jaafar jackson’s muse

you take your dress off, now in your bra and panties, you walk out and go into the bathroom, seeing jermajesty make your bath. you smile at him as he glances up, his hand touching the water to make sure it was right for you. “you look so stunning.” he sighs, the cuffs of his suit opened as he steps back, helping you take your bra off as you pull your panties down. finally naked, you step into the bathtub. jer shuts the bathroom door and sits down on the counter as he stares at you. as you were about to pick up the soap to put some in, jermajesty stops you. “no, soap right now.” he whispers, breathing heavier as he looks at your body. “need to see you touch your pretty body first.” he says, his pants feeling tighter now.

your eyes widen, still looking at him, you almost choke on your saliva. “jer…what the fuck?” that earns a smirk and a laugh from him, “baby, please, if you’re okay with it. just wanna see you touch yourself for right now.”

you let out a whimper and look at yourself, feeling embarrassed at the idea of your boyfriend watching you but you also liked it. opening your legs, you push your fingers in your pussy, holding in a moan and sigh it out, leaning your head back, you keep your eyes closed as jermajesty keeps watch. licking his bottom lip, he rubs his mustache and smirks at the sight. “that’s it baby, fuck, you look so hot.” he mumbles, needing you to have a little confidence, and that does work, because you begin sliding your fingers in and out more, moaning his name out. jer doesn’t interrupt, too busy thinking about all the ways he’s going to fuck you deep into the night.

❛ michael jackson 𝑥 long term gf! reader ❜ ....✉︎ established relationship. michael and y/n have a huge fight before attending his friend's wedding. michael likes to problem solve by sending you expensive gifts. but this time, your forgiveness cannot be bought. (setting: elizabeth taylor's 1991 wedding at neverland. not completely canon) ....✎ warnings/tags: long arguments and fighting. implied that michael is having issues (generic, not specified) and keeping secrets. if you've read lisa marie's autobiography it's loosely inspired by the fact that he kept her in the dark about everything and hated when she asked questions. no happy ending btw.

you haven't seen him in days. unreachable is an understatement.

you don't know what he's been up, let alone where he's been the whole week. you spent your mornings leaving him calls everywhere – his other homes, the studio, the record label, the hospital, even the hotels he'd frequent at when he wants an escape. you spent your evenings staying up for him, awaiting his return, only for you to wake up to his side of the bed completely untouched.

you begged and pleaded his security team, his lawyers, his doctors, and the rest of the staff to tell you where he was. no one would budge.

when he got word that you were out and about looking for him, his first line of defense was sending you an expensive flower arrangement with a note that says "i'll be home soon, baby". you threw the flowers in the bin after you tried calling him for the nth time.

bill must have told him what happened, because the next day, he sent over an expensive swarovski bracelet. this time with a note that says "something you can't throw away ;)" the wink taunted you.

an expensive gift usually does the trick. usually.

but this time you were relentless. you went to hayvenhurst and asked katherine if you knew where he was. "he just gets like this sweetie, he disappears for days on end. you need to get used to it by now" she tries to explain to you over coffee. but you refuse to accept it.

while this isn't the first time he'd done this to you, this is the longest time he's disappeared. what is so important that he's unable to pick up your calls for 10 seconds just to let you know he's okay?

you were tired. so you stopped calling. and you stopped looking.

Jaafar Jackson x fem!reader, 1.6k, 18+

you know that Jaafar is working himself too hard, and you help him relax - with a blowjob (also can we take a moment to appreciate jaafar with the long hair pls and thank you)

It doesn’t surprise you that Jaafar spends so long in the studio, that he works until he body aches and his brain feels like it’s going to implode. You wonder, sometimes, if he has some sort of genetic predisposition to working himself to the bone. It would be a lot of pressure for anyone to live up to what is expected of Jaafar, but he seems to take it all to heart.

There’s a sort of guilt that seems to sink low in your chest, even if you’re just getting groceries or scrolling on your phone, because you know that Jaafar has locked himself away in the studio until he feels like he’s done enough. And with him, you know he’ll never feel good enough. He’s a perfectionist down to his core, and the burden of being good enough weighs heavy on his shoulders.

jaafar enjoys the lingerie sets you get, coming back to him with them on. he’ll have a glass of whiskey in one hand as he sits down comfortably on his couch as you give him a show. he’ll tell you to strip in front of him so he can see your pussy, you’ll bend down in front of him, picking up your lingerie. jaafar won’t rub himself out, he’ll wait, leaking against his boxers as he watches you until you’re on your last piece of lingerie. you get closer to him and sit on one of his thighs as he tells you to touch him, jaafar will keep sipping on his whiskey as he watches you. eyes never leaving your face as your hand rubs up and down on his dick, his tip needing to be sucked on.

while giving him a handjob, jaafar will ask you what you like so much about his money. you have to give him actual answers, because the more you do, the more he’ll give you the things you like. he’s assessing you, physically and emotionally. he knows you love the lifestyle you live, and he loves living it with you. he loves the control you have over him and wants more of it. you tell him to jump, he’ll ask how high. it’s your way or no way.

jaafar likes fucking you on his balcony as the two of you stare at skyscrapers. his dick sliding in and out of your pussy, as his balls smack your thighs. you’ll cry and moan, begging to cum all over him. jaafar will keep going, asking you how much you love it and how much longer you can take him. it’s not like you can answer, too busy moaning for more anyway. jaafar needs you to be reminded how the fun lifestyle you live will only keep going. you deserve nothing but the best and he’ll work his ass off to give it to you. you’re not just his secretary but the best thing that ever walked into his life.

thinking about dating highschool lover! michael

You met Michael by accident. You weren't expecting your dog to get the sudden urge (maybe getting the zoomies or seeing a squirrel) to sprint once you loosen your grip on his leash for 0.5 seconds. The best part? He was fast— so annoyingly fast you nearly tripped on your own two feet when trying to chase him— in sandals! Mind you, you went out for a walk. You were already embarrassed for stumbling in your sandals, and it worsened when you had to holler your dogs name, the noise ringing down the peaceful street.

Thankfully for your dogs (short attention span), he charged for an innocent bystander in the distance. You yelled a protest before groaning as you stopped for a breath, hands on knees as you drop your head for a second. You cursed under your breath, reminding yourself to tell your mom that she can call up the dog walker again.

When you look up, the stranger approaches with what only you can make up as a smile. You're near sighted, so you can't see shit far away. You drop your head again, mainly because you want to avoid the prolonged eye contact and awkward as they approached you, and because you nearly scoped out the entire block!

"Hi—" you manage to laugh, "I am so— sorry for him. He's still a baby he's so energetic and really fast—" You finally look up and blink.

Michael Jackson was holding your puppy. And he had the largest grin on his face. Your dog's little pink tongue swept across the brown of his jaw as he held the fur-ball in his arms, like it already familiarized itself with him. It's like your dog can sense his energy.

You finally caught your breath and couldn't help but feel a little jolt of what felt like adrenaline maybe? Excitement? You're standing face to face with an icon, and talking to him like he hasn't been on the go since he was like 10.

"Don't apologize," his soft cadence pulled you in. He had pretty smile, you thought. "He's the sweetest. Jumped right into my arms as soon as he saw me."

You could only let out a little laugh, maybe it sounded a bit smitten.

He handed you your dog back and dusted the fur from his shirt.

"(Dog's name), it's cute. I like it."

"Yeah?" You hoisted up your dog, slipping the leash in your hand and wrapping it sound your wrist, "Named him myself."

"Well it's perfect," he let out a melodic chuckle. "I have animals too."

"You do now?" You raised your chin, maybe a bit playful, just something to keep the conversation going.

He listed out his not your typical domestic pets he has in his home, like exotic birds and even mice. When you told him you had a horse— it was all your parent, they couldn't leave Spain without it— his eyes glowed. You told Michael that you were just down the street, and usually walk your dog at this time. Michael took note of this. When you said "But now, I think I'll give my dog walker a call."

You could tell that he didn't want you to do that, but you saw the subtle change in his face. He was such a shy boy, but he had his way with words when he wanted, "well who am I gonna bump into when (Dog's name) becomes loose again?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. After the sweet interaction, you parted ways, smiling like a fool. Michael was as well, and was happy you didn't see the pink flush on his cheeks. One, because he had a normal conversation with a pretty girl, and two, he technically made a new friend!

Oh and he definitely did that little jumpwhere he clicked his heels together.

You never would've thought that a random day in the summer of "73 would change the trajectory of your life.

Because both live a few houses down from eachother, you’re always at each other’s place. You’d be sat at the good of his bed with one of his birds perched on your shoulder as he’d him a random tune he came out, his pencil scraping against his sketchbook as he’d draw you. sometimes you laugh at how focused he was— drawn brows, squinted eyes and pink flesh poking from his lips. He’d blink and be like “what?” You’d smile and be like “you’re really cute when you’re all focused” and he’d blush and pull his little sketchbook close to his chest like a shy schoolgirl.

Ya’ll definitely started dating in the summer after you sophomore year (so like 16-17)— all shy and private about your relationship, but now in your senior year, you’ve gotten more comfortable and open. Now, the both of you wouldn’t mind being spotted walking down Ventura together, hands intertwined as you talked each other’s ear off about your favorite comic.

Plus, this was before crowds became unmanageable, so he was able to freely walk down the street with no security— (besides Bill), but not without getting stopped by a few fans here and there.

Even shopping in the Topanga mall!! He’d mentally note every single thing your eyes lingered on or your manicured fingers pointed at— he just wants to spoil his girl :(((

And if you’re ever in the city (because they’re performing at the forum) then you’d looove to get icecream at Thriftys!! An when he’d get ice cream on his lip causing you’d wipe it away from your thumb and lick it off, it’ll trigger that familiar flustered giggle and pink dust across his cheek.

Not gonna lie, he’d kinda be the type of guy to get baby fever when he sees you caring/playing alongside little kids. Seeing you tie your younger siblings shoe or painting Janet’s nails as the two of you talk about whatever girls talk about said one of his brothers, Michael would always think about his future with you. Even if that future is just tomorrow. And you’d playfully pick on him for thinking so ahead.

You’re always front seat at his Jackson 5 concerts, and hey, maybe if he’s feeling a little cray cray he’d definitely pull one of these once in a while.

Not without asking you a million billion times if pulling that stunt is okay— and with you reassuring him (also) a million billion times that you’re completely comfortable and very open to it.

Oh yeah, and because you’re dating Michael Jackson, it became required for you to get escorted to school (people would camp near your car and bombard you with questions about Michael) which sucked because you loved freely cruising in your little 1976 Cadillac Eldorado Convertible. But hey, at least you don’t have to worry shout gas???

And! If you’re into theatre or any type of performing/visual arts OR sports— best believe that boy would be at every performance every showing every game!! You go to a wealthy private school, so you see celebrities everyday— whether they’re touring the school or sitting in the assembly. So Michael and his family being there wouldn’t be as much as a craze. His sisters would insisttt on coming while his brothers would only go to tease you on your performance afterwards and definitely not pick up girls.

Pairing: Thriller! Michael x reader

A/n: not my best work, but I was so eager to get this out my head, so sorry in advance (𖦹﹏𖦹;)

It wasn't unusual for Michael to bring you in the studio with him. In fact, you were always there, carefully soaking in every bit of his singing from your usual spot inside the vocal booth. Even outside of the studio, his mind never quieted down, the ideas of new songs plaguing his thoughts while he made a desperate attempt to sleep. 

“Q, I-I really can't, I'm too shy." His large hands flung to his face, hiding the heat that was pooling behind them, before pulling them away, his eyes darting towards your usual spot in the corner, through the glass that separated the two of you from Quincy. 

It was a sight that you'd seen on more than one occasion, yet every time it never failed to make you giggle. 

Michael, with his hair all messy and pajamas disheveled after a long day of taking care of Prince and Paris. His eyes were heavy, and his brain was foggy with the sole thought of getting even a wink of sleep, with two kids constantly tugging at his sleeve, or his pants, begging for something sweet before bed, their small giggles somehow brightening the small, dimly lit room. 

“No, Prince, no cookies before bed." His voice was firm, yet still held that soft tone as he ran his hand through his already unruly hair. 

©appleheadluvrr

he wonders how much you can handle until you’re crying to cum, how long can he tease your pretty clit until you’re jerking your body up and down and his other hand has to hold you down to stay still. michael moans your name out, leaning back in his chair as he thinks about you in your shorts, your ass looking so voluptuous in them. he’s wondered if you ever seen his print because of it, a part of him hoping you did, another part of him, the more sane part, hoping you didn’t.

michael continues to think about you, your pretty face and tears that cover them, your pouty self as you complain about the most basic things your boyfriend should be able to fix but michael ends up fixing it anyway. your hypothetical moans really control everything about this man, fuck he needs you.

he ends up cumming all over his hand and pants as he thrusts up, thinking about the way your pussy would feel around his dick, sucking him good, the way he knows you could. he needs to have your hands on him, needs to feel you driving him wild with your kisses, watching you struggle to get a word out cause you can’t believe you’re getting fucked by someone older. that shit alone drives him wild, he’s wondered if you thought about getting fucked by a man his age or by him.

Thriller!EraMichael Jackson x Reader

masterlist

warnings: reader having a complicated relationship with food.

The hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen was usually a comforting, grounding sound, but tonight it felt like an interrogation light, silently tormenting you as you tried to ignore it.

You stood in the centre of the dimly lit kitchen, leaning back against the island. Your hands shoved deep into a jacket that belonged to Michael. On the counter in front of you sat a small, ceramic plate with a piece of buttered toast.

You had been staring at it for twenty minutes.

Your relationship with food has always been hard to explain. A complicated knot of control, anxiety, and stress. Some days, eating felt like a chore, and one of those days being tonight.

The thought of eating anything filled you with a heavy, suffocating, dread that made your stomach twist into a painful knot.

A floorboard creaked behind you.

You flinched, instinctively stepping away from the source of noise as if you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t be doing.

“Hey,” a soft comforting voice murmured from the doorway. Michael stepped into the dim light of the kitchen. His curls loose, framing his face beautifully.

“Michael,” you breathed, your voice a small, shy thing. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” he said gently, offering you a small reassuring smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes like usual. The result of spending so much time together, he had a sense for your moods, the same way you had for his. He walked over toward the island, his movements careful and quiet. He leaned against the island beside you. He didn’t notice the plate immediately, his eyes stayed on you. “I felt you leave the room Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just… thirsty.” you lied, hoping that he’d believe it.

Michael nodded. Of course he knows that you’re lying, but he didn’t call you out on it. His eyes drifting towards the counter, where the plate and toast sat. He knew the signs.

Slowly Michael moved closer, careful not to crowd you. “Have you eaten lunch?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. Your face heating up in shame. “I wasn’t really hungry. Janet and LaToya were talking, and I… I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay,” Michael spoke gently. He reached out his long fingers making their way to your wrist. He pulled your hand out of your pocket, he held your hand, fingers interlocking with yours, and thumb stroking a smooth rhythm against your knuckles. “You don’t need to explain anything to me.”

“I feel stupid mike,” you confessed before you could stop yourself. Michael felt his own heart breaking because of your words, his eyes tracing your face carefully. He noticed the sad frown you had, the way the corners of your mouth were currently pointing downwards just the tiniest bit. “It’s just food. Everyone does it. It shouldn’t be this hard.”

Michael’s face softened and it only made your heart ache even more. He stepped into your space, pulling you to face him, wrapping an arm around you. He kissed the top of your head, smoothing your hair in a familiar, comforting manner.

“Don’t say that,” Michael said, his voice low. “Don’t ever call yourself stupid.”

You pulled away slightly, your eyes welling with sudden tears. He always knew. He never judged. Michael followed you wherever you were, even if it was down in the dark trenches of your own mind.

His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheekbone. Then slowly, he grabbed the plate on the counter moving it closer beside you. “You need to fuel your body, okay?” Michael coaxed. “You don’t have to eat the whole thing. Just one bite. If you don’t like it you can spit it out into the skin, I won’t say a word I promise.”

You stared at the toast, your chest tightening up with that familiar feeling of anxiety. Looking back at Michael you saw how soft his eyes were, how much patience he had for you. The unconditional love and care that he poured into you without ever asking for anything in return.

Slowly, hesitantly, you reached out and took the small piece of toast off the plate. Your hand shaking slightly.

Your eyes making their way back to Michael, you needed reassurance.

“I’m right here,” Michaael whispered, his hand moving to your waist, his thumb stroking against you. A habit you suppose he’d randomly picked up one day. “Take your time.”

You lifted the toast to your mouth, before your mind kept screaming at you, you took a bite. You instantly saw the way relief flooded through Michael.

Swallowing, you closed your eyes, leaning your forehead against Michael’s chest. His hand reached out behind you, moving to rub slow, grounding, soothing circles against your back.

You stayed like that for a long time, wrapped in his arms. Words didn’t need to be said. You didn’t say the words that were hovering at the tip of your tongue, the terrifying, thrilling truth that you deeply loved him.

sorry that this is so short 🙂‍↕️

you could do it on your own, while you’re lookin’ at me . ♡

or in which, you and jaafar are just two horny people.

warnings: 18+ (MDNI), hella disgusting again. you go from pleasuring yourself in front of him -> him face-fucking you -> him coming on your chest -> him doing you on the floor.

additional warnings: cum. cum. cum. cum. + usage of the word “daddy” once? idk how the jaafar community will react to that so just dipping my toes in. 😔 if yg dont fw that i’ll remove it, so my apologies in advance!

the wet sounds of jaafar’s tongue lapping up the juices spilling from your gushing entrance bounce off the walls of your shared, crammy bedroom. you’re so close, you can feel it.

⟡ ۫ . 🧁 — michael loved his sister dearly, but he can’t stand that she’s your friend. she’s always been opinionated and very vocal, and she doesn’t hesitate to call him out whenever he’s caught catching a peek. and she knows he hates being called out or exposed, but that’s what sisters are for right? to push.

you could be having a sleepover or movie night so you’re in a comfortable pair of lounge shorts, and something as subtle as reaching over for a handful of popcorn makes your shorts ride up. it gives michael a perfect view, the round cups of your ass falling beneath the hem of your shorts. and with an instant his eyes are locked on your behind, and la toya takes notice almost immediately. she reaches over you, swatting michael on the shoulder, “i saw that michael!” her voice high pitched and squeaky.

he’s shaking his head with embarrassment and defeat, with a tight lip smile to match. his cheeks feel warm and his heart nearly drops at the screeching sound of her voice breaking through the previous silence the three of you shared. his voice small and quiet, “quit it, toya.”

and you’ve got a handful of popcorn stuffed in your mouth, sharing looks between them with confusion. their siblings so you figured it was normal sibling teasing.

⟡ ۫ . 🧁 — you always catch him looking at you, typically you pay it no mind. maybe he’s a little awkward, it’s sweet. but other times his staring is super intense, and you can always feel it.

it’s summertime, and the sun is letting you know it. blazing hot when it nearly cooks your skin. so it’s only right to indulge in a sweet treat to cool yourself off. something as innocent as strawberry flavored water ice has michael staring at you with a different type of intensity. his eyes are laced with lust.

long pointy tongue licking long flat stripes against the frozen goodness. you’re trying to act fast, the warm sun not being too forgiving with preserving the previous state of your frozen treat. you’re skillful with your technique, a few bold licks before your wrapping your lip gloss-slick lips around the whole thing with a loud slurp. the slurp innocent in your mind but lewd in his.

hands sticky with the way it’s melting over the plastic cup you hold, knuckles tainted in a sugary liquid. and it’s only a matter of time before you’re nearly deepthroating your index finger with hopes you’ll clear the substance off. he’s nearly panting watching the scene unfold before him, he can feel himself twitch whenever you make another whine or slurp, desperate to lap up any mess you’ve made.

and la toya is looking right at him, look right at you.

once he’s realizes he’s caught, his head is whipping around hoping he can shift his focus towards anything else.

⟡ ۫ . 🧁 — michael always giving you a task to do, asking you to hand him things he know you can’t reach, or something you have to bend down and get, hoping he can catch a glimpse under your skirt. just to get a little tiny winy peak of your cotton panties. he’s love to have a visual he can keep in the back of his mind for later on in the evening.

and per usual la toya catches him in his schemes, “get it yourself michael!” she again yells at him, before grabbing your arm to stop you from whatever item he ‘so desperately’ needs. and he’s sucking his teeth with the roll of his eyes.

⟡ ۫ . 🧁 — any excuse to touch your feet.. you could be at an amusement park and you lost your flip flop during a ride, of course michael finds it and he’s on one knee with your sandal handed out.

his hand ‘innocently’ assisting you in fitting your foot in the sandal and he’ll make a quick comment about how he likes your toes, or how you pedicure looks good.

if you’re having a pillow fight and your foot accidentally pushes up against his groin somehow, and he’s fighting for his life not to instinctively hump against it like an animal in heat.

god forbid if you’re playing twister and your foot is just slam in his face. he’s can’t be normal around you, he feels feral around you and it’s literally uncontrollable.

⟡ ۫ . 🧁 — loves to play with everyone, but you especially. you could be bouncing in a bounce house, or jumping rope, maybe bouncing onna trampoline; his eyes are solely fixated on your chest. heavy flesh bouncing around, feels like their antagonizing him—look at what you can’t have.

they don’t even have to bounce for him to peep. he’ll intentionally buy you long necklaces so he can look at how your breasts swallow the pendant attached to it’s chain, and he doesn’t care enough to fight the grin on his face anytime he notices it.