deeper into you, hips stuttering in overstimulation, the intense feeling of his electric orgasm still flooding through him.
In your mutual state of blind pleasure, you hadn’t noticed the absence of Maddie — the room deafening silent as you caught your breaths.
Jaafar softened inside you, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut.
(sfw) a memory to look back on. / mj x pregnant!reader blurb
a/n: I had absolutely no direction in this lol. I was imagining any Michael post mid 80s. this idea popped up in my mind after seeing this (pinterest)
The camera wobbled briefly before steadying in Michael's hand, his attention fixed on the small screen as it recorded you getting ready for date night in the bathroom. At first, you hadn't noticed him at all, too focused on your reflection as you swept a brush across your cheek. The outfit you had picked out beautifully accentuated your figure, making the curve of your stomach impossible to miss now.
Michael adjusted the zoom, focusing on your face before lowering it to your belly. The faint whirring of the camera filled the room as he lingered there for a moment, recording the gentle rise and fall of your stomach. He stayed still for a moment before slowly angling the camera upward again.
The sound caught your attention. Your eyes glanced toward the bathroom doorway, narrowing slightly when you found Michael standing there. He made absolutely no effort to hide what he was doing. If anything, the camera seemed to lift a little higher the moment he realized you'd noticed him.
"Michael..." you dragged out, setting your brush down on the counter. Turning to face him fully, you shook your head, though the smile tugging at your mouth made it clear you were far from annoyed.
“Yes, baby?” he replied, the camera shaking slightly as he struggled not to laugh.
"Why are you filming me?" eyes flicking between him and the camera. The question earned an immediate grin from him.
"Why not?" he asked simply. The camera tilted slightly as he leaned against the doorway. "You look pretty." His answer was so casual that it pulled a small smile from you before you could stop it.
He stepped further into the bathroom then, the camera followed his movement without ever leaving you, despite the fact that he was clearly more focused on you than what he was recording. "Is it a crime to film my beautiful wife?"
Your hand settled over your stomach as your expression softened, a smile started to form before you could stop it.
"There it is," he said, pleased.
You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could ask what he meant, he was already moving toward you. The space between you closed quickly until he was right in front of you. His free hand came up gently to your face as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.
A soft giggle escaped you at the affection, and you turned your head away shyly, your hand briefly covering part of your smile. "What was that for?" you asked
Michael stayed close to you enough that his hand was still resting against your cheek. His thumb lingered near your cheek for a second longer before he finally spoke, "That smile."
hii!! i was wondering, how do you write fanfics? not in the literal sense but like how do you begin..i really want to start and i’m not sure from where to depart and how to adapt to a certain writing style and sound coherent ykwim?
Hi! Thank you for the ask ♥︎
Whenever I get a concept or idea, I immediately write everything down. From beginning, middle, to end, any tiny details etc. before I can start second guessing myself. I do not let myself overthink on if it sounds cringe or “out of character”. Just focus on getting all my thoughts out, whether that’s a horrible 1k words or a few sentences. (A rough draft)
Something that helps me a lot with descriptions/detailing is imagining myself as the reader or imagining the fic like a movie scene in my head. I think about the flow, why & how the people in my fanfics do things, etc stuff like that. I love writing that feels vivid enough that you can picture the entire scene in your head while reading it.
I also take my time with writing throughout. I don’t force myself to finish everything in one sitting, and if I need a break after writing a paragraph, then I’ll take one 🤷🏽♀️ Never rush.
And then after all that, I go back and clean everything up. I rewrite, add, and remove sentences a lot. That usually means looking up synonyms and researching to make sure scenes makes sense & is realistic. Afterward, it’s time for editing which is just grammar and fixing mistakes. (revising & editing)
Also trust me… nobody starts out amazing, back in 2020 during quarantine I was DEEP in my wattpad phase and looking back my writing was actually horrible LMFAOOO. Then I took a huge break (late 2021-2024) so my skills got worse, but I just apply all of the above to my writing!
Sooo basically 1). Rough draft 2). Read & revise 3). Edit. And I’ll admit that I sometimes do these steps more than once, especially if it’s a long fic.
❛ michael jackson 𝑥 female !reader ❜
....✉︎ an extremely overworked, sleep deprived, and substance dependent michael and worried girlfriend reader.
....✎ tw: implied substance abuse. mention of medication. angst. sad. fluff if you squint
“you need to stop doing this to yourself, michael"
the concern in your voice brings michael back to reality. he glances back at the television and swears you just put the movie on. how is it playing the end credits already?
"i'm getting worried about you..." your robe flows in the air as you stride toward him from the living room doorway. he doesn't remember you changing into a nightgown.
you stood in front of him blocking his vision from the screen. and he just looks up at you, eyebrows knit together, mouth agape – trying to find the words to say. it's rare that he's rendered speechless.
as you look into his eyes, a nauseating wave of sadness washes over you. he just seems so...exhausted. without any of his usual makeup, you can clearly see the weight of the world on him. his usually bright doe eyes looked cloudy, lost, and confused. you can barely recognize him with his eyes sunken and red.
it's clear to you that he hasn't been getting sleep again. and it made you want to cry because he's still trying so so so hard for you. you don't know why he said yes to a movie night with you when it's obvious that he hasn't slept in days. pushing himself to spend time with you on his only free day.
but that's just the kind of person michael jackson is. he will do what he wants, even at the cost of himself.
with that, you let out a deep sigh as you knelt in front of him. this time, it's your turn to gaze up at him. he leans forward to meet your forehead, and he closes his eyes at the feeling of your palm resting against his jaw. relishing in the comfort that you were providing as you held his face in your hands.
“you didn't even notice you fell asleep, michael" you try to sound stern.
as a response, he takes your hand and softly presses his lips against your palm. "you worry about me too much, baby" he reassures. or tries to.
"i'm your girlfriend. it's my job to fuss over you"
he smiles at you, pulling you up from the floor and into his lap. your arms wrap around his neck as you plant yourself atop his legs.
“baby i swear i'm okay, just a little loopy. that's it."
you're not convinced. and how could you be? he just finished a tour with his brothers, and here he was again, knee deep into making another hit album. not to mention, still recovering from an accident all those months ago. you can't tell which of his medications are doctor or self-prescribed.
truthfully, his passion is one of the reasons why you fell in love with him in the first place. his hunger for greatness is one of the reasons why he’ll continue to insist that everything is fine. that he is fine. but michael is anything but okay, and everyone around him knows that. you're just the only one who cares enough to stop him.
“sorry I fell asleep baby, I really didn’t mean to”
he must think you're mad at him for falling asleep on your date because he sounds defeated. he searches your eyes for a response, but you don't think he'll remember any of this. you simply pull him tighter and press a small kiss on his forehead, making sure he feels loved instead.
“don’t beat yourself up over it, mike” you're up on your feet as you take his hand, urging him to follow suit to your shared bed. you have him change into comfier pyjamas before you make him drink a melatonin tea.
as you both lay down in bed, duvet engulfing your bodies, he asks you one last question.
"you're not sick of me yet, are you?" his voice cracks at the slightest, and your heart breaks. you turn to face him, and your eyes soften as trace the baby hairs that frame his face.
“of course not, silly goose. i love you too much. i'm here forever” you force out a smile, but your brows dip in worry.
he's too tired to respond, so he just nods repeatedly. ultimately relieved to hear you say that. this time, he pulls you closer and engulfs you into his arms, head resting atop yours. you can hear his heartbeat as you rest your ear to his chest. when it slows down, you suspect he's finally asleep.
so you let yourself cry a little, soft sobs escaping your mouth as you try to hold in your tears. but your emotions betray you, and soon enough, a part of michael's shirt dampens with your tears.
but michael wasn't asleep just yet. and he can tell he wasn't meant to hear this part.
"i'm here for as long as you're here...so i swear to god michael, you better not leave me alone on this earth" he knows what you mean – what you're silently begging for, what your grief-stricken tears are about.
so right there and then, he promises to be better starting tomorrow. he wants to be here with you for a long, long time.
૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა
author's note: i must love pain because what the hell.
Don’t ever feel like you need to “suck up” any irritation or discomfort during your pregnancy. Michael’s there whenever, wherever! Always ready to soothe you before you even ask. In moments where the aches start settling into your back or stomach, all you really want is his warm hand resting over your belly. You love it because his palms are always so warm, almost like a heating pad pressed gently against your skin.
At the same time, it’s not like you’re very good at hiding your discomfort anyway. Michael can tell immediately by the way you shift your weight while standing, the way you chew on your bottom lip, or how your eyes start drifting absentmindedly while waiting for him to finish speaking during interviews. He doesn’t care what he was talking about anymore the second he notices. His attention shifts to you instantly, hand smoothing over your stomach while quietly asking if you’re alright.
Favorite sleeping position is definitely lying on your side while Michael spoons you from behind, both arms wrapped around you with his hands resting protectively over your belly.
I also feel like he’d constantly reassure reader when pregnancy insecurity kicks in. If she’s upset about swelling, stretch marks, exhaustion, or just not feeling like herself, he’d be so gentle about it. The type to gently hold your face in both hands while rubbing your stomach with his thumb, reminding you how beautiful you are until you finally stop avoiding your reflection. He treats every change in your body with so much care and gratitude that, eventually, it becomes hard not to see yourself the way he sees you too.
He’d also get ridiculously excited over those Walkman headphones stretched across your lower stomach so the baby could listen along with you both to music. Sitting there all smiley while playing cassette tapes against your belly, completely fascinated by the idea that your baby could hear his music.
a/n: some small thoughts I’ve had over the past few days cause I rllyyy need to post SOMETHING, lmk ur thoughts as well. oh and i didn't rlly imagine a specific era of mj.
a fluffy imagine where reader helps mj with his curls (wash & style) and ofc his edges .. lmk if someone already wrote this cause if not I definitely will
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