summary: while on a jackson family vacation you notice that your close has been acting weird...
part one
the game — status: on going
pairings: Randy jr x reader, Jaafar x reader, Jermanesty x reader
summary: what started as a casual fantasy turns into a competition when Jaafar, Randy Jr., and Jermajesty finally get you to reveal of your private desires
prologue, part one, part two
baby momma drama — status: on going
pairings: dad/husband! Jermanesty × wife! reader
summary: there's a lot of drama going on between you and jermajesty's baby momma
prequel, part one
crush on you — status: on going
pairing: 80s - 90s marlon jackson x monaleo insp! reader
summary: you're the industry's most eccentric star, while tabloids debate your love life, one man watches from afar with stars in his eyes and that is thee Marlon Jackson and everyone can see that Marlon is very infatuated with you, some say he has a crush on you
part one, part two, part three
flight 22 — status: on going
pairings: Jermajesty x reader
summary: a random collision in a crowded airport leaves you and Jermajesty unable to stop thinking about each other but fate is in your favor because when boarding begins, you discover you're seated right beside him, going to the same place, same and same hotel, maybe some coincidences are meant to happen
vision board, part one
i can’t stand you! — status: on going
parings: childhood best friend Randy Jr x reader
summary: once inseparable as kids, y/n and Randy Jr. grow apart over the years until high school turns them into rivals, but sometimes the line between love and hate is thinner than either of them wants to admit.
part one, part two, part three,
the jackson’s — status: on going
pairings: michael x reader, oc x marlon (potentially), oc × jackie (potentially),
summary: the Jackson family rules an empire built on loyalty, power, and blood. in a world where betrayal is deadly and family comes before everything, every choice has a price. ( mafia au )
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five
fandoms i’m in ≈ my hero academia, bts, straykids, seventeen, j5, dcu, harry potter, heart break high, interview with a vampire and bridgerton
my requests are open but don't expect a master piece since i have bigger fish to fry, don't be afraid to ask to be a part of my tag list all is welcome!! anywaysss here are my ideas
tid bits !!
- most of my fics take 1-3 days to write if i'm really interested in the plot if not..idk suh plus im doing all this on my phone
- i've been writing since 2017, but this is my first time writing on tumblr and no i will not show my old works from wattpad..
- my fics are for black female readers and i won't be doing requests for those who ask for non black or female readers bc i just won't be good at it yk
can't leave you alone ꩜, fuckn problem ꩜, kitchen confessions, meanie ꩜, thee ms jackson, groupie ꩜ 
jermaine
kissing game
latoya
the secret, just princess 𑣲
marlon
soon as i get home ꩜, distraction 𑣲, oh baby! 𑣲, eater ꩜
michael
caught ꩜, wedding crasher
janet
love scene, you and i 𑣲
randy jr
that's hot, feel better ꩜, pretty pink princess, accidental distraction ꩜, lady in my life 𑣲, project pink, calling on you ꩜
jaafar
i need her ꩜, favorite part ꩜, caramel ꩜, liquor ꩜
jermajesty
sunday dinner ꩜, a funny intrusion ꩜ phone calls 𑣲, private matters, serving face ꩜, surprise 𑣲, daddy’s girl 𑣲 out of luck ꩜, who?! ꩜, it's time 𑣲, lil girl, fussin and fighting ꩜, brothers best friend, bedtime ꩜, payback ꩜, alone with you, won't bite ꩜, got to town ꩜, close isn't close enough ꩜
summary: after years of friendship you and Randy jr find yourselves growing into two very different people
notes: part two of i can’t stand you reader part one here
summer 2004
the july sun beamed down over the Jacksons’ backyard, making the pool sparkle like glass. you sat on the edge with your feet dangling in the water, kicking your legs back and forth while Randy jr floated nearby on an large popsicle shaped floatie, his hands tucked behind his head
neither of you had spoken for a few minutes, it wasn’t awkward but you’d known each other for years so silence came easy
“i’m kinda excited for school” you admitted, watching the ripples in the water move around your legs
Randy snorted “you’re the only person i know who’s excited for school”
you kicked water at him “stop saying ‘i know’” he laughed “i know!” you rolled your eyes
the conversation drifted into silence again before you spoke up “you know.. i finally figured out what wanna do when I get older?” “what?”
“i wanna leave cali”
Randy slowly sat up on the floatie “…really?” you nodded “why?”
“i don’t know” you shrugged “i’ve lived here long enough…i wanna see something different” “like where?” “probably somewhere south”
he scrunched his face “the South?” “yup, i wanna go to an hbcu” “a what?” “a historically Black college” you smiled to yourself, already picturing it “i wanna go into journalism” “you like writing that much?” “yeah i write all the time” “what’re you gonna write about?” “hmmm…everything” you smiled “news, celebrities, magazines… maybe i’ll even have my own column one day”
he nodded and slowly began to float towards you “that’s kinda cool” “and…” You smiled even wider “i still wanna do pageants” “the ‘miss america stuff?” “yeah, i think it’d be fun to keep competing while i’m in college”
you continued talking, getting even more excited about your future “i wanna travel, interview people, meet new people…” Randy listened for a moment before letting out a laugh, making you scrunch your eyebrows together “what?” “you really planned your whole life” “so?” “i don’t know…it just sounds like a lot” he said with a shrugged
“so what if it is” “you think you’re actually gonna do all that?” “yeah” “i mean…let’s be for real” he said with a chuckle
“what does that mean?” he sat up straighter, with a smirk “you’ll probably get married before all that” “what?” “i’m saying most girls say they’re gonna do all this big stuff, then they end up staying home with kids”
you stared at him, waiting for him to laugh as if he was just joking but he didn’t
“you know that’s a really sexist and weird thing to say, right?” you said, your tone dropping instantly “but it’s true” “no it’s not” “my dad says people need realistic plans” “first of all your dad is Randy jackson and second of all my plans are realistic”
he smirked again “so you think you’re gonna leave cali, win pageants, become some famous journalist…” “i never said famous—” “and go to some college all the way across the country?”
“so? how is that unrealistic” “you’ll change your mind” when he said that you felt something twist in your stomach
“…why would i?” “‘cause that’s what girls do, you guys get all dramatic, realize it’s too hard, and drop it”
you slowly stood up from the edge of the pool so fast the water splashed everywhere, your hands clenching into fists at your sides “…that’s actually one of the dumbest things you’ve ever said!”
“oh my god y/n you’re being so dramatic” he said with a groan “dramatic?!” “yeah dramatic like every other girl!” “i tell you about something i’m excited about— my goals in life and you say i’ll basically become some housewife” “i didn’t say there was anything wrong with that” “but you acted like that’s all I could do!” “i fucking never said that though!” Randy yelled as he swung his legs off the floatie and stood up in the shallow end
“you literally did!” “i said you’d probably change your mind!” “and I said your fucking weird!”
he scoffed “you always gotta make everything into an argument like every girl i know” “stop saying that! and how am i making it an argument? you’re the one telling me what my future’s gonna be!” “i’m just being realistic”
“no” you snapped “you’re being a dumbass” his eyebrows shot up “a dumbass?” “yeah!” “you think you know everything” “i don’t think—” “yeah you do!”
he stood up from the large floatie, crossing his arms “you know what? fine” “fine” you snap back “if that’s how you wanna take it y/n” “it is randy” “whatever” “whatever”
the two of you glared at each other for a long moment before you grabbed your towel off the chair“where are you going?” he asked “home” you replied sliding your flip flops on
“you live next door” “i know” you turned toward the gate without looking back “and by the way”
he folded his arms tighter “…i am gonna leave California! i am going to a hbcu and i am gonna be journalist! and i would rather DIE ALONE IN A DITCH THAN BE A BORING, MISERABLE HOUSEWIFE WAITING ON A NIGGA LIKE YOU!” you screamed before slamming the gate so hard behind you that the entire fence shook while Randy stood there in silence
when school started, you completely shut randy out
you stopped sitting with him, stopped answering his texts, and acted like he barely existed whenever y’all crossed paths. what used to be a very close friendship quickly turned into awkward silence and obvious tension
by the following freshman year, things only got way worse
somebody started running their mouth, and suddenly the whole school was buzzing with rumors about both of y’all, each story wilder, messier, and more out of pocket than the last. neither of y’all knew where the rumors came from but instead of talking it out like they used to, the both of you immediately blamed each other
any memory of y’all being best friends was officially dead and buried now replaced with petty arguments, dirty looks, talking shit under y’all’s breath and a rapidly growing dislike for each other that eventually turned into complete hatred
august 2009
( reader and randy are 17/18)
“first day of senior year next week, how you feeling” your dad asked walking into the kitchen
“i don’t feel any type of different than i did last year” you replied shrugging your shoulders as you picked at your breakfast
your dad chuckled, pulling out a chair across from you “well, you’re finna be eighteen soon that’s gotta feel like something”
you shrugged again “not really”
“you’ve got college applications, pageants, and that journalism program you’re looking into. I’d say you’ve got plenty coming up”
you smiled faintly at him “i know.. i’m just ready to graduate”
your dad nodded before reaching for the newspaper sitting on the counter “your mom was saying something about that debutante ball, too”
you immediately looked up “oh lord please don’t remind me”
before your dad could respond, your mother walked into the kitchen, already dressed and carrying a cup of coffee
“oh no you definitely need a reminder” she said, raising an eyebrow “mom please…”
“i’m serious we need to get things situated”
you groaned, dropping your head onto the table
“what y/n?”
“i’ve heard enough about that ball”
“and your gonna hear more about it,” she said, completely unfazed “the etiquette training and mixers start next week and don’t forget you have a dress to choose, the actual rehearsals to attend, invitations to think about”
“i know mom” “and you need to find an escort”
you paused “an escort?” “yes, an escort”
your dad looked over at you with a small grin “somebody’s gotta walk you in” “i know what an escort is dad”
“i was just making sure” he replied skimming through the news paper
“i’m serious y/n..you need to start thinking about who you want cause back in the day the parents chose for you and i know you don’t want that” your mom said
“i’ll figure it out”
“just because it’s something you don’t wanna do doesn’t mean you can wait until the last minute”
“i’m not”
“you always say that”
“and yet i always do it on time”
your dad chuckled into his coffee, your mother shook her head before continuing
“you’re escort should be somebody you’re comfortable with, someone you trust, someone who knows you well…and not a boyfriend or something”
you stared down at your plate, thinking to yourself
unfortunately , the first person who came to mind was someone you hadn’t spoken to properly in 5 years so you quickly pushed the thought away
“okay” you said “i’ll find somebody”
your mother smiled, satisfied
“good”
you picked up your fork again
“now can we please talk about literally anything else?”
Nah I refuse to believe the jermajesty is toxic allegations are true. He’s going just going through an ego phase for now
listen as much i’d love for him to not be like that, it’s highly likely he is😭😭i mean realistically! he’s a good looking man, in his 20s, from cali, grew up rich, part of one of most influential/talented family and we’ve all seen his following list on instagram (also, he’s a MAN)💀 but aye, imma still write my fics, and appreciate that face card from a distance
ok so recently i was thinking to myself, “do i make reader sound too white?” and “do i make reader sound black enough?”
because honestly, i feel like it’s not always super obvious in my fics that the reader is black obviously, i write reader as black in my head, and i promise y’all i am black
but then i started thinking, “what actually makes a reader sound black without making it feel forced or painfully obvious and stereotypical?”
and that’s something i’ve been trying to figure out with my writing lately…
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: thrill the wall!michael jackson x f!reader
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a super freak—but you’re alright with global popstar michael jackson (inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james)
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, 18+, (p-in-v), use of (name) once, smut and implied sex, creampie, facial, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, semi-public sex (hand-job), mentions of sex toy’s and kinks, multiple orgasms, sex-crazed reader, freaky reader, groupie esc but not rlly, clubbing, drinking, cursing, smoking (all reader) drug usage (not reader), katherine hates us LOL, down bad mike. mentions of religion/repenting but doesn’t go very well, your friends are as wild as reader, yeah this is uhh this is smth. enjoy!
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is obviously inspired by ‘super freak’ by rick james, which has been one of my favourite songs since i was a young teen and instantly thought of michael and the jackson’s when i re-listened to it the other day. this is pretty wild so enjoy!! this a long fic but idk how to find out my word count but strap in LMFAO
She’s a very kinky girl…
Michael wasn’t sure exactly sure how he got here—Tucked into a V.I.P booth at Studio 54, an array of sickly sweet alcoholic beverages sprawled out across a wooden, circular table, music blasting in his ears, and a young lady with minimal clothing on, perched on his lap.
To say he was uncomfortable would be a lie. To the untrained eye—Michael Jackson, the famously shy, timid and gentle man, looked tense and awkward with such a woman atop of him, whispering in his ear, twirling a stray curl at the nape of his neck around her index finger, and skirt hiked up so high her panties were visible to anyone walking by. But, in reality, he was trying his hardest to not let his natural, masculine urges fulfil themselves beneath his black slacks, threatening to get uncomfortably tight.
The lady perched on his lap was you—Dressed in a ridiculously low-cut top, stiletto’s and a mini-skirt, which could’ve easily passed as belt. You were drunk, reeked of cigarettes, and had a perfume that mingled with the stench of tobacco deliciously—A potent vanilla scent that radiated cheapness, yet still intoxicating to say the least.
Michael and his brother’s, excluding his youngest brother, Randy, had decided taking a night off from day-to-day musical business was much needed. That Studio 54 would awaken their spirits, lighten the mood from the gruelling studio sessions, and buzz their energy with an alcoholic beverage that was bursting with an over-poured amount of liquor.
Michael, being the quiet, tentative man he was, at first declined—Rejecting the idea all together. Rather suggesting a movie night, or a late-night walk around the cul-de-sac, before tucking into bed at nine-PM.
His boisterous, reckless brother’s turned that down immediately.
And so, Michael was dragged along the lively streets to Studio 54—Tense, and out of his comfort zone, as his brother’s made passing comments about half-naked women traipsing past, and exchanging mutual excitement for their night of liquor indulgence. He had trailed behind—Scuffing his shoes on the concrete, occasionally kicking a stray stone or beer can, or gazing longingly into the dark sky, studying the dispersing clouds or twinkling stars. Until—
“Whew! And where are you handsome boys off to?”
Michael was interested now.
Your suggestive, drawled tone snapped him out of his self-induced trance, voice a fluid, tempting sound that had his eyes adjusting to the bright neon sign of the cheap, tacky club you stood outside of. His eyes, now accustomed to the light, widened at your frame—Dressed provocatively, and sporting a seductive smile that would send any God fearing man into the deep, dark depths of reckless temptation.
“Mm—mm! Too fine to be walkin’ ‘round lookin’ like that, baby.” Your friend piped up next to you, shorts ridden up her behind so far the curve of her ass cheeks peeked out the bottom as she approached Michael’s brother, Jermaine, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers.
Two of your other friend’s lingered behind you, giggling between hushed whispers, before finally stepping forward to approach each of his brother’s as they stopped in the middle of the street.
“We’re headin’ to Studio 54.” Marlon, Michael’s other brother, was the first to speak, smiling cheekily down at your one friend, who had now placed herself so close to him that he could see every particle of an infamous white powder underneath her nose, “What you pretty ladies doin’ at a club like this?”
“Waitin’ for a handsome bunch a’guys to come save us, of course.” Your friend shot back, licking her lips as she trailed her eyes over Marlon’s frame, “And I think we just mighta found ‘em.”
Jermaine, Jackie and Marlon shared mutual glances—One’s that spoke a thousand words. Yet, Michael knew exactly what they said—“Bingo!”. A look that signified they’d struck pot gold. Michael swallowed thickly—This was his best dream and worst nightmare all in one. Negatively, he had never, ever been with a woman before, intimately. Sure, he’d kissed girls before, but never gone all the way. Not even orally. It pained and embarrassed him, the scrutinising fact often led him into relentless teasing sessions with his brother’s who’d had their fair shares of women—Only furthering their excitement to your group’s presence. But, on the positive side—He was certain with your sensual, hyper-sexual behaviour, he could practice a thing or two. And it certainly helped with how beautiful you were despite your anti-social habits.
“Real quiet back here, handsome.”
Michael jumped—Not out of fear, but surprise, as his eyes landed on your frame right at his feet. Your smile was dizzying—Alluring, magnetic and teasing, a lit cigarette hanging between the plushness as you met his gaze.
“Y’all are from that band, aren’t you?” You questioned, tilting your head at him, “‘The Jackson’s’, right?”
Michael nodded quickly, “Y—Yes, we are.” He managed to squeak out.
You hummed, satisfied with the response as you took in his frame—As stiff as a board, hands twitching at his sides and throat bobbing every few seconds as he gulped at your electrifying closeness. He was clad in a black suit—The dark colour sported across his suit jacket, slacks and shoes, aside from the crisp white shirt that hugged his torso, and the dazzling, white diamond waistcoat that peaked through the layers of his outfit. He looked like a million bucks—And doesn’t want that?
“Hm. I like your music.” You admitted, taking an impossible step closer—Smiling as Michael tensed further, forcing himself to not look anywhere but your eyes, as your pushed-up, exposed cleavage hit his peripheral vision, “Makes me wanna move, y’know? Start dancin’.”
“Y—Yeah? That’s good, tha’s what we were goin’ for.” Michael spoke, voice cracking slightly, his fingers finding the material of his trousers, toying with a loose thread.
“You jus’ released your first solo album, too, didn’t’cha?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“Yes ma’am?” You snorted, furrowing your eyebrows with a dry laugh, “What am I? Your mother?”
Michael’s eyes widened, “S—Sorry! I mean yes, I have. It’s called ‘Off The Wall’.”
“Hm, I heard that too, superstar.” You smiled, tight-lipped, and teasing, “Got some real dirty songs on there, babe.”
Michael’s breath hitched in his throat at your words, eyes blowing wide open, “I—I, n—no, I don—“
“‘Girlfriend’? ‘Rock With You’?” You named, grinning wickedly, “Unless, ‘I wanna see you shake that thang’ means somethin’ else in ‘Get On The Floor’, I’d say you’re a real dirty boy, Michael Jackson.”
Michael gasped softly, lips parting, and then closing, before repeating the movements as words failed him. You laughed loudly, throwing your head back, cigarette dangling dangerously loose between your lips as you shook your head.
“Gotcha there, handsome.” You purred, winking, before taking his clammy hand in your own, “C’mon. I’ll shake my thang for you, if ya’want.”
The kind you don’t take home to Mother…
And that’s how Michael got into this beautiful predicament. Your friends had claimed a brother each—Aside from Jermaine and Jackie, who were happily sharing your one friend, her behind perched on Jackie’s lap, while her long, bare legs traipsed across Jermaine’s thighs, hands covering her skin from both sides. Tito, always the gentlemen, had declined his lady on his lap—But, instead opted for grazing her bare knee, and a hand in her hair as he discussed his music, and band life. Marlon, wasting no time, was too busy pressing kisses to his lady’s neck—The loud sound of her high-pitched giggles filling the room as he grabbed a handful of her behind in his palm.
Michael was still tense and nervous, despite his male instincts screaming at him inside to kiss you, or grab a handful of your ass peeking out from beneath your skirt, or at the least stare at your breasts that were practically in his face—But, he remained stiff. And you noticed.
“Loosen up, superstar. You got a long night ahead a’ya.” You teased, lips brushing against the lobe of his ear, your sticky lipgloss leaving behind a faint residue on the flesh as you spoke, hands threaded through his curls.
“I do?”
You hummed, “I only just got’cha, I don’t plan on lettin’ you outta my claws for a while, handsome.”
Michael couldn’t suppress the heat that flushed his cheeks—The blush blooming across not only own his face, now sporting a shy smile, but also his neck and ears, from your casual compliments.
She will never let your spirits down…
“Hey Mike!”
The sound of Jermaine’s voice over the muffled, booming music forced Michael’s head to peek around your shoulder, your hair dancing over the skin.
“What’d’ya think about meetin’ these lovely ladies after our show tomorrow?”
“No way! Like backstage?” Your friend, whose neck was now littered in lovebites from Marlon’s eager mouth, perked up, swivelling her head around, away from Marlon’s lips, to face Jermaine.
“Yeah, sure, why not?” Jermaine laughed, nudging Jackie who shared the chuckle.
Your friends squealed—Giddy and buzzing with euphoria as you giggled, smirking at the plan bubbling to life.
“Joseph’s gonna kill you.” Marlon cackled, “But, I’m all for it. Would ya like that, sweetie?”
“Uh, yeah! You comin’, right, girl?” Your friend called out to you, eyes wide with hope and anticipation.
“Is coke white? Girl, of course. Wouldn’t want this pretty boy leavin’ with no-one else.” You drawled, turning back to Michael, who swallowed thickly, as you pressed yourself further into his chest, “You’d want me waitin’ for ya afterwards, right? Make you sweatier than you were on that stage?”
Michael’s eyes blew wide open—Forcing a loud laugh out of your throat as your hand released its grip on his hair to glide down his chest.
“You’re so cute, I could just eat you right here.” You whispered, lips dancing over his cheek as you pressed a chaste kiss there, “Swallow you whole.”
“Oh, Lord.” Michael mumbled, eyes squeezing shut, as your teeth grazed along the flesh of his earlobe, before licking a stripe across it to soothe.
“You’re all mine now, Jackson.”
Once you get her off the street…
Los Angeles was buzzing with electricity after their first show of the tour. Fans bustling out of the stadium—singing, dancing, crying from the magnitude of the show. Michael had been top of his game—Providing a perfect performance despite the nerves that wracked through his body.
Nervous for one reason, and one reason only.
He knew you were waiting for him backstage.
You and your friends, dressed similarly to how you had the night before, had been hidden backstage from the brother’s gruelling father—Who would no doubt murder them, especially Michael, if he caught whiff of their secretive plan.
Straight after the final song, and the show had been wrapped up, they would exit the stage as they usually did, clean up, change, shower, the usual routine. And then, once Joseph left to handle his usual business—They would sneak out. Run through the arena, out the back door, and into the night to resume another night of clubbing and sensual closeness,
As Michael’s final song, ‘Don’t Stop Till You Get Enough’ came to a close, and they thanked the fans for their everlasting, unconditional support and love—They belted it off the stage. Jermaine was as fast a hyena—Sprinting to his dressing room, already ridding himself of his jacket and shirt to speed up the process before diving into his shower. Marlon, at a similar speed, raked fingers through his hair, fixing any loose curls, smoothing his edges back to his forehead, and drying his damp forehead, before turning to face a confused, frozen Michael.
“Brother, I suggest you get movin’ if you want that girl tonight.” Marlon quipped, eyeing him up and down, “We ain’t comin’ back for ya if you take too long.”
“Right, right, shoot.” Michael, snapping into reality at Marlon’s words, darted towards his own dressing room—Dragging his jacket from his shoulders, and placing it neatly onto the back of a chair, before fixing himself up.
Within fifteen minutes, the boys were ready.
Jermaine and Jackie had changed clothes completely, whereas Marlon, Tito and Michael remained in their stage clothes—Aside from their jackets, microphones and ties. Michael, as always, had left his bare chest exposed—The top buttons ripped open as he had sensually done on stage, letting his supple, brown skin become bare to the dark night.
Jermaine led the pack of boys through the bustling backstage like a top-secret spy mission—Avoiding any familiar faces, family members or respecting managers, as well as their father, as they crept towards the fire exit.
Marlon, engaging in a conversation only Michael would refer to as ‘degrading’ and ‘dirty’, with Tito, was quickly shut down by Jermaine, who ordered him to ‘Shut his horny ass mouth’
She likes the boys in the band…
“There’s my lil’ celebrities!”
Your words hit his ears first as they burst through the fire exit—Your tantalising, yet sickeningly sweet voice sent excitable shivers down his spine, the nerves washing away instantly as you came into eyeshot. You were stood with your friends, who instantly clung to their respecting men from the night before, with another cigarette between the fingers of your left hand, and a mysterious flask filled with most likely an alcoholic beverage in your right. Michael, albeit not surprised, forced himself to suppress the smile that crept onto his face at your outfit—You were wearing, as usual, a low-cut top, and booty shirts, that hugged your plush behind and thighs as you approached him slowly. But, what got his lips twitching was the pair of Aviator sunglasses that rest upon the bridge of your nose—Covering your eyes as his famous ones usually did.
“Wow, I mean. Tha’s somethin’.” Michael chuckled, his voice breathy and low, just as it was the previous night.
She says that I’m her all time favourite…
“What can I say? You’re my favourite boy in the band, handsome.”
Michael, now fighting the urge to succumb to his usual shyness, finally smiled—Chuckling as you slid a hand down his chest, winking seductively, before taking his hand in your own.
The night was equally, if not more crazed than the night before.
Tonight, a fifth friend joined you, who instantly took a liking to Jermaine—Which left your original friend with Jackie all to herself. Luckily, the two had long dispersed to the dance floor of the high-end, celebrity-filled club the brother’s had dragged you to, and were leaving zero room for Jesus as a Stevie Wonder song boomed around them. Tito and his lady had retreated to the bar for the fifth time that hour—Stocking up on shots and cocktails as they stumbled throughout the club. Marlon had disappeared with his lady within fifteen minutes of getting to the spot—Clambering over one another’s feet as they exited the private booth, mouths connected in a brutal kiss as they ‘went to the bathroom’.
As for you and Michael, you’d managed to get a drink down his throat—And alcoholic at that. And thanks to his nonexistent drinking habits, the young man was already buzzed after one drink and a shot of Tequila, his mouth running wild as his confidence took over, and relaxation took the reigns of his body.
“I’m—‘M just sayin’, Diana Ross is better than—“
“Boy, that woman could murder a puppy in cold blood and you’d find some way to defend her.” You quipped, raising an eyebrow at him, alcohol evident on your breath as you spoke, “Sometimes it’s okay to admit that your little mentor is a shit actress.”
Michael’s mouth fell open at your insulting words, “No, no, she is really good.”
“Real convincing, baby.” You teased, narrowing your eyes his way, “Enough about that old crow.” You ignored his ‘Hey!’, “Any other ladies in your life, Jackson?”
Michael swallowed thickly—Ah, the dreaded question. He’d heard it a lot in his adult life—Is so-and-so his girlfriend? Or had he been intimate before? Or who does he think he’ll marry in 5 years time? All ridiculous, unanswerable questions that left him sweating and nervous—And even more so now that you, as the sexually charged lady you were, were asking such question.
“Uh—Heh, no. No ladies for me.” He admitted, avoiding direct eye contact as he focused on Jackie and your friend bumping and grinding on the dance floor in the distance.
“Hmm. I find that hard to believe, handsome global superstar, Michael Jackson.” You fired back, a delicate, taunting finger tracing down the bare skin of his chest, “You’re tellin’ me you got no one to bump uglies with?”
“Wha—What’s that?”
Michael dipped his head in timidity as you cackled, head thrown back as your body shook with laughter. He knew you weren’t necessarily laughing at him, or his lack of intimate knowledge—But, it didn’t stop his heart hammering in his chest in embarrassment.
“Oh, sweetie, you are just the cutest.” You giggled, your hand travelling swiftly to his face.
Your manicured hands, fingers withholding the smell of cigarettes, cupped his warm cheeks—Forcing his head upwards from where he hung it low in shame. You directed his vision to your own, meeting his avoidant eyes with a gentle nudge of his chin under your thumb—Smirking knowingly down at him from where you perched on his thighs. Michael gulped again—Hands sweating and clammy at his sides as he awaited your next action nervously. He liked how unpredictable you were at times, how you made things lively and unexpected in a fun manner—But, moments like these he shared with you, made him anxious beyond belief. It was as if any alcohol present in his light-weight system dissolved into nothingness the second you got closer, like any viable, intellectual brain cell left in his mind crumbled into mush with every word that left your intoxicating lips.
“I’ll be that lady for you, if ya’want.” You whispered, face a mere few inches away from his own, as your plump, tempting, pillowy lips brushed over his own, noses touching as you pressed yourself closer.
“Y—You would?” He croaked out, cursing himself internally at the crackling of his voice, “But, I’ve never—“
“Then, let me be the first, handsome.”
When I make my move to her room it’s the right time…
Michael was certain he’d never felt anything like this in life.
Being on stage, performing, entertaining, creating world-wide popular songs, meeting fans, dancing—None of it compared to this moment.
He was entranced—His eyes locked on you with every single breath, sound or movement you made. Every crease in your forehead, knitted into your furrowed eyebrows, every flutter of your eyelashes, every parting of your lips, every rock of your hips had his brain short-circuiting a thousand times over.
“Oh, Michael.”
His name fell so easily from your lips it was almost natural—Like it was meant to be there. Meant to be tumbling past your swollen, spit-stricken mouth each time you snapped your hips forwards against his own.
You had made your way to your hotel room swiftly—Stumbling drunkenly into the back of a day-to-day cab, ignoring the way the driver instantly asked for an autograph from him, followed by you demanding he put his foot down before you ditch him without paying—And then clambering into his lap to smash your lips against his own. He quickly learnt you weren’t from Los Angeles at all—That you and your friend’s were on a trip from New York for a week, that clubbing and shopping was mainly on your itinerary. Your hotel was cheaper than he would ever stay at nowadays—Small bedroom, leaky tap and no robes hanging in the closet on arrival. But, considering your behaviour—It was nicer than he was expecting.
You wasted no time on him—Instantly tugging off your shirt and shorts, pushing him back first onto the plush, cotton sheets and straddling his thick, clothed thighs, pressing directly into his crotch. He almost didn’t know what to do with himself—Mind running a thousand miles a minute the second your undergarment clad body came into eyeshot, grinding down onto the ever growing bulge beneath his slacks. He’d never been stiffer—The tent in his boxers reaching its greatest length and height as you rocked against it slowly, hips moving just as languidly as his own on stage. He was transfixed. Completely hypnotised by the way you moved—Hands threaded through your hair, the other cupping a handful of your right, clothed breast through your lacy bra, and hips rolling over him with practiced precision.
And, of course, since Michael had never in his twenty-one years experienced anything quite like this, y’know a deathly attractive, sexually experienced young lady grinding over his hardened, clothed cock, the little whimpers that left his mouth that were miserably suppressed, and had you drooling twice as much—A permanent slick stain pooling into his black slacks, staining the expensive material.
“Fuck, you feel so good already, Jackson.” You gasped as you rolled particularly hard over your throbbing clit, “I wonder how good you’ll feel inside, baby.”
Michael’s eyes shot open—He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but sex? Immediately? Maybe not. I mean, fuck he wasn’t complaining—He’d been looking for some action with the ladies for so long now it almost felt like a distant dream that’d he’d never have. Most women he’d got to know in the industry were older, or married, or just not interested in getting jumbled up in his busy, bustling tour life—But, you? Fuck, you were taking it by the reigns. Literally.
“Oh, God.” He whined, voice broken and ragged as his eyes fluttered shut.
“You want that, baby?” You whispered, leaning down to press your half-bare chest against his own, still clad in his unbuttoned shirt, lips brushing against his ear, “You wanna fuck me, Jackson?”
“Oh, Jesus.” He cried again, chest heaving as you licked a stripe up his neck, before swirling your tongue around the outer ridges of his ear, the sensation sending goosebumps pebbling across the skin of his arms.
“Answer me, handsome.”
“Y—Yes! Yes, yes, please.” He begged, nodding swiftly as his eyes slammed open, meeting your own as you raised your face from his neck.
The infamous, devilish smirk crawled back onto your face before you smashed your lips together—Moan muffled against his mouth as you worked against it. Michael’s breath hitched in his throat as you kissed him—Hands instantly flying to your face, cupping your cheeks sweetly, as he moved his lips against your own. You were ferocious, kissing him so fiercely it nearly sent Michael into overdrive, your hips still rocking against him, increasing your pace.
However, a feeling, one that only Michael had brought himself, crept dangerously up his spine—Lingering deeply in his abdomen as his stiff cock twitched in his boxers.
“W—Wait! Stop, stop.”
You pulled away from the kiss quickly, a string of lewd saliva connecting your swollen lips as his hands, now feeling brave and confident, fell to your hips—Gripping them gently, yet firmly, forcing you to a halt.
“‘M sorry, I was just—God, I almost…”
You giggled again, leaning down to press another deep, extended kiss to his lips—Catching him by surprise. His suspicion only furthered when you pulled away, rising to your knees as you slid your underwear to the side with one hand, and fumbled with his belt buckle with the other.
“Better get to it then, huh?”
She’s never hard to please…
“O—Oh! Oh, my God—Oh, my God, sweetie—Nnhg, I—“
Michael was a mess.
The second your warm, wet, inviting heat engulfed his hard, virgin cock—He was a goner. He was certain the rock of your hips against him, clothed cunt sliding over the ridge of his cock, confined in his slacks, was the best feeling he’d ever felt so far in his adult life. Oh, boy, did he get the shock of his life. And a blissful, ecstatic shock at that. He’d been quivering even when your manicured hand wrapped around his bare dick, after you undressed him—Jerking him slowly in your fist, as you guided his dick towards your entrance. And when he finally slipped inside?—Unprotected at that—He saw stars. He had to fight every submissive, weak urge in his body not to orgasm the second he bottomed out.
And now, you were riding him—Hips bucking back and forth, and up and down, alternating every few minutes or so as you deepened your pleasure. Every rock forward would roll your clit against his pubic bone, the curly, black tufts of hair dragging along your nub deliciously, paired with every bounce up and down, nudging his thick, cock-head against the spot inside you that your toes curling besides his thighs. His hands were gripping your hips with such fervent passion, guiding you along his dick with every drag of your cunt down his length, that you were certain marks indented in the shape of his long, slender fingers would remain in the morning.
“Mmh—Fuck, baby, feels so so good.” You whined, your head thrown back, hair painting your spine as you switched to bouncing up and down, “‘M so fuckin’ close, Michael.”
Michael whimpered softly under his breath, “R—Really? Already? I—I barely even got inside ya?”
“Y’just so big, Michael.” You cried, moans and cries mingling with each word, “So so big, baby.”
Michael panted, a whine mixing with the breathless sound as your seductive, lewd words hit his ears—He had always been so nervous at the thought of sex. Worried about his size, his noises, his faces, his body—Everything. Everything made him anxious. But, your unconditional praise and physical signs of pure, undeniable pleasure sent confidence flooding through him like adrenaline, pumping through his veins.
As if a switch had been flipped—Michael tightened his grip on the plush fat of your hips, and bucked his hips up at an extraordinary pace. You took to it instantly, your body falling slack against him as you let him take control—Thrusting up into your sex like he had rent to pay. Michael grunted, mingling with his usual whiny whimpers, lower lip caught between his lip as he fucked you like a bitch in heat.
Your words were chants—Belting from your throat in high-pitched, breathless cries of electrifying ecstasy as you matched his pace, humping yourself forward on his pubic bone, only pushing you further towards the edge.
“Oh—Oh, Jesus, I—Already? I—Oh!”
Michael was taken by sweet, sweet surprise when you orgasmed—Gasping sharply as his breath caught in his throat, hands twitching at your sides as your drooling sex pulsated and convulsed around him. Quivering and tightening as you creamed deliciously—Head thrown back, eyes slammed shut and mouth hanging open as the lewdest, intimate and most pornographic worthy noises stumbled past your lips involuntarily, as you continued to hump yourself over his dick, that throbbed incessantly in your tight walls.
“W—Wait! Oh, God—Mmh!—Honey, ‘M gonna—Where should I—?”
You didn’t give a response—Still buzzing from your release, you slid off his dick with ease, settling between his legs, and catching his dick, soaked from tip to base in your essence, in your grip, fluidity pumping him.
“All over me, handsome.”
Michael cried out once more at how quick, smooth and easily you switched positions—From riding his cock, to kitten-licking his tip as you jerked him, pushing your breasts up against his shaft. With a particularly sharp flick of your wrist, and a long stripe up the slit of his dick—Michael came with a cry. Dick twitching and throbbing beneath your palm, as hot, thick, salted cum spurted from his dick deliciously—Painting your face, tongue, fingers and chest in his white, sticky release as he panted and writhed beneath you at the overwhelming sensation of his orgasm.
Michael only shuddered as he came down from his delightful high—Whining as you lapped up his cum, drinking up every last drop of his release, from your fingers, to your cheeks, and even taking the head of his cock between your lips, not without a loud, overwhelmed cry from the man beneath you, as you milked him dry.
As you pulled away with a girlish giggle, a dazed, fucked-out expression dancing across your face, and a splatter of his cum decorating your cheekbone—Michael swallowed thickly.
“Did I get it all?”
Michael, hazy himself, let a smile creep onto face, before bursting into laughter himself—What a night.
That girl is pretty wild now…
That night wasn’t the last Michael saw of you.
He did try and dumb your love-making down to a one-night-stand—That maybe you wouldn’t want anything to do with him post-sex. That maybe you just wanted to get your rocks off and leave.
But, when he awoke in your hotel room after that night, the morning sun bursting through the curtains, just to find your side of the bed empty and cold—The worst thoughts hit him. That you were just going to be a one night ordeal.
He sighed, rolling over to face the night-stand with a frown, an unusual sense of rejection and disappointment settling in his chest. Before, his eyes landed on a small business card of the hotel’s laid next to a glass of water and an Aspirin—The words ‘New York was calling me, can’t leave the city without me for too long. Call me though, handsome: (212) 555-****’ read back at him in rushed, sloppy hand-writing, and a smudged lipstick kiss mark in the top right corner.
That girl’s a super freak…
Michael called you the second he got home—Running, hungover and fatigued, ignoring his brother’s confused voices, through the house and up the stairs, towards his respecting bedroom. The number you left was dialed instantly—His heart hammering in chest as he let the phone ring …and ring ….and ring. Until—
“Someone’s eager, huh, pretty boy?”
He smiled.
The kind of girl you read about… In new wave-magazine’s.
That girl is pretty kinky…. That girl’s a super freak…
The next few weeks were a whirlwind of blissful sex—To put it plainly.
Michael couldn’t, for the life of him, spend any longer than 48 hours apart from you—Or not inside you. He’d learnt more about sex in the last three weeks then he ever had in any out-dated sex-education book from the local library, or from his brother’s exaggerated stories. He felt like a God, like not only was he talented vocally, but now sexually. Like all his shy, reserved nature had dissolved into a glowing, intimate love—Taking over his body whenever he was blessed with your presence.
On the bonnet of your car, in the bathroom of a club, at a ridiculously expensive hotel he paid $7,500 for for just one night, in his studio—Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere had been christened—Missionary, cowgirl, from behind, reverse cowgirl, prone bone, from the side, mating press, butterfly—Fucking everything. He was animalistic, and was absolutely certain his dick was going to go limp and drop off with the amount of sex he was having. And if it wasn’t penetration, it was the kinkiest things he’d ever seen—Vibrators, whips, cock rings, handcuffs, whipped cream, gags, blindfolds—The lot. All casual and small-scale to you, but utterly mind-blowing to Michael, who had never been so enthralled in his entire life by the whole ordeal. But, the self-appreciation, confidence and glow that radiated off him had even his brother’s jealous, despite their luck with women. Michael truly had it all right now—And he was basking in it.
I’d really love to taste her… Every time we meet…
But, even with every sex position crossed off the list, multiple orgasms pulled from one another each night, and every inch of skin licked, sucked and kissed—Michael’s favourite activity was to devour your pussy. Get on his knees, part your legs, and spend hours between them with the tongue of an angel—Dragging countless mind blowing orgasms from your shaking body with effortless ease. And even with his talent for cunnillingus, Michael enjoyed it. Correction—He adored it, and begged on his knees, bordering on tearing up to eat you out, to taste your glorious cunt, and moaning loudly into your sex every time his tongue slipped between your folds.
He was obsessed. And exceptionally talented at it.
Which everyone at Hayvenhurst unfortunately found out.
Michael had the bright (Not!) idea to finally invite you over to his family home—To meet his mother, his sister’s and see where he made history. Unfortunately for Michael, you weren’t really the ‘Bring home to mama’ type of girl. He knew this, and even with his brother’s frantic disapproval, he did it anyway.
And it was almost laughable when you met Katherine Jackson, Michael’s mother. She had been ecstatic when Michael announced he was bringing a lady friend home, someone he’d been seeing for weeks now, someone he really liked, and wanted his loving, Jehovah’s Witness, might I add, mother to meet the special girl in his life.
However, pretending to be someone you’re not was not your style—Instead, you showed up just as you would to …well, the club. Stiletto’s, a mini-dress that stopped at your upper thighs, long, manicured nails, hair grazing your ass, makeup to a T, and bracelet’s draping along your arms, tattoo’s and piercing’s in clear show.
“Hi, Mrs Jackson!” You beamed, pushing your sunglasses, one’s that Michael had bought you, up your face to rest on your head, your hand extended out to the woman before you, “So nice to finally meet you.”
You, and Michael for that matter, chose to ignore the way Katherine’s jaw fell to the floor, her eyes trailing over your frame, clad in provocative clothing, blasphemous tattoo’s and piercing’s, and chewing blue-raspberry flavoured chewing gum obnoxiously.
“I—Uh, Michael, I—“
“Mother, this is (Name).” Michael spoke, attempting to clear the air as his mother fought to find the right, and respectful words, as you dropped your hand, which had clearly been rejected, “Y’know, the girl I was tellin’ you about.”
“I’m so glad to finally meet the mama of the man who’s rocked my world, ain’t tha’ right, Mikey?”
And that he did. As Michael ushered you away, whispering a quick apology to his mother who stood, frozen in time, at the doorway, as he hurried you up the stairs, away from his bewildered mother—He knew deep-down he was fucked, like truly and clearly. But, the way you shimmied your dress higher up your ass as you climbed the stairs, revealing to the man behind you that you weren’t, in fact, wearing panties, with a wink as you scurried up the stairs—He couldn’t find himself to care.
And of course, the second Michael got you into his room, his hands were on you like it was his last day on Earth. Like you were his cure of a deadly disease. Lips on your neck, hands groping your behind, fingers threaded through your hair, stiffened cock rolling against the skin of your bare thigh—He was insatiable. Like he needed to be in your skin to fully be satisfied.
Alas, he settled for gliding his eager tongue between your folds instead—Lapping at your clit, sucking and slurping the aching nub between his lips, and two fingers curling inside your center, abusing the sweet spot that made you cry out.
Those same cries that echoed throughout the mansion—Unfortunately for Michael.
“I—I—Are you serious? Is that really the kind of girl he’s involved with?” Katherine heaved, a hand clutching at her pearls around her neck, as her three son’s crowded round her panicked, shocked frame in the living room.
Marlon exchanged a knowing, slightly amused glance with Jermaine and Jackie who rubbed comforting circles along their mother’s back as she welled up in tears.
“Where’d he even meet this girl?”
Marlon couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him—Snorting as he covered his face with his hand at the irony that he effectively got Michael into this mess.
“What’s so funny?” Katherine questioned, eyebrows furrowed up into her forehead.
“Nothin’, nothin’, mama, I—“ Jermaine, pursed his lips together to suppress his own laughter, before letting out a shaken breath as he composed himself, “We met her and her friends at the club.”
“You boys are involved with those kinda girls too?” Katherine exclaimed, anger painting across her face.
“Way to go, asshole.” Jackie hissed, shaking his head, shoving Jermaine’s arm.
“Oh, my Goodness.” Katherine heaved, lip wobbling, “I can’t believe this! She’s a—She’s a …Goodness, I shouldn’t say this but—“
“Oh! Oh, Michael!”
…
“What on Earth was that—?”
“Michaelllll! Oh, baby, yeah—Mmmh!—Right there, big daddy!”
…
Marlon, Jackie and Jermaine’s eyes blew straight out of their head—Straightening up and freezing as the sound of your blissful, extravagantly loud moans rang out throughout the house. Marlon’s lip quivered, fighting a roar of laughter that threatened to spill from his mouth—If only it wasn’t for his tensed mother, now shaking with fury.
“Am I hearing what I think I’m—“
“Yeah! Yes! Yes! I’m cummin’ on your tongue, baby! Oooh, yeeees—Nnh!”
Silence.
The room downstairs stilled—No-one spoke a word even when the obvious creaking of Michael’s wooden bed, the frame slamming against the wall followed suit, echoed throughout the house in the deafening silence. Katherine, mortified and stunned, shook her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek as she clenched her fists so hard the knuckles turned white, before gritting her teeth as she spoke—
“She’s a freak.”
She’s alright, she’s alright… That girl’s alright with me…
Michael managed to redeem himself with his mother by never uttering your name or defacing the house with your presence ever again—Apologising profusely and repenting at church for the next week, reciting confessions and attending bible study. All the while fucking you in the back of your car straight afterwards. It was the thought that counted, right?
Rightfully so, his brother’s hounded him relentlessly with questions—Probing him for answer’s about his relation to you, your intentions with him, and where this relentless sex would lead you.
“I don’t know, okay? She’s not my girl, but I don’t think she’s seein’ anyone else—“
“What do you mean ‘you think’?” Jackie cut in, a confused expression plastered across his face as he sat across from him at the studio, “You’re not sure?”
“No, I am sure.” Michael quickly defended.
“You didn’t sound like it, Mike.” Tito added, shaking his head, “What if she has …y’know, has somethin’?”
“I think we’d know by now as he’d be walkin’ around with his hand by his junk every five minutes.” Jermaine butted in, smiling to himself.
“Or he did have somethin’ and he’s already got rid of it.”
“I don’t have anythin’!” Michael exclaimed, growing agitated, “And neither does she. She’s not that kinda girl.”
Marlon exploded into laughter, clutching his stomach as he roared, “‘Not that kind of girl’? Mike, c’mon now. Just look at where we met them!”
“Don’t even start with me, Marlon, you’re still seein’ her friend, are you not?”
“Well, yeah—“
“So, stop houndin’ me ‘cause you’re not gettin’ like it I am.”
The room erupted into ‘Ooh!’’s and ‘Whoa!’’s as Michael fired back at Marlon with swift, precise confidence—Rolling his eyes as Marlon clapped his hands together in blissful surprise, and Jackie jostled him back and forth by the shoulder.
“Look who’s got that pussy confidence! You’re like a changed man, little bro’!” Jermaine roared, smile wide and bright as he watched Michael shrug Jackie’s hand from his shoulder.
“Enough. She’s a special girl, ‘n I like her, and she likes me, and tha’s all there is to it.” Michael responded calmly, expression brooding and irritated as his brother’s hounded him.
“That and she’s probably a groupie.”
“‘Maine, you’re such an asshole, man.” Tito chuckled, “Alright, Mike, as long as y’sure.”
“I am sure. I’m very sure about her.” Michael responded, letting a small smile crawl onto his face, “She’s alright with me.”
She’s a very special girl… From her head down to her toe nails…
Yeah, she’ll wait for me at backstage with her girlfriend’s… In a limousine…
New York was sensational—The crowd was the loudest so far, cheering at such a decibel that Michael had ringing in his ears for ten minutes post-show as he rid himself of his sweaty stage clothes, rushing into the shower, fixing his hair and slipping into another bedazzled suit, just as Jermaine pushed open his dressing room door.
“They’re outside—You ready?”
Like clockwork with each show—You were waiting for him.
This time, after Katherine forbade you and your friends to even step so much of a toe into the arena, Michael had arranged for a limousine to await him and his brother’s by the back entrance once he’d finished the show.
With a fix of his tie, a ruffle of his curls and a nod to himself in the mirror—Michael jogged out of the dressing room, following hot on Jermaine’s tail as they raced throughout the bustling backstage, apologising to staff members, and engineers, as they barged past—Shamelessly eager to reach you.
When the driver, finding it hard to mask his irritated expression, opened the door to reveal the chaos you’d already ensued—Michael couldn’t help but laugh.
You were straddling your friend, pouring champagne directly into her mouth, your dress hiked up your thighs so high, the plush curve of your ass was visible to every brother that stood in the doorway of the limo—Watching as your other friends squealed, taking shots of their own, and turning up the music that blared throughout the car, dancing and singing loudly.
“Mikey!” You squealed, shoving the bottle into your friend’s hand, who took it willingly, bringing it to her lips once more, as you scurried to the door.
You leant past Jermaine and Jackie who were directly at the door, grabbing Michael’s hand and dragging him into the car. Michael made a quiet noise—One of shock and surprise as you ushered him into the bustling mayhem, ears now having to adjust to the way your friends squealed and screamed as his brother’s followed suit.
“Let’s get this party started, ladies!” Marlon, of course, exclaimed, grabbing an unopened champagne, shaking it violently, releasing his thumb from the bottle head, and spraying the room in the bubbly liquid, basking in the cries of excitement that radiated from the limo.
As the driver slammed the door shut aggressively, muffled curses muttered under his breath as he retreated to the driver’s seat, Michael soon released what he was so annoyed about.
But, when you pushed him into the leather seat, straddled his hips, wrapped your arms around his neck, and smashed your lips together in a feverish kiss—He suddenly found it hard to understand what the driver could be so irritated at?
This was the life.
Three’s not a crowd to her she says…
The ride to the conference center was a long one—Traffic post-concert was horrific, all thanks to the Jackson’s. But, they daren’t care in this moment.
Jackie had a handful of ass as his lady shook her behind directly in his face at the music, laughing as he repeatedly smacked her bare cheeks, her dress pushed up her hips. Tito was locking lips with his lady, a slow, intimate kiss that had been occurring the second he entered the car. Jermaine was pouring champagne into Marlon’s mouth, an arm around one of your friends, before Marlon sprayed the champagne over your other friend’s chest—Before, licking the residue directly from her pushed-up, exposed cleavage, earning himself cheers and squeals of laughter and joy.
Tucked into the corner of the limo, hands roaming places they probably shouldn’t in a car filled with his brother’s and your friend’s, lips one another’s and whispered promises, was you and Michael.
“‘M sad you’re gonna leave me.” You pouted, a hand twirling a strand of his Michael’s curls at the nape of his neck between your fingers.
“‘M just goin’ to do a couple interviews, baby, tha’s all.” Michael reassured, tucking a loose lock of your hair behind your ear, “I’ll be all yours for the night afterwards. And every night following.”
You giggled sweetly, “Y’so soppy, y’know that?”
“Only for you, darlin’.”
You hummed, smiling softly as you leant down to capture his lips in your own—Moaning softly into his mouth as his hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, radiating a thumping heat. Michael’s mouth moved slowly against your own—Occasionally pulling back to bite your bottom lip, suck on it, or let you press kisses to his jawline, and the corner of his mouth. Just as your mouths connected once again, your tongue swiping past his lower lip to swirl against his own—Michael felt a familiar, nimble hand crawl down his front.
His breath hitched in his throat as your hand, precise and slow, slipped down his front, stopping at his crotch to gently wrap your hand around the length of him beneath his trousers—Your palm enveloping around his half-hard dick, now stiffening more under your grasp.
“Baby!” Michael gasped, muffled against your lips, his eyes shooting open to observe his surroundings.
Luckily, everyone was still immersed in their own world—Kissing, touching, drinking, dancing, completely focused on themselves as your hand began jerking him through his trousers. Michael’s head fell forward, lolling against your forehead as he panted against your lips, eyes fluttering shut, not before he caught glance of your wicked smirk.
Your hand moved slowly, tantalisingly and dangerously—Teasing him with each half-stroke of your fist around his cock, now drooling with pre-cum into his boxers.
“S—Shoot, baby, that feels s’good.” Michael whispered, pressing a soft, quick kiss to your lips as he talked.
“Letting me jerk y’pretty dick with all my friends and your brother’s right behind us, but y’won’t say ‘Shit’? Y’so cute, Mike.” You taunted, giving him a particularly hard squeeze.
Michael couldn’t suppress the noise that left his mouth, that was instantly captured by your lips—Cutting off the whine before it filled the room. Thankfully, the way your friend was screaming as Marlon nuzzled his face between her breasts managed to cover Michael’s noise easily.
“Baby—Oh, God, love, ‘M gonna—“
“Shhh. Just take it.” You whispered, lips brushing against his, before smushing them together as he twitched beneath your palm.
Michael came with quiet, high-pitched whines that you swallowed up—Kissing him ferociously as he released, eyes rolled to the back of his head as your hand sped up pace to prolong his orgasm. You kept going, even as he whimpered at the overstimulation, before his shaking hand pulled yours away, now glistening with a faint essence that painted across his black slacks. Luckily for Michael, the bulk of his warm cum decorated his boxers underneath, only leaving behind a subtle, invisible to the naked eye, dampness on his slacks as his release soaked the material.
“You’re evil.” Michael panted, shaking his head as you giggled.
His breath hitched as you brought your palm up your mouth—Licking a lewd, sensual stipe from the bottom, to the tip of your middle finger, the faint taste of his salty release lingering on your tongue as it lolled back into your mouth, with a devilish smirk.
“You love it, Jackson.”
The car finally rolled to a stop, the brakes slamming hard against the concrete, sending your friend, who was still grinding against Jackie’s crotch, flying to the floor, scuffing her knees on the plastic flooring, earning herself a handful of laughs as she giggled drunkenly.
The door slid open, and the instantaneous blinding flashes of cameras, and screams from fans and reporters flooded the limo. Your friends ducked, hiding their faces from the relentless cameras, as they crawled towards you, and out of view shot.
Marlon, finding the whole secretive ordeal hilarious, exited first—Taking the attention off the multiple bottles of champagne that rolled out of the car and onto the floor, the music that blared out into the street, and the dangerously obvious bag of white powder your friend had stupidly left on the seat next to were Jackie was previously sat. He addressed the reporters and thanked the fans as Michael rose to his feet.
“Hey.”
He turned, eyes finding your own as your friends clambered behind you, snorting and howling with laughter at the whole experience, as you met his gaze—
Room 714, I’ll be waiting…
Michael nodded at your words, revealing your whereabouts at the hotel later, smiling softly as he leant down to press a soft kiss to your lips, the pillowy plushness lingering on your own as he head for the door.
“Be good.”
“Never.”
Michael hated these conferences—Despised them actually. The reporters and interviewers didn’t actually care about their music, or his career, or their next steps—No. They only cared about the drama. The juicy gossip of their personal lives, women, industry feuds and affairs.
Marlon and Jermaine were, luckily, doing most of the talking. Albeit a bit more sluggish and slurred than usual due to the sheer amount of champagne they’d consumed in the thirty minute drive to the conference centre. Michael was thankful—As his mind was on a complete other planet.
He shifted in his seat, swallowing thickly as his eyes landed on a camera pointing right at him, as a blossoming, warm blush crept up his cheeks as his drying, yet still sticky, release rolled against his skin from his boxers. The memory of your hand, swift and precise, moving with ease, stroking his hard cock beneath his slacks, mouth against his own, nipping against the skin of his lips, had him fighting the urge to stiffen once again.
His mind soon drifted to a similar place.
The idea of you waiting for him, just as you promised, at your hotel for the night. It led him to think maybe you were in a matching lingerie set, laying on your side on the bed with your hair up. Or maybe you were draped in a silk robe, bent over with your hand already between your legs, deliciously impatient to feel him. Or maybe you were—
“Michael?”
The sound of a reporters confused voice pulled him quickly from his sensual daydream—Throat running dry as his eyes darted around the room, checking, impossibly, that no one could’ve possibly read his mind.
“Sorry?”
“I asked if you have anyone special in your life, like your brother’s do?” A tall reporter asked, tilting his head as he awaited his answer.
Michael glanced over to his brother’s, who were suppressing their laughter—Assholes. They’d deliberately baited him into this. Michael wasn’t a liar—But certainly didn’t want to tell the whole truth. He wasn’t ashamed of you, of course not—Why do you think he brought you around his faithful mother who was obviously going to reject you? But, the tabloids would run a thousand miles and back if they knew shy, bashful, gentle Michael Jackson was fucking a girl of the night.
“I—Uh, yeah. Yeah I do.” Michael responded, his voice dropping to his famous soft, breathless tone.
“You do? Anymore you can tell us about her? What’s she like? Is she a celebrity?” The man pressed, instantly jotting Michael’s latter words down into a pad of paper as he spoke.
“Uh, no, but she’s, uh …She’s a real special girl.” Michael spoke, unable to hide the genuine smile that crawled up his face.
“Oh, she’s special, alright.” Marlon quipped, earning himself a pinch of his thigh under the table from Tito.
“Special? What does that mean, Michael?” The reporter queried further, cocking an eyebrow as he scribbled.
“It means she’s great, real good fun—She’s super.”
“A super freak.”
Michael was thankful Marlon uttered those words quieter this time, more so under his breath—But, he still heard them, and still shot him a look that could kill through his famous Aviators. If anyone in this room, reporter, fan, interviewer, family, had heard that—Michael was certain his mother would lock him in the house and never let him see the sun again, as well as getting hounded left, right and centre by the tabloids.
Alas, he was even more grateful when the interview finally concluded—The still drunken Marlon stumbled out of the conference center and into the back of another limousine, this time without the cocaine, champagne and half-naked women, after taking ahold of fan’s hands, kissing their cheeks and taking elaborate pictures for the paparazzi.
As soon as the car whirred off into the night, following the direction of your previous limo—Michael sighed, ignoring the sound of Marlon singing concerningly badly along to a popular song on the radio, as he dreamt of his night coming forth.
Special lady—Here he comes.
When I get there, she’s got incense, wine and candles… It’s such a freaky scene…
Michael’s eyes were nearly half-hanging out of his head when he pushed the door to the bedroom of your hotel room open.
“Welcome back, handsome.”
All the sensual ideas Michael had conjured up in his head of how’d you’d be posed in the bedroom during his interview was nothing like the one he was witnessing right now.
You were laid on your side, just as he’d imagined, but instead of draped in a silk robe or a matching set—You were completely bare. Perky breasts, pebbled nipples, curved waist, and parted legs to reveal your glistening sex were all on joyous display—Your bottom lip caught between your legs as you shuffled your leg further to the side, your pretty pussy lips sliding further apart to reveal your drooling entrance, clenching around nothing. Surrounding the dimly lit room was burning candles, erupting the room into a sensual, amber glow that bounced off your glistening skin, as well as an dizzyingly beautiful scent of musky incense that danced into the thick, tense air, and two glasses of Merlot on the nightstand, one already half drank.
“‘M special, huh?”
Michael swallowed thickly, eyes locked on your naked frame as he traipsed slowly into the room, chest rising and falling quickly as his dick hardened rapidly beneath his soiled boxers.
“Mm-hm.” He affirmed, nodding his head as he finally reached you, dropping to his knees between your parted legs, “You’ real special, baby.”
“Yeah? And ‘m real super?” You added, lifting your arched foot to rest upon his shoulder, curling your pedicured toes around his shoulder blade.
“Mhm, yeah, baby. My super freak.” Michael spoke, voice drawled as his eyes transfixed on your soaking cunt, completely checked out of the conversation as his brain went short circuited at the sweet scent of your sex filling his nostrils.
“Oh! A freak, huh, baby? Is that what’cha think of me?” You teased, giggling as his hands slowly wrapped around your ankle, clad in gold jewellery.
Michael hummed, bringing the skin of your foot to his mouth, pressing kisses up your ankle, “Yeah, darlin’, yer s’kinky.”
You laughed, tipping your head back as you watched him flutter his eyes shut as he pressed hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses up your leg, trailing up your calves, to your thighs, humming into your skin at the scent of your lotion melting into your flesh.
“Kinky, huh?” You tilted your head to the side, voice dropping an octave, “Y’not so innocent yourself, Jackson.”
“Don’t care.” Michael mumbled against your skin, licking a stripe up your inner thigh as he neared where you needed him most.
A quiet, almost inaudible moan tumbled past your parted lips as Michael nuzzled his face between your parted legs—Nose and plump lips smushing into your sex, now glistening with your arousal.
“Don’t care when I have you, baby.”
Your chest heaved as he licked a stripe up your sex—Collecting your intoxicating essence along the twitching muscle, as he wrapped his lips around your clit swiftly. Your back arched, your hips jerking into his mouth, as your hand flew to his hair for support, your fingers tangling into his curls.
“The sweetest, most special, most super freak I’ve ever known, baby.” Michael admitted, his voice low and deep as his fingers swiped through your folds, before his index and middle slid inside your tightening cunt, filling you up with a gasp, “And all mine.”
You giggled, head shaking as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, wetting the flesh, before reaching behind you. Michael’s eyes followed you intently, his fingers twitching inside you, as he watched you fumble with a hidden item behind your back.
An lit-up, excitable smirk painted his lips as you dangled a daring pair of pink, fluffy handcuffs between your manicured digits, and a pair of your panties, ones that had been decorated into your arousal from watching him cum in his pants earlier, between the other, meant to be stuffed into his mouth when you slid down onto him later.
Michael shook his head with a laugh, curling his fingers to hit the sweet spot inside you, earning himself a gasp, and a devilish giggle, before you grasped his jaw in your hands and pulled him down for a feverish kiss. He smiled back into it, as, just as he loved,—
contains: 18+, mdni!, p in v, unprotected sex wrap yo will don’t be silly, size kink if you squint, big dick randy, fwb, verydom randy
notes: “ppl writing them toxic fics abt the wrong brother” @jermajestysbaby after seeing Randy Jrs tweets
earlier in the day you posted a risqué picture of yourself on your instagram story and of course everyone liked it and filled your dms with compliments, fire emojis, and thirsty desperate men but you were waiting for a certain someone to see it…Randy
you said in bed doomscrolling on tiktok when your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the notification and a very pleased smirk comes across your face
rjacksonjr liked your story
suddenly a call came to your phone showing the contact “rj” your smirk grew wider
“got his ass”
…
a knock was heard at the door and you walked towards it, your house shows making noise skidding across the floor
you untied your robe and then opened your front door and there he ways
“long time no see” you purred, leaning against the doorframe, he looked down at you and bit his bottom lip “hey stranger” he murmured, taking a slow step past you and into the apartment
“how you been?” you asked closing the door and leaning your back against it, he stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets “good, you?” he replied
the two of you stared at each before crashing your lips together, you wrapped your arms around your neck and he lifted you off your feet
…
“fuck Randyyy!”
you screamed into the pillow Randy had your face pinned against
his fingers were tangled deep in your hair, holding your head firmly in place, while his other hand pressed heavy against the small of your back, holding your hips perfectly pinned beneath him as he repeatedly pounded into you from behind
the heavy sound of skin slapping against skin and his ragged breath filled the dimly lit bedroom
“ss’good fuck!” you gasped out, grabbing the sheets tightly in both fists
“you knew exactly what you were doing when you put that post up, didn't you?” Randy huffed, skin slick with sweat as the bed frame creaked in time with every deep, heavy thrust
“maybe...” you gasped out, barely able to form words over the intense sensation filling you up
“maybe’ my ass” he muttered, letting out a sharp breath as he pulled out just to thrust even deeper, hitting that exact spot that made your thighs tremble uncontrollably “you wanted me right here, say it”
“Randy—“
“say it” he commanded, burying his dick deep inside you, kissing your cervix and then rolling his hips
“wanted you” you cried out, repeatedly curling your toes “i wanted you right here—fuck!”
hearing you admit it broke whatever restraint he had left, speeding up into a furious, unyielding pace his fingers bit into your hips, holding you pinned right where he wanted
“you like playing games, huh” Randy rasped out, his chest as he pulled out just enough to reposition, he grabbed you by the hips, flipped you onto your back, and dragged you down to the edge of the bed
he hoisted your legs up, throwing them over his broad shoulders, he pinned your wrists above your head with one hand, locking them against the mattress
“Randy—“ “hold on” he groaned, staring down at you with blown out pupils
he slammed back into you, filling you completely in one hard thrust. you let out a loud, high pitched gasp, your toes curling as he set a rapid pace
“look at me” he commanded, his voice tight with exertion
you forced your eyes open, breathless and dizzy, instantly locking onto his gaze. Randy’s face was flush with heat, he relentlessly pounded into you, driving you deeper into the mattress with every stroke. the bed frame frantically rocking and squeaking
“you wanted to show off for the internet?” he muttered, his thumb tracing over your wrist as he kept you pinned, his thrusts turning fast and short “you think any of those soft-ass niggas in your dms could fuck you like this?”
“No— fuck, Randy, no!” you cried out, your back arching off the bed as your vision blurred. you couldn't even keep your hips still, every time you tried to pull back he used his grip on your legs to pull you right back down onto him
“that’s it…take that shit” he grunted, feeling your inner muscles clamp down tightly around him. he let go of your wrists, slamming both palms flat on either side of your head as he picked up the pace, driving you straight over the edge into a breathless, trembling finish
“oh my god! Randy! please!”
you couldn't even finish the sentence before he set a brand new pace. he hooked his arms beneath your knees, shoving your legs straight up into the air and folding you completely in half, letting him drive deeper than before, hitting that sensitive spot with accuracy that made your whole body shudder
“please what?” he said, staring down at you as he pounded flush against you “you thought we were finished?”
a loud, piercing scream tore from your throat as another intense wave of pleasure surged through you. you reached up desperately, your fingers digging deep into the muscles of his back, your nails dragging down his warm, sweat slick skin
Randy grunted at the sting, his jaw clenching tightly as the pain only seemed to fuel him, driving his hips forward with even more force
“fuck you’re so tight” he rasped out, his chest heaving as he held your legs pinned high in the air, using the leverage to completely run through you
“oh my god you’re fucking so good” you sobbed out, your voice raspy and broken as your head thrashed against the pillows. you couldn't stop the sharp red lines your nails were leaving down his shoulders, but he didn't care, he just tightened his grip, keeping you locked in place
every time you thought you reached your limit, he pushed you past it, the relentless rhythm driving you completely out of your mind until you were clutching onto his back for dear life, screaming and sobbing his name
“don't stop— Randy! fuck! don't stop!”
your nails dug deeper into the meat of his back, drawing dark red lines down his shoulder blades, but the pain only made him snap. Randy let out a rough, guttural growl, his teeth grazing over the curve of your neck as he buried his face into your skin, his hips snapping forward in a fast, frantic rhythm that didn't leave room for you to catch a single breath
your legs were trembling high in the air, held fast by his broad shoulders, your hips rising off the mattress to meet every single heavy, slick thrust
the force of him was relentless, running straight through you until your vision blurred with tears and all you could do was clutch his back and scream his name
you felt the tight, overwhelming coil build in your stomach all over again…harder, hotter, completely out of control
“Randy— I'm gonna—“
“go ahead” he grunted, his fingers digging into your thighs, locking you down “cum on my dick”
your body completely gave in, your inner walls clamping down and throbbing on on his dick in violent, shivering waves
feeling you cum completely undone around him broke whatever thread of restraint Randy had left. he let out a low, heavy groan, and pinned himself against you as his own body went rigid, spilling all his warm cum himself inside you while you both clung to each other
…
“hold still damnit”
you were sitting crisscross on the edge of the sink, in Randy’s oversized shirt. Randy sat on the closed toilet lid in front of you, his back turned, shoulders slouched forward as he rested his elbows on his knees
“i am holding still” Randy grumbled, though his back muscles were flexed tight
you gently dabbed cold water and antibacterial soap over the red lines crisscrossing his shoulder blades. the moment the cloth hit the fresh scratches, Randy flinched, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his teeth as his shoulders jerked upward
“stop moving” you whispered, trying not to smile as you pressed the cloth down again “you weren’t complaining thirty minutes ago”
“thirty minutes ago you weren't trying to skin me” he muttered, turning his head slightly to glare at you over his shoulder “look at what you did to me woman” “you asked for it” you pointed out, wiping the cloth down to his lower back
he stayed quiet for a moment, letting the warmth of the washcloth soothe the sting, before leaning his head back until it rested against your hip and tilting his face up to look at you “next time, keep your hands on the sheets”
Thank you @babyydolllyyy for the taaag I LOVE these 🤍
what are 5 things that are always in ur bag?
1. Gisou Sticky Toffee lip gloss + Rituals hand lotion
2. Hair brush (if it fits)
3. Lip liner (usually Cappuccino NYX)
4. Wallet + keys
5. AirPods (need new ones desperately)
H.M: depends where I am going but often times I take spf with me or my pencil case if I’m going to uni or a book if I’m going to the park and PERFUME I never leave without perfume even tho I spray myself before I leave I’m just addicted to chemicals lol
tags (no pressure): @prosperousprophet @serendipityepiphany @blondexdoll @ohdeergirl
“wake up baby, wake up” your boyfriend Marlon whispered in your ear gently shaking you awake “what is it Marlon” you mumbled sleepily, rubbing your eyes
“i want some” he purred softly, giving you a kiss on your jaw while slowly pulling you’re panties off with only two fingers
you let out a drowsy groan, barely able to keep your eyes open “what time is it?” you muttered looking towards the window “barley seven am baby” he replied as his fingers began to gently brushed against your pussy lips
“somebody’s gonna hear” you say as you watch him make his way down between your legs, he paused just for a second, looking up at you, his mustache brushing against your inner thigh “i’ll be quick ..just be quiet f’me”
his hands slipped under your knees, lifting and spreading them gently as he settled into place. you let out a soft sigh, your head heavy on the pillow, still very sleepy
slowly, deliberately, his tongue finally made contact, lapping your pussy up with unhurried strokes
“fuck..” you whimpered softly, one of yours hand reached down blindly, resting on the top of his head, lazily guiding him closer
“that’s it baby” he murmured against you, his voice vibrating right against your skin
he began swirling his tongue with a pressure that made your hips instinctively twitch “oh my gosh Marlonnn” you whine
he paused for just a second, lifting his head slightly, lips glistening in the as he looked up at you
“i know you're still sleepy baby” he whispered "but i need you to keep it down” you looked down at him and nodded “okay daddy” you whispered back
he smirked and latched back onto your pussy, you let out a soft gasp, your thighs trembling as you tried to stay quiet for him
he didn't slow down, his tongue was slicking over your clit in slow, gentle laps that grew wetter with every second. the soft sounds of his mouth working against you filled the room, a heavy, sloppy rhythm that left no doubt about how thoroughly he definitely was taking his time with you
a broken whimper slipped past your lips as his lips and tongue combined drove you crazy
he used one hand to keep your thigh pinned gently back, giving himself full access as he buried his face deeper and deeper while swirling his tongue in agonizing circles that had you biting your lip just to keep from crying out
“look at the mess you're making” he murmured huskily against your skin, not stopping for even a breath as his lips dragged over you
his tongue finally pushed you over the edge. your breath hitched sharply and you let out a muffled whimper as your hips bucked weakly against his mouth “fuck fuck fuck daddy m’gonna cum!”
you squeezed your eyes shut, fingers tightening in his hair while the intense wave rolled through you, leaving your body heavy, warm, and thoroughly spent
Marlon held you steady through every last spasm, his lips staying pressed soft and firm against you until your orgasm finally finished
he used his tongue and lapped up away every trace of the wet mess he’d made, his mustache lightly brushing your sensitive skin until you were completely clean
satisfied, he pulled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling back up the mattress. he pressed a long, soft kiss to your forehead, his chest warm against your back as he pulled you close and wrapped a heavy arm around your waist
“you did so good baby” he whispered softly against the back of your neck
exhausted and completely satisfied, the heavy fog of sleep rolled right back over you. nestled against his chest, listening to his breathing, you drifted right back off into a deep slumber
…
you and Marlon sat side by side at the dinner table with the rest of his siblings
“are we gonna discuss elephant in the room” Jermaine said with a mouth full of food, pointing his fork toward Marlon
“what elephant?” Marlon asked his eyes looking up from his plate “the elephant being that this is technically your second meal of the morning” Jackie said nonchalantly before eating a spoonful of grits
“what are you talking about” Marlon asked scrunching his face up in confusion
the brothers exchanged looks before looking directly at you, you looked up from your plate, you immediately felt your face grow hotter
the camera wobbled slightly before the picture finally came into focus and slowly zoomed out, revealing little you sitting in the middle of the couch in a wrinkled pink babydoll dress, your little legs swinging back and forth. you had a half-eaten muffin clutched in one hand
“mommy… mommy, i’m done”
the camera shook as LaToya laughed from behind it “you don’t want anymore?” “no, i done” LaToya stepped into frame just enough to take the muffin from your hands “okay, give it to mommy”
she grabbed a baby wipe and carefully cleaned your sticky fingers before walking off camera to throw the napkin away, your eyes immediately followed her
“mommy?” “i’m right here, princess”
you relaxed against the couch, kicking your feet as your waited for your mother to return
she came came back and picked up the camera again “okay, princess. say hi to the camera”
you looked directly into the lens and gave a tiny wave “no, y/n say hi” “hi,” you said shyly
“good girl. now, what’s your name?” you sat up sat up a little straighter “y/n yvonne jackson… just like my mommy”
LaToya immediately laughed “good job! and what does everybody call you?”
“princess!” “and how old are you?” you proudly held up two fingers “two!”
“two years old! wow!” the camera zoomed in slightly as you giggled
“okay princess, what do you like to do for fun?”
“umm…” you looked around the room, tilting your head from side to side, thinking to yourself “i like to sing and play dress up with mommy” “you like playing dress up with mommy?” LaToya repeated and you nodded enthusiastically
“and what’s your favorite song to sing?” “ever and ever and ever” “ever and ever and ever?” you nodded again “forever came today” “yes!” “you really like that song, huh?” “mhm.”
there was a small rustling sound behind the camera as LaToya adjusted her grip
“okay, next question do you have a favorite cousin, princess?”
you immediately frowned and shook you head “not Jermajesty” “not Jermajesty? why?”
“’cause he not good at sharing” “oh, he isn’t?” “no” “well, who’s your favorite?” “prince!” “prince?” “yeah, ‘cause he’s really funny.”
you paused for a second “but sometimes he tells me what to do… and sometimes i don’t like it”
LaToya gasped dramatically from behind the camera “really?!” “mhm.”
“well, i guess we’re gonna have to talk to prince about that, aren’t we?” you smiled and kicked your feet against the couch “yeah!”
“okay, princess, one more question” you looked up at her “how would you feel if mommy had another baby?”
your little face immediately scrunched up and you shook your head “no”
LaToya started laughing behind the camera “no? why not?” “‘cause i don’t want one” “you don’t want a baby brother or sister?”
“no” “why?”
you thought about it for a second before answering very seriously
“’cause you gotta take care of it.”
LaToya laughed “well… mommy takes care of you” “but your my mommy” “and?”
you frowned, like she was asking a very obvious question
“you can’t be my mommy if you got another baby” “oh, so you’re gonna be jealous?” “yes” “at least you’re honest”
you nodded proudly “i want just me and mommy” “just you and mommy?”
“mhm”
“okay, princess. i think i understand” the camera shook as la toya laughed again.
summary: Michael takes a needed day off and he teaches you some things
warnings: firearms & shooting
notes: part five of the jackson’s, read part four here
morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, warming the room as you slowly opened your eyes and rolled over in bed to be met by michael smiling “OH! MCIHAEL!” you yelped
“baby what are you doing here?” you asked sitting up “i decided to take a off day so we can spend some time with you”
you reached over and placed the back of your hand against his forehead “hat are you doing?” he questioned “checking for a fever” you replied
Michael laughed so hard he had to lean back against the headboard “I don’t have a fever angel face” “you sure?” “yes i’m sure”
you smiled to yourself “well… i guess i can spare some time for you”
he raised an eyebrow. “oh, you can?” “well of course only because your schedule finally opened up”
Michael shook his head, smiling as he leaned over and kissed your forehead
“how generous of you sugar bear” he began to trail kisses along your jaw “i’m thinking we go out for dinner in a few, shop a little and maybe go to my family’s range and i can teach you some things”
you pulled back just enough to look at him “the range?” he nodded “yeah i want to teach you a few things” “…like what?” “how to handle a gun and a pocket knife sugar bear”
the playfulness on your face faded and Michael’s expression softened “i’m not asking because I expect you to become one of us, i’m asking because you’re going to be my wife and if something ever happens…i want you to know how to protect yourself until i can get to you”
you studied his face for a hot second
“this isn’t one of those cute little fiancé dates, is it?” “unfortunately no, it’s one of the most important dates we’ll ever have”
you sighed and turned onto your side, your back facing him “I was hoping you were gonna say a picnic or something” “we can do that too”
“with sandwiches and dessert?” “anything you want” he said and placed a kiss on your shoulder and the neck “now you’re negotiating” you said turning around “thought so”
you leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss “…fine” “really?” “yeah, but if I break a nail out there…” he grinned “i’ll pay for you to get a new manicure on the way home”
“and?” “and I’ll carry your shopping bags” “and?” he laughed “i’ll cook dinner tonight”
you folded your arms “you don’t cook” “i’ll… order dinner tonight” “there you go”
he laughed again before wrapping his arms around your waist “so…we’ve got ourselves a date?”
you smiled and nodded “we’ve got ourselves a date” “good” he kissed your forehead “now get all dolled up before I change my mind and keep you in bed all day”
the moment Michael parked, the distant sound of gunfire echoed through the air
you looked over at him “so… somebody beat us here” Michael nodded “looks like it”
the two of you climbed out of the truck, Michael walked around to your side, automatically reaching for your hand before the two of you started down the gravel path leading to the range
“You nervous?” he asked “a little” he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze “don’t be i’m not expecting perfection, i just want you to be comfortable.”
“and if I hate it?” he looked at you “you don’t really have a choice..”
as the two of you rounded the corner, another series of gunshots rang out
standing alone in one of the lanes was Marlon, apair of earmuffs rested over his ears as he emptied the last few rounds from his pistol
he lowered the gun before noticing the two of you walking toward him, he pulled off on of his earmuffs “well look who it is”
Michael smiled “didn’t know you’d be here”
Marlon shrugged “needed to blow off some steam” he ejected the magazine from the pistol before setting it on the shooting bench “it’s been one of those days”
he looked over at you “so…you finally letting her shoot?” Michael nodded
“it’s about damn time” Marlon chuckled “i’ve been telling you to teach her for months” “i know, i should’ve done it sooner”
Marlon walked over, giving you a quick side hug “you nervous?” “a little” he grinned “good” you gave him a look “that’s supposed to make me feel better?” “no, it means you’ll respect the weapon”
Michael nodded in agreement “confidence comes later”
the three of you continued walking farther down the range until you reached an empty lane
Marlon leaned against the shooting bench, folding his arms. “imma hang around for a bit” he looked between the two of you “watch her first lesson and judge it ya’know”
Michael smiled “as long as you don’t distract her.”
“welI…Speaking of distractions.”
Michael sighed “what now?” “we’ve got another problem with the Osmonds” “they moved again?” Marlon nodded “early this morning. they’ve been asking questions about one of our shipping route”
Michael let out a quiet breath “we’ll deal with it tomorrow.” “you sure?” “yes i’m sure, today’s my day off”
Marlon raised an eyebrow “you’re actually taking one?”
Michael looked over at you. “yeah just for her…”
Marlon couldn’t help but grin “Joseph’s gonna lose his mind when he finds out” “i don’t care about him right now, if he was here i wouldn’t bat a eye if she actually shot him in the foot”
Michael muttered and turned back toward you, picking up a pair of protective earmuffs and gently placing them over your ears, adjusting them until they fit comfortably
Michael walked over to the shooting bench and picked up a handgun before turning back toward you.
he didn’t hand it to you right away, instead, he rested it on the table between you.
“the first lesson has nothing to do with shooting” you looked at him curiously and he pointed to the pistol
“never assume it’s unloaded, no matter who hands it to you, no matter where you find it”
he picked it up again, keeping it pointed safely downrange
“but the very first thing you do…” he pressed a small button on the side “is remove the magazine” it slid into his other hand
“ghen…” he pulled the slide back and locked it open “…you check the chamber”
he tilted it slightly so you could see inside “magazine out. chamber clear, now you know it’s safe and empty”
you nodded, paying close attention, Michael smiled “now...your turn”
carefully, he handed you the unloaded pistol, your movements slow and deliberate as you repeated exactly what he’d shown you
“magazine out…” you removed it “lock the slide back…” a little more effort than you expected, but you managed. “and…” you looked into the chamber “clear?”
Michael’s smile widened “perfect”
Marlon, leaning against the bench a few feet away, nodded approvingly “not bad for your first time, mike did horrible his first”
a tiny smile crossed your face as Michael reached for a loaded magazine resting on the table “now i’ll show you how to load it”
he demonstrated slowly, pressing the magazine firmly into the grip until it clicked “you always make sure it’s seated” he gave the magazine a gentle tug “and if it comes out…” he shrugged “it’s not in correctly”
he pulled the slide back and released it“the round chambers, now it’s ready”
he immediately engaged the safety “and until you’re ready to fire…” he tapped it with his thumb “the safety stays on”
you repeated every step under his watchful eye. Michael corrected the angle of your wrist once and adjusted your grip another time, then smiled “you’re catching on so far”
he stepped behind you “alright”
his chest lightly brushed against your back as he gently repositioned your stance “feet about shoulder width apart”
he nudged one of your feet with his own “there, lean forward just a little”
he reached around you, carefully placing your hands where they needed to be on the grip “keep both hands firm but don’t squeeze so hard that your arms lock up, happened to Jermaine once”
he slowly lifted the pistol with you “now…” he pointed toward the paper target hanging several yards away
“focus on the front sight, not the target..the target will be blurry, the sight won’t”
you took a slow breath “i think i got it”
Michael stepped just slightly to the side but kept one hand lightly at your waist “okay sugar bear, whenever you’re ready”
you gently squeezed the trigger
BANG !
the recoil caught you completely off guard you let out a tiny yelp as you stumbled backward a step. Michael was already there, steadying you before you could lose your balance
across the lane Marlon burst into laughter “i’m sorry!” he laughed, holding his stomach “i really am!”
you turned to glare at him, playfully pointing the pistol at his foot “…you done?”
he held up both hands “i’m done..i promise” another chuckle slipped out and you rolled your eyes
Micheal squeezed your waist “ignore him, everybody reacts like that their first time, you did exactly what I expected”
“i looked ridiculous” “you looked surprised” “there’s a difference”
he gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face “and for the record…” he glanced downrange “you still hit the target”
your eyes widened “I did?” Michael pointed toward the paper and sure enough a single hole sat just inside the outer scoring rings
it wasn’t perfect but it was on the paper
a grin slowly spread across your face “i hit it!” Michael couldn’t hide how proud he looked “i told you”
Marlon folded his arms with an approving nod “beginner’s luck”
you looked over your shoulder “don’t make me shoot at you next”
Marlon raised both hands dramatically “see? she’s already getting the hang of it”
areudirty
gracieabrams
gummygunk
ellievsbear
stormborns
titsay
