jaafar jackson’s muse

thinking about dating highschool lover! michael

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pairing: Thriller! Michael x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

©appleheadluvrr

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

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

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

Thriller!EraMichael Jackson x Reader

masterlist

warnings: reader having a complicated relationship with food.

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

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

You had been staring at it for twenty minutes.

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

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

A floorboard creaked behind you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

sorry that this is so short 🙂‍↕️

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackie Jackson x Reader

inspired by: Speechless - Beyoncé.

Synopsis: Reader welcomes Jackie back home with a romantic night of love-making.

Warnings: nsfw 18+, brief oral sex (male receiving), not quite sub!jackie but light begging

Word count: 1306

in which: You’re married to Paul McCartney & meet Michael during the making of The Girl Is Mine, & a long line of abuse, mistreatment, and unexpected circumstances bring you and Michael together

Michael Jackson x Older Woman! Reader

Yall I’ve literally never seen anyone write for an older reader and young michael, its usually always mature era michael and young reader. sooo reader is 9 years older than Michael in this fic.

in this fic: fluff/smut, friends to lovers, mommy kink, softdom!reader, sub!michael, black reader, physical/mental abuse, lots of yelling, pregnancy used to oppress reader, michael being good with kids, reader got hands

word count: 4.9k

—————————————

At first, your marriage to Paul McCartney was quite sweet. You’d gotten married in 1978, The first 3 years were quite nice. Flowers were gifted to you weekly. Your home was peaceful and fun. You’d had your first child by May of 81’, a beautiful baby girl who you’d named May McCartney, named after the month she was born. Of course, Paul didn't want to stop there, nor did he want to give you a break, so by January of 82’ you were pregnant once again, much to your dismay.

You of course loved your children, but sometimes it felt like Paul maliciously got you pregnant in order to mess with your career…You were a supermodel before having children, and while you still were booked, it was much less frequent since you’d had children. Lucky for you, your dear friend Michael has always been a helping hand since you met him in 82’.

April 14th, 1982

You were 5 months pregnant and tired as hell, but of course Paul needed you to come with him to the studio to hear a song he was recording with breakout star Michael Jackson.

You really would rather be at home with your baby girl, who’d you’d begrudgingly had to bring with you because Paul refuses to hire a nanny, and no one was available to watch her.

You rocked May while sitting on the couch, praying for no disturbances from her for the sake of your mental wellbeing and Paul's anger issues. She’d been surprisingly calm all morning, so your anxiety was soothed for the most part.

Michael greeted you quite kindly and was absolutely delighted by the sight of your baby. Michael himself had always been a family man, at 24, he had thoughts about having a family, but he disregarded it for his career, he had a whole life ahead of him.

He was quite puzzled by why a woman was actively pregnant with a baby while having a newborn, but he wouldn't question it, not in front of Paul, at least.

He just smiled and kept his behavior sweet. He took notice of your beauty. Especially your face. Full lips, pretty eyes, white teeth, your dark skin somehow glowed despite your tired eyes.

All was well until May decided she required some attention from her father. Her caramel arms reached out to him, she began whining. While you rocked her and attempted to shush her, her whining only got increasingly worse until she was full on crying. Paul stepped out of the live booth and went off on you about keeping her quiet, much to Michael and Quincy’s surprise. You didn't really have it in you to let his disrespect slide today, so you shot back a comment about how he was embarrassing himself in front of colleagues, that his child just wanted to be held by her father which is completely in her right, and that if he gave a fuck about interruptions that much he shouldve let you stay home.

He opened his mouth to retort, but was swiftly interrupted by you, “Shut the hell up and get back in the booth, Paul.” Paul knew that tone all too well, the one you used when you were at your wits end with him. He knew to back down or he’d be even more embarrassed. He took his ass right back in the booth and continued recording. The baby kept fussing, surprisingly stopping when Michael sang, which was a god send for you, and hell for Paul.

When you’d left, Michael gave you his number under the guise of wanting to babysit someday, which you didn't mind. What you didn't know was that Michael really just wanted to be near you in all your beauty.

April 27th 1982

Paul had left out for whatever the hell he was doing, opting to leave you at home alone, you’d invited Michael over for him to babysit while you took a nap. You weren't aware of it, but Michael had dropped everything to go over to your home when he’d gotten that call.

You opened the door to his sweet smile, welcoming him in with a quick “hi sweetie.”

You informed him of the basics of taking care of May, and that you’d already changed her diaper so he won't have to deal with anything like that until the time you wake up from your nap, which you’ll promptly handle.

You then took a nap, one that lasted a record breaking 4 hours. When Paul is with May you can barely get 45 minutes of sleep before he barges in claiming he "doesn't know what to do.” You were surprised when you woke up on your own and not to any disruptions, and got out of bed, your blowout now messy, clearly going through bed-head.

You walked down the stairs and into the living room, happily greeted by Michael and May, who Michael was controlling the arm of, making her wave and telling her to ‘say hi to mama!’ You couldn't help but smile at the sight of your sweet girl giggling in Michael's arm. Michael's heart fluttered at the sight of your smile, it was contagious, he couldn't help but smile brighter.

You took May into your arms while she smiled at you. “Thank you so much Michael.” Michael rubbed the back of his neck, “no problem Ms.McCartney,” He reassured you. You’d happily walked him out of the door and within seconds May soiled her diaper and laughed, “Yes, haha, very funny.” You joked with her before going to change her diaper.

Paul had come home 5 hours later, and the first thing you told him when he walked in was how good of a babysitter Michael was today.

“You think I want to hear you talk about another man taking care of my child?” He complained. You shot back at him, "You wouldn't have to if you took the time to watch her yourself." A look of fury took over his face, he stomped over to you and raised his hand up, as if he was going to hit you.

You swiftly moved out of the way and ran into the kitchen where he promptly ran after you. He grabbed you by your hair and dragged you out of the kitchen. You got up on your feet, spotting you saving grace, the flower vase from your most recent bouquet.

Without thinking you flung it at him, hitting him in the shoulder. The next thing you’d picked up was a picture frame with a photo from your wedding day, which was swiftly thrown at him as well, striking him in the jaw. He didn't want much smoke after that. With him clearly backing down, you’d began—rightfully so—berating him.

“What the fuck made you think that was a good idea Paul!? You have lost every fucking brain cell in your mind if you thought i would let that shit slide, get the fuck out of our fucking house before i call the fucking police on your stupid ass!”

And with that, he left.

Unfortunately you did in fact, let it slide sometimes.

The fighting increased more and more, until you gave birth to your son, Mason, on August 4th, 1982.

For the last month of your pregnancy he’d left you alone for the sake of your baby.

In those months leading up to your birth, Michael had come over more frequently, specifically on weekends. He’d play with May while you slept peacefully. Those were the only days you’d felt comfortable in your own home.

November 8th 1982

Michael had been at your home for a while now, sitting with May in his arms while you two talked about his upcoming album Thriller.

“Michael I'm really grateful for you, you know? You make time to come babysit for free even with how busy you are.” You said to him, interrupting his tangent about the Thriller music video.

He smiled sheepishly, putting his head down to instead look at May, “Nah it’s no trouble really, I love it here with you guys.” In reality, it was a lot of trouble to get here, but something always pulled him back to your home at 10am on Saturday mornings. He tried to tell himself he just loved babies and kids, and that May was the force pulling him back to your home, but deep down he knew it was you. Your pretty, dark toned skin that shone on mornings when you’d sit outside in the sun while Michael was with May, your manicured hands that always ruffled his hair when he did something you thought was cute, your sweet voice following it with, “Your cute, kid.” He knew he shouldn’t be, but he was gaining feelings for you, quite fast.

November 29th 1982

Michael album released today, and you were absolutely elated. You’d already bought the vinyl and was now loading it into your record player.

As the first song played, you’d made yourself and Paul a nice breakfast, things were looking up for the two of you. You hadn't gotten into a single fight since Mason was born, and you were quite appreciative of that.

As you swayed your hips to the music Paul came up and hugged you from behind. “You look stunning.” He spoke after a few moments. You laughed, “Why thank you husband,” you moved from his grasp to grab two big plates and one very small, toddler sized plate, “go grab the babies, im about to plate breakfast.

With Macy in her high chair and Mason in his baby rocker, you began dishing out everyone’s breakfast, and that morning you enjoyed breakfast as a lovely family.

Of course, that happiness only lasted for a short year and a half before the madness started up again.

February 28th 1984

Today was a very important day, the Grammys Awards. You and Paul of course were attending, along with your dear friend Michael, who’d had many nominations.

Your gown for the night was a stunning black maxi dress, you’d paired it with some classic Prada pumps, and a white pearl necklace. Paul sported a matching black suit.

You’d arrived as a couple, your dress accented your curves perfectly. The opened back of the dress added a sexy touch to your look.

As soon as you walked in the area designated for guests to mingle, Michael whisked you away from Paul in seconds, not that Paul had even noticed. He was busy talking to some waitress about a bunch of nothing. You didn't think anything of it though, perhaps they were having a real conversation.

Michael introduced you his friend, Brook Shields, who you’d heard about a few times while he was babysitting, then his producer, Quincy Jones, his brother Jermaine, his body guard, who you’d known to be a sort of father figure to him, Bill, and finally his sisters Latoya, Janet, and Rebbie.

Janet was the first to speak, “So this is the woman my brother won't shut up about?” she exclaimed, smiling while pulling you in for a hug. Latoya spoke next, “You’re even more beautiful than he described,” she said when you’d given her a hug. Michael was blushing, telling them to knock it off, you, however, were flattered.

In your time you’d known Michael, you’d grown to become a little attached to the sweet young man, even sometimes feeling a bit of romance for him, however you locked those feelings away. Your marriage is doing good right now, and on top of that, you were nine years his senior. It’d be absurd of you to pursue him!

Michael didn't miss the way your smile expanded when his sisters told you how much he talked about you. He also didn't miss how delighted you were to tell him your marriage was going well, so he was unsure of if he’d ever have a chance with you.

The night went on with you sticking by Michael's side up until the awards were given. Which is when things began to derail.

In his speech for his last award, his eighth award, he said something that made your heart swell. At the end of his ‘thank you’s’ he added, “And thank you to the woman who provided peace on my worst days. She allowed me into her home and provided a calm I was in desperate need of on my worst days and she didn't even know it. Her and her babies are the sweetest thing to ever come into my life, thank you for trusting me Ms.McCartney.” The crowd went wild. Cheers were coming from every corner of the room. The big screens flashed to you where you were smiling while patting your heart, a clear sign of love and appreciation, but not flirtatious or anything that could have a romantic undertone. You were aware of Michael's underlying feelings for you, you’d known since the week he started bringing flowers when babysat. He claimed they were an addition to the home, but you and he both knew that was a lie. He did little things like make dinner when you slept in particularly late and putting the children to bed. You’d caught him staring at you for much too long plenty of time, but you were so much older than him you really only thought it was just a crush he’d get over eventually. . Paul was sitting beside you squeezing your hand in clear anger. You were aware of the argument you were going to have once you got home, but you couldn't bring yourself to care right now.

When the night ended, you congratulated Michael, promising him to take him out somewhere nice in celebration, he of course refused but you simply told him refusal wasn't an option.

On the ride home you and Paul argued about Michael. He insisted that Michael should stop babysitting, saying Michael was ‘too comfortable with his wife.’ You begged to differ, arguing back that Michael was a sweet boy who meant no harm and helped you out quite a bit. The argument spanned the entire ride, and once you arrived home it’d only escalated.

“You’re a fucking idiot if you think that boy will ever be invited into our home again!” Paul spat at you while you walked over to the nanny you’d hired for the night, happily grabbing Mason from her arms, and letting her know that she could grab her things and go.

You spoke sternly, “Not only will Michael be back in this house, Michael will be here tomorrow afternoon.” Your head turned to Mason, who was now cooing at you, and bounced him up and down on your hip while walking to your couch and taking a seat, placing him in your lap.

Paul was furious at that, “How dare you disrespect me! I am your husband and the man of this house! You aren’t shit without me!” he yelled. You kept your focus on your baby, who was becoming quite upset at Paul’s screaming, and began bouncing your knee to soothe him, not even sparing Paul a response. This only infuriated him even more, he stomped over to you, causing you to become more guarded.

“Paul, I suggest you take some steps back and bring your voice some levels down while I'm with my baby.” You warned him.

Paul chuckled, clearly amused by that, and screamed at you, “I can do what I want in my damn house! What are you not understanding!? My house, my god damn rules!” You scoffed, his name wasn't even on the paperwork for the home. He continued, “That little pervert won't be getting anywhere near this house anymore!” By this point he’d gotten all up in your face, much to Mason's displeasure. This caused you to stand up, you wouldn't risk him having the upperhand if anything were to pop off.

“Paul you see our baby is fussing, can you please save this for another time?” You spoke calm, almost carelessly so that Mason would get the impression that everything was okay, unfortunately Paul didn't get that memo, he started right back up again, “I should smack the hell out of you for this shit!”

At that you were shocked, but didn't let it show, you spoke calmly once again, “Paul if you touch me while I am holding my child—“ You were swiftly cut off by Paul's palm connecting with your cheek.

For a moment you were still, only able to hear your son crying and Paul’s continuous screams. Then something in you snapped. You quickly walked up the stairs and into the nursery where you placed Mason into his crib.

You walked into your bedroom and slipped out of your heels, then your dress, and put on a pastel pink sleep romper. You took your hair, which was freshly blown out, and pulled it back into a ponytail, securing it tightly, then you twisted it into a bun, and finished it off with one more hair tie to make sure it was stuck in place. You took your jewelry off, which was the same time that Paul had walked into your shared bedroom.

He spoke casually, “Are you sleeping early?” You didn't reply to him, you just walked up to him and wordlessly punched him square in the jaw. The area impacted turned a bright red, but you didn't just stop there. Using his thrown off state to your advantage, you quickly punched him a second time in the chest, which made him collapse.

His collapse prompted you to stomp him in the stomach, causing him to cough and wheeze in pain. Your fury shone bright with this ass whooping. You screamed at him, “How fucking dare you put your filthy hands on me, and while im holding our child at that!” You got on top of him and straddled his chest, “Im so fucking done with your—“ you raised your fist, slamming it into his face, “disgusting,” you punced him again, “abusive behavior,” you began choking him, “I’ve put twelve of my greatest years into this relationship!”

“Please…” Paul begged airlessly.

You disregarded that, blinded by rage, "I've sacrificed my career for you! Because you wanted a family that you don't even give a shit about!” Paul couldn't do much but grab at your arms, his legs began kicking the air behind you.

“I gave you everything and you fucking throw it away every chance you get, I’m done!” You squeezed even harder. Paul's eyes began to roll to the back of his head, his kicking slowed. Your hands never let up, not until,

“Mommy?”

Your daughter’s sweet voice made you freeze, you took your hands off of Paul's neck and swiftly turned to her, smiling. “Hi baby, mommy and daddy were just…wrestling.” You got off of Paul and walked up to May, lifting her into your arms and bouncing her on your hip. Her little voice spoke, clearly still sleepy, “I didn't get a goodnight kiss before I went to bed.” You kissed her forehead, and she put her head on your shoulder, you reassured her, a wave of affection running through your body, “It's okay honey, I’ll put you to bed.”

You took her into her room and laid her in her little bed. You kissed her cheek, wished her a goodnight, and rubbed her back until she fell asleep.

Paul was still catching his breath when you’d walked back into your bedroom. You didn't say anything to him, instead opting to walk over to the landline, promptly dialing your lawyer's number, and informing her that you wished to divorce your husband for reasons of physical, verbal, and emotional abuse.

Paul stumbled into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, thinking it was safest for him to sleep as far away from you as possible.

You slept soundly in your bed that night.

March 1st 1984

In the morning, you called Michael to ensure that you were still going out that day. He of course didn't refuse.

Paul was nowhere to be found, but you’d learned from his assistant that he’d checked into a hotel across town, much to your pleasure.

You decided to switch up your look for your outing with Michael, you’d washed your hair while in the shower, opting for a picked out fro as your style for the day.

You put on a calf length pink skirt that flared at the bottom and a white turtle neck that was smoothed out and overlapped your skirt at the hips. It wasn't very cold in California, even in February, so there was no use for a coat. Your shoes—white pumps—completed the look.

You looked at yourself in your large full body mirror. You looked stunning, but something was off.

You took a closer look at every detail of your outfit and quickly noticed that you were still wearing your wedding ring.

You pondered on whether or not you should take it off, ultimately deciding that you were getting divorced so there was no point in socially flaunting your marriage with your ring.

You’d hired a nanny so that you had the entire day to you and Michael.

Michael had arrived 30 minutes earlier than you’d expected.

You were putting on your setting powder to complete your makeup look, when the doorbell suddenly rang. The nanny was already there so she opened the door for Michael and let him in.

He was waiting on the couch when you sauntered down the stairs with a bright smile. He looked handsome today, he sported a white polo and black slacks. Michael greeted you with an even brighter smile and a bouquet of peonies, which were your favorites.

You allowed him to come inside, smiling and giggling about how he remembered your favorite flower.

“Are the kids coming with us?” He questioned.

You replied back instantly, “No silly! Today is all about you. I hired a nanny to watch May and Mason and we,” you grabbed your purse, leading Michael to the door, “are going to brunch.” You left in Michael's car, in which you were able to get more acquainted with Bill through light conversation.

You’d arrived at the restaurant, gotten seated, and ordered your food. The restaurant was pretty high profile, so you weren't super worried about running into crazed fans since everyone there was either plain rich or famous themselves. There were camera flashes from outside every now and then but for the most part it's quite peaceful in the restaurant.

You were enjoying a conversation with him, food long gone and eaten, when Michael took notice of something and spoke before he even processed it, “You’re not wearing your wedding ring.” You paused, a little taken aback by his bluntness, then addressed the elephant in the room, “Michael…” You sighed, “I’ve decided to divorce Paul. So there's no reason to wear it.”

On the outside, Michael looked shocked. On the inside though? Michael was ecstatic! Every prayer he’d ever sent to the heavens above had clearly been answered.

He quickly stammered some sort of response, “O-oh. Well uh, that's great, i think…are you uh—um looking for…anyone new?” You laughed at his question, giving him a knowing look, “I’m not particularly on the hunt for a guy but if anyone wanted to come swoop me off my feet, this would be a good time.” Michaels eyes lit up at that, which you’d immediately noticed.

He perked up quite happily now, which he tried to conceal, but failed miserably to do so, “So uh… What do you look for in a guy? I mean any guy would be—be lucky to have you but uh—ya know, not every guy is deserving.” He rubbed the back of his neck with hand, clearly nervous. This made you giggle, which was absolute music to Michaels ears.

You began describing your ideal man, “I like guys that have something going for them, you know?” Michael nodded. He had something going for him, he was Michael Joseph Jackson for pete's sake! So far so good, he thought. You continued, “I don't really care what race he is, he doesn't have to be a giant but I do like man taller than me, I don't care if he’s rich, but he can't be dirt broke,” Michael’s smile grew wider at that, he was tall and he had plenty of money, he was checking all the boxes right now, “He had to be kind and patient, I have to children, so those qualities are important. He must be good with children, no exceptions.” Michael was great with kids! At first he wasn't sure if he had much of a chance, but now? His hopes were quite high. There was one more thing he had to ask though, just to be sure, “What about age though? Li—like is there any age range you won't do?” His anxiety returned with that question, he quietly awaited an answer, opting to look down at his cup of OJ.

That question evoked the fattest laugh out of you. Michaels goal was clear to you now, you had to speak on it, “Michael, if you want me, you can just say that.” Michael was extremely flustered that you’d caught on to his (very obvious) intentions. “I—I didn’t mean to come off like that, I just—well,—I wasn't sure if I even had a chance…” He looked up from his juice and at you, desperation clear in his voice, “Let me take you out soon, please.” You smiled, flattered by his offer, “Well, you do have a chance, but it’ll be harder than just taking me on a few dates,” You took a sip of your strawberry daiquiri,” You can take me out this weekend.” Michael only nodded his head in pure excitement. He couldn’t believe the woman he’d crushed on for two years was giving him a chance! You on the other hand were quite nervous for what the future held. He was good with your children, they adored him, but would you two click the way you’d hoped?

You found that out quite quickly though, because before you knew it Saturday night came.

March 4th 1984

You’d concluded your date with Michael and arrived home to two children who were already asleep thanks to the nanny.

Michael had come inside with you, slyly telling Bill to drive off without you noticing, so by the time you asked him why he hadn't left, Bill had left 25 minutes ago.

You laughed at him, “You sly dog! Slithering your way into my home.” He looked at you with a level of hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before, “Can I slither into your bed too?” You gave him a flirtatious smile and grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs and into your room.

Michael didn't waste any time kissing you, his lips collided with yours the second your room door closed. He was moving much faster than you’d expected, but you weren't one to complain.

You two got undressed and under the covers. It wasn't long before you were riding Michael's dick off the bone. He’s never had sex before, so this was his first time. He thanked every heaven above his first was you.

You were overloading his senses. Your manicured fingers weaved through his hair to pull his head up whenever it flew back, telling him to watch you while you ride him. Your perfume was all over him now, your entire room smelled like that sweet vanilla scent you always wore, actually. Your soft dark skin was rubbing against his with every move you made, every grind, every bounce. He was gonna go crazy in this bed.

“Oh Jesus! God I cant, I cant think baby I—fuck.” He squealed underneath you, gasping for air every time your sweet hole clenched down on him. Your pussy felt like paradise to him. He couldn't help but want to stay like these forever. Your warm, wet, tight hole was making him feel things he’d never felt before, things he didn’t even know he could feel.

“You're doing so good for me baby, taking everything so well.” You praised him, your words going straight to his dick and making it twitch inside you. Your body was in heaven with how good he was filling you up, hitting every spot perfectly. “You’re filling me up so good sweet boy, so much bigger than Paul.” You told him, which made him moan and squeeze your hips harder, clearly on the edge of cuming. He could barely form words, just curses and noises.

“Yes! Fu—mommy please, please, please, please.”

That one caught the both of you off guard, but instead of pausing, you played into it, “My pretty boy, you wanna cum, huh?”

“Yes! yes please! please don't stop please—“ He was swiftly cut off by you sinking down and squeezing on him, your climax hitting you in a wave of pleasure, causing him to throw his head back in a silent moan and squeeze your hips in his hands, bucking into you and cuming deep.

“Thank you mommy, thank you thank you thank you.” He kept repeating thank you mindlessly. His brain was blank. His mind could only comprehend the warm hole taking every last drop of him.

You didn't stop there. You didn’t stop for quite a while. You rode him all night, siphoning every last bit of his sanity along with it. He was completely pussy whipped.

—————————————

soooo how do we feel abt this fic? im ngl yall i dont like it and i wont be writing a part two. 😭 i mean its aight but the passion i had for it when i first started writing it vs when i finished is crazy like i literally barely even had the motivation to write the ending 🫩