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
tag list (just comment to be added) @mysterioussag @savagenctzen @xyahx @agustdpeach @tojiswifeforlife @rebelatbay @justalocalloser
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’.
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.
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!”
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.
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.
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.
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,
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.
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.
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
anyways yall this kind of premise is actually gonna become a series of mine soon, so stay tuned for that andddd now im finna go start chapter 6 of april showers brings may flowers bye chat! 😽👋🏾
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