StoriesInTeacups

Just an introverted young woman who loves to read and write novels, and MJ fanfics to get away from this exhausting world. Requests are open until 8/28!!

[pyt-mjdiaries]

Lady in My Life (18+)

A romantic, passionate honeymoon with Michael Jackson

Summary: It was your and Michael's honeymoon on Catalina Island in May 2026. You were both excited to spend an entire week together as newlyweds, though neither of you expected rain to be in the forecast for the whole trip.

After arriving at a cozy beach house tucked away among the trees, far from the crowds, you found yourselves spending the first few days indoors. The constant rainfall turned your honeymoon into a peaceful retreat filled with conversation, laughter, board games, old movies, massages, delicious cooked meals, and peaceful evenings by the fireplace. Yet beneath the comfort was a shared nervousness. Both of you were painfully shy, dancing around the unspoken anticipation that came with being newly married, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Eventually, Michael decided to take the initiative, closing the distance between you.

Word count: Approx: 2,304 words. 12935 characters

Paring and author’s notes: This is a Michael Jackson/black fem-reader. I used some of the lyrics in this fanfic. This is Michael Jackson’s Thriller era look if he had kept his original nose. I’ve always loved his original nose! This is my first-ever smut on this platform, and honestly, I always have a hard time writing smut in general. I normally write on Wattpad, so we'll see how this goes! Enjoy! :D

Warning: *18+*, Smut, consent, teasing, some strong language and explicit content, both are virgins, honeymoon, slow dancing, affirmations, slow burn, sweet talking, oral, orgasm, whimpering, begging, yearning, love making, singing you through it, serenading.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We've made it, my love," Michael sang softly as the rental car came to a stop.

He hurried around to my side and opened the door before offering me his hand. After helping me out, he lifted my hand to his lips and smiled.

"Doesn't it look wonderful, Y/N?"

I looked up at the charming beach house tucked away among towering palm trees and thick green shrubs that shielded it from neighboring homes. The sun hovered low over the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink, though heavy gray clouds rolled overhead. Rain had already begun to fall, casting a bluish haze over the island while the fading sunlight still glowed through it.

"It's beautiful, Michael…but it's already raining."

He looked at me with nothing but adoration.

"Only my beautiful wife deserves the finest." He slipped the house key into my hand. "You go inside while I unload the luggage. Hurry before you get soaked."

He kissed my hand once more before making his way to the trunk.

I smiled to myself as I walked toward the house, my long orange summer dress swaying with each step in the warm spring breeze. A colorful cobblestone path led to the front door. Unlocking it, I stepped inside and immediately stopped to admire the view.

The open-concept kitchen and living room overlooked the beach through enormous glass windows that stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. Beyond them, the ocean faded into the misty horizon. Fresh fruit, complimentary snacks, and a selection of wine rested neatly on the kitchen island. The refrigerator was empty, but Michael had already stocked up on groceries before the trip.

He had insisted on cooking every meal himself, claiming his home cooking was better than any five-star restaurant.

Honestly, I believed him. He was very good at making soul food. His favorite things to make were mac and cheese, yams, and oven-roasted yams with lemon butter. He was amazing at making red velvet cake.

Curious, I wandered farther into the house. The bedroom was even larger than the photos online had shown, complete with a king-sized bed, a sofa, a flat-screen television, and elegant furnishings that made the room feel warm and inviting. The bathroom was just as impressive, featuring a spacious walk-in shower and a large soaking tub positioned beside wide windows overlooking another side of the beach.

The entire house carried the fresh scent of citrus and rain drifting in from outside.

I returned to the living room and stood before the windows, watching the waves roll onto the shore.

"Enjoying the view, I see."

I turned to find Michael standing in the doorway with our luggage. His curls were damp, and droplets of rain clung to his jacket.

"Michael!" I hurried over and kissed his cheek. "You're all wet."

He laughed softly. "I'll survive."

Setting the luggage down, he looked around the house with wide-eyed wonder.

"It's even prettier than the pictures. I'm glad we reserved it before someone else did."

I chuckled.

"Please put the luggage away and change before you catch a cold."

"All right, all right." He grinned. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, he returned wearing dry clothes, his curls still slightly damp around his forehead.

Without saying a word, he slipped his arms around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.

"It's a shame it's raining."

"It is." I leaned back against him. "My weather app says it's supposed to rain all week."

He let out an exaggerated sigh. "Then we'll make the best of it. Just you and me…homemade meals prepared by yours truly, our favorite playlists, plenty of movies, and our phones on Do Not Disturb."

I laughed. "You actually did that?"

"I even blocked my brothers."

I turned to look at him, trying not to laugh. "Michael, they're going to be upset when you unblock them."

He lowered his voice in playful annoyance. "Those dimwits will survive."

I smiled. For someone as gentle and soft-spoken as Michael, his brothers had a remarkable talent for testing his patience. Beneath the sarcasm, though, he adored every one of them.

He pressed another kiss to my neck. "Now go freshen up and put on something comfortable while I make us dinner, my love."

"As you wish, Chef Jackson."

The rain continued to pour without letting up the past few days. Any plans of strolling along the beach or swimming in the ocean would have to wait. I knew Michael had imagined us spending our days in the sunshine and the water, so the weather had clearly disappointed him. We spent our days playing board games, watching classic black-and-white movies, enjoying delicious home-cooked meals, sharing jokes that left us in stitches, and taking turns giving each other relaxing massages.

As I looked around the cozy beach house and then back at my husband, I couldn't help but think that maybe being stuck indoors because of the rain wasn't such a terrible way to spend our honeymoon after all.

Yet there was an unspoken tension between us that neither of us seemed ready to acknowledge. Every lingering glance, every accidental brush of our hands, every moment we found ourselves standing just a little too close made us both shy. We were newlyweds, yet we still blushed like teenagers whenever our eyes met. We hadn't even seen each other undressed, each of us too nervous to cross that invisible line.

By the fourth evening, the rain still hadn't let up.

After taking a warm shower, I slipped into a comfortable, flowy nightgown with sheer sleeves and made my way into the kitchen. Michael stood at the island, pouring wine into two glasses. The lights had been dimmed, casting a soft golden glow throughout the room that made the beach house feel even more intimate.

He looked up, and his eyes immediately widened.

"Y/N…" A bashful smile spread across his face. "You look beautiful, my love."

I felt warmth rise to my cheeks. "Thank you, Michael." I walked over to him and glanced toward the windows, where raindrops continued to race down the glass. "Another rainy day."

He handed me a glass before lifting his own. "But it's also another day with my beautiful wife."

I smiled and took a sip. "Mmm…I like this one."

"So do I." He tasted his wine before grinning shyly. "It's sweet and fruity." He looked at me for a moment before adding with a shy smile, "Kind of like you."

I laughed, gently nudging his arm. "Oh, stop. You're so cute when you flirt."

"And it works every time."

A small blush colored his cheeks as he set his wineglass on the counter and reached for my hand.

"Come on," he said softly. "Dance with me."

He picked up his phone, scrolled through one of our playlists, and selected a mellow jazz song. As the music filled the room, he guided me into the living room.

One hand rested gently at my waist while the other held mine. We swayed slowly across the hardwood floor, smiling at one another as the rain tapped softly against the windows. The scent of wine lingered on his breath as he softly hummed along with the music, his movements graceful and effortless. Every slow turn and gentle smile made the rest of the world disappear until it felt like there was no one else on the island but us.

"This is nice," I said. My fingers moved through his hair. The smell of him was close and comforting. I kept my breathing even, my voice level. The gown was thin enough that I was grateful for the dark.

“I love you, Y/N,” he whispered softly into my ear.

“I love you too, my wonderful husband.” I rested my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “You’re an amazing man…I’m so lucky to have you in my life.”

“I’m glad I married you, Y/N. I’m glad I chose you. I’m glad I fell in love with you.” He gently lifted my chin so I could meet his gaze. His warm brown eyes held mine with a tenderness I had come to cherish. “You mean the world to me…you’ll always be the lady in my life.”

As he said it, the music shifted. The song faded into a soft instrumental of The Lady in My Life, as if the moment itself had quietly transformed to match it.

It almost felt like magic, like he had a way of making everything around us fall into place without trying.

He didn't say anything. He just stayed quiet for a while. Then he exhaled softly, his forehead resting briefly against mine. “My love…” he murmured. “I want you. In every way. I want you in a way that…it burns.” He whimpered like it hurt. His eyes told the same story. "Do you want me?"

My breath caught. “I want you too,” I whispered back, my voice barely steady. “Why do you think I’m wearing this gown?”

A shy warmth rushed to my face as I hid my gaze for a moment, overwhelmed by how close we suddenly felt.

His lips found mine before I could think. He tasted like the wine we’d left on the kitchen island. His hands found my hips and drew me in, and the sounds we made were soft, almost involuntary. Every place he touched left heat behind. He wanted more. We broke apart, breathless, and he held my gaze as he began to sing along to the song, just for me, and lifted me up and carried me to the bedroom.

He set me down on the bed and stood at the edge of it, looking at me. “Do you want this, y/n?”

“I do, Michael. Do you?”

“Of course I do, my love. This is your night. You’re so beautiful, baby. I promise I’ll be gentle.” He kept singing as we undressed. He was beautiful in every way. That cocoa brown skin of his; it was like looking at a beautifully crafted melted chocolate. I wanted to eat him up.

He parted my legs slowly, his eyes dark. “Lay back on my tenderness,” he sang, his hands moving along my legs, his mouth following. “Let’s make this a night we won’t forget.” My back lifted off the bed. He was everywhere at once.

His tongue traced slow, deliberate circles where I was most sensitive, my eyelids fluttering shut as I lost myself in the heat of it. His fingers pressed into my thighs, anchoring me as his rhythm grew faster, his breath warm against me. A low moan escaped him. “Mmm, Michael—” I gasped.

His mouth lifted instantly. “Too much?”

“No,” I breathed. “Don’t stop. It’s just…so good.” He lowered his head again, tongue returning with renewed focus, and I twisted the sheets in my fists.

Then his fingers brushed lightly across me before slipping inside, and I arched off the bed with a sharp cry. “Oh—Michael!”

“Stay with me,” he sang, voice rough. “I want you to stay here with me.” It wasn’t just a request; it was his way of saying he loved the sounds I made, that he wanted more, even if my body was trembling on the edge.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let me hear you.” My hips jerked upward, unsteady, and he pinned my legs open with both hands. “You’re not going anywhere,” he growled, his words thick with want, his lips slick with me. “Don’t you go anywhere. Mmm, you taste so good, my love. Sweet just for me.”

My body tensed, fingers tangling in his hair as the pressure built. “Michael— I—I’m—” The words dissolved into a gasp.

“Let go, baby,” he murmured against me. “Come for me, sweetheart.” The release crashed over me, my back arching as his mouth stayed pressed there, slow and deliberate, like he was savoring something too good to rush. When he finally pulled away, his lips glistened, his gaze heavy with want.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “So sweet.” My pulse still raced, but the sight of him, hard, straining, sent another wave of heat through me.

He settled between my thighs, his weight warm against mine. “Ready for me?” His voice was rough.

I nodded, breathless. “God, yes. Please.” The first push was slow, a sharp sting that made me flinch. He paused, kissing my neck, my collarbone, anywhere to soften the burn.

“Breathe,” he whispered. I did, and then he was fully inside me, filling me in a way that made us both groan. “Fuck,” he rasped. “You’re so tight.” His hips rolled in shallow thrusts, each one sending sparks through my nerves. My nails dug into his shoulders, searching for an anchor in the overwhelming sensation. Then he started singing, soft, off-key, the lyrics melting into nonsense as his pace quickened.

“Don’t stop,” I begged. He groaned, picking up speed, his rhythm faltering as he neared his own edge.

“I love you,” he panted. “Fill you with the sweetest love. I'm gonna fill you up!” The sound of his voice, raw and unguarded, sent me over the edge again.

"Michael! Yes, Michael!"

We came together, our cries tangled in the humid air between us.

“That was…amazing, Michael. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you more. y/n” He turned over and held me in a tight embrace. “You were amazing. Thank you for being my wife. The lady in my life.”

[mjsloveslave]

Chapter NINE of Virtuous Sinners has finally been posted!

Chapter Nine

  Chapter Nine The Morgana Steakhouse Toronto, Canada “ ...Bouillabaisse...Lamb Chops, medium-well...Asparagus Hollandaise, R

The latest installment of the ever evolving saga featuring Michael Jackson, 3T and the backdrop of 1920s Canada is live on my blog!

Please read, enjoy and comment!

[michaelssugarbby]

𝓢𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽, 𝓢𝓾𝓰𝓪𝓻 ˋ°•*⁀➷ 𝓒𝓪𝓷𝓭𝔂 𝓜𝓪𝓷 Makes your cherry pop! 🍒 smut! So you already know what that means…18+ Any era!Michael-but had this with dangerous!mj in mind!

Michael’s three fingers were deep inside your pussy, hitting your g-spot, making your vision go blurry and starry. Your head lolled back onto the pillow behind your head as he added a thumb to roll circles onto your over sensitive clit. Mind you, you had already came three times, this marking your fourth…and not your final one either.

“Yeah?” He purred. “This feels good? Mmmm, that’s right, good girl,” he praised as you came again, your body lurching violently, back arching up into his touch. His body weight was crushing you, the fluids, sweat and slick liquid, mixed in with one another, sticking you two together.

He pressed his chest further into your bare breasts—so much that you could feel the cool contrast of his thin gold chain around his neck—applying more pressure to your swollen clit, while fingering in unison with the thrusting of your walls.

Your lips parted, eyes rolled back involuntarily as you let out a breathy moan, yet another orgasm washed over you, causing a sensory overload bordering on euphoria and pleasure.

Michael pressed a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth while praising you. “Almost, baby, just wait,” he whispered as you started whining for his cock. “Such a needy little thing aren’t you?” He cooed while looking down at your fucked out state: cheeks flushed, pupils blown, lips parted and bruised from earlier kissing.

He felt your walls clench around him again, your slickness coating his finger. “Open,” he purred, sticking his wet finger into your awaiting mouth.

“So obedient, good girl,” he praised as you suck your own fluid off his finger, saliva snapping as he retreated his finger. “Since you’ve been so good,” he began to line up at your entrance, entering with a slow thrust, just the tip.

A slow roll of his hips and he was already inches in your cunt, his head rolling back as he groaned. He gripped your ankles, hauling them to rest on his broad frame shoulder blades.

“So tight,” he groaned, quickening the pace until your tits were bouncing violently against your chest. Your eyes squeezed shut as you were already bracing for another orgasm.

“Fuck! H-harder!” You breathed in between each thrust. He was getting close and you were too. A warm sensation was building up in your stomach, the coil twisting until it snapped.

Your orgasm hit harder with time, your back arching up into his body, cock buried deep inside of your pussy while your walls flutter and clenched, his white hot seed filling your womb.

Michael let out a few breathy gasps, chest heaving up and down with labored breathing until he finally eased, the aftershocks were still there.

He stayed flush against your body, forehead resting against yours, gaze lingering on your lips through his lashes.

“More,” you whined. A smile erupted against his features, and he let out a little giggle. “Please,” you begged. He was so good at filling you with his sweet, warm, seed. He was a tasty sight and yummy too.

“Baby,” he let out a breathy giggle, now straddling your hips. “The candy man only delivers once a night,” and with that, he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead—making your eyes flutter—then rolled over to his side.

🍒⭐️—@introverted-werido360 @lovelyreadersposts @yeaitsapplehead @out-of-this-world-mj @feenin4dietcoke @filthytabloidpress @botdfaholic @ttangerinexo @justboredroaming @winnieforsure @lelewright1234 @cvntclip @mikaylajacksonnn

[startingsomethin]

happy 47th anniversary to the best album of all time!

[fluoresensitives]

Little Black girls, you will always have my blade. The way people treat you, even your own mothers, as monsters, call you "fast", blame you and hate you... AHHHH LITTLE BLACK GIRLS, LIVE! SURVIVE! THRIVE!

[bakersatoll]

I just picture the Jackson babies as bear cubs like this literally ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

https://www.instagram.com/reel/DZSVGGgu0ye/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==

(Jackson.5)　　SPIKING BLOOD PRESSURES

Blurb contains... fluff, fluff, Michael being a mama's boy, Jackson kids causing chaos.

It's easy to forget that the Jacksons are just... kids. Kids with the unique ability to transform into bears, deprived of the everyday activities children get into for endless rehearsals. When finally let loose from rehearsal, the Jacksons wreak havoc for anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the storm of chaos.

Rolling around town—fur and all—the Jackson brothers paw and push each other around until they find themselves in the middle of the road.

Caught in the fun of it all, Tito, Marlon, Jackie, and Jermaine didn't hear the rumbling cars in front of them. Jumping and climbing onto one another until a low growl froze the four in place.

From the treeline trudged Katherine and Michael, who pattered beside their mother with a self-righteous gait. With a glare, the boys followed their mother and Michael out of the road and back home. Letting traffic continue.

"Can't leave you for two minutes..." Katherine grumbled.

"Told'ya so, could've gotten ran ooooveeer..." Michael whispers to his brothers, quickening his pace to match the group's steps.

"Shut up, Michael."

　　　　　　　　Hungry 4 more?

taglist: @mjtvv @michaellvr @the-whitequeen-13 @brownsugarletters @willyoubetherealways @tellybearryyyy @tauroist @niyahctrl

[ryuoniii]

Make Sum Noise

Imagine Michael loving to use a vibrator on you, especially knowing how loud and whiny you get. (hold me back)

- soft dom!michael jackson x fem!reader

- a short lil blurb 18+

“cmon sweets, I know you can give me another” he adds more force to your clit with the bubblegum pink magicwand.

Michael had you sprawled out on the bed, totally fucked out by this toy & you were already 3 orgasms in. He still wasn’t done with you. The mess underneath you started to pool on the white sheets.

“Fuck Michael!” You screamed out loud grabbing anything around you at this point. You grind your hips towards him enjoying the pleasure but also getting overwhelmed.

Michael leans over on top of you to place his ear near your mouth. He was deeply in love with the way you can get loud like this, he could get off to just the sound of you. You squeeze your eyes and whine helplessly into Michael.

“There she is..” he says in close contact. “let me hear you, let it alllll out” he groans. You start to feel that tension come up in your lower abdomen, it’s getting real tight.

He turns up the level one more notch on the wand. Your eyes shot open in surprise.

“mikeeyyyy it’s too much, i can’t-“ you whine

“Yes you can” he talks over you in his raspy voice

He positions the wand all over, switching between circular and up and down motions through your swollen folds. Your mewls filled the room and maybe even the hallway of the house. Good thing the housemaids weren’t here at this time.

“God- ngh!”

“Be my good girl and come again” He says by your ear sending shivers through your whole body. You jerk but he’s keeping you steady, helping you all the way through. You felt everything all at once.

A few more seconds everything jolts out of you, more cum leaking from your sopping pussy. Michael looks down at your beautiful mess “God look at you, you’re amazing” he breathes out in awe.

Your breathing was ragged until it became steady again. You two lay there enjoying each others intimate presence.

A few minutes later until you feel Michael’s hard length on your inner thigh. You look up into his eyes.

“m sorry” he chuckles before moving to lay beside you in bed, both of you under the covers

“I can fix that later”

“No no it’s okay baby” you said then thought to yourself for a moment

“Actually I’ve got an idea” you say slyly, slithering your arm under the sheets reaching for the toy. Michael notices your movements, his brows furrowed.

“What’re you doin- agh!”

-

Let’s just say he’s way more noisier than you

[pyt-mjdiaries]

I just got this and…yeah, this is a first for me. Little does this person know that I'm a grown Black woman in my 30s and just started writing MJ fanfics, spicy and non-spicy, a month ago. He was a handsome man with a great heart and personality, who was quite the ladies' man and I have watched a lot of content where he expressed his love and adoration for his fans, especially female fans.

I've always loved and respected him and I know that these stories I create and read are purely fictional and not real!

Writing spicy fanfiction about grown men, men I will never talk to in real life, and never will know who I am, whether they're on this planet or in spirit, shouldn't be frowned upon. Writing these fics is fun and serves as an escape for me and many writers and readers alike. I had a rough childhood too and couldn't express myself without people telling me, “You're too innocent. Stay pure.”

I rarely witness people being shamed for writing spicy content for other fandoms, except for K-pop. More women are now out here writing content that expresses themselves in so many ways that seems wrong to most people. He was an icon who was considered an attractive man and ladies' man, but at the same time treated as if he wasn't a grown man.

I did not intend to invite negativity when I started my Tumblr account. I only wanted to have fun.

[michaelssugarbby]

Michael being mean! Bad!Michael x bsf!reader (18+ for smut!) reader has expensive taste! 👅

Michael was cuddled up on the couch with you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other was deep in a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. Horror movies were Michael’s favorite and yours too, so he invited you over for a movie night. Just the two of you, without your boyfriend.

“Hey, angel, come sit in my lap,” he patted his lap. “Let’s get nice and warm, yeah?” He licked his lips as you settled into his lap without hesitation, your round, heart-shaped ass pressing directly onto his growing erection.

Michael was intoxicated by your intense vanilla and cashmere scent, your soft curls falling onto his face, tickling his cheeks.

“Baby, when’s your boyfriend coming over?” He grunted rolling his hips up onto you. A soft moan escaped his lips.

“Oh, he’s coming in twenty minutes cause I need a ride to get back home,” you answered, absentmindedly twirling a curl with your finger.

“Well, ride me then.” Your eyes widened in shock, and something else. But Michael was just your friend, and you already had a boyfriend.

“But Michael what I-“ you protested, but Michael cut you off by a kiss, wrapping his arms around your torso, pulling you flush against him.

“C’mon babygirl, we do this all time,” he brushed a couple of curls out of your face. Then he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “he won’t have to know, angel…”

You gave in, helping him unzip his trousers, throwing them off to the side while he unbuckled his belt, placing it onto the couch beside him. He bunched your dress up to your waist, removing your now wet panties and stuffed them into his Bad jacket pocket.

He rolls hips up onto yours, filling you up all the way, causing a moan to escape your bruised and swollen lips. Your hips twitch involuntarily, walls clenching around his length. A whimper leaves your mouth.

“Michael I can’t,” you whine, despite the roll of your hips, and your dilated pupils.

“Shhhh, stop squirming,” he flips you onto your stomach, laying on top of him, chest pressed into the couch, ass up. “What did I say about squirming?” His palm meets your left cheek. You yelp in pain and pleasure, biting your bottom lip.

“You gonna listen now? You gonna be a good girl?” He teased, striking your right cheek with a stinging slap that surely leaves a red mark. You whimper, nodding.

“Hmmm? That’s not answer,” he tsks, striking again causing you to yelp.

“Yes-yes, I’ll be good Michael,” your clit throbs. Another broken moan leaves your lips as he hauls you back up to straddle him, thrusting upwards into your cunt. Each thrust hits your g-spot instantly, sending sensations throughout your entire body.

Michael chuckled at your whimpering and moaning, teasing you even further by applying a thumb to roll your clit, while the other played with your tits, kneading and punching your nipples playfully.

“Michael I can’t, I can’t, I’m about to-“ you gasp.

“You’re about to cum?” He cooed. “Cum all over my cock then,” he leaned in to whisper in your ear. He sped up the pace of his thrusting and clit stimulation, leaning forwards to latch onto your nipple, sucking and biting softly.

The triple stimulation was too much, causing the coil in your stomach to snap, your orgasm riding in waves as you arched into his touch, walls clenching and unclenching around his length.

“That’s it, good girl,” he praised, thumb brushing against your flushed cheek, the leather of his fingerless gloves rough against your face. “Enjoy the ride?” He smirked, leaning back and resting his arms lazily on the couch head behind him.

“Better than any Porsche or Lamborghini,” you leaned in to kiss his jawline, resting your hands on his shoulders.

BONUS PHOTOS! 😋🤭

🍒⭐️- @introverted-werido360 @lovelyreadersposts @yeaitsapplehead @out-of-this-world-mj @feenin4dietcoke @filthytabloidpress @botdfaholic @ttangerinexo @justboredroaming @winnieforsure @lelewright1234 @cvntclip @mikaylajacksonnn @binx1004 @zanyana626 @chrollosblackgf66 @mjjbabyy

ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐ Mwah, bye lovelies!

[pyt-mjdiaries]

U gotta do more on the Jackson family affair story with plus size reader, cause babe I am eating it up! It’s so good and I’d totally love to see where it goes. Maybe some more shenanigans with Michael? Anyways no worries or pressure bestie 💋❤️

Aww, thank you so much bestie! 💗 I'm so glad you and other readers are enjoying the series. I didn't expect to turn it into a series, honestly. This one's a very spicy one so brace yourself! I'll be posting more on this series as well.

A Jackson Family Affair: Part Three🔞🫦🍓

Warnings/Tags: SMUT, 18+, MDNI, strong sexual content and language, Jaafar x curvy fem reader, Michael x curvy fem reader, family drama, cheating (I don't condone this at all in real life) fingering, dirty talk, fucking on the kitchen counter, petnames such as babygirl, babe, darlin', Michael being an absolute flirt, seducer, pervert and troublemaker, Jermajesty being a pervert and nosy, arguments, kissing, touching, food play, breast play.

“Baby, please. It’s been two days. Can we please talk?”

Jaafar refused to stop following you around the house. Ever since the ordeal at the restaurant, he had been desperately trying to get you to speak to him. You had given him the silent treatment for almost a week, and it was clearly eating him alive.

“Look, I really want to talk about this. I—I don’t want you to stay mad at me.”

You didn’t even bother looking at him as you stepped into your walk-in closet and began searching through your clothes for something to wear that evening. You had spent most of the week answering calls and booking clients, leaving you with little patience for his attempts to get your attention. It was so intense that he had been sleeping in the living room on the couch.

Latoya, Rebbie, and Janet would call to check on you, feeling embarrassed for their nephew's behavior at dinner. Jaafar, meanwhile, would receive a stern talking-to from his father, Jermaine. Jermajesty, unable to resist, would chime in with jokes and reminders about the incident in the ladies' room. You didn’t hear from Michael, and that was because Jaafar had told him not to reach out to you.

Jaafar stood in the doorway, watching as you searched through your clothes until you finally found your satin red lace babydoll nightgown. You pulled it from the rack and turned to leave, but Jaafar stepped in front of you.

He planted both hands against the walls on either side of the doorway, blocking your path. You looked up at him. His jaw tightened, and you noticed his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“I’m not letting you pass until you agree to talk to me,” Jaafar said. His voice was serious, but beneath it was a hint of desperation.

You stood there silently, weighing your options. You could push past him, or you could simply stand there and make him wait.

Part of you wanted to see how long he would continue pleading for your attention. You hadn't forgotten what had happened between you two in the ladies' room at the restaurant, the way he fucked you, the intensity, the possessiveness, and the side of Jaafar you hadn't expected to see.

You wondered whether that side of him would appear again. At the same time, you wondered if there was another side of him waiting to surface, the softer, more vulnerable side in your fantasy.

“I’m not moving, babe,” he warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

You remained silent, deliberately avoiding his gaze. You wanted him to understand how deeply he'd embarrassed you in front of his family. More than that, you wanted him to sit with the consequences for a little while longer.

“I hate this,” Jaafar finally admitted. “I hate the silent treatment you're giving me. I hate that you won't even look at me.”

He lowered his hands from the walls and took a small step closer. “Will you at least let me hold your hand?” he asked quietly. “Anything. Just give me something that tells me I still exist to you.” His expression fell. “That I’m still your fiancé.”

"No, let it simmer for a moment longer," you thought, your eyes fixed on Jaafar. You were well-versed in his tactics, and you weren't about to let him use the 'I'm still your fiancé' card so easily this time.

"'I am still your fiancé,'" he declared, his voice steady and serious, devoid of any playfulness. His eyes were pleading, reflecting the gravity of the situation. "That beast, or whatever the hell came out of me, came out because my uncle thinks he could challenge, but I cannot let us resort to fucking, especially in public, every time we disagree. As much as I want to keep doing that whenever I have to prove you wrong, especially when my uncle tries to steal you from me, I want us to talk now and then. We must talk, as we have always done."

This asshole, you thought. You loved him being serious, but he was not backing out.

He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "I want to spend the rest of my life with you, but we cannot let every minor altercation turn into a battle. I made a mistake in deciding what you should or shouldn't eat, and I apologize. But we must communicate, truly communicate, to resolve our issues."He breathed out, reaching toward your face as if he wanted to touch you, but stopped himself. Instead, he lowered his hand and walked away.

You stood there, slowly breathing out as a sting settled in the pit of your stomach. It wasn’t what he had said that was wrong. It was what he hadn’t said. Not once had he apologized.

No “I’m sorry.” No “Please forgive me.” Nothing.

You watched him walk away, realizing that after everything that had happened, he still hadn’t apologized for hurting or embarrassing you.

That same night, you found yourself in the familiar routine of preparing for bed. After a shower, you slipped into your nightgown, the soft fabric a comforting embrace against your skin. You padded into the kitchen, the hum of the kettle filling the silence as you made your cup of tea. Jaafar was already asleep on the couch, his features soft and peaceful, resembling a prince from a fairy tale. He was a pretty sleeper.

You turned off the main lights in the bedroom, opting for the warm glow of the lamp on the dresser. Settling into your blankets, you picked up a romance novel, the dog-eared pages marking your progress. The TV flickered to life, its volume low, as you scrolled through the options, eventually settling on a movie. The words on the page began to blur, your mind wandering between the story and the noise from the TV.

The buzzing of your phone pulled you back to reality. Groaning, you closed your book and reached for the phone. Jermajesty's name flashed on the screen. "What does he want?" you muttered, answering the call. "Hello?"

"Damn, mami, why you gotta answer like that?" Jermajesty exclaimed, taken aback.

"Don't call me mami, Maj," you snapped. "I'm your soon-to-be sister-in-law."

Jermajesty chuckled. "I know that; I'm not stupid. I just wanted to check on you, make sure you're doing okay after…you know."

You raised an eyebrow, suspicious. "And what, exactly, do you want to know? Why the hell do you want to know?"

"Well, can’t a brotha be curious? I was just curious about what happened in the ladies' room.”

You rolled your eyes. “You already know what happened. You heard it yourself, asshole.”

“Shit, I just wanted to know if he put in that work cause you know you two are getting married one day.”

You groaned. “Okay, yes, he did, end of story. That’s all you wanted to know?”

“Well, yeah, and…I wanted to know…what you're wearing," he added, his voice taking on a suggestive tone. You could hear him licking his lips.

"Jermajesty, you fucking pervert!" you exclaimed, outraged. "I'm hanging up now."

"Wait, wait, wait!" he pleaded, but you'd already ended the call, put it on Do Not Disturb, placing the phone back on the dresser with a huff. Your mood had been completely thrown off by Jermajesty's call, and you no longer felt like reading or watching TV. With a sigh, you turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness. You slipped under the covers, your mind racing with thoughts of the day's events, and drifted off to a fitful sleep.

The next morning, you were in the kitchen, still in your nightgown, the scent of steeped tea filling the air as you cooked breakfast and prepared an order for your online celebrity chef business. Jaafar entered, dressed in casual clothes. He grabbed an apple juice from the fridge, taking a sip as he offered you a quiet "Good morning." You barely spared him a glance, your focus on measuring out the ingredients for your homemade pancakes.

He knew to leave you alone. He left the kitchen, retreating to the living room that was just feet away. The sound of the TV filled the silence, the channel flicking from one news report to another, each one buzzing with excitement about the red carpet premiere of Jaafar's latest film. He sighed, settling on a channel that seemed to have missed the memo, instead showing an old black-and-white movie.

You meticulously measured out the dry ingredients for your pancakes before washing and drying your hands. As you reached for the carrots and celery, three sharp knocks echoed through the house. Jaafar, who had been sulking on the couch, got up to answer the door. Upon opening it, he found his uncle Michael standing there.

"Oh…what are you doing here?" Jaafar asked, surprised and with a hint of unease. Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the name.

"I'm not here to cause any trouble," Michael replied, his voice soft and sweet as cotton candy. "I just wanted to drop by and see how you both are doing." You slowed your chopping, straining to hear their conversation.

"We're fine, Uncle Mike," Jaafar said, his tone guarded.

"Can I come in? Just to sit and have a drink?" Michael asked. There was a pause before Jaafar responded.

"Yeah…sure, fine." The door clicked shut, and you heard Jaafar's footsteps retreat.

A moment later, the distinct scent of Michael's cologne filled the air as he entered the living room. You could feel his presence, even without looking up from your task. He stood at the entrance to the kitchen, his hands in his pockets, dressed in a black jacket with gold cuffs and matching black pants, his dark caramel-colored shoes gleaming. His shoulder-length hair was shiny with bits of curls.

He saw you at the center island, a friendly smile spreading across his chiseled face as he waved. "Mornin’, darlin’," he greeted.

"Morning, Mr. J—I mean, Michael," you stammered, suddenly feeling flustered. A carrot slice slipped from your grasp, landing on the floor. You quickly picked it up, tossing it into the compost bin and washing your hands.

"You look…cozy," Michael remarked, a charming smile spreading across his face. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, knowing he was checking you out.

"Thanks," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze as you returned to your task.

Michael took a seat on the couch, seemingly unfazed by the TV. Jaafar fetched him a bottle of orange juice from the fridge, his favorite drink. "Thanks, nephew," Michael said, taking a couple of sips before setting it down on the coffee table. “I see she’s been busy,” he commented, nodding towards you.

Jaafar glanced at you, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Yeah, she has. She doesn't like to be disturbed while she's working."

The two of them fell into an easy conversation about upcoming interviews and tour dates, the tension from the restaurant incident seemingly forgotten. You were in the midst of combining the wet and dry ingredients for the pancakes when Jaafar's phone began to shrill. He answered after several rings, his sigh of frustration echoing through the room as he spoke to his agent.

"Hold on, Uncle Mike. I have to take this," he said, stepping out of the room.

Michael remained on the couch, the TV casting a flickering glow on his face as he absently watched. You tried to focus on your task, but his presence, even from a distance, was a distraction. He sat there, legs spread, fingers idly playing with the rings on his hands. You took a sip of your honey citrus tea, savoring the warmth that spread through you, before bending down to retrieve a plate for the pancakes.

As you straightened up, you found Michael standing at the kitchen entrance, hands casually tucked into his pockets.

You couldn't help but startle, your heart pounding in your chest. "Um…hi," you managed to say.

"Hello there," Michael replied, his voice sultry and poised. "Busy, I see." He took a step closer, his eyes scanning the ingredients laid out on the counter. "Got a lot going on, it seems."

You pressed your lips together, a small noise of acknowledgment escaping you. "Mm-hmm."

"Need some help?" Michael offered.

You shook your head, your arms beginning to tremble as you ladled the pancake batter onto the hot pan. The batter sizzled, the sound filling the silence between you. Michael moved closer, his body heat and the scent of his cologne enveloping you as he approached the counter.

"You're burdened," he observed. "Let me help you out." His hand closed over yours, gently taking the ladle from your grasp. "Go and drink your tea," he instructed, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitated for a moment before doing as he said, taking a sip of your now lukewarm tea. You watched him as he took over, his hands moving with ease and confidence as he ladled the batter onto the pan and flipped the pancakes with great skill.

He plated two stacks of pancakes, a generous serving, and handed them to you. "Eat," he said, his voice soft. "I know you haven't eaten."

“Okay…” Your stomach was rumbling, and you ate the pancakes. The relief came over you; you didn’t realize how hungry you were. You ate it all, and Michael seemed content. “Thank you.”

Michael turned to you. “You’re welcome. You shouldn’t be cooking on an empty stomach.”

“It’s a bad habit, I know. I um—sort of selfless when it comes to my culinary business.”

Michael looked at you, his eyes softening as he took in your determined expression. "Nothing is wrong with being selfless, but you must remember to take care of yourself too. Your health and well-being are just as important as your work."

You felt a warmth spread through you at his words, flattered that he cared. "I appreciate that, Michael," you said. "But I can't stop now. I have orders to fulfill, and I can't afford to take a break."

Michael's expression turned serious, and he stepped closer to you. "I understand your dedication, but I won't let you push yourself too hard. Let me help you.”

"No, I've got it," you insisted, your voice hurried as you moved to the cutting board to gather the bundle of celery. Michael reached out, trying to take the celery and cutting board from you.

"Hey, slow down for a bit, darlin',” You gave him a gentle but firm nudge in the ribs, your impatience getting the better of you.

"Michael, please," you insisted, trying to wriggle out of his grasp. "I need to prep this order. I can't have you interfering like this." There was a brief struggle as you attempted to reclaim your spot at the counter, Michael's hands grasping at your arms, trying to keep you from rushing off.

Before you could protest, he was behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him. Hot breath fanned over your ear. You felt your breath hitch, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned into his embrace. Your hands fell gently on his arms, feeling caged. “M–Michael, please…”

"Your heart's racin’," Michael murmured, his voice a low, sultry purr. "I can feel you tremblin’ in my arms. I affect you, don't I?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt a warmth pooling between your legs. You couldn’t say anything. You were frozen. “Tell me, do I?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I…I have a favor to ask, if you don't mind me asking."

"What is it that you desire?" he murmured, his breath hot on your ear and neck. His lips were practically touching your neck.

You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts of your fantasy. "Michael," you began, your voice unsteady, "I thought about the offer. I want…I want a preview of what you promised."

Michael's grip on you tightened; he took your chin, making you look at him, his eyes searching yours. "What do you want, darlin’?" he asked, low and husky.

“I want you to fulfill a fantasy of mine.” You blurted out. “Oh shit—why did I say that!”

Michael's chuckle was low and amused, his thumb brushing your lower lip in a maddeningly slow motion. "Tell me what it is, and I'll do it," he promised, his voice smooth as velvet. You felt your knees threaten to buckle.

"No, forget I even asked," you stammered, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "That was so wrong of me. I'm sorry, Mr. J—I mean, Michael." You tried to pull away, but Michael's grip on you tightened, his other hand roaming down to your leg, lifting the hem of your babydoll nightgown, his fingers digging softly into your flesh.

"You were lost in thought at dinner," he murmured, his lips grazing your neck. "I couldn't help but notice. You were fantasizing, weren't you?" His voice was sending vibrations through you. "About who?"

You knew this was wrong, that Jaafar could walk in at any moment, but there was a part of you that craved this, that needed this contact with Michael. You let out a whimper, your lips pressed together as you tried to fight the urge to give in to him.

Michael chuckled darkly, his fingers never stopping their slow, maddening caress. "It was about me, wasn't it?" he whispered, his breath hot on your neck. "I wonder what I did in the fantasy that made you act the way you did. Was I doing this? Touching your leg? Mmmh?"

"Y–yes," you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth to stifle a moan.

Michael chuckled, a low, smooth sound. "Mmm, just touching your leg like this, huh?" he murmured, his fingers tracing patterns on your thigh. "Tell me, what else was I doing? Let's act this out, right here, right now."

Your mind raced, your heart pounding in your chest. This was Michael Jackson, the man you'd crushed on for years, and now he was here, touching you, wanting you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "You were…feeding me and fingering me at the same time."

Michael's eyes gleamed with interest. "Oh, really?" he said, reaching for a strawberry from the bowl on the counter. He rubbed it gently across your lips, the sweet juice coating them. "And what, exactly, was I saying to you?"

You swallowed hard, knuckles turning white as your hands gripped the counter for support. "You were telling me, 'Let me feed you, babygirl,' and you fed me using a fork."

Michael hummed, a satisfied sound, as he brought the strawberry to your lips. "Let's make some adjustments, hmm?" he said in a low purr. "I'm going to use my hands instead. Is that alright, babygirl?" He didn't wait for your response, his other hand already moving to your waist, tracing sensual patterns on your skin.

You felt your legs parting of their own accord, your body pressing back against his hardness. Michael's hand moved from your waist to your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. "Open your mouth for me, babygirl," he ordered, his voice husky with desire.

You opened your mouth, and Michael guided the strawberry inside, his gaze locked onto yours as you bit into the juicy fruit. He let out a low groan, licking his fingers clean. "Delicious," he murmured, reaching for another strawberry. He fed it to you, his body pressing against yours, his hardness evident. You leaned back into him, rubbing against him instinctively, and he rewarded you with a low moan.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hand trailing down to your stomach, feeling the soft flesh. "I love a woman who indulges, who takes care of herself. And the fact that Jaafar said what he said at dinner about you… Well, let's just say it's enough to make me want to claim you as mine." His fingers found your hardened nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger.

“Ohmmf,” You moaned out, feeling him kneading and pinching your breasts. "This wasn't part of the fantasy," you protested.

"I said I was making adjustments." His fingers then traveled down to your center, pressing gently yet firmly against your clit. You moaned, the sound muffled by the strawberry in your mouth, your body writhing against his hand.

"Oh my—mmff," you muffled, swallowing quickly. "Wait," you gasped, turning to face Michael. But he was already there, his hands back on your slick, his eyes locked onto yours.

"Is this real, or am I still lost in my fantasy?" you panted, your heart racing.

Michael leaned in, his voice a low, sultry whisper. "This is very real, babygirl," he murmured, pressing against you. "Let me show you." He reached for another strawberry, guiding it to your lips. As you took your first bite, his fingers thrust into you, filling you completely. You cried out, your body arching against his. "Oh fuck—Mr. Jackson," you gasped, the name slipping out before you could stop it.

"No, no, babygirl, you don't call me that," Michael chuckled, taking his fingers out and leaving you feeling empty. "Not yet, anyway," he added with a teasing wink. "And certainly not when Jaafar could walk in at any moment, which I don’t mind. I don’t care, actually."

“What the f—” You blushed, not just because he said he didn’t care, but realizing your slip-up. "I'm sorry, Michael," you said, quickly correcting yourself. "I didn't mean to—"

"Say it," Michael interrupted, caressing your quivering lips. "Say, 'I'm sorry, Daddy.' I heard you mumble it at dinner, didn't I?"

Your eyes widened, shock coursing through you. You hadn't realized you'd voiced your fantasy out loud, and now Michael was using it against you. "I…I'm sorry, Daddy," you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Say, 'Please, Daddy,'" Michael murmured, sucking his teeth. "You whispered it at the table, remember? I heard you. I heard it all. Now say it."

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flaming with embarrassment. "Please, Daddy," you whispered.

"Please, what, darlin'?" Michael prompted, his eyes gleaming with desire. "Or else I won't act out your fantasy."

You took a deep breath, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please, finger me, Daddy. I promise I won't call you Mr. Jackson."

“Good girl.” Michael's fingers were back inside you in an instant, pumping slowly at first, then building to a steady rhythm. You let out a moan, your eyes fluttering closed. “Mmmff, yes!”

"Mmm, you feel so good on my fingers, babygirl," Michael growled, licking your earlobe. "You like me finger-fucking you on this counter, knowing Jaafar could walk in at any moment? Knowing he could hear you, hear you calling me Daddy?"

"Yes, I do," you gasped, your body writhing against his hand. You cried out as he smacked your thigh, the sharp sting sending a jolt of pleasure through you.

"Louder, babygirl," Michael ordered, grunting as he curled his fingers inside of you. He smacked you again when you didn't respond.

"Yes, I do!" you cried out, your body arching against his hand. "I love it! I fucking love it!”

"You better love it. Give me those juicy lips," Michael growled, taking your face in his hands. He pressed his lips to yours, his kiss passionate and demanding. You gasped, taken aback by his sudden intensity, but your body betrayed you, melting into him. He tasted different, more experienced, more…seasoned. His tongue danced with yours, exploring your mouth with a confidence that left you breathless.

He pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your lips. "Mmm, you taste divine, babygirl. How dare I not have tasted you sooner, before you met Jaafar? I want to feel you come undone on my fingers, right now." He plunged his fingers back into you.

Your hips moved in rhythm with his thrusts, your body coiling tighter and tighter with each stroke. You could feel the orgasm building, your breath coming in short gasps. "Michael," you whimpered, your nails digging into his clothed, broad shoulders.

"Let it go, babygirl,” he urged. "Cum for me."

Your body shattered, your climax washing over you in waves. “Mmfff, nngh fuck!” You clung to him, your legs wrapping around his waist, a cry escaping your lips. Michael held you close, his fingers still moving inside you, drawing out your orgasm until you were left boneless and panting in his arms.

As your body came down from the high, you realized what you'd done. "Oh no," you gasped, pushing him away, your eyes wide with panic. "Don't tell me we…I mean, I…"

Michael chuckled, a satisfied smirk on his lips. "Yes, we did, and it was incredible," he said, not a shred of remorse in his voice as he licked his fingers. "And don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

Jaafar's voice echoed through the room, snapping you both back to reality. "Hey, babe," he called out, walking into the living room. "You alright? You look flushed."

"I'm…fine," you stammered, turning to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Michael was just…helping me with something. That's all." You forced a smile, hugging Jaafar tightly, guilt gnawing at you. "You look great," you added, with forced cheerfulness.

You could still feel the remnants of Michael's touch, the ghost of his fingers lingering inside you, and it made you feel guilty for the intimate act you'd just shared with his uncle.

"Hey, Uncle Mike, my dad wants you and me to meet him at his house to talk about some important stuff," Jaafar said, turning to Michael.

"Good, I've been meaning to talk to him too," Michael replied, his voice casual. He brushed past you, his fingers grazing your arm and shoulder, a deliberate, sensual touch. He looked back at you, a wink and a smirk gracing his lips before he followed Jaafar out the door. You let out a shaky breath, your body sagging as you slumped to the floor, the reality of what had just happened crashing down on you.

[pyt-mjdiaries]

Hello, my beautiful people!🩷 I’m amazed that I’ve been receiving many requests and love since I joined the Tumblr community a month ago. It's still a slow start but I'm growing little by little. Also, sorry it takes me a while to write and post your requests!😅 It's a lot of work writing and navigating this app.

Quick announcement! I will be accepting requests until 8/28. I will be starting classes this Fall semester and will be busy. It's only temporary and I will most likely post my own stories every two weeks, if I have the time.

I appreciate all of you and I’m more determined to keep writing some amazing fanfics.🩷

[kissmyglxck]

YEAH , NEVERMIND. . . 𑣲⋆ (18+)

♯ Jermajesty Jackson x OFmodelgf!reader series m.list

“Mmhmm,” you push at his head. “Maj.” you whine, brows furrowed as you pout.

He hums against your clit, eyes low and full of lust as he looks up at you. “Yeah mama?” He mumbles as he runs his hands over your thighs, giving you a soft and reassuring squeeze.

You moan, letting out a weak cry as your eyes roll back, his tongue steady abusing your slit. “You eat me so good..” you whimper, eyes watering from just how good you felt.

He grins against your pussy, giving it a few kisses before he’s looking at you again. “Yeah baby?” The tone is his voice teasing and low.

You nod, completely dazed. “Yeah..”

He just shakes his head with a smile before diving back in, eating you out like never before.

“Oh m’god,” you mewl, whining loudly as you try to turn your body away from the overwhelming sensation. Your thighs fight to close, legs shaking as Jermajesty holds them down.

“M’so close pa,” you moan, nails running over his head as you bite your lip. He groans against your clit, tongue fucking you even slower. “Gimme that shit bae.”

“Hnnh. .should eat me like this for a video—“

Jermajesty smacks his lips, your little comment instantly throwing him off causing him to shoot up. “Man watch out.” he mutters as he walks around the bed, shaking his head.

You gasp at the lost feeling glaring up at him as he licks his lips and wipes his mouth. “Whattt!” You whine.

“Just threw me all the way off talking about a fucking video. Better play with your pussy or sum.”

“You really gon stop cause I said that?!” You question as you sit up. But you notice him ignoring you. “Bae!” You shout and throw your hands up.

“Yep.” He answers simply, sliding your leg over as he sits in the bed next to you, turning the tv back on.

You frown, looking over at him. “You really hate the idea of filming with me that bad!? Okay I won’t say nothing, just come back.” You whine, pulling at his arm.

“Mm-nn,” he shakes his head and grabs his snacks off the nightstand before beginning to eat them.

You whine, honestly only mad because he stopped munching on you.

“Okay I won’t mention it again, can you just—“ he covers your mouth with a hand, shushing you as you lean back against the pillows, pouting.

He brings a chip to your mouth and you eat it, nearly biting his fingers off as you glare at him.

“You such a buzzkill,” you mutter, crossing your arms over your chest and forcing yourself to watch the movie as he places a kiss to your cheek.

kissmyglxck — don’t copy my work, ask to translate, & if you recreate anything pls tag me <3

❤︎ tags: @flygirlarchivee @ebvnydesires @dollthoughtz @mikaylajacksonnn @anglfac @youluvyanni @syrndollie @theyluvchanel @blkkbratt @crypytlc @sunsetdrvr @bambijackson @hyunzmj @vvvolatilee @kzeneeee

[urdeftones-grrrl]

Rest In Paradise Angelface ❤️

29 August 1958 - 25 June 2009

miss and love you forever

[pyt-mjdiaries]

Can you do one where plus size reader and Michael lose each other's virginitys to each other during off the wall and later on during wembley concert after human nature Michael wants to get rid of his adrenaline so he take it out on reader and she ends up nonstop squirting until almost the next day cause she couldn't sleep due to her body shaking and squirting each time she moves and Michael just smiles and tells her now I have breakfast and he goes between her legs and makes it worse for her and she finally stops midday and michael does after care for her.

Whew! I'm exhausted, and I need a nap and a cold glass of iced peach tea. I hope you enjoy this one.

His Geyser Queen💦🔞

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, Smut, explicit sexual content and language, Michael x plus-sized f!reader, LOTS of squirting, fingering, oral, multiple orgasms, both lose their virginity at the concert, Michael being obsessed, desperate, and possessed, I don't know what else to put because a lot goes on!

"Michael, babe?" A crimson blush spread across your cheeks as you stepped behind the stage curtains, finding him taping his fingers in front of a mirror. His shoulder-length curly hair was damp, framing his face, and his off-white jacket hung loosely on his shoulders, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of his chest. His leather pants hugged his legs, and his bambi eyes sparkled with curiosity as he turned to face you.

"Yes, hon?" he asked, a small smile playing on his lips.

You took a deep breath, your voice barely audible. "I…I think I'm ready, Michael. For us to…to take the next step." You shifted uncomfortably, your legs rubbing together as you spoke. You were wearing your favorite pink and white plaid dress, the hem riding dangerously high, your thick legs clad in lacy black stockings. Your thick curly hair was parted to one side, cascading down your back.

Michael watched you for a moment, his expression soft but curious. “No. Tell me.” His voice was gentle. “It must be important.”

“No, it’s n-nothing. I’ll, um…tell you some other time.”

Michael sighed, a small smile forming on his lips. “Babe, please turn around,” he said with a light chuckle. “You’re already here, and I don’t have to go back on stage for another ten minutes. Tell me.”

You slowly turned around, your legs rubbing together nervously as you faced him. “Michael, we’ve… b-been together for a year now, and—”

“Babe, come over here.” Michael held out his arms, motioning for you to come closer.

You walked toward him, nervously rubbing your arms and biting your lower lip. Once you were within reach, he wrapped his arms around you and gently swayed you from side to side.

“What’s wrong?”

You rested your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in the warm, sweet scent of his cologne. “Nothing…I’m just…” You hesitated. “You know, anxious about telling you this. Ugh, how do I even say it without feeling ridiculous?” Your face grew warm, and you could barely bring yourself to look at him.

Michael chuckled softly and gently cupped your face, encouraging you to meet his eyes. “You’re making me anxious,” he teased gently. “Just tell me, hon. I won’t laugh at you or judge you. You can always tell me anything. You know that.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

You took a deep breath and slowly opened your eyes. His shoulder-length curly hair, damp from the concert, clung to his face in wet tendrils, framing his bambi eyes that sparkled with curiosity. Those beautiful eyes staring back at you were enough to make your heart race.

“Michael…I want us to take our relationship to the next level.”

Michael tilted his head, his expression curious. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…we’re both, you know…virgins.” You swallowed nervously. “I’ve been thinking about us taking that step together.”

The two of you had talked about it before. You had imagined your first time together being romantic, intimate, and filled with love and trust. You had talked about flowers, soft candlelight, comfortable blankets, and romantic music playing in the background. Most importantly, you wanted to take your time with each other, making sure you both felt safe and comfortable.

But tonight, you finally felt ready.

“Michael, I want us to lose our virginity…together.”

The words finally left your mouth, and you immediately felt as though all the air had been pulled from your lungs. You covered your face with both hands, mortified.

Michael's eyebrow lifted, followed by a shy, amused smile. “Oh, babe…that's what it was?” He let out a soft chuckle. “You scared me for a moment.”

He looked at your flushed face before gently pulling your hands away. “Come here. You don't have to be embarrassed.”

You whined, hitting him playfully in the chest. "I am telling you this at your concert. Ughh, it's embarrassing. But I really wanted to tell you before you got busy."

He chuckled, reaching out and grabbing your hands. "It's a good thing you're telling me now, because…I'm ready to take things to the next level." He pulled you close, his fingertips, taped for the concert, brushing against your cheek. "I've been waiting for this. And I promise, it's going to be incredible."

You gasped, feeling his hard bulge press against you. "Michael, you want to do this now?" You asked, surprised.

He nodded, a shy smile playing on his lips. "Yes, babe. Sorry, I've been hard all day because of you. Look at you, wearing that dress that hugs your curves. It's been driving me crazy. You drive me crazy."

You blushed, flattered by his words. "But Michael, you have to get back on stage in ten minutes."

"I'll tell Brad to give me an extra five minutes," he said, already pulling you towards the backstage area. You protested, but he was determined, hurrying you past crowds of stage workers. Brad spotted Michael, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Michael, you're up in eight minutes—"

"Brad, could you give me an extra five minutes?" Michael asked, panting slightly. "I've got something important to handle."

Brad looked at you, then back at Michael, crossing his arms. "Five extra minutes? I mean, alright, but—"

"Thanks!" Michael brushed past Brad, pulling you deeper into the backstage area, his heart pounding with anticipation. You could feel the electricity in the air, the excitement of the concert still buzzing around you. This was really happening. You were about to lose your virginity with Michael, right here, right now.

Michael led you to a plush couch in his dressing room, his hands never leaving your waist as he kissed you deeply. He broke the kiss, his breath ragged, and looked into your eyes.

"Do you want this, babe?" he asked huskily. "Do you want to do this? Here? Now?"

You nodded, eyes filled with love and desire. "Yes, Michael. I want this. I want you."

He groaned, his hands sliding down to your thick thighs, hiking up your dress. He found the hem, pushing it up further, his long fingers brushing against your panties. You gasped, your hips bucking slightly.

"Michael," you moaned, your hands fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. You helped him, pulling it off, revealing his toned chest. You ran your hands over his abs, feeling the hard planes of muscle.

He unhooked your bra, his hands finding your big, round breasts, squeezing gently. You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps. “Wow, these feel so good in my hands. They’re so big and beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” He leaned down, his mouth and tongue finding your nipple, sucking it in. “They taste even better.” You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close.

"Michael," you panted, "I…I want you inside me. Now."

He was buried in your chest, drunk on your scent and the taste of your breasts. “Oh babe, I want to be inside you so bad, but I have to feel and taste your other sweet lips first. C’mere.” He growled, his hands sliding down to your panties, pushing them aside. He took the tapes off his fingers. He slipped a finger inside you, and you moaned, your hips moving in time with his hand. “Is this okay? Does it hurt?”

You panted, gazing into his eyes. “A little, but you can keep going, Michael.”

He added another finger, his thumb finding your clit, rubbing it in slow, steady circles. “So wet f’me. So beautifully wet and tight. Does it feel good?”

"Yes, it feels good, Michael," you gasped. "Please. I can't wait any longer. You don’t even have to taste me. I just want you inside me."

“I know, love. I know.” He kissed your lips, holding your chin up. “Be patient, love. Be patient.”

He groaned, standing up and pushing his pants down, revealing his hard length. “Wait, let me grab a condom. I know Brad keeps them here somewhere.” He grabbed a condom from a nearby table, sheathing himself quickly. He guided you back onto the couch, your thick thighs spreading wide as he positioned himself at your entrance.

"Are you ready, babe?" he asked, his voice ragged with desire.

You nodded, your eyes locked with his. "Yes, Michael. I'm ready."

And with one thrust, he was inside you, filling you completely. You cried out, your fingers digging into his back, your body arching to meet his. “O–oh my mmff!!”

His eyes went wide, cupping your face as he peppered you with kisses. “Baby, are you okay? Did I hurt you? Does it hurt?”

You chuckled nervously, panting. “Just a little. But I’m fine, please keep going.”

He began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm, each stroke pushing you closer to the edge.

"Michael," you moaned, "Yes. Oh god, yes. Harder. Faster. Please."

He obliged, his body slamming into yours, each thrust pushing you closer to your release. You could feel it building, your body tensing, your breath coming in short gasps. But there was something odd happening. You felt a strange pressure in your lower abdomen, like you needed to urinate. You pressed a hand on Michael's chest, signaling him to slow down.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He asked, concern etched on his face, but he didn't slow down.

"I…I think I need to…to pee," you admitted, your face flushing with embarrassment.

Michael stopped, his eyes widening. "What? Now?" He started to pull out, but you grabbed his wrist, holding him in place.

"No, Michael, wait!" You cried out, your body convulsing as an intense orgasm washed over you. "Oh god, yes! Yes! Don't stop!"

He held you, his body shuddering as he came with you, his voice mingling with yours as he groaned, "Babe. Oh god, yes! Yes!"

As you both came down, he collapsed on top of you, his body slick with sweat, his heart pounding in time with yours. He looked into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "I love you, babe," he whispered. "That was…incredible."

You smiled back, your body still trembling with aftershocks. "I love you too, Michael," you replied, your voice filled with contentment. “You should head back to the stage.” You didn’t even realize the pool you left on the couch.

"I can't believe we just did that," Michael murmured, still in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest as his hands roamed over your curves, pulling you into a searing kiss. The backstage area is a flurry of activity, crew members rushing to and fro.

"Lost our virginity at your concert, no less," you added, a thrill coursing through you despite the sting of wrongness having sex in the dressing room, in private. Michael's hands were still on your hips; he leaned back to look at you, his eyes dark with desire, a soft expression on his face that turned into one of primal hunger.

"We'll remember this moment forever, love," he said, his voice low and passionate, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "I'm still thinking about it, in fact. The adrenaline's pumping, and I want more. Right here, right now." His hands drifted down to your inner thighs, feeling the heat that has gathered there, the evidence of your desire dampening your panties.

"And I see you left a little something on the couch," he said, a smirk playing on his lips.

You blink, confused, then feel your face flush as you realize what he's talking about. "Michael, we can't," you protested, your body betraying you by arching into his touch. "You're about to perform your last song. We can't do this here, not with everyone running around."

He silenced you with a kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, exploring every inch, claiming you. He pulls back, his chest heaving with desire, and takes your hand, leading you deeper into the backstage area. He pressed you against the wall, his body pinning you in place, his hands found the hem of your shirt, pulling it up passed you waist in one smooth motion. He ripped the stockings off your legs, tossing the remnants away.

“Michael, why did you do that?” Your breath hitched as his fingers trailed down your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"I’ll get you another one. I want to see something, love," his voice hoarse with desire, taking the tape off his fingers. "Just hold on." He hiked up your skirt, pulling your damp underwear down, and you gasp as he stood up and pressed his body against yours, his fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. “Spread them wider f’me, babe.”

"Mmff," you moaned, your hands gripping Michael's sweat-slicked chest as he sank his fingers into you, your eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy. The hum of cheering crowds echoed through the walls; the danger of being caught by the crew only added fuel to the fire burning within you, your body responding to Michael's touch with reckless abandon.

His fingers moved with expert precision, parting your slick folds, thrusting into you with increasing speed. You could feel your body tensing, your core clenching around him as he found that sweet spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"So wet, so tight, and so fucking beautiful," he growled, his voice hoarse with desire. "I'm gonna make you squirt all over the floor, baby. Make you mark this backstage with your pleasure."

“Hmmff.” You let out a whimper as he withdrew his fingers, but your protest died on your lips as he dropped to his knees, his mouth replacing his fingers. His tongue flicked against your clit, making your thighs clamp together as a jolt of electricity shot through you.

"No, no, don't hide from me, love," he said, prying your thighs apart with his strong hands. "I need to taste you, all of you." His mouth was insatiable, his tongue and fingers working in tandem, driving you closer and closer to the edge. The pressure in your lower abdomen built, and you felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation.

"Michael, I think I'm gonna pee," you mewled, pushing his head away, your body tensing.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire. "I don't care, baby. Let it go. Come for me. I want all of you, everything you've got." His fingers curled inside you, his tongue flicking against your clit, his free hand pressed on your belly, and you were lost, your body convulsing as a warm rush escaped you, coating his tongue.

"Yes, love. That's it. My squirt queen. Give it all to me," he groaned, lapping up every drop, his face a picture of satisfaction as he rode out your high, his tongue gentle as it coaxed the last shudders from your body.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, my queen," Michael panted, helping you back into your clothes, his face still glistening with your arousal. "I needed that, more than you know. It's fueling me for the rest of the show. But don't worry, I'm not done with you yet." He pressed a hard, hungry kiss to your lips, leaving you breathless and eager for more. With that, he turned and strode back onto the stage, leaving you with a pounding heart and a body already aching for his touch.

"Shit, Michael, I can't. Please, it's too much," you gasped, your fingers tangled in his hair as he feasted on you, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to drive you to the brink of ecstasy. He had kept his promise, and now, in the candle-lit hotel room, he was determined to make you squirt again and again. His face already drenched in your arousal.

"Yes, you can, my squirt queen," he growled, his eyes locked onto yours, dark with desire. "I want to see you squirt all over this bed, love. I want to drown in your pleasure." He had been at it for what felt like hours, his concert-fueled adrenaline driving him on, his obsession with seeing you come apart consuming him.

Your legs were spread wide, your ankles tied to the bedposts to keep you in place, to prevent you from pushing him away from your sensitive, throbbing core. "My legs are getting tired, Michael. Can you untie them, please?" you begged.

He looked up at you, his tongue pressing hard against your clit, making you squirm. "Are you going to keep pushing me away, love?" he asked, the pleading in his bambi eyes.

"No," you promised, tears of exhaustion and pleasure streaming down your face. "I don't have the energy to. Please, just untie me."

“Good.” He released your ankles, massaging your legs as he did so, giving you a moment to stretch and relax. “I’m sorry, babe, but I can’t stop. I love seeing you squirt. Something triggered inside of me when we lost our virginity at Wembley. I’m obsessed.” But he didn't stop, couldn't stop, his mouth and fingers continuing their relentless assault on your body, driving you higher and higher, until you came apart once more, coating his face and the bed with your release.

"Oh yes, you're like a geyser, love," he groaned, his eyes locked onto your convulsing body as he continued to lick and finger you. "A geyser full of the sweetest nectar I've ever tasted."

The next morning, you stirred awake to Michael's hands on your knees, gently pushing them apart. You blinked your eyes open to find him kneeling between your legs, a hungry look in his eyes.

"Mmm, good morning, love," he said, his voice already thick with desire. "I thought I'd start the day with my favorite meal." He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, making you shiver.

Tired, but your body already responding to his touch, you let your legs fall open wider, giving him better access. "Breakfast is served," you said, a small smile playing on your lips, eager to see him devour you once more.

Michael was still driven by an insatiable hunger to see you squirt, his desire unwavering as he continued to pleasure you for hours on end. You lost track of time, your body and voice pushed to their limits as he refused to stop, fueled by the sight of you coming apart on his tongue and fingers. It was only when you let out a final, exhausted squirt, followed by a whimper against the pillow, that he finally relented.

"Oh, my queen, you were fucking amazing," he breathed, pulling you into his lap, your legs straddling his waist. "Let me take care of you now." He spent the rest of the day and night tending to your every need, drawing you warm baths, massaging your aching muscles, cooking you meals, and murmuring words of love and admiration into your ear.

[jaafarsbaby]

whipped ! 18+

jaafar x manager!femreader

He was carefully reshaping his newly grown facial hair, shaving cream barely there or planted on.

Maddie walks in wrapping her arms around his waist, placing her chin on his shoulder, “Oh you’re really keepin it?” She says surprised.

He places a fake smile, “yea, I like how it looks” he replied, his fake smile being replaced with a smirk remembering where the growth is coming from.

“s-soo good oh my…” you moan out, breath shaky as his mouth devours your puffy core.

his tongue giving small licks before patting your enterance with the tip of his tongue, “Ja—Jaafar…” you whimper out.

His tongue now licking non stop, from your clit to the end of your entrance. Your hands finding anything to grip.

The loud squelching, slurping, your eyes trail down on him as his eyes meets yours, low and filled with passion and lust.

His new growth scratching the surface of your core so perfectly.

Jaafar’s jaw working overtime, licking like a damn lollipop, his hands snaking up to your hips, pulling you closer.

“Ba—baby….slo—slow down…Jaafar oh my god” you mumble out, a hand instantly gripping his messy curls.

His tongue listening to your words giving you slow long licks, ending each one with a suck to your clit. Swirling around your entrance before licking back up to suck once more.

Your squeals and whimpers becoming more louder with each contact he makes.

Taking one more long slow stride before meeting your enterance licking repeatedly over your entrance. Your growing arousal wetting his face with each passing second.

“so damn sweet baby…” he growls, giving you pleasureful vibrations towards your core.

Your eyes rolling, head pushing deeper into the pillow as his tongue slides into your core, as he moves it inside giving you a captivating euphoric pleasure.

Your brain nearly mush, “fuckfuckfuck yessss! m’so closeee !” you pornographically scream before creaming his face for the final time.

your release adding onto your portrait on his face, his tongue now licking up your release, your core giving him more and more to lick up. Milking you dry nearly.

His mouth giving one more long slow stride with a suck of your flit before pecking your core and releasing his mouth off of you.

“my secret growth syrup” he chuckles out, licking your release off his lips.

lovelies 🧁 — @kitty-trash @niyahctrl @siighrns @youluvyanni @swavydadon@soleantoinette @jermajestyswife08 @szalipcombo @glossyseraphim @plan3tch1ld @maczken @prettygurljo @kisscoqueen @mjsfavouritefish @loveposiie @amoravelee @sayyoulovemeziya @xoxogossipgirl02 @gingerrsnapp @getmoneygirl @trailblazincats @heartsofiiveunknownn @vict-oryy @michaelsgirlie @jaafarmius @cyquiquin @anglfac

©. jermajestysbaby

do not feed my work to ai !

[pyt-mjdiaries]

Can you do the permission to eat tiktok trend with jaafar jackson x plus size reader reader where they are at a restaurant with the whole Jackson family including michael who is alive celebrating the release of Michael in theaters and everyone stops and looks at jaafar pissed off cause they think he straves his wife can you make it a smut

This is basically part two of A Jackson Family Affair, and fulfilling this request made it a lot easier to plan out a part three. This took me forever to write and edit, and I'm sorry this is super long. I honestly don't know what came over me while I was writing this, and I'm shocked that my mind would come up with something like this! I'm spent! I hope I did a good job with this one!

A Jackson Family Affair: Part Two🎀🫦🍽️ 🔞

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, explicit sexual content and language, Jaafar x curvy fem reader, Michael x curvy reader, being fed while fingered at the table, family feud, family rivalry, sensitive topics about body image and weight, finger licking, praise, mommy kink, daddy kink, Michael being a dom, Jaafar being a sub, voyeurism, both are pussy drunk/deprived, orgasms, food play, moaning, petname such as good boy, love, babygirl, dirty talk. I don't know what else to put because so much happened. Remember, this is purely FANFICTION!

Synopsis: You and Jaafar, along with Jaafar's family, resume your dinner after your rough, passionate interlude in the ladies' room. As your meals arrive, Jaafar expresses his concern about your weight, insisting you eat something healthier. He switches your plates, leaving you feeling humiliated and angry. Michael, seeing this, offers you his dish and warns Jaafar, his nephew, not to take yours, his eyes gleaming with competition. Michael's chivalrous behavior sparks intense, shameful acts in front of the family, as Jaafar, feeling challenged and upset, seeks to earn back your trust in his own way.

You thought about Michael's offer over and over as everyone chatted and sipped champagne while waiting for their food. You barely spoke, mostly listening to the conversations around you.

Your mind kept drifting back to the way Michael had approached you earlier—the smoothness of his voice, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, and the way he'd spoken about what you deserved and how you should be treated.

With Michael sitting beside you, you could feel the warmth radiating from him. Every so often, you caught him looking at you from across the table. He casually twirled and rubbed the butter knife between his fingers, and for some reason, the simple gesture made your imagination wander.

You tried not to look at him. Well…you did a few times when Jaafar wasn't paying attention.

Michael's voice was a smooth, rich baritone, like velvet on a summer's night, as he leaned in close, his breath warm on your ear. "I couldn't help but notice you seem…unsettled, darlin'. Anything I can do to make that better?" His fingers, long and dexterous, continued to twirl and rub the butter knife with a practiced ease, a silent promise of the skill hidden within.

"No, thank you, Mr. Jac--I mean, Michael." You felt the heat radiating off him, his confidence and swagger filling the space between you. His gaze was intense, hungry, like a predator eyeing its prey.

It still bothered you knowing that Jaafar had already confronted you earlier in the ladies' room. He'd shown you that he could become rough when he felt challenged or provoked. And deep down, a part of you couldn't stop wondering what Michael had to offer when he'd told you that you deserved better.

Your thoughts were interrupted when four waiters arrived with everyone's meals. One by one, they placed the plates around the table, and everyone thanked them. The aroma immediately filled the air.

There it was, your butter-poached salmon, served with mashed cauliflower and a creamy herb sauce.

"Ooh, this looks good, don't it?" Jermaine said, rubbing his hands together eagerly. He lifted his champagne glass. "Let's make a toast to my nephew, Jaafar, and his role alongside my beloved brother, Michael. To Jaafar!"

Everyone raised their glasses. "To Jaafar!"

You took a celebratory sip before reaching for your fork. But before you could take your first bite, Jaafar gently placed his hand over yours.

"Don't eat that," he whispered.

You stared at him, confused. "Why? What's wrong?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he lifted your plate and replaced it with his own. "Eat this instead." Jaafar waved down a waiter and had him take the salmon plate and ordered another vegetarian lasagna.

You looked down, your face twisted. His plate contained a vegetarian lasagna with a side of steamed vegetables. "JJ, why would I eat something I didn't order?" You looked back at him. "This is what you ordered."

“I know, but…” He hesitated. “This is better. It’s healthier for you.”

Not too long ago, perhaps a few weeks earlier, you had talked to Jaafar about eating healthier meals and cutting back on sugar. You had brought it up because you were feeling a little discouraged about not losing much weight since getting engaged.

You loved your plus-sized body, and Jaafar had always loved it too. You simply wanted to feel healthier, more comfortable, and confident in your body before the two of you got married.

You stared at him. The concern in his expression seemed genuine, but that somehow made it even more confusing. "JJ, I'm not going to eat that."

You reached for your plate, but he took it away again. "Just try it."

You narrowed your eyes. "If I wanted vegetarian lasagna, I would've ordered it." Your voice rose slightly. “Now give me back my plate, JJ.”

“No, I won’t. This is better for you. Trust me. I only want what’s best for you. I’m just looking out for you.”

Your eyes flashed with anger. "Huh, so you fuck me in the ladies room to prove me wrong and now telling me what I can and cannot eat, Jaafar? Who made you the authority on what's best for me? I can decide what I want to eat, thank you very much. I don't need you telling me what to do."

"Nothing, babe. Calm down." He lowered his voice; a silly, flustered smile spread on his face. "I just thought it would be better for you to eat something greener and healthier." His hand moved to your thigh, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. You immediately pushed his hand away. The sudden slap against his hand drew everyone's attention.

“What’s going on over there?” Tito asked, popping his head up as he glanced between the two of you.

"Oh, shit. They're fighting again," Jermaine muttered, watching the two of you with amusement. "Bro out here starving his girl. What a shame."

Jermaine twisted around to face Jermajesty, giving him the stern look of a father reprimanding his child for saying something out of line. “Now, boy, don’t go making accusations like that! What’s wrong with you?”

Janet's expression changed immediately. "What? Is that true?" She set down her fork. "Jaafar, is this true?"

"No, I—it's not like that," he protested. But his answer only raised more questions.

"Is he really starving you?" Latoya asked, her eyes widening with concern. "How long has this been going on?"

"Is he not letting you eat at home?" Marlon demanded, giving Jaafar a stern look. He pointed his knife in his direction. "If your father won't tear your ass up, I will. I don’t care that you’re turning 30 this year."

"Is everything all right with you two?" Jermaine asked, trying to lighten the tension. "Y'all need to head back to the ladies' room and have another 'heated discussion.'" He emphasized the last two words with exaggerated quotation marks.

Jermajesty immediately started clapping his hands together rapidly, wearing a mischievous grin, as he acted out the scene that happened in the ladies' room between you and Jaafar. "Yeah, need to clap some cheeks again?" You shot him an annoyed look.

"Jermajesty, don’t jump to conclusions, and please shut the hell up and mind your business." Jaafar sighed, clearly embarrassed by the attention. "It's nothing. It's just a misunderstanding." He glanced around the table. "Everyone, please just enjoy your meal." You stared at him, stunned.

Why wasn't he telling them what was really happening? Yet now, with his entire family asking questions, he suddenly acted as though nothing was wrong. You felt frustrated, confused, and, more than anything, hurt. You wanted to tell everyone the truth. You wanted to finally speak up about what had been happening before everyone became concerned.

But before you could say anything, Michael quietly picked up his plate of butter-poached salmon and placed it in front of you. "You can have mine, darlin'."

You looked at Michael, shocked and completely flustered. You gently pushed the plate back toward him. "No, please. It's yours."

"No, it's fine." He pushed the plate back toward you, casually brushing a strand of hair away from your shoulder. "I'll order something else. I don't mind."

"Uh…um…thank you, Michael." You weren't sure what else to say, so you simply picked up your fork and knife.

Michael leaned slightly toward you, giving Jaafar a serious look. "And Jaafar, nephew, don't take her plate. Let her enjoy her dinner." His arm rested along the back of your chair, his hand only inches from your exposed shoulders. "Go on. Eat and enjoy yourself, babygirl." He gave you a playful wink.

You could sense Jaafar bristling at the challenge. His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his arms tensed beneath his suit jacket. But rather than spending time arguing with his uncle, he waited until his dish arrived and silently ate his own meal.

You finally took your first bite. The salmon was rich, buttery, and tender, complemented perfectly by the earthy herb sauce. The mashed cauliflower provided a light, creamy balance, with subtle hints of mint and lemon that brightened every bite. For those glorious precious minutes, you forgot about your earlier argument with Jaafar.

"Enjoying yourself, darlin'?" Michael watched you with a pleased smile as he continued eating his own meal that he ordered minutes ago.

"Mmhmm. It's delicious." You nodded enthusiastically. "Jermaine was right about choosing this."

Across the table, Jermaine nodded proudly and gave you a thumbs-up while continuing to eat.

"Good." Michael smiled. "I want to see you enjoying yourself." He paused, looking at your face. "Oh, you've got a little something on your chin."

"Oh, it's probably the sauce." You laughed awkwardly.

"I got it, babygirl." Michael reached over and gently wiped the herb sauce from your chin with his thumb. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought his thumb to his lips and tasted the sauce. "Tastes good."

Your face immediately heated. You stared at him, completely caught off guard by the teasing gesture. Michael simply returned to his meal as though nothing had happened. You tried to focus on your dinner, but suddenly you couldn't remember what you'd been doing. You sat there frozen, fork and knife still in your hands.

"Food's so good you forgot how to eat, huh?" Michael's amused voice brought you back to reality. He took another bite of his roasted rosemary chicken, slowly lowering his fork as his eyes flickered from your hands to your face. Then he set his fork down and turned slightly toward you.

He gently took the fork and knife from your hands. "Let me feed you, babygirl."

He picked up a small piece of salmon and brought it toward your lips. You barely registered what was happening until Michael gently cupped your chin. "Open your mouth f’me."

You opened your mouth, and he carefully fed you the salmon. You chewed slowly, still trying to process the intimacy of the moment.

"That's it." He picked up another forkful and brought it toward you, his hand once again resting beneath your chin.

"You want another bite, love?" You nodded.

He continued feeding you, one bite at a time, while Jaafar struggled to contain his frustration. Seeing his fiancée being fed by his uncle was clearly getting under his skin. His jaw tightened as he ate, his fork and knife clacking against the plate harder than necessary. Several of his family members glanced in his direction, wondering what had gotten into him. Jermajesty, however, seemed thoroughly entertained by his brother's growing irritation.

Eventually, you regained your composure and held up your hands, signaling Michael to stop.

"Oh, God. This is too much." You laughed nervously. "I feel so silly. At least let me return the favor."

Michael smiled warmly. "No. Don't ever feel that way. I'm being a gentleman, and I want to do this." He paused, looking into your eyes intensely. "Do you want me to stop?"

You shook your head, eyes sparkling with desire. Michael's smirk deepened, and your thighs parted instinctively, seeking relief from the heat building within. He glanced down, a wicked gleam in his eye as he took in the sight of your thighs, barely concealed beneath the tablecloth. His hand, still holding the fork, continued to feed you, his plate of food forgotten.

Meanwhile, his other hand began a slow, sensual journey up your thigh. You hardly noticed at first, too lost in the sensation of being fed, of Michael's intense gaze on you. But as his hand neared your core, you felt a jolt of anticipation. You parted your thighs further, inviting him, eager to see if his touch would live up to his earlier promises.

Without drawing much attention, he smoothly pulled your chair a little closer to him, gently lifting your leg and resting it over his strong thigh. "That's better."

Michael's fingers found your wet center, tracing circles around your clit. You bit back a gasp, your body tensing at the unexpected contact. But you didn't stop him, didn't want him to stop. You were playing a dangerous game, seeking payback for Jaafar's earlier transgressions, and you were enjoying every second of it.

Michael leaned in, his voice a low, seductive whisper in your ear. "You're so wet, babygirl. You want me to stop?" You knew you should say yes, that this was wrong, dangerous even. But you couldn't bring yourself to utter the word. You shook your head, your eyes locked onto his, a silent plea for more.

“Say please, Daddy.” He cooed, his hot breath against your ear.

You swallowed. “Please, Daddy.”

His eyes were now on yours. "Say it again. Louder for him to hear."

"Please, Daddy."

“Good girl.” His finger began its dance, a slow press against your clit, timed perfectly with the spoonful of salmon he slid between your lips. You bit back a moan, your body tensing as the sensation of being fed and fingered simultaneously washed over you. Your hips bucked up with each thrust.

“You look gorgeous when I’m feeding and fingering you.” Michael's eyes never left yours, his gaze intense, hungry, as if he could see the battle raging within you. “Do you like my fingers inside you? Tell me.”

“Y–yes, I do, Daddy.” You could hardly speak from the immense pleasure of his fingers and intoxicating voice.

"Almost there, babygirl," he murmured darkly as he fed you another bite, his fingers curling inside you, rubbing against that sweet spot. You could feel it building, the pressure coiling in your core, threatening to spill over. “You’re doing so well f’me.”

You tried to keep your eyes on him, as he'd commanded, but they fluttered closed as the pleasure became too intense. You heard sounds of chatter around you, Jaafar's family oblivious to the scandal unfolding right under their noses. The thought of being caught, of Jaafar discovering what was happening, sent a thrill of fear and exhilaration through you.

"Yes, ride my fingers." Michael's lips curled into a wicked smile as he leaned in, his breath hot on your ear. "Feels amazing, doesn't it, babygirl? A real man knows just how to please a woman," he murmured.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest, your eyes darting around the table. Jaafar's family was oblivious, lost in their own conversations, their laughter filling the air. Yet, here you were, being fingered by your fiancé’s uncle, your body betraying you with each thrust of his fingers. Michael's thumb circled your clit, his long fingers sliding in and out of you, each movement timed perfectly with the spoonfuls of food he fed you. You bit back a moan, your body tensing as you felt your orgasm building. You couldn't look at Jaafar, not with Michael's fingers inside you, not with the intense pleasure coursing through your veins. You kept your eyes on Michael, his gaze locked onto yours, a silent promise of the ecstasy to come.

"Keep your eyes on me, love," Michael growled, his fingers picking up speed, his thumb circling your clit with increasing pressure. You forced your eyes open, your gaze locked onto his as he fed you the final bite. His fingers curled one last time, pressing firmly against your clit, and you shattered, your orgasm ripping through you like a storm.

You bit back a cry, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Michael held you steady, his fingers gentle as he slowed his movements, drawing out your orgasm until you were left panting, your body spent.

"Good girl," he whispered as he pulled his fingers from you, bringing them to his mouth, licking your essence clean. You watched, your body still trembling, as he sucked your orgasm from his fingers, a wicked smile playing on his lips.

"Mmm, that was delicious," Michael purred, his gaze locked onto yours, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Are you feelin’ okay, love?" His voice rumbled, seeming to echo in your mind, sending your thoughts spiraling into a world of confusion. You could've sworn you heard it reverberate, the words bouncing off the walls of your imagination.

"Babe, are you alright?" Jaafar's voice cut through the fog of your fantasy, his hands gripping your shoulders as he shook you gently. You blinked, your eyes slowly focusing on his concerned face.

"W-what…happened?" you stammered, your mind still hazy from the vivid fantasy that had played out. You looked down at your empty plate, the remnants of your imaginary feast scattered before you. You looked at Jaafar, confused and flustered, before your gaze shifted to Michael, sitting there with his legs spread apart, halfway facing you, casually handing you a glass of water.

"Thank you," you managed to say. You couldn't meet his gaze, the memory of his sensual touch still lingering in your mind. You grabbed a handkerchief, dabbing at the sweat on your chest and face, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

"You were just sitting there, mumbling and squirming," Jaafar explained, his voice laced with worry. "I couldn't get your attention. "

"Oh…I'm fine," you lied, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You tried to push the fantasy to the back of your mind, but it was proving to be a stubborn intruder. You could still feel the dampness on the chair, the echo of pleasure from your fantasy coursing through your veins.

"Listen, babe…can we talk in private? Now?"

You had almost forgotten how upset you were with Jaafar earlier, but the moment he brought it up, all those feelings came rushing back.

You refused to look at him, crossing your arms over your chest. "No." You made sure your tone left no room for argument. "I just want to have dessert and go home. Oh, wait—you'll probably have me order a bowl of fruit for dessert instead."

Jaafar reached for your hand, but you quickly pulled it away. "Babe, please. I just want to talk about this," he pleaded.

He was starting to sound almost pathetic. He always sounded that way whenever he regretted something or knew he'd upset you.

"Jaafar, nephew, she said no," Michael interjected, giving him a pointed side-eye as he finished the champagne in his glass. "Let her have whatever dessert she wants, and this time, don't take it away from her. Don’t make me have to warn you again."

You glanced at Michael, and another wave of fantasy began to creep into your thoughts. His gentlemanly manner, his teasing remarks, and the way he effortlessly stood up for you were making it increasingly difficult to keep your thoughts innocent.

Jermajesty let out a hearty laugh. “Damn, Uncle Mike, you ain’t have to threaten him like that!”

Jermaine shook his head disapprovingly. “Son, you’ve been nothing but a mess and an instigator this entire time. Where do you get this from?”

“You and Uncle Randy,” Jermajesty replied, chuckling. Everyone at the table immediately threw their hands in the air and groaned in annoyance.

After the ruckus between Jermajesty, Jermaine, La Toya, and Marlon finally died down, everyone ordered dessert. Most of the table settled on fruit tarts, while the rest, except for Jaafar, opted for brownie à la mode. You ordered yours with an extra side of chocolate sauce, this time without any interference from Jaafar.

“You deserve it.” Michael proudly gave your lower back a gentle pat.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling another flirtatious fantasy begin to stir in your mind. A sudden warmth spread through you, and you quickly tried to compose yourself.

However, that warmth faded when you glanced over at Jaafar. He had nothing in front of him. Instead, he was watching you with those same pleading eyes, one arm resting along the back of your chair as his foot tapped impatiently against the floor. He nervously bit the inside of his lip.

You ignored him and focused on your dessert. For once, you wanted him to sit with his own discomfort and think about how he'd treated you for the rest of the evening.

You weren’t even halfway finished when you felt his other hand settle on your thigh, his fingers slowly rubbing small circles over the dimples in your skin. You stiffened.

A sigh escaped you, not entirely from anger, but from pity. You knew exactly what he was trying to do.

“JJ, stop looking at me like that,” you said firmly, keeping your eyes on your plate.

“No.” His voice was low but stubborn. “Not unless we talk.”

You slowly lowered your spoon. “Like I said, no. I just want to eat and go home.”

“The sooner we resolve this, the better.”

You finally looked at him. His expression was serious, almost pleading, but his stubbornness was beginning to wear down what little patience you had left. He wanted to settle things now.

Fine.

You placed your spoon neatly beside your plate and dabbed the corner of your mouth with your napkin. Then you turned toward him, raising one eyebrow. “Do you need a reminder from Michael?”

Jaafar's expression tightened. “No.” He paused, his voice becoming more deliberate. “Because you’re my fiancée, and I want to settle this the right way. Without my family interfering.”

You studied him for a moment, almost amused by his insistence. “Really?” You tilted your head. “The right way?”

“Yes.”

You glanced down at your dessert, then back at him. A thought suddenly crossed your mind.

You leaned back in your chair, folded your arms, and gave him a serious look. “Pick up my spoon.”

Jaafar blinked. “What?”

You held his gaze, refusing to look away. “I said, pick up my spoon.”

He stared at you for a moment, clearly confused by the sudden command. Slowly, his eyes dropped toward the spoon resting beside your plate.

Then he looked back at you. “Why?”

"Just pick it up," you said, watching Jaafar's hand close around the spoon. "Feed me."

"Feed you?" Jaafar repeated, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. "Alright," he said, his tone steadying as he scooped up some of the brownie and ice cream, raising it to your lips.

You opened your mouth, accepting the spoonful. Your lips slid off the spoon, and you hummed in satisfaction.

"Is it good?" Jaafar asked, and you nodded, motioning for him to continue. He fed you again, his movements gaining confidence. Little did he know, you were living out the fantasy you had earlier, now starring Jaafar instead.

Each time Jaafar fed you, your heart pounded in your chest, eager for his next move. You craved the possessive side he'd shown earlier, but as time passed, it seemed like a fleeting moment. You halted his hand, pushing it away.

"W-what's wrong, babe?" Jaafar asked, genuine concern in his eyes.

"I…I thought we had something here. But it's gone now."

"No, babe, it's not," he insisted, desperation in his voice. "Let me keep feeding you. Please."

You looked at him, his eyes pleading, and you made your decision. "Alright, Jaafar.”

As Jaafar fed you, his eyes darkened, pupils dilating as he watched your lips close around the spoon, a soft moan escaping you. His pants grew taut, and you noticed his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. His mouth agape, he seemed mesmerized by the sight, a side of him you'd never seen before.

“You like it, babe?” He whispered, his voice unsteady, as if trying to control himself. “You want more?” You nodded, a subtle smirk forming on your lips.

You took his free hand, guiding it to your inner thigh. He stiffened at first, but you held his gaze, and he yielded, his hand resting on your leg. His breath hitched, and he fed you again, his hand trembling slightly.

"Jaafar," you said, your voice firm yet gentle, "I want you to do something for me while you feed me."

He looked at you, his glossy eyes wide and eager. "Y-yes, Mommy. Anything."

You froze, surprised. "What did you call me?" You've just discovered your fiancé's new kink.

He blushed, his eyes darting away. "Oh shit, I–I'm sorry, babe. It just…slipped out. Do you not want me to call you that, babe?”

You studied him for a moment, then smiled. "It's okay, Jaafar. I…like it. Keep going." You guided his hand further up your thigh until it reached the hem of your dress.

“Do you want me to make you feel good, Mommy? Is it okay?” You nodded.

He hesitated for a moment, his hand slipping under your dress. He parted your thighs, lifting one leg onto his. Using the tablecloth, he hid his actions from the others, his eyes darting to Michael, then back to you.

He looked at you, his eyes wide with a mix of surprise and excitement. "Y-yes, Mommy," he stammered, his hand trembling slightly as you guided it up your thigh.

You could feel the heat radiating from him as he slipped his hand under your dress, his fingers brushing against your lace panties. He parted your thighs, lifting one leg onto his, the heel of your shoe digging into the muscle of his thigh. You could see the tension in his body, the strain in his voice as he asked, "Is this what you want, Mommy? Should I touch you here?"

You nodded, biting your lip as his fingers hooked into the side of your panties, pulling them aside. He ran a finger along your slit, and you gasped, your hips bucking slightly. “Mmhm."

He fed you another spoonful, his hand moving in sync with his fingers as they slipped inside you. Your back arched slightly, hand holding onto his wrist while the other on the edge of the table. You could feel him exploring you, his fingers curling slightly, finding that spot that made you moan. "Like this, Mommy?" he asked, his voice low, hoarse with desire.

"Yes," you panted, your grip tightening on his wrist. "Just like that. Don't stop."

He fed you another spoonful, his thumb circling your clit with a steady, maddening rhythm. Dipping his fingers into the extra chocolate sauce you'd ordered, he traced a path down to your center, painting your folds with the sweet, decadent syrup. His fingers plunged into you, your arousal mingling with the chocolate, creating a heady, intoxicating scent that filled the air. "I love it when you look like this. In pure ecstasy."

He withdrew his fingers, glistening with your desire and the chocolate, and brought them to his mouth. "Mmm," he hummed, licking them clean. "You taste fucking amazing, Mommy. Like the sweetest dessert I've ever had." His lips were smeared with chocolate and your arousal. He dipped his fingers back into the sauce, coating them thoroughly before driving them into you again. You could feel the pleasure building, your breath coming in short gasps. You looked at him, then at Michael, who was watching, jaws clenched, his eyes dark with jealousy and desire.

Oh, fuck, this is real, you thought. Your fantasy was being played out.

"Don't look at him, please," Jaafar begged, his voice barely a whisper. "Why are you looking at him and not me? I'm the one touching you, aren't I? I'm the one making you feel good, not him."

You smirked, turning your attention back to Jaafar. "I'm not looking at him," you said, your voice cold and teasing.

"Then look at me, please," he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. "Only me. Not him. I don't want you to look at him. I don't want you to think about him. I want you to think about me. Only me."

He moved his fingers faster, his thumb pressing harder, his body shaking with effort. You could see the strain on his face, the sweat dripping down his temples as he tried to be quiet, to avoid drawing attention to himself. "Don't ever look at him," he begged, his voice filled with possessiveness. "You're mine. Only mine. Don't you dare look at him again."

His fingers danced, thumb pressing with fervent urgency, drawing your focus back to him. You felt the crescendo building, your body coiling tight, breath coming in ragged gasps. "Oh my—mmfff," your moan was smothered by the dessert spooned into your mouth by Jaafar.

"Am I doing good, Mommy?" he whispered, hot breath tickling your ear. "Please, tell me. Tell me I'm a good boy."

"Yes, you're doing well, babe," you murmured, a satisfied grin spreading across your face. "You're a good boy." His chest puffed with pride, body trembling with renewed vigor as he fed you another spoonful, fingers driving you to the edge. With one final thrust, you tumbled over, your body convulsing in silent ecstasy, Jaafar's name on the tip of your tongue, muffled by the dessert in your mouth.

As your orgasm ebbed, you found yourself in a daze, your body damp with sweat, breath coming in slow, deep gulps. Jaafar sat beside you, his face glistening with a mix of relief and ecstasy, a smug smile playing on his lips. He thought he'd made you forgive him, that he'd pleased you enough to earn your grace. Little did he know, your mind had been elsewhere, lost in a fantasy that had something to do with him.

You looked around the table, your gaze flicking from face to face. No one seemed to have noticed your secret tryst, for which you were grateful. But as the realization of what you'd done sank in, a deep feeling of confusion washed over you. You felt a gentle touch on your face, hands cupping your cheeks, turning your head to face the owner. It was Jaafar, but the subordinate expression he wore was a facade.

“Babe, you hadn’t touched your dessert at all. You’ve been sitting there, mumbling again. Is everything ok?”

As you looked into his eyes, you knew. You hadn't forgotten the game you were playing, the fantasy you'd acted out in your head. Your dessert was barely touched, the ice cream now a liquid, melted by the heat of your desire, a desire that had something to do with the man sitting beside you. Your fiancé, Jaafar.

“I’m fine, JJ. I’m just not in the mood.” Inside, you were crushed. You hated that yet another fantasy had ended before it could become anything. You had hoped he would take the initiative, but he never did.

“Okay, babe. Let’s just go home.”

Dinner eventually came to an end. You both said your goodbyes to Jaafar’s family before leaving ahead of everyone else.

As you settled into the limousine, legs feeling like jelly, your thoughts returned to everything that had happened that evening, and especially Michael’s not-so-innocent offer. You knew you had some business of your own to take care of. For now, you decided to let Jaafar suffer with his guilt a little longer. When the time came, you would let him apologize, but on your terms.

@nyadujddu @styleslover-1994

[pyt-mjdiaries]

Can you do one where plus size reader and Michael lose each other's virginitys to each other during off the wall and later on during wembley concert after human nature Michael wants to get rid of his adrenaline so he take it out on reader and she ends up nonstop squirting until almost the next day cause she couldn't sleep due to her body shaking and squirting each time she moves and Michael just smiles and tells her now I have breakfast and he goes between her legs and makes it worse for her and she finally stops midday and michael does after care for her.

Oooh this is a good one!! I’m almost speechless! Let me see what I can whip up after I fulfill last week’s requests. 😉 Be on the lookout for next week!✨