⊠summary: fanum swore up and down he ended stream. he called her paranoid but when all there was banging on the door, they found out real fast he didnât⊠w aura farming?
⊠word count: ~3.4k
⊠authors note: listen lmfaoo im on my period ok it lowkey sucks but i cant get this man out my head. no proof read either.
18+ only, smut, soft dom!fanum.
fanum x fem!reader
they had no intention of turning the amp house into a scene. but fanum ended his stream early after being on for hours and figuring heâd hop back on later that night. he clicked through his windows, turned the monitors picture off, tossing his headset on the desk like it was routine since he usually reset everything when it was time to go live again.
journey was already in his bed, stretched out in her bonnet and one of his tees waiting for the second he logged off. her phone was in her hand, but her eyes were on him as he kicked off his slides and moved around like everything was chill.
âyou ended your stream for real?â she asked, giving him a look. âlike actually closed it out?â
he laughed a little as he pulled off his hoodie and tossed it on the chair. âyes, bro. damn. you so paranoid.â
ânah, cause one time you said you ended it and chat was still in there talking about some i could hear kai eating wings,â she replied, still watching him like he couldnât be trusted.
âthat was kai,â fanum said, climbing onto the bed. âhe be clicking shit with no mousepad. i shut all my stuff down. iâm not new to this. come on now ma.â
she looked at him sideways. âmhm, yea itâs all of that til you mid-stroke and your whole chat get a front row seat.â
âfirst of all,â he said, leaning over her with a grin, âyou assuming we getting that far.â
âiâm assuming you been waiting to fold me all night and iâm just tryna protect your career.â
âgirl, if we getting exposed, itâs gonna be your fault âcause you the one that scream like we filming.â
he didnât even give her a chance to clap back.
his hands were already on her thighs, pushing her shorts to the side with no hesitation, his fingers teasing just enough to let her know he wasnât playing. she sucked her teeth and pulled his shirt toward her, dragging him in like she had something to prove.
âyou been acting brand new all day,â she said, sliding her hand under his waistband.
âand you been on dick since i logged in,â he replied, kissing her slow at first, then biting her bottom lip and pulling back. âsay you not feening right nowâ.â
âiâm not.â
âyou lying,â he said, rubbing her exactly where she needed it, grinning when her legs twitched.
âshut the fuck up,â she whispered, already breathless.
he slid her panties off with one hand, kissed down her stomach, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed like he was gonna prove something. his mouth was on her before she could even exhale properly, tongue dragging slow and deep, switching pace just to get her reaction.
âfanum-â
he pulled away over her, his breath feeling cool while she was suffocatingly hot for a second and looked up at her. âyou know that ainât my name mama.â
journey starred into his eyes seductively, running her manner hands down her stomach to her clit, rubbing her clit. âwhat you gonna do, beat me?.â
he smirked, chuckling at her. âoh thatâs what we doing? you got me fucked up.â he pulled her away from her clit, tossing her arm to the side. journey rolled her eyes losing the sensation she was bringing to herself. he licked his lip grabbing her thighs and flipping her over too quickly for her to register. âput your ass up.â
she obeyed immediately. âsee this why i be fucking you like i be fucking you. cause why you tryna dominate me?â he spoke in a low tone while tugging his boxers off. he grabbed his dick, stroking it slowly, exhaling at the pleasure it brought him. âim bouta show you how to dominate baby.â
journey was laying ass up, face down playing with her clit again unable to stop herself. funny thing is, if fanum were to speak to her like this outside of the bedroom here or at their apartment she wouldâve been chewing his ass.
fanum ran his dick through her wet folds letting it lubricant itself. but he wasnt too patient right now. âspit on my dick.â
again, she obeyed religiously. after repositioning herself, she didnât get a chance to prepare for her back getting blown out.
âOH MY-â journey exclaimed feeling fanums dick fill her in one go.
he wasnt trying to be gentle, he needed her to melt into his arms. fanum bit his lip feeling how wet she was. âwhatâs my name?â
âfanum fuuuuuuck.â she whimpered still adjusting while he was fucking her.
fanum slapped her ass hard. âtu sabe que ese no es mi nombre. (you know that aint my name.)â
he grabbed her by the throat, pulling her up to his chest. he pressed his other hand onto her stomach causing her to gasp loudly. she cried out feeling fanumâs dick so deep inside she felt like passing out. it hurt so good.
âroberto.â she answered panting.
âsay it again, dilo duro coño. (say it loud the fuck.) no one gonna hear you. you close?â he said against her, lips wet with sloppy sex kisses.
âdonât stop.â
âhuh.â he teased
âdonât fucking stop, iâm gonna comeââ her back arching, voice cracking, her nails scratching him as she tried to ground herself.
he did. he went hard. deep strokes, grip tight on her waist, chain swinging while he hit it from the back like the walls werenât thin and the house wasnât full of people. she was loud. louder than usual. moaning his name, screaming every few seconds, breath catching every time he bottomed out.
âthis pussy still mine?â
âyes, fuck, yes! i love you, i love you i love you.â
what neither of them realized was that the twitch app was still running in the background. the mic was still hot. fanum hadnât actually logged out. and everything? the moaning, the clapping, the roberto, was being picked up live.
downstairs, the rest of the boys were still streaming. âyo why chat saying mute fanumâs mic?â kai asked mid-game, glancing at the feed.
agent paused, squinting. ânah, did somebody just moan?â
âthat was a full âroberto,ââ duke said, sitting up.
âhe left the stream up,â davis whispered.
chris blinked at the camera. âbro. they getting it in upstairs. i can hear the bed.â
kaiâs jaw dropped. âwait⊠wait NAAAAAHHHH THE MIC HOT.â
âoh my fucking god,â journey cried out. fanum groaned deep into her ear, still inside her, still hitting it like he had something to prove.
then loud banging came. âYO. MUTE THAT SHIT!â kaiâs voice rang out, followed by straight-up screaming laughter.
âBRO, THE MIC STILL HOT. MY STREAM HEARD EVERYTHING,â davis hollered.
ânah this man said âthatâs mineâ like we was tryna eat off his shit,â duke added, wheezing.
âi turned my headset down and still heard that shit,â agent called, his voice cracking. âyou got twitch on parental advisory now?â
fanum didnât even move. he laid out, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to jurneyâs back. he tapped the bed once like he was mentally logging off.
âyou proud of yourself?â she mumbled, laughing into the pillow, her voice still shaky.
ânah,â he replied. âbut i ainât ashamed either.â
another round of bangs hit the door before they all scattered, twenty minutes later, they had taken a quick shower and threw on sweats and helped jurney into one of his zip-ups, pulling the hood over her head and kissing her forehead.
âyou hungry?â he asked, smoothing his hand down her back.
âyou finna cook for me after embarrassing me like that?â
âyes maâam. mami aint raise no disrespectful king. your ass just gave the whole twitch world an exclusive and iâm tryna soften the blow.â
they walked downstairs together like nothing happened. like the whole internet didnât just get a preview. but the second they hit the kitchen thoughâŠ
âaye look who finally showed up,â duke said, sipping juice like he hadnât just been banging on their door minutes ago.
âmr. thatâs mine,â kai snorted.
ânah jurney you good? blink twice if you traumatized,â agent said, barely holding in a laugh.
âshe screamed like it was a studio session,â chris added, grinning. âi thought that was summer walker.â
âaight. yâall done?â fanum asked, already pulling eggs from the fridge. âget it off yâall chest now.â
ânah you the one who got something off her chest,â davis said under his breath, then backed up when jurney threw a paper towel roll at his head.
âkeep playing with me,â she warned, sliding onto the stool at the counter like she hadnât just been folded in half an hour ago.
âyou lucky i got me some,â fanum muttered, shaking his head as he started seasoning.
ânah,â kai said, putting both hands on the counter. âyou lucky we didnât go viral off that sound bite.â
but it was too late. the clip was already circulating. the chat went feral.
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haii could you do thriller michael and a reader who is a singer and a model and is more successful than michael ( or on the same level ) and both fighting for number one with their songs but the reader is a bitch when michael tries to be nice and they have unresolved ( one sided) beef from the 70s ( jacksons era mike) during an interview with the reader about being more famous than the jackson and she says rude stuff and he holds a grudge against her but he has a massive crush on her and secretly watches her music videos in private and like time skip to thriller where itâs the 1984 grammys but they have to do this magazine photoshoot thing to promote it and they both hate each others guts. time skip to the grammys and both of them get eight grammys and the reader is angry. ( and a plot twist happens i guess )
( could you also try include smut if you can & sorry if it doesnât make sense)
Ę ËáČđŒâ Not so friendly fire âą thriller!Michael x reader
‷ ăSynopsis ËËË You and Michael hated each other, and everyone knew it, until the Grammys night after-party brought you two unexpectedly closer.
đŁČâ warnings : ur a bitch ngl. Virgin mike. You taking the lead. P in v. Unprotected sex.
Riah's note ! : this is genuinely the longest thing ive ever written and I love how it came out, so hopefully you guys love it just as much as I do !
The year was 1979, and child star Michael Jackson had just released his first solo album. It played nonstop everywhere you went. Girls lined up at every record store in hopes of snatching the last vinyl from the shelves as they scrambled towards the once full shelves, disappointment flashing across their faces as they did the walk of shame towards the door, hoping that maybe the store in the town over would have it.
You were on your way to your second interview of the day, your eyes looking out the window. The outside world was barely seen through the heavy tint of the window that kept you hidden inside the heavy metal doors as you rolled down the street. Your freshly manicured nails tapped against the armrest as you finally reached the studio.
It was known that you dominated the charts and the fashion scene; it was hard for even top artists to get a number one album with you around.
The lights were heavy against your face, nearly blinding you as you tried your best to blink away the white spots that took over your vision as you looked over at the interviewer.
âMichael Jackson just came out with his first solo album. How do you feel about you being more successful than him, despite being in the industry less time and being the same age?â she asked, smiling at you, waiting for an answer as the cameras rolled, broadcasting that grainy texture that was fine for the time.
âLike Jackson Five Michael?â You laughed before continuing. âHe's a cute little opening act, but it's very clear that I dominate the charts, and you know, I don't compete with opening acts. I mean, you donât see him on the cover of Vogue either, do you? He's adorable though,â you relaxed back in your cushioned seat.
Unbeknownst to you, twenty-year-old Michael sat in front of his TV screen, looking at you like you'd hung the moon and the stars one by one. His hand clutched one of the magazines you were on the cover of; one of your CDs from his personal collection sat on the ground next to him. He was both angry yet intrigued by you somehow, and though he was beyond offended, he was still enticed by you.
Maybe that was just the effect you had on people despite your shitty attitude.
Fast forward to present day. Michael Jackson, the guy who sang hit songs of the time like "I'll Be There," "I Want You Back," "Donât Stop 'Til You Get Enough," "Rock with You," and now most recently: "Thriller." But your main problem was the fact that both of your songs were fighting for the number one spot and the fact that it was Michael who you were fighting with. But you should have expected it with the fame he had from all his eras leading up to "Thriller," and though you were way more popular than him, you were still pissed. In fact, that number one spot should've been yours all the way, considering the fans all over that you'd accumulated through your years of making music, not to mention the modeling gigs that you had lined up for months in advance, including the shoot with Michael to promote the '84 Grammys.
The Grammys wanted to see their views climb, and the fans wanted to finally see the two most recognized artists in the world in one shot, so there you were at the Rolling Stone shooting that both of your PR teams forced you to be at in spite of you two hating each other's guts.
The set was beyond lively, the lights blared against the shoot, the crew ran around fixing the lighting and your outfits. Everyone was excited to work with the two biggest stars of the time.
âMichael, don't step on the dress!â you snapped at him, the tip of his shoe just barely nudging the edge of your dress, ruffling the fabric slightly.
âI'm barely touching it, stop being a baby!â he raised his hands up, acting as though he was so annoyed, but in reality, he was beyond excited to be near you.
âOkay, you two, let's get this over with so we all stop hearing this bickering,â the photographer spoke, angling her camera perfectly, attempting to catch the perfect shot.
âYou heard her,â Michael whispered quietly enough that you were the only one who heard that slick comment.
âWhatever, just do what you're here for,â you bit back harshly. âYou're only here because I'm carrying the cover.â
âLet's let the votes decide that on Grammy night,â the remark was smooth as he adjusted his tie, getting back into position.
âThis isn't going to work,â the photographer looked at the images again, shaking her head. âI need you guys to scoot closer and act like you don't hate each other! Ah, perfect!â she snapped another photo, admiring the shot.
It was a few more hours of being in close proximity to the person you hated most, your eyes and head hurting from the giant lights that brightened the room as you stretched out your limbs, completely ready to take the restricting dress off and change into something less restricting as you headed towards your manager.
âSee you Grammy night,â Michael smirked, walking past you and out the door. You hated that gorgeous smirk and how cocky he was no matter what room he was in, and it annoyed you completely. Actually, it did more than annoy you; it completely pissed you off.
Grammy night was beyond hectic, the constant flashes of light bearing down on your face as you smiled on the red carpet, full of other nominees as they chatted with each other, excitement buzzing in the air. The gorgeous updo that you had your hair in was perfect, matching with a silk ivory dress that made you look like an angel that fell down just for this night. The heels you wore were perfect, clicking across the floor as the hem of your dress swept against the carpet.
You looked unreal, angelic, and everyone knew it, especially Michael as his eyes drifted off to where you were standing. Even though in the public eye you were enemies, hated each other's guts, and though Michael didn't speak too much on it, it wasn't his style, but you? You were more than vocal on how much you despised him.
While Michael was nominated for twelve categories, you were nominated for just one more, making it one of the most anticipated Grammy nights in history. People were desperate to see who would take home the most Grammys in one night between the two of you as everyone sat in their seats, whirling with excitement. You sat in the front row, chatting with a few other celebrities, the lights dimming as a familiar voice, one you knew sounded familiar, spoke the opening monologue.
As the night went on, you became increasingly frustrated with the fact that Michael was following close behind in the amount of wins.
One, then two, then suddenly the count was tied with you, coming to a whopping eight Grammys. Each time he stepped up to the mic, he made sure to wink at you. The cameras instinctively moved in to see if there was a change in your facial expressions, a bitter smile playing out on your face that very few would be able to see through.
By the end of the night, you'd both cradled eight Grammys in your arms, a smile plastered all over Michael's face behind the blacked-out aviators as he smiled for the pictures, but you were pissed. You were supposed to be the winner tonight, not both of you. So there you were, a strained smile spread across your face, cradling the eight hard-earned Grammys you'd won like it was a baby you tried so hard not to wake.
It was even worse at the after-party. People swarmed the two of you, constantly asking how you felt about eight Grammys as the music blasted heavily through the speakers in the dim lights. Colored rays of light streamed through the air as the heat from everyone's body made the room feel immediately hot and stuffy. Your head started to hurt from the constant pounding of noise and questions that hounded you, taking a second to step out into the February night.
The sounds of the nightlife spilled out from the building. There was something about the dark night sky, stars that twinkled, illuminating them with the dim light as you took another deep breath. Sure, on the outside you were cocky and overconfident for a good reason, considering the fact that you were used to being on top, people all over rushed to catch your attention, pulling you every which way for photo shoots and performances. But deep down, it was nice to have someone who understood the pressure of being perfect all the time, even if it was your worst enemy.
"Hey," the sound of the door closing and that familiar voice, taking your attention away from the night sky. For once, you stopped to think if you should snap at him with a slick remark or if you should just be normal for once.
"People are looking for you." He stood next to you, hands dug in the pockets of his trousers, his eyes too focused on you, the occasional golden beam of light veiling over the two of you. It was a rare moment of silence, silence where there were no flashes of cameras, no yelling of paparazzi, no one there to ask you how you felt.
Just you and Michael.
âYou feelin' all right?â Concern took over his voice; he looked anxiously between you and the road.
âI'm fine, Michael.â
âOh, okay.â
Another moment of silence washed over you. The nightly sounds taking over the conversation as you stepped side to side.
âY'know, I've always been a fan of you,â he laughed before continuing. âI kept up with you like you were the most important thing in my life. Then I saw that interview of you calling me an opening act and⊠I felt some kind of way, kind of angry, but I couldn't be mad because I was so obsessed with you.â The words fell out uncontrollably, falling into the almost empty night air.
"Yeah? I didn't know you felt like that," you shuffled, heels snapping against the concrete.
"Yeah, I've always thought you were gorgeous, hoping I'd have the opportunity to be close to you, but you always seemed to have something against me." He turned to face you as you stepped closer, your bodies nearly touching as you turned to face him.
"If I really hated you, would I still be standing here? And I sure as hell wouldn't be standing this close to you," you spoke, poking a finger at his chest, feeling his heart's heavy rhythmic beating under your finger.
"What? So you don't hate me?"
"Of course not. In fact, I admire you, how well you handle the pressure of the world." You leaned in closer, the warmth from your glossy lips radiating, only making the urge to press his lips against yours more heavy.
"I wanna kiss you," he murmured nervously, despite that cocky exterior.
"Do it then," you spoke like you were daring him before the feeling of warmth enveloped your lips, fingers instinctively intertwining with his own gloved hand.
Everything after that was a blur, from you two in the back of your car, lips sloppily connecting with each other as you made your way back to your penthouse, Michael feeling so bad that he ended up tipping your driver hundreds just for what he had to endure.
The heavy elevators slammed shut, the two of you barely making it inside without tearing each other apart, lips mashing together again, more desperate this time as the two of you could barely contain the excitement that whirled through the stuffy elevator before the ding of you reaching your floor caught your attention. The sound of the heavy door parting, revealing your penthouse, and the smell of you taking over his senses completely.
Your heels were the first thing to come off, the ache that was pinging through your heels easing from the sudden pressure that was being released from your shoes being tossed near the door before a trail of clothes led up to the door of your bedroom, your dress being the last thing to go as you slipped it down, revealing the perfect set underneath that made Michael's jaw go slack and his underwear grow tighter by the second.
"I-I've never done anything like this." The words came out nervously, despite the fact that he was on top of you, arms caging you in as you lay down against the plush sheets of your bed.
âWhat?â To be honest, you were a little shocked hearing that, and considering the fact that he was such a ladies' man and that he had Brooke Shields hanging on his arm all night, you were almost sure he'd at least have some kind of experience.
"Is⊠that okay?â You nodded slowly, sitting up on your elbows.
âSit on the edge of the bed," you spoke, watching as he followed your orders, scooting closer to the edge of the bed as you slipped down to your knees, your finger intertwining with the waistband of the underwear, nudging it down and encouraging him to lift his hips as you slipped it down to his ankles, watching as his dick sprung against his stomach.
âLet me take care of you, okay? " you cooed, letting your fingers wrap around his shaft. The familiar leak of precum coating the sensitive head, your thumb rubbing over the slit. The warmth from your hands sent Michael in a spiral; his body felt hot, hands covering his mouth, worried that the lewd sound that threatened to slip from his throat would be too loud as he felt your hands slide up and down in a slow, teasing motion that made his hips buck instinctively.
âOhâŠâ he groaned, tossing his head back, soaking in every little bit of your pretty hands running against him.
âIs that good?â You murmured, slightly speeding up the pace.
âMhm, more than good." His eyes were just barely open, looking at your eyes that peered up at him through his lashes, gasping at the sudden gush of sensitivity that washed over him, the sensitivity that was building up in his dick, which was so intense that he wasn't sure what to do with it.
He kept one hand on your head, the other planted into the mattress, keeping him up right.
âWait, wait," he moaned out, his hips bucking up into your hand. âWhat's wrong?â You stopped in your tracks, filling your face as you shifted on your knees, the soft carpet saving your knees from the pain of the floor.
âIt's not you, I promise. I just want to feel you, Mama."
It wasn't long before your bra and panties were tossed somewhere in your room. Michael was in between your legs as you lay on your back, too eager to feel your walls against him as you kept your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips, soaking up the feeling of him pressing inside your entrance, earning a moan from the both of you as he rocked his hips slowly, trying his best not to seem desperate for you.
âIs this okay?â He was nearly breathless. The only thing he wanted to do was bury himself inside of your walls as you cried out his name.
âPlease, Michael," you whined, rolling your hips in a circle in order to get some kind of friction before he moved gently, each thrust accompanied by the wet squelching and skin slapping as you grasped at his back, manicured nails digging into his skin that went unnoticed because of the fact that he was way too deep inside you to care.
"Mike, you're doing so good, just like that." Everything felt way too much; the heat between your bodies made everything way too hot. A thin layer of sweat spread across the two. Your once neat updo is completely run ragged by you repeatedly tossing your head back against the pillows. The rest of your limbs were wrapped around Michael like he was the last thing you'd be able to touch.
His rhythmic thrusts became sloppy, mixed with the sensitivity of his previous near-orgasm, and the way he was pumping in and out of you now almost made him dizzy as your walls clenched around him.
âI can't s'good," he whined, continuing the sporadic movement of his thrusts. Michael didn't know much about sex, but he did know a few tricks from his years of hearing his brothers talk about all the girls they'd hooked up with. Taking that knowledge, he slid a hand that was once used to cage you in down to your clit, rubbing gentle circles, your body lurching forward in slow waves of pleasure as you rolled your hips.
âFuckââ You were so close; everything was so, so hot, makeup running down your cheeks from the tears that kept falling through your already hazy vision.
"Michaell," you huffed out. Your body convulsed around him as you bit your bottom lip, nearly drawing blood from how hard you were biting down on it, as you gripped the sheets, making your knuckles hurt. Michael, on the other hand, was in pure bliss, somehow just barely managing to pull out, spurts of his cum leaking out onto your stomach as he caught his breath.
"Are you okay?â You laughed at his dazed face, eyes that seemed unfocused, glazed over, and mind clearly too fogged up to even think properly.
âHm? Yeah, yeah."
âYou sure?"
âYeah, I mean, I'm here spending Grammy night with you, so I'm more than fine."
"Ugh, don't be cheesy."
âWhat? I thought I was being romantic or somethinâ
đŒđŸđ¶đ¶đȘđ»đ: when he slips up and accidentally calls you mommy
đœđ: mommy kink, smut for Jaafar and Jermajesty, suggestive for randy jr
đȘđŸđœđ±đžđ»âđŒ đ·đžđœđź: i lowkey (high-key) got lazy and unmotivated at the end, my bad yall. imma make it up for the next one. excuse any mistakes! I barely proofread, oops.
This content does NOT contain AI and may not be used to train AI
Jaafar Jackson
One of Jaafarâs hands had a grip on your hip as he slowly plunged in and out of you, his tip slightly jabbing at your g-spotâsmall staccato whimpers spilled out of your mouth as the constant hitting at your g-spot sent you into a frenzy. âJâit feels so goodâ, you stuttered out, your brain barely processing the words that left your mouth. âI know, baby, I know.â Jaafar cooed at you while he took his other hand to slither between the two of you to play with your clit.
The hitting of your spot and the stimulation of your clit, you clenched around him as your slick drooled all over him. A faint whimper fell from Jaafar at the feeling of you clench around himââoh fuck, you feel so good, mommyâ.
Jaafarâs thrusts came to an abrupt halt as your eyes widened at the word that flew out of his mouth. Jaafar's face was now a faint pink, the tip of his ears beet red as he stumbled over his words. âI-ummm- â, he looked everywhere but at you, as he felt so embarrassed, he began to pull out but you wrapped your legs around him to pull him closer. His eyes widened as he quickly looked down at you to see a small glint in your eye. âDonât stop, please, I actually liked itâ. A giggle fell from your lips as a boyish smile appeared on Jaafarâs face.
He was still for a moment before he moved your legs up to his shoulders as he pulled out to where the tip was barely in before plunging deep into youâa loud gasp filled the room at his sudden movement.
âI love this pussy, mommyâ
Jermajesty Jackson
If someone asked Jermajesty what time it was, he simply couldnât tell youâhis mind completely turned to mush. His body was slouched on the couch, groans bouncing off the walls as you edged him for the nth time tonight. âBaby, please. " Jermajesty couldnât help but whine out as he felt your mouth lift up from his dick.
You kept eye contact with him as you peppered kisses on his tip that leaked globs of precum. âYou gonna say sorry, pa?â Your voice filled with slight annoyance as your other hand reached down to massage his balls.
You two got into an argument earlier in the day, and Jermajesty childishly decided to ignore you for the rest of the day. When night fell, you were completely fed up with his childish antics. You found him in the living room watching TV, and thatâs when you decided enough was enough. Thatâs how Jermajesty ended up in the position he is in now.
ân-noâ. Jermajesty shook his headâyour face frowned up in annoyance and at the fact that he told you no. You removed your hands from his lower half, stripping yourself of your shorts and panties, then you lifted yourself up to sit on his lap. Your slick lips now sat directly on his dick, you both let out an audible sigh of reliefâJermajesty tried grabbing your hips but you immediately grabbed both of his hands to push them away. âNo touching until you say sorry.â You slowly rocked back and forth, your slick now covering him. His eyes rolled back at your wetness and the feeling of you humping him.
âAre you gonna say sorry now?â you whined out as you began to pick up the pace, the feeling sending a shiver down your spine. Jermajesty shook his head once again at your wordsâyour jaw slightly ticked as you finally had enough of his pettiness. Your hand went to the back of his head, tightly gripping a patch of his hair to bring his face towards yoursâa loud whimper from Jermajesty as your actions shocked him. âI said are you sorry, Jermajestyâ, you gritted out, trying to keep your composure as you felt your orgasm wanting to creep up on you.
âYesâ, he finally gave inââyes what?â Your grip tightened on his hair even more. âYes, mommy.â His tear-filled eyes widened as the word mommy slipped from his lips, he expected you to scold him or stop completely but he was wrongâyour hips didnât even sputter at the word, you slid back and forth on him even faster. You pulled him in as if you were going to kiss him but your lips hovered over his.
âSince Iâm mommy, let mommy take care of her good boy, hm?â
Synopsis: As you talk about a life-saving procedure you learnt from medical school, you unconsciously serve as an inspiration for Michael's new song.
Pairing: paediatric doctor!reader x thrad era!Michael.
Tags: other than brief mentions about cpr and the history of resuscitation which might be triggering to some. Fluff.
A/n: it's midnight here and this idea has been haunting my brain too much to leave me alone. Imagine unconsciously giving inspo for one of Mike's biggest hits cries. Thank you for your support so far <3 I look forward to writing and getting to know this community more.
After a long shift of treating sick children in Cedars-Sinai, you finally let your shoulders down as you walk into your apartment.
Placing your stethoscope and bag in the coffee table, you walk to the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water.
It was a rough day. Almost losing a patient does that to you. To anybody, you suppose.
Leaning your hip on the counter, you stare at the water, not really drinking it and thinking about how much of a close call it had been.
"You're back!" Michael's bright voice tugs a smile on your lips. From the bedroom, he walks to you with a huge grin of his.
Placing the glass back at the counter, you wrap your hands around his neck and press your head to his chest. "I missed you last night," you mumble.
His arms are around your waist and you feel a soft pressure on your hair. "I'm sorry, love. Y'know how a meeting with Q goes." He places his forehead to your shoulder. "I'm here now, for the rest of the day."
You pull away enough to confirm with your eyes. "You mean it?"
Michael leans close and kisses you softly. "With my whole heart."
The word heart instantly makes your mood drop. Michael frowns when you bring your hand down to your side.
"What's the matter, darlin'?" He asks, his wide eyes searching your face.
You press at the tension sitting in the back of your neck. "Rough day in the hospital."
Michael begins to move around in the kitchen. "What happened?"
"Almost lost a child at the table." You see him pause from where he was turning on the kettle. "I had to perform CPR to save her."
He swallows. "Is she okay now?"
You briefly close your eyes. "She will be, yeah."
"Oh, thank God," he says. The sweet scent of Oolong tea perforates the room. As the tea boils, Michael comes to your side.
You squeal when he lifts you up to the counter. Steadying with a hand on his shoulder, you ask almost breathless, "What was that for?"
He presses a chaste kiss to the side of your mouth. "For being my best girl." Then to the next side. "For savin' the sick children."
As he presses feather soft kisses all over your face, you begin to giggle. "Mike, that tickles."
Finally he closes the distance and kisses your lips. Humming pleasantly, you kiss him back with your hands thrown around his strong shoulders.
The whistle of the kettle drags the two of you from the kiss. Michael chuckles at your pout of being interrupted.
He kisses your temple. "I'll steep the tea and bring it over."
Watching him with a tilt of your head, you ask, "Do you have to?" You slide your fingers to the collar of his shirt and whisper. "We have the whole night for us, baby."
"Yes, darlin' but â" he slips away to the kettle. "The tea first."
"You choose the tea over me, Jackson?"
Filtering the content into two cups, he says over his shoulder, "I don't want my girl tired and exhausted for the night." A conspicuous smirk forms in his lips. "Long night waitin', ain't it baby?"
Swallowing your giggle, you climb down from the perch. With thanks, you cradle the warm ceramic cup in both your hands.
A random tid-bit floats to the front of your mind. "Do you know something?"
Michael looks up from the rim of the cup. "What is it?"
"You've ever seen the CPR mannequin?"
"In the hospitals I've gone to charity, yes." He asks curiously. "Why you asking?"
You place your elbow on the counter. "Do you know that it has a name?"
He takes a sip of tea, knowing this isn't the first time you shared random medical facts out of nowhere. Most days after making love, either he'll talk about the songs he was developing or you'll throw some medical jargon around until he falls asleep with his arms tight around you.
"I don't, baby." He mirrors your position and leans his head on his hand. "What is it?"
"They call it resusci Annie," you say. "Her face looked peaceful in her death, and now everybody practices how to save lives with her."
Suddenly, Michael looks interested. "You make it sound poetic, baby."
"Because it is!" You tell him, almost excited. "With one woman's death â may her soul rest in peace â we're learning resuscitation." You drop your eyes to the pale pink of the tea. "But it doesn't always feel good to say and do it," you say with a sad smile.
The atmosphere sombers. Noticing your silence, Michael clears his throat lightly. He begins, "You say something.. during the process?"
"We do. I did today," you say absent-minded.
His eyes are intent on you. "What is it?"
With your mind still on the child you saved today â Annie, what a coincidence â you say,
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 âê«áȘĘ âź AUTHORS NOTE: If you saw my last post where I talked abt drunk Michael being a mess of cake for his bday party then just know I WAS NOT KIDDING. Heres my once a month smut post :) ENJOYYYYYUHHH and COMMENT THIS IS ONLY MY SECOND TIME WRITING FULL SMUT. (kinda proof-read i got lazy halfway through who writes 6k words n actually proofreads not me.)
 âê«áȘĘ âź SUMMARY/CW: Michael decides YOUâRE his birthday gift/cake. w.c: 5.9k (ik alot of words but worth it) fem!reader , implied black reader but any1 can read includes: drunk michael, food play (icing licking), lots of spit swapping and making out, dry humping, michaels an eater guys, switch!michael, needy michael appearance, ass slapping, hair pulling, FOOT KINK GUYS MICHAEL LOVES YOUR MANICURED FEET. I REPEAT FOOT KINK, strong usage of language, voyurism (public-ish sex), blowjobs , he uses the nickname tink/tinka for you lmk if I forgot anything I beg.
Michael had been waiting for this party for months. Not because he wanted to show off or because he loved being the center of attention, though he'd never admit that part out loud.
  He wanted to celebrate with everyone close to him. His family. His staff. His fans, the ones who'd stuck by him through everything. And last but not least, his wife. You.
 The venue was packed. Lights flashed across the crowd, music thumped through the speakers, and everywhere you looked, someone was laughing or dancing or holding up a drink in Michael's direction.Â
 He moved through the crowd like he belonged there, shaking hands, pulling people into quick hugs, grinning that smile that made cameras flash a little brighter and quicker.
 You watched from a table near the stage a drink in your own hand, smile tugging at your lips. He caught your eye across the room and winked. You rolled your eyes, but you were smiling.
 He made his way over eventually, sliding into the seat beside you, his cheeks already flushed from the heat of the crowd and the drink in his hand. "Enjoyin' yourself Tink?" he asked, his voice warm.
 "I'm watching you make a fool of yourself. It's entertaining" He laughed, bumping his shoulder against yours. "It's my birthday. I'm allowed."
 "You're also a lightweight. Be careful with that." He waved a dismissive hand, already tipsy, his words slurring just slightly at the edges. "I got it under control."
 You raised an eyebrow knowing he was lying, but you weren't going to ruin this for him by worrying. "Sure you do." He downed the rest of his drink and flashed you a grin. "Watch me." You watched him.
 An hour later, he was on stage.
 Someone had dragged him up there, handed him a microphone, and left him to address the crowd. The lights were bright, the music had lowered, and Michael stood swaying noticeably, one hand gripping the mic while the other gestured loosely at nothing in particular. His feet kept shifting like he was trying to find his balance and failing.
 "So -" he began, his voice echoing through the speakers, slow and syrupy. "Wait, where they takin' my cake?" The crowd laughed. You pressed a hand to your mouth, already laughing and trying to cover it horribly.
 Someone from the side called out, "It's right there, Mike!"
 He looked down, blinking slowly at the massive cake sitting on a table on the stage. His name written across the bottom in sparkling letters.
 He stared at it for a long moment. His head tilted. Then straightened. Then tilted again like he was tryin' to see it from a different angle. "...Oh."
 The crowd erupted. You shook your head, still laughing at him. He was making a fool of himself. He squinted at the cake. "Is that... is that my name?" "Yes Michael!" someone from the crowd shouted.
 He nodded slowly, processing. "Yeah. Yeah, that's my name. I remember." Someone in the crowd howled with laughter. The DJ played a sound effect, a record scratch before cutting it off.
 Michael grinned, pleased with himself, and stumbled across stage toward the cake. He moved with the careful deliberation of someone who knew they were drunk but was determined not to show it. It was actually working surprisingly.
 He stood in front of the cake, studying it. He leaned in close, then straightened, then leaned in again. Youâd got the cake personally made for him as a surprise so he hadnât seen it at all before this.Â
 "You okay over there?" you called. He turned to you, eyes glassy and warm. "I'm admirin'." "Admire faster. People wanna eat it, I wanna eat it." He waved a dismissive hand. "They can wait."
 Then without warning, he stuck his finger into the icing. Pulling it out, he examined the white frosting and brought it to his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as he licked it clean.
 "They did good," he mumbled to himself. "Real good."
 Then he noticed you sitting nearby, and a slow drunken grin spread across his face. He lowered his hand, holding his finger out in front of you, still glistening with the remnants of the icing and his spit.
 He looked down at you through fogged, dark eyes, expectant. Waiting. His head swayed slightly as he tried to keep still. The DJ, who'd been providing commentary all night, leaned into his mic. "Ohhh, he wants you to taste it!"
 The crowd hooted. You felt heat creep up your neck, but you didn't look away from him.
 You stood slowly, smoothing your outfit down before stepping toward him. Your hand wrapped around his wrist gently, guiding his hand closer to your face.
 You held his gaze. Then you parted your lips and wrapped them around his finger. Your tongue swirled against the icing, slow and deliberate, licking every bit of sweetness off his skin.Â
 His breath hitched. Eyes staying locked on yours hazy and dark, his lips parted slightly. A soft, barely audible sound escaped his throat. You pulled back with a soft pop, still holding his gaze for just a second longer.
 Then you turned toward the crowd, putting both thumbs up and nodding emphatically. "It's good!" The crowd cheered. The DJ laughed, and you swore someone wolf whistled.
 Behind you, Michael stood frozen, his face burned pink. He ducked his head, letting out a breathy little laugh into the mic, and shifted on his feet.
 He adjusted his jeans. Subtly. Or at least, he thought it was subtle. His hand tugged at the waistband, pulling the fabric away from his body, hoping to hide what was becoming very obvious. He glanced down at himself, then quickly looked away, his blush deepening.
 He barely noticed you sneaking up to him. Before anyone could react, you reached forward and grabbed a huge handful of the ice cream cake holding it up. The crowd, sensing what was coming began to chant.
 "Food fight! Food fight! Food fight!" You grinned. And then you smashed it right into Michael's face. He stumbled back, sputtering as the cold cake dripped down his cheeks, his nose, his chin. For a second, he just stood there blinking through the mess.
 Then he laughed. loud and bright, echoing through the venue as he wiped at his face only succeeding in smearing the cake further across his skin. His hands were a mess now, sticky and covered in icing, and he wiped them down his shirt without a second thought.
 "Happy birthday!" you called out, laughing. He was still laughing drunkly at that and still wiping at his face, when you stepped forward again. Before he could react, you cupped his sticky cheeks in your hands and pulled him into a kiss.
 The crowd erupted.
 It was sweet, messy, and tasting of ice cream and icing and him. His hands still sticky found your waist, pulling you closer despite the chaos. He let out a soft, muffled sound against your lips, something between surprise and contentment, and kissed you back like he'd forgotten anyone else was watching.
 When you finally pulled back, you clapped your hands together and smiled bright. "Happy birthday, baby." He stared at you, face covered in cake, eyes soft and dazed and so full of love it made his chest ache.
  He blinked slowly, like he was trying to process what just happened. "...Best birthday kiss ever." He tugged at his jeans again, adjusting himself nd hoping the cake was enough of a distraction.
 It wasn't. But he'd deal with that later. Michael didn't stay long after that. He was a mess of cake and icing, sticky from head to toe, his shirt ruined and his jeans smeared with white frosting. He thanked everyone he passed, shook hands, hugged a few fans who'd gotten close enough, and made sure to blow a kiss toward the crowd before he let you guide him toward the exit.
 "Thank you," he slurred, waving lazily at the people still chanting his name. "Thank you all. Love you. Love you guys."
 You smiled, your arm wrapped around his waist, steadying him as he stumbled toward the waiting limo. The door opened, and you helped him inside, sliding in after him as the door closed and muffled the noise of the party.
 The moment the door shut, he was on you. Not in a rush. His body turned toward yours, his hand finding your thigh almost immediately, his face buried in your neck.
 "You're so pretty." he mumbled against your skin. "So, so pretty. Did I tell you that already?" "A few times tonight, yeah." "I mean it." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder. "So pretty. Best wife ever. Best birthday ever."
 You laughed, your hands coming up to wipe at the cake still clinging to his cheek. "You're a mess, handsome." "A very happy mess." He caught your wrist, kissing your palm. "'S your fault. You started it."
 "You started it with the finger thing." You played the memory back in your head. He grinned, all teeth and dimples. "Worth it." You shook your head, still laughing and reached for a napkin from the mini bar to try and clean him up. He let you for about two seconds before his hand wrapped around your ankle.
 He tugged. You let out a surprised laugh as he pulled you across the seat, your back sliding against the leather until you were in front of him. He didn't stop there. He shifted his knees finding the seat cushion as he turned to face you properly, moving until he was on his knees in front of you.
 "Michael, what are you doinâ" He didn't answer. He just reached down and pulled your heels off, one by one dropping them onto the floor of the limo without a second glance.
  Then his hands wrapped around your foot, holding it like it was something precious. "Mikey." "Hold on." He pressed a kiss to the top of your foot, sloppy and warm. "Just..hold on."
 You giggled, trying to pull your foot back. "You look ridiculous. Let me clean you up." He shook his head, still holding your foot. "No." "Michael."
 "No." He looked up at you through his lashes, his eyes glassy and dark, and reached for your hand. He guided it down, pressing your palm flat against the obvious bulge in his jeans. "See what you did earlier, pretty? Hm? You gonna take accountability?"
 Your breath caught. "Michael, we're still in public." "So?" "The driver can hear us." He pouted, his lower lip jutting out in that drunk petulant way that made him look younger. "'S my birthday."
 "I know, baby." "You said I could have whatever I wanted." You raised an eyebrow. "I said you could have whatever cake you wanted." He blinked, processing then shook his head. "Same thing."
 "It's not the same thing." He frowned, his hand sliding up your thigh, slow and deliberate. "Would be a good birthday gift."
 "Michael." "I'm not asking for much." His fingers traced circles on your skin. "Just you. Just a little bit of you."
 You glanced out the tinted window. Police motorcycles trailed the limo. You could see the outline of the driver's head through the partition, focused on the road ahead.
 "There are police outside, Mikey." He followed your gaze, then looked back at you, his pout deepenin'. "They can't see through the windows." "That's not the point."
 "It could be." He tilted his head, his hand squeezing your thigh gently. "Please? For my birthday?" You stared at him. Drunk, messy, pouty, beautiful and very convincing and sighed because you were being convinced.
 Michael's whole face lit up when you agreed.
 His eyes went wide his lips spread into a grin, and he let out a little giggle. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a mess, and there was still a smear of icing on his chin that he hadn't bothered to wipe off.
 "Yeah?" "Yeah, donât make me take it back." He didn't waste a second. His hands found your ankle, tugging you forward until you were in front of him fully. You could feel the cake beneath you, cold and sticky against your thighs through your outfit, but he didn't seem to care. He just pulled you closer, his face dropping to press a kiss against the top of your foot.
 "Pretty," he murmured against your skin. His lips dragged down slowly from your ankle up to your knee, leaving a trail of warm, wet kisses. He paused at your shin, turning his head to press his cheek against your leg, looking up at you with those glassy eyes. "Look at these nails, mama. French tipped? On your toes? 'S so sexy."
 You laughed, trying to pull your foot back. "You're crazy." "Mhm." He nodded, not bothering to deny it. "Mâ crazy for you."
 He held your foot in both hands now, his thumbs tracing slow circles over your arch. He brought your toes to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the tips, then another ,then another, working his way across each one like he was memorizing them. His eyes fluttered shut a little hum escaping his throat.
 "Been thinkin' 'bout these all night," he admitted, his voice low and slurred. "When you had 'em out in them open-toed heels. Couldn't concentrate on nothin' else."
 You felt your face warm. "You were lookin' at my feet during your own party?" "Was lookin' at all of you." He pressed another kiss to your ankle, then your calf. "'S not my fault you're beautiful everywhere."
 He wrapped his hand around your waist and pulled you flush against him, your thighs pressing against his hips. His hands settled on your waist, fingers digging into the fabric of your outfit as another giggle fell from his lips.
 "'M gonna be quiet," he promised, nodding seriously. "Real quiet. Promise." He said it with such intensity that you almost believed him. He was lying. The second your lips met his, he let out a moan that was definitely not quiet.
  It rumbled from his chest deep and needy, vibrating against your mouth. His tongue slid against yours immediately, messy and warm and tasting faintly of the drink he'd been drinking earlier. His hands roamed your back, your waist, your thighs, pulling you impossibly closer as if he couldn't get enough.
 You could feel him through his jeans, hard and heavy, pressed right against your core. You rolled your hips experimentally, and he whined into your mouth. "Yeah- fuckâ yeah, just like that Tinka.."
 His hands found the inside of your thigh, fingers trailing up slowly, searching. When he reached the damp fabric of your panties, he smiled against your lips.
 "Someone's excited," he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His fingers pressed lightly against the wet spot, rubbing slow circles through the fabric. "That for me, mama? All that juice f'me?"
 Your hips stuttered but you didn't stop moving against him. The friction of his belt against your panties sent little sparks through your core, and you rolled your hips harder chasing the sensation.
 "Keep goin'," he breathed, his head falling back against the seat. His eyes fluttered open, looking up at you through heavy lids. "Don't stop. 'S my birthday, 'n I want you to ride me."
 "Your outfit's getting ruined." You noted, the outfit was worth quite a lot. It was quite literally sparkling. He let out a breathy laugh, his chest rising and falling. "Don't care. 'S worth it. Got money f'more outfits but I only got one of you."
 You kept moving grinding down against his belt and the bulge beneath it. His hand slid down to palm your ass, squeezing once before patting it gently. "That's it. Use me, mama. 'S your fault f'being so pretty."
 He reached up, his hand sliding behind your neck and guiding your lips back to his, swallowing the moan that escaped you as he bit down gently on your bottom lip. You ground down harder, chasing that friction, and he groaned into your mouth.
 "'M not gonna last long," he warned, his voice breaking. "You feel too good." "Then don't hold back." you whispered against his lips.
 His hips bucked up to meet yours, and you both moaned. Michael pulled you closer as if he wanted to consume you all at once.Â
 He lifted his head, gazing up at you with those lidded eyes. A smile spread across his lips, slow and drunk and full of love. "'S my best birthday yet."
 Michael was close. You could feel it in the way his hips stuttered, in the way his breath came in shorter, hotter pants against your mouth.
 "So close, tinka," he whimpered, his forehead pressing against yours. His hands were griping your hips, fingers diggin' into your outfit like he was trying to hold on. "Not gonna last with 'y on my lap. Itâs too good."
 You hummed against his lips, slowing your movements just slightly. He whined in protest, his hips chasin' yours. "Don't stop! Please â"
 You stopped anyway. He blinked, his glassy eyes focusing on your face with slow, confused realization.
  His bottom lip jutted out, pushin' forward in a pout that made him look like a hurt deer. "That was mean," he mumbled, his voice slurred and wounded. "Why'd you stop? 'M your husband. Itâs my birthday. You're bein' mean."
 You smiled, running a hand through his messy hair. "I'm bein' mean?" "Yes." He nodded emphatically, his pout deepening. "Very mean. Meanest wife ever."
 You leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Stay right there." Before he could protest again, you slipped off his lap and sank to your knees on the floor of the limo. The carpet was soft beneath you.Â
 He looked down at you, his brows furrowed for a second before you reached for the zipper of his pants. He got it immediately. His legs fell open, manspreading to make room for you between his thighs.
  He watched with heavy-lidded eyes as you pulled his cock out, already hard and leaking, the tip slick with precum. He let out a shuddering breath as your fingers wrapped around him. "Manicured nails." he breathed, watching your french tips wrap around his length. "Look so pretty wrapped 'round me. 'S not fair."
 You smiled up at him, then opened your mouth and took him in. His head fell back against the seat, a loud moan tearing from his throat. His hand flew to your hair, tugging slightly. "Fuckâ TinkaâŠ"
 He was already close, his hips twitching as you moved your head, taking him deeper. His breath came in ragged pants, his chest heaving, his grip tightened in your hair.
 "Please," he whimpered. "Pleaseâ m'closeâ'm gonnaââ You pulled off just enough to look up at him, your lips still brushing his tip, your hand still stroking him slowly. "Then let go," you said softly. "Don't hold back, handsome. You've been so good all night."
 His eyes fluttered, his lip catching between his teeth. "Let me see you fall apart, pretty boy." That did it. He came with a broken moan, his hips bucking forward as he spilled into your mouth.
  His hand tightened in your hair, his body shuddering his breath came in short, uneven gasps. He was whispering your name over and over like a prayer, half-coherent and completely gone.
 When he finally stilled he looked down at you with dazed, watery eyes. A lazy, satisfied grin spread across his face. "...Love you," he mumbled. "Mean it. Even if you're mean."
 You laughed softly, wiping the corner of your mouth as you climbed back up to sit beside him. He immediately slumped against you, his head finding your shoulder. "Best birthday ever," he murmured. You pressed a kiss to his hair. "Happy birthday."
 Michael was quiet for a moment after he came down.
 Still slumped against your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck, his hand lazily tracing patterns on your thigh. You thought he'd fallen asleep, his breathing evening out.Â
 But then he shifted. Lifted his head. Blinked at you slowly those dark eyes glassy but focused, like he was forcing himself to stay present. "You didn't come."
 You opened your mouth to brush it off to tell him it was fine, that you were okay, but he was already shaking his head, his brow furrowing with genuine concern.
 "No. I felt it. You were close when IâŠ" He gestured vaguely downward, a loose wave of his hand. "Then you stopped. That's not fair to you."
 "It's okay, baby. We're almost at the hotel." It was fine, honestly seeing him come was enough for you. He pouted but he nodded. "Fine. But I'm not forgetting. Soon as we get inside, I'm takin' care of you. Promise."
 You smiled, running your fingers through his sweaty hair. "I know you will." He hummed, content, and pressed a kiss to your collarbone before settling back against your shoulder. His hand never stopped moving, tracing lazy circles on your thigh his thumb occasionally dipping closer to where you needed him just to tease.
 "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he murmured against your skin. "Gonna make you forget your own name." "You're very confident for someone who can barely stand."
 He giggled, a sleepy drunken sound. "Don't need to stand. Got a tongue. Got fingers. Got you."
 The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence, Michael's head resting on your shoulder, his hand absently rubbing your thigh. Every few seconds he'd press a kiss to your collarbone, mumbling little nothings against your skin. "Pretty." "Love you." "Best wife." "Gonna marry you again tomorrow."
 When the limo finally pulled up to the hotel, Michael stumbled out with your help, his feet unsteady on the pavement, his hand gripping yours like a lifeline.
  The driver had already circled around to open the door, and Michael turned to him with a look of genuine apology, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry," he said, his voice sincere and slurred. "For the mess. For everything. I don't usually I promise! The noises. All of it. I'm real sorry."
 The driver laughed, waving a hand. "Don't worry about it, Mr. Jackson. Happens more than you'd think." Michael blinked, his head tilting like a confused puppy. "Really?" "No, not really." The driver grinned wide, his eyes crinkling. "But happy birthday Mr Jackson."
 Michael laughed loudly, leaning heavily into your side as you guided him toward the entrance. "I like him. He's funny. Tip him extra." "I will, baby." "Like a lot extra. Double. Triple maybe."
 "Whatever you want." He pressed a kiss to your cheek, messy and warm. "You're the best."
 The hotel lobby was mostly empty at this hour, just a few staff members behind the counter who nodded respectfully as you passed. A security guard near the elevator gave a small wave, which Michael returned with a lazy, two finger salute. You kept him moving, your arm wrapped around his waist, his hand gripping yours as you guided him toward the elevator.
 The moment the doors slid shut, he was on you again. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him, his face burying in your neck. He breathed in deep, a content hum vibrating against your skin.
 "Almost there," he mumbled against your pulse. "Then I get to take care of you. Properly." "You're very determined about this." He hummed again, pressing a kiss to your pulse point. "Determined husband. That's me. Cause I love you."
 "And very handsome." He pulled back just enough to look at you, a lazy grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You think so?" "I know so." He kissed you then, soft and warm, his tongue brushing against your lower lip before he pulled away. "Love you."
 "Love you too, Michael." The elevator dinged. You guided him down the hall, fumbling with the key card until the door clicked open.
 The suite was quiet when you finally stepped inside. Dark, save for the city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The curtains were drawn open. The bed loomed in the center of the room, massively covered in pillows you knew you'd be shoving off the floor within minutes.
 The door clicked shut behind you, and Michael turned to you immediately, his hands finding your waist. You expected him to stumble toward the bed, to collapse and sleep off the rest of his buzz.Â
 Instead, he stood there, looking at you with those dark, glassy eyes, his chest rising and falling. "I didnât forget." he said, his voice softer now, his earlier bravado fading into something gentler. "In the car. You didn't come at all. Told you I wouldn't forget"
 You shook your head. "It's okay, really. Tonight was about you Michael I told you. "
 "It's not okay." His hands tightened on your waist, guiding you backward toward the bed. "I'm gonna take care of it. Right now. That's what husbands do. That's what I want to do."
 You let him guide you until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He pushed gently, and you sat. Then laid back, your elbows propping you up as you looked up at him. He stood over you for a moment, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.
 "Stay right there," he murmured, his voice low.
 He reached for the hem of your dress, bunching it up slowly, carefully, his fingers brushing against your skin with every inch he revealed until the dress was gathered around your hips, baring you to him completely.
  His breath caught when he saw the damp spot on your panties, the fabric dark and clinging to you evidence of how worked up you'd been all night. "Look at you," he breathed, his voice reverent. "So pretty down here, mama. You've been sittin' in this all night, haven't you? All wet for me, huh?"
 Your face heated up. "Michael."
 "Don't be so shy Tink." His thumbs traced slow circles on your inner thighs. "I'm your husband. I got every right to see what's mine. And this," he pressed a kiss to the damp fabric, "this is mine."
 He dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He shifted, getting comfortable settling in like he planned to be there for a while.
 "I'm gonna take my time with you," he murmured. "Gonna taste every inch of you 'til you're beggin' me to stop."
 He pressed his mouth to the wet spot on your panties, hot and open, his tongue flat against the fabric. A low moan rumbled from his chest, vibrating against you, and you gasped at the sensation.
 "Mmm..â" He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips slick. "Taste you through the fabric, mama. It's still so good. Sweet and wet. Could drink you up like this all night and die happy." He pressed another damp kiss to your panties.
 But he didn't pull them off yet. Instead, he lifted your foot, bringing it to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the top of your arch, soft and slow. Then another on your ankle. Then he opened his mouth, dragging his tongue lazily along the side of your foot, leaving a trail of warm spit in its wake. "Mikey â"
 "'S pretty," he mumbled against your skin, his voice muffled. "Every part of you is pretty." He pressed wet, sloppy kisses to your toes, his mouth open and warm, drool slicking your skin as he went. He sucked gently on your big toe before pulling off with a soft pop, his chin glistening.
 "Taste good everywhere," he murmured, almost to himself. "Even your feet taste like you." He set your foot down gently and lifted the other, repeating the same ritual kisses, licks, open-mouthed drags of his tongue, leaving you shiny and wet and completely his.
By the time he set that foot down, you were a little breathless, your heart pounding.
 He looked up at you through his lashes, his lips swollen and slick. "Now." he said, his voice rough. "Lemme see what's underneath."
 His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down slowly, watching as they peeled away from your slick skin. He dragged them down your thighs, past your knees, over your ankles, and tossed them somewhere behind him without looking. His eyes were fixed on you, dark and hungry.
 "There she is," he breathed. "There's my pretty girl. All bare for me. You're so beautiful like this, you know that? All spread out, waitin' for me."
 He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. Soft. Warm. Then another, higher. He worked his way up inch by inch, kissing and licking at your skin, leaving a trail of warmth wherever his mouth touched. When he reached the apex of your thighs he paused, his breath hot against your core, making you jump.
 "You good?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. "Michael, just kiss me already." He laughed softly, the vibration tickling your skin. "So impatient. I like that about you."
 Then he pressed his lips against you, firmly. He started slow. Gentle. His tongue dragged up through your folds in one long, languid stroke, from your entrance to your clit tasting you like he had all the time in the world. A deep moan rumbled from his chest, his eyes fluttering shut.
 "Fuck," he breathed against you. "Taste better than I remembered. All mine." He had you pulled right to the edge, knees slung over his shoulders, your body pressed to his mouth. It was sloppy and drunk and he groaned with every movement of his jaw.Â
 He was using his whole mouth, not just his tongue sucking, kissing, licking like you were a meal he'd been starving for.
 His lips pressed against you as he spoke, his words muffled but clear enough. "Could stay here forever. Just live right here between your thighs. You'd let me, wouldn't you, mama?"
 A low, rumbly growl tore from his throat. He doubled down on his efforts, pulled your thighs forward until his nose was flush against your clit, his tongue fucking into you with rapid, shallow strokes, absolutely sloppy with it. His grip on your hips left marks.
 "You taste," he said between kisses and licks and swirls, "so fucking good, mama. Like you were made for my mouth. Made for me."
 His tongue flicked over your clit again and again. You could feel the vibration of his groans, the way his nose pushed into you, and the way your thighs started to shake and squeeze around his ears.
 "Yeah, that's it. That's my girl. Squeeze my head with those pretty thighs. Love it when you do that."
 His lips closed around your clit and he sucked, gentle at first, then with more pressure, his tongue flicking against it while he did. Your hips bucked against his mouth, and he moaned in approval.
 "That's it, baby. Rut against my face. Use me. I'm yours."
 You came undone, tipped over the edge with the next roll of his tongue, but he didn't stop. He coaxed you through it, gentling his touch, his tongue slowing to soft, soothing laps as you shuddered above him. He pulled back slowly, his mouth glistening, his lips swollen. He pressed a kiss to your thigh with a lazy smile, his chin slick.
 "One more," he said, his voice rough, like he'd gargled gravel.
 "MichaelâŠ" "One more." He dove back in without waiting for your answer, his tongue plunging into your core.
 This time he wanted it messy. Wanted to taste you again, now that he had a fresh coat of you on his tongue. He sucked hard on your clit, drawing a broken moan from your throat as he drove his tongue in and out, into the weeping place between your thighs.
 His mouth was on you again, warm and insistent, his tongue dragging through your folds with that same sloppy, drunken rhythm. You were still sensitive from before, every pass of his lips sending sparks through your oversensitive nerves, and when he circled your clit with the flat of his tongue, you gasped your hips sliding up the mattress instinctively.
 Too much. It was too much.
 But his hand came down on your ass with a sharp slap, the sting blooming across your skin, and he pulled you back down against his mouth without missing a beat.
 "Unh uh," he murmured against you, his voice rough and muffled. "Where you goin'?"
 "Mikeyâ 's too muchâ"
 "Don't care." His hand gripped your hip, holding you in place, his tongue diving back in. "Stop runnin'. Take it, acting like you canât."
 He pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, his chin slick, his eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you from between your thighs.
 "You can take it. You're my good girl, right? My good wife?" You nodded weakly, your fingers tangling in the sheets. "Then lay there and let me love you."
 He moaned against you, his tongue pressing deep inside, then sliding up. "Cum for me again, pretty mama. Let me taste it. Let me drink every drop." His tongue kept working you, keeping you right there, close, until you shattered again. He swallowed every bit of it, moaning like it was the best thing he'd ever tasted.
 The third time because yes there was a third time, he changed the angle.
 He lifted your hips onto his shoulders, your entire body pulled flush to his mouth. He wanted to taste every drop. Licking and drinking as you fluttered against him greedy. He didn't relent until he'd took a third orgasm from you, your trembling thighs locked around his head.
 "You're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured against you, his voice wrecked. "Best thing I've ever seen. Best thing I've ever tasted. I'm never gonna get enough of you."
 You fell back onto the mattress, breathless and shaking, your body humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.
 When he finally pulled away, he rested his cheek on your thigh, still on his knees, blinking up at you with those big, drunk, adoring eyes. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smiled, his lips swollen and slick.
 "You okay?" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. You nodded weakly, reaching down to brush your fingers through his hair. "Yeah. I'm more than okay." He grinned, proud of himself, and pressed a kiss to your knee.
 "Good." He pushed himself up. "Good. Mission accomplished." "It was your birthday, remember?"
 He gestured down at the mess he'd made of you. "Best gift I could've asked for." You were too spent to even consider a witty comeback.
 He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, his lips pressing soft, lazy kisses to your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth. That was his second language with you slow, featherlight touches after everything.
 "Thank you." he said, quiet but sincere. "For tonight. For everything. I don't say it enough but you're my whole world, mama." You pressed a kiss to his chest, right over his heart. "Happy birthday, Mikey."
 He smiled, sleepy and satisfied. "Best one yet. Wonder how yâgonna top this next yearâŠmaybe youâll finally let me get you pregnant?" You put a singular hand up to his lips, shutting him up. âBoy. Donât ruin the moment. Go to sleep.â
Â
Could you do a Jaafar x shy reader thatâs like the praise one shot you did with Jermajesty but itâs Jaafar learning that she has a praise kink and teases her abt it until they finally do something??
Also I love your work sm đ
Teasing
Jaafar x shy! Reader
Warnings: Fingering, dirty talk.
Summary: Jaafar learns his shy girl loves to be praised.
Jaafar always paid close attention to how you reacted around him, but it took him a few weeks to fully decode your shy habits. He noticed how your breath caught whenever he murmured an approval near your ear, and how your face flushed bright red when he thanked you for small favors.
The confirmation came on a quiet afternoon while you were helping him organize some lyric sheets. You handed him a stack, your fingers brushing against his, and your eyes immediately darted to the floor.
"Perfect. You did such a good job keeping these in order," Jaafar said, his voice dropping into a smooth, low register. "Such a sweet, helpful girl."
You whimpered. It was barely audible, a tiny, helpless catch in your throat, but his ears picked it up instantly. He watched a deep crimson bloom across your cheeks as you suddenly became very interested in your shoes.
A slow, knowing smile spread across Jaafarâs face. He leaned back against the desk, crossing his arms.
"Oh," he purred, his eyes locked onto your burning face. "Is that what it? Look at me, sweetheart."
You slowly lifted your gaze, biting your lip."Do you like being told you're good?" he teased softly, tilting his head. "Does it make your heart race when I praise you?"
"Jaafar, please," you whispered, looking around the room as if the walls could see your secret.
"Please what?" He stepped closer, crowding your space just enough to make you feel his warmth. "I haven't even said anything yet. You're so sensitive. Just a few nice words and you're completely falling apart for me."
Over the next few days, the teasing became absolute torture. Jaafar turned everyday interactions into a minefield of sweet, torturous affirmations. He knew exactly what he was doing, and he loved every second of watching your quiet, shy exterior melt under his words.
If you sat next to him on the couch and timidly rested your head on his shoulder, he would stroke your hair and whisper, "Look how well you behave for me. So quiet. So obedient."
Every single time, you would shiver, your hands trembling as you tried to hold back your reactions. He would just chuckle, kiss the top of your head, and leave you burning, moving on with his day as if he hadn't just completely unstrung you.
The breaking point arrived on a rainy Friday evening. You were sitting on his lap on the armchair, your face buried in the crook of his neck to hide away from the world. Jaafarâs large hand was resting on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles through your shirt.
"You've been so patient today," Jaafar murmured, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your neck. "I know how much I've been teasing you. But you took it all so beautifully. You didn't complain once."
A soft whine escaped your lips, and you gripped his shoulders tightly. "Jaafar, I can't⊠you're doing it again."
"I am," he admitted, his voice a gravelly, intimate rumble that vibrated right against your chest. He hooked two fingers under your chin, gently forcing you to look up at him. Your eyes were glossy, and your lips were parted in silent plead. "Look at you. You're practically begging me with those eyes. Tell me what you want, sweet girl."
"I want you to stop teasing me," you whispered, your voice shaking. "Please." Jaafarâs expression shifted, the playful glint in his eyes turning into something much darker, heavier, and completely consuming. He slid his hand from your chin to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair to hold you steady.
"Alright. No more teasing," he promised, his breath hot against your lips. "You've earned it. You've been the absolute best girl for me all week, and you deserve to be rewarded."
When his mouth finally crashed down onto yours, it wasn't the gentle, teasing kisses of the past few days. It was deep, demanding, and possessive. You let out a muffled gasp into the kiss, completely overwhelmed as his hands gripped your hips, pulling your body flush against his.
He pulled back just a fraction, his expression softening as he looked down at your dazed, flushed face. The playfulness was gone, replaced by a deep, sincere affection that made your heart skip a beat.
His hands slowly pulled down the sweatpants you were wearing and pulled your panties to the side. He inserted two fingers in your wet pussy curing them making you moan. Jaafar bite his lip the way your pussy was warm and wet.
"That's it my baby you feel good mhm?" You nodded "y-yes ja I feel so good fuuck" He groaned. "Yeah? I know you are my shy girl, you're wetting my fingers so much." He said going at a faster pace which made you ride his fingers for more friction.
"Fuuuck Ja" You were now an uncontrollable mess. The way you said his name and made sounds for him weren't so shy. "That's my good girl grinding on my fingers, you making such pretty noises mama." He said hovering your lips. You whimpered and leaned in for a deep kiss moaning against his mouth.
"You're so beautiful like this baby I feel you getting tight on my fingers you getting close pretty girl?" His voice was deeper than before. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. You nodded desperately.
"Shhit Ja y-yes I'm close" He smirked and looked at his fingers going in and out of you. "Go ahead mama cum on your man's fingers" That praise made you cum hard on his finger and he gave no time to think before his lips were on yours again.
can you possibly maybe perchance do jaafar x actress!reader? like, reader and jaafar both stared in michael and behind the scenes footage comes out and fans make clips on it. maybe you could also do interviews with them and the rest of the cast to just show their dynamic.
Just Friends?
Jaafar x actress! reader
Summary: You and Jaafar both have a role in the movie 'Michael'. The behind the scenes footage comes out and fans are loving the clips of you and Jaafar.
By the time 'Michael' wrapped principal filming, the cast didnât feel like a typical ensemble anymore they felt like a unit people online were already obsessing over. Especially you and Jaafar.
You were an actress cast in a key supporting role in 'Michael', and somewhere between rehearsals, long shoot days, and shared silence between takes. Then the behind-the-scenes footage dropped.
You were on set during a break in blocking. Jaafar was practicing a sequence with the choreographer when he missed a step and laughed under his breath. You walked over and fixed his sleeve.
âYour timing is off by half a beat,â you said casually. He blinked. âDid you just critique me?â âYes.â âYouâre not even in this scene right now.â
âYet Iâm correct.â He stared at you for a second. Instead of arguing, he just nodded. âOkay fix it then.â The choreographer paused. âWait sheâs right, actually.â Jaafar looked offended before smiling. The internet exploded.
The studio released a promotional interview with the cast, including you, Jaafar, Colman, Miles, and Nia. The interviewer smiled. âThereâs been a lot of talk online about the cast dynamic. Especially between Jaafar and you.â You groaned. Jaafar laughed beside you. âOh no.â
Colman leaned forward, delighted. âIâve been waiting for this question.â Miles crossed his arms. âYeah, letâs talk about it.â You pointed at him. âDonât encourage them.â Nia smiled softly. âItâs actually really sweet to watch.â The interviewer asked, âHow would you describe your relationship on set?â
Jaafar answered first. âShe keeps me grounded.â You shot him a look. âThatâs a polite way of saying I roast you constantly.â
âItâs both,â he admitted. Colman nodded. âShe absolutely keeps him in check. Iâve seen it. Heâll walk in all confident, and then she'll look once then he gets distracted. âI do not get distracted ,â Jaafar protested.
Miles raised an eyebrow. âYou do though.â The room laughed. You sighed. âHeâs tolerable.â Jaafar turned to you. âTolerable?â
âOn good days.â âWow.â Nia leaned in slightly. âYou two trust each other thatâs obvious.â The joking softened into something more grounded. Jaafar nodded quietly. âYeah. I trust her.â You didnât add anything.
A night shoot had been delayed due to artificial rain rig issues. Between resets, you were wrapped in a blanket, sitting on a folding chair. Jaafar came over holding two bottles of water. He handed you one without looking. âYou good?â he asked. You nodded. âJust cold.â
He took off his jacket and placed it over your shoulders. You blinked. âI didnât ask for that.â âI know.â A pause. You quietly said, âThanks.â He just shrugged. âDonât mention it.â The clip ended there. The internet lost its mind again.
During a press tour, the cast sat in a long row of chairs under bright studio lights. Questions coming fast. One journalist asked, âThe fandom has really picked up on the bond between you two. Do you see it too?â Jaafar exhaled like he already knew this was coming.
âI think people see us working together a lot and assume things,â he said carefully. Then he glanced at you. âAlso we do have a strong bond.â You tilted your head looking at him "I agree we do have a strong bond"
Colman leaned into his mic. âTheyâre afraid of the internet.â Miles nodded. âI would be too.â Nia smiled. âItâs genuine thatâs why people respond to it.â
The journalist pushed gently, âSo how would you define it?â You spoke first this time. âHeâs my scene partner,â you said. âAlso my friend thatâs it.â Jaafar looked at you then added. âYeah. Thatâs it.â A beat.
Then Colman muttered, âWe all know that ain't true.â Everyone laughed again.
The internet had already decided something simpler that they were locked in with each other and the clips proved it.
Title: âSpoiling My Girl⊠Because She Deserves It đ€ (LIVE)â
The stream started with Agent00 in the passenger seat of a G-Wagon, holding his phone toward himself with a grin.
The camera panned over to Y/N, sitting in the driverâs seat with sunglasses on, a glossy nude lip, and that flirty little smirk that had the chat blowing up.
âYouâre really letting me go wild?â she asked, teasing.âYou deserve it,â he said seriously. âI donât say it enough, but you hold me down. And I donât care if we blow a bag today â youâre worth way more than anything in the store.â
Chat:
âAGENT BEING A SIMP I LOVE IT đđâ
âthis is the energy we all need.â
âmarry her bro frâ
Stop 1 mall:
They hit up all the hot spots: Zara, Sephora, Aritzia. Y/N walked around with Agentâs black card in her back pocket while he carried her bags like a true king.
At one point in Sephora, she turned to him with two lip glosses. âWhich one should I get?âHe didnât even look at the shades. âBoth.â
âAgentââ
âBoth, N/N. Come on now.â
Chat:
âhe said donât play with him đâ
âultimate green flag behavior.â
Stop 2: Designer Store
She walked in hesitantly, fingers brushing the price tags on heels and purses.âYou sure?â she whispered, feeling the weight of the price tags.
He leaned close, lips brushing her ear. âDonât ever second guess your worth, baby. Grab what you like.âShe ended up picking a soft blush-colored bag and Agent paid without blinking.Then he kissed her forehead on the way out, whispering, âYou look so good with it. Might have to take it off later, though.â
She turned bright red while chat exploded.
Chat:
âAGENT đł this a FAMILY stream broâ
âyâall better not cut that đâ
Stop 3: random toy store.
They were walking past a quirky toy store when Y/N paused.
Inside the window, sat a giant Hello Kitty plush â almost as big as her, bubblegum pink with a gold bow and sparkly eyes.Agent followed her gaze. âYou want it?â
She blushed. âNo, itâs $300. Thatâs ridiculous.âHe was already walking inside.
âAgent, no!â she laughed, chasing after him.
âBabe, you let me take up half your closet, put up with my late-night streams, and STILL love me? You get the Hello Kitty.â
She tried to stop him. âThatâs not the point, I donât need itââHe turned, gently cupping her face. âI know. But you deserve things just because. Not âcause you earned it. Just because I love you.âHer eyes went wide, lips parting.âYou love me?â she said softly. He smiled â all heart.
âOf course I do.â
Then he kissed her right there, in the middle of the store, with the giant Hello Kitty plush between them.
Chat:
âIâM SOBBINGGGG đđđđâ
âtheyâre like a romcom but realâ
âHELLO KITTY GOT THE LOVE CONFESSION YâALL.â
Back home now
They collapsed onto the couch, surrounded by shopping bags and leftover snacks. Y/N laid her head on his chest, holding the Hello Kitty like a toddler. He played with her hair, letting chat roll for a few more minutes.
âThank yâall for watching,â he said, voice a little softer than usual. âSometimes, you gotta step back from the grind and just show your person they matter. And this girl right hereâŠâ
He looked down at her. She was already looking up at him.
ââŠsheâs my peace.â
She smiled, kissed his chin, and whispered, âYouâre mine, too.â
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youâd just gotten out of the shower, skin warm and soft, when the quiet ache of missing jude got the best of you. heâd been away for days and you wanted to give him something sweet to come home to. you let the towel drop just enough, posed in the gentle glow of your bedroom lamp, and took a few intimate photosânothing too wild, just you looking soft and a little shy for the camera. after picking the nicest ones, you typed a quick loving message and sent them off without checking the name at the top.
you sat on the edge of your bed, smiling to as you rubbed lotion into your legs, imagining his reaction.
a few minutes passed in silence. you frowned and reached for your phone again.
the second you opened the chat, your heart sank straight to your stomach.
your cheeks burned instantly. before you could even think, his reply popped up.
jaafar: hey⊠i think you sent these to the wrong person
you froze for a second, then started typing fast, embarrassment flooding through you.
you: oh my god jaafar iâm so sorry those were meant for jude i didnât realize i sent them to you đ
you: iâm really sorry again
jaafar: itâs okay, donât worry about it. accidents happen. youâre fine, i promise.
his words felt gentle, almost reassuring, and something in your chest eased just a little. still flustered, you sent back a soft pleading eyes emoji and a simple âthank youâ before locking your phone. you didnât say anything else. you didnât mention the photos at all after that. you just hoped the moment would disappear quietly.
but in his quiet apartment across town, jaafar couldnât let it disappear.
your best friend was out with friends for the night, leaving the place peaceful and empty around him. he sat on the couch, phone still in his hand, staring at the photos youâd accidentally sent. the soft light kissing your skin, the gentle curves of your body, that shy look in your eyesâit all hit him harder than he expected.
he saved the photos to a hidden folder without thinking twice.
leaning back, he pushed his sweatpants down and freed his aching cock, already hard just from looking at you. he wrapped his hand around the thick length and started stroking slowly, long smooth movements that made his breath catch.
short, breathy moans filled the quiet roomââahh⊠fuckââas his hips started rocking up to meet each stroke. the guilt twisted with the heat, making everything feel sharper, more intense. he kept going, lost in the fantasy of you, until the pressure became too much.
with one deep, guttural moan he came hard, thick pulses spilling over his fist while his body trembled through the waves.
even after his breathing slowed, he didnât close the photos. he just sat there for a while longer, heart still racing, knowing this was only the beginning of something he probably shouldnât want.
your phone kept buzzing.
jaafar sent photos
jaafar sent a short video
jaafar: :)
you didnât reply. you couldnât.
the words stuck in your throat, shame and something dangerously warmer fighting inside you.
he kept going, like he couldnât help himself.
more photos arrivedâhis strong hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking slowly. another short video followed, his fist moving with building urgency, abs tightening, soft ragged breaths audible. another :) emoji, quiet and simple, like he was just as lost as you were.
you were completely taken aback, heart racing with shock and crushing guilt.
you turned off the lights, slipped under the covers, and let the videos play on loop, the soft sounds of him filling your quiet room.
you rolled onto your stomach, desperate, and started grinding against your pillow. slow at first, then harder, hips rolling with needy little whimpers. soft, breathy moans escaped you as the friction builtââmmh⊠ahhâŠââyour body trembling with every movement. the guilt only made everything feel sharper, more intense.
it still wasnât enough, you flipped onto your back, legs spreading as your hand slid down.
your fingers found your soaked heat and pushed inside, stroking deep while your thumb circled your clit. your legs shook uncontrollably, a few more quiet moans slipping out despite how hard you tried to hold them back. the pleasure and shame twisted together until you couldnât hold back anymore.
with a trembling cry you came hard, body arching off the bed, walls pulsing around your fingers as waves of overwhelming sensation crashed through you. tears slipped down your cheeks while your legs continued to shake long after.
you lay there afterward, chest tight, staring at the ceiling as fresh guilt settled heavy over your heart. jaafarâs messages still waited on your phone, unanswered. you knew you should feel nothing but regret⊠but the pull between you both had already grown too strong to ignore.
quiet reader supporting Jaafar from the audience during a talk show interview and he points out where they are in the audience and they get nervous?? đ
Support
Jaafar x quiet! Reader
Summary: You are supporting Jaafar from the audience at a talk show and he points you out and makes you nervous.
Short đ¶âđ«ïž
The audience applauded as Jaafar answered another question with an easy smile. The host chuckled. "You always seem to have someone cheering you on."
Jaafar glanced toward the crowd, then smiled wider. "Actually I do." He lifted a hand and pointed. "There she is third row, trying very hard to hide." Every head turned.
Your eyes went wide, and you ducked behind the person beside you. The audience laughed softly. "Aww," the host said. "They're embarrassed!"
Jaafar laughed. "They're my quiet little cheerleader. Always supporting me, even if they'd rather stay invisible." You covered your face, shaking your head. "Oh no..."
"C'mon, sweetheart," Jaafar teased warmly. "I see you." The camera landed on you for a second. You gave an awkward little wave as your cheeks burned.
The crowd applauded. "See?" Jaafar said with a grin. "That's my favorite person right there."
You laughed nervously, mouthing, "You're so mean." He only winked before turning back to the interview, still smiling.
But itâs an early 80s southern town, and Michael and reader genuinely have to be quiet on the creek so they wonât get caught making each other cum.đANDDD theyâre both subs!
Summary: Now that you two are dating, fans find your Tiktok and make edits of both you.
Really shortđ¶âđ«ïž
A few days after you and Jermajesty started dating, you were curled up on the couch scrolling through your phone when your eyes widened. "Jer?" He looked over from the kitchen. "Yeah, pretty girl?"
"I think they found my tiktok." You showed him your phone. Jermajesty smililed. "Damn" He tapped one of the comments that led to a fan edit.
The video showed clips from your TikTok mixed with clips of Jermajesty smiling on stream.
The caption read:
"Bro finally got the girl.đ"
You covered your face. "Oh my gosh." Jermajesty laughed. "They're making edits of us." He kept scrolling. There where much more. You groaned hiding your face in his shoulder. "This is so embarrassing."
Jermajesty wrapped an arm around you, smiling. "I think it's cute, baby." You peeked up at him."You do?"
"I do." He kissed your forehead. "My pretty girl has fan edits now." You laughed. He grinned and showed you one last edit.You couldn't help but laugh. "They're never letting us live this down."
Jermajesty smiled before giving you a quick kiss."Nope." You grinned. "I don't think I'd want them to."
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With the release of Thriller, Michael invites you to his release party. Unfortunately, youâre met with two people with a sharp grasp on Michael. After a long night of frustration, Michael makes it up to you in a way heâs never done before.
IM BACKKKKKK did yall miss me? I miss yall đ I thought why not come back with my series cuz its been basically abandoned for like two weeks.
Contains: Smut & tooth rotting fluff, D*an* R*ss, J*seph too, michaels lowkey a masochist, reader is kind of toxic(???) but Mike loves it, i lowk did my big on w this chapter but i lowk didnt feel like writing the party scene so pretend its more detailed & that i thoroughly explained just how in the way di*na was at the party đđ. also contained a little bdsm (restraints on hands and mouth), face sitting, pillow grinding, you step on Michaels bulge at some point, small mommy kink, sub mike as usual! lowkey mean dom reader
WC - 3.1K
December 4th 1982
Tonight was the night of Michaels Thriller release party. You sported a business casual look, wearing a long black prada dress with a white blouse collar and white blouse cuffs.
You looked divine, and Michael knew it. Heâd been staring at you since youâd walked in. Your curves were accentuated by the tightness of your dress, your freshly pressed and curled hair flowed down your back, & your heels were six inches, making you taller than Michael himself.
Eventually, while you were speaking with Brooke Shields about your mutual interest in literature, Michael stepped in to pull you away with a quick excuse. You smiled as he whispered to you, âYou look beautiful tonight.â
He introduced you to his father, calling you his âfriend & colleague,â and to no surprise Joseph was not a fan of you.
Joseph looked you up and down and smacked his teeth, âMichael, don't you think youâre a bit too young to have friends this old?â He asked, pointedly.
Michael, who caught the shade but couldn't bring himself to fully address it just answered with a small laugh & a âage is just a number pops.â
After the displeasure of meeting Joseph, whoâd lived up to Michaelâs description of him, you then met his favorite person on earth. Diana Ross. His mentor, his mother and sister and lover, all in one. The meeting wasn't very fun either. Youâd only spoken two sentences to Diana & sheâd taken your words and essentially shit on them with backhanded compliments.
And it didn't get any better as the night progressed. You couldn't get so much as five minutes with Michael to yourself before she swooped in & stole him away.
âMichael let me introduce you to my friend!â
âMichael let me tell you about my amazing trip to Europe!â
âMichael come have a drink with meâ
âMichael, we should dance together, don't you think?â
Youâd thought you had the last 10 minutes of the party to yourself and Michael, being that Diana was out of sight, and Joseph had been long gone, until Diana strutted right back into the room and up to the bar where you and Michael were.
She hugged him tight and he hugged her tighter, âMichael! I just had to say goodbye one more time! Tonight was amazing and Iâll miss you dearly.â
Michael smiled, âNo thank you, Iâve had an amazing night because of you. Goodbye Diana Iâll miss you so much more.â
Diana, while looking dead at you, placed three kisses on Michael's cheek, before turning around andânot without flirtatiously waving at Michaelâmaking her final leave.
In Michaelâs star struck, Diana-induced haze, he didn't notice you make your quiet departure from the building.
At your hotel, you sipped champagne from a flute while watching a late night comedy show, long gone from Michaels party by now. You were unaware of the sorry man downstairs whoâd been attempting to get past your security and to you.
RingâŠRingâŠRingâŠ
You picked up the phone in confusion, not expecting any calls, âHello?â
âMaâam, there's a man downstairs whoâd like to see you, heâs been trying to get past us for an hour now.â
You sighed, knowing all too well who it was, âsend him up, thanks for giving him a hard time, Iâll raise your pay.â
Your head of security chuckled before you heard him signal to everyone it was okay to let Michael up.
ââââ
Herr Michael was, sitting at your couch with your heeled feet in his lap, head up, looking at you with the utmost regret.
âBaby Iâm sorry, seriously.â
You scoffed, âMichael I couldn't even get five minutes of your time tonight, sorry doesnât cut it.â
âIt was my release party baby, you know I'm a busy guy!â
âWell you invited me knowing I didn't know anyone there, and then left me all alone! Who the hell does that?! How do you invite someone somewhere they don't know anyone at, and then not stick by their side? That's basic human decency!â You stood up beginning to make your way over to the fridge, âThatâs what's wrong with young folks, y'all don't have no damn respect.â
Those words hit Michael in the chest. Was it really his youth that made him so obvious to your discomfort? If it is, he canât have you thinking that. He was young but he was worth you!
Michael leapt forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close, and buried his face in your lower back.
âPlease baby, Itâs not because I'm young I promise, Iâm a grown man! You know me and Diana just have a close relationship.â
You snapped around to him and snatched his jaw with your freshly manicured nails, âYou just âhave a close relationshipâ with her? Are you fucking her too Michael? Do you eat her pussy every time you see her? Come the fuck on, if you want that bitch go be with her and leave me the fuck alone!â Your anger superseded how scared you were for the possibility that Michael may take your suggestion and go be with her.
Michael put his head down in shame, âNo baby, youâve the only woman Iâve ever been with like that and the only woman I want to be with, I love you so much I swear, I wish you know how much I love you, words canât even describe it.â
You rolled your eyes, âIf you loved me so much we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place now would we?â
Michael didn't answer, he didn't even move. He was dead still, as if he was focused on something.
You scoffed, âMichael what the hell are you looking at, whatâs so damn important on the ground that you can't even respondââ You paused, noticing the bulge in his pants.
He mustâve realized you noticed it, because he started shaking, âIâI know I can only say so many words, soâŠyou should just punish me instead please.â
A smirk grew on your face, âPunish you? As if you deserve anything at all from me.â you spat at him, pressing your heel into his chest and kicking him onto the ground, not missing how his dick twitched in his pants.
He looked up at you, legs bent and spread, leaning on his elbows for support while he worshiped you with his eyes, âPlease mommy, Iâve been so bad today, need to be punished, please.â
You dug the tip of your heels into his bulge, the point poking his tip, âGo get on the bed, you have exactly 5 minutes.â
âYes maâam, he muttered before scurrying off to the bedroom and stripping himself.â
ââââ
And that's how Michael got himself here! A mixture between heaven and hell.
His hands were tied up against the headboard and his mouth was restrained. He was completely naked, dick standing tall and proud while he watched you come out of the shower and put your night dress on.
You noticed him staring at you, deciding to degrade him, âYouâre such a perv Michael, you canât keep your eyes off of me for a few seconds. I can't even change in peace. Where was all this energy at the release party huh?â
He shut his eyes and said something unintelligible from the cloth around his mouth, probably some sort of apology.
You strutted over to him and sat right on his lap, âI know what you want Michael.â
His eyes shot open and you chuckled, sliding down and grinding your wet folds on his hard on,
âYou want to be fucked, to cum inside me and feel just how good my tight pussy is dont you?â
He nodded frantically, bucking up at the feeling of your arousal coating his length.
You lightly slapped him, eliciting an arch in his back, âBut you don't deserve that now do you?â
He nodded again, and put his head back on the pillow.
The same pillow was swiftly taken from underneath his head and placed between you and him. Your crotches were now separated by the plush pillow beneath you.
âSo Iâm gonna make myself cum all over this pillow,â You began grinding down on the fabric, angling yourself so that your clit glided against the pillow perfectly, âAnd youâre gonna watch. Youâre not gonna whine, or beg, or move, youâre just gonna watch. Understood?â
Another nod.
While you pleasured yourself Michael watched intently, he felt a little bit of the pressure from your grinding through the pillow, which was making his inability to touch you a lot more bearable. You looked so beautiful, every contortion of your face when you were at the perfect angle was akin to the Mona Lisa. He deserved every second of this punishment, he was so neglectful to you tonight, and he never even realized it. Your frustration was both scary and arousing. The way you pushed him around and grabbed at his face was so hot to him, he needed that again.
You felt the cord in your core snap, and you came all over the pillow. Directly after, quite intentionally, Michael whined through his restraint.
You grabbed his face between your thumb and index finger, leaning down to be face to face with him, "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?â
He nodded, whining again.
A sharp sting met his chest, youâd slapped his nipple. Wordlessly, you grabbed it and twisted it a bit, making him whine again, this time from pleasure.
You sighed, âYou just canât keep that mouth shut can you?â
You untied his mouth restraint before crawling to his head and lifting your sweet heat over his mouth.
âGuess Iâll just have to fill it with something else.â you sank down on his mouth, his eager tongue lapping up every bit of cum that was left before focusing on circling your clit.
âDoing so good Mikey, keep putting that tongue to use honey.â
You leaned back on your arms for support and grinded against his tongue.
You looked back at his needy hard on that standing in the air untouched, begging for attention, and laughed.
âPoor boy, youâre little friend over there looks so lonely.â
He moaned from underneath you, stopping to quickly say, âPlease don't touch it miss, âneed to take my punishment till you're done.â
You smirked, âDamn right you do.â
ââââ
By now, youâd cum three more times, all of which were induced by Michael's hot mouth sucking all over your clit & tongue fucking you.
Youâre grinding on his tongue, ready for your fifth orgasm to overwhelm you, and decided to be nice to Michael.
âMike, after this one Iâll end your punishment.â
His dick twitched, and he humped in the air at the thought of his punishment ending and being able to touch you.
He feverishly switched between licking up and down your sex, fucking your wet hole with his tongue, and sucking up your puffy clit with mouth, putting all the things heâd learned from you to good use.
Your release crashed into you like a ship. You ground against his tongue, milking your high.
You crawled off of him, legs shaky from the overstimulation, and sat on his stomach.
All he could see was your back and your plump ass on him, but he could feel everything, like the way your hand started stroking him from base to tip, using his precumâwhich had been leaking from his aching, pathetic tip for fifteen minutes straightâas lubricant.
Every twist of your hand sent shivers down his spine. This may be the best sexual experience heâd had in his life. You fucked your hand on his tip, cupping it and circling your hand around it, making him buck up and moan.
âMommy please, please can I cum, need it so bad.â
You felt his back arch underneath you, and his legs began quivering.
âWell honey, since you took your punishment so good,â you circled your hand around his tip again, âAnd you were such a good boy for me, I guess youâve earned the right to cum.â
In seconds hot cum spurted from his tip, leaking all over your hands and onto the covers. His hips bucked up, fucking your hand frantically while his release sputtered everywhere, mouth left agape from the pleasure of finally feeling relief.
âThank you mommy, thank you thank youâah!â
He moaned, feeling you slap his dick a few times, which made him launch a few more spurts of cum from his length, before he finally finished cumming and began to calm down.
You grabbed a towel and wiped him and yourself down, then untied his restraints.
His strong arms immediately engulfed you in them, simultaneously Michael buried himself in your chest, letting your plush breasts ground him into reality.
âThank you for not leaving me,â he muttered.
Your brows furrowed, âWhy would I leave you Mikey?â
His eyes fluttered upward, locking with your own, âWellâŠI don't know, I just thought that maybe my ignorance tonight was gonna push you away from me.â
You propped your head up on your head and used your other hand to tangle itself in Michaels hair, âMikey, I wasn't gonna leave you because of that, I was just mad. Iâd never leave you baby.â
He looked at you with hope in his eyes, âWell, why won't you leave your husband for me? Iâm richer than him now, I know I look better than him, I make you happier, and I actually love you. I could give you a much better life than he ever could.â
You sighed, knowing all too well his naivety was showing, âMarriage and divorce is much more complex than happiness and satisfaction within a relationship. My husband doesnât love me and for sure is cheating on me, but I have no evidence of it. I am absolutely dissatisfied with our marriage, but I can't divorce him because the government doesn't consider those to be real reasons to divorce, especially not in New York. Furthermore, honey, our marriage contract states that if one party is unfaithful in the marriage then they will receive nothing in the divorce. For example, my house. I like my house, of course it's not my dream house, but I like it and Iâd like to keep it in the event of a divorce.â
Michael nodded in understanding and snuggled up to your neck, âI wish it was easier than that. I wish I could just pick you up off your feet and carry you away from that terrible man. Itâs not fair.â
You chuckled, moving your hand to rub his back, âIt sure isn't, but itâs alright, heâs already been slipping up with letting me hear his whores over the phone, eventually heâll get sloppy enough for me to catch him in the act and I'll be able to divorce him with no worries.â
âWhy cheat on him too if it could backfire on you?â Michael asked.
At that, you lifted Michael's head up with your hand, âMichael, you make me happy. You make this dreary life a lot more bearable, more than you could ever imagine. I'm not sloppy like James is. I cover my tracks, and everyone who works for me is entirely under my thumb. Youâre worth all the trouble it takes to keep us a secret. Youâre worth everything Mikey.â
Michael interlocked his legs with yours, âWell then Iâll keep being worthy of you. I'm gonna do everything to keep you happy and healthy and all pretty like you are right now,â You cracked a sheepish smile at his words, which Michael immediately had to point out, âIâll keep that sweet smile on your face too.â
You giggled, Michael always had this effect you no one else had. The effect that made you girly and flustered, like you were still in high school or something.
âMikey.â
âYes?â
âYou know Iâm your girl right.â
âOf course I do, mama.â
Your smile grew wider, âI just wanted to reiterate it! James is nothing but a husband, Iâm yours at the end of the day.â
Michael chuckled, unable to hide his blushing face, and abashy by your words of affirmation, âStop toying with me girl, I know your mine,â He pushed his head back into your chest, making himself comfortable, and squeezed you in his arms a little tighter, âAll mine.â
You placed a kiss on his forehead, âAll yours sweet boy.â
You turned off the lamp on the bedside table.
Michael placed a few kisses on your shoulder, then muttered, âGoodnight, I love you.â
Michael has been saying âI love you for a while now.â You never said it back, and Michael never expected you to, or made a big deal out of it. He just liked to verbally express his love for you, he never felt entitled to get one back, the same way he didn't feel entitled to one right now. He was just grateful to have you in his arms at the end of the night. To have a woman like you deem him worthy enough to keep as your own, to make him your lover, your paramour, was a blessing in itself. Every second with you was heaven, and he wouldn't have it any other way, this gift from god was not one heâd take for granted or be hesitant to grasp, this was his. You were his. He was yours.
He was drifting off to sleep in your arms, when your voice faintly rung through his ears,
âGoodnight Michael, I love you too.â
He smiled in his drift, âPinch Me.â
You giggled and pinched his arm.
âDo it again, this isn't a dream right? This feels like a dream.â His eyes stayed shut, his heart beat raced at the idea that you actually loved him back.
You pinched him again with a laugh, âMikey this isn't a dream. I love you too, seriously.â
His smile broke out into a beam, he pulled you unfathomable closer, burying himself in your breast and locking his legs with your own, âYou love me too, hehe.â
You and Michaelâs giggles and flustered laughter faded into the nighttime as your sleep eventually arrived.
You didn't have a plan, nor did you have an end all be all decision of whether or not your were going to divorce your husband, however what you did know was that you loved Michael. You loved him far more than you loved James, and you were much more willing to risk it all for Michaelâthe divorce, the terrible public image and everything else that came along with being a cheating wifeâthan you were to stay in a loveless marriage with a millionaire whoâs a cheating asshole.
You were entirely his, down to every atom in your body. It was clear as day. Somehow, someway, someday, you and Michael are gonna be together. Not an affair, not a secret, but a real, out, couple. You were sure of it.
Summary: Your playing sims and Randy joins in to play with you and help your sims fall in love.
Randy leaned against the bedroom doorway, one eyebrow raised as he watched the way your stretched out on your stomach across the bed. Your legs kicked lazily in the air while your laptop sat open in front of you. The room was quiet except for the clicking of keys and muttered commentary.
"What are you doing, baby?" Randy asked, walking over. You glanced up with a small smile. "I'm playing Sims bae I made you and me on here." His face lit up. You made us?" "Mhm." Randy dropped onto the bed beside you and looked at the screen.
There was a Sim version of him standing awkwardly in a giant mansion. "Why my Sim got more money than me?" You giggled.
"I did the infinite money glitch." He shook his head dramatically before gently poking your cheek. "You are so adorable." You rolled your eyes. "I'm serious, look."
You showed him the custom house you'd picked out. It was huge, way bigger than anything they could realistically afford. "See? Now we're rich."
He couldn't help smiling at how invested you was. The concentrated look on your face was cute enough on its own, seeing you get excited over something as simple as a video game made him melt. "Okay, what now?"
"I'm trying to make them fall in love." Randy blinked. "Babe, they're literally us."
"Exactly, Sim Randy keeps wanting to go play video games instead of flirting." "Sounds like me"
You smacked his arm lightly, he laughed and pulled you closer against his side. Together you both spent the next hour controlling yourselves.Sim Randy finally accepted a flirt interaction, and both of them cheered.
"Yayy" you said proudly. Randy wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed the top of your head. "Still not as cute as us in real life." On the screen, their Sims shared their first kiss. You smiled and leaned into him. "Yeah," you admitted softly. "I think we're doing a better job."
"Way better." He said smiling. You were both completely invested in making sure their Sims got the same happy ending you guys already had.
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