#jaafar

synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!

warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)

thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3

Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.

It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.

Harmless.

There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.

content/warnings: quickie smut, jaafar's in his michael makeup, wife! reader, they're currently in tension bc theyre mad with each other, so it lowkey starts angsty but ends steamy and redemption, short but sweet, sub and whiny jaafar YES, dry humping into unprotected sex (hints at breeding kink), fem anatomy described WC: 4.1k A/N: i knew as SOON as i saw him post this picture... a fic was incoming LOL. also, i've been getting lots and lots of questionable and hate comments under my account and i'm here to tell all the haters that this is not the page to do so. i will cuss you out AND block you!

You’ve been gnawing at your lip for what seemed the entire car ride- 45 minutes to be exact. You were unsure whether even coming to see your husband at work was the right idea, especially right now. But it was a tradition you both had built since he began filming, and you weren’t planning to break it just because you happened to be mad at him. 

The argument started two nights ago over something that should’ve been small but has grown slightly. Due to Jaafar’s new movie, Michael, being a family-oriented production, much of the funding came directly from the Jackson family. Thankfully, most of the older family members had their wealth secured and set, and didn’t dig too deep when investing their funds. The second generation, such as the Jacksons’ kids, including Jaafar, weren’t as wealthy. They had their privileges, of course, but most of the money they made was earned individually. Jaafar had built his wealth through music production and occasional film score composing. 

When you got married, you agreed that any major financial decisions would be made together. That was the smartest and most conscious decision. For the five years you two have been married, that deal has been kept. A couple of days ago, however, you received a phone call from your accountant, who let you know that a very large sum had been removed from your account and transferred to someone else. When you double-checked with her to assure it was a mistake, she let you know that Jaafar had signed off on it.  You looked into it, and it turns out, Jaafar had contributed his own investment into the film, without double-checking with you. It made your stomach twist with irritation and hurt, but you chose to brush it off till he got home that evening. 

You were at the kitchen table, dinner in hand, as the front door opened. Jaafar walked in, throwing his hoodie on the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” He muttered and reached to press a kiss on your face. You turned slightly, lips hitting your hair instead. 

His eyebrows rose in confusion, but he brushed it off, turning to the sink to wash his hands. He took a quick glance at you, searching for anything that could alert him to why you hadn’t greeted him back. “How was your day today?” 

You shrugged, food no longer looking appetizing. You set the fork down and picked up the glass of juice. “Could’ve been better.” Jaafar sets his plate down, arms holding his upper body up against the marble-grained countertop. “Why’s that?” 

“Why did you take 1 million dollars out of our account and give it to the Estate?” You curtly say, pivoting your body towards Jaafar. You point to the flat screen of your phone against the table, lip twitching in uncertainty. You hated confrontation, and doing it with your favorite person made you hate them even more. 

He sighs, shaking his head. He parts his mouth, ready to give an explanation even he knows isn’t enough for you to just leave it alone. “You know my family’s all giving their own shares. I thought it’d be necessary if I did too.” 

“Without checking with me?” 

“I didn’t think I needed to. With filming going on, we needed more funds for some reshoots we’re doing. I thought it was obvious.” 

You scoff, standing from your chair. You stride towards the kitchen, across from Jaafar as he keeps his gaze on you. “We have been asking each other about that kind of stuff for 5 years, Jaafar. Why would it change now?”

He shrugs his shoulders, and his unwillingness to even pretend he can’t see where you’re coming from begins to make your blood boil, but you cross your legs, holding onto the counter for some sort of support, at least. 

“I get you want to help your family out, and it is your movie, but you have to let me know. I cannot see that kind of money just being transferred out of our account with no explanation.” 

“It’s just money. We’ll get it back, I promise.” “That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Jaafar, and you know it. It’s the fact that you did it without checking with me first.”

Jaafar picks up his plate and fills it with food. You stand, baffled, unsure whether he was done talking to you. He walks behind you, taking his seat in the chair at the table. You turn, hands raising in confusion. “Are we done discussing this?”

“We’re not discussing anything. You’re arguing with me about it while I’m trying to explain my side.”

“No one’s trying to argue, babe. I’m just letting you know I didn’t feel comfortable with that happening.” 

He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head in his palms, breathing without structure. You cross your arms, feeling defeated. “And I’m letting you know what it’s for. I’m not asking for the money back; we need it. The movie needs it. I need it.”

There’s a slight crack in his voice as he speaks, and you know the pressure of everything is on him. It’s in the tired creases around his melancholy eyes, under the plumpness of his chapped lips. It’s in the small bruises in his hands and knees, dancing for hours till his toes bleed in pleas for a break. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s belittling your side of the conversation, so you muster all the courage inside you to shake your head, foot tapping against the tiles under your slippers. “I understand that. I do, I really do. But that amount of money is huge. There’s no excuse for that. We’ve been talking about wanting to try for children soon, yet you make decisions like this behind my back without consulting me first. That hurts, J.” 

“It’ll play out when the movie comes out. That money will come back, and more.”

You suppress an eye roll and shrug your shoulders. “Can you even try to apologize and see where I’m coming from?”

“I do see your side, baby, I do. But please, for the sake of peace, see mines too.” 

Your heart hurts. You understand he’s deflating the way he is because of pressure, exhaustion, and confusion. But you know you’re right, too. And neither of you is willing to recognize each other’s explanations right now. You take a deep breath and raise your hand. “Fine, then. For the sake of peace, sleep in the guest room.” And with that, you give him one last disappointed look before walking away. For a second, you think he’ll apologize and come after you. But in the next second, your steps stay lonely. 

The next morning, Jaafar doesn’t say anything to you before he leaves. He brews you a mug of coffee, but doesn’t leave a note or even bother sending a text message throughout the day to check up on you, like he usually does. You knew the argument could’ve been fixed with a simple apology from him, and maybe a rational thought from you as well, but it was puerile behavior from the two of you now. You reciprocate the same energy by not making him dinner that evening and staying by the pool until he falls asleep. You walked by the guest room and took a quick peek inside. He’s asleep, still dressed in his clothes, even having his shoes on. He’s shivering, and he’s holding the throw pillow tight in his hands. The sight makes your insides turn, in regret and empathy. You shake your head to yourself and walk inside, softly pulling the pillow to the floor. You reach to take his shoes off, and hold his sole carefully, aware of the blisters covering his toes. You throw the blanket on his body, giving his thigh a squeeze before walking away. 

“I love you.” His voice is dazed, interrupting your attempt to quietly leave the room. 

You hold onto your chest before breathing softly. “I love you. Night.” Your voice is fragile, and even as Jaafar’s hardly awake, he heeds the pain in your voice. It makes the guilt soothe him even more, and he closes his eyes, afraid that if he keeps them open, he’ll shatter into a million pieces. 

•┈┈

You park your car in the parking garage, taking a deep breath and holding onto the bag you’ve brought with you. You brought one of Jaafar’s favorite foods, a crispy chicken sandwich from the Honor Bar. It was where he took you for your first date, and you’ve been bringing him lunch every week, as a way to see him amid all the busy hours throughout the work days. 

The crew members greet you as always, giving you polite gestures as you walk through the halls with your bags in hand. Your pass is wrapped around your neck, and you check the time on your watch before stopping in front of Jaafar’s door. You bring a hesitant hand to the door before taking a breath, knocking softly against the wood. You wait a beat before opening the door, and feel the breath you’ve been holding in release on its own. Your occupied hand trembles, and you feel your body betraying you as you force your mouth shut. 

Jaafar is in front of his vanity, a small mirror mounted on the wall, with bright, intense lights highlighting the details of his face. He’s dressed so elegantly, still in costume. His makeup and hair still intact, and despite visiting him for so long, you’ve never actually seen him in costume. Not so still, at least. And alone. 

You hate the fact that there’s a flicker of disbelief in his face, one that he masks with relief. You give him a small smile and clear your throat. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” 

“You look shocked to see me here. Not sure I like that.” You close the door and turn the lock as you take a seat on the couch across from Jaafar. 

He opens his mouth, gazing into your eyes as he removes the sparkling white glove from his hand. “I figured we’d still be… you know. I think I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” 

There’s a small scoff that escapes from you, but you follow it with a tut. You cross your legs, tapping your fingers against your knee. “How are your hopes now?” 

Jaafar bites his inner lip, tugging at the tag on his pants as a distraction. “Undeserving.” 

You take his mutter into consideration, cognizant of the tone as he waited for your response. You hum, dipping your head as your eyes remain locked with his. “We have to talk about it eventually. Now, preferably. I don’t want our food to get cold.” 

He softly breaths, an attempt at expressing a sense of humor, but he’s too emotional to do so. “I’m sorry for my behavior these past few days. For a while, actually.” You give him a nod, an acknowledgment of the understanding of what he means. 

“The process for creating this film, and bringing it to life, has become such an overwhelming process. I got so wrapped up in trying to figure things out the way all these experienced people have done before that I thought I could do it, too. In doing so, I went against our core vows and have hurt you in the process. That was never my intention, baby. I truly am so sorry for the way I've acted over the past few days. I gave you space because I know we both needed that more than anything. But I missed you so fucking much, I was going crazy.” Jaafar’s voice cracks numerous times, and he feels the top of his lip wet with several tears. He doesn’t care to let the emotion come to life, because he deserves to feel the regret he came to terms with the moment he saw you walk away. 

There’s no sound in the room besides your heavy breathing, and it takes every restrictive power in you to stop you from standing and shoving Jaafar’s delicate face into your chest. The tears streaming down his face break you so gently. You taste the sweat under your chin as you bring it to your lips, moving anxiously under Jaafar’s red eyes. 

“I’m sorry for not being willing to see your side, baby. I think I always did, but I was mad at you for being so stubborn.” You whisper, eyes slightly dipping in mendacious tautness as your husband gives you a concurring nod. 

He dabs at his face, attempting to wipe any tears off his prosthetics before he continues speaking. “You wouldn’t have to feel that way if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry, sweet girl.” 

The nickname breaks you of any restraint, and your body rises before your mind alerts you. You close the short distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around Jaafar’s sequenced shoulders, rubbing at any previous rigidness with consoling devotion and pardon. He feels the way only your unique and soothing touch can bring him back to life fully, and he closes his eyes, a quiet moan escaping him. It was quiet under the heavy breathing that was transpiring from his mouth, which you almost didn’t catch. Almost. 

“Now, now, I forgive you, baby. I missed you, too.” There’s a commanding intonation in the manner you hum against Jaafar’s styled hair, and suddenly the friction between the two of you grows desperate. This was secretly your favorite part after all the worries are no more, and the things you have said to one another are gone. Somehow, it always got to that point. Where sincere apologies are made, and you drop the authoritarian act, and become authoritative. The anger is no longer quiet screaming, but instead moans of passion. In some way, you sometimes wonder if this unbreakable habit is wrong, but it always gets to that point somehow. Where your clothes become half-off, and all the pent-up frustration becomes released through ruts and rushed kisses.  

There’s a twitch in Jaafar’s hardening cock as he hears the tone in your seductive syllables, and he forces his hand against the pinch of your waist to relax. He slightly pulls his head away from your chest and throws his head back. “We’re done filming for the day, in this costume. I’m ‘posed to be taking this makeup off, actually.” 

You hum in reply to his piteous mumble and bring your fingers across Jaafar’s face, fixating on every detail of his features. The makeup team took their time in ensuring his face was exact to what his uncle’s details were, and you ran your fingers extra carefully on the parts you noticed were made with additional caution. It was something so alluring about seeing Jaafar in this costume and makeup- it was almost like it was another version of him you never knew you could access. But having him under your touch, legs on either side of his perfectly built thighs, made your core begin to moist with seduction and satisfaction- a guilty pleasure, if truth be told. “Is that so? And here I was, having some time to watch how beautiful you look in that makeup.”

Jaafar would never get used to the way you would confidently call his beauty out. He knew he was a pretty man, but hearing the words come out of your lips, the ones he loved to run his tongue against, was another form of a tantalizing rush down his cock, quickening his pulse until his mind would become foggy, control no longer his. “Can you help me take it off, then? Please, baby?” 

A double glance at the locked door is all it takes for your lips to crash against Jaafar’s. Your tongue swirls against his, desperate savoring evident in your hoarse exhales. Your hands run along the back of his head, textured curls tangled in between your fingers. There’s a soft piece caught between your ring as you pull, which makes Jaafar whine. The cry is frenzied, and a smirk crawls on your lips. His hands began to fondle with whatever plumpness of your body he could find, wanting to capture whatever he could knead. 

Every clash against your mouth is an unspoken plea Jaafar begs for sonorously. He needs more, and despite the wetness of his pre-cum you feel against the material of your bottoms, the distance is too much. He knows there’s a time limit that the two of you have to fool around before work begins again, and the warmth that circulates throughout his body is enough sampling to thrill him for more. He takes a shameful swallow before lifting his hips up, readjusting himself in the chair, and gripping onto your hip bone. He laps at your lip as he moves your body against his own, the drag of your clothed cunt against his own cock melting flawlessly. You grind onto his lap with erratic snaps, eyes rolling back with elation. The thrums against your skin become too much, and you pull off your top, crashing Jaafar’s face into your chest. He does his job in nipping at the softness of your breasts, ensuring a mark is left with a desperate lick. His patterns become overstimulating, so you pull down your bra and keen in roil as his teeth graze over your nipples. 

Jaafar silently begs to whoever is listening to his intoxicating mind to allow him to remain in this bliss forever. His eyes trace over the transfer of his makeup against the sweat on your skin, and that sight is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen on you. He feels his hair stick onto his skin, but his focus remains on the bounce of your breasts, every hump against the curve of his cock enveloping him in a trance he never wants to snap out of, not even when he feels his release begin to build up. 

You feel the metal of his zipper hit your clothed pussy, and the sensation makes your button tingle with electricity. You feel your slick continue to swell, pleating against your folds. Your jerks are intense, like a personal workout your body appreciates you’ve decided to take. Your eyes open for a slight minute, stuck on the way, Jaafar’s eyes remain riveted on your body. You let out a sharp intake of breath, feeling a tiny bit of drool threaten to escape from the side of your mouth. The consciousness only grows because Jaafar’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Overstimulating tears, the ones that you know he’ll let out the second your walls enclose around his bare cock. 

He gives a soft croak as his eyes dip, greed entering his body as he cups your breast. “More, more, more.” Every whine is hasty, yearning for a release. He doesn’t care that his underwear will be sticky once he pulls it down his legs, or the fact that the very expensive costume pants he’s wearing will be ruined with your slick. Jaafar’s only focus is on the rapid darts of his tongue on you. He watches the way your mouth parts open, your head bobbing with every lap he gives you.  

He feels the release threatening to snap, so he uses all his force to grip onto your hips even harsher, approving of every pornographic bounce you lay on him. “I need to cum.” He whines against your skin, and you bring your mouth to his ear, softly licking his lobe as your hand runs down his neck and onto his jacket, gripping the material beneath it. The small conscious part of your mind is aware he’s still in costume, and will most likely have to return it once he’s done using it. 

The bigger portion of your consciousness, however, only cares about the intense throbs of your cunt, because you give him a laudatory nod, melting at the way your skin burns so perfectly under Jaafar’s reckless hold. Your husband instantly uses his green light and cries, moaning like an animal in heat as his release fills his pants, wet and slick, and begins to run through onto your thighs. Your release comes seconds after, and your bounces slow down, legs spasming with exhaustion. 

Your heavy breaths blend, and you bring your hand hurriedly to his pants, unzipping the material, fingers wetting with Jaafar’s cum. You bring a finger rapidly to your mouth and lick it, humming at the taste. Jaafar swears he feels more spill out of his tip, so he brings his hands to help pull his cock out as you stand and step out of your pants, not caring to do the same with your panties. You pull those to the side and keep one hand on Jaafar’s shoulder, breath hitched as you sink down on his cock. Every inch is an eyeroll you give, and before you know it, you’re both immediately swallowed by warmth. There’s a hint of pain, so you use the adjustment to his size to bring your lips to his neck, licking at his sweet spot.

“Thank you, my sweet girl. Thank you.” The tightness disappears into pleasure, and you move slowly. You begin to grind against his shaft, building up slick before you begin to quicken your pace. His hands come up to your face, and your features fit so perfectly against his large palms.

“You’re doing so good for me, for us, my baby. I love you. You always do so great. I admire you, my sweet love.” Every word hits you deeper than his cock, and your body instinctively begins to build an unrelenting tempo, every ride against his perfect cock massaging your walls. It makes your body yearn for more, more than what you’re bucking for.

Every bounce on him becomes a precise beat, hips smacking against one another at the same time. Your fingers run under Jaafar’s eyes, tears slickening them as you softly smirk. “All these tears, just for me, hm?” 

He nods without hesitation, cock hitting every spot so perfectly. “Yes, m’am.” Oh god, could he be any more perfect for you? You hum against his skin, watching the ways his curls move against the rhythm you’ve both set, and it makes you fuse grow even quicker. 

Jaafar grips both sides of your hips, eyes focused on the way his cock slips in and out of you. Watching the way your cunt is so perfectly stuffed by him, it makes his hunger grow. He takes hold of the control, thrusting himself into you with pounds so heavy and filling, you feel it penetrate you mercilessly. His mouth opens before he can think about what he’s about to say, yet he feels no regret. “I want to cum inside you and put a baby in you. Can I do that? Please? Will you let me stuff you full, sweet girl?” Your moans become inconsolable, and you nod your head, unwilling to care about the reality of what this will mean for both of you. Your legs begin to shudder, and you give warning taps against Jaafar’s face as he nods. 

His thrusts become frantic, wanting to make sure you feel the need in every vein inside you, in every rut as he begins to fill you. He directs your hand to your nipple, and you pinch it, and your vision becomes spotty. Your mouth parts, and your back arches as Jaafar’s hips jerk against you. His whines grow louder, and you take every single one in memory as he spills inside you, painting you like a piece he wishes to admire forever. His tired eyes come down to your opening, and he watches in awe as his release spills outside your cunt and down your legs. 

You fall onto his chest, knees limp as Jaafar brings his hands to your back, soothing it in a familiar pattern. A wave of aftershock washes over you for some time, so you’re silent, body slightly twitching from the sputters undone. 

Jaafar pulls your head off his chest with care, pressing kisses against your face as he whispers comforting praises. It makes you melt, and your walls begin to flutter as he softly twitches inside you. His pupils are dilated, and the sight of his wet, dark, beautiful eyes makes you lean forward, relaxing your mouth against his. 

“Sweet girl.” He mutters against you, stroking the softness of your neck as your breathing calms down, no longer past the normal beat. 

He is actually very handsome????? LIKE LOOK AT HIM ???????

summary: You’ve been given instructions clear as day yet the tasks you’re given makes you wonder, is this really what it’s like being an assistant ? 

word count: approx 2.5 k

an: i loved the film so i had to write this!! i may make a part 2 to this and/or write more jaafar!michael pieces lmk what you think!!!

During the protracted car ride, you felt nauseous. The dizziness worsened as the car fastened, the street lights passing by in a flash. Your finger nails dug into the leather seats, clawing at any sensation of being grounded. You were desperate for work, young and

It was hard not to compare yourself to the

young ladies that you considered old peers with. They were either making their names well known in successful careers or were associated with such folks. It was when you looked up and met the unamused and slightly worrying eyes of the driver did your realise your first mistake. Your eyes snapped down and say the white tightness of your knuckles. “Sorry !” You exclaimed, pulling your hand away from the leather. You were about to make a dent.

John Branca, an old friend of your family had graced you with the desperately needed opportunity.

You weren’t looking for anything special. Anything that could you some independence and time away from home.

You knew he worked for well known names in the industry yet your somewhat naiveness failed to make you realise that you would become familiar with them aswell.

“I’ve been struggling for awhile.” You shrugged, slouching in your seat. “You’re still young.” John nodded. “Besides, you still have options. Are you still thinking about college ?” He asks, taking a sip of his drink. “John.” You lean forward, a grave stare in your eyes. “I’ve never been academic !

I don’t really want to work anyway but I’m so sick of my parents telling me that I’m wasting my life away. What what they know anyway because as far as I-

You always caught yourself when you got carried away. A sigh escaped past your lips as you huffed in annoyance.

“I know someone who could use some assistance. Do you have it in you to be an assistant?”

“An assistant ?” You wondered. Not once had it ever crossed your mind. Being someone’s assistant couldn’t be too difficult could it ? You’d handle phone calls and run a couple of errands. Yeah, what else could you expect ?

“It’s Michael Jackson.” John stated calmly.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“As in…the singer ?” Your words fumbled over, your thoughts non clear.

“Do you know any other Michael Jackson by any chance ?” He chuckled and you could only join him, allowing yourself just one moment of ease.

It became suddenly so real when the giant gates opened and the car cruised by the electric fan gathered around, screaming at practically another that went by as an attempt to get a glimpse of the Jackson’s home.

Then the car stopped and you were jolted out of your seat, your head bumping into the passenger seat head rest right in front of you.

You could only grip on your notebook tightly as you opened the car door, your legs slightly shaking as you rose.

“Um..” You paused, your head turned left to right and right to left. John gave you nothing to work with. Surely you weren’t expected to just walk up and knock on the door ?

“Is this the right address ?” Your lame attempt of speaking to the driver was useless as before you could even get your last word in, the driver shamelessly rolled up his window and scurried off, leaving you standing even more dumbfounded than before.

You swiftly turned, hoping to shake off your nerves only to be met with the sight of a roaming peacock.

“Hello…” you mumbled, tiptoeing around the careless creature. As you looked up to look at the massive home, you had to halt your movements to take it all in. Just from the outside you could tell it was a grand home and a well deserved one at best. You could only wonder, if they had peacocks walking around what else did they-

“A giraffe ?!” You gasped, jumping a few paces back. Was the entire garden a zoo by any chance ?

Before you could stare up at the animal any longer, a tall man made his presence known.

“Did John send you ?” A man who you could only assume was security of some sort asked

“I’m y/n !” Your nervousness got the best of you and all you could do was stare up at the man with a crooked smile and a twitching eye. How long does it take for eye contact to be no longer polite ?

The man could only raise a brow as he extended his hand. “I’m Bill, pleasure to meet you. I’m Michael’s personal bodyguard. Follow me.” He nodded before turning straight towards the house. You skittishly followed behind, somewhat grateful for the forwardness amid the confusion.

As you walked into the house you couldn’t believe the sight before you. You’d never seen a finer house, especially one with housekeeping !

A woman walked by, dusting the furniture as another swept the floor. Just then you hear the sound of someone coming down the stairs.

That odd feeling in your stomach returned, leaving you to force your eyes down at your notebook and dreading the moment you’d have to look up again.

“Hello Bill, who is this ?” a soft yet recognisable voice spoke out. Your neck began to ache as you slowly built up the courage to meet his eyes.

Just like that the man himself stood right before you. It was odd really, seeing someone face to face that you thought you would only ever see on television. You got a good look at his dark ethereal eyes and the way thy softened when the light hit them. He wore a plain white shirt that tucked in perfectly at his waist, black jeans and a towel resting on his shoulders as a slight line of sweat formed around his hairline.

The realisation that you were standing still was awfully awkward hit you hard.

“I’m ! I uh-“

Words failed to leave you as you tried.

What was your name again?

Not once in your entire life had you ever been starstruck and yet here you were. Your eyes fell once again and you find yourself staring at his well known shoes along with the white socks.

He must’ve been practicing.

“You don’t like my loafers ?” He teased, a bright smile was evident on his face. His light humour was obvious yet it left you in a panic.

“What ! No I don’t ! I mean yes I do like them I didn’t mean I didn’t it’s just-

You could only close your eyes and wished that the ground would swallow you whole.

Yet it seemed that Michael’s bodyguard came to your aid. “Her name is y/n. Branca sent her.”

“y/n.” Michael nodded. You liked the way it rolled off his tongue. “Pretty name.”

Like a fish out of water your mouth was agape.

“Well I’ve got to get back, was nice meeting you, y/n !” Michael ran back up the stairs as quick as he came down and you were left standing there even more puzzled than before. Bill himself was no help as all he gave was a simple shrug and off he too went.

It was some time later you were called and straight to duty you were ready.

“I need to go to the store.” Michael stated, polite as ever. “Sure ! What do you need ?” You asked, following behind as he strutted towards the car.

“You’ll see.” was all he said with a giggle.

You tilt your head in awe. You never worked for anyone before so you couldn’t really compare but there was something about Michael that made him different from others beside the obvious. Perhaps naively you thought he’d boss you around and would be strict, rude even but it was evident now more than ever that you were wrong.

Were you different compared to other assistants or was it that the person you worked for was different ? It seemed so as you were certain you would be attending some meeting or arrangements and yet here you were… in a toys store. You weren’t expecting to be spoon fed information but the lack of acknowledgment left you baffled. Bill pushed the cart along as you stood by his side, your eyes scanning the list of endless toys, checking them off as you collected each.

You didn’t even realise that Michael wasn’t with you until you turned around and saw Michael hiding around the corner, holding a shooting toy. He smiled at you and lifted his index finger to his lips, cheekily warning you not to expose him. You smiled back nodding to play along. Then pop !

A ball smacked Bill in the back of the head and you had to practically spin around in an attempt to cover your laugh, your hand catching your lips so quick.

“You should pick out a toy, y/n !” Michael said, placing a board game into the cart.

“Um.. What type of game ?” You wondered.

“Any ! What games do you like ?” He questioned, gently nudging his shoulder against yours.

You did not have in you to come up with an excuse or think of various different games so you named the first one that you eyed on a shelf nearby. “Twister !” You grinned, proud of your effort.

It was getting late and before you would go, you made a quick trip back to the car to retrieve

shopping bag as you had forgotten to collect it earlier. As you ran up the stairs in a hurry, you passed through the corridor making your way to Michael’s room. As quick as you were walking you were as quick to stop as you heard a demanding voice. You took small steps closer to the closed door and placed your ear against it.

You knew Michael was there and you subconsciously started to grit your teeth as you heard his father’s voice on the other side.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying yet you knew his tone was stern and Michael wasn’t quick to answer back. It left an unease within you but you couldn’t find it within yourself to move and maybe it was the same for Michael.

When the door creaked open you took a couple of steps back, making yourself just out of eye view. You waited patiently until the huffs and puffs of Michael’s father were at a safe distance before entering.

“Michael ?” You whispered, not wanting to disturb him. It was a disheartening sight, Michael was sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. He looked so defeated and you wanted to solve his problems but you also knew your place.

Keeping your distance, you sat down at his side. You didn’t force him to look at you or force him to open up. In the silence all you could hear was his quickened breath and it seemed that he couldn’t lower it. It was then you gently placed your hand on top of his clenched fist. As soon as you did, you could feel his hand relax under yours and finally his chest stopped rising so high. You could be perceived as unprofessional yes but right now that didn’t cross your mind.

What did was the fact the your heavy heart yearned for warmth and it seemed like it was exactly what Michael needed. Crismin blush scattered your face and all you could do was turn your cheek the other way and pretend that you spotted a rather interesting looking toy night the many scattered across the shelves.

You could feel his eyes on you but it wasn’t harsh like a predator gnawing at its prey but rather soft like a someone in need of light.

“I need to do some things.” He was trying to distract himself, it was clear to you so all you could do was give him a genuine small smile and leave him be.

At the bottom of the stairs was your belongings that you left discarded before making your way to Michael’s room but as you grabbed your bag you noticed something was missing.

Your notebook !

Just then you heard the squealing sound that only a certain animal would make and you found yourself running out to the driveway and standing before the fountain. There he was Bubbles the chimp himself was standing on the edge, out of all the stuff in the house he could’ve grabbed onto, it just had to be your notebook.

“Bubbles…” you raised your hand out carefully, not wanting to startle the chimp.

Yet it seemed Bubbles was going to have it his way or no way as he raised the notebook above his head and dumped it right into the water.

With a cheer, Bubbles ran off leaving you to deal with your own misery.

As you leaned over the fountain trying desperately to grab it, your foot tripped and you went face first into the fountain causing a big splash. You gasped as the cold water hit you and your clothes as the heavy clothes suddenly weighed you down.

“y/n !” Michael called out. He was making his way towards find you to say goodbye when he found you in a compromising position.

You could barely make out but as you squinted your eyes you could just about make out his figure making his way towards you. You were in an inch of water yet you hoped to drown. There was a slight look of worry in Michael’s eyes yet despite that, the unusual situation that you found yourself in had him grinning. Looking back now, you were glad that your slight woe

tended to his apparent sorrowness.

“Here ! Grab my hand.” He extended his arm to you but as you grabbed it your foot slipped on the tile and Michael found himself just as soaked as you as he was toppled over into the water.

“I’m s-so sorry ! I didn’t mean for this to happen ! Your chimp took my notebook and he dumped it here so I tried to-

You were still hunched over in the water and was stuttering out many apologies.

John was not going to be happy hearing about this.

You only stopped when Michael stood up, dripping wet has he gently took your hand and climbed out of the fountain. “I see that.” He raised a brow in amusement.

Michael picked up your ruined notebook and although the ink had been running down the page he could still make out the writing left on a page that Bubbles so happened to left open.

Michael <3

“Great notes you’ve got there.” He laughed, leaning down to take off his saturated shoes.

“Those aren’t notes !” You tried to defend yourself, squeezing the water out of your hair.

“So this was never your notebook ?” He titled his head, taking a step towards you. You began to shiver and you weren’t sure if it was because of being drenched from head to toe or was it Michael himself ? “Is it your diary ?” He pursued, holding the sopping notebook up.

Damn him and his cute squinting eyes.

This was certainly not how an assistant should work and act but when you stared into Michael’s eyes and he stared back just as much as you.

── .✦ 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐧

Synopsis: Jaafar Jackson, your oh-so-sexy fiancé, had been teasing you all day since he finally got a day off after the exhausting press tour for his new movie, Michael. It started innocently — spanking your ass as he walked past you in the kitchen, kissing your legs, arms, and neck, or whispering sweet, seductive nothings into your ear. You’d just scoff, thinking he was joking. Until it became very clear that he wasn’t joking anymore, and suddenly he was latched onto you like a damn magnet the second you came back from running an errand.

Content: 18+ (MDNI!) some smut and fluff cause Jaafar is the sweetest. Oh, and use of a camera!! Not proof read!! (This is lowkey a little dirty..)

Author’s note: Was delaying a Jaafar fic for sooo long because your girl’s been busy with her big girl internship (done in June FOR GOOODD) but anyway hope yall enjoy. Was also listening to Vixen by Miguel while writing this hence the title 🤤🤤

࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ 𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:°❀⋆.ೃ

The smell of your lotion lingers in the bathroom as you continue massaging it into your legs, making your way to the bedroom. The tension of wanting sex has been floating in the air ever since your man came home.

Suddenly, you hear Jaafar coming out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still slightly wet. Without a second thought, he smiles and walks toward you almost immediately. “God, this is the moment I’ve been waiting for all day, baby,” he says, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

“Jaafar...” you manage to whisper as his hands run all over your body.

“Your body, baby...” he murmurs, his hands slipping under your top.

“Your curves...” you gasp, slipping the top off.

His kisses move from your mouth down toward your chest, latching onto your nipple. As his hand travels from your shoulders down to your core, you hiss through your teeth; the way he speaks to you almost makes you finish right then and there.

“...and your goddamn pussy,” he growls, his hand slipping into your pants and grazing your clit through the fabric. He looks up at you, his eyes dark. “I missed you so much.”

He comes back up again and slightly pushes you toward the bed behind you. Your hands latch like claws into his hair, pulling slightly as he leaves marks on your neck, fucking inhaling you like an animal.

You slide out of your pants and panties, laying completely bare before his eyes.

“My beautiful baby...” he whispers, smiling as he lays on top of you. In a swift motion, he pulls the towel from his lower body, and you see his hard cock exposed to your eyes. You can’t help but let out a sudden whimper at the sight of him. His love for you was big, for sure, but that thing was even bigger.

“On your stomach, baby,” he commands, sounding dominant yet so sweet at the same time. You obey his words and turn around, leaving your ass as his first view.

“Jaafar, put it in please...” you whimper, your walls clenching around nothing, needy for him.

“Eager, aren’t we?” He giggles, spitting in his hands and rubbing the slick substance on your ass before giving it a sharp spank.

You whimper at the burning feel; it hurts a little, but it feels so good. You look back to see your man’s face, and he is completely flushed. He looks so fucking lust drunk; his eyes aren't even really there anymore, his pupils dilated as he stares at your body as if he hasn’t eaten in days.

He looks into your eyes, breathing heavily.

“Y/N...”

“I want to film this.”

Your breath catches and you choke a little.

“C-can I?” he asks. the shyness can be heared from the way he asks. You nod without hesitation.

“A-are you sure, baby? I won’t do anything that you don’t want,” he reassures you. Right then and there, you could’ve sworn he really was a Prince Charming.

You smile softly. “I’m all yours, J. I won’t mind.”

He brings his face close to yours and pecks your forehead. He grabs the phone from the nightstand and starts the video, filming your face first, then his. He gives his cock slow strokes before finding his way to your entrance from behind, going in slowly. You both gasp at the feeling; the burn always gets you. Even though you’ve taken his big dick many times, the feeling never changes.

“Come on, princess, you can take it,” he breathes, holding up his phone. You can’t wait to watch this back, and he certainly can't either.

Then he starts pulling out, and you swear the burn is so good you almost scream into the pillow. His voice isn't quiet either; you hear him moan so loud. Neither of you know what is in the air tonight, but the sex feels too good.

He finds a rhythm in his thrusts, hitting your cervix with his dick. He can barely hold up the phone because his pleasure is just so overwhelming, and it's the same for you as you grip the pillow, almost crying from the pleasure. Suddenly, Jaafar bends down and pulls your head up slightly so you look into the camera as he does. You look at your fucked up face in the lens and realize that no man could ever fuck you the way Jaafar does.

He is so demanding and dominant, yet so sweet like honey. His voice is always so soft and reassuring; you never have anything to worry about. God, you love your baby so much.

He keeps thrusting, his movements becoming faster and more frantic as he holds the phone steady. “Look at me, baby... look at the camera,” he pants, his voice breaking. You do as he says, your eyes locking onto the lens, your face flushed and eyes hazy with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

The tension in your body reaches a breaking point. You feel the first wave of your climax crashing through you, a violent, pulsing heat that makes your vision go white. “N-ngh! Jaafar!” you scream into the pillow, your body arching wildly. At the exact same moment, he lets out a guttural, primal groan, his body stiffening as he thrusts as deep as he can go. He cums hard, the force of it making him shudder as he pours himself deep inside you.

The phone wobbles in his hand as he loses all control, the video capturing the raw, messy beauty of the moment you both hit the peak together.

He groans, a long, low sound of pure relief, and collapses onto your back. His heavy, sweat slicked body feels like a warm weight against you, and you both lie there for a moment, chests heaving in unison, the only sound in the room being your ragged breathing.

He wipes your tears with his thumb and kisses your cheek softly.

He doesn't pull out, though. Instead, he stays buried deep inside you, letting his cock warm you as the aftershocks of the climax continue to ripple through your muscles. He presses his face into the crook of your neck, breathing you in, his heart hammering against your spine.

“Thankyou princess..”

After a few long, quiet minutes of just existing in each other's warmth, he finally groans and slowly pulls himself out of you. As he slides free, you feel the sudden coolness of the air where he just was, and then you feel it—the heavy, warm sensation of his cum dripping out of your cunt, slick and messy against your thighs.

You let out a soft, tired giggle, feeling completely spent and utterly loved. He rolls to your side, pulling the covers up over both of you and tucking you into his chest, his hand resting possessively on your hip.

“Tomorrow it’s back to work again…” you say quietly, your voice softer now as you look up at him.

Jaafar exhales through his nose, like he’s been holding onto that thought all evening.

“Yeah…” he murmurs, thumb tracing slow circles over your shoulder, gentle and absentminded. “I love what I’m doing. But these days… I just miss nights like this all the time.”

His touch is warm, grounding. The room feels quieter somehow, like even the world outside has decided to pause.

You shift closer without thinking, your head finding his chest. “Then don’t disappear into it,” you say, half-joking, half-serious.

He lets out a small laugh, low and tired, and leans his cheek against your hair. “I won’t. I swear. I just… get pulled in. Press, filming, interviews…” He pauses. “Michael is everything right now baby.”

“I know,” you reply softly. “But I’m here too.”

That makes him still for a moment.

His arm tightens around you—not possessive, just certain. Like he’s reminding himself you’re real, not something slipping through his schedule.

“You always say the right thing,” he murmurs.

“I don’t,” you answer. “I just say what I feel.”

A beat of silence passes. Comfortable. Warm.

Then he tilts your chin up gently, just enough to look at you properly. His eyes are softer now, all the earlier exhaustion melting into something calmer.

“You know what I think?” he says.

“What?”

“I think I can do all of it… if I get to come back to you.” His thumb brushes your cheek lightly.

Your heart almost drops and you smile to yourself slightly bitting your lower lip.

You roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t get all dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic,” he says, smiling now. “I genuinely need you, y/n,” he says, voice lower now, stripped of all the earlier playfulness. “Whenever I feel lost and lonely, the only person I know who’s waiting for me on the other side is you. You’ve always been there.”

His breath shakes slightly. He blinks hard, like he’s trying to stop it from spilling over.

“Don’t ever leave, y/n…” His voice cracks, just barely. “Please.”

And then he pulls you back into him, not rushing anything—just holding you like there’s nowhere else he needs to be.

You tilt his face towards yours and kiss his tears. “I’m right here, and always will be”

Outside, tomorrow waits.

But for now, neither of you moves.

—————————————————————————

Genre: just pure fluff

Pairing: jaafar x Modelfem!reader

short one shot

Description: A glimpse into Y/N’s Vogue routine, and the sleepy boyfriend who accidentally crashed it.

The video cuts on to a beautifully lit, marble-countertop bathroom. The camera focuses on you, standing in a plush white bathrobe, your hair effortlessly clipped back away from your fresh, bare face.

You wave at the lens with a bright smile. "Hey, what's up, Vogue I'm Y/N, and today I'm going to show you my signature, everyday glam."

Leaning closer to the mirror, you pick up a bottle of facial mist, spritzing it over your skin to prep. "Because I'm constantly on planes and sitting in makeup chairs for hours under heavy studio lights, skin prep is literally everything to me. If your base isn't hydrated, nothing else matters."

As you begin rubbing a rich moisturizer into your face in upward motions, the bathroom door in the background cracks open.

Through the reflection, Jaafar walks in. He’s dressed completely down in a gray hoodie, his hair a bit messy, looking like he just woke up. He doesn't even care that the cameras are rolling. He walks right up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist and burying his face directly into the crook of your neck with a low morning groan.

You laugh softly, continuing to pat the cream into your cheeks. "We have company, Jaafar. Say hi to Vogue."

Jaafar blinks sleepily into the camera lens through the mirror, a lazy, incredibly attractive smile spreading across his lips. He doesn't let go of your waist, instead tightening his grip and pulling your back flush against his chest. "Hey, Vogue. Don't let her lie to you, she doesn't even need any of this stuff. She wakes up looking perfect."

You blush instantly, hiding your face for a second before swatting playfully at his arm. "Stop it, go get your coffee. I'm trying to work."

He chuckles, a low, gravelly sound right against your ear. He presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your cheek—careful not to mess up your freshly moisturized skin—before finally letting go. "Alright, alright. I'll be in the kitchen."

Once the door clicks shut behind him, you look back at the camera, shaking your head with a wide grin. "Anyway... back to the routine. After moisturizer, I like to go in with a really lightweight skin tint. I don't like heavy foundations for my everyday look, just enough to even things out."

You dot the product across your nose and cheeks, using your fingers to blend it out smoothly. "My signature look is all about looking fresh and effortless. Next is brows. I just use a clear brow gel to brush them upward and lock them in place. Very simple."

Grabbing a small tub of cream blush, you pat a warm, rosy shade onto your cheeks and a little bit across the bridge of your nose for that natural, sun-kissed look.

"And finally, the most important part," you say, holding up a sleek tube of lip gloss. "A good lip oil or gloss. I keep about five of these in my bag at all times."

You slick the gloss over your lips, popping them together before smiling at your reflection. The look is complete, radiant, clean, and completely effortless.

"And that is it! My signature everyday glam," you wave cheerfully at the camera as the video begins to wind down. "Thank you so much for watching my beauty secrets, Vogue. Bye guys!"

View 50,303 comments:

Y/nfanpagee: Finally, a GRWM where someone doesn't use fifty different layers of heavy product. This is so refreshing.

amazingzoee_. They look so genuinely happy and peaceful together. This is the sweetest thing ever.🥲

amaraxoxo: We usually only see this man in a tailored suit doing press, and Vogue managed to catch him in bedhead and sweatpants. I am SCREAMINGG.

lovesiic: Ima need a full tour of that bathroom/vanity setup because it looks beautiful😫.

YouTube: just STUNNING.

Itzhallie_:Omg yt what r u doing here.

millieee: LMAOO YALL EVERYWHERE😭

Sarahjanae: Her voice is so soothing, she could honestly start a podcast and I’d listen to every episode.

break up with your fiancé, cause i’m bored.

warnings: cheating. HEAVY CHEATING, smut ofc, angst

DISCLAIMER: if you’re uncomfortable with cheating PLEASE DO NOT READ/INTERACT with this story.

group chat: welovepitbull #dale

stella: see you at the cafe at 2?

jocelyn: obviously.

you: be there.

stella: btw i have a dare for you...

stella: steal jaafar jackson at the gala.

jocelyn: DO IT. FOR THE PLOT. #womeninmensfield

you: deal. see you soon.

the sunlight in the café was hitting the table at that perfect, hazy angle that makes everything feel slightly cinematic, or maybe that was just the espresso kicking in. the air smelled like roasted beans and rainy pavement, a quintessential afternoon in the city. across from you, stella and jocelyn were vibrating with that particular brand of manic energy that usually only surfaces when we’re three drinks deep into a long overdue catch-up.

you adjusted your sunglasses, feeling the familiar weight of being observed. even here, tucked into a booth at a place that supposedly had a "no-paparazzi" policy, the industry followed you. after a long morning of shoots and a grueling audition for a mid-budget indie drama, you were just trying to sink into the leather cushion and exist as a human, not a brand.

stella leaned forward, her phone screen illuminating her face with that harsh, unflattering blue light that she only seemed to use when she was about to ruin someone’s day. she tapped the glass with a manicured nail, her grin wide and entirely too predatory for a tuesday.

"so," stella whispered, her eyes dancing with mischief. "we’re really doing this? the jaafar project?"

you took a slow sip of your latte, feigning hesitation as you looked down at your cup. you kept your expression guarded, playing the role of the reluctant victim. "i don't know, guys. the optics of it? the timing? it feels like a massive headache waiting to happen."

jocelyn snorted, leaning over the table to grab a croissant. "please. you've been talking about needing a 'creative spark' for months. your life has been nothing but high-fashion campaigns and boring indie scripts. this is the adrenaline you’ve been begging for."

"besides," stella interjected, her voice hardening, "you can’t forget what maddie did to you. not just the bullying back in middle school, but how she swooped in and stole your ex-boyfriend the second she got the chance. she didn't just stop there, either—she humiliated you by exposing your crush to the entire school, remember? you were so ashamed you didn't leave your house or show your face for three days. she’s still out there acting like she owns the world, and she’s obsessed with jaafar right now. taking him from her is just poetic justice. she deserves a little bit of her own medicine."

jocelyn nodded vigorously.

"exactly. that girl never apologized for any of it. she still posts like she’s the queen of the scene, and watching you steal her target? it’s the only way to finally flip the script and humble her. she’s earned this public humiliation."

you felt a sharp, cold flicker of the old memory—the sting of the rumors, the quiet isolation of being the target, and the crushing weight of that embarrassment that had kept you trapped in your bedroom for those three long days. you looked at them, shrugging slightly to mask the fire rising in your chest. "it’s a bit mean, i’ll admit. but," you added, a small, dark smile tugging at your lips, "i suppose it’s okay."

internally, you were already mapping out the strategy.

you were a model, after all—you lived for the performance, and the idea of dismantling a red-carpet narrative was starting to feel less like a chore and more like the ultimate art piece. the initial shock of the dare had faded, replaced by a sharp, electric hum in your veins. it was the kind of thrill you hadn't felt in a long time, the dangerous, intoxicating rush of being the architect of your own controversy.

"he's a leo," stella reminded you, her voice dropping lower. "and you’re a libra. it’s a celestial train wreck. the public won't be able to look away."

you let out a soft, calculated sigh, slowly pulling your sunglasses off and tucking them into your bag. you looked up at them, and for the first time, you let the mask slip. a slow, sharp smile spread across your face—not the fake, polite grin you wore for photographers, but the genuine, hungry expression of someone who had just found a new game to win.

"you’re right," you said, your voice steady and laced with newfound excitement. "the gala is next weekend, isn't it? if we're going to do this, we do it right. i want every headline, every blurred photo, and every speculative comment."

jocelyn leaned back, impressed. "i knew you had it in you. that six-year relationship you blew up back then was just your training wheels."

"not my fault he couldn't handle the pace," you replied smoothly, feeling the thrill intensify. "but jaafar? he’s a different league."

stella clapped her hands, nearly knocking over her drink. "i love it. #womeninmensfield is going to trend for a month."

you looked out the window at the gray city traffic, watching the reflection of the cafe lights dance on the glass. you weren't worried about the PR crisis anymore; you were worried about how much fun you were going to have watching the world try to keep up with you. the dare wasn't a burden—it was an invitation, and for the first time in a long time, you were ready to play.

once the girls left, you didn’t head straight to your next appointment. instead, you lingered in the booth, pulling out your phone. you began to scroll, devouring everything you could find on him—interviews, red carpet clips, the way he carried himself with that quiet, magnetic intensity. the more you learned, the more the thrill settled into your bones, turning into something sharper, more focused.

you navigated to his profile, the screen casting a faint glow on your face. you studied his recent posts for a long moment, feeling the power shift in your hands. a small, knowing laugh escaped your lips, quiet and entirely for yourself.

"i have my eyes on you, jaafar jackson," you whispered to the screen, before tapping the 'follow' button with a deliberate, confident press.

pairing: jaafar x reader

word count: 4,0k

summary: where jaafar keeps disappearing and y/n tries to hold onto him

a/n: i got this idea after seeing the clip of jaafar and antoine talking about the michael outfits, where he mentioned he had to “shed a couple more pounds.” my angsty brain immediately ran with it and this is the result. hope you enjoy! <3

warnings: angst, established relationship, mentions of food, mentions of weight and (unhealthy) weight loss

The clock on the oven switches to 11:47 PM. Lost in thought, you stir the pasta in the pot, soft music drifting through the apartment. Your gaze wanders to the candles on the table, the ones you’ve already relit three times.

He’s running late. Again.