word to the jealouss!!
Pairing: Michael Jackson x fem!reader x Jermaine Jackson
Synopsis: Spotting the pathetic voyeur through the door, Michael makes sure he is put back into his place and reminded that he'll never measure up.
Tags: Jermaine Jackson jumpscare, Jackson brothers being fools (affectionate), established relationship, smut, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation - guess who lol, fingering, jealousy, p in v, Jermaine being a perv, a bit of manhandling, possessive Mike, Jermaine has a smaller pp cause i said so, unprotected sex, creampie, dom Mike, dirty talk.
Word Count: 4.6k
Requested: yes/no
Author’s Note: pls tell me y'all get the title reference! Also thinking about baby mike's bedroom being filled with James Brown posters is actually so precious, my baby <3
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The drive to Hayvenhurst is smooth. Michael drums his fingers lightly on the steering wheel, humming along to the melody playing from the radio. You glance over at him, noticing the way his lips curl into a faint smile, a mix of excitement and contentment washing over his features. It’s been a while since you last visited his family home and he’s been eager to bring you back for a weekend. The second you both step out of the car, the front door swings open, and Katherine emerges with a smile.
“Oh, my baby!” she exclaims, her arms outstretched as she rushes towards you.
Before you can even react, you’re enveloped in the warmth of her hug. You chuckle as she squeezes you tightly, her joy at seeing you again unmistakable. Meanwhile, Michael stands beside you, his arms crossed over his chest, a playful pout forming on his lips.
“wow, ma,” he says, feigning offense. “You’re just gonna act like I’m not even here?”
Katherine pulls back just enough to give him a teasing glance. “Boy, hush! You see me all the time. Let me love on my daughter-in-law,” she says with a wink in your direction, making you giggle.
Michael clutches his chest dramatically. “This betrayal... It cuts deep.”
Katherine shakes her head, chuckling. “Oh, stop it. Come on inside, both of you. Everybody’s waiting.”
Inside, the house is buzzing with energy. The moment you step into the living room, you're met with warm greetings from all of Michael’s siblings. Janet practically launches herself into a hug with you, grinning ear to ear, while the rest of the family chime in with their own welcomes.
“Y’all finally made it!” Janet grins.
You smile as you let go of his hand, already spotting Katherine and Rebbie making their way to the kitchen. You follow without hesitation, knowing the heart of the house is always where the food is being made.
Soon enough, you find yourself catching up with the Jackson women. Michael stays back in the living room with his brothers, lounging comfortably as they fall into their usual banter. It doesn’t take long before the conversation shifts to him—specifically, you.
“So,” Tito starts, stretching his legs out. “How’s life with your girl?”
Michael sighs, rubbing his face. “Y’all do this every time.”
Jackie laughs. “Because it’s funny.”
“How’s my little brother holdin’ up with all that ass?” Marlon teases, smirking as he leans back on the couch.
The room erupts in laughter while Michael simply exhales sharply, shaking his head. “You are a bunch of fools.”
“Come on, Mike, tell us,” Randy goads. “You know you’re whipped.”
Michael rolls his eyes, but there’s a flush creeping up his neck. “You guys are just jealous. It's not my fault I found the one and you’re still out here fumbling.”
“Mhm,” Marlon hums knowingly. “Yeah, right.”
Michael just smirks, knowing there’s no point in arguing. He lets them talk their mess, already used to it. But as the conversation keeps going, he notices Jermaine watching him a little too closely, his curiosity sharper than the rest.
“So, Mike,” Jermaine starts, leaning forward slightly. “What’s she like?”
Michael raises a brow, his expression neutral but his mind alert. “What do you mean?”
Jermaine shrugs, keeping his tone casual. “I mean, she’s fine as hell, we all see that. But I’m trying to figure out if she’s as sweet in the sheets as she is in the streets.”
The playful ribbing from earlier had been all in good fun, but something about Jermaine’s tone rubs Michael the wrong way.
Michael exhales through his nose and sits up a little straighter. “You’re real invested in what me and my girl do, huh?” His brothers go quiet, sensing the shift in energy.
Jermaine chuckles, trying to play it off. “Gee, can’t a brother just be curious?”
Michael narrows his eyes. “no, not like that.”
Jermaine puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just saying... you’re a lucky man.”
Michael doesn’t respond right away. He just studies Jermaine for a moment longer before replying. “Yeah. I know.” Michael shifts in his seat, his jaw tightening. He’s used to the raunchy turn their conversations often take—years of touring and late-night talks have desensitized him to it—but something about Jermaine’s focus on you feels different. Too specific. Too eager.
The conversation moves on, but Michael keeps a mental note. He doesn’t say anything else, doesn’t start no drama, but he watches Jermaine a little closer for the rest of the night. He knows his brother, and he knows when somebody is looking a little too hard at what’s his.
After a morning of catching up over a light lunch everyone agrees it’s the perfect day for a lazy poolside hangout. Chatter spills from the dining room as Michael’s siblings scatter to change, their voices echoing through the halls. You two slip away to his bedroom upstairs with faded posters of James Brown and Stevie Wonder pinned to the walls.
The midday sun filters through the blinds as you stand in front of the mirror, adjusting your bikini bottoms. The faintest scent of his cologne lingers in the air, making the space feel intimate. Behind you, he tugs at the strings of your bikini top, fingers brushing your bare back as he ties the knot securely.
His touch is gentle, yet there’s a slight hesitation in the way his fingers linger a second too long. You glance at his reflection in the mirror in front of you, catching the slight furrow in his brow. His usually warm brown eyes seem distant, clouded with something unreadable.
“Is something wrong?” you ask, tilting your head slightly.
Michael blinks, as if snapped out of deep thought, and shrugs like it’s nothing. “It’s fine,” he mutters before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your shoulder, but even then, you feel the tension in the way his lips press firmly into your skin, like he’s holding something back.
You turn to face him fully, giving him a knowing look. “Michael, I know when something is on your mind.”
He exhales through his nose, dark curls bouncing slightly as he shakes his head. Instead of answering, his hands slide to your waist, fingers kneading and pawing at your soft skin, thumbs rubbing circles against your hips.
“You sure you wanna wear this?” he asks, tugging at the fabric of your bikini, his voice just above a whisper.
You chuckle, reaching up to brush his curls out of his face. “Yeah, why not? It’s just your family. No strangers here.”
He hums in response, still looking at you like he isn't convinced. His grip on your waist tightens slightly before he finally lets go, stepping back as you finish getting ready.
—
By the time you make it to the pool, the rest of the family is already settled in. You sink onto one of the poolside loungers, stretching out with a satisfied sigh, sipping on a glass of fresh lemonade.
Michael sits beside you, one arm draped over the back of your chair, his fingers idly tracing shapes on your shoulder. He’s relaxed, at least outwardly, but you don’t notice the way his eyes subtly track Jermaine, who’s lounging across the pool deck.
Jermaine thinks he’s being discreet.
He isn’t.
His gaze is hungry, fixated on the way your bikini clings to your body, how little fabric is actually covering you. His glances are subtle, but Michael clocks every single one. Jermaine’s lips curve into a faint smile and he adjusts his posture, spreading his legs a bit wider as if settling in to enjoy the view.
Most eventually make their way into the pool, splashing and laughing, but Jermaine stays put, seated on the pool’s edge, his feet lazily kicking through the water. Michael notices the way his eyes flicks toward you every so often, how he watches, waiting.
And then it clicks.
Jermaine isn’t just staring, he’s hoping. Hoping that when the pool’s gentle waves roll through, they’ll shift your bikini top just enough for a quick glimpse, a moment of indiscretion.
Michael feels a slow burn in his chest, a tight coil of possessiveness winding its way through his body. He moves without thinking, his arm reaching over to fuss with your top, adjusting the straps, pulling at the fabric to make sure it covers more. each tug a silent message that only he and Jermaine can understand.
You glance at him, confused. “What are you-”
“Just fixing it,” he mumbles.
Your brows knit together, but you don’t question it further, letting him continue his subtle display of dominance. He traces his hands down your arms before resting his palm on your thigh possessively.
After a bit his shoulders relax and his breath steadies as he watches Janet and Marlon argue and splash water on each other. the tension from earlier seeming to fade. But then his eyes shift across the pool and that calm shatters like glass.
Jermaine’s staring at you again, drooling practically. The wet fabric of your bottoms clings to you, outlining your pussy perfectly under the thin material. Then he sees it, Jermaine’s swim trunks tented, his hard on straining against the fabric, shameless and blatant. Michael’s blood ignites, a seething heat surging through him, and his fingers curl into fists against the pool deck.
He’s been patient, too patient, swallowing the urge to confront him in front of everyone. But this? This is too far. The audacity, the disrespect, the way Jermaine’s practically undressing you with his eyes—it’s a violation and Michael’s not having it.
He doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t even hesitate. In one fluid motion, he’s on his feet, snatching your wrist and pulling you up with him. “Come on,” he snaps, his voice cutting through the hum of the poolside noise. You stumble slightly, caught off guard, water dripping from your legs as he drags you away from the edge.
“Mike..what-” you start, but he’s already moving, his grip firm as he hauls you toward the house. The others glance over, confusion flickering across their faces and Rebbie calls out, “Everything alright?” from her spot under the umbrella. Michael doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look back, his strides long and purposeful as he pulls you through the doors and up the stairs.
The hallway blurs past and he shoves open the door to his bedroom. It swings inward, stopping just short of closing, the latch catching slightly ajar, but he doesn’t care. Before you can get a word out, he spins you around, his hands on your hips, and bends you over the edge of the bed with a force that steals your breath.
“Michael!” you gasp, your palms hitting the sheets, the fabric soft against your skin. He’s behind you in an instant, his chest pressed to your back, his hands sliding down to spread your legs wide. The wet bikini top digs into your ribs, droplets falling from your body and soaking into the quilt. His breath is hot and uneven against your neck.
“How dare he,” he mutters, the words barely audible, laced with venom. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you in place, and you twist your head slightly, trying to see his face.
“huh?” you stammer, confusion evident due to his sudden intensity, but he cuts you off, his hands moving to the ties of your bikini bottoms. He yanks at them, the knots giving way with a sharp tug, and the wet fabric tears free, sliding down your legs to pool on the floor. You shiver as the air hits your bare skin, goosebumps prickling up your spine.
“He thinks he can have what’s mine,” Michael snarls, his voice trembling with anger, his fingers trembling too as they graze your hips.
“Knew he was jealous, but this? This is just pathetic.” He’s mumbling now, half to himself, the words spilling out like a dam breaking.
You try to lift your head. “what are you talking about?” you manage, breathless, your heart pounding against your ribs.
But he doesn’t answer—not with words. His fingers find your sensitive nub, brushing against it with a possessive touch, and a jolt shoots through you, your body arching instinctively. “This pussy’s mine,” he says. “Ain’t nobody else’s. You hear me?”
You nod, or try to, your face smushed into the sheets, your breath hitching as his touch sends sparks racing up your spine. “Y-yes,” you whimper, the word muffled, your hands clutching at the quilt for leverage. The droplets from your wet hair and skin keep falling, soaking the bed in little dark spots, but it’s irrelevant. Everything's irrelevant except the heat of him behind you.
He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back. “Saw him staring at you,” he says.
“Like he could ever deserve you. Like he could even dream of touching you.” His fingers move faster, coaxing a moan from your lips, your hips rocking back against him. “He’s got no business looking at my wife like that.”
The pieces click into place—Jermaine’s lingering stares, the way Michael’s been on edge all day. You want to say something, to reassure him, but his fingers are relentless, driving away coherent thoughts from your mind.
“Michael, I didn’t-” you start, but he shushes you, his fingers slipping, teasing your slick opening.
“Oh no, baby, not your fault. Never.” he cuts in, his tone softening slightly as he kisses the back of your neck.
“You didn’t do anything. It’s him. disrespecting me, disrespecting us.” His hand tightens on your hip and he pulls you back against him, his long fingers teasingly sinking inside you, two at once, stretching you with a claiming slide. You mewl, your knees buckling slightly, but he holds you up.
“Mine,” he mutters again, almost a mantra, as he pumps his fingers deeper, curling them just right. Your body responds instantly, a wave of pleasure crashing over you, and you bite your lip to stifle the sound, your face buried in the sheets.
Michael’s fingers, sticky and glistening with your arousal, slowly withdraw from your pulsing core, leaving you trembling against the damp quilt. His breathing is heavy, his chest rising and falling as he stares at his hand, his wedding band catching the dim light, coated in your juices. A low groan rumbles in his throat as he brings his fingers to his lips. His eyes flutter shut, lashes dark against his skin, as he licks them hungrily, savoring your taste like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever had.
“Goddamn, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire, “you taste so fuckin’ good.”
You’re catching your breath but he’s not done with you, not even close. He steps back, his hands moving to his swim trunks, and with a quick tug he shoves them down, letting them pool at his feet. His cock springs free, thick and heavy, bobbing slightly as it stands proud, the sight of it enough to make your mouth water if you weren’t so overwhelmed. The bulbous tip glistens faintly and you can’t help but feel a fresh wave of desire coil in your belly, even as your eyes wander elsewhere.
Through the open window, the sounds of the family drift in. The noises pull you out of the haze for a moment, your face heating up as the reality of where you are sinks in. Michael’s about to take you apart while his entire family is just outside, blissfully unaware—or so you hope. The thought sends a flush of embarrassment and thrill through you, your heart pounding as you imagine someone hearing, someone knowing.
But he’s not letting your mind wander for long. He steps closer and you feel the warm head of his cock press against your wet entrance teasingly. “Eyes on me, baby,” he says, his voice low and authoritative, snapping your attention back to him. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he slides his length along your folds, not entering yet, just letting you feel the weight of him, the promise of what’s coming. “Don’t you go thinking about them out there. This is about us.”
“They're so close…” you whisper.
“Let them be,” he says, his tone almost defiant. “You’re mine right now.” He pushes forward, the tip of his cock breaching you, invading your soaked pussy with a slow thrust. You gasp, your body tensing at the stretch, your gooey walls fluttering as they adjust to his girth. He’s big, impossibly so, and the sensation is overwhelming, a delicious burn that has your nails digging into the fabric.
“Jesus,” he grunts, his voice low and strained as he sinks deeper, inch by agonizing inch. “This pussy’s gripping me so tight, like it knows who it belongs to.” His hands tighten on your skin as he bottoms out, his hips flush against your ass. You exhale shakily, your body trembling as you adjust to the fullness, the way he fills every part of you, leaving no room for anything else.
“My girl,” he whispers under his breath, almost to himself, his voice dripping with possession. He pulls back slightly, then grinds his body forward, plunging his meaty cock back into your glistening cunt. You moan and you bite your lip, suddenly hyper-aware of the open window.
“Shh,” he says, but there’s a hint of something reckless in his voice. “Gotta stay quiet, baby. Don’t want them hearing how good I’m making you feel.” But the way he says it, the way his hips snap against you, harder now, tells you he doesn’t care as much as he’s letting on.
Each thrust is deep, animalistic, his cock dragging along your sensitive walls, hitting spots that make your vision blur. “Michael,” you whimper, your voice muffled but desperate, “they’re gonna hear…”
“Don't care” he growls, his hands sliding up your sides, one gripping your shoulder for leverage as he thrusts harder, deeper. “Let him hear.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust that makes your body jolt forward, your hands scrambling for purchase on the quilt.
“He doesn’t get to dream about this. Doesn’t get to imagine touching you. This is all mine.” You whimper, unable to hold it back. The laughter and splashing seem louder now, closer, and you can’t tell if it’s your imagination or if someone’s wandered nearer to the house.
He leans down, his chest pressed against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, ““Feel that, sweetheart? That’s what real love feels like, what you’ll only ever get from me.” His hand slides around to your front, his fingers finding your clit again, circling it in time with his pace, and you cry out.
You’re lost in a bubble of pleasure. Your body is trembling beneath Michael as he drives into you, his breath hot against your neck. Your heart is pounding in sync with his as he savors the way you squeeze around him. Every slow pump drags the veins of his cock against your sensitive walls.
But something shifts. Michael’s rhythm falters, his body tensing against yours, and you feel the change before you understand it. His pace slows to a torturous, teasing roll. You’re too caught up in the sensation to notice what’s caught his attention, but his head turns slightly as he squints toward the door, a sliver of light spilling through it. There, in the shadowed hallway, a silhouette moves, unmistakable even in the dim light.
It’s Jermaine.
He catches his brother’s pathetic display. Jermaine’s hand is wrapped around his smaller cock, jerking himself desperately, his eyes glued to your body, to the way Michael’s hips move against yours. The sight is shameless and Michael’s first instinct is to laugh—a sharp, mocking sound that would cut through Jermaine’s ego like a knife. But he bites it back, his teeth sinking into his lower lip to stop the smirk threatening to break free. He doesn’t want to disturb you, his precious girl, not when you’re so close. You deserve this, deserve to feel good, and he’s not going to let Jermaine ruin it. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to let his brother off the hook.
A little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, and Michael’s lips twitch, his eyes glinting with something dark and triumphant. He’s not just going to let Jermaine watch, he decides to put on a show. One that’ll burn itself into his mind and leave no doubt who you belong to.
Show him what he’ll never have.
His grips your hip tighter, steadying you as he adjusts your position, making sure your head is facing the headboard. He doesn’t want you to know Jermaine’s there, leering like a coward.
“Stay right there, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, laced with a command you don’t question. You nod, your cheek sliding against the damp fabric, your mind too cock drunk to notice the edge in his tone. His hand presses gently but firmly against the back of your head, keeping your face down. “There we go, good girl.”
He starts to move again, faster now, his girthy cock somehow feeling even harder, even thicker as he sinks deeper into your slippery cunt. The brutal pace takes your breath away. You’re trying so hard to stay quiet, mindful of the family outside but Michael’s unforgiving. He knows exactly how to fuck you, how to angle himself to hit the spots that make you moan the loudest.
“God,” you pant, your voice muffled but needy. “It’s… it’s too much.”
“I know, I know,” he says, his voice full with affection, though his eyes are locked on the door, on Jermaine’s pathetic silhouette. “You’re my girl. You take me so well.” His words are for you, but there’s an edge to them, a deliberate taunt aimed at the figure in the hallway. He shifts slightly, angling his body to give his brother an unobstructed look at the way his lengthy cock stretches your pussy, the way your glistening folds cling to him with every plunge.
Jermaine’s still there, his hand moving frantically, his cock leaking with a desperation that’s almost pitiful. he watches, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. Michael’s gaze meets his brother’s through the sliver of the door, and his lips curl into a subtle, predatory smirk. He picks up the pace, his hips slamming against you with a force that makes the bed creak, his cock driving so deep it pulls a loud, involuntary moan from your throat akin to a scream. He’s showing off now.
Jermaine stumbles slightly, his hand stalling as he realizes he’s been caught. His eyes widen, a flush of embarrassment creeping up his neck. but his hand is still fisting his leaking cock, unable to stop despite the shame that should be drowning him. He’s hypnotized on the way Michael’s cock disappears into your wet pussy. It’s pathetic and both of them know it.
The slap of his balls against your pulsing clit makes your eyes roll. You try to lift your head, to turn and look at him, but Michael’s hand is quick, pressing gently but firmly on the back of your neck, keeping your face buried in the sheets. “Uh-uh, patience, girl,” he says. “Just feel me, okay?”
You whine and his effort pushes you closer to the edge, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him so tight he groans, a low sound that reverberates through you. “You like that, don’t you?” he mutters, his voice thick with pride at being able to make you feel so good. Yet his eyes are still on Jermaine, burning with a possessive fire. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful…falling apart just for me.” a jab meant to twist the knife.
““You know this is all for me, don’t you? Every inch of this belongs right here,” Michael says, his voice loud enough for the unexpected audience. You think he’s talking to you, your mind too foggy with pleasure to catch the subtext. But Michael’s staring right at him, his body covered in a sheen of sweat that glistens deliciously. ““Ain’t nobody ever gonna make you feel like this, girl. This is mine to give.”
Jermaine’s breath hitches, his hand slowing but not stopping, his eyes darting between Michael’s face and your body. He’s caught, humiliated, but he’s too far gone, too consumed by the sight of you, by the fantasy he’ll never touch.
and Michael’s blood boils even hotter. He leans down, his voice softening for you. “Nobody else gets to see you like this.” he says, his tone tender now, a contrast to his overwhelming pace. “Isnt that right sweetheart?”
You nod, your voice a broken whimper. “Yes! yes, Michael,” you manage, your body shaking as the pleasure builds to a crescendo. “Only you.”
“That’s right.” His hand slides up your back, tangling in your damp hair as he tugs gently, keeping your head down. His thrusts grow erratic, his cock throbbing inside you as he chases his own release, his looks over breathlessly, daring him to keep watching. “You hear that? Nobody else. Just me.” Directly speaking to the man.
Jermaine’s hand moves faster now, his face flushed with a mix of shame and desperation, and Michael’s smirk widens. Goodness he’s getting off to being humiliated, isn’t he? The bed creaks louder, the sounds of the wet slap of skin filling the room, drowning out the distant laughter from the pool.
“Michael, please,” you beg, your body shaking as you teeter on the edge. “I need- I need to…”
“I got you, baby,” he says, his voice softening for you. “Cum for me. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Your moans turn into a cry as you finally shatter, your walls pulsing around Michael’s cock as your body trembles uncontrollably. The pleasure is blinding, your vision blurring as you grip the quilt, your knuckles aching, your moans so loud you’re sure they carry through the open window, echoing in the minds of anyone close enough to hear.
Michael follows right after, he sinks himself deeper, his coily pubic hair tickling your skin as he fills you to the brim with thick, hot globs of cum. His hips stutter, his grip on your waist bruising as he rides out his release.
Jermaine cums too, a pathetic spill over his hand that drips down his fingers, he steadies himself by holding onto the wall and biting down onto his arm. Eyes shut, he imagines licking Michael’s cum from your folds, a fantasy that makes his spurt even more before forcing himself to straighten up.
Michael pulls out slowly as he lets his cum dribble out of your well-fucked pussy, a slow, creamy trail that speaks louder than any words could. It’s a silent, unmistakable message to his brother: This is mine. You’ll never have her.
Jermaine’s lust filled trance leaves him as the reality of what he’s witnessed sinks in, the humiliation finally breaking through his arousal. He takes a step back, nearly tripping over his own feet, and disappears into the hallway, the door creaking slightly as he retreats.
Michael exhales, his body relaxing as he turns his attention back to you, his hands gentle now as he helps you turn over. He pulls you into his arms, his lips brushing your forehead, your temple, your cheek, a stark contrast to the fire that consumed him moments ago.
“You okay?” he asks, all the anger and bravado melting away as he pulls you up, turning you to face him. His hands cup your face, searching your eyes for any sign of distress.
You nod, still breathless but feeling sated. “Yeah,” you say, your voice shaky but warm. “More than okay.”
He smiles, a real one this time, and leans down to kiss you, his lips gentle against yours. “good,” he says, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours.
“During…did you hear something? At the door?”
“Just the wind, probably. Don’t worry about it.”
© michaelsfavgirl 2025
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