۫ ܸ ❤︎ ׅ ۫ jaafar putting you in headlock ໒ྀི⠀ ⁺
cw. 18+ mdni. written from this thought. he's hitting it from the back. size kink? maybe ooc jaafar ? he's just stern n uses his strength. nicknames (babe & ma).
jaafar's fingers dig into the plush of your hips, angling them upward to meet his thrust. while your spine curves, face pressed against the now soaked pillow from you drool. eyes rolling back when jaafar's cock sinks the length of his cock back into your heat, nudging that too hard to reach spot just right.
"i know, babe," he coos in a hushed tone, a hand pawing at your hip when you let out a gurgled hgn, "doing s'well takin' it."
leaning down he places a peck on your shoulder, slowing his pace to roll his hips, his cock snug within your cunt. nudging his nose against your nape, adorning another kiss on your damp skin.
when you turn your head away from him, eyes screwed shut as you try to push yourself further into the pillow ⎯ further away from from jaafar and the weight of his toned body pressed against yours and the stretch of his cock.
"c'mon ma, wanna see you," he rasped, forehead falling against your shoulder. the sounds of your whines has him pulling up off of you, his feathery touch tracing down your back until they land on the plumpness of your ass.
it's still, just for moment. the room is no longer filled with the sound of skin slapping and squelching, now replaced with the heavy breathing between you two.
the sudden movement of one of jaafar's hand soothes up and down your back, his pinky accidentally brushing against the side of your breast each time. it takes you by surprise when the same hand grips at the crook of your neck before swiftly enclosing your head between his forearm and bicep, pussy flutter around his length from the unexpectedness of the action.
his hold on you isn't rough, but it's stern, causing your head to lull back. a whimper slips out when jaafar places his weight back on you, his head dipping back down to meet yours so that there's no other choice than for your glossy eyes to meet his.
"please⎯" you choked out, lifting your hips up, hands clawing at the messy bedsheets at your attempt to escape your boyfriend's hold, "it's t'much."
"i know, ma," voice laced with fake sympathy, "but you can't be askin' for me and then running from me at the same time." leaning down to capture your lips in a sloppy kiss.
pulling away from kiss, a few strings of saliva breaking, "but that's okay, this'll keep you from runnin'," he purs.
synopsis: you went against what michael said when he told you not to go out with your bad influences and you pay the price for it, him giving you the cold shoulder until you do something that you know he can’t resist.
warnings: slight angst, smut, mile high club, michael being a little controlling, make up sex, riding, missionary, slight choking.
a/n: this is based on this request. i love this idea so so so much, i hope yall enjoy. also keep sending requests, i love writing what yall want to see. also i’m sorry if there is any mistakes in this, i didn’t proofread this.
you stood before the expensive vanity mirror in you and michael’s bedroom at the hayvenhurst estate, smoothing lipstick over your mouth, dressed in an outfit that was undeniably lethal—black long sleeve bodysuit, sheer tights, sequin black low waisted mini skirt and black heels, an outfit designed to turn heads your way.
michael leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you with those intense, unreadable eyes. he hadn’t said a word through your entire transformation, but his disapproval was palpable. you knew he hated when you dressed like this, knew he hated when you went out with your friends.
“is that what you’re wearing?” his voice was low, almost dangerous. you spun around, hand on your hip, not backing down. this wasn’t the first fight you’d had about your social life since you started dating the biggest pop star on the planet. “yes, michael.”
“it’s cold outside,” he pointed out, his gaze lingering on the short hem of your skirt. you rolled your eyes, grabbing your coat. “i’ll be fine. we’re going to a club, not the north pole.” you turned to leave, but his voice stopped you cold.
“you’re not going.” the command was quiet, absolute. you froze, coat halfway on. “excuse me?” you turned back slowly, meeting his stare—those eyes that could be so soft, so loving, and in the next breath could cut like glass. “i said you’re not going.” he pushed off the doorframe, stepping closer.
“i most certainly am going.” you pulled your coat closer defiantly. “it’s just a girls night. and you’ll be in the studio anyway.” your voice softened slightly. “please don’t do this. not again.”
he ran a frustrated hand through his curls, jaw tightening. “i don’t like you going out like this,” he repeated stubbornly. “those clothes…you look like you’re asking for trouble.” he uncrossed his arms and stepped even closer, lowering his voice. “and those guys at the clubs? they’re always all over you.” his jealousy was obvious.
“and don’t get me started on your friends.” he shook his head, a hint of disgust curling his lip. “natasha, brittany…they’re not exactly the influences i want in your life.” he paused, his eyes searching your face.
“they’re my friends, michael.” you said firmly, pulling your coat tighter. “and they’ve been there for me since before i ever met you. they don’t want anything from me—unlike half the people crawling around you.” you turned to grab your keys, but he moved fast, blocking the doorway. “you’re staying here tonight.”
“move, michael.” your voice was sharp now, patience wearing thin. you tried to sidestep him, but he planted his feet, that stubborn look crossing his features—the one that meant he wasn’t budging.
“i’m not kidding,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. “i don’t want you out there tonight. not with them.”
“so what am i supposed to do?” you demanded, throwing your hands up. “stay at home like a good little girl while you’re off god knows where with quincy?” the moment the words left your mouth, you knew you’d hit a nerve. his expression hardened.
“at least i’m not going to some club to get drunk and dance with every guy in the place,” he snapped back. the words hung heavily between you, laced with jealousy and anger. before you could retaliate, he grabbed your wrist, his grip surprisingly tight. “you’re staying here.”
“get your hands off me.” you yanked your wrist free, the anger in your eyes matching his. “i am going out, michael. and you’re not stopping me.” with one last defiant look, you shoved past him, your shoulder knocking hard against his chest, and stormed out the bedroom. you didn’t look back.
the house was dark and silent as you stumbled through the door, well past 3am. your heels clattered on the marble floor, echoing through the empty halls. you were drunk—really drunk—and your vision swam as you kicked off your heels and fumbled with your coat.
you made your way down the hallway, swaying slightly, guided by instinct rather than sight. the bedroom door was ajar, a sliver of moonlight spilling across the floor. you pushed it open quietly, wincing at the creak of the hinges. michael was sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over his face, the covers kicked halfway off. he was breathing deeply, fast asleep.
your fingers fumbled with your clothes, your movements clumsy from the alcohol. you caught your reflection in the mirror—smudged eyeliner, flushed cheeks, hair disheveled from dancing. you looked like a mess, but you didn’t care. you slipped under the covers, careful not to wake him.
you hadn’t made it two seconds under the sheets before his voice cut through the darkness—low, sharp, and unmistakably awake.
“having fun tonight?”
you froze. his arm hadn’t moved from over his eyes, but his body was tense, shoulders rigid. you could smell the alcohol on your breath, could feel the thudding headache approaching. “michael, i—“
“did you dance with a lot of guys?” his voice was quiet, deadly quiet. you knew that tone—jealous, hurt, angry. his hand slowly lowered from his face, revealing those piercing eyes that were now staring into the darkness, awaiting your response. the room was thick with tension.
“i’m drunk, michael,” you mumbled, turning your back to him. “i don’t want to fight right now.” you closed your eyes, hoping he’d just let it go and go back to sleep. but you knew better than to think this was over.
“of course you are,” he said, his voice tight with restrained anger. you heard him shift behind you, the bed creaking under his weight as he sat up. “was it worth it? going out like that, wearing that…letting them look at you? letting your friends control you?” his words stung, cutting through your drunken haze. “i told you not to go.”
“and i told you to stop trying to control me,” you shit back, sitting up too fast. the room spun violently. you gripped the sheets to steady yourself. “you’re not the boss of me, michael. i’m not one of your employees, i’m not one of your backup dancers.” the alcohol made you braver, harsher than you would’ve been sober.
“whatever,” he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with disappointment. without another word, he lay back down and pulled the covers over himself, turning his back to you. the room fell silent except for the sound of his even breathing as he deliberately ignored you, signalling that the conversation was over.
you stared at his back for a moment, frustration bubbling in your throat, but your head was pounding too hard to argue anymore. you collapsed back onto your pillow, squeezing your eyes shut as the room tilted and spun. the silence was heavy, filled with unspoken anger and disappointment. within minutes, the alcohol pulled you into a heavy, dreamless sleep.
you woke up to the harsh morning light streaming through the window, your mouth dry and your head throbbing like a drum. your groaned, rolling over to find michael’s side of the bed empty. the note on the nightstand caught your eye.
you squinted against the light, reaching out with a heavy hand to grab the piece of paper. it was folded neatly, your name scrawled across the front in michael’s familiar, jagged handwriting. you unfolded it, wincing as the movement sent a sharp spike through your skull.
“on the plane waiting for you. quick as you can.”
that was it. no “i love you” no “im sorry.”
he didn’t even wait for you, making you get your own way to the jet.
you sighed deeply, rubbing your temples as you tried to shake off the remnants of last nights alcohol. the fight, the harsh words—it all came back in a rush. you threw off the covers and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face before quickly getting dressed.
as you slid into the backseat, you wrapped your long, lavish fur coat tightly around yourself. underneath, you were wearing nothing but the skimpy, black lace lingerie set you’d thrown on to tease michael. the coat was massive, hitting your ankles, shielding the scandalous outfit from the drivers view.
the drive to LAX was intense, your mind racing with thoughts of michael. why had he left without a word? you stared out the window, watching the city blur past, your fingers fidgeting with the fur trim of your coat. when the car pulled up to the private terminal, the driver hurried you inside, where a flight attendant greeted you with a knowing smile.
you stepped onto the private jet, your heels clicking against the polished floor. michael was sitting in the leather recliner, his face hidden behind his signature aviator sunglasses. his jaw was clenched, giving away his anger even though his eyes were concealed. he didn’t look up as you entered.
“you didn’t even wait for me,” you said, sliding into the seat across from him, crossing your legs. the fur coat fell open slightly, revealing a hint of black lace underneath. michael’s jaw tightened, his gaze dropping for a split second before snapping back to your face.
“you were taking too long to wake up,” he said tightly, his voice low and neutral. it was the same gone he used when he was angry, but trying not to show it. his hands were clasped together, knuckles white.
“and what about last night?” he snapped, finally taking off his sunglasses and revealing the fire in his eyes. “you think it’s okay to come home at 3am, reeking of alcohol and god knows what else?”
“god knows what else?” you shot back, your own anger rising. “are you seriously accusing me of something? i was out with friends, michael. something you should try sometimes instead of working 24/7.” the air was thick with tension.
“friends?” he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “you mean those people who encourage you to drink until you can barely stand? who push you to wear next to nothing in public?” he snapped, his eyes darkening. “i saw how you were looking at me last night. like i was the enemy.”
the jet took off, climbing into the sky, but the argument didn’t stop. “and i’m supposed go just stay home alone all the time?” you shouted over the engine noise.
“no, you’re supposed to be respectful!” he yelled back, matching your volume. “to me, to our relationship, to the fact that i’m trying to build something here while you’re out chasing some…some freedom fantasy!”
“freedom?” you laughed bitterly, throwing your hands up. “you call this freedom? being controlled, questioned, judged every time i step out the door?” your voice cracked slightly. “i can’t even have a drink with my friends without you acting like ive committed some crime!” the plane jolted slightly as it hit turbulence, but neither of you backed down.
“a drink? is that what we’re calling it now?” michael’s voice was rising dangerously. “because from where i was standing, you weren’t just having a drink. you were wasted, barely recognisable, dressed like…like some stranger!” he gestured sharply at you.
“and don’t even think about trying and turn this around on me because i know you will,” michael lectured, his hands flying wildly as he paced the small aisle of the cabin. “i work my ass off for this lifestyle, for our future, and i come home to a girlfriend who doesn’t even know her own limits! it’s disrespectful, it’s reckless, and quite frankly, it’s embarrassing—“
the tension snapped. you stood abruptly, your heels clicking on the carpet as you slowly slipped off your oversized fur coat. it fell to the floor in a pile of soft luxury, revealing the black lace lingerie beneath; the matching bra hugging your breasts, the tiny panties riding low on your hips. michael’s jaw dropped. his angry words died in his throat.
michael froze mid sentence, his eyes widening as they raked over the scandalous black lace set that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. the angry lecture vanished instantly, replaced by a stunned, heated silence. his gaze traced the curves of your hips, the sheer fabric, the skin that was practically bare. “what the hell are you doing?” he choked out, his voice dropping an octave.
“making my point,” you said coolly, walking toward him in nothing but the lingerie and heels. michael backed up against the leather seat, his composure completely shattered. he tried to look away but his eyes betrayed him, glued to the sheer lace and it way it hugged your body. “put your coat back on,” he demanded, though his voice came out raspy and weak.
“why? so you can pretend you’re not looking?” you stepped closer, stopping just inches from him. michael’s breathing grew heavy, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his button-down shirt. his hands gripped the arm rests, knuckles white, fighting every instinct to reach for you.
“i am not looking,” he lied through gritted teeth, his eyes practically burning a hole through the sheer lace. “put your coat back on. now.” but he didn’t move. he remained trapped against the leather seat, his self-control crumbling with every step you took closer. the vein in his neck throbbed visibly. “this isn’t solving the argument.”
“isn’t it?” you challenged, sliding onto his lap, ignoring his order. the lace scratched deliciously against the expensive fabric of his trousers. michael groaned, a sound torn between frustration and desire, his hands instinctively gripping your waist to steady you—or push you away—he couldn’t decide. “get off me,” he warned, though his grip tightened. “we are fighting.”
“then fight me,” you whispered, pressing your body flush against him, feeling the hear radiating off his toned chest. one hand slid up to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his curls. “but don’t pretend you’re not attracted to what you called reckless and embarrassing two seconds ago.” you leaned in, lips brushing his ear. “your hands are trembling, michael.”
michael’s entire frame tensed. his hands, still clamped on your waist, were indeed trembling. not from anger anymore—from pure, desperate restraint. “you think this is a game?” he hissed, his voice thick, his hips bucking involuntarily as you shifted your weight. “you think showing up half naked solves anything?”
“i think it gets your attention,” you purred, grinding slowly against the growing hardness in his trousers. michael’s head fell back against the seat, a low growl escaping his throat as his control snapped. his hands moved from your waist to your hips, gripping them hard, fingers digging into lace and skin. “stop fucking with me.”
“i’m not fucking with you. you started this fight.” you whispered, rocking your hips deliberately against him. “you called me reckless, embarrassing, disrespectful…” you leaned down, biting his lower lip softly. “now look at you. trembling underneath me.” michael groaned violently, his eyes rolling back. “stop.” it was a desperate warning, utterly powerless. “i am serious.”
“are you?” you challenged, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. his dark eyes were hazy with want, lips swollen from your bite. “because your hands say something completely different.” you guided his trembling fingers to the edge of your lace panties, pressing them against the damp fabric. michael let out a broken sound, his forehead dropping against your shoulder.
“god help me,” he muttered against your skin, his hot breath ghosting over your collarbone. his fingers twitched against the lace, fighting the urge to push the fabric aside. “you’re impossible. you know that? absolutely impossible.” his hips bucked up meeting yours, a needy thrust that betrayed his words. “we were arguing about your drinking, your behaviour—“
“and now?” you whispered proactively, rolling your hips to feel every inch of his arousal beneath you. “are we still arguing about my drinking, michael? or are you thinking about how easy it would be to tear this lace off me?” his head fell back, exposing his throat, a guttural moan tearing from his lips. “i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.” you corrected softly, pressing open mouthed kisses along his jawline. your hands roamed over his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly. “you hate that i make you want things you shouldn’t.” you found his belt, fingering working to quickly undo it.
michael’s hand flew to yours, stopping you mid-buckle. “don’t,” he wanted, his voice low and dangerous. “don’t do this right now. we’re not having sex to end an argument.”
“then what are we doing?” you asked, leaning back to look at him. your chest rose and fell rapidly, your lips parted slightly as you breathed. “because it sure as hell feels like you want to fuck me out of this stupid lingerie set.” you shifted your weight, pressing down onto his erection.
“i do,” he admitted, his hips jerking up to meet yours. his hands tightened on your wrists, torn between pushing you away and slamming you onto his cock. “god, i want to rip this thing to shreds and fuck you senseless. but that’s not how we solve our problems.”
“then how?” you demanded, frustrated by his restraint. “we fight, you yell, i storm out, we make up in bed—that’s our cycle, michael. break it.” he released your wrists, you then slide your hands up his chest to cup his face. “talk to me. really talk to me. without the anger.” his eyes softened, searching yours.
he started to talk but then you rolled your hips once, and his restraint finally shattered. he flipped you onto your back, the seats creaking as you landed beneath him. “talking is overrated anyway,” he growled, yanking the delicate lace aside. his mouth crashed onto yours as he fumbled with his belt, impatient, desperate. “i’ll yell at you tomorrow.” one hand gripped your thigh, hiking it over his hip.
“damn right,” you murmured against his mouth, wrapping your legs around his waist as he settled between them. you didn’t want to talk either. you wanted him to fuck the anger and jealously out of him. you wanted him to remind you why you loved him even when he drove you crazy.
michael groaned as you pulled him closer, his hips grinding against yours through the thin barrier of fabric. “fuck,” he hissed, his teeth grazing your earlobe. his hands roamed everywhere—your waist, your thighs, the curve of your ass—possessive and hungry. the argument was forgotten, replaced by raw need. “you drive me insane,” he muttered against your neck.
“shut up and kiss me again,” you ordered, pulling his face back to yours. michael obeyed instantly, his mouth covering yours in a brutal, dominating kiss. his tongue pushed past your lips, duelling with yours as he reached between your bodies to unzip his pants.
michael’s hand slid between your bodies, shoving his expensive slacks down just enough to free his hard, aching cock. he didn’t both removing them completely—there was no time, no patience. the plane hit a small air pocket, tipping slightly, causing you to gasp as his tip pressed against your lace covered entrance.
he hooked his fingers into the damp lace, tearing the flimsy fabric aside with a sharp sound that was swallowed by your moan. before you could catch your breath, he surged forward, burying himself deep inside you in one thrust. your back arched off the leather seat, a cry tearing from your throat as he stretched you, filling you completely.
“oh my god,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back as he began to move, his hips snapping forward and back in a bruising pace. “michael, wait—“
“shh, baby, i’ve got you,” he panted against your neck, his hand sliding up to wrap around your throat gently.
“i’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice low and commanding. he lifted your hips slightly to change the angle, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur. the planes gentle rocking only intensified the sensation, making every thrust deeper, more intense. “look at me,” he demanded softly.
you forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze as he continued to fuck you with deep, powerful strokes. his thumb pressed lightly against your pulse point, a silent reminder of who was in control. the argument from earlier was long forgotten, replaced by this raw, primal connection. “i love you,”
the words slipped out between grunts and gasps, his forehead pressed to yours. “i love you. even when you’re being a brat in this lingerie. even when you drink too much. even when you go against what i say.” each declaration was punctuated by a hard thrust, his hips grinding in perfect circles. “remember that.”
“i remember,” you choked out, your eyes rolling back as his pelvic bone ground against your clit. “i love you too.” your orgasm coiled tight in your belly, the friction from his relentless strokes pushing you closer to the edge. the leather seat squeaked beneath you, the smell of expensive cologne and sex filling the cabin. “please, don’t stop.”
“never,” he growled, suddenly flipping you over so you were on top. his hands gripped your hips tightly as he guided you to ride him. the change in position hit new spots, making you both moan loudly.
you arched your back, taking him deeper as you started to bounce on his lap, meeting his thrusts with your own eager movements. the plane hit another air pocket, causing you to yelp and grab onto his shoulders for stability. michael just smiled wickedly and kept fucking you from below.
“you like that, huh?” he teased, his hands sliding up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing firmly as you rode him. the friction was driving you insane—your clit grinding against his pelvis with every downward stroke. “like this, baby?” he bucked up hard, hitting that spot inside you that made your toes curl. “you feel so good, mama.”
“michael—“ your voice broke into a sob as your orgasm crashed through you, stars exploding behind your eyelids. your walls clenched around him, milking every inch as waves of pleasure ripped through your body. michael’s grip on your hips tightened as he bottomed out deep inside you, his own release spilling hot between your thighs with a guttural groan.
he held you there, still buried deep, both of you panting heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms rolled through your joined bodies. his thumbs traced lazy circles on your hips, the possessive fire in his eyes now softened to something tender. “my god,” he breathed against your shoulder. “we should fight more often.” you shoved at him weakly, laughing breathlessly.
as the high of your intense makeup sex wore off, reality began to set in. michael’s hands slid from your hips to gently cup your face, his thumbs brushing away any lingering traces or tears or sweat. his voice was soft but sincere, completely opposite from how he’d been acting earlier. “baby,”
“i’m sorry,” he said quietly, his forehead resting against yours. “for everything. for telling you not to go out, for being an asshole when you got home, for ignoring you, for being rude, for—“ he took a shaky breath. “for acting like a possessive caveman who doesn’t trust his own woman.”
“i trust you,” he continued, his dark eyes searching yours earnestly. “i do. i just…i get this thing in my head. this fear that you’re going to do something stupid, that someone’s going to take you away from me.” he pressed his lips softly to your forehead. “there’s no excuse. i shouldn’t have acted like that. i shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”
you reached up, cupping his face in your hands and pulling him down for a slow, tender kiss—nothing like the bruising one from before. when you finally pulled apart, you whispered against his lips, “i forgive you. just…talk to me next time. don’t shut me out.” michael nodded, holding you close against his chest as the plane descended toward new york city.
Genre: SMUT!!(MDNI), Established Relationship. University!AU
Warnings: AGAIN SMUT!! (MDNI), I mean pure filth. Que-Dawg!Jermajesty (Valid warning). Jermajesty pretends to be non-chalant(ends up very chalant.) Cussing. Use of the ‘n’ word. Jealous!Jerpapi. Arguing. Reader is manhandled more than once. Violence. Reader is referred to as Jermajesty’s “Bitch”, Car sex. Toe sucking. Coochie slapping (once). Oral!(Fem. Receiving). Squirting! P in V, Unprotected! Possessive sex. Slight breeding kink (?), Slight dacryphilia (?). Twin I can’t lie, this is overly freaked out..
Summary: Everyone knows that you and Jermajesty are the ‘it’ couple on campus. Everyone also knows your boyfriend is president of the most notorious frat there, Omega Psi Phi. At the biggest party of the year, during their routine stroll, Jermajesty gets a little too beside himself. Since you aren’t one to be taken for a fool, you decide to get beside someone else.
W.C: 5.4k
Author’s Note: Credit for this log idea and moodboard goes straight to @siiighrns. Y’all, I fear I went a lil ham on this one. BUT it’s really good! (I’m biased). As always, thank you for reading! Share what you think, reblog if you love it!
-Love, B. 🤍 ↪ The Archive.
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The music is already shaking the walls by the time you step inside. Heat hits first, then the smell of smoke, sweat, and liquor. Bodies press shoulder to shoulder, and people dance wherever they can find space; others cling to the walls like a lifeline. Someone’s yelling over the music about body shots, a sorority girl is laughing too loudly, and in the darker corners of the house, couples are already latching onto each other, swapping a little more than spit. Homecoming always does this: turns the whole campus into one restless cesspool of drunk, loud, horny twenty-somethings. This party is the one everybody’s been waiting for; the football game against the opposing university had been won with a staggering victory, and now it was time to let loose. Omega Psi Phi always does it big, and this year is no exception.
You stick close to your girls as you move through the crowd, eyes adjusting, taking it all in. The energy bothers you. Everything feels too loud, maybe even reckless. The mess around you isn’t your problem; Jermajesty is. The way he’d been acting all day had pissed you off. Short answers, stuck off in his phone, hellbent on like you were his biggest inconvenience.
You tried to talk to him more than once, wanting to know what crawled so far up his ass and died that he’d call you ‘bruh’ for most of the day. Still, he gave you nothing but annoyed sighs and kissed teeth. Fed up, you decided to go to the party on your own. Since your boyfriend wanted to act like you were such a bother, he didn’t have to worry about you.
Now you’re here, scoping out the scene, almost sure he’s cooled off by now. It doesn’t take long to find him, and when you do, your stomach drops. ‘Off the Leash’ by Gucci Mane blares in the background. He’s locked in on some bitch like you don’t even exist. She’s all up on him, titties nearly spilling out of her cheap dress, laughing and feeling on his arms. He’s eating it up, rolling his head from side to side, tongue flicking out with a smile, moving like he’s a free agent. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it somewhere in the crowd. The chain you got him for his birthday glints in the light against the wife-beater he had on underneath. His large frame hovers over hers. The muscles in his back flex as he moves. You stare for a second too long, and his eyes catch yours, winking before pushing himself back onto the girl.
“This nigga trippin.” You mutter, more to yourself than anybody else. Anger settles in your chest while you watch him, eyes stinging as you take in the scene before you. The longer you stare, the clearer it gets. He’s comfortable embarrassing you. He’s acting like you don’t even exist, like he doesn’t know the only reason you came was him.
Your jaw clenches so hard your teeth hurt, but you force your expression to stay neutral. You’re not about to be that girl, pressed, kicking and screaming in the middle of a party just because your man ain’t shit. The two girls you came with scoff, rubbing your back apologetically. Imani, your closest friend since freshman year, speaks first. “Leave that nigga where he is, baby. He’s clearly busy.” Your other friend, Niyah, pipes up next. “Yeah, girl, forget his ass! It’s plenty of niggas here that would kiss yours. Let’s go find em’ and get fucked up like we came to!”
Niyah was right about that, you looked the fuck good. Eyes had been on you since you walked into the cramped space. Your braids are freshly done, the face card never declines, and the outfit draping your frame didn’t help either, leaving very little to the imagination. Nothing extravagant, just a plum colored mini-dress that hugged you tight, coupled with a strappy pair of open-toed heels. Still, nobody does it like you. As you think about all the ways you can get even, the girl fawning over your boyfriend takes his hand and leads him deeper into the sea of people.
You make up your mind fast, and with a single nod to your friends, you let them guide you in the opposite direction, toward something that feels more in your control. As you move through the horde of undergrads, your mind focuses on the way your boyfriend practically disowned you in front of everybody, and it becomes crystal clear that liquor is going to be your best friend tonight.
Shot after shot passes through your glossed lips, slowly but surely numbing the irritation that has settled over your spirit. The hurt is still there, but it’s starting to blur at the edges. As the liquid courage flows through your veins, you get the bright idea to scale the kitchen counter and dance a little bit, hoping to distract yourself from him. Yells of encouragement from onlookers spur you on, and just as you get ready to bend over, your eyes find him again. He’s behind a different girl now, his hands roaming her body, softer than when it’s yours, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. The enthusiasm drains out of you as quickly as it came. Suddenly, the counter is too high to stand. on. You swallow the lump in your throat.
Before the pain can linger, rival frat Kappa Alpha Psi arrives. The sound of glass breaking rattles from the speakers as Soulja Boy’s ‘Prettyboy Swag,’ begins, changing from Omega's theme to Kappas. The crowd parts just enough, and eyes start drifting toward them. They stroll through, slow and steady. Instead of stepping back and ignoring it as is expected of you, you move fast. You place yourself right where you’ll be seen, with less than pure intentions. It doesn’t take their president long to lock onto you. Ah, Rakheem Jones. Tall, dark, and impossibly charming. An academic beast with a smile that could stop any girl’s heart, someone you’d explicitly been told to stay away from. Oh yeah, you’d hit the fucking jackpot.
He moves through the room like he owns the air around him, stopping the stroll in front of you with an exaggerated swagger. His eyes drag slowly from your face, down your body, and back up again, taking his time on purpose. All you see in front of you is quiet certainty, the kind that tells you exactly what he wants. He isn’t Jermajesty, not by a long shot, but you can’t deny that he’s pretty damn close. Close enough for you right now.
A smile breaks on his face as his frat brothers bounce in step. He spreads his arms out, palms facing up in an open invitation, and you let your body answer for you. Though you are no doubt very drunk, every movement is intentional. Jermajesty’s reaction is now an afterthought. If he could have his fun, why couldn’t you? Your lips curl into something slow and dangerous, the bottom one caught between your teeth as you step forward and spin around. You bend at the waist, hands sliding down your legs and stopping at your ankles, nasty and slow; a move typically reserved for the man making a mockery of you across the room.
As your hips rock from side to side, the dress hugging your frame rides up, showing off your lace panties; it’s retaliation disguised as a proposition, but Rakheem doesn’t need to know that. It’s effortless, the way your ass moves in this dress. It should be a crime. Shouts of approval ring throughout the room. Rakheem steps in, palming your rear like he’s been given permission. He presses into you, testing the waters, and when you don’t pull away, he makes another move. Next thing you know, his hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and you’re in the air.
High above the crowd, sitting on his shoulders, you feel the room erupt because everybody knows what that means. He’s claimed you for the night. Cheers break out all over.
“Ain’t that Maj’s girl?”
“Oh shit–it is!”
One of the other Nupes yells out, “Aye! She with the Nupes now!”
The words spread fast, cutting through the music and the noise. All eyes are trained on the two of you, and you can’t help but bask in it. Someone passes you a cup, and you raise it toward the sky. You toss the drink back, and with a shout, you unknowingly seal your fate for the night. “She with the Nupes now!” Across the room, Jermajesty hears it before he understands it. Ain’t no way he just heard…what he thinks he heard. He tries to ignore the commotion.
Tries to. He’s caught up in his own game of pretending he doesn’t care, but that nonchalant shit flies out the window when he takes a quick glance around the room. Everything stops. There you are. Elevated above everybody else, laughing, moving like you don’t have a care in the world…on another man’s shoulders, practically humping his head. The sight is like a slap in the face, and the shock turns to fury.
And it’s not just any man, you’re too petty for that. It was Kappa Alpha Psi’s fucking president. Jermajesty’s teeth grind together, and his hands ball into fists. The girl in front of him grabs his face gently, trying to bring his attention back to her. “Focus on me, baby. She don’t mean nothing.” When he registers her acrylics grazing his jaw, he nearly growls in disgust, no longer interested in her advances. With an open palm and five fingers, he mushes her back, “Fuck off me.” She stumbles and looks at him like he just lost his mind. She just might be right about that. Jermajesty doesn’t waste any more time and pushes through the crowd, fuming.
By the time he gets close, you’re fully gone, rolling your body, completely unbothered. Then your eyes meet his, and you laugh. Not small or nervous, no, one big boisterous cackle that displays just how little you care. Again, while looking him dead in the eye, you chant, “She with the motherfuckin’ Nupes now!” Your smile stretches ear to fucking ear. Rakheem follows your lead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Real slow like, the rival Greek plants his hands firmly on your waist and lifts you over his head, guiding your body down until your feet hit the floor. Rakheem then presses a deep arch into your spine, positioning you exactly how he wants you, eyes locked on Jermajesty the entire time. He only has time to roll his hips once. That’s it, the disrespect is too loud for him to ignore.
Jermajesty snaps, shoving you aside roughly, fist already in motion. It connects clean with Rakheem’s jaw, the crack sharp enough to cut through the music. Just like that, everything explodes. Omegas step in immediately, forming up behind their president without hesitation. Kappas surge forward just as fast, not about to let theirs get dropped without response.
The party morphs into shouting, pushing, and different hues of purple and red colliding with each other. Phones come out, and flashlights illuminate the brawl; the partygoers are having a ball with this, no doubt staring lives and reporting in on Snapchat. The frat's reputation could very well be on the line, but Jermajesty could give a fuck less. All he cares about is bodying the nigga dumb enough to touch his bitch. He’s got Rakheem by the back of his shirt. “Fucked up!” he yells, fist connecting again. “You. Got. Me. Fucked. Up.” Each word lands with another hit. Rakheem tries to defend himself, but he’s outmatched. Jermajesty is bigger, stronger, and fueled by nothing but alcohol and jealousy. The poor Kappa’s licks are as soft as cotton balls.
Your boyfriend doesn’t stop until Rakheem’s limp, no longer able to fight back, and far too weak to hold himself up. He leans in, making sure the Kappa’s president looks him in the eye. Voice low and dangerous, he speaks, “Try that shit again. Watch what I do.” He drops Rakheem and stands to his full height, chest rising fast, and finally looks around. His brothers are still fighting, having dealt out the same kind of damage to the rest of Kheem’s posse. Jermajesty can’t let this get any worse, or he’ll have a meeting with the dean come Monday. He inhales once, then lets out a loud bark. His fraternity falls back, bellowing out their own barks in response to his call. Across from them, the Kappas hesitate, but ultimately decide they’ve taken a big enough loss tonight. They pull away, dragging Rakheem with them, and just like that, it's over. The music creeps back up, loud chatter resumes, and bodies start to move again, like nothing even happened.
When the dust settles completely, and Jermajesty is sure no one else is going to try him, he turns to face you, “Say your little goodbyes, and take your ass to the car.” His voice holds a finality that you really can’t argue with. You stand there for a moment, testing whether or not defiance would fare well for you. When he blows through his nose, you understand the answer is no. Doing as he says, you find Mani and Niyah and offer them quick hugs. “Ooh! Somebody in trouble!” Niyah starts, “Mhmm, little Ms. ‘She with the nupes now!’ Nah, more like she done did it now!” Mani finishes. You roll your eyes. They’re right, you’re in deep shit, but you won’t admit it.
“Shut up. That nigga had it comin’.” They giggle and kiss your cheek goodbye, wishing you luck. As you make your way toward the door, you feel eyes on you again. Some of Jermajesty’s frat brothers cast betrayed glances in your direction. “Fuck are y’all looking at?” They shake their heads and wave you off, “Nothing, Nupe.” You sigh, completely over tonight. The walk to the car is long and uncomfortable as you reflect on how everything unfolded. The thought that you might’ve done too much crosses your mind. Did Jermajesty really deserve that kind of betrayal? Flashes of him caressing someone else with so much care and tenderness replay. Yes the fuck he did.
The sleek, black BMW, which had been given to Jermajesty as a graduation gift, comes into view. It was fully loaded: all-black interior, leather seats, moonroof, and custom headrests with his and your initials. Arms folded, you lean against the door, anxiety washing over your bones. What if he breaks up with you over this? The move you made was bold and not something to be taken lightly in the Greek world. You still love him, but god does he piss you off. While you ponder, his voice cuts through the air as he says his goodbyes. You shift on your feet as an unsettling feeling nestles deep in your gut. He stalks toward you now, aura anything but safe, letterman jacket clutched tightly in his right hand. Jermajesty’s head tilts to the side as he lifts his free hand to his face, brows furrowed, rubbing his jaw as his gaze locks on you. His gait is strong; each step he takes feels like it has the magnitude of a devastating earthquake. He’s pissed.
“The fuck was that? Huh?” Jermajesty asks, eyes hard, voice eerily calm. Your arms unfold, and you stare at him in disbelief. Did he seriously have the nerve to be calling you out right now? “I could ask you the same damn thing, Jermajesty!” He cuts his gaze to the side, trying to keep his composure. “You’ve been pissy all fuckin’ day. I tried over and over again to check up on you, make sure you were straight, and what do you do? Treat me like I’m some regular bitch, that’s what!” Your arms fly around frantically as you speak. His eyes return to yours, daring you to keep going. You accept, and double down continuing the tirade, “And THEN, when I pull up to this fuck ass party, that I didn’t even want to be at by the way, what do I find? You. Snug as a bug in a fuckin’ rug with some random. Get the fuck outta my face with that ‘Fuck was that?’ bullshit, Majesty. Seriously.”
He glances away, nodding a few times before speaking, “You done?” That’s it? That’s all he has to offer you? Having reached a boiling point, a response dripping with venom leaves your lips. “Nah, nigga. We done.” Jermajesty chuckles, unlocking the car and tossing his jacket in the backseat. “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t think you were serious. Sure, you’ve both been through this song and dance plenty of times before, but you always stay. With a huff, you throw your arms up and spin on your heels, starting in the other direction, hoping it’s not too late to catch a right with Mani. “How the fuck you gon get home, y/n?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. You growl and turn back around, “I don’t know Jermajesty! Maybe the Kappas will take me in.”
His eyes darken, and in two quick steps, he’s in front of you. “Get your ass…in the fuckin’ car.” You roll your eyes and push his chest, creating some distance. “Fuck. No.” You snarl, “This ain't even the first time you’ve pulled some shit like this. I’m fucking done, Jermaj—” Your words catch in your throat when his right hand wraps around your wrist, and he drags you into him. His other hand comes up to grip your chin as he pulls you into a searing kiss. You curse internally, feeling yourself melt as his soft, plush lips move against yours. The hand holding your wrist moves to your back, pressing you closer as he deepens the kiss. It trails down further, cupping your ass and squeezing. The action makes you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.
You both wrestle for dominance, but another firm squeeze to your behind leaves Jermajesty as the victor. When you part, his lips are covered in a thin film of gloss, matching yours. “Ma,” He whispers soft and low, “If you think you leavin’ me…you out yo fuckin’ mind. I’m not gon’ tell your little ass again, get in the car.” This time, dazed, you listen. Slipping into the passenger side and clicking your seatbelt in place. Jermajesty follows suit, starting the engine and peeling out with a quickness. As he drives, you notice the way his large hands grip the wheel, knuckles white as he seethes.
After some time, he pulls into an empty parking lot, throws the beemer in park, and gets out. The back door on the driver’s side swings open, and he slips in. Your boyfriend leans back and spreads his legs wide. You look over your shoulder to find his eyes locked on you. “Strip.” He says, low and dark. Unsure of whether or not he’s serious, you freeze. He lifts a brow, wondering what’s taking you so long. Message received. You shimmy out of your dress in the seat and work on your heels next. Once finished, you move to climb over the center console. “Uh-uh, all of it.” You pause, glancing down at your body, still clad in your bra, and the same panties you were so keen on showing off earlier. Peeking back up at your boyfriend, you see his arms are now resting behind his head as he waits with practiced restraint.
Sitting back, gradually, you peel the last layer of clothing and dignity off your body. Jermajesty revels in your beauty, eyes raking up and down your form twice, before patting his thigh. Now, given permission, you slip into the back of the car and onto his lap. Jermajesty's head is tipped up, and his hands, rough and calloused, hold your waist softly, as if he’ll break you if he isn’t careful. He lets a deep breath out through his nose and looks into your eyes, “You know I love you, right, mama?” Though it didn’t feel like just moments ago, you still nod, big doe eyes peering back at him. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
He then reaches for something near him. You hear it rustle before it comes into view. The letterman. He holds it up and only says three words: “Put it on.” Hesitantly, you slide your arms into the sleeves and shrug it the rest of the way on. “Gorgeous.” Jermajesty slides you off his lap gently and pushes you toward the other end of the car, “Lie back.” You ease down, and your legs part in the process. He takes in the sight of your dripping heat and lets out an appreciative groan. Your legs stretch past his face, and your toes touch the glass next to him. In the soft moonlight illuminating the car, your boyfriend notices something dancing on your ankle. Delicate gold lace, adorned with a pendant shaped like a 'J', rests there.
The visual nearly undoes Jermajesty. He takes your leg in his right hand and bends your knee. His fingers curl around your toes as he places soft kisses along your foot. His left hand trails up to caress the rest of your leg. Eventually, the hand holding your toes slides down to your heel. Jermajesty's kisses grow more urgent, less controlled. He moves feverishly, and before you can process what is happening, your big toe is in his mouth. He swirls his tongue, and a deep moan reverberates in your ears. You didn’t expect it to feel as good as it did, and the action earned a soft moan. Maybe it was the sensuality, but your body shakes with need. The slick between your thighs becomes unbearable. While your boyfriend continues his ministrations, you reach down. Your clit is aching, and the soft circles you begin to rub are barely enough to satisfy you.
When a whimper escapes your chest, and before you can pick up the pace, a sharp slap to your hand stops you. Jermajesty pulls off of your toe with a pop. “I didn’t say you could touch my shit, ma.” He then leans over and spreads you wider, wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting your back off the seat. You look at him in surprise, and Jermajesty holds your gaze, blowing cool air over your clit. Frustrated, you whine out, “Maj, please—” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t admire what's mine, mama?”
You let out a huff and try to sink back down. Big, veiny arms keep you steady, though. Jermajesty tuts at your bratty behavior, “Fuckin’ spoiled.” As you go to make another complaint, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard. “Oh, fuck— Maj!” He eats like a man starved, slurping like you’ll run dry if he stops. The sounds of your sins echo in the confined space. His tongue trails down to your ass and back up. He pushes the wet muscle deep into your pussy, earning a high wail from you. He stays there for a moment, savoring your taste, before moving back up toward the bundle of nerves hidden in your folds. Stars form behind your eyelids when two fingers dip in, making up for the empty feeling.
It’s all too much, too fast. You feel yourself careening toward the edge as he pumps them into you. He quickens his pace, knowing your body like the back of his hand. The digits buried inside of you press into that spongy spot over and over again. “Give it to me.” He murmurs into your heat. As if your body were waiting for his command, euphoria crashes into you. You tense as your eyes roll back, and his name slips off your tongue as you ride out your high. Jermajesty doesn’t stop, drinking your juices like he’s found the fountain of youth.
Overstimulation racks through your body, and you push him off your center. He leans back, breaths labored, chin glistening with your essence. You’re breathing just as hard, unsure if you’ll be able to withstand what else he has in store for you. “Baby—” He shushes you while pulling the wife-beater over his head. His jeans come off next, then his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The outline of his arousal leaves your mouth watering. No matter how many times you fuck him, you never get used to it. “Turn around f’me. Arch my shit the way I like it.” Itching for more, you do as he says, sinking into a sinful arch. Your pussy is on full display, and that beautiful, round ass has him thanking whichever god sent you down to him.
Your ears pick up on his movement, sure that he’s slipped out of the last layer between the two of you. You feel his heavy cock against your inner thigh, pre-cum smearing against it. The feeling leaves you clenching around nothing. Jermajesty leans down, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, “When I’m done with you…you gon remember you ain’t fuckin’ with no little ass puppy.” With that, he lines himself up with your heat. The tip nudges against your entrance, teasing you to the point of tears. In one long, slow thrust, Jermajesty bottoms out and has you split wide around his length.
Your mouth opens, and a loud moan tears from your chest. It burns so fucking good, he’s filled you to the brim. Your boyfriend waits for you to adjust, and when you nod, his strokes begin slowly, dragging along your sopping walls with deliberate patience. His cock is covered in your slick, and it takes everything in him to hold steady. He wants you to beg. “You forgot who I am, ma?” He asks, while still digging you out. Already too cockdrunk to speak, you shake your head with a muffled “Mm-mm.” Not satisfied with your answer, Jermajesty switches gears, picking up the pace. He feeds you harder, faster strokes, hips slamming into your ass roughly, “Nah. Tell me, baby.” He breathes out, “You forgot?”
Your breath hitches, and you throw your head back, drool sliding down the corners of your mouth. “Noo— Neverrr,” you drag out, surprised by the sudden change in tempo. Jermajesty catches the underside of your chin in his right hand, pulling you up as he props up his left leg near your side for better leverage. Again, he speeds up, driving mean strokes into your already abused pussy. A series of grunts leaves his lips before he lets you drop back down against the seat. The same foot he has propped up comes to rest on the side of your face as he reaches new depths in your core.
“Which frat you with— Shit!” The new angle leaves both of you weak. You search for the right words, but his fat mushroom tip bullying into your g-spot has you stupid. “I don’t know, Maj!— Fuck, I can’t—” He presses more of his weight into you, a ‘Thwack!’ rings through the air, and you struggle to catch your breath. “You don’t know? Sure you do, baby girl.” The strokes are heavy and slow now, grazing over your pleasure center again, and again. “I don’t, I swear.” Jermajesty laughs then, rich and smooth. “You really don’t? Guess I gotta stop then huh?” He says, still stroking deliciously slow. Panick washes over your blissed out face, “NO!— I just… Maj, give me a hint!”
His shoulders bounce as he realizes he has you right where he wants you. Too fucked out and stupid to think about anything but his dick, “What jacket you got on, baby?” Hell, if you know, all you're worried about is the heat pooling in your belly. “Majesty. Please, baby— I don’t know!” He grips you by the waist and pulls you off of him. A cry rips from your body, and tears form in your eyes. Jermajesty flips you onto your back, “It’s okay, pretty girl, don’t cry.” He utters mockingly, "I'm gon’ give you what you want.” he finishes, leaning down to lick away your tears.
In one swift move, Jermajesty pulls back and enters you again. A chortled gasp reaches his ears, and he smirks. He holds himself there for a moment and then decides that he wants to wreck you completely. He folds you in half, your knees almost touch your ears, and the tips of your toes touch the window behind you. The filthy mating press leaves your faces just inches apart. Jermajesty breathes out slowly to ground himself,“Omega. Psi. Phi.” He whispers, voice sweet like honey. Your face contorts in ecstasy as he punctuates each Greek letter with heavy, relentless blows to your .
“Those are the only words I wanna hear.” He leaves no room for you to process and begins pounding into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against your cervix. “Ughh! Maj!— Fuck- Slow down!” Your boyfriend ignores your plea, driving into you harder. “Who. You. With? Hm?” Your brain is sent into overdrive, and instead of answering, your hand comes up to push against his stomach, hoping to slow down the brutal assault on your pussy. “Move it,” He grunts out, head dropping to watch where the two of you are joined together. His hand shifts up to squeeze your right tit, moving yours out of the way in the process.
The sensation makes your body twitch. Everything feels like jelly, and it’s hard to keep your eyes open; with them half-lidded, the only thing you’re able to see properly is the gold chain that dangles over you, thumping against his chest with every stroke. He presses delicate kisses across your chest before moving up to that sensitive spot on your neck. He sucks harshly, and a deep purple mark forms there. “I’m not askin’ again, you better tell me before I stop.” He says, nipping at your neck as his girth bullies into your g-spot, “Omega— Fuck! Psi Phi!” You yelp. Not yet satisfied, your boyfriend leans up, steadying most of his weight with one hand on the back of your thigh. “Louder.” He growls out, cracking his other hand down on your dripping snatch. Repeating the name is a feat you’re only able to accomplish by the grace of god. It still isn’t enough for Jermajesty.
“Again.” He orders, thumbing at your abused clit. Tight, fast circles send pleasure shooting up through your spine. “Omega!” He nods along in encouragement, “Mhm,” he groans, “Give it to me, baby”, eyes still focused on the way your warm, wet hole swallows his length. His hips hammer into yours at an impossible speed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Psi— Ooh Shit!” He moves to nuzzle his face in your neck, now struggling to hold himself together. His hand leaves your clit, and presses down just above your mound, adding to the whirlwind of stimulation. “Come on y/n— Fuck! Almost there. Give it to me!” With a piercing scream, the final letter tumbles from your throat. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “There it is. Shit, that’s so fucking good.” His praise adds to the familiar warmth settling into your core. You feel it coming hard and fast, “Maj, wait! The seats—” His heavy body drags against yours, “Fuck the seats. Gimme my shit.”
It only takes a few more seconds of him pistoning into you before you fall apart. Your vision goes white, and your toes curl, and your jaw drops with a silent cry. Violent streams of pleasure spurt around your boyfriend’s dick and across his abdomen. Jermajesty is right behind you, grip so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Fuck! Gonna cum.” His stills as his balls tighten, and a loud groan rips from his chest. Thick globs of his spunk coat your insides. He stays put until he’s sure you’ve taken all of it.
You both breathe heavily as you come down from your highs. Your boyfriend slides out of you gently and moves to look at the mess he’s made of you. As your body twitches, completely and utterly spent, his eyes flicker to your half-lidded ones, and a smirk creeps onto his face. “A Nupe, can’t fuck you like this. Remember that.”
when a netflix and chill turns into needing a morning after pill. you feel so good jermajesty can’t pull out of you.
18+ explict sexual content, unprotected sex, cream pie and vulgar language. no real plot just porn.
“are you still watching” the tv displayed as you two abandoned the netflix show, tongues down each others throat and jermajestys hands on your ass. what started out as a innocent moment of you and jermajesty spending time together watching greys anatomy transformed into the watching of each other’s anatomy.
"jermajesty—" you moaned, your body arching towards him as he pulled away from the kiss to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. his hands slid up your white tank, the fabric bunching up as he lifted it off you, your titties spilling out unconfined by a bra.
after discarding of the shirt across the room, jermajesty gripped one of your soft, round breasts in his hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking on your hard nipple with urgency. you couldn't help but grind your hips in his lap, feeling his thick boner pressing against your soaked clothed pussy.
"you're so fucking beautiful, baby," he moaned, his lips kissing all over your hard, perky nipples as you bit down on your lip to stifle your moans. your hands slip inside his sweatpants, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. your fingers eagerly search for what belongs to you, finding a hard and warm bulge in his boxers.
with a sense of ownership, you pull out his curved and veiny dick, stroking it gently in your palm. a small bead of precum forms on the tip, smearing onto your hand as you continue to stroke.
"shit y/n," he groans, his grip on your ass so strong it spreads your pussy lips. in response, you moan increasing the speed of your hand as you start to kiss and lick on his ears, fully aware of how much he loves it.
in a frenzy, he nearly rips your boyshorts styled underwear as he pulls them to the side, revealing your dripping wet pussy. for a brief moment, he considers grabbing a condom from his drawer, but the desire to be inside you right now overpowers any rational thought.
with that in mind, he pulls your hand away from his dick and slowly rubs the fat head of his dick against your slick folds, then thrust in hard, burying himself inside you with one stroke. you gasp and grip the headboard as his dick stuffs your pussy. whining & biting your lip.
he hisses, “this pussy so tight ma, fuck!” you begin to rock your hips slowly, adjusting to the sensation of being stretched to the brim. as you gain confidence, you pick up the pace, and he matches your movements, fucking back into you.
your eyes flutter shut and your mouth opens in an inaudible moan as you take all of him like a champ. He smacks and grips your ass, leaving a lingering heat that you know will soon bruise.
"that's my baby, ride this fucking dick princess!" he whispers praises in your ear as you whimper, trying to keep yourself balanced on your tippy toes.
"such a good girl..." you can feel your release building, your ass clapping against his thighs from the intense thrust as you chase your climax. your pussy grips and clenches around him so perfectly, he can feel that familiar feeling of his own orgasm approaching.
he wrestles with the decision of leaving his kids inside you as you both cum together, or being responsible and pulling out of you depriving himself of this incredible sensation.
but as you start bouncing harder and gripping his dick tighter, he can't think about it any longer. your nails dig into his shoulders as you cry out, "fuck daddy, i'm about to cum." he responds by fucking you back even harder, his own moans joining yours as he urges you on, "me too baby, cum with daddy." and within seconds, you're both reaching your peak - your pussy creaming down his dick while you scream his name as his warm seed spurts inside you.

"fuuuck," he groans, holding you close as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, both of your chests heaving as you catch your breath.
"i'll buy you a plan b later," he promises, gently caressing your back as you both try to calm down from the intense orgasm.
the red recording light blinked on. you immediately pointed the camera at jaafar. he looked up from where he was adjusting the strap of his backpack and groaned. “baby, we just got off the plane.” “say hi to the vlog.” “absolutely not.” you zoomed in on his face.
“that’s not very nice.” “you shoved a camera in my face after a fourteen hour flight.” “the fans yearn for content.” “the people can wait.” you laughed, following him as he started walking through the airport.
“anyway, hi guys. welcome back to another vlog. i’m in japan with my fiancé,” “unfortunately.” “and we’re gonna be here for a week.”jaafar looked over his shoulder. “you can edit that out. “no.” “please.” “no.” he sighed dramatically before continuing to walk, and you caught the tiny smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. first clip secured.
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the first thing you learned was that jaafar became ten times more excited when he traveled. you were currently standing outside a claw machine store while he stared through the glass like a child discovering christmas. “jaafar.” no response “jaafar.” still nothing. you turned the camera toward yourself. “we’ve been here for twenty five minutes.” “i almost got it.” “you’ve said that six times “because i almost did.”
you panned the camera toward the machine. inside sat a small white plushie. the same plushie he’d been trying to win for almost half an hour. he inserted another coin. you couldn’t stop laughing. “how much money have you spent?” “don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” the claw missed again. jaafar stared. you zoomed in. “thoughts?” “i hate this country.”
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later that night, you were walking through tokyo together. the city glowed around you. lights reflected against the pavement while people passed by in every direction. you weren’t even really filming. just capturing little moments.
jaafar walking beside you. jaafar stopping to point out something interesting. jaafar trying a drink from a vending machine and immediately making a face. “that’s disgusting.” “then why do you keep drinking it?” “because maybe it gets better.” it didn’t.
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the next day was mostly shopping. and despite your insistence that you were fine, jaafar somehow ended up carrying almost everything. you turned the camera toward him. bags hanging from both arms. a shopping bag looped around one wrist.
another tucked under his arm. “you look ridiculous.” “and yet i’m helping.” “i could carry some.”“no.” “jaafar.” “no.” “i feel bad.” “good.” you laughed so hard the camera shook. “good?” “yeah. maybe next time you’ll stop saying ‘i’m just gonna get one thing.’” you glanced away. “okay, but i meant it at the time.” “you bought seven things.” “that’s still technically close to one.” “not even a little.” that evening, back at the hotel, you were reviewing clips while jaafar showered. most of them were random. food, stores, and street views. but there were also dozens of moments you didn’t remember filming.
little things. the way he’d automatically reached for your hand while crossing busy streets. the way he’d looked back to make sure you were still beside him. the way he’d smiled whenever you laughed. your heart melted. the bathroom door opened. jaafar walked out, drying his hair with a towel. “what are you smiling at?” you turned the laptop toward him. a clip played. him holding your hand while the two of you walked through a crowded street. his ears immediately turned pink.
“delete that.” you gasped.“why“ because.” “because why?” “because i look stupid.” “you look in love.” he rolled his eyes. but he couldn’t hide his smile. you set the camera down on the nightstand.
“come here.” he immediately crawled onto the bed beside you. an arm wrapping around your waist. pulling you against him. comfortable. you rested your head against his shoulder. “you know everybody’s gonna say you’re obsessed with me.” “they’d be correct.” you froze. slowly looking up. “what?” his grin widened. “what?” “did you just admit it?” “admit what?” “that you’re obsessed with me.” “i fear that may have been public knowledge for years.” you laughed.
the camera, forgotten on the nightstand, continued recording. capturing the way he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. capturing the way you smiled against his shoulder. capturing a moment neither of you realized would end up becoming everyone’s favorite part of the vlog.
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the next clip opened with the camera pointed at the hotel ceiling. “okay.” your voice sounded slightly breathless. “today is premiere day.” the camera flipped around. you were sitting in front of a mirror while getting ready. behind you, jaafar was standing in front of the closet. completely frozen. staring at two different jackets “which one?” you zoomed in.
“he’s been standing there for ten minutes.” “because this is important.” “it’s a jacket.” “it’s the jacket.” you immediately started laughing. “those mean the same thing.” “they absolutely do not.” you pointed toward the black one. “that one.” “that’s what i was thinking.” “then why did you ask me?” “validation.”
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a little later, the camera was balanced on the vanity. you were doing the final touches of your makeup while jaafar adjusted his watch. every few seconds you caught him looking over. then looking away when you noticed. then looking again. eventually you lowered the camera. “why do you keep staring at me?” “i’m not.” “you are.” “baby, i’m not.”
you raised an eyebrow. he looked away. you burst out laughing. “you’re so bad at lying.” “you just look pretty.” his answer came so casually, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. your heart immediately melted. “aw.” “don’t do that.” “do what?”
“make that face.” “what face?” “the one where you know i love you.” you smiled even wider. “that’s my favorite face.”
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the next clip showed the two of you arriving. lights, cameras, people everywhere. you lowered your voice dramatically. “okay, we’re here.” jaafar looked down at the camera. “you’re acting like we’re entering a secret military base.”
“this is a high pressure situation.” “you’re holding a vlog camera.” “exactly.” he shook his head. but before he turned away, he reached down and fixed a piece of your hair that had fallen out of place. completely unconsciously.
like it was second nature. you caught the entire thing on camera. most of the premiere footage ended up being little moments. jaafar greeting people. laughing with cast members. taking pictures. stopping every few minutes to make sure you were nearby. you noticed it every single time.
the room could be full of hundreds of people. and somehow his eyes always found yours. always. at one point you were filming from across the room. he was talking to someone. completely engaged in conversation, then he glanced up. saw you. and smiled, immediately. without hesitation. the kind of smile reserved for one person. you. the camera actually dipped for a second because it made your stomach flip.
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later that night, after everything had ended, the two of you slipped away for a quiet walk through the city. still dressed up. still riding the excitement of the evening. the camera was mostly pointed at the street lights.the sounds of the city around you. and occasionally jaafar whenever he said something funny. “so.” you looked over. “so?” did i survive? “barely.” “wow.” “you were very brave.”
“thank you.” “especially during the jacket crisis.” he groaned immediately. “you’re never letting that go.”“i absolutely will not.”
eventually you found a quieter street. less crowded. peaceful. you stopped filming for a second, just enjoying being together. then you noticed jaafar looking at you. you slowly raised the camera. caught him instantly.
“what?” he pointed.” nothing.” “you were staring again.” “i was not.” “roll the footage.” “there is no footage.” “there literally is.” you held up the camera. his face turned red. which only made you laugh harder. “you know,” he said, reaching over to pull you closer by the waist, “one day you’re gonna run out of ways to expose me.”
“not likely.” “i have faith.” “i don’t.” he smiled before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead. the city lights glowed around you. the camera capturing every second. and for once, neither of you cared.
Genre: SMUT!!(MDNI), Established Relationship. University!AU
Warnings: AGAIN SMUT!! (MDNI), I mean pure filth. Que-Dawg!Jermajesty (Valid warning). Jermajesty pretends to be non-chalant(ends up very chalant.) Cussing. Use of the ‘n’ word. Jealous!Jerpapi. Arguing. Reader is manhandled more than once. Violence. Reader is referred to as Jermajesty’s “Bitch”, Car sex. Toe sucking. Coochie slapping (once). Oral!(Fem. Receiving). Squirting! P in V, Unprotected! Possessive sex. Slight breeding kink (?), Slight dacryphilia (?). Twin I can’t lie, this is overly freaked out..
Summary: Everyone knows that you and Jermajesty are the ‘it’ couple on campus. Everyone also knows your boyfriend is president of the most notorious frat there, Omega Psi Phi. At the biggest party of the year, during their routine stroll, Jermajesty gets a little too beside himself. Since you aren’t one to be taken for a fool, you decide to get beside someone else.
W.C: 5.4k
Author’s Note: Credit for this log idea and moodboard goes straight to @siiighrns. Y’all, I fear I went a lil ham on this one. BUT it’s really good! (I’m biased). As always, thank you for reading! Share what you think, reblog if you love it!
-Love, B. 🤍 ↪ The Archive.
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The music is already shaking the walls by the time you step inside. Heat hits first, then the smell of smoke, sweat, and liquor. Bodies press shoulder to shoulder, and people dance wherever they can find space; others cling to the walls like a lifeline. Someone’s yelling over the music about body shots, a sorority girl is laughing too loudly, and in the darker corners of the house, couples are already latching onto each other, swapping a little more than spit. Homecoming always does this: turns the whole campus into one restless cesspool of drunk, loud, horny twenty-somethings. This party is the one everybody’s been waiting for; the football game against the opposing university had been won with a staggering victory, and now it was time to let loose. Omega Psi Phi always does it big, and this year is no exception.
You stick close to your girls as you move through the crowd, eyes adjusting, taking it all in. The energy bothers you. Everything feels too loud, maybe even reckless. The mess around you isn’t your problem; Jermajesty is. The way he’d been acting all day had pissed you off. Short answers, stuck off in his phone, hellbent on like you were his biggest inconvenience.
You tried to talk to him more than once, wanting to know what crawled so far up his ass and died that he’d call you ‘bruh’ for most of the day. Still, he gave you nothing but annoyed sighs and kissed teeth. Fed up, you decided to go to the party on your own. Since your boyfriend wanted to act like you were such a bother, he didn’t have to worry about you.
Now you’re here, scoping out the scene, almost sure he’s cooled off by now. It doesn’t take long to find him, and when you do, your stomach drops. ‘Off the Leash’ by Gucci Mane blares in the background. He’s locked in on some bitch like you don’t even exist. She’s all up on him, titties nearly spilling out of her cheap dress, laughing and feeling on his arms. He’s eating it up, rolling his head from side to side, tongue flicking out with a smile, moving like he’s a free agent. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it somewhere in the crowd. The chain you got him for his birthday glints in the light against the wife-beater he had on underneath. His large frame hovers over hers. The muscles in his back flex as he moves. You stare for a second too long, and his eyes catch yours, winking before pushing himself back onto the girl.
“This nigga trippin.” You mutter, more to yourself than anybody else. Anger settles in your chest while you watch him, eyes stinging as you take in the scene before you. The longer you stare, the clearer it gets. He’s comfortable embarrassing you. He’s acting like you don’t even exist, like he doesn’t know the only reason you came was him.
Your jaw clenches so hard your teeth hurt, but you force your expression to stay neutral. You’re not about to be that girl, pressed, kicking and screaming in the middle of a party just because your man ain’t shit. The two girls you came with scoff, rubbing your back apologetically. Imani, your closest friend since freshman year, speaks first. “Leave that nigga where he is, baby. He’s clearly busy.” Your other friend, Niyah, pipes up next. “Yeah, girl, forget his ass! It’s plenty of niggas here that would kiss yours. Let’s go find em’ and get fucked up like we came to!”
Niyah was right about that, you looked the fuck good. Eyes had been on you since you walked into the cramped space. Your braids are freshly done, the face card never declines, and the outfit draping your frame didn’t help either, leaving very little to the imagination. Nothing extravagant, just a plum colored mini-dress that hugged you tight, coupled with a strappy pair of open-toed heels. Still, nobody does it like you. As you think about all the ways you can get even, the girl fawning over your boyfriend takes his hand and leads him deeper into the sea of people.
You make up your mind fast, and with a single nod to your friends, you let them guide you in the opposite direction, toward something that feels more in your control. As you move through the horde of undergrads, your mind focuses on the way your boyfriend practically disowned you in front of everybody, and it becomes crystal clear that liquor is going to be your best friend tonight.
Shot after shot passes through your glossed lips, slowly but surely numbing the irritation that has settled over your spirit. The hurt is still there, but it’s starting to blur at the edges. As the liquid courage flows through your veins, you get the bright idea to scale the kitchen counter and dance a little bit, hoping to distract yourself from him. Yells of encouragement from onlookers spur you on, and just as you get ready to bend over, your eyes find him again. He’s behind a different girl now, his hands roaming her body, softer than when it’s yours, whispering something in her ear with a smirk. The enthusiasm drains out of you as quickly as it came. Suddenly, the counter is too high to stand. on. You swallow the lump in your throat.
Before the pain can linger, rival frat Kappa Alpha Psi arrives. The sound of glass breaking rattles from the speakers as Soulja Boy’s ‘Prettyboy Swag,’ begins, changing from Omega's theme to Kappas. The crowd parts just enough, and eyes start drifting toward them. They stroll through, slow and steady. Instead of stepping back and ignoring it as is expected of you, you move fast. You place yourself right where you’ll be seen, with less than pure intentions. It doesn’t take their president long to lock onto you. Ah, Rakheem Jones. Tall, dark, and impossibly charming. An academic beast with a smile that could stop any girl’s heart, someone you’d explicitly been told to stay away from. Oh yeah, you’d hit the fucking jackpot.
He moves through the room like he owns the air around him, stopping the stroll in front of you with an exaggerated swagger. His eyes drag slowly from your face, down your body, and back up again, taking his time on purpose. All you see in front of you is quiet certainty, the kind that tells you exactly what he wants. He isn’t Jermajesty, not by a long shot, but you can’t deny that he’s pretty damn close. Close enough for you right now.
A smile breaks on his face as his frat brothers bounce in step. He spreads his arms out, palms facing up in an open invitation, and you let your body answer for you. Though you are no doubt very drunk, every movement is intentional. Jermajesty’s reaction is now an afterthought. If he could have his fun, why couldn’t you? Your lips curl into something slow and dangerous, the bottom one caught between your teeth as you step forward and spin around. You bend at the waist, hands sliding down your legs and stopping at your ankles, nasty and slow; a move typically reserved for the man making a mockery of you across the room.
As your hips rock from side to side, the dress hugging your frame rides up, showing off your lace panties; it’s retaliation disguised as a proposition, but Rakheem doesn’t need to know that. It’s effortless, the way your ass moves in this dress. It should be a crime. Shouts of approval ring throughout the room. Rakheem steps in, palming your rear like he’s been given permission. He presses into you, testing the waters, and when you don’t pull away, he makes another move. Next thing you know, his hands wrap around the back of your thighs, and you’re in the air.
High above the crowd, sitting on his shoulders, you feel the room erupt because everybody knows what that means. He’s claimed you for the night. Cheers break out all over.
“Ain’t that Maj’s girl?”
“Oh shit–it is!”
One of the other Nupes yells out, “Aye! She with the Nupes now!”
The words spread fast, cutting through the music and the noise. All eyes are trained on the two of you, and you can’t help but bask in it. Someone passes you a cup, and you raise it toward the sky. You toss the drink back, and with a shout, you unknowingly seal your fate for the night. “She with the Nupes now!” Across the room, Jermajesty hears it before he understands it. Ain’t no way he just heard…what he thinks he heard. He tries to ignore the commotion.
Tries to. He’s caught up in his own game of pretending he doesn’t care, but that nonchalant shit flies out the window when he takes a quick glance around the room. Everything stops. There you are. Elevated above everybody else, laughing, moving like you don’t have a care in the world…on another man’s shoulders, practically humping his head. The sight is like a slap in the face, and the shock turns to fury.
And it’s not just any man, you’re too petty for that. It was Kappa Alpha Psi’s fucking president. Jermajesty’s teeth grind together, and his hands ball into fists. The girl in front of him grabs his face gently, trying to bring his attention back to her. “Focus on me, baby. She don’t mean nothing.” When he registers her acrylics grazing his jaw, he nearly growls in disgust, no longer interested in her advances. With an open palm and five fingers, he mushes her back, “Fuck off me.” She stumbles and looks at him like he just lost his mind. She just might be right about that. Jermajesty doesn’t waste any more time and pushes through the crowd, fuming.
By the time he gets close, you’re fully gone, rolling your body, completely unbothered. Then your eyes meet his, and you laugh. Not small or nervous, no, one big boisterous cackle that displays just how little you care. Again, while looking him dead in the eye, you chant, “She with the motherfuckin’ Nupes now!” Your smile stretches ear to fucking ear. Rakheem follows your lead, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Real slow like, the rival Greek plants his hands firmly on your waist and lifts you over his head, guiding your body down until your feet hit the floor. Rakheem then presses a deep arch into your spine, positioning you exactly how he wants you, eyes locked on Jermajesty the entire time. He only has time to roll his hips once. That’s it, the disrespect is too loud for him to ignore.
Jermajesty snaps, shoving you aside roughly, fist already in motion. It connects clean with Rakheem’s jaw, the crack sharp enough to cut through the music. Just like that, everything explodes. Omegas step in immediately, forming up behind their president without hesitation. Kappas surge forward just as fast, not about to let theirs get dropped without response.
The party morphs into shouting, pushing, and different hues of purple and red colliding with each other. Phones come out, and flashlights illuminate the brawl; the partygoers are having a ball with this, no doubt staring lives and reporting in on Snapchat. The frat's reputation could very well be on the line, but Jermajesty could give a fuck less. All he cares about is bodying the nigga dumb enough to touch his bitch. He’s got Rakheem by the back of his shirt. “Fucked up!” he yells, fist connecting again. “You. Got. Me. Fucked. Up.” Each word lands with another hit. Rakheem tries to defend himself, but he’s outmatched. Jermajesty is bigger, stronger, and fueled by nothing but alcohol and jealousy. The poor Kappa’s licks are as soft as cotton balls.
Your boyfriend doesn’t stop until Rakheem’s limp, no longer able to fight back, and far too weak to hold himself up. He leans in, making sure the Kappa’s president looks him in the eye. Voice low and dangerous, he speaks, “Try that shit again. Watch what I do.” He drops Rakheem and stands to his full height, chest rising fast, and finally looks around. His brothers are still fighting, having dealt out the same kind of damage to the rest of Kheem’s posse. Jermajesty can’t let this get any worse, or he’ll have a meeting with the dean come Monday. He inhales once, then lets out a loud bark. His fraternity falls back, bellowing out their own barks in response to his call. Across from them, the Kappas hesitate, but ultimately decide they’ve taken a big enough loss tonight. They pull away, dragging Rakheem with them, and just like that, it's over. The music creeps back up, loud chatter resumes, and bodies start to move again, like nothing even happened.
When the dust settles completely, and Jermajesty is sure no one else is going to try him, he turns to face you, “Say your little goodbyes, and take your ass to the car.” His voice holds a finality that you really can’t argue with. You stand there for a moment, testing whether or not defiance would fare well for you. When he blows through his nose, you understand the answer is no. Doing as he says, you find Mani and Niyah and offer them quick hugs. “Ooh! Somebody in trouble!” Niyah starts, “Mhmm, little Ms. ‘She with the nupes now!’ Nah, more like she done did it now!” Mani finishes. You roll your eyes. They’re right, you’re in deep shit, but you won’t admit it.
“Shut up. That nigga had it comin’.” They giggle and kiss your cheek goodbye, wishing you luck. As you make your way toward the door, you feel eyes on you again. Some of Jermajesty’s frat brothers cast betrayed glances in your direction. “Fuck are y’all looking at?” They shake their heads and wave you off, “Nothing, Nupe.” You sigh, completely over tonight. The walk to the car is long and uncomfortable as you reflect on how everything unfolded. The thought that you might’ve done too much crosses your mind. Did Jermajesty really deserve that kind of betrayal? Flashes of him caressing someone else with so much care and tenderness replay. Yes the fuck he did.
The sleek, black BMW, which had been given to Jermajesty as a graduation gift, comes into view. It was fully loaded: all-black interior, leather seats, moonroof, and custom headrests with his and your initials. Arms folded, you lean against the door, anxiety washing over your bones. What if he breaks up with you over this? The move you made was bold and not something to be taken lightly in the Greek world. You still love him, but god does he piss you off. While you ponder, his voice cuts through the air as he says his goodbyes. You shift on your feet as an unsettling feeling nestles deep in your gut. He stalks toward you now, aura anything but safe, letterman jacket clutched tightly in his right hand. Jermajesty’s head tilts to the side as he lifts his free hand to his face, brows furrowed, rubbing his jaw as his gaze locks on you. His gait is strong; each step he takes feels like it has the magnitude of a devastating earthquake. He’s pissed.
“The fuck was that? Huh?” Jermajesty asks, eyes hard, voice eerily calm. Your arms unfold, and you stare at him in disbelief. Did he seriously have the nerve to be calling you out right now? “I could ask you the same damn thing, Jermajesty!” He cuts his gaze to the side, trying to keep his composure. “You’ve been pissy all fuckin’ day. I tried over and over again to check up on you, make sure you were straight, and what do you do? Treat me like I’m some regular bitch, that’s what!” Your arms fly around frantically as you speak. His eyes return to yours, daring you to keep going. You accept, and double down continuing the tirade, “And THEN, when I pull up to this fuck ass party, that I didn’t even want to be at by the way, what do I find? You. Snug as a bug in a fuckin’ rug with some random. Get the fuck outta my face with that ‘Fuck was that?’ bullshit, Majesty. Seriously.”
He glances away, nodding a few times before speaking, “You done?” That’s it? That’s all he has to offer you? Having reached a boiling point, a response dripping with venom leaves your lips. “Nah, nigga. We done.” Jermajesty chuckles, unlocking the car and tossing his jacket in the backseat. “Yeah, okay.” He didn’t think you were serious. Sure, you’ve both been through this song and dance plenty of times before, but you always stay. With a huff, you throw your arms up and spin on your heels, starting in the other direction, hoping it’s not too late to catch a right with Mani. “How the fuck you gon get home, y/n?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. You growl and turn back around, “I don’t know Jermajesty! Maybe the Kappas will take me in.”
His eyes darken, and in two quick steps, he’s in front of you. “Get your ass…in the fuckin’ car.” You roll your eyes and push his chest, creating some distance. “Fuck. No.” You snarl, “This ain't even the first time you’ve pulled some shit like this. I’m fucking done, Jermaj—” Your words catch in your throat when his right hand wraps around your wrist, and he drags you into him. His other hand comes up to grip your chin as he pulls you into a searing kiss. You curse internally, feeling yourself melt as his soft, plush lips move against yours. The hand holding your wrist moves to your back, pressing you closer as he deepens the kiss. It trails down further, cupping your ass and squeezing. The action makes you gasp, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.
You both wrestle for dominance, but another firm squeeze to your behind leaves Jermajesty as the victor. When you part, his lips are covered in a thin film of gloss, matching yours. “Ma,” He whispers soft and low, “If you think you leavin’ me…you out yo fuckin’ mind. I’m not gon’ tell your little ass again, get in the car.” This time, dazed, you listen. Slipping into the passenger side and clicking your seatbelt in place. Jermajesty follows suit, starting the engine and peeling out with a quickness. As he drives, you notice the way his large hands grip the wheel, knuckles white as he seethes.
After some time, he pulls into an empty parking lot, throws the beemer in park, and gets out. The back door on the driver’s side swings open, and he slips in. Your boyfriend leans back and spreads his legs wide. You look over your shoulder to find his eyes locked on you. “Strip.” He says, low and dark. Unsure of whether or not he’s serious, you freeze. He lifts a brow, wondering what’s taking you so long. Message received. You shimmy out of your dress in the seat and work on your heels next. Once finished, you move to climb over the center console. “Uh-uh, all of it.” You pause, glancing down at your body, still clad in your bra, and the same panties you were so keen on showing off earlier. Peeking back up at your boyfriend, you see his arms are now resting behind his head as he waits with practiced restraint.
Sitting back, gradually, you peel the last layer of clothing and dignity off your body. Jermajesty revels in your beauty, eyes raking up and down your form twice, before patting his thigh. Now, given permission, you slip into the back of the car and onto his lap. Jermajesty's head is tipped up, and his hands, rough and calloused, hold your waist softly, as if he’ll break you if he isn’t careful. He lets a deep breath out through his nose and looks into your eyes, “You know I love you, right, mama?” Though it didn’t feel like just moments ago, you still nod, big doe eyes peering back at him. “Good, because I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
He then reaches for something near him. You hear it rustle before it comes into view. The letterman. He holds it up and only says three words: “Put it on.” Hesitantly, you slide your arms into the sleeves and shrug it the rest of the way on. “Gorgeous.” Jermajesty slides you off his lap gently and pushes you toward the other end of the car, “Lie back.” You ease down, and your legs part in the process. He takes in the sight of your dripping heat and lets out an appreciative groan. Your legs stretch past his face, and your toes touch the glass next to him. In the soft moonlight illuminating the car, your boyfriend notices something dancing on your ankle. Delicate gold lace, adorned with a pendant shaped like a 'J', rests there.
The visual nearly undoes Jermajesty. He takes your leg in his right hand and bends your knee. His fingers curl around your toes as he places soft kisses along your foot. His left hand trails up to caress the rest of your leg. Eventually, the hand holding your toes slides down to your heel. Jermajesty's kisses grow more urgent, less controlled. He moves feverishly, and before you can process what is happening, your big toe is in his mouth. He swirls his tongue, and a deep moan reverberates in your ears. You didn’t expect it to feel as good as it did, and the action earned a soft moan. Maybe it was the sensuality, but your body shakes with need. The slick between your thighs becomes unbearable. While your boyfriend continues his ministrations, you reach down. Your clit is aching, and the soft circles you begin to rub are barely enough to satisfy you.
When a whimper escapes your chest, and before you can pick up the pace, a sharp slap to your hand stops you. Jermajesty pulls off of your toe with a pop. “I didn’t say you could touch my shit, ma.” He then leans over and spreads you wider, wrapping his hands around your thighs and lifting your back off the seat. You look at him in surprise, and Jermajesty holds your gaze, blowing cool air over your clit. Frustrated, you whine out, “Maj, please—” He chuckles and shakes his head. “I can’t admire what's mine, mama?”
You let out a huff and try to sink back down. Big, veiny arms keep you steady, though. Jermajesty tuts at your bratty behavior, “Fuckin’ spoiled.” As you go to make another complaint, his lips wrap around your clit, sucking hard. “Oh, fuck— Maj!” He eats like a man starved, slurping like you’ll run dry if he stops. The sounds of your sins echo in the confined space. His tongue trails down to your ass and back up. He pushes the wet muscle deep into your pussy, earning a high wail from you. He stays there for a moment, savoring your taste, before moving back up toward the bundle of nerves hidden in your folds. Stars form behind your eyelids when two fingers dip in, making up for the empty feeling.
It’s all too much, too fast. You feel yourself careening toward the edge as he pumps them into you. He quickens his pace, knowing your body like the back of his hand. The digits buried inside of you press into that spongy spot over and over again. “Give it to me.” He murmurs into your heat. As if your body were waiting for his command, euphoria crashes into you. You tense as your eyes roll back, and his name slips off your tongue as you ride out your high. Jermajesty doesn’t stop, drinking your juices like he’s found the fountain of youth.
Overstimulation racks through your body, and you push him off your center. He leans back, breaths labored, chin glistening with your essence. You’re breathing just as hard, unsure if you’ll be able to withstand what else he has in store for you. “Baby—” He shushes you while pulling the wife-beater over his head. His jeans come off next, then his shoes, leaving him in nothing but his boxers. The outline of his arousal leaves your mouth watering. No matter how many times you fuck him, you never get used to it. “Turn around f’me. Arch my shit the way I like it.” Itching for more, you do as he says, sinking into a sinful arch. Your pussy is on full display, and that beautiful, round ass has him thanking whichever god sent you down to him.
Your ears pick up on his movement, sure that he’s slipped out of the last layer between the two of you. You feel his heavy cock against your inner thigh, pre-cum smearing against it. The feeling leaves you clenching around nothing. Jermajesty leans down, breath ghosting over the shell of your ear, “When I’m done with you…you gon remember you ain’t fuckin’ with no little ass puppy.” With that, he lines himself up with your heat. The tip nudges against your entrance, teasing you to the point of tears. In one long, slow thrust, Jermajesty bottoms out and has you split wide around his length.
Your mouth opens, and a loud moan tears from your chest. It burns so fucking good, he’s filled you to the brim. Your boyfriend waits for you to adjust, and when you nod, his strokes begin slowly, dragging along your sopping walls with deliberate patience. His cock is covered in your slick, and it takes everything in him to hold steady. He wants you to beg. “You forgot who I am, ma?” He asks, while still digging you out. Already too cockdrunk to speak, you shake your head with a muffled “Mm-mm.” Not satisfied with your answer, Jermajesty switches gears, picking up the pace. He feeds you harder, faster strokes, hips slamming into your ass roughly, “Nah. Tell me, baby.” He breathes out, “You forgot?”
Your breath hitches, and you throw your head back, drool sliding down the corners of your mouth. “Noo— Neverrr,” you drag out, surprised by the sudden change in tempo. Jermajesty catches the underside of your chin in his right hand, pulling you up as he props up his left leg near your side for better leverage. Again, he speeds up, driving mean strokes into your already abused pussy. A series of grunts leaves his lips before he lets you drop back down against the seat. The same foot he has propped up comes to rest on the side of your face as he reaches new depths in your core.
“Which frat you with— Shit!” The new angle leaves both of you weak. You search for the right words, but his fat mushroom tip bullying into your g-spot has you stupid. “I don’t know, Maj!— Fuck, I can’t—” He presses more of his weight into you, a ‘Thwack!’ rings through the air, and you struggle to catch your breath. “You don’t know? Sure you do, baby girl.” The strokes are heavy and slow now, grazing over your pleasure center again, and again. “I don’t, I swear.” Jermajesty laughs then, rich and smooth. “You really don’t? Guess I gotta stop then huh?” He says, still stroking deliciously slow. Panic washes over your blissed out face, “NO!— I just… Maj, give me a hint!”
His shoulders bounce as he realizes he has you right where he wants you. Too fucked out and stupid to think about anything but his dick, “What jacket you got on, baby?” Hell, if you know, all you're worried about is the heat pooling in your belly. “Majesty. Please, baby— I don’t know!” He grips you by the waist and pulls you off of him. A cry rips from your body, and tears form in your eyes. Jermajesty flips you onto your back, “It’s okay, pretty girl, don’t cry.” He utters mockingly, "I'm gon’ give you what you want.” he finishes, leaning down to lick away your tears.
In one swift move, Jermajesty pulls back and enters you again. A chortled gasp reaches his ears, and he smirks. He holds himself there for a moment and then decides that he wants to wreck you completely. He folds you in half, your knees almost touch your ears, and the tips of your toes touch the window behind you. The filthy mating press leaves your faces just inches apart. Jermajesty breathes out slowly to ground himself, “Omega. Psi. Phi.” He whispers, voice sweet like honey. Your face contorts in ecstasy as he punctuates each Greek letter with heavy, relentless blows to your pussy.
“Those are the only words I wanna hear.” He leaves no room for you to process and begins pounding into you like he’s got a personal vendetta against your cervix. “Ughh! Maj!— Fuck- Slow down!” Your boyfriend ignores your plea, driving into you harder. “Who. You. With? Hm?” Your brain is sent into overdrive, and instead of answering, your hand comes up to push against his stomach, hoping to slow down the brutal assault on your pussy. “Move it,” He grunts out, head dropping to watch where the two of you are joined together. His hand shifts up to squeeze your right tit, moving yours out of the way in the process.
The sensation makes your body twitch. Everything feels like jelly, and it’s hard to keep your eyes open; with them half-lidded, the only thing you’re able to see properly is the gold chain that dangles over you, thumping against his chest with every stroke. He presses delicate kisses across your chest before moving up to that sensitive spot on your neck. He sucks harshly, and a deep purple mark forms there. “I’m not askin’ again, you better tell me before I stop.” He says, nipping at your neck as his girth bullies into your g-spot, “Omega— Fuck! Psi Phi!” You yelp. Not yet satisfied, your boyfriend leans up, steadying most of his weight with one hand on the back of your thigh. “Louder.” He growls out, cracking his other hand down on your dripping snatch. Repeating the name is a feat you’re only able to accomplish by the grace of god. It still isn’t enough for Jermajesty.
“Again.” He orders, thumbing at your abused clit. Tight, fast circles send pleasure shooting up through your spine. “Omega!” He nods along in encouragement, “Mhm,” he groans, “Give it to me, baby”, eyes still focused on the way your warm, wet hole swallows his length. His hips hammer into yours at an impossible speed, sweat beading on his forehead. “Psi— Ooh Shit!” He moves to nuzzle his face in your neck, now struggling to hold himself together. His hand leaves your clit, and presses down just above your mound, adding to the whirlwind of stimulation. “Come on y/n— Fuck! Almost there. Give it to me!” With a piercing scream, the final letter tumbles from your throat. You feel his lips curl into a smile against your skin. “There it is. Shit, that’s so fucking good.” His praise adds to the familiar warmth settling into your core. You feel it coming hard and fast, “Maj, wait! The seats—” His heavy body drags against yours, “Fuck the seats. Gimme my shit.”
It only takes a few more seconds of him pistoning into you before you fall apart. Your vision goes white, and your toes curl, and your jaw drops with a silent cry. Violent streams of pleasure spurt around your boyfriend’s dick and across his abdomen. Jermajesty is right behind you, grip so tight you’re sure it’ll bruise. “Fuck! Gonna cum.” His stills as his balls tighten, and a loud groan rips from his chest. Thick globs of his spunk coat your insides. He stays put until he’s sure you’ve taken all of it.
You both breathe heavily as you come down from your highs. Your boyfriend slides out of you gently and moves to look at the mess he’s made of you. As your body twitches, completely and utterly spent, his eyes flicker to your half-lidded ones, and a smirk creeps onto his face. “A Nupe, can’t fuck you like this. Remember that.”
𝜗ৎ contains. plug!jermajesty, weed usage, foul language, oral sex, car sex
“you aight?” jermajesty asked as you entered his car by the passenger seat and he was just grinding up some weed in his weed grinder. “is that the good stuff you talkin’ bout?” you asked while watching him as he put the finished grinded weed into the paper and rolling it up “that shit strong as hell, just warning ya” He chuckled as he glanced at you, His brown eyes wandering on you for some moments before he focused back on finishing the weed.
“you still charging 20 bucks for that stuff?” you questioned him while making yourself comfortable on the passenger seat. “mhm but assuming it’s you, you prolly broke as hell” Jermajesty laughed and you playfully rolled your eyes.
For a moment you watched him, There was something oddly calming about it, the concentration in his expression and the carefulness of it, the way he seemed at ease and tongue sticking out in concentration. When he finished, he grabbed his lighter, burning around a little before lightening it and taking the first drag, slow and deep before puffing it out slowly.
“I mean you still gotta come up with sum cuz i still ain’t got nun of that money you owe me three weeks ago..unless you wanna suck me off or sum” He joked as he passed you the joint.
you raised your brow, surprised. “hm, you for real?” you asked him serious, clearly he was being playful and you didn’t seem to catch on.
He looked at you with surprise and amusement in his eyes. “Damn, you can't even tell that I'm just playin' shawty?” He chuckled and shook his head. “I mean shiiit, if you down for that then I’m all about that. ain’t got head inna whole while” Jermajesty said as he watched you puff the smoke in and then out again before you handed it back to him.
He slightly shifted in his seat, adjusting himself as a growing bulge was forming under his baggy jeans. “Well?” He raised his brow, quite literally waiting as the joint rested between his fingers while he leaned back.
You bit your lips, eyeing the bulge straining against Jermajesty’s jeans. The scent of his arousal mixed with the weed filled the space of the car. Feeling bold, you reached out and palmed his hardening length through the denim, giving it a firm squeeze.
A low grown escaped his lips as you groped his clothed erection. His hips bucking into your hand, seeking more friction. “Fuck..you playin’ with me”
With the other hand, he reached down to undo his belt and zipper, freeing his erect cock out of his boxers as he lifted himself up a little to pull his jeans down.
“come on then, show me what that pretty mouth can do” His voice low as he took another deep drag from the joint before placing it away. He stroked himself slowly, smearing the precum along his dick as he waited for you to make a move before he adjusted his seat so you could reach more.
Without hesitation you leaned down, glossy lips wrapping around the tip, swirling your tongue around it and savouring the salty and sweet taste. Slowly you started to taking him deeper, lips stretching around his girth as inch after inch disappeared into your mouth.
“Mhm..” you moaned around him, bopping your head slow at first, your hand resting on his thighs as you angled yourself into a position that was comfortable in this tight space.
“Ohhh fuuuck yesss...” Jermajesty groaned deeply, his head falling back against the headrest as your wet mouth engulfed his throbbing cock. His fingers tangled in your curly hair, guiding your movements as you sucked him off with enthusiasm.
“so good with that tongue..Shit just like that” He panted as he thrusted his hips shallowly, fucking your face with short and quick strokes. “you gon’ make me bust quick if you keep that up” he groaned once again as his grip tightened in your hair.
The filthy sounds of gagging filled the air as you deep throated him again and again, drool escaping the corners of your stretched lips and dripping down your chin, relaxing your throat as you took him till your nose was buried to his pubes.
After a moment, you pulled back slowly, dragging your lips along his cock until only the tip remained between them. You flicked your tongue rapidly over his slit, making eye contact with him before opening wide again and sinking back down, sucking harder and with quicker pace, determined to make him cum.
“Fuckkkkk, don’t stop” Jermajesty’s voice was strained, his eyes closed as he was at the brink of release. Your skilled mouth and the erotic sight of you looking at him as you sucked him off pushed him to the edge.
He cried out, the orgasm hitting him like a fast train passing by, holding your head in place, grinding into your face as he came in your mouth, down your throat, his cock pulsing and twitching before he removed his hand from your head and leaned his head back on the headrest, his eyes rolling as a string of curses left his mouth while you milked him dry.
You slowly pulled your mouth off of his cock, sitting up as you swallowed, licking around your lips and wiping your mouth.
“Holy shit..I ain’t got a head like this in a long while” Jermajesty said, turning to look at you, eyes slightly reddened from the weed and the aftermath. “Since you were so generous, lemme return the favour, doll”
“Mhm but you ain’t have to-“ “Backseat. Now” Jermajesty said as his eyes wandered down your body, biting his bottom lip and you immediately obeyed, feeling a slap against your asscheeks.
“off with ‘em” He said pointing towards your clothes and of course once again, you obeyed. Slowly you took your top off then reached behind to unhook your bra before putting it aside.
Jermajesty watched you strip, jaw tightening as he watched you strip. He didn’t say anything for a second, eyes not moving from your body and every movement you made.
When everything was off, he climbed out of the car, closing the door, before getting into the backseat as your back was now on the car door and your legs spread. “Like what you see?” You asked as you reached down, slowly circling your clit with your fingers, moaning softly.
“Yeah, I’m definitely liking what I see.” He reached out, his large hands gripping your hips firmly, his thumbs digging into your skin as he pulled you closer to the edge of the seat. He leaned down, his face inches from yours, the scent of weed and musk clinging to his skin. He reached down, removing your fingers from your clit as he replaced it with his fingers, rubbing your folds and then removed them, leaning down as he held your legs open and didn’t hesitate to bury his face between your thighs.
Jermajesty let out a sharp inhale, taking in your scent before his tongue flicked out, tasting the slick coating your folds.
“Already so soaking wet, hm?” He murmured against your skin before he swirled his tongue around your clit and then sucking it while his hand moved up, his fingers spreading your folds wider.
He used his hands to pull your legs even wider, pinning your knees back against the seat cushions so he could get a better angle. “I can taste how much you want this,” he mumbled against your skin, his breath hot before he sucked firmly and his tongue flicking against your pussy.
A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your back slight arching off the leather seat. “O-oh, shiiit” you cried out as you held into his short curls and holding him in place.
The wet sounds of him eating you out filled the car as he ate you out like he didn’t have a proper meal in days. Each tongue stroke sent shivers through your body. He pulled off, sitting up as he licked his lips. You whined at the loss of contact but it soon turned into a moan when he pushed your knees further down to your chest, folding you nearly in half, stroking his cock that was still out and rubbing it all over your folds.
With a grin, Jermajesty lined himself up, the tip of his cock nudging at your entrance. He teased you for a moment, rubbing the tip through your slick folds and coating himself in your juices. “Beg for it. Let me hear how badly you need this dick.”
You whined as you begged shamelessly. “P-please, Maj..put it in” your hips bucking for friction as his tip rubbed up and down your folds.
The desperation in your voice made him give him as he pushed forward, his cock stretching you open as you gripped into the seat, closing your eyes and moaning.
He gave you a moment to adjust, his hands moving to put your legs in his shoulders to reach deeper into you. “Fuck..hold on” He said as he panted when you clenched around him.
His hips snapped forward, driving into you deeper, the car slightly rocking and the windows immediately fogging up. “This what you wanted, huh? To get split open on my dick?” Jermajesty panted harshly, sweat forming on his brow from the exertion. He angled his hips to hit that special spot inside you with every deep stroke.
“Y-yes, fuck yes” You whimpered, your back arching off the leather seat that clung to your sweaty skin, drool leaking from the corner of your open mouth, eyes rolling back as he set a faster pace, hitting that special spot that made you see stars.
Jermajesty moved your legs in a different position, putting each one on his shoulders, the new position allowing him to make eye contact with you, his hand wrapping around your throat, applying enough pressure to make you lightheaded.
Your pussy clenched around his dick, growing tighter and wetter as the juices were already coating around and your climax approaching rather fast. “M-maj, don’t stop please done stop” you choked out, tears rolling down and voice muffled as he added more pressure to your throat before releasing it and then leaning down to kiss you.
Jermajesty moaned against the kiss as his thrusts became erratic, his own release approaching fast once again. Your whole body tensed, your abdomen tightened as the tension in your core finally snapped and your orgasm crashing down on you, very intense.
“Where do you want me to cum?” He asked as he panted and you moaned. “I’m on the pills”
He buried himself, taking root inside of you, his cock pulsing as he came deep inside, painting your insides with cum. “Fuckkkk” He said leaning forward, burying his face into the crook of your neck while his body above you shuddered, grinding against you to draw out the climax.
As the intensity ended, Jermajesty pulled his softening cock out, combined fluids dripping down to your thighs. He sat back, breathing as he admired the sight of you.
“Look at this mess we made though. You look good like this, all fucked out and pretty” He said already exhausted before he reached forward to roll the windows down a little to air out the fogged up windows, sweat, sex and weed air at once.
“So…do I still gotta pay?” You asked grabbing your clothes to wear while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his pants.
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."
