Warnings: Canonical school bullying (Jeon Yeong-bin being himself), minor violence (deflected punches/kicks), mild swearing. Otherwise completely fluff and comfort.
✨️Masterlist✨️
The morning sun cut through the windows of Classroom 1-6 at Byuksan High School, illuminating the dust motes dancing over rows of desks. At the front of the room, you neatly stacked the homeroom attendance sheets. Being the class president was a responsibility you took seriously, even if your classmates mostly viewed the title as a chore to avoid.
Behind the desk, your uniform was pressed perfectly, and your posture was straight; a habit drilled into you by your father, a high-ranking US military officer currently stationed at the nearby base in South Korea. He had spent years training you in hand-to-hand combat, treating your physical education with the same rigorous, no-nonsense discipline as his unit. You were incredibly proficient, possessing the kind of muscle memory that reacted before your brain even had to process a threat. But despite your high grades and fighting skillset, you genuinely disliked violence. You preferred order, quiet, and keeping the peace.
At the back of the classroom, Ahn Suho was fast asleep. His head was laying on his pink arm pillow on his folded arms, his face turned toward the window. He was a ghost in the classroom until he chose not to be, known widely for his terrifyingly effective fighting skills and his complete lack of interest in school.
The fragile peace of the morning broke when Jeon Yeong-bin entered the room, flanked by his usual sycophants.
Scanning the room for entertainment, Yeong-bin’s eyes landed on a quiet, nervous student near the middle row. With a nasty smirk, Yeong-bin shoved the boy into the open space between the desks. One of his lackeys immediately pulled out a smartphone, aiming the camera at the boy, while the other began clapping a mocking, rhythmic beat against a desktop.
"Hey, look at the camera," Yeong-bin ordered, shoving the boy's shoulder. "Dance. Make it look good, come on. Move your legs."
The boy froze, his face burning with humiliation as the phone screen stayed locked onto him. The guys laughed, recording his hesitation. "Are you deaf? I said dance," Yeong-bin sneered, raising a hand to slap the back of the boy's head to force him into motion.
The rest of the classroom instantly went quiet, students looking away to avoid catching Yeong-bin's attention.
You exhaled a quiet sigh, adjusting your glasses. You hated this. As class president, it was your job to maintain order, but more importantly, you just couldn't stand seeing someone get cornered and humiliated like a toy.
You walked over, your steps even and deliberate. You stepped right into the space between Yeong-bin and the terrified student, breaking the camera’s line of sight and drawing the bully's immediate glare.
"Jeon Yeong-bin-ssi," you said, your voice calm, polite, and completely steady. "Homeroom is about to start. Please return to your seat so we can begin the day without any issues."
Yeong-bin blinked, momentarily stunned by the interruption, before a nasty grin spread across his face. "Class President. Look at you, doing your little job. Why don't you mind your own business before you get hurt?"
"I am minding my business. This is a classroom," you replied. You immediately bowed ninety degrees, your tone entirely respectful despite the firmness of your words. "I apologize if I’m frustrating you! Truly, I am sorry. But please, put the phone away and sit down."
Yeong-bin’s grin vanished, replaced by a flush of irritation. He felt mocked by the polite gesture. "YA! Are you fucking with me?"
"No, not at all! I genuinely apologize for the interruption!" You bowed again, a quick, habitual motion. "But I cannot let you harass our classmate."
"Shut up!" Yeong-bin barked. Losing his patience entirely in front of his friends, he swung a heavy, telegraphed right hook directly at your face.
At the back of the room, Suho’s eyes cracked open. The sudden shift in the room's tension had pulled him from his nap. He stayed still, resting his chin on his arms, watching the scene unfold with lazy curiosity. He expected to see the class president get hit and him havingto step in. He didn't expect what actually happened.
As Yeong-bin’s fist flew toward you, your training kicked in seamlessly. You didn't flinch or step back like everyone expected you to.
You simply pivoted your torso by an inch, letting the fist graze past your ear. Before Yeong-bin could recover his balance, you caught his wrist with one hand and placed your open palm against his elbow, gently but firmly redirecting his momentum. He stumbled forward, his own weight carrying him past you.
"Ah! I am so sorry!" you exclaimed, immediately turning and bowing to him as he struggled to find his footing. "Are you okay? I didn't mean to make you lose your balance!"
Yeong-bin's face turned bright red. Growling, he spun around and launched a messy kick toward your midsection.
You dropped your center of gravity, caught his ankle with a swift, sweeping motion of your forearm, and lifted slightly just enough to throw him off balance again without knocking him to the floor. You let go immediately, stepping back with your hands raised defensively, palms open.
"I apologize! Please stop!" you said, bowing again, your voice genuinely distressed by the conflict. "I really don't want to fight you, Yeong-bin-ssi! I am sorry if my actions are rude!"
Yeong-bin stood there, breathing heavily, his hands shaking with rage and sheer embarrassment. He hadn't even touched you, yet he had been completely humiliated twice in front of the entire class. Every time he tried to swing, you treated it like an accidental collision, apologizing and bowing like a model student while completely embarrassing him.
He looked around the room. His lackeys were staring at him with wide, shocked eyes. From the back row, Suho was now sitting up fully, a sharp, intrigued glint in his usually bored eyes. Even Sieun had looked up from his book, watching you with an analytical gaze.
"Good. Please let me know if you need anything," you said softly. You turned and walked back to the front of the room, completely unaware of the intense gaze following you from the back corner of the class.
Realizing he was completely humiliated and unable to land a single blow without looking even more ridiculous, Yeong-bin scoffed loudly. "Whatever. You're a psycho," he muttered, turning on his heel and storming off toward his desk at the opposite side of the room.
You let out a long breath, your shoulders dropping. Turning to the student who had been targeted, you offered a small, reassuring nod. "Are you alright?"
The boy nodded quickly, whispering a thank you before scrambling back to his seat.
Suho leaned back in his chair, a slow, genuine smirk spreading across his face. 'Class President,' he thought, adjusting his posture before laying his head back down on his pillow, 'is definitely not normal.'
The rest of the school day passed without incident. Yeong-bin completely ignored you, too humiliated to even look in your direction, which suited you perfectly. When the final bell rang, you stayed behind to ensure the classroom was locked up and the daily logs were completed. By the time you walked out of the heavy front doors of Byuksan High, the sky was painted in deep shades of orange and purple.
You slung your backpack over your shoulder and began the long walk down the hill toward the main road. The neighborhood around the school was quiet at this hour, the typical rush of students having already cleared out.
The low, steady rumble of a motorized scooter engine broke the silence behind you. You stepped closer to the edge of the sidewalk to let whoever it was pass, but the vehicle slowed down, eventually pulling up right alongside you.
You looked over. It was Ahn Suho.
He was riding his delivery scooter, wearing his uniform with the jacket open over a white t-shirt. He pushed up the visor of his helmet, cutting the engine so it just coasted to a stop next to you.
"Hey," Suho said.
"Oh. Ahn Suho-ssi," you stopped, giving him a slight, instinctive bow. "Hello."
"You live far?" he asked, tilting his head toward the road ahead.
"About thirty minutes down by the station," you said, adjusting your backpack strap.
Suho rested his boots on the pavement, keeping the scooter balanced. He looked at you for a second, totally relaxed. "What was that this morning?"
"Ah." You felt your face warm up a bit. "Sorry about that. Did the noise wake you up?"
Suho let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "You're apologizing to me now? You did that to Yeong-bin too. Dodged his punch and immediately bowed."
"I just didn't want him to hit me," you said softly, looking away. "And I didn't want to hit him either."
"You caught his wrist," Suho said, his eyes tracking your movement as if he was replaying it in his head. "Most people can't do that. Where'd you learn it?"
"My dad," you said. "He’s in the US military, stationed at the base here. He’s trained me since I was a kid."
Suho nodded slowly, the pieces clicking together. "Military. That makes sense. You used his own weight against him." He shifted on the seat, looking at you curiously. "If you're that good, why don't you ever use it? Nobody would mess with you."
"I don't like it," you replied simply. "Fighting just makes things worse. If I hit him, he'd want revenge. If I just avoid him and apologize, he just looks stupid and backs off."
Suho stared at you for a long beat, then a slow grin spread across his face. "Smart."
"Thanks," you said, offering a small smile.
Suho tapped the empty seat behind him. "Get on. I'll drop you off."
"Oh, no, it's fine," you said quickly, raising your hands. "I don't want to make you late for work."
"I won't be," Suho said, kicking out the footrest. "Just get on. Walking that hill sucks."
Seeing he wasn't going to drop it, you gave in. "Okay. Thank you."
You stepped up and sat behind him. You held onto the metal rack at first, but when Suho started the engine and pulled onto the road, the sudden jerk made you grab his waist to stay balanced. He didn't say anything, just navigated the streets with easy control, the evening wind cool against your face.
"Which way?" Suho called out over the engine as you reached the main intersection.
"Left at the light!" you shouted back.
He leaned into the turn effortlessly. A few minutes later, you pointed toward a secured apartment complex near the base. "Right there by the gate is fine."
Suho pulled over and killed the engine, the street suddenly falling quiet. You got off the scooter and adjusted your skirt and bag.
"Thanks for the ride, Suho," you said, bowing politely.
"Don't worry about it," Suho said, pushing his visor up. He looked at the gate, then back to you, his expression turning a little amused. "Hey, Class President."
"Yeah?"
"Tomorrow, if Yeong-bin tries anything else..." Suho started the scooter back up, giving you a quick, casual smirk. "Don't bother bowing to him. Just let me know, and I'll take care of it."
A real smile broke across your face. "I'll keep that in mind. Drive safely."
"See ya," he said, twisting the throttle and speeding off into the evening light. You watched his taillights fade around the corner before heading inside, feeling a lot better about the days to come.
synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)
thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3
Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.
It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.
Harmless.
There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.
Taking you against the bathroom door, hand clasped over your mouth to conceal your whines of pleasure. Or over the kitchen counter after his fiancée left for work. Or even in the same bed his wife to be slept in after you left, legs wobbling and a familiar throb between your thighs.
He knew it was wrong — especially since you were his brother’s friend. Someone who had been in his life since he was in his early 20’s — a constant reminder of something he could’ve had if he didn’t get into another relationship.
He had loved you from the second he set eyes on you. When Jermajesty introduced you both on a casual day, his heart ignited in desire. A want, no a need, for you so strong he physically felt a visceral reaction to you every time he saw you. Alas, he was harshly reminded you were meant to be friends, his brother’s friend, someone in close knit with the family — not someone to be romantically involved with. He moved on — physically, never emotionally.
He and Maddie, his future bride, weren’t the most thrilling of couples. They were simple, basic, easy — their marriage something to just say they’d done. Often lacking chemistry and connection, and that feeling deep in your soul where you know the person you’re with is the one.
Something he’d always felt for you.
The way he felt when you’d look at him, your pretty doe eyes peering up at him like he hung the stars, he could physically feel his heart thumping in his heart every time.
The affair started on Jermajesty’s birthday.
You got drunk — way too wasted, way too quick. The liquor hitting you harder than you expected as you stumbled through the Jackson home, bumping into walls, clutching onto door frame’s as you attempted to make it to the bathroom, before colliding straight into Jaafar, fairly tipsy himself.
He had been with Maddie a little over 3 years — bought their first home, talking of children and marriage, finally settling down.
Until he decided bending you over the sink and fucking you senseless sounded like a better idea.
And from there it blossomed.
Fucking you anywhere and everywhere — no matter the time. And every excuse was made.
Late home? He was on set. Or was he fucking you in his car in an empty parking lot?
Didn’t answer his phone? He was just busy! Busy stuffing your mouth full of his cock, more like.
He hated the way he felt no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. Just the sheer thrill of it — the excitement that filled his chest at thought of when he’d next be burying himself deep inside you.
He’d tell you, as he thought himself, ‘It’s harmless sex’. Something you’d laugh at — despite the cruel reality of it.
And the sex only got better when he and Maddie started fighting. Every day it was a new argument, brutal disputes that would only bring him back into your arms every time — love for her dying, and desire for you blooming.
The thought clouded his mind on set.
Standing under the bright lights, eyes burning from the sheer intensity as well as the fatigue that plagued him — not only from his demanding career, but visions of you keeping him awake, too.
When the director called for a short break, he let out a sigh of relief, shrugging a heavily bedazzled jacket from his tired shoulders, handing it to a nearby costume designer. Raking a hand through his tussled curls, he moved sluggishly to the sidelines of the set, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a slow, much needed, chug.
“Hey, you.”
He hated the way his brain automatically associated the sound of clicking shoes against the hard floor with you — his excitement dying slowly in his chest as he turned to meet his fiancée’s frame.
“Oh, hey.” He spoke, voice flat and uniform.
Maddie hesitated before speaking, eyebrows furrowed neatly into her forehead, “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” He brushed off, shaking his head, taking a firm seat in a chair with ‘J.Jackson’ neatly embroidered into the back, with a sigh, “What you doing here anyways?”
“Glad to see you too.” She huffed sarcastically, “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
She handed over a brown paper bag, heavy in his hand as he took it from her. Jaafar peeled it open, stomach rumbling as the sudden reminder to eat filled his now conscious brain.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jaafar peered up at her apprehensively, “I just—nothing it’s fine. Thank you.”
Maddie’s expression fell, “No. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, “I just don’t like turkey.”
“What?” She hissed, snatching the bag quickly, staring down at the bleak sandwich sat sadly inside, “You do.”
“I definitely don’t.” He breathed out a laugh, “You have it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.”
“You loved turkey when we first started dating.” She fired back, attempting to win back her pride.
“Yeah, 8 years ago.”
Maddie scoffed, “Fine. I’ll eat it. Go eat your shit vending machine food, and not the meal your fiancée worked so hard to make for you.”
Jaafar laughed in disbelief, “Maddie, it’s a sandwich. No offence, but I sincerely doubt you worked that hard.”
“What the hell, Jaafar? Honestly, I can’t with you sometimes, I just feel—“ “Jaafarrrr.”
Maddie noticed the way he perked up at the sound of your voice.
She rolled her eyes at the sight of you — a tiny, black mini skirt and a white blouse clad to your frame, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered in. You looked good without needing to try — something Jaafar always admired about you.
“Hey!” He beamed, rising from his chair, heading straight for you without a second thought, that dangerously beautiful smile adorning his face, “What are you doing here?”
The tone difference in the same question he’d asked to you and to Maddie was clear — something hard to miss.
He met you halfway across set, pulling you into a tight embrace, large arms wrapping around your frame, as you laced your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, Jaafar’s heart raced as you looked up at him — there were those pretty eyes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought you some lunch.” You admitted, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you handed him a gorgeously packaged box.
The smell hit him before he opened it — perfectly cooked steak, with freshly steamed greens and a side of mac n’ cheese. He groaned in delight.
“Your favourite.” You added.
If it wasn’t for the Jaafar blocking your view — you would’ve been met with the coldest, most seething gaze Maddie could muster.
She had been jealous of you from the start — she hated how much Jaafar loved being around you, how you got on like a house on fire, and proven just in that moment, how well you knew him.
“Oh, my God, this smells incredible.” Jaafar admitted, eyes flickering from your own to the food, “Thank you, princess.” He whispered, his voice low enough for you only to hear, “I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
“Contain yourself, handsome.” You returned the hushed tone, “Later.”
Jaafar’s eyes darkened at the thrilling idea of getting to kiss you in secret later — visions of ravishing you filling his mind. A different kind of hunger fuelling in his heart.
“I already made him lunch.”
You heard her before you saw her — Maddie’s stern voice from behind Jaafar, gaze still sharp.
“Oh, man.” Your voice a teasing disappointment, “Sorry, J, I didn’t know. What a waste.” Your faux frown hit his face, heart twisting at the idea of your upset.
“No, no. It’s fine. Maddie’s gonna have the other one, right?”
“No, I sai—“
“Aw, thanks, Maddie!” You grinned, excitable voice hitting both of their ears once again, smiling so innocently that your intentions seemed so pure, “At least you can have your favourite now.”
Jaafar smiled down at you, grabbing the plastic fork laid neatly next to his glorious meal, before digging in, “Oh, wow, this is amazing.”
“Made it myself.” You admitted, “Worked very hard for you, Jaaf.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jaafar couldn’t contain the way he smiled as you giggled proudly, walking alongside, mouth full of the food you kindly prepared for him, back to where he once sat, “Whatcha’ got planned for today then?”
“Figured I’d sit around all day and watch you sweat.”
Maddie clenched her jaw at the way you both laughed loudly — a real, genuine laugh falling from Jaafar’s lips.
“Sounds like a riveting day.” He teased, resuming back in his seat.
You grinned, “Oh, definitely. A real thriller.”
“Nice play on word—“ “Jaafar, can we talk?”
Maddie’s harsh voice cut your laughter short — a sudden intense atmosphere blossoming. Jaafar’s smile fell quickly, eyes meeting hers for the first time since you arrived as if her presence wasn’t recognisable.
“What?”
“Alone.”
You bit back a grin — every argument they had brought Jaafar closer to you. Sick, but you loved it.
“I’ll go wait in your dressing room, J.”
To Maddie, she was silently thankful for your departure, however, completely missing your sensual undertone — alluding to the very man, she was subconsciously pushing further away from her and more towards you, that you’d be waiting for him in a quiet, secluded place where he could take you like he always did.
You parted from the tension quickly — sauntering away, hips swinging involuntarily, your back facing the upcoming argument you knew would arise.
Maddie didn’t miss the way Jaafar watched you walk away.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Her voice forced a foul expression onto Jaafar’s face, “What now?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Jaafar.” Maddie snapped, finger pointing accusingly at him, “What is her problem?”
Jaafar feigned innocence quickly, “What do you mean? She just brought me lunch.”
“So did I, but you turned that down real fast. But, when she does it, it’s like she’s moved fucking mountains for you?” Maddie’s voice got icier with each sentence — and louder, forcing passing members of staff to side-eye the growing dispute.
“Lower your voice.” He hissed, eyes darting around, “You brought me something I didn’t like. Sorry if that offends you.”
“It’s not about that, Jaafar, it’s about how fucking weird you are around each other.” She snapped, voice refusing to lower, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Jaafar hid the way adrenaline thumped through his veins at the idea of her possibly finding out well. The thought of filling you to the brim with his thick cock suddenly polluting his brain — blood rushing between the very manhood he wanted to stuff you full of.
“Hello?” Maddie sassed, face an unyielding frosty expression.
“No, of course not. Stop asking me this.” Jaafar lied straight his teeth, a lie told so many times it felt natural now, “You always paint her out to be a horrible person, but she’s always so good to me. I don’t know why you can’t just be nice to her.”
“Because she’s all up on my fiancé every five seconds.”
“We’re just close.” Jaafar spoke, a statement not entirely untrue, “Just leave her alone for once.”
“Maybe tell her that.” Maddie spat, “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“And there we go. Always at her defence.” She laughed in aggravation, “I’m your fiancé, y’know? It’s me you’re marrying.”
I wish it wasn’t.
The sentence hit his brain faster than he expected — a subconscious response to the argument and his secretive infatuation with you.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jaafar shot back, rising to his feet quickly, “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.” He wasted no time walking down the hallway to his dressing room, following in your footsteps
“Jaafar, what? No.”
“Do not follow me.”
His voice, a usual calm and collected tone, was now snarled and bitter — a declaration of his frustration. He meant every word he said.
Jaafar stormed through the hall — feet stomping against the ground harder with each step. His anger bubbling over the edge as his chest heaved.
He slammed open the dressing room door — agitation oozing from him like no other. His eyes immediately landed on your relaxed frame, longing on the sofa that was pressed against the back of the room. You met his furious gaze.
“You okay, baby?”
Your sweet, calming voice flooded his frenzied brain — the nickname hitting him straight between the legs. He strode towards you quickly, hands immediately cradling your face as he smashed your lips together in a frantic kiss. You squeaked in surprise at the sudden connection — hands grasping at his tensed arms, before melting into his mouth.
“Need you. Now.” He mumbled against your lips, “Need to feel you.”
“Jaaf.” You whined, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your mouth had a familiar tingle radiating up your spine at the anticipation.
His lips worked magic against yours once more — moving with calculated precision as he pulled you to your feet. Tongues and teeth clashing as the passion intensified in your lip-locking — spit and swollen lips the only thing evident on your mouth as he moved his kisses down your neck. His hand, once pressed against the warm of your cheek, splayed across the nape of your neck, as he worked his way down your exposed chest.
“This gotta come off.” He muttered, flicking the buttons of your top open with ease, pulling it off your body and throwing it to the floor, your plump breasts filling his gaze.
His name fell from your mouth in a desperate plea as his lips attached to your bare tits — an erect nipple swirled around his tongue as he sucked. Your head thrust back — whines now filling the room as your back pressed into the makeup counter.
Jaafar pulled away from your breasts, lips colliding with your own once more as his eager hand travelled down your body — fingers nestling right where you needed him. His fingers slipped under your skirt, finding comfort in the dip of your slit, collecting your essence on his fingers from where you drooled through your panties.
“Jaafar, please.” You whimpered, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Tell me how much you want it, pretty.” Jaafar whispered against you, face now flush against your own, “Tell me all about it, baby.”
His fingers rubbed tight, precise circles over your clothed clit, slick with your arousal, eliciting the sweetest noises from your pretty mouth — ones that hand Jaafar twitching in his slacks.
“Mm—Need you—Aah! so bad, J,” You cried, hands clutching at the thick of his bicep, “M’Wanna feel you so bad.”
“That’s it, sweetie, talk to me.” He coaxed, mouth suckling at the exposure of your neck, marking up your skin with the graze of his teeth.
Jaafar continued to work his fingers onto you — nimble digits rubbing the painful ache between your legs away as he relaxed you, arousing you ready for his length. His supple lips pressed soft, delicate kisses to any piece of your skin he was unveiled to — only adding to the gorgeous whines of pleasure that flooded his ears.
You leant over to press a sweet kiss to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, “Please, Jaaf, need to feel you.”
Jaafar didn’t give you time to change your mind.
He ripped his body from yours in a hurry — trembling hands from adrenaline and anger unbuckling his slacks, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cold air hit the warmth of his cock, large hands instantaneously coming to wrap around the sheer length of him, pumping himself in relief.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately — swiftly pressing your stomach to the counter, poking your half-exposed ass to him. He pushed your skirt further up your backside, now bunching at your hips.
“I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, baby.” He revealed, looking up at you from the mirror before both of you, revelling in the way you gasped as the fat of his cockend slid between the wetness of your folds, “Too fucking angry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Your sweet, deliciously soft voice calmed his fury ever so slightly, the eyes that had him weak in the knees meeting his own in the reflection, “Use me. Take me. Just fuck me, please.”
The erotic admission had him pushing into you faster than he ever does — a loud cry falling past your lips as your vision blurred, hand slamming against the glass in a fist as he stretched you. Jaafar usually would take his time with you — work you open with his fingers, make you cum a few times before entering you. But not now. The flaming anger than burst inside of him had him selfish — not wanting to waste a single second before filling you to the brim.
And that he did. Your cunt throbbed around the size of him — girth and length forcing your slick little cunt open for him so briskly it had you biting on your lip so hard you tasted blood.
“That’s my good girl.” Jaafar growled out, a large hand stroking the plush of your hips that he gripped with the pad of his thumb, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful full of me.”
“Jaafar, please.” You mewled, tears brimming in your twinkling eyes.
“I know, I know, baby.” He reassured, dragging his cock out of you slowly, “Just feel me.”
He set a brutal pace — one that rendered you speechless from the first thrust. Only blabbering moans of undeniable pleasure releasing from your mouth as his tip kissed the smooth of your cervix, his cock rammed so deep you forget how to speak.
Jaafar grunted wildly behind you — his usual gentle love-making a distant memory as he fucked you as if you were a cock hungry slut. Something he could use for his own personal pleasure.
Right now, you were absolutely that and more.
“Fucking hate her.” He seethed behind you, grip tightening around your hips, before sliding up your back and taking your hair in a tight grasp, pulling you flush against his heaving chest, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”
The nefarious admission had your cunt clenching around him — knowing he was fucking you brainless whilst badmouthing his fiancée, who you also despised, had arousal coursing through your veins more so than before.
Jaafar noticed, “Oh, you naughty girl.” He breathed, breath hot against your ear, “You love fucking a taken man, huh?”
“Only you, Jaafar.”
Jaafar couldn’t suppress the whimper that fell from his lips, head falling into the crook of your neck, mumbling a curse under his breath at your huffed submission to him — cock throbbing inside you. Every drag of his dick had you whining underneath him — eyes rolling back as he repeatedly abused the sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh, princess?” He coaxed, “Look at me.” His large hand gripped your cheeks in a harsh grasp, before pushing two fingers into your agape mouth, “Suck.”
You willingly did as he pleased — suckling at the thick of his digits, the tang of your essence still lingering on his fingers flooding your tastebuds, whining at the taste of yourself. Your tongue swirled around him, eager to please, earning a hum of approval from the heaving man behind you, his pace never faltering.
“Jaafar.” Your voice muffled, mouth still stuffed full of him, a desperate, needy tone in your words, “Harder, p’wease.”
“Y’sound so fuckin’ sexy with your mouth full.” Jaafar groaned, eyes locked on the way tears slipped from your wide eyes, cascading down your face, a collecting of wetness of your tears and spit pooling at your chin.
Jaafar pulled out of you swiftly, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness, before briskly shifting you to face him, pulling your body on top of the counter. He entered you once more, a blissful moan falling past your lips. His hands splayed against the fat of your hips against, pulling you down onto the hardness of his cock — bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you marched every thrust with an erotic whinge.
“‘Gonna cum, Jaaf.” You revealed, eyes glued to the milky white essence that pooled at the base of Jaafar’s cock as it disappeared repeatedly into your sex.
“Give it to me, princess.” He coaxed, fingers flying to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the aching nub, “Cum with me, baby.”
Your orgasm crept down your spine, settling in the low of your abdomen, the relief of a much needed climax arriving, a loud, demanding moan leaving your mouth as you chased your high at full speed. Jaafar wasn’t far behind you — pace now quickening as he too chased his orgasm, wanting nothing more right now to fill you to the brim with his fertile seed.
Slam!
“What the fuck?”
The door to the dressing room swung open — an aggressive bang that had both of your heads spinning towards the noise.
Now you were truly fucked.
Maddie stood in the door way, utterly mortified and shocked to her core at the sight of you — pussy stuffed full of her fiancée’s cock — sweat glistening off of both your bodies, chests heaving.
In a blacked-out state of intense arousal, your wicked mouth betrayed
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jaafar.”
And he listened.
In his own personal lust, the sound of his distraught fiancée’s shouting, catching him in a comprising act fell on deaf ears, his hips, that had once stilled, resumed once more.
Your head fell back once more as his pace picked up — your orgasm climbing back up quicker now, pure thrill and adrenaline coursing through you like an addict snorting a fresh line.
Your nails dug into the plush of his bare ass, moans hitting an all time high as you clenched around him, completely unaffected by the furious woman in the doorway — climax washing over you harder than it ever had.
“Oh, Jaafar!” His name rang out through the room, alongside the squelch of your juices with each harsh thrust Jaafar fucked into you, a subconscious twist of the knife to the disbelieving Maddie watching in shock.
Jaafar groaned into your rising chest, cumming with a cry, his own orgasm hitting him as he doubled over, folding into you as he stuffed you full. The sensation of his spurting load filling you to the brim had your toes curling around his waist, a whine hitting his ringing ears. He didn’t stop — fucking his hot cum deeper into you, hips stuttering in overstimulation, the intense feeling of his electric orgasm still flooding through him.
In your mutual state of blind pleasure, you hadn’t noticed the absence of Maddie — the room deafening silent as you caught your breaths.
Jaafar softened inside you, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut.
the first few weeks after you and Martin went public were supposed to be exciting.
at least, that’s what everyone always said.
the secret dates were over. no more hiding in the background of photos. no more pretending y’all were “just friends” whenever someone got suspicious. for the first time, you could openly hold his hand, post pictures together, and exist as a couple without constantly looking over your shoulder.
unfortunately, not everyone was happy about it.
most people were supportive. your comments were filled with heart emojis, congratulations, and people saying how cute you looked together.
but there was another side of the internet too.
the side that made fake accounts.
the side that left racist comments.
the side that acted like your skin color somehow made you less deserving of being loved.
you tried not to read them.
really.
you told yourself you wouldn’t.
yet somehow your thumb always found its way back to the comment sections.
“she doesn’t deserve him.”
“he could do better.”
“ewww, why is he dating her?”
“of course he picked a black girl.”
some comments were subtle.
others weren’t.
the worst part was that strangers felt comfortable saying them publicly.
you sat curled up on your bed, phone in your hand, staring at another disgusting comment.
your stomach twisted.
you knew these people didn’t know you.
you knew their opinions shouldn’t matter.
but after seeing hundreds of comments saying the same thing, it became difficult not to wonder if maybe there was something wrong with you.
a knock sounded on your bedroom door.
before you could answer, it opened.
martin stepped inside carrying a bag of snacks.
his smile immediately disappeared when he saw your face.
“hey.”
you quickly locked your phone.
“hey.” you said, trying your best to not show any emotions.
he narrowed his eyes.
“what happened?”
“nothing.”
“right...”
you looked away.
martin sat beside you on the bed.
“y/n.”
the concern in his voice almost made you cry.
“i’m fine.”
you were lying.
“i’m fine,” you said quietly as you locked your phone and set it face-down on your bed.
martin frowned as he stepped further into your room, the bag of snacks in his hand crinkling softly.
“you’re not fine,” he said firmly as he placed the bag on your desk and sat beside you.
“i am,” you said stubbornly as you crossed your arms over your chest.
martin raised an eyebrow as he looked at you.
“y/n, i’ve known you for years,” he said as he leaned back against your headboard. “i can literally tell when you’re upset before you even say anything.”
you looked away as you pressed your lips together.
“it’s nothing,” you said as you stared at the wall.
martin sighed as he held his hand out toward you.
“give me the phone,” he said as he wiggled his fingers expectantly.
“martin—” you started as your shoulders tensed.
“give me the phone, please,” he repeated as he tilted his head.
you hesitated before handing it over.
martin unlocked the screen and immediately regretted it.
his jaw clenched as he scrolled.
his expression grew darker with every swipe.
you watched him silently.
“what the hell?” he asked as he stared at another hateful comment.
you shrugged as you picked at a loose thread on your blanket.
“just people being weird,” you said as you avoided eye contact.
martin looked up at you in disbelief.
“weird?” he repeated as he sat up straighter. “baby, these people are being racist.”
you swallowed as your stomach twisted.
“…i know,” you admitted as your voice dropped.
martin locked the phone and tossed it onto the bed beside him.
“how long have you been reading this stuff?” he asked as he rubbed a hand over his face.
“a couple weeks,” you answered as you stared down at your lap.
martin blinked at you.
“a couple weeks?” he repeated as he looked genuinely shocked.
you nodded slightly.
“i didn’t want to bother you with it,” you said as you fiddled with the sleeve of your hoodie.
martin immediately shook his head.
“bother me?” he asked as he leaned toward you. “you seriously think i wouldn’t be bothered by this?”
you looked at him with tired eyes.
“you’ve got enough going on already,” you said as you shrugged.
martin stared at you for a second before letting out a disbelieving laugh.
“y/n, you’re my girlfriend,” he said as he pointed at you. “your problems are my problems.”
you felt your chest tighten.
“that’s not fair to you,” you said as you looked away.
martin scooted closer.
“stop saying that,” he said as he gently nudged your shoulder.
you sighed quietly.
“it’s just…” you started as you blinked rapidly. “after seeing hundreds of comments saying the same thing, it kinda gets to your head.”
martin’s expression immediately softened.
“come here,” he said as he opened his arms.
you didn’t hesitate.
you moved closer and buried your face against his chest.
martin wrapped his arms around you tightly.
“those people don’t know you,” he said as he rested his chin on top of your head.
you closed your eyes.
“i know,” you mumbled as your fingers curled into his hoodie.
“no, seriously,” he said as he pulled back enough to look at you. “they literally don’t know anything about you.”
you sniffled softly.
martin wiped beneath your eye with his thumb.
“they don’t know how you text your friends just to make sure they got home safe,” he said as he smiled faintly.
you rolled your eyes.
“martin,” you complained as your cheeks warmed.
“they don’t know how you cry over animal videos,” he continued as he laughed quietly.
“i don’t cry,” you argued as you sat up straighter.
martin immediately pointed at you.
“yes, you do,” he said as he laughed harder.
you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.
“whatever,” you muttered as you shook your head.
martin’s smile softened.
“they don’t know how kind you are,” he said as he intertwined your fingers with his.
your smile faded slightly.
“they don’t know how funny you are,” he continued as he squeezed your hand.
you looked down at your joined hands.
“and they definitely don’t know how much i love you,” he finished as he looked directly into your eyes.
your breath caught.
“tin…” you whispered as emotion filled your chest.
he shook his head.
“don’t let random people on the internet make you question yourself,” he said as he brushed a curl away from your face.
you looked at him silently.
“you are beautiful,” he said as he cupped your cheek.
a tear slipped down your face.
“you are smart,” he continued as he gently wiped the tear away.
another tear followed.
“you are funny,” he said as he smiled at you.
you laughed weakly.
“and you’re one of the strongest people i know,” he finished as he pressed his forehead against yours.
you closed your eyes.
“i hate this,” you admitted as your voice cracked.
martin nodded immediately.
“i know,” he said as he rubbed circles into your back.
“it’s exhausting,” you confessed as you tightened your grip on his hoodie.
martin sighed.
“it shouldn’t be your job to deal with racism just because people can’t act normal,” he said as frustration flashed across his face.
you looked up at him.
“thank you,” you said softly as you squeezed his hand.
martin frowned.
“for what?” he asked as he tilted his head.
“for not pretending it isn’t happening,” you said as you gave him a small smile.
his expression softened again.
“you never have to convince me it’s real,” he said as he kissed the top of your head.
you felt another wave of emotion hit you.
“i love you,” you said quietly as you looked up at him.
martin immediately smiled.
“i love you too,” he said as he pressed a kiss against your forehead.
you laughed softly.
“you’re kinda corny,” you teased as you nudged his shoulder.
martin gasped dramatically.
“that’s crazy,” he said as he placed a hand over his chest. “after everything i just said?”
you giggled.
“yeah,” you said as you leaned against him.
martin wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
“well, get used to it,” he said as he kissed your temple. “because i’m gonna keep defending you every single time.”
you smiled against his shoulder.
“good,” you said as you closed your eyes.
martin smiled to himself as he tightened his arm around you.
“good,” he repeated as he rested his head against yours.
you and jermajesty had just stepped out of the shower, water droplets still clinging to his skin and hair. you followed him out of the steamy bathroom, wrapping a fluffy towel around yourself.
he immediately headed toward the counter, the bathroom mirror reflecting his damp, sculpted physique. he picked up his phone from the counter, glancing at the screen with a smirk as he saw the notifications from his recent posts flooding in.
"you see this?" he asked, tilting the phone screen toward you. "they think i look fine. like, overly fine."
you laughed softly, walking up behind him and draping your arms over his shoulders. "you do, babe."
he turned around, his eyes locking onto yours. he reached out and grabbed you by the back of the neck, pulling you in for a deep, hungry kiss. his lips were warm and tasted of water and mint.
"i know," he whispered against your lips, his hand sliding down your throat to your collarbone. "i'm trying to tell you, ma."
he pulled back slightly, his hand still gripping your neck firmly. "i want to show them."
"show them what?"
"how good you make me feel," he said as he guided you toward the bathroom mirror. "and how good i look doing it."
he pressed your back against the cool granite of the counter, his body pressing against yours. he leaned down and captured your lips again, his tongue tangling with yours in a desperate, messy kiss.
he pulled away and looked you directly in the eyes. "open your mouth and get in your knees, ma."
you did as you were told, parting your lips.
"stick your tongue out," he commanded, his voice low and husky.
you did, sticking your tongue out as far as you could.
"good girl," he praised, his thumb stroking your cheek. "now suck."
he unhooked his towel, letting it drop to the floor, and stepped out of it. his erection sprang free, already hard and leaking.
he grabbed your hand and placed it on him, guiding you to wrap your fingers around his thick base. he groaned as the recording started.
"look at the camera, ma," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "show them how good you're doing."
you looked up at him, meeting his gaze in the mirror, while your hand worked his length.
"that's it," he murmured, watching you in the reflection. "just like that."
he leaned his head back slightly, his eyes closing as pleasure rippled through him.
"your mouth feels so good," he groaned, his hand tightening in your grip. "so fucking good."
he opened his eyes and looked at you directly in the response.
he reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head forward, forcing you to take him deeper.
"keep going, ma," he commanded, his voice rough.
you took him all the way to the back of your throat, suppressing your gag reflex, and swallowed around him.
"fuck," he hissed, his hips bucking up into your mouth. "take it all."
he continued to thrust into your mouth, his hands gripping your hair, forcing you to take him deeper and faster.
"fuck ma," he said, his hand sliding down to your ass, giving it a playful smack.
you moaned around his dick, the vibration sending a sexual shockwave through him.
"god, you're amazing," he whispered, his eyes closing again as he watched you service him.
he reached down and grabbed your hair, pulling your head back, exposing your neck to the camera.
"you’re so beautiful," he said, his hand sliding down to your collarbone. "look at me."
you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his gaze in the mirror, and he saw the tears welling up in your eyes from the pressure.
"don't cry, ma," he said, his voice softening. "i know it's a lot, but you're doing so good."
he leaned forward and kissed your neck, licking and sucking on the skin, leaving marks.
"that's it," he whispered, the camera captured the wet sounds of your mouth around his member.
he reached down and grabbed your hair, slightly.
"i'm gonna come," he groaned, his hips bucking up into your mouth.
he filled your mouth with his hot seed, and you swallowed every drop, showing him the empty mouth afterwards.
"swallow it all, ma," he said, his voice husky.
you swallowed every drop, looking up at him with a satisfied smile.
"good girl," he said, he ended the video.
"was that good?" you asked.
"that was perfect," he said, kissing you deeply. "now, let's post this."
you're sitting on the edge of his balcony, legs dangling over the city lights. jermajesty's apartment is always warm, always smells like vanilla and something else—something earthy that clings to his hoodies and makes you bury your face in them when he's not looking.
"you sure you wanna smoke out here, ma?" he asks, sliding the glass door open wider. he's wearing those sweatpants you like, the grey ones, and a white tank that shows off his shoulders. "it's cold."
"it's pretty," you say, swinging your legs. "come sit with me."
he does, settling behind you so you can lean back against his chest. he wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder. you can feel him smiling against your neck.
"you got everything?" you ask.
"yeah, yeah. hold on." he reaches back into the apartment and grabs a small tray, a grinder, some papers. his hands are gentle when he rolls, tongue poking out in concentration like he always does. you watch his fingers work, familiar and precise.
"you're staring," he says, not looking up.
"'cause you're pretty," you say back, and he laughs, that low sound that vibrates through his chest into your back.
he finishes the joint and lights it, taking the first hit before offering it to you. you turn your head, accepting it from his fingers. the smoke is smooth, familiar. you've done this before—plenty of times—but something about doing it with him, here, with the city glittering below, feels different. better.
"there you go," he murmurs, watching you exhale. his hand comes up to stroke your hair, fingers threading through your braids. "that's my girl."
you pass it back and he takes another drag, holding it for a second before blowing it out slow. the smoke curls up into the night air, disappearing above you.
"you feel it yet?" he asks, voice soft.
"mm, starting to," you say, your body already loosening, melting into him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and he adjusts, holding you closer. "you?"
"yeah," he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. "you're warm."
"you're warmer."
he laughs again and takes your hand, interlacing your fingers. the joint burns down between you, shared and easy, no rush. when it's done he sets it aside and just holds you, rocking slightly, humming something under his breath that you think might be an old jackson five song but you're too floaty to be sure.
"ma," he says, pressing a kiss to your temple. "you good?"
"yeah," you sigh, closing your eyes. "i'm good. you're here."
"always," he promises, and you believe him. you always do.
the city lights blur a little, soft around the edges, and everything feels hazy and golden. his thumb traces circles on your palm and you turn your head, finding his mouth without trying too hard. the kiss is slow, unhurried, tastes like smoke and him.
"love you," he mumbles against your lips, and you feel it in your chest, warm and blooming.
"love you too, majesty," you whisper back, and he pulls you closer, burying his face in your neck, breathing you in.
you stay like that for a while, tangled together on the balcony, high and happy and completely at peace. the world can wait. right now, you have everything you need.
synopsis: after months of trying to move on, one chaotic family gathering forces you and jermajesty to finally confront what neither of you wants to admit.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ angst(?) ⊹ your boyfriend being an asshole ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ toxic baby daddy.ᐟjermajesty
requested by annon.
A/N: this one is like really long
jovonnie had finally fallen asleep after spending most of the morning refusing to nap.
toys covered the living room floor.
a cartoon played quietly in the background.
and you were halfway through folding laundry when jermajesty walked through the front door without warning.
again.
he always did that.
“where’s my son?” jermajesty asked as he kicked the front door shut behind him and dropped his keys onto the kitchen counter.
“sleeping,” you answered as you continued folding one of jovonnie’s tiny shirts and deliberately kept your attention on the laundry basket.
“good,” jermajesty replied as he opened your refrigerator and immediately started searching through it.
your eye twitched.
slightly.
“why are you in my refrigerator?” you questioned as you looked up from the couch cushions and stared at him in disbelief.
“because i’m thirsty,” jermajesty answered as he grabbed a bottle of water and twisted the cap open without an ounce of shame.
“you don’t live here,” you reminded as you crossed your arms and watched him take a drink.
“i know,” jermajesty replied as he leaned against the counter and shrugged casually.
“then stop acting like you do,” you snapped as you threw a pair of socks into the laundry basket harder than necessary.
“what’s your problem today?” jermajesty asked as he lowered the water bottle and studied your face carefully.
that question should not have annoyed you as much as it did.
unfortunately, it did.
because it felt unfair.
because it felt oblivious.
because jermajesty somehow managed to create half your problems and then act confused when you finally reacted.
“my problem?” you repeated as you let out a short laugh and stood up from the couch.
“yeah,” jermajesty replied as he shifted his weight against the counter and folded his arms.
“you are my problem,” you admitted as you pointed directly at him and felt months of frustration begin rising to the surface.
the room went silent.
immediately.
jermajesty’s expression changed.
the casual confidence disappeared.
something more cautious took its place.
“what’s that supposed to mean?” jermajesty asked as he straightened slightly and lowered his arms.
“it means i’m tired,” you answered as you paced across the living room and dragged a hand through your hair.
“tired of what?” jermajesty questioned as he stepped away from the counter and followed you with his eyes.
“tired of whatever this is,” you replied as you gestured angrily between the two of you and felt your voice crack.
jermajesty opened his mouth.
then closed it again.
because he knew exactly what you meant.
“y/n—” jermajesty started as he rubbed the back of his neck and took a hesitant step forward.
“no,” you interrupted as you shook your head firmly and held up a hand.
he stopped moving.
“every single time i start moving on, you show up,” you continued as you looked directly at him and refused to look away.
“i come here to see my son,” jermajesty argued as frustration crept into his voice and his jaw tightened.
“and then you stay for four hours,” you pointed out as you crossed your arms tighter against your chest.
jermajesty didn’t answer.
because he couldn’t.
both of you knew he couldn’t.
“you don’t get to act like my boyfriend whenever it’s convenient and then disappear whenever things get difficult,” you confessed as tears threatened to gather in your eyes.
the words hung between you.
heavy.
painful.
honest.
“that’s not what i’m doing,” jermajesty replied as he looked down at the floor and shook his head.
“then what are you doing?” you asked as your voice softened and genuine confusion replaced some of the anger.
he looked up.
you looked back.
and neither of you had an answer.
because neither of you knew.
that was the problem.
you had spent years trying.
years loving each other.
years breaking up and getting back together.
years convincing yourselves that this time would be different.
it never was.
“we tried,” you said quietly as you lowered your gaze and wrapped your arms around yourself.
jermajesty’s shoulders slumped.
immediately.
“i know,” jermajesty admitted as he exhaled heavily and ran both hands over his face.
“we really tried,” you continued as you glanced toward the hallway where jovonnie slept peacefully.
“i know,” jermajesty repeated as he nodded slowly and stared at the floor.
“and it didn’t work,” you finished as your voice broke slightly despite your best efforts.
silence followed.
then another silence.
then one more.
until finally—
“what are you saying?” jermajesty asked as he lifted his head and searched your face carefully.
“i’m saying maybe it’s time for us to move on,” you answered as you swallowed hard and forced yourself to say the words.
for the first time all afternoon, jermajesty looked genuinely hurt.
not angry.
not irritated.
hurt.
like you’d physically hit him.
“you mean that?” jermajesty questioned as he stared at you and waited.
you hated how much the answer hurt.
“yeah,” you admitted as you nodded once and looked away before you could change your mind.
for a long moment, jermajesty said nothing.
then he grabbed his keys.
then he walked toward the front door.
then he stopped.
“i’ll pick jovonnie up saturday,” jermajesty said quietly as he stood with one hand on the doorknob and kept his back turned toward you.
“okay,” you replied as you wiped at your eyes and stared at the floor.
“okay,” jermajesty echoed as he opened the door and stepped outside.
and just like that—for the first time in years
he actually left.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
moving on turned out to be significantly harder than either of you expected.
at first, you convinced yourself it was working.
there were no surprise visits.
no random phone calls that somehow lasted three hours.
no arguments that turned into laughter.
no moments where you caught yourself believing things might be different this time.
there was just silence.
clean.
simple.
painful silence.
the kind that settled into your routine until you almost started getting used to it.
almost.
because every time jovonnie came back from spending time with his dad, something managed to ruin your progress.
sometimes it was a picture.
sometimes it was a story.
sometimes it was something as simple as your son mentioning jermajesty twenty times in a single afternoon.
“daddy said i run really really fast,” jovonnie announced proudly as he climbed onto your couch and nearly dropped a juice box onto the cushions.
“did he?” you asked as you looked up from your laptop and smiled softly.
“super fast,” jovonnie confirmed as he stretched his arms out dramatically and almost fell backward.
you laughed.
despite yourself.
because it sounded exactly like something jermajesty would say.
which was unfortunate.
because you were trying very hard not to think about him.
the same thing was happening on the other side.
according to jaafar.
and paris.
and basically everyone else.
jermajesty wasn’t moving on very well either.
unfortunately, he was trying.
which somehow made everything worse.
“you’re dating?” paris asked as she nearly choked on her drink during lunch one afternoon and stared at you in disbelief.
“it’s not serious,” you answered as you picked at your fries and deliberately avoided eye contact.
“that’s not what i asked,” paris pointed out as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
“yes,” you admitted as you sighed heavily and leaned back in your chair.
paris immediately groaned.
“this is gonna end badly,” paris predicted as she rubbed her forehead and looked toward the ceiling.
“thanks for the support,” you replied as you rolled your eyes.
“i’m serious,” paris argued as she pointed directly at you across the table.
“he’s nice,” you insisted as you crossed your arms defensively.
“that’s not the issue.”
“then what’s the issue?”
paris stared.
just stared.
which annoyed you.
because you already knew exactly what she was thinking.
“don’t,” you warned as you pointed a fry in her direction.
“you still love jermajesty,” paris stated as she folded her arms and sat back in her chair.
“that’s not the point.”
“notice how you didn’t deny it.”
you immediately hated her.
just a little.
mostly because she was right.
weeks later, family day arrived.
normally, those events were chaotic.
today felt worse.
the entire jackson family had gathered at one of the larger family properties.
music played through outdoor speakers.
kids ran across the backyard.
food covered nearly every table.
everywhere you looked somebody was laughing.
talking.
arguing.
taking pictures.
jaafar was attempting to teach jovonnie how to throw a football.
prince was filming the entire thing.
bigi was laughing so hard he could barely hold his phone straight.
for a little while, you managed to relax.
then a black suv pulled into the driveway.
and your stomach immediately dropped.
because deep down—
you already knew.
the driver’s side door opened first.
jermajesty stepped out.
your heart betrayed you instantly.
then the passenger door opened.
and everything became worse.
much worse.
she was beautiful.
ridiculously beautiful.
long blonde hair.
perfect makeup.
designer sunglasses.
expensive clothes.
the kind of woman who looked like she belonged on magazine covers.
the complete opposite of you.
which made your stomach twist immediately.
“oh no,” paris muttered as she appeared beside you and followed your line of sight.
“don’t.”
“i didn’t even say anything.”
“you were about to.”
“yeah,” paris admitted as she winced dramatically.
you looked away.
immediately.
because staring wasn’t going to help.
unfortunately, that became impossible the second they reached the backyard.
the woman—ava, apparently—had absolutely no concept of personal space.
or maybe she did.
maybe she just didn’t care.
because the second she sat down, she practically attached herself to jermajesty’s side.
every conversation involved touching him.
every laugh involved touching him.
every sentence involved touching him.
you hated it.
deeply.
irrationally.
completely.
which only got worse when you noticed jermajesty didn’t seem particularly interested.
“baby, sit closer,” ava requested as she wrapped both hands around his arm and tugged him toward her.
“i’m fine here,” jermajesty replied as he gently pulled his arm free and reached for his drink instead.
“you’re so mean,” ava complained as she pouted dramatically and leaned against his shoulder anyway.
jermajesty looked exhausted.
which should not have made you feel better.
and yet.
somehow.
it did.
hours passed.
every time you tried convincing yourself you didn’t care, ava did something else.
she sat in his lap.
you wanted to scream.
she played with his chain.
you wanted to leave.
she kept calling him baby every five seconds.
you wanted to fight somebody.
probably yourself.
because none of this should have mattered.
he wasn’t your boyfriend.
he wasn’t even your ex-boyfriend anymore.
not really.
the two of you had agreed to move on.
so why did it feel so awful watching him do exactly that?
“mommy.”
jovonnie’s voice snapped you back to reality.
you immediately looked down.
“yeah, baby?” you asked as you crouched beside him and fixed the collar of his shirt.
“why are you sad?” jovonnie questioned as he tilted his head and studied your face carefully.
your heart cracked.
immediately.
because children noticed everything.
“i’m not sad,” you answered as you brushed a hand through his curls and forced a smile.
jovonnie looked unconvinced.
exactly like his father.
which was unfortunate.
very unfortunate.
because you were already struggling enough.
across the yard, jermajesty happened to look over.
his eyes immediately landed on you.
then jovonnie.
then back on you.
something shifted in his expression.
concern.
familiar concern.
the kind you’d spent years pretending didn’t affect you.
and for a brief second, before ava grabbed his arm again—
it felt exactly like old times.
which was the problem.
because old times were never really gone.
they were just waiting.
waiting for one of you to stop pretending first.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
if there was one thing worse than watching ava hang all over jermajesty for three straight hours, it was the realization that your own boyfriend was running late.
very late.
late enough that multiple people had already asked where he was.
late enough that even paris had started making comments.
late enough that you were beginning to regret inviting him at all.
the relationship wasn’t terrible.
that was the problem.
it wasn’t terrible.
it just wasn’t right.
he was nice enough.
funny enough.
attractive enough.
everything about him was technically fine.
but every conversation felt like work.
every date felt scheduled.
every compliment felt rehearsed.
and no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, there was always a comparison sitting in the back of your mind.
a comparison that wasn’t fair to anyone involved.
especially him.
your phone buzzed.
you looked down immediately.
running late.
be there soon.
you stared at the message.
then sighed.
then locked your phone again.
“still not here?” paris questioned as she dropped into the chair beside you and stole one of your fries.
“apparently not,” you answered as you watched jovonnie run across the yard with prince chasing after him.
paris followed your gaze.
then glanced toward jermajesty.
then looked back at you.
you immediately pointed a finger at her.
“don’t.”
“i literally didn’t say anything.”
“your face said enough.”
paris laughed.
because she knew you were right.
before either of you could continue, a familiar voice echoed from the front of the property.
“baby!”
you closed your eyes.
immediately.
because somehow he always managed to be loud.
very loud.
several heads turned.
including jermajesty’s.
your boyfriend finally appeared carrying a gift bag in one hand and sunglasses in the other.
he immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders.
a little too tightly.
a little too possessively.
“there she is,” he announced as he kissed your cheek and looked around the yard.
you forced a smile.
“you’re late,” you pointed out as you adjusted the sleeve of your shirt.
“traffic was crazy,” he replied as he shrugged casually and looked completely unbothered.
paris immediately stood.
“i’m leaving before something happens,” paris announced as she grabbed her drink and walked away.
you frowned.
“what does that mean?” you called after her.
“you’ll see,” paris replied as she pointed vaguely toward the yard and kept walking.
you didn’t like that answer.
not even a little.
for a while things remained okay.
awkward.
but okay.
your boyfriend introduced himself to people he hadn’t met.
talked to some of the family members.
played with jovonnie for a few minutes.
everything seemed manageable.
then he noticed jermajesty.
which immediately became a problem.
because jermajesty had wandered over to help jovonnie build something near one of the picnic tables.
because jovonnie adored his father.
because jermajesty was being a good dad.
and because your boyfriend apparently interpreted that as a competition.
“that’s him?” your boyfriend questioned as he watched jermajesty from across the yard.
you already disliked his tone.
“that’s jovonnie’s dad,” you answered carefully as you folded your arms.
“he keeps looking over here.”
you sighed.
he wasn’t.
or at least not intentionally.
“he’s watching his son,” you explained as patiently as possible.
your boyfriend laughed.
a short.
dismissive laugh.
one that immediately irritated you.
“right.”
you stared.
“what is that supposed to mean?” you questioned as your eyebrows pulled together.
“nothing,” your boyfriend replied as he lifted both hands innocently.
it absolutely wasn’t nothing.
you knew it.
he knew it.
everybody knew it.
the situation somehow got worse twenty minutes later.
jovonnie had managed to convince jermajesty to push him on a swing.
which meant jermajesty was currently standing near the playground area.
which meant your boyfriend somehow decided that was the perfect time to approach him.
you noticed immediately.
so did jaafar.
so did prince.
so did basically everyone.
because suddenly the entire family seemed interested in whatever was happening.
“oh brother,” jaafar muttered as he lowered his drink and watched the scene unfold.
“should we stop this?” bigi questioned as he glanced between everyone nervously.
“give it thirty seconds,” prince replied as he immediately pulled out his phone.
“why are you recording?” royal asked as he looked at prince in disbelief.
“for historical purposes.”
“you’re terrible.”
“thank you.”
meanwhile, across the yard—
your boyfriend had already reached jermajesty.
“what’s up?” your boyfriend greeted as he shoved both hands into his pockets and stood beside the swing set.
jermajesty glanced up.
immediately.
“what’s good?” jermajesty replied as he continued pushing jovonnie gently.
for a moment everything seemed fine.
then—
“heard a lot about you.”
there it was.
the tone.
jermajesty’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“that so?” jermajesty questioned as he finally stopped the swing and looked directly at him.
“yeah.”
“hopefully good things.”
your boyfriend laughed again.
that same laugh.
that same annoying laugh.
the one that sounded like he thought he was winning an argument nobody else knew was happening.
“depends who you ask.”
across the yard, you immediately stood.
because absolutely not.
“oh my god,” paris whispered as she reappeared beside you out of nowhere.
“i’m gonna kill him.”
“which one?”
“both.”
paris nodded.
fair.
back at the swing set, jermajesty’s patience was visibly disappearing.
“you got something to say?” jermajesty questioned as he folded his arms and stepped away from the swing.
your boyfriend shrugged.
“just seems like you’re around a lot for an ex.”
the entire backyard went silent.
completely silent.
even the music somehow felt quieter.
jermajesty’s jaw tightened.
immediately.
“i’m around because my son lives here.”
“sure.”
“what’s that supposed to mean?” jermajesty questioned as he took another step forward.
“means i know what it looks like.”
you started walking.
fast.
very fast.
because there was absolutely no way this conversation was ending well.
“what exactly does it look like?” jermajesty asked as he laughed once and shook his head.
“looks like you can’t let go.”
bad.
very bad.
horrible actually.
because suddenly every jackson family member looked ready to intervene.
even worse—
the statement wasn’t entirely wrong.
which somehow made everything more uncomfortable.
jermajesty’s eyes immediately found yours across the yard.
just for a second.
just long enough.
then he looked back at your boyfriend.
“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” jermajesty replied as his voice dropped noticeably lower.
“i know enough.”
“and i know you’re standing in front of my son acting stupid.”
jovonnie looked between them.
confused.
which was enough.
immediately enough.
because jermajesty’s expression changed the second he noticed his son watching.
the anger disappeared.
not completely.
but enough.
he stepped back.
looked down at jovonnie.
then shook his head.
“i’m not doing this,” jermajesty stated as he turned away and picked his son up instead.
your boyfriend laughed.
again.
mistake.
huge mistake.
because this time even you were annoyed.
deeply annoyed.
and judging by the look on jaafar’s face—
you weren’t the only one.
something was about to happen.
and you had a terrible feeling it was only the beginning.
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ 𐚁°
the second jermajesty walked away with jovonnie in his arms, you felt every muscle in your body tense.
because you knew him.
better than anyone.
better than ava.
better than your boyfriend.
better than half the people standing in the yard.
and the thing about jermajesty was that the quiet version was always more dangerous than the loud version.
if he was yelling, you knew exactly what he was thinking.
if he was calm, somebody needed to start worrying.
preferably immediately.
“what was that?” you questioned as you turned toward your boyfriend and stared at him in disbelief.
your boyfriend shrugged.
completely unapologetic.
“what?” he asked as he looked around innocently.
“don’t do that,” you warned as you crossed your arms and lowered your voice.
“do what?” your boyfriend questioned as he rolled his eyes.
“start problems.”
“i didn’t start anything.”
you laughed.
once.
disbelievingly.
because that answer was ridiculous.
“you literally walked over there looking for an argument,” you pointed out as you gestured toward the swing set where the entire interaction had happened.
“i asked a question.”
“you knew exactly what you were doing.”
your boyfriend’s expression immediately changed.
not angry.
annoyed.
which somehow made everything worse.
“why are you defending him?” your boyfriend questioned as he folded his arms.
you froze.
slightly.
because that wasn’t the point.
or at least it wasn’t supposed to be.
“i’m not defending him,” you answered as you rubbed your forehead and exhaled heavily.
“looks like it.”
“he’s the father of my child.”
“he’s also your ex.”
there it was.
the real issue.
finally.
your boyfriend wasn’t angry about jermajesty.
he was threatened by him.
which honestly wasn’t surprising.
because everybody seemed threatened by jermajesty eventually.
mostly because nobody ever figured out where they stood with him.
you included.
“what are you trying to say?” you questioned as your eyebrows pulled together.
your boyfriend hesitated.
then made a mistake.
a massive mistake.
“i’m saying maybe he should learn some boundaries.”
you immediately looked away.
not because you agreed.
because you knew exactly who had heard that.
jermajesty.
of course.
somewhere behind you, silence settled.
the bad kind.
the kind that made entire conversations stop.
the kind that made people suddenly become interested in absolutely anything else.
you closed your eyes.
slowly.
“oh no,” paris whispered from somewhere nearby.
“why do you sound excited?” royal questioned as he looked at her suspiciously.
“because i’ve been waiting all afternoon.”
“that’s insane.”
“thank you.”
you turned around.
jermajesty was standing there.
jovonnie balanced comfortably on his hip.
his expression unreadable.
which somehow felt worse than anger.
much worse.
“you got a problem with me being around my son?” jermajesty questioned as he looked directly at your boyfriend.
your boyfriend immediately straightened.
because apparently common sense had left the building.
“No,” your boyfriend answered as he lifted his chin slightly.
“good,” jermajesty replied as he adjusted jovonnie against his side.
“but—”
and there it was.
the word that ruined everything.
but.
you wanted to scream.
“but i think there’s a difference between being around your son and being around y/n every second.”
the backyard collectively stopped breathing.
you were pretty sure even the birds got quiet.
jaafar immediately covered his face, prince looked thrilled, and randy looked exhausted.
paris looked like she was watching her favorite television show.
“please stop talking,” you begged as you rubbed both hands over your face.
nobody listened.
of course.
because that would’ve been too easy.
jermajesty’s eyes shifted toward you briefly.
just briefly.
then returned to your boyfriend.
“you think i’m here because of y/n?” jermajesty questioned as a humorless laugh escaped him.
“i think everybody can see it.”
your stomach dropped.
because suddenly nobody was looking at your boyfriend anymore.
they were looking at jermajesty.
waiting.
watching.
expecting.
and for the first time all day—
he didn’t immediately deny it.
that should’ve been your first clue.
instead, he just stared.
which somehow told you everything.
ava noticed too.
you could tell.
because her smile disappeared instantly.
completely.
“jer?” ava questioned as she stepped closer and touched his arm gently.
jermajesty didn’t react.
not really.
which was another clue.
a very bad clue.
your boyfriend noticed.
everyone noticed.
“see?” your boyfriend asked as he laughed.
that laugh.
again.
always that laugh.
you officially hated it.
“okay, that’s enough,” jaafar announced as he finally stood from his chair and started walking over.
“seriously,” randy agreed as he followed behind him.
“y’all are doing this in front of the baby.”
that part finally seemed to register.
because jovonnie looked confused.
very confused.
his tiny arms wrapped around jermajesty’s neck.
his little face moving between everyone.
trying to understand.
and suddenly the entire situation felt stupid.
all of it.
every bit.
“can everybody stop?” you asked as your voice cracked unexpectedly.
immediately.
every head turned toward you.
you hated that.
especially because tears were already threatening to form.
which was embarrassing.
very embarrassing.
“i’m serious,” you continued as you shook your head and looked away. “just stop.”
silence.
then more silence.
then:
“mommy?”
jovonnie’s voice.
small.
confused.
worried.
that did it.
completely.
you turned away before anyone could see your face.
and started walking.
fast.
toward the back of the property.
toward the lake.
toward literally anywhere else.
you heard somebody call your name.
then somebody else.
then another voice.
you ignored all of them.
until…
“y/n.”
that one stopped you.
because it was him.
of course it was him.
jermajesty.
you turned around.
he was alone.
no jovonnie.
no ava.
no crowd.
just him.
for the first time all day.
“what?” you asked as you wiped quickly at your eyes and immediately looked away.
jermajesty exhaled heavily.
then ran a hand over his face.
then laughed once.
the tired kind.
the defeated kind.
the kind you knew too well.
“i’m tired,” jermajesty admitted as he stared out at the water instead of looking at you.
your chest tightened immediately.
because you knew exactly what he meant.
you were tired too.
very tired.
“me too,” you answered quietly as you stepped closer.
for a moment neither of you spoke.
the distance between you suddenly felt very small.
dangerously small.
then jermajesty finally looked at you.
really looked at you.
and the expression on his face made your heart hurt.
because it looked exactly how you felt.
miserable.
in love.
and completely stuck.
“i hate seeing you with him,” jermajesty confessed as he shook his head and laughed bitterly.
synopsis: you should’ve known better than to film a Q&A with your freaky boyfriend.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ sexual acts mentioned ⊹ blackyoutuber.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ freaky.ᐟjermajesty
requested by annon.
the camera had been recording for less than thirty seconds and jermajesty was already being a problem.
not a surprising problem.
not even a new problem.
just the same familiar kind of problem that appeared every single time he was placed in front of a camera and given an audience.
some people became nervous when they were being recorded. some people became awkward. some people forgot how to act.
jermajesty somehow became worse.
he became himself.
which was exactly why your subscribers loved him.
and exactly why you regretted inviting him into today's video.
"what's up, y'all?" you greeted as you adjusted your position on the couch, smiling directly at the camera while jermajesty immediately started waving both hands beside your face.
"what's good?" jermajesty added as he leaned forward into the frame, flashing a grin that already looked suspicious.
you narrowed your eyes.
immediately.
"why do you look like that?" you questioned as you turned toward him, already feeling concerned for the future of this video.
"look like what?" he asked as he placed a hand over his chest dramatically, pretending to be offended.
"like you're about to embarrass me," you answered as you pointed directly at him, refusing to let him play innocent.
"that's crazy," he replied as he shook his head in disbelief. "you don't trust me at all."
"correct," you confirmed as you nodded seriously toward the camera.
jermajesty gasped.
the performance deserved an award.
"see?" he complained as he turned toward the camera. "this is what i go through every day."
"anyway," you interrupted as you rolled your eyes, refusing to let him continue. "today we're doing a q&a because y'all have been asking for one forever."
"and because y'all are nosy," jermajesty added as he folded his arms across his chest.
"that too," you admitted as you laughed.
you reached for your phone.
the list of questions stretched forever.
which was either a good sign or a terrible sign.
you hadn't decided yet.
"okay," you began as you scrolled down. "first question. how did you two meet?"
"you answer it," jermajesty instructed as he pointed toward you.
"i answer it every time," you argued as you looked over at him.
"because you tell it better," he replied as he shrugged casually.
you rolled your eyes.
"we met through jaafar, his brother," you explained as you looked back toward the camera. "and i thought he was annoying."
"which was disrespectful," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.
"you were annoying," you continued as you laughed.
"you loved me," he corrected as he pointed at himself confidently.
"eventually," you admitted as you smiled despite yourself.
"thank you," he replied as he nodded proudly.
you hated how satisfied he looked.
"next question," you said quickly as you looked back down at your phone.
"how long have y'all been together?"
"four years," jermajesty answered immediately as he rested his arm along the back of the couch.
"almost five," you added as you leaned against his shoulder briefly.
"that's my wife," he announced as he pointed toward you.
"we're not married," you corrected as you laughed.
"yet," he replied casually.
you stared at him.
he stared back.
then grinned.
the comments section was already going to be unbearable.
"moving on," you muttered as you scrolled faster.
jermajesty started laughing.
"what's your favorite thing about each other?" you read aloud as you continued scrolling.
"you go first," jermajesty replied as he looked toward you.
you thought for a moment.
"my favorite thing about him is probably how dependable he is," you answered as you glanced over at him. "if i need something, he's there."
his expression softened immediately.
"aw," he said quietly as he looked down.
"don't get emotional," you warned as you pointed at him.
"i'm not emotional," he argued as he sat up straighter.
"your eyes literally got watery."
"mind your business."
you laughed.
"what's your favorite thing about me?" you asked as you nudged his arm.
jermajesty looked at you.
then looked at the camera.
then looked back at you.
you already knew that look.
"choose your next words carefully," you warned as you narrowed your eyes.
he started laughing.
immediately.
"i like everything," he answered as he held his hands up defensively.
"mm-hmm."
"i'm serious."
"mm-hmm."
"your personality," he added quickly.
"okay."
"your smile."
"okay."
"your laugh."
"okay."
"and—" he paused dramatically before continuing, "the way you look when i'm inside you."
you choked on air.
"jermajesty!" you screeched as you covered his mouth with your hand.
he mumbled something against your palm.
"don't you dare," you warned as you pulled your hand back.
"what?" he asked innocently as he blinked slowly. "it's my favorite thing."
"we're skipping that," you declared as you scrolled faster.
"skip that one," jermajesty said immediately as he saw the next question over your shoulder.
"you didn't even read it."
"i can tell."
you looked at the screen.
then immediately covered your face.
"absolutely not," you said as you shook your head.
jermajesty looked far too interested.
"read it," he encouraged as he leaned closer.
"no."
"read it."
"no."
"coward."
"we're skipping it," you declared as you continued scrolling.
"for the record," jermajesty said as he looked directly into the camera, "i had an answer."
"and nobody wants to hear it."
"i think they do."
"next question."
the argument continued for another thirty seconds.
you eventually won.
barely.
"who said i love you first?" you read.
"you."
"i did not."
"you definitely did."
"i absolutely did not."
jermajesty immediately sat forward.
"you literally did," he insisted as he pointed at you. "right after i made you come for the third time."
you froze.
"jermajesty," you warned through gritted teeth.
"what?" he asked as he shrugged. "it's true."
"we're not talking about that," you hissed as you glanced nervously at the camera.
"why not?" he questioned as he leaned closer. "they asked."
"because my subscribers don't need to know about our sex life," you explained as quietly as possible.
"i think they do," he whispered back as his hand slid to your thigh. "especially the part where you—"
"next question!" you announced loudly as you slapped his hand away.
jermajesty chuckled as he watched you scramble.
"what's the biggest argument you've ever had?" you asked as you read the next question.
both of you immediately started laughing.
"we can't tell that story," he replied as he shook his head.
"absolutely not."
"we looked ridiculous."
"completely ridiculous."
"it lasted three days."
"and neither of us was right."
"facts."
you nodded.
some memories deserved privacy.
especially embarrassing ones.
"what's one thing your boyfriend does that annoys you?" you continued.
you didn't even hesitate.
"everything."
jermajesty gasped dramatically.
"everything?" he repeated as he looked genuinely offended.
"everything."
"wow."
"everything."
"that's crazy."
"everything."
jermajesty stared at the camera.
"y'all seeing this?" he questioned as he pointed toward you.
you couldn't stop laughing.
"okay, my turn," he announced as he sat up straighter.
"fine."
"you steal my hoodies."
"they're comfortable."
"you steal my chargers."
"you have extras."
"you steal my snacks."
"our snacks."
"see?" he said as he pointed toward you.
"that's called sharing."
"that's called robbery."
the two of you argued about snacks for five straight minutes.
somehow.
nobody knew how.
"okay," you said eventually as you wiped tears from your eyes. "last question."
"make it a good one."
you scrolled.
then smiled.
"what's something you hope never changes about your relationship?"
the room became quieter.
not sad.
not awkward.
just softer.
jermajesty looked at you.
you looked back.
and suddenly neither of you was joking anymore.
"i hope we're always friends," you admitted as you tucked your legs underneath yourself. "seriously."
he nodded.
immediately.
"same," he agreed as he looked down briefly. "because you're my favorite person."
your heart melted.
instantly.
"that was cute," you admitted quietly.
"i know."
"don't make it weird."
"i'm trying not to."
you laughed.
he laughed too.
and just like that, the mood felt normal again.
comfortable.
easy.
home.
"alright," you concluded as you looked toward the camera once more. "that's all the questions we're answering today."
"because she keeps skipping the good ones," jermajesty interrupted as he shook his head.
"because you can't behave," you replied as you rolled your eyes.
"that's fair," he admitted as he shrugged casually.
"thank y'all for watching," you said as you smiled at the camera.
"like, comment, subscribe," jermajesty added as he pulled you closer.
"and stop asking weird questions," you warned playfully.
"keep asking weird questions," he countered with a grin.
you were nine years old, still new enough to your elementary school that hallways felt like mazes and teachers still mispronounced your last name during attendance.
your younger sibling attended classes on the opposite side of campus, tucked away with the younger grades where colorful posters covered every available wall and every classroom smelled vaguely like crayons.
your mother had asked you to grab your sibling after school.
it should’ve taken five minutes.
instead, you found a crying little boy sitting cross-legged beside the playground fence.
his shoulders shook with every sniffle. his face was red. his hands clutched a broken toy car so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
you slowed immediately.
most kids would’ve kept walking.
you didn’t.
“are you okay?” you asked gently, crouching beside him while setting your backpack on the ground.
the little boy looked up with watery eyes. “no,” he admitted miserably, rubbing his face with his sleeve.
your heart squeezed.
“what happened?” you asked softly, tilting your head while studying the broken toy.
the little boy looked down at it again. “i broke it,” he mumbled, his voice wobbling slightly.
you frowned.
“that doesn’t seem like the end of the world,” you said carefully, offering a small smile.
the little boy shook his head immediately. “it is,” he insisted, holding up the broken car. “it belongs to my brother.”
you glanced at the toy again.
one wheel hung awkwardly from the side.
it looked fixable.
probably.
“maybe he’ll understand,” you suggested quietly, hoping that was true.
the little boy laughed once, except it sounded more like a sob.
“you don’t know my brother,” he said dramatically, dropping his head into his hands.
you almost smiled.
before you could answer, two voices echoed from farther down the sidewalk.
“i told you he’d still be here,” a boy called confidently while jogging toward the playground.
another smaller voice followed behind him.
“i told you he was probably crying,” the younger child replied immediately.
the crying boy groaned.
“see,” he complained, pointing accusingly toward the approaching figures. “that’s him.”
you looked up.
the older boy approaching couldn’t have been much older than you.
maybe ten.
he carried himself with the kind of confidence only children possessed, the kind that came from believing they knew everything despite knowing almost nothing at all.
he stopped the second he reached the fence.
his eyes landed on his younger brother.
then on the broken car.
then on you.
the younger child beside him looked equally curious.
“why are you sitting on the ground?” the older boy asked, folding his arms while trying and failing to hide his amusement.
his brother immediately looked guilty.
“i broke it,” he admitted quietly, holding out the damaged toy.
you expected anger.
instead, the older boy blinked.
then laughed.
actually laughed.
the little boy stared.
you stared.
even the younger child beside him looked confused.
“that’s why you’re crying?” the older boy asked between laughs, accepting the broken car.
the little boy’s mouth dropped open.
“you said not to touch it,” he argued, standing up so fast he nearly tripped over himself.
the older boy shrugged.
“yeah,” he replied casually, turning the toy over in his hands. “but now i know it breaks.”
the younger brother looked genuinely offended.
“i cried for twenty minutes,” he complained, throwing his arms into the air.
the older boy immediately laughed harder.
you couldn’t help it.
you laughed too.
the little boy pointed dramatically.
“everybody’s making fun of me,” he declared.
the younger child beside the older boy snorted.
“because this is funny,” he replied honestly.
the older boy finally noticed you properly.
“who are you?” he asked, shifting his attention toward you.
you stood up, brushing dirt from your jeans.
“i’m y/n,” you introduced yourself, adjusting your backpack strap.
the older boy nodded once.
“i’m jaafar,” he replied, extending his hand confidently.
you shook it.
the crying boy pointed to himself next.
“i’m jermajesty,” he said proudly, as though everybody should already know.
the younger child rolled his eyes.
“and i’m her little sibling,” your sibling announced from beside jaafar, clearly annoyed nobody had acknowledged them yet.
everybody laughed.
that should’ve been the end of it.
it wasn’t.
because the next afternoon jaafar knocked on your front door.
then the afternoon after that.
then the afternoon after that too.
within months, your families practically stopped asking permission before dropping children at each other’s houses.
you became inseparable.
the jackson house became a second home long before you realized that wasn’t normal.
jermaine treated you exactly like one of his own kids.
paris shared snacks with you whenever she thought nobody was paying attention.
prince let you tag along whenever the older cousins were hanging out, despite constantly pretending you were annoying.
randy teased you relentlessly.
tj helped with homework whenever math became too confusing.
and jermajesty followed you around so often that strangers regularly assumed he was your actual brother.
but jaafar remained your person.
always.
when you were ten, you discovered that jaafar and jermajesty had declared war on each other.
not actual war.
prank war.
which was somehow worse.
“you have to pick a side,” jermajesty informed you seriously one afternoon while hiding behind the kitchen counter.
you looked up from your juice box.
“why?” you asked, squinting suspiciously.
jermajesty leaned closer.
“because he’s evil,” he whispered dramatically, pointing toward the backyard.
you followed his finger.
jaafar stood outside recording something with a camcorder.
“what did he do?” you asked.
jermajesty looked personally victimized.
“he poured ice water on me while i was sleeping,” he answered, crossing his arms.
you winced.
“that’s rough.”
“exactly.”
you nodded thoughtfully.
then smiled.
“i’ll help.”
that became a mistake.
because suddenly you were involved.
fully involved.
aggressively involved.
the next several years became an endless cycle of recording pranks, planning revenge, and getting caught almost immediately.
one summer afternoon, you helped jermajesty fill three water balloons while crouched behind patio furniture.
“you have to distract him,” jermajesty instructed, handing you ammunition.
you nodded.
“i can do that,” you replied confidently, gripping the balloon carefully.
five minutes later, both of you got caught.
mostly because neither of you realized jaafar had been standing behind you the entire time.
“what are you doing?” he asked calmly, causing both of you to scream.
the balloon exploded immediately.
water soaked all three of you.
there was silence.
then jaafar started laughing.
jermajesty looked horrified.
you looked horrified.
the prank war escalated.
every year.
every month.
every week.
sometimes every day.
by eleven, you had poured water on jermajesty while he slept.
by twelve, jaafar had hidden your backpack before school.
by thirteen, jermajesty convinced you to help wrap jaafar’s bedroom furniture entirely in plastic wrap.
that prank lasted six hours.
jermaine nearly cried laughing.
“you kids need hobbies,” he managed between laughs while staring at the disaster.
jaafar pointed at you immediately.
“she started it.”
you gasped.
“that is a lie,” you argued, looking personally offended.
jermajesty pointed at both of you.
“you’re both criminals.”
nobody disagreed.
around that same time, things became complicated at home.
you didn’t understand why.
not really.
you only knew that your parents argued more often.
voices became louder.
doors closed harder.
nights felt heavier somehow.
you didn’t understand the words.
you didn’t understand the tension.
you only knew your mother started dropping you off at the jackson house more often.
sometimes for one night.
sometimes for several.
“you’re staying here again?” jaafar asked one evening while helping carry your overnight bag upstairs.
you shrugged.
“my mom said she’s busy.”
jaafar nodded.
he accepted that answer.
because he was thirteen.
you were twelve.
neither of you knew what was actually happening.
but jermaine knew.
the adults knew.
they never explained it to you.
they just made room.
extra blankets appeared.
your favorite snacks appeared.
nobody asked questions.
they simply made sure you felt safe.
years later you’d understand why.
at thirteen, though, all you knew was that you liked staying there.
because the house felt warm.
because the house felt loud.
because the house felt normal.
especially when jaafar was around.
which became a problem.
because thirteen was the year everything shifted.
subtly.
dangerously.
irreversibly.
it happened during a stupid game.
the kind only bored teenagers would invent.
you and jaafar were sitting alone in the game room while everybody else was elsewhere.
cards scattered across the floor.
music played quietly from somebody’s speaker.
you were both laughing when he picked up the next card.
then immediately froze.
you narrowed your eyes.
“what?” you asked suspiciously.
jaafar stared at the card.
then at you.
then back at the card.
“this game is stupid,” he muttered.
you snatched it from his hands.
your stomach dropped.
kiss the person across from you.
silence filled the room instantly.
you looked at him.
he looked at you.
neither moved.
neither spoke.
then both of you started laughing nervously.
“that’s ridiculous,” you said immediately, tossing the card aside.
jaafar nodded too quickly.
“absolutely ridiculous.”
more silence.
then somehow it happened anyway.
awkward.
brief.
barely even a kiss.
yet somehow everything changed afterward.
because for the first time, you noticed him differently.
and for the first time, he noticed you too.
which was unfortunate.
because immediately afterward, both of you made a pact.
“we are never dating each other,” you declared confidently, holding out your pinky.
jaafar linked his pinky with yours.
“never,” he agreed immediately.
both of you were lying.
neither realized it yet.
at fourteen, you got your first boyfriend.
jaafar hated him immediately.
passionately.
violently.
unreasonably.
“he’s annoying,” jaafar complained while walking beside you after school.
you rolled your eyes.
“he hasn’t even done anything.”
jaafar looked offended.
“exactly,” he argued. “i don’t trust people that boring.”
you laughed.
your boyfriend did not.
especially because every argument somehow involved jaafar.
every disagreement.
every complaint.
every conversation.
until eventually your boyfriend snapped.
“why do you always defend him?” he demanded one afternoon.
you stared.
because the answer felt obvious.
“because he’s my best friend.”
that relationship ended shortly afterward.
nobody was surprised.
least of all jaafar.
when he was fifteen, he got his first real girlfriend, alyssa.
at first she seemed nice.
you tried.
paris tried.
then things changed.
comments online appeared.
rumors spread.
stories twisted.
she started talking badly about him in public.
you were furious.
paris was worse.
“she’s lying,” you snapped one afternoon while scrolling through social media.
paris looked equally irritated.
“i know she’s lying.”
“everybody knows she’s lying.”
paris immediately nodded.
“exactly.”
the entire family defended him.
you defended him loudest.
and somewhere during all that, while watching you argue with strangers online because someone hurt him, jaafar realized something.
he was in love with you.
completely.
hopelessly.
terribly.
and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.
because you’d promised.
never.
at sixteen, things became unbearable.
you and jaafar were together constantly.
movies.
school.
family gatherings.
weekends.
holidays.
everything.
people stopped asking if you were friends.
they started assuming you were dating.
“so how long have you two been together?” strangers asked regularly.
every single time, one of you denied it.
every single time, the other felt disappointed.
neither admitted why.
neither wanted to.
because some promises are easy when you’re thirteen.
much harder when you’re sixteen.
especially when everybody else can already see the truth before you do.
synopsis: when paparazzi becomes too much for you, your boyfriend jaafar knows how to help you handle situations like this.
ᵎ!ᵎ fluff ⊹ reader being overwhelmed by paparazzi ⊹ actress.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ jaafar
requested by @szalipcombo
fame was strange because people often assumed that experience created immunity, as though standing beneath thousands of flashing cameras for years somehow taught a person how to stop feeling overwhelmed when every pair of eyes in a crowd seemed fixed on them. the reality was much less glamorous than that. experience did not erase anxiety. experience did not silence exhaustion. experience merely taught people how to hide those things more convincingly.
you had become very good at hiding them.
years of acting had transformed public appearances into something almost mechanical, a carefully practiced routine built from smiles, interviews, handshakes, and photographs. every movement carried expectation. every expression became part of a performance. every appearance demanded another version of yourself that belonged more to the public than it did to you.
most days you could manage it.
today was not most days.
the week had already left you exhausted in ways sleep could not fix, the kind of exhaustion that settled somewhere beneath the skin and lingered there stubbornly. filming delays, promotional interviews, travel schedules, and constant public attention had slowly chipped away at your patience until even small inconveniences felt larger than they should have. by the time your car pulled up outside the event venue, your social battery was already running dangerously low.
jaafar noticed immediately.
he always noticed.
somehow, despite the noise surrounding both of your careers, despite the cameras and obligations and expectations that constantly demanded your attention, he remained unusually aware of the quieter things. he noticed when your smile became forced. he noticed when your shoulders tensed. he noticed when your voice sounded slightly more tired than usual.
most importantly, he never ignored it.
"you've been staring out that window for ten minutes," jaafar observed as he adjusted the cuff of his suit jacket, watching your reflection in the tinted glass beside him.
"i'm mentally preparing myself," you admitted as you released a quiet sigh, allowing your head to rest against the seat.
"for the interviews?" jaafar questioned as he shifted slightly closer, concern softening his expression.
"for the people," you answered as you rubbed your hands together absentmindedly, already feeling overwhelmed before the evening had truly begun.
jaafar studied you carefully.
he knew that answer carried more weight than the words themselves suggested.
people were unpredictable.
people shouted.
people pushed boundaries.
people felt entitled to pieces of you that did not belong to them.
sometimes that became difficult to carry.
"we don't have to stay long," jaafar reminded as he reached over and intertwined his fingers with yours, grounding you with the familiar gesture.
you smiled faintly.
it wasn't much.
but it helped.
"that's what you said at the last event," you pointed out as you squeezed his hand gently, finally looking over at him.
"and we only stayed three hours," jaafar replied as a grin appeared on his face, amusement replacing some of his concern.
"three hours is not a short amount of time," you argued as you laughed quietly despite yourself.
"for hollywood standards, that's basically a quick visit," jaafar countered as he shrugged innocently, earning an eye roll from you.
for a brief moment the anxiety eased.
then the car stopped.
and reality returned.
outside, barricades stretched across the sidewalk while photographers crowded together behind them, cameras already raised in anticipation. security guards moved through the gathering chaos with practiced efficiency, attempting to maintain order before the arrivals began. flashes illuminated the evening air long before anyone stepped onto the carpet.
your stomach tightened.
jaafar noticed that too.
"stay close to me," jaafar said quietly as he brushed his thumb across your knuckles, offering reassurance before the door even opened.
you nodded.
normally that would've been enough.
normally you would've stepped onto the carpet, smiled for photographs, answered questions, and moved through the evening without issue.
but tonight felt different.
the moment you emerged from the vehicle, noise crashed into you from every direction.
your name echoed through the crowd repeatedly, shouted by photographers competing for attention while dozens of camera flashes erupted simultaneously. reporters called out questions before you had even reached the carpet. security attempted to create pathways through the chaos, but the crowd seemed larger than usual, louder than usual, closer than usual.
at first you managed.
you smiled.
you posed.
you answered questions.
you played the role expected of you.
then somebody pushed forward.
another voice shouted your name.
another flash exploded directly in front of your face.
another question came from somewhere behind you.
another camera.
another voice.
another demand.
the noise became impossible to separate.
everything blended together into one overwhelming wall of sound.
your heartbeat quickened.
your breathing shortened.
the crowd suddenly felt much closer than before.
too close.
far too close.
for the first time all evening, the cameras no longer felt distant.
they felt suffocating.
"y/n, over here!"
"y/n, look this way!"
"one more photo!"
"y/n!"
the voices piled on top of each other relentlessly.
your chest tightened.
the flashes blurred.
the crowd shifted.
for a terrifying second, the entire world felt too loud.
then a hand found yours.
steady.
familiar.
safe.
jaafar.
without hesitation, he stepped directly between you and the growing crowd, shielding part of your view while immediately recognizing something was wrong.
"hey, look at me," jaafar said gently as he tightened his hold on your hand, concern instantly replacing the smile he'd worn moments earlier.
you tried.
you really did.
but your breathing refused to cooperate.
"i can't do this right now," you admitted as your voice cracked slightly, panic threatening to overwhelm your composure.
jaafar's expression softened immediately.
there was no judgment.
no confusion.
no frustration.
only understanding.
"okay," jaafar replied calmly as he moved closer, keeping his voice low enough that only you could hear him.
just one word.
yet somehow it felt like permission to stop pretending.
"come on," jaafar continued as he wrapped an arm carefully around your shoulders, guiding you away from the crowd without hesitation. "let's get out of here."
for once, neither the cameras nor the reporters mattered.
for once, neither the event nor the expectations mattered.
because the only thing jaafar cared about in that moment was you.
synopsis: jermajesty shows up unexpectedly while your new boyfriend happened to be there.
ᵎ!ᵎ angst(?) ⊹ past sexual acts mentioned ⊹ language ⊹ black.ᐟ𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 ⊹ toxic baby daddy.ᐟjermajesty ⊹ arguing
requested by annon.
the living room was bathed in the soft glow of floor lamps when the lock clicked. jermajesty entered without knocking, as he always did, his keys jangling in his pocket. "where jovonnie at?" he called out, kicking off his expensive sneakers by the door.
ethan, your new boyfriend, emerged from the hallway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. "he's already asleep," he said calmly, watching as jermajesty's expression shifted from casual to territorial. "i'm ethan, by the way."
jermajesty's eyes narrowed as he took in ethan's presence. "oh shit… you got another nigga watching my son?" he asked, stepping closer until their chests almost touched. "that's what we doing now, ma?"
you rushed out from the kitchen, heart racing. "jermajesty, what are you doing here?" you demanded, positioning yourself between the two men. "ethan, this is jovonnie's father. jermajesty, this is ethan."
"oh i know exactly who this is," jermajesty replied, his voice dropping dangerously low. "ain't that the same nigga you said was just a 'friend'?" he turned his attention back to ethan, sizing him up with dismissive eyes. "you feel big putting my son to bed? playing house?"
ethan stood his ground, refusing to be intimidated. "i'm here because y/n asked me to be," he stated evenly. "if you have a problem with that, we can discuss it like adults without getting in each other's faces."
"adults?" jermajesty laughed harshly. "don't talk to me about being an adult when you in my spot." he stepped back just enough to address you directly. "so this what it’s now? you move on that quick?"
"it's not like that," you insisted, grabbing his arm. "we were just… having dinner."
"just dinner?" jermajesty's voice grew louder, causing you to flinch. "where was this 'just dinner' two days ago when you were calling me over at 2am? when you had your legs wrapped around my neck?"
ethan's jaw tightened at the graphic description. "that's enough," he said firmly. "whatever happened between you two before doesn't give you the right to show up here causing a scene."
jermajesty turned slowly, a smirk playing on his lips. "ain't nobody causing a scene. just checking on my family." he reached out to touch your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "you still look beautiful, mama. been thinking about that night."
"stop," you whispered, pulling away. "you can't just show up here saying things like that."
"why not?" jermajesty challenged, his eyes flickering between you and ethan. "we still got something, y/n. you know we do." he moved closer again, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper. "remember how you were moaning my name? that wasn't pretend."
ethan stepped forward decisively. "i think you need to leave," he said, placing himself between you and jermajesty again. "now."
jermajesty's eyes flashed with anger. "you don't get to tell me when to leave my own son's house," he snarled. "or when i can talk to his mother."
"this is not your son's house," ethan corrected. "it's y/n's house. and you're making her uncomfortable."
"y/n?" jermajesty laughed, turning to you. "he calling you y/n like he knows you. like he knows how to when you when you're stressed. like he knows what makes you cry."
tears welled in your eyes as you felt trapped between your past and present. "please don't do this," you begged softly. "not tonight."
"don't do what?" jermajesty asked, his voice softening slightly as he focused on you. "just stating facts. we got history. we got a kid together." he reached for your hand. "we love love each other."
"the kind of love that involves showing up unannounced and threatening people?" ethan interjected dryly. "sounds unhealthy."
"oh, and you’re the expert on healthy relationships?" jermajesty shot back. "how long you known her? couple weeks? months?" he squeezed your hand gently. "i’ve known her since we were teenagers. i know every scar on her body. i know what she looks like when she's about to cum."
"uhm that's disgusting," ethan said, his face hardening. "you don't respect her at all."
"i respect her more than you ever could," jermajesty countered, finally releasing your hand to step toward ethan again. "i was there when she found out she was pregnant. i was there through the morning sickness. i was there when she was crying at 3am because the baby wouldn't stop crying."
"where were you last week when she was sick?" ethan challenged. "i was here making soup. i was here taking care of her."
jermajesty's expression faltered for a moment. "i was working," he said defensively. "providing for my family."
"providing emotionally or financially?" ethan pressed. "because she needs both."
you stepped between them again, tears now streaming down your face. "stop it," you cried. "both of you, just stop it."
jermajesty immediately softened at the sight of your tears. "hey, hey, don't cry, mama," he soothed, reaching to wipe your cheeks. "i'm sorry. i just... i miss you. i miss us."
"you can't keep doing this," you whispered, leaning into his touch despite yourself. "you can't keep saying you miss me when you're the one who left."
"i know," he admitted quietly. "i messed up. but i'm trying to fix it." he glanced over at ethan. "but i can't fix it if you moving on with... him."
"you had your chance," you said, pulling away again. "multiple chances."
"and i'll take more if you give them to me," jermajesty replied, his voice earnest. "you know i love you, y/n. you know i love jovonnie. we're family."
ethan watched the exchange with a pained expression. "y/n," he said gently, "maybe i should go."
you didn’t say anything.
jermajesty looked at ethan with a mocking glare, "maybe i should go." he said slight turning away.
you already knew he was joking but still couldn’t bare the thought of him leaving.
"no," you said quickly, turning to him. "please don't."
"see?" jermajesty pointed out. "she needs me. she still needs me."
"she needs someone who respects her boundaries," ethan countered. "someone who doesn't show up unannounced to intimidate her guests."
"intimidate?" jermajesty laughed. "this is how we communicate. passionate. real." he moved closer to you again. "not like whatever polite bullshit you two doing."
"polite bullshit is called respect," ethan replied. "something you clearly lack."
"and you clearly don't know the first thing about our relationship," jermajesty shot back. "about how we operate."
"and maybe it's time you learned a new way to operate," ethan suggested. "a healthier way."
jermajesty turned to you, his expression hurt. "you hear this shit? you gonna let him talk about us like that?"
"he's not wrong," you admitted quietly. "this isn't healthy, jermajesty. us fighting all the time. us breaking up and getting back together."
"but it's real," he insisted, grabbing your hands. "what you got with him is... what? comfortable? safe?" he shook his head. "that's not what we are. we're fire."
"fire burns everything it touches," ethan observed. "including the people closest to it."
jermajesty ignored him, focusing solely on you. "remember when we found out we were having jovonnie? how scared we were? how we promised we'd always be there for each other no matter what?" his voice cracked with emotion. "i'm trying to keep that promise, ma."
"by showing up here and starting fights?" you asked, though your resolve was weakening. "by trying to make me choose?"
"by showing you that i still care," he corrected. "that i still want you. that i'm not giving up on us."
ethan sighed softly. "y/n," he began, "i think you need to decide what you want. without either of us pressuring you."
"i know what i want," jermajesty said immediately. "i want my family back."
you looked between them, heart pounding. "i need time," you finally said. "i need to think."
"think about what?" jermajesty pressed. "how good it feels when we're together? how right it is?"
"about what's best for jovonnie," you replied. "and what's best for me."
"i'm what's best for you," jermajesty insisted, pulling you into his arms. "we're what's best for each other."
you didn't resist his embrace, melting against him despite knowing you shouldn't. "i hate when you do this," you whispered against his chest.
"do what?" he asked, stroking your hair. "love you? fight for you?"
"make it impossible to say no," you admitted, looking up at him.
"then don't say no," he whispered, lowering his head to kiss you.
ethan watched with a pained expression before quietly heading for the door. "i'll see myself out," he said, though neither of you seemed to notice.
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