jaafar jackson’s muse

the next morning had a serene feeling to it, the moment your eyes adjusted to the natural light that peaked through michael’s curtains. your nose sniffing hard as your mouth waters from the smell of food being cooked, you turn to michael’s side, empty. you started your day with a simple routine, your mind replaying last night. after some time, you went downstairs to the kitchen, michael with his orange juice on the counter as he keeps cooking. “good morning?” your voice somewhat hoarse, clearing your throat, michael turns and smiles. “good morning beautiful, how are you feeling, today?” you think back to last again and shrug, “okay, i guess.” michael’s eyes avert to your hand, you gripped your phone, one that dying with plenty of messages and calls from your ex.

michael hums, not believing you, “i’m almost done with breakfast.” he looks back at the stove, you nod and get on the island, sitting on it like usual. “thank you again for letting me stay over, again.” michael smiles and nods, turning back to you, his back pressed against the stove while being careful. “you’re always welcomed here, you know this.” he reminds you, his eyes stuck on your grip. “you gonna let that go?” he smirks and you look at your phone. “oh.” michael hums and slowly comes up to you.

“oh.” he mocks, and stands in between your legs, making sure your robe continues to cover you. his hands find your waist, pulling you to the edge. your breath drops, while the two of you stare at each other. michael’s eyes flicker to your lips, then to your neck as you stare at his lips, “i’ve missed you a lot recently,” he begins, his fingers teasing at the robe’s belt. you gulp and look at his fingers, his veins so deserving of your kisses.

you hold in a whimper and lick your bottom lip, still gripping your phone. michael dips his head to your neck, his lips ghosting your skin, and you lean in closer, sighing as you feel him finally. “he doesn’t matter anymore, right?” michael whispers against your neck, his mouth covering kisses on your skin, while his fingers begin to untie your robe. you whimper and shake your head, “no, he doesn’t.” michael smirks as he brings his kisses down to your boobs, “good, turn your phone off for me.”

as you turn your phone off and place it on the counter, michael brings his hands up to your face and cups your cheek. his thumb caresses your skin, you wrap your hands around his waist, and let out a gasp as he leans in and kisses you, his soft lips open a bit. michael sucks on your lips carefully as you slip the tip of your tongue in against his. his fingertips, warm and tender, touch your neck and run down to your arms before slipping your robe off. his head dips down to your neck again, sucking on your skin, your whimper and moan, as your hand holds onto his neck. michael presses his teeth down on your shoulder blade, “mike—” his right hand comes up to your bra strap, dragging it down.

“can i show you what love feels like?” he mumbles against your skin, michael raises his head up, staring at you as if you created the universe. his fingers itched to show you what devotion felt like; his lips and tongue needed to be buried deep between your folds as you cursed to any god that would listen. you swallow your saliva hard and nod, “please.” you whisper.

michael’s left hand lies flatly on your stomach, and you lie down on the counter. he leans his face down with you and presses his lips on your stomach as he kisses up to your bra, his other hand rubbing up your waist to your ribcage, beckoning louder whimpers out from your mouth. michael became captured by you, and he wouldn’t want it any other way.

instead of focusing on your racing thoughts, you listen to how michael scrambles around in the kitchen downstairs. the gentle roaring of the tea kettle, the ticking of the clock. anything to calm you down, anything that distracts you from crying again. 

you just close your eyes and listen to the peaceful, domestic sounds of shared life with the love of your life. 

a couple of minutes later, the bedroom door opens with a light creak. michael enters the room with a soft look in his eyes, all careful like you’re made out of glass, carrying a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “you feel any better, honey girl?” 

tears almost run down your cheeks again upon hearing the pet name. because no matter what life throws at you, you’ll still have michael. to catch you when you fall, to pick you up when you can’t get up. 

“a little,” you reply, a little sullen, voice scratchy and raspy from crying. “head hurts.”

michael tilts his head in sympathy as he approaches you, sliding the teacup on the nightstand. “i’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin, so soft and sweet like cotton candy. he presses a chaste kiss to your temple. “i’ll kiss it better for you.” 

he continues by peppering a few more to your forehead in the hopes of alleviating the constant buzz in your mind. 

that night, you fall asleep with your head in the crook of michael’s neck, with his hands around you: one hand is planted on the crown of your head, fingertips lightly massaging your scalp, and the other rests with a heavy weight on your stomach— which you requested, to keep that anxious feeling there “at bay”. 

“i’ll always take care of you, sweet girl,” michael mumbles in the dark, watching how your breathing evens out. he pushes one final kiss to the back of your neck. “always and forever.”

a soft, involuntary smile tugs at the corner of his lips. he adjusts the collar of his red corduroy shirt, his fingers tapping a gentle rhythm against his thigh. he isn't thinking about the vocal arrangements anymore. he's thinking about you.

he’s thinking about how you looked this morning, tangled up in the soft cotton sheets of your shared bed. your rich, brown skin had looked so warm against the white fabric, your hair a beautiful, soft cloud against the pillow. he’d almost stayed. he had actually leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, whispering that he’d be back soon, hating the way the morning light demanded he leave your side.

"you alright in there, mike?" the engineer’s voice crackles through the talkback monitor, breaking his trance.

michael blinks, clearing his throat and offering a quick, apologetic wave through the glass of the control room. "yeah, yeah. i'm good. just... catching the vibe. it’s a beautiful song."

"let's take it from the bridge. whenever you're ready to lay those harmonies."

michael nods, closing his eyes as the countdown begins. he takes a deep, steadying breath, letting his chest expand. when the cue hits, he leans into the microphone, his voice gliding effortlessly into that signature, silky falsetto. the layers he adds are pure magic—flawless, airy, and brimming with an emotion that feels almost too heavy for the room to hold.

but behind the technical perfection, every single note is a love letter directed straight to you.

“all i do..is think about you.”

as his own voice blends with stevie's in his ears, michael pictures your laugh. he thinks about the way your hand feels slipped into his jacket pocket when you walk together, the quiet comfort of your presence that grounds him like nothing else in his chaotic world. you are his peace.

his pretty girl, waiting for him at home, completely unaware of how deeply she has him wrapped around her finger.

he wraps up the take, holding the last note until it fades perfectly into the track.

inside the control room, the engineer gives a thumbs-up, looking visibly impressed. "that was the one, man. perfect."

the villa was buzzing with electricity, sun-kissed bodies, fresh tans, and the smell of the girls perfume and the guys cologne. you stepped out of the black truck, with a sleek black two-piece that hugged your curves, deliciously. you skin glowed under the lights of the villa and you face was glowing even more with anticipation and excitement about being apart of love island usa.

the first game ariana madix introduced to the cast members was a kissing booth game that featured three, colorful doors. each had a different text above them saying:

doggy, missionary, cowgirl

the girls were lined up on one side the doors while the boys were lined up on the other side. most of the girls gravitated toward missionary are doggy, as for the guys. but you? you chose cowgirl, smirking to yourself. fitting.

zach stood on the boys side, heart hammering. he is tall, charming, with that cheeky grin and curly dark brown locks with that intoxicating british accent that made you notice him first when he entered the villa with the rest of the boys. he’d picked the cowgirl door without hesitation, lips pulled in a shy grin. miss madix announced the rules: opens the door, meet your match, seal it with a kiss. simple yet deadly.

one by one, the doggy and missionary doors were opening. moans and cheers erupted as the girls behind those door was locking lips with their boys. then it was zach’s turn.

he pulled the door open.

there you were.

your eyes met his and for a second the sounds of the villa went quiet for you. you tilted your head, lips curving into a slow, confident smile. zach’s mouth parted, his usual smooth-talker persona cracking as he took you in, gorgeous, and standing there like you already knew exactly how this was going to go.

“fuck,” he breathed, half-laughing, half-stunned. “this is… yeah. hi.”

“hi zach,” you said, voice low and teasing. the other islanders were hollering, but you only had eyes on him. you stepped forward, hand slid on this chest, and felt the way his breath hitched. “so you like a girl on top, huh?”

he swallowed hard, nodding before he could stop himself. “guess the secret’s out.”

you didn’t wait for him to lead. you cupped the back of his neck, pulled him down to your height, and kissed him like you owned him. the kiss was deep, slow, and a little filthy, your tongue brushing his just enough to make his hands grip your waist like he was already imagining it. when you pulled back, his pupils were blown wide, cheeks flushed darker than the Spanish heat could explain.

the rest of the night blurred into drinks, confessions, and stolen glances. zach couldn’t stop finding reasons to be near you, wanting you to dominate him again like you did with the kiss. by the first coupling, he was standing in front of you, voice a little shaky but certain, very certain.

“Ive wanted to be with you the second i walked through that door.” he confessed

you smiled. “good choice.”

the days that followed were pure obsession on zach’s part. zach was hooked on you. he brought you coffee and pancakes in the morning while you were with the girls, doing your makeup. when he sat the pancakes down he only have a chance to say, “here you go, love.” before you grabbed his neck and pulled him into a steamy kiss. as the kiss progressively got hotter, your hand around his neck got tighter as he started to whimper.

it seemed like both of you forgot there were people around. when you finally pulled away, his cheeks were flushed and eyes blown.

“well that was something.” bea says, dabbing her concealer with her beauty blender as the other girls made their comments and started laughing. zach smiled bashfully before scurrying away back downstairs into the kitchen.

“nah for real, y/n. you have him whipped.” trinity says, as she checked herself out in the mirror. you didn’t reply, just grinned and continued your makeup. meanwhile zach was in the kitchen with the guys, having a mental breakdown over the kiss, cheeks still hot.

kc had noticed the look on zach’s face. “you good, bro?”

zach’s heart quickened at the question, it reminded him of what made him not so good. “uhm yeah, mate.” it wasn’t convincing at all but zach didn’t care.

back to you, though. you on the other hand had one mission: you wanted to ride him, so bad. that’s putting it very bluntly but it was the truth. ever since the first night, you were dying to make zach crumble. you wanted to see that glint in his eye when you take control.

but he was going to have to work for it.

from that moment, the teasing began.

you loved it. loved watching zach’s eyes follow you everywhere, poolside, during group chats, even when you were just stretching on a sunbed in a tiny bikini. you’d straddle his lap during one on one conversations, grinding subtly against him until he was hard and squirming, then pull away with a sweet kiss and a whispered “not yet, baby.” you’d trace your nails down his chest in the morning while everyone else was around, low enough that only he felt it, and murmur, “be a good boy.”

by day three, zach was losing his mind. he was desperate, constantly pulling you into corners for heated kisses, whispering pleas against your neck. “please mommy… I need you.” his thick accent, drowning in your ears.

but you just smile and pat his cheek. “patience.” at that point it was like he could cum just from you patting his cheek.

he tried to flip the script on day four. flirted shamelessly with one of the new bombshells during a group game, laughing a little too loud, touching her arm, throwing you glances like he thought it would make you snap and fuck him right there. it backfired spectacularly.

that night, at the shared bed. you whispered everything you weren’t going to do to him, thighs pressed against his, breath on his ear. he got whiny, hips twitching against you, voice cracking.

“but mommy, that’s not fair. i was just missing around. im sorry, I only want you. please.”

you loved every second of his desperation and the way he whimpered when you denied him again, the way he buried his face in your neck and begged so prettily. “been thinking about this since the the first time I saw you. been so good…”

but you made him wait longer.

by night six, it was safe to say zach was a high mess. the would find himself not being able to sleep at night. this night was another one of those nights. around 3am, he slipped out of the shared bed carefully, trying not to wake you. his cock was painfully hard again, throbbing against his shorts from the hours of teasing. he padded to the kitchen for a glass of water, hoping the cold would help.

it didn’t.

he stood at the counter, downing the water, but the ache only worsened. he started to pace the villa kitchen, bare feet against the cold tile, running his fingers through his messy, dark curls. soft, frustrated whimpers escaped him as he adjusted himself, the denial making every brush of fabric torture. “fuck..”

you woke up moments later, the bed cold beside you. you smiled to yourself, knowing the effect you had on him. you followed silently in just an oversized t-shirt that barely covered your ass, your brown skin catching the dim moonlight filtering through the windows.

there he was, pacing like a desperate man, hard and obvious in his thin shorts, muttering under his breath.

“zach,” you said softly, voice laced with amusement and authority.

he spun around, eyes wide and glassy with need. “I couldn’t sleep. It hurts.“

you stepped closer, and the second your fingers brushed his arm, zach let out a pathetic, needy whine, his whole body shuddering as if even that small touch was electric. any physical contact after days of teasing was driving him crazy; his cock twitched visibly, and he leaned into you desperately.

you cupped his face, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. the moment your lips connected with his, he thought he was going to pass away. he started to moan and whimper in your mouth, not minding the other islanders. he kissed you back like a starving man, tongue eager and messy, but you controlled it, nipping his bottom lip and pulling back just enough to leave him chasing your mouth with another desperate whine.

even his hands were desperate, groping the flesh of your ass, pulling you against him and rubbing his hard cock on your stomach through his shorts.

you pulled away, backing him against the kitchen island before sliding down to the floor, tugging him with you. “poor baby. All pent up because you’ve been impatient.” you pushed him onto his back on the cool tile, straddling him immediately. “no more waiting.”

you stripped his shorts off quickly, then your panties, leaving the oversized tee alone. zach’s hands hovered your thighs, trembling. “please.”

you wrapped a hand around his throat, squeezing firmly as you sank down onto his aching cock in one smooth, wet glide. zach’s head knocked back, jaw slacked. his broken moans we’re loud but the islanders must’ve been extra tired. “oh fuck mommy! yes, finally—ahh, you’re so tight, so warm… been dreaming about this for days!”

you rode him hard right away, hips rolling and bouncing with dominant rhythm, nails digging deep into his chest and leaving long red scratches. zach was vocal, the pent-up frustration pouring out in whimpers, gasps, and loud cries.

“mommy—mommy, please—feels too good, I can’t hold it—choke me harder, use me!” his hands gripped your thick thighs desperately, nails biting into your soft skin as he tried to anchor himself, leaving little crescents that only spurred you on.

you tightened the grin on his throat, chasing your release as the band in your stomach was building. as you clenched around him, zach was already reaching his end. “yeah, that’s it.” you cooed, obviously effected by the teasing as well.

zach’s voice cracked into desperate, loud babbling. “mommy fuck, mommy, I’m gonna— shit, I’m so close already—please let me cum, I’ve waited forever—mommy!”

his whole body seized when you rode him through that final deep grind. he came so hard it looked painful—back arching violently off the kitchen floor, a wrecked, loud wail tearing from his throat as his cock pulsed and spilled deep inside you. “mommy! fuck—cumming—oh god, mommy, mommy—yes!” His hips jerked erratically, nails digging bruises into your thighs, toes curling, body shaking uncontrollably through the longest, most intense orgasm the teasing had built up. He kept moaning and whimpering through every wave, completely lost and overwhelmed.

you rode him through every aftershock until you came too, moaning low as you clenched around his pulsing length.

afterwards, zach lay boneless on the kitchen floor, panting and sweaty, pulling you down onto his chest anyway. he pressed sloppy, grateful kisses to your neck and shoulders, voice hoarse. “I’m so obsessed with you, m’ never making you jealous again. I’m yours completely, mommy. use me anytime.”

you hummed, smiling against his skin, nails tracing the fresh scratches on his chest.

“i’m sorry—what are we doing again?” grant leaned over the table, careful of the plate ahead of his folded arms. he was looking down at you, jutting his neck forward and tilting his head to hear you better over the crowded chatter of the texas roadhouse the two of you were currently sat in.

“that cinnamon butter trend, babe,” you had said it like it was the most casual thing in the world—and like it was something he was supposed to know about. you exited out of the recording screen to search up the tiktok trend, clicking on a video you had liked the other day, flipping your phone screen to show him.

it was of a guy holding two small containers of texas roadhouse butter, the text over the clip saying: “can i lick texas roadhouse butter off of them?”, then cutting to a woman nodding yes, and ending with the guy excitedly purchasing some to-go.

grant stared as the tiktok replayed, trying to grasp the concept of how this was going viral, how people made this a... trend at all. maybe he really was getting old. he shifted his gaze back towards you as you tapped away on your phone to go back to the recording screen.

“so,” he cleared his throat, “just, trying to get this straight; you want to ask that, or do that, or whatever—to me?” he asked, face full of confusion and pure desperation to understand, all while pointing a finger back at himself. you refrained from telling him that he looked like the meme of that one guy in a white t-shirt pointing at himself, considering the last time you told him he looked like a meme, he didn’t understand why it was funny, even when you showed him.

you clicked at the top of the screen to adjust the audio and volume of the sound coming from your phone as you spoke to him. “yeah! it’ll be funny and cute! y’know, flipping the script of the original idea, or something like that.” you explained, rather vaguely for his taste. you glanced up at him, seeing him still and staring. you could practically hear the gears in his head slowly try to turn, trying to make sense of it all. it was oddly adorable.

“look, baby,” you started, placing your phone down on the table next to your half-finished drink. “my fans love you. they think you’re crazy hot—and you are—so they’re really gonna love this. especially because it teeters the line of something suggestive about us. and its reversing the original, like, i don’t know—idea? of the trend! not a lot of people are doing it that way, so we can hop on that! plus, its just funny. because... y’know...” you gestured to his puffed out chest that was straining against the size-too-small t-shirt he wore, and bulging out from behind his crossed arms.

grant let out a sigh, his arms falling as he saw that excited smile paint your face. you were really sold on this. there was no backing out now.

“fine. let’s do it.”

and now you were home an hour or so later, roles reversed as you laid naked and sprawled out on the bed. he held up one of the small cups of butter, scooping it out with the fat tip of his pointer finger, curling it inside the plastic to get all of its contents out. your chest was rising and falling dramatically, nipples halfway soft, halfway hardened, the tips a perfect mix in the middle, while your areolas hadn’t scrunched up just yet.

he lathered the peak of one of your breasts with the butter, chubby finger brushing over the softly pebbled nipple. he listened to you moan under his touch, before watching him through lust-lidded eyes as he sucked the butter off of his finger, latching his tongue to your coated skin soon after, toying with you in his mouth.

your phone screen lit up on the nightstand with notifications from your video, having started its gradual ascent in virality. all while grant massaged your other breast with his free hand, continuing to devour you as your own scrunched through his short, greying curls.

Growing up with the Jacksons was full of many adventures, laughs, and good times but beneath all of that was Joseph Jackson’s temper, yelling, and abuse. You were always close friends with LaToya, running around the house after being in the pool all day long and leaving wet footprints everywhere. 

One day, while having a pool day with the Jackson sisters, you had overheard Joseph yelling in his office, coincidentally, in order to get back outside you needed to pass by the office. Curiosity took over you and you couldn’t help but peek through the crack of the door. 

On the other side of Joseph’s desk was a crying Michael, silent tears falling down his face, eyes wide open and staring straight at his father. It looked like Michael wasn’t even aware of what he was being told, his body frozen and mind whirlpooling with thoughts. “You’re selfish Michael, that's what this is. A solo album, solo album you say…selfishness. What about your brothers? Your mother? Me? That never crossed your mind, now did it? You’re sure to scare all those people away with the album cover, big nose.”

Michael remained silent, eyes now pointing to the floor and his lip quivering. “Now get on out. Selfish that’s what this is Michael. Get out!” Joseph laughed. 

“Yes, Joseph.” 

You quickly walked away, trying to keep your feet light. Finally making it out to the pool you heard LaToya, “Y/N! Did you go to Paris for that swimsuit? It took you forever to get changed, we’re basically toast now!”

You let out a little laugh as you dipped your feet into the pool, testing the waters and finally letting your lower body sink into it. “Well it takes time to look pretty, LaToya. Unfortunately this beauty isn’t natural, it’s ten pounds of makeup.”

The door creaked open, Michael walked out of the office while wiping his tears and looking around to make sure no one was around. He walked down to the kitchen to grab some juice and splash his face with water before exiting to the yard. He heard faint laughter and complaints coming from his sisters. 

“Oh please! A little mascara isn’t ten pounds of makeup.” LaToya rolls her eyes, “Who are you even trying to impress? Maybe hmm…oh speak of the devil! Michael, Y/N here-”

“LaToya.” You said as your eyes went wide warning her to not continue her sentence. You turned back and waved to Michael, “Hi Michael!”

Michael’s eyes were at his feet, one foot over the others and switching, a blush creeping on his cheeks, “Hi.” He always kept it short, unlike his brothers, Michael was on the shy side. He didn’t flirt with you or make many jokes, though sometimes you wished he did. In fact, you were close to almost everyone in the house except Michael.

It wasn’t that you both never spoke but when you did, it was just short and straight to the point. Unfortunately for you, even if the other brothers wouldn’t hesitate to get at you the moment you let your guard down, you took interest in Michael, the very brother you barely ever talked to. Moments like earlier were the type that made you realize you had a soft spot for him. LaToya eventually caught on to your little admiration of her younger brother and would tease you right in front of him. 

“Do you mind if I join you all?” He asked hesitantly looking between his sisters and finally to you.

“‘Course not, get in!” LaToya smiled directly at you as she responded to her brother.

── ⟢

Hours had passed, everyone was exhausted. LaToya had gotten out of the pool once the sun had set and was now sprawled on the couch with her arm over her eyes. Janet sat beneath her with her legs crossed and focused on the movie playing. Michael was sitting on the other side of the couch with you just a couple feet away from him. 

As the movie went by, the space between you and Michael was closing. You hadn’t realized that every time there was a jumpscare, you would inch closer to him. Unfortunately for Michael, he had noticed how close you were getting, his body stiff and casual glances to see if you were looking at him but your eyes were stuck on the movie. 

At some point your foot touched his thigh, finally you had realized the distance between you both had disappeared. “Sorry. I didn’t realize I got so close.” You let out an awkward chuckle and brought your ankle close. 

“It's fine, don't worry ‘bout it.” He gave you a smile, “Do you like the movie?”

You silently shook your head, still staring at him, “Not really. I’m not a big fan of horror movies. They give me nightmares.”

Michael laughed, his teeth slightly peeking. “I can see that. You keep getting closer.”

“Was I? Must’ve moved unconsciously.” You held your ankle a little tighter, “You have a pretty smile, you should smile more.” 

A blush was creeping up on his cheeks, as it often does, mouth slightly agape, not knowing what to say. He nodded, “I’ll make sure to smile more when you’re around.”

“Michael, you’re very handsome, you know. You’ve got a pretty smile, a cute nose, and the most dazzling eyes.”

“You’re flattering me, I wouldn’t say all that though.” He looked down, his finger grazing his nose. Looking back up at you with a smile, “I don’t hear that often.”

“Well you should. I’ll be here to tell you whenever you need it and even when you don’t. It’s the truth Michael, I wouldn’t lie.” You smiled at him and looked back to see LaToya and Janet fast asleep. “Y’know I can spot you easily even when all your brothers are around. You’re the most handsome.”

“Yeah…” Michael looked into your eyes, down to your lips and back up. He hadn’t kissed anyone before but right now, right now it felt right and apparently so did you because you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss on his lips. He turned his head with his fingers pressed to his mouth, trying to conceal that the redness had now reached his neck and a big smile was on his face. “You’re pretty too, Y/N. I get excited seeing you around.”

“Now you’re flattering me baby.” You tapped his thigh and rose up from your spot, stretching your hands up high letting your shirt rise up. “Good night Michael.” 

You pressed a kiss to his cheek as his face was still turned, finally leaving his bubble, you started shaking LaToya and Janet awake, “‘Toya, Janet, let’s go to bed. ‘M so tired, I need a bed.”