golden hour • the period of daytime shortly after sunrise or before sunset, during which daylight is redder and softer than when the sun is higher in the sky
SUMMARY | In which you’ve fallen in love with the one person who can’t afford to be selfish, but neither of you seem to care.
PAIRING | mark lee x reader
CATEGORY | prince!mark, healer!reader, angst
WORD COUNT | 7.5k
WARNINGS | sickness, mentions of death
SONG REC | Pretty Face - Sóley
It started, as most stories do, with a song. A golden sunset, filtering through the small framed windows, turning the cobblestone floor of the stone castle a jaded orange. The spring air smelled of flowers and pollen, the scent of herbs from the castle garden lingering on the fabric of your clothes. You were only eleven, wandering through the castle in your servant’s dress, the hem dragging at your ankles.
i read this fan fiction back in 2019. i was inconsolable for days. it ruined me in the best ways possible. it affected my brain chemistry. i have searched for this fabrication for a long time and am glad i found it again. a day hasn’t passed where i haven’t thought of this fic. thank you 💞.
Pairing(s): Jermajesty x f!Reader, Brief Jaafar x Reader
Genre: SMUT!!(MDNI), Enemies to lovers,, some angst, fluff.
Warnings: AGAIN SMUT!! (MDNI), Jaafar is single in this one baes. Jermajesty is older (reader is only a year younger.) Toxic!Jermajesty, Mean!Jermajesty(cruel really), Fireworks used as weapons. Jermajesty is obsessed in the worst way, he's lowkey a creep, lowkey though. Vomit. Brief Jaafar x Reader (I do mean brief, jermajesty don’t play that.) Fingering, Choking, Arguing, Jermajesty has a big dick! P in V, No protection (Wrap it before you tap it, loves). Exhibitionism (He ain’t coming off you for nothin’ sista). squirting. Spit as lube. Spit kink. Just filthy really.
Summary: Since diapers, Jermajesty has been the bane of your existence. Always picking at insecurities, making jokes at your expense, and finding ways to turn everything into a competition. Peace doesn’t walk in the room when you two do. In fact, she passes the reigns to chaos, and leaves all together. Playing this game of back and forth has grown tiring, so you decide it’s time to shift focus. Jermajesty doesn’t like that one bit.
W.C. : 6.2k
Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m glad the snippet was well received! I have been sitting on this for a minute so I am happy to share. I really think is so cool, I am biased though Share what you think in the comments, reblog if you love it! Thank you for reading, my hearts! POV switches from third to second once we hit the present. NAWT proofread sista.
(Proofed and edited!)
The Archive
love, B 🤍
[Spring: May 2nd, 2004. Codename: The Beginning.]
Two little ones sit face to face post wrestling match, on an ornate rug in Havenhurst's living room. One breathes heavily, face red, marked with a scowl and a wobbly lip, the other grips a wooden block marked with the letter ‘B’ triumphantly.
The girl takes in a deep breath, tears well in her eyes, and she exhales with a cry that could wake even the sandman. At the sound of her cries, The young boy's face contorts to match her own. While testing her lung capacity, she attempts to retrieve the block one more time, only to be met with a sharp pain in her temple. The boy made quick work to remove himself from the line of fire as she,impossibly, screamed louder. She picks up her own block, ironically marked with a ‘J’, and launches it back with the same level of vitriol.
It doesn’t connect with the tyrant in the room, no, that would be too easy. Instead, it collides with her mother’s shin, who had rushed in to see what all the fuss was about. When asked why she had turned their toys into projectiles, the poor girl, consumed by hysteria, couldn't get a response out.
A small voice, that was not her own, cut through the air,
“She hit me!”
Before she knew it, three words without an ounce of truth to them, had landed her a sentence of fifteen minutes facing the wall.
This interaction, which may seem like ordinary toddler melodrama, marked the beginning of y/n’s longstanding beef with Jermajesty.
[Summer: July 4th, 2010. Codename: The Pop-its Incident]
The fourth of July is normally a wholesome, family oriented, event. Trademarked by barbecues, games, a dip in the pool, popsicles that will inevitably melt under the California sun, and at the end of the night, beautiful displays of pyrotechnics, some even handheld, that should not be in the vicinity of a deranged nine-year old.
Y/n found herself exhausted. Between the outdoor activity that, no doubt brought about an early onset fatigue, and the fact that the young girl had practically stuffed herself to the gills with overdone hotdogs, a burger, and perhaps one-too-many cupcakes, by the time the sun began to set, she was nearly immobile.
With a towel wrapped around her shoulders, and a slouch in her spine, she, tiredly, tries to settle down on a lawn chair nestled in a corner of the backyard, wanting nothing more from the day than to just watch the fireworks. Unfortunately for y/n, the boy who’s been plaguing all eight years of her life had other plans.
She sees him approach from a distance with a smile on his face and hands hidden from view. Looking back, that itself should have been enough of a warning. Still, she brushes it off with a roll of her eyes, sitting on the edge of the chair, with her hands on her knees and feet planted firmly on the warm pavement. By the time she looks up, he looms over her something behind his back.
“ Y/n,” he addresses. She raises a very skeptical brow, waiting to see what treachery would leave his mouth next. “Are you having fun?” Jermajesty asks, shifting on his feet. She could tell something was amiss, very rarely did he willingly speak to her, and whatever he had behind him did nothing to soothe her nerves. Tired and bordering on overwhelmed, with a squint, y/n huffs, “What do you want?”
Jermajesty feigns offense, brows furrowing as he takes a somber tone, “I can’t talk to you now?”
She scoffs, “When do you ever just talk? What, don’t feel like terrorizing me today?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Terrorize is a weird way to describe a few jokes,” he says with a wave of his, now visible hand.
Before she can start rattling off the instances where Jermajesty absolutely did terrorize her, he cuts in again, this time with a quiet mumble, “I seriously did want to check on you. Didn’t realize it was a crime.” Y/n knows better than to trust him, she swears she does. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the hurt expression painted on his face, but she felt her guard lower. Her eyebrows relax, and she almost feels bad for assuming the worst. Almost.
“My bad, Jermajesty. Yes I ha–” The words all but die on her tongue when she hears a decently loud ‘POP!’ and feels a warmth near her feet. There’s only about two seconds allowed for recognition. This asshole was sending pop-its careening toward her feet. Y/n tries to scale the lawn chair, but the slits in it send her feet right back into the cross-hairs.
“Jermajesty! Stop!” She screeches, practically dancing in the small area. He in fact, did not stop. It was almost like her terror was a motivator. The pop-its came faster, and she was terrified. If she wasn’t before, y/n was definitely overwhelmed now, and tears formed before she could stop them. Of course, her torturer noticed, “Aww, is the baby gonna cry?” He mocked, showing no sign of stopping his onslaught.
She wasn’t ‘gonna’ do anything, the tears were hot and very present. That wasn’t really y/n’s main concern though. Remember her overindulgence? It was coming back to bite her in the ass. In her defence, she didn’t foresee herself dodging mini explosives when she ate as much as she did.
The ambush only lasted around two minutes before Jermajesty’s father snapped his head in the direction of y/n’s cry for help, “Boy! Cut that out and go sit the hell down! What’s wrong with you?” The boy’s actions came to an immediate halt, knowing Jermaine's command outweighed his current amusement.
Y/n had never been more grateful for another human being in her, relatively short, life. Jermajesty let out an annoyed sigh, but ultimately retreated. As relieved as she was, the damage was already done, nausea had already begun sweeping over the girl. Her stomach churned, and with the swiftness of a fawn, y/n stumbled toward a trashcan. Unfortunately, luck was not on her side today, she made it about three steps forward before emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement.
Sounds of shock, displeasure, and pity ring throughout the backyard. Embarrassment and shame wrap her up into the world's most uncomfortable blanket as she continues to heave. She was sure now. She hates this fucker.
Janet, who y/n has considered her godsend ever since the time with the gum, jumps on the situation like a commander, “Jermaine! Go get the baking soda from the kitchen. Randy, get the poor girl a new towel please.”
They don't move, still baffled at what just took place. The woman lets out a tired sigh, and her voice raises a few decibels, “Now! Please!” Janet then turns her attention to poor y/n, who is now reduced to dry heaving over the concrete. “Honey, I’m so sorry. You’ll be alright, okay?”
Humiliation morphs into anger, and the disgruntled eight year old, nods absentmindedly. She isn’t really paying much attention to the reassurance though, too busy trying to get her body to understand that she can’t possibly throw her skeleton up too. All she can do in this moment is think of all the ways she could permanently remove that pest.
While brooding, a grating sound falls on her ears. That demon is laughing. Not just a chuckle, no no, he is doubled over, in almost the same position as her, wheezing. Jermajesty smacks his older brother’s arm, who also seems to find the girl’s misfortune entertaining.
Y/n rises slowly, eyes shooting daggers in their direction. As intimidating as she wants to look, the evidence of her misfortune laying at her feet, and a little remaining on her lips just made the girl appear pitiful. That only garnered harder laughs from the two bozos across the yard.
She opens her mouth, but it quickly closes as the reality sets in, she had effectively been made a fool of. Sure she could’ve expected this from Jermajesty, but seeing jaafar cackle alongside that fool really twisted the knife. Janet tells her to pay them no mind and ushers her off into the house to get cleaned up. Defeated yet again, y/n retreated with her head hung low, and tail tucked.
This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment, one where y/n decides she was done playing nice with Jermajesty.
[Winter: December 20th, 2015. Codename: Cancel Christmas]
Ah yes, the holly-jolly season. Hot-coca, stockings over the fireplace, and of course, incessantly violent bickering with Jermajesty. It always starts small with him. A disagreement about where candy canes should go, or who would be responsible for cleaning up the discarded tinsel. But alas, the hormones that accompany adolescence make these seemingly small problems, very big problems.
Y/n was irritable. Very, very irritable. As she developed through the years, so did her issues with her incredibly annoying counterpart. It didn’t help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with.
Curves filling out, making everything in her closet look like a poor choice, a newfound hatred for her reproductive system, acne that showed her what true stubbornness looked like, having to navigate the terrors of high school, and feelings she did not enjoy having. Since when is that vermin attractive? Y/n didn’t have an answer, and that pissed her off more.
Her irritation reaches new heights as her family heads toward the Jackson’s home. She felt in her bones that today was not going to be a good day. Y/n still hadn’t forgiven him for the shit he pulled on the fourth way back when. The only upside to her, was that she had forgiven his older brother, and was looking forward to stealing glances at him through the night.
Things were calm when she arrived. Stepping out of the car and making her way to the door, y/n thought about civility, and just how long it would last. The answer? Not very.
Jermajesty started it, he always starts it. A pointed comment about how y/n was drooling over Jaafar, while she worked on hanging the ornament she made in art class, a yearly tradition for her. His jab earns a few chuckles…and a sound that could only be described as disgust from the older of the two boys. Y/n was sure she would implode. She snapped her head in his direction with a grimace, “Shut up, no I’m not!” (She absolutely was)
Jermajesty scoffs, “Suree, what else are you gonna lie about?” He asked with a smug look gracing his features. The girl leans into her teenage rage, “I lie about liking you all the time, can’t you tell?” The boy’s face falls flat, “You think I like you? I tolerate you because my family insists on bringing you around.”
Y/n lets out a dry laugh, “I wish they didn’t, I can’t stand you. You have got to be one of the most infuriating people on the planet, not to mention, you’re a certified idiot. I hate that we even breathe the same air, so don’t worry about having to like me, Jermajesty.”
A beat of silence passes before the insults begin flying. He calls her stupid, she calls him ugly, he hits her with a ‘pizza face’ comment, and she delivers a devastating blow about how his ‘girlfriend’ has three other boyfriends.
In that moment, Jermajesty all but lost what little sense he did have, “You can’t talk! Didn’t the entire football team bend you over two weeks ago?”
Poor, poor y/n, she’s yet to figure out that in a battle of who can go lower, Jermajesty will always have her beat. It was an outright lie, one that caught the attention of everyone in the room.
“You two, ENOUGH!” Y/n’s father booms, he then shifts his gaze toward his daughter. Y/n immediately tries to save her ass, “Dad, he’s lying! I swear, I’ve never even–” she stops speaking when the older man raises his hand. “We will talk about this at home, grab your things, now.”
Begrudgingly, she follows directions, making sure to grab her charger, phone, and the ornament, All while Jermaine profusely apologizes to her father for his son’s behavior.
She throws one more glance in Jermajesty’s direction, fully expecting to see the same smirk that always rests on his face when he lands her in hot water. Instead, y/n finds something akin to remorse. Jermajesty opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it when she sticks one finger in the air. He rolls his eyes and returns the gesture with a mock smile.and leaves the home with her head held high
Attraction be damned, the long conversation she is going to be forced to endure in her family's living room snuffed out whatever she was feeling for that insolent brat.
For the first time in fourteen years, y/n hadn’t left the Jackson estate in tears. She did, however, leave with a bit of clarity.
Here marks the day y/n realized battling Jermajesty was always going to be a losing game.
[Fall: November 25th, 2021. Codename: Older Brothers]
It had been approximately a year and a half since y/n last saw the jacksons in person. With covid, and the lockdown put in place because of it, she hasn’t really seen much of anybody. During this time,y/n had grown into what some would describe as a walking wet dream, intentionally, of course. Body to die for, skin as clear as glass, and a charm that was hard to resist. She wasn’t naive to this either, nuh-uh, y/n knows she’s a bad bitch, and she plans to use that to her advantage.
Jaafar has become a new point of interest. At twenty, y/n knows exactly what her type is, and he checks every last box. She had already formulated a gameplan for this year's thanksgiving dinner. Hair styled to perfection, a manicure that cost a fortune, some little black dress that showed off every asset she’d gained, three spritzes of a very expensive perfume, and the sexiest pair of heels she could find.
When she crosses under the threshold into the home she had grown to miss, she hears a few gasps, and a devious smile forms on her face. This is good, very good. She greets the family one-by-one with a hug, making small conversation with some. Most of the attendees comment on how good she looks, shocked to see the new version of the young woman before them. She giggles, and thanks them, moving through the room with an effortless grace.
When her eyes land on her target, who is already gawking at her, her smile grows large enough to show a perfect set of pearly white teeth. Y/n has every intention of fucking Jaafar. However, in her lust driven pursuit, she forgot to account for her biggest obstacle. Jer-fucking-majesty, who seems to be making it his personal mission to deter her from her goal. Before she can get her arms wrapped around Jaafar, the nuisance before her slides in between them, disrupting the exchange of greetings. Her arms drop and frustration cascades across her face.
“Y/n, it’s been a while.” He states, looking down at her. She can’t help the way her eyes find the back of her head. “Yes, it has Jermajesty. As is to be expected when a pandemic occurs.” He chuckles, “Well, you look good. Real good.” That comment nearly short-circuts her brain. Did her arch-nemesis just compliment her? She waits for the punchline, the cruel follow-up that always comes with a statement like that from him.
When it doesn’t, and she realizes he’s serious, she steps back a bit. “I–, thank…you.” She says slow, still skeptical. He nods once, but refuses to move. Y/n grows impatient, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of greeting Jaafar.” She mumbles. Jermajesty’s brows furrow, “Everybody else got a hug, I can’t?” She folds her lips together, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. She settles on a quick side-hug. “There, now can you move?”
He kisses his teeth, and steps to the side. He watches how the girl he spent so much time driving up a wall practically melts into his brother’s arms. He notices how far you went to get Jaafar to notice. He notices how his brother inhales deeply, how his hands slide dangerously low on y/n’s waistline, how you didn’t correct his brother’s grip, and most importantly, he can’t help but notice that all he got was a fucking side-hug.
Why does he even care? It’s not like you mean anything to him, right. Wrong, very wrong. Jermajesty is pissed. He’s spent so much time making you look unappealing, publicly commenting on every imperfection, spreading rumors to keep everyone away, intentionally ruining dates and relationships, oh and most notably, since December of ‘15, convincing his brother that he should want nothing to do with you. All in the name of love of course, you didn’t know that. You didn’t need to know that. He made sure that the girl he’s been infatuated with since the age of four, didn’t have a clue about the strings he pulled in the background.
Jermajesty knew what he was about to do was wrong, but in his beautifully twisted mind, it would be justified. While the girl, his girl, revels in the affection she’s receiving from his older brother, he grabs a cup resting on the dinner table. She was so blissfully unaware, cute.
The chilled champagne runs down y/n’s back, and serves as a stark reminder to never trust the man standing right behind her. She whips around so fast she nearly falls. With vitriol running through her veins, yet again, she slaps Jermajesty so hard her hand stings. His head is turned, and his hand comes up to his cheek, “What. The. Fuck, is your problem? Huh? Do you ever stop? I mean seriously, I can’t fucking st–” He wears a smile and nods as she rants on and on about how she hates him and can’t stand him, and wishes they never met.
Jermajesty lets her go on for another minute or two before he grabs her wrist and drags her through the house and out the door. Despite her best effort, his grip is firm,she can’t do much but stumble behind him, and let the expletives fall from her lips in protest.
Once the cool air wraps around them, Jermajesty spins to face her, still holding on. He leans in close, whatever y/n had planned to say next evaporated from her mind. His eyes are dark, and his face is devoid of any amusement. It quickly registers in the young lady’s mind that Jermajesty means business. She remains silent, real intimidation settles over her as she waits for him to say something.
Jermajesty then moves his lips to her ear, “If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll show you how cruel I can really be. Stay away from Jaafar, last warning.” Y/n stood there frozen, jermajesty releases his grip on the girl, walking past her, and heading back toward the house. She was utterly baffled, and admittedly pissed because, who was he to tell her who she could and couldn’t interact with. Still,even with the cold champagne that has now ruined her dress, y/n couldn’t ignore the warmth that settled deep in her belly. As she stood there processing, she came to a conclusion.
This year's Thanksgiving marks the day that the girl, who entered a feud with humanity's biggest terror all those years ago, realizes the attraction she thought she snuffed out wasn’t dead. Just buried.
[Summer: July 25th 2026. Codename: Quit Playin’ With Me]
Admittedly, you knew what you were doing. Jermajesty hadn’t made much of a move since Thanksgiving, five fucking years ago. Yeah the fights had morphed into an aggressive sort of flirting, that began to serve more as foreplay. And sure, everytime you showed interest in another man Jermajesty had more than enough to say about it, but aside from that, you hadn’t made much progress. So, you figured he needed a little push. What better place to make that happen than at Jaafar’s birthday party?
In all honesty, you wanted to know if Jermajesty would make good on his promise. It was a fifty-fifty gamble with him though, you were either going to leave very satisfied, or teary-eyed, or both. Still, it was a risk you were more than willing to take at this point.
You waltz into the familiar backyard, body clad in a swimsuit that was essentially string, smelling good, and looking better. This time though, it wasn’t for anyone’s attention but his. You made a bee-line for Jaafar, greeting as many as you could in the process. When you reached him, a smile spread across his face. He sat there, on a pool chair, in all his glory, in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, and sunglasses. “Look at you, when’d you get so fine mama?” Though you weren’t here for him, it didn’t hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.
You cracked a grin, “Been that, baby.” He chuckled, and opened his arms up for you. The scenario felt familiar, except this time, when you leaned in, there was no Jermajesty. Jaafar wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you down into his lap with a quickness that startled you. He nuzzled his face into your neck and spoke, soft and gentle, “So, how you been? Haven’t had time to catch up since we first started filming.”
You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your body, “Been fine, same-old, same-old. Heard the movies doing well, hot-shot. As it should, by the way, you did amazing. Your uncle would be proud.” Jaafar gives your waist a small squeeze, “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you, y/n.” You opened your mouth to assure that it’s the truth, but before you can, a shadow is cast over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you sit up a little straighter.
His appearance matches his brother’s, except for the sunglasses, he wants to make sure you look him in the eye. His voice is chillingly calm, as he glares down at you, “Get up.” You shift a little on Jaafar’s lap. The older brother speaks first, “She doesn’t have to move, if you don’t like it go inside, or away.” Jermajesty doesn’t spare so much as a sideways glance toward Jaafar, eyes still trained on yours with a hard stare, “You have two fucking seconds to get the fuck off his lap.”
With that, your brain finally catches up, and you stand embarrassingly fast. Jermajesty doesn’t miss a beat, and begins walking toward the entrance of the home “Bring your ass in the house, now.” You throw Jaafar an apologetic glance, and quickly trail his brother. Jermajesty moves through the house with an aura of danger surrounding him. If you weren’t so giddy, you might’ve been a little scared for what was to come.
When you reach his bedroom door, he holds it open for you, looking at you expectantly. Slowly, you walk in, stopping just inside the door, unsure of what to do next. He slips in behind you, the door shuts. You turn your head to see his hand resting on the handle. He takes a deep breath,
“Before I do, what I’m about to do, you need to let me know if you want this as bad as I do.” He says, tone measured, controlled, just as chilling as it was before. You nod twice, and he shakes his head, “Words. Y/n. Use them.” You let out a shaky breath, “Yes, I want–”
The rest of the sentence dies on your tongue as a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing enough to make a point, but not enough to cause any harm. Your back meets the door behind you, and a gasp attempts to leave your body. Jermajesty catches your lips in a searing, possessive kiss, all teeth, and tongue with little room left to breathe. You all but melt right there, he breaks the kiss, leaving a string of spit connecting the two of you, and a pout forms on your lips.
“You just don’t listen, do you baby? Hm?” You looked up at Jermajesty, pupils blown. His hand, serving as the prettiest necklace you’ve ever owned, shifts into a firm grip under your jaw, he leans in, lips brushing your ear. The already damp spot formed on the fabric nestled between your legs starts to grow, “You just had to keep pushing. I told you what would happen, and look, you did it anyway, didn’t you?”
You try to nod, but he holds you steady, “Come on, baby. Answer me,” When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, “Mm, there you go again. Not listening,” Jermajesty shakes his head as he tuts with a wicked smile. He loosens his grip just a bit. Soft kisses begin at the back of your ear, and make their way down to a spot on your neck that pulls a soft whine from your lips. A deep chuckle leaves the man towering over you, “That’s right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?”
The hand around your throat slips further down, fingers ghosting over the hardened buds beneath your swim-top. Gently, he toys with the thin fabric before his fingers move swiftly to undo the ties on your neck and back. The top falls and you stand there now, bare chested, dripping with excitement. With a deep inhale, Jermajesty begins to kiss down your sternum, cupping both breasts with his large hands. Slowly, he takes the left bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, just enough to tease, while he rolls the right between his index and thumb.
A sultry sound leaves your mouth, one that sounds like music to his ears. Jermajesty groans, and with a ‘pop’, removes himself from your chest. With his voice barely above a whisper, he makes you one more promise. “I’m gon’ show you who the fuck you belong to tonight.” The ruined bottoms do very little to hide just how badly you want that. His right hand glides down the length of your body, stopping just shy of the waistband.
Jermajesty searches your eyes for hesitancy one last time, when he doesn't find it, his fingers dip below the last barrier between the two of you. He swipes a finger up your slit, making you shudder, “So fucking wet,” he whispers, undoubtedly to himself. The pads of his fingers are rough, calloused, and add a delicious friction as his thumb finds your little bundle of nerves.
As he works it in painfully slow, steady circles, two fingers enter you, and a pornographic moan leaves your mouth, “Baby please,” you beg, as he continues to tease, pumping them slowly. He chuckles, “Oh? m’baby now? I thought I was a piece of shit you couldn’t stand.” The huff you let out tells him he has you right where he wants you. He curls his fingers and just brushes past that spongy spot, your frustrated whine rings out in the air. Jermajesty laughs softly, “This not enough for you baby?Didn't know you were so greedy.”
Annoyance began to seep into your bones. If he wanted to play so bad, then fine, “You’re taking too long, I can always ask Jaafar to handle this, you know?”
Jermajesty freezes, not long before he rips his hand away from your pussy, rises to his full height and grabs you by your waist. You let out a surprised squeak, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his torso as he hoists you up, and walks you toward the bed. He isn’t gentle as he tosses you onto it. Your body comes off of the mattress in a small bounce. Your eyes rake over the man standing above the bed, the tent in his trunks makes your eyes widen. Good, he wants you to watch. Jermajesty makes quick work of the shorts, tossing them off in some corner of his room.
Good god, you knew he was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. He’s neatly trimmed, there’s a small patch of hair at the base. The tip is a deep mauve, the shaft is a shade darker than the rest of him with a pronounced vein running all the way down, and just below rest two round heavy balls.
He wastes no time getting your bottoms off next, practically ripping the dainty little thing off of you. He tosses them, and looks back at your dripping core. Again, two of his fingers find a home deep in your pussy, only this time, Jermajesty isn’t so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans up, “Open your mouth.” You obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, “That’s it,” he picks up the pace, your hand shoots out to clutch his forearm in an attempt to slow him down and quell the fire quickly spreading through your body. “Move your hand,” he murmurs, while bullying your g-spot with precision. The sounds of your sopping pussy bounce off the walls, as he pushes you closer to release. “Please, Please, Jer…Please!”
You aren’t even sure what it is that you’re asking for, he has you dazed, drunk off the feel of him, and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. A cry leaves your lips, and you grip his arm tighter, “He can’t make you beg like this, pretty girl.” Tears form in your eyes as you just about tip over the edge, “Jer— oh fuck, Maj… gonna– cum!” Again, his fingers leave your core. The sudden denial leaves you frustrated beyond belief, a wail rips from your chest.
“What the fuck–”,
Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto all fours, and pressing you into a sinful arch. “Shut the fuck up.” He teases you some more, running his tip along your slit, and tapping your clit a few times. “You wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.”you arch a little deeper, “Mm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?”
That does it. In one swift movement, Jermajesty starts to fill you. The stretch stings so good, you both moan at the sensation. He gives a few shallow thrusts before his resolve snaps, and he bottoms out with a low groan. The tip of his fat dick kisses your cervix just right, it takes everything in you not to collapse. When he pulls back out, you hiss, the sensation feels addictive. He drives back into you, and begins to fuck you like a man starved. The pace he sets is punishing, you can’t do much but cry out, gripping the sheets as the same heat from before begins to pool in your belly. Jermajesty drills into that spongy spot over and over, the pleasure overwhelms you, your jolts forward involuntary. At the sight, his sweat covered brow furrows, he grips your waist with both hands, pulling you back onto him. A heavy hand cracks down on your ass twice,
“Don’t you dare fucking run. Take this shit, baby– fuck! Take. It.” Your eyes hit the back of your head, fisting the sheets so hard you were sure they’d rip, as he slams into you fervently.
The sound of skin clapping echoes in the room, his headboard hits the wall, matching his tempo. Jermasty lets out a moan that goes straight to your core.
“Shit—, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.” As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow. With your brain turned to mush, you finally give in, “It’s yours, Jermajesty— Fuck it’s yours!” You scream out. Though you can't see it, a toothy smile forms on your lover's face. While still inside you, he rolls over onto your side, “Say it again, baby, louder,” you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. “That’s right, this my pussy,” he says, bringing one of your legs over his hip. His hand found your clit once more, rubbing fast tight circles into the swollen nub.
As you approach ecstasy, the door slams open. Jaafar, stands there with a baffled expression.
“What the hell–”
You startle, brought out of your pleasure induced state by the sudden intrusion. Jermajesty doesn't stop his ministrations for a single second. Instead, his hand leaves your bundle of nerves and grips your jaw, making you face him.
“Cum on this dick and show him who you belong to, baby.” He brings his hand back down to your clit, doubling down. He fucks you harder, thrusts faster than before leave your head reeling even more than it already has been. Jermajesty draws new patterns on your clit, it takes you ten seconds to realize he’s spelling out his name. A foreign sensation racks through your body, “Jer, wait– I think I’m gonna pee! Slow– Fuck…Slow down!” He spells faster, bullies that spot just a few more times, licks the shell of your ear, and whispers, “Let me have it baby, prove to me that you’re mine.” Your eyes roll back, mouth forming into a perfect ‘O’ shape, before your release cascades down your thighs, and his, onto the bed.
He hears the door click shut, his brother curses his way back up the hall. Jermasty bites back a grin, knowing he's proved his point.
He pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. “Did so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.” His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned off for the night, and with you quickly approching overstimulation, the only thing you can offer the man who is balls deep, rearranging your guts are soft, nearly pathetic whimpers.
One last thrust has him cumming with a shout of your name. His hold on you tightening, as you milk him for everything he’s got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks.
When you two finally come down, he sits you up gently. Breathing labored, and very clearly blissed out, you look at him in your daze, “That was...so fucking good, Jer,” He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. “ –I can’t help but wonder though, what made you so…possessive? You never liked me before, what changed?” Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, “Y/n, baby. I’ve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if I seem 'possessive', had to prove you were mine though.”
You weren’t sure what answer you expected, but you knew it wasn't that. Though, when you think back, you can’t help but feel that you let him slide with the shit he’s pulled through the years for that very same reason.
“Hm, well I think I love you too, Jer. I would love to dwell on it, but I’m tired, sweaty, and I think we just permanently scarred your brother.” You rambled on.
The man rolled his eyes, “We can talk in the morning, ans Jaafar’ll be fine. We can shower together, and sleep after.” You couldn’t help yourself, “How well does ‘apology pussy’ go over with your brother?” Jermajesty’s face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena.
“Y/n, quit fucking playin’ with me.” Your laughs died down to a hum, “Okay, okay. You're sleeping on the side with the wet spot though!” Jermajesty kissed his teeth playfully, it was worth it.
i NEED more Marlon Jackson or Jackie Jackson one shots or blurbs or whatever because i’m going INSANE like im OVULATING so freaking bad please i need victory tour jackie and marlon so bad, two bad bitches at the same time 😽😽😽
i’m actually ripping my hair out of my scalp and about to rip my shirt off for both of them
and yk what? movie jermaine lowkey ate, he was fine too, i would lowkey (highkey) very much let him hit
⤷ Summary: Jermajesty, the younger brother of your best friend Jaafar, has since the day he laid eyes on you decided he was gonna have you. Younger and irresistible in his charm, he stops at nothing. You’ve always brushed it off, writing it off as a silly crush, well at least until Christmas of last year.
⤷ Warnings: possessiveness, lowkey cheating?(reader has a date), smut, fingering, piv, usage of pet names.
⋆.˚
The first time you met Jermajesty you had been twenty one, fresh into your friendship with his older brother and clueless as to how intense things could get with the younger Jackson. You honestly had no one but yourself to blame for that. Between stolen glances at family dinners and drunken nights filled with something entirely wrong, Jermajesty served as the constant reminder of the desires you refused to name.
Jaafar had been a blessing in disguise. He’d always ran in the same social circle as you, but there had never been a need for more than pleasantries as far as you were concerned. Two years ago, that had come to change. You had started dating his best friend, a relationship driven by naivety and entirely too much pressure. Even when the relationship eventually fizzled out, you and Jaafar stuck strong. There was a deep mutual understanding that had come to pass between the two of you, an aspect you lacked with majority of your friends.
He’d been someone you hadn’t seen coming, yet a safety net that you would do anything and everything to keep by your side. There was something about Jaafar that awoke the loud and cheery girl you’d tried to calm down for the better part of your life. It almost seemed like his life mission to make sure you had a great time, all the time. No amount of whining could get him to back down, especially from dragging you somewhere. It was on a day like this that you had met Jermajesty. Complaining the whole car ride about not wanting to go wherever Jaafar was dragging you to. Jaafar had graduated with a masters when it came to ignoring your whiny attitude by now.
The boy had paid you no mind when parking at his cousin’s apartment. Jaafar had to all but push you inside the threshold that day, after having a heated argument in the lobby that almost ended in blood. Jaafar went around introducing you, a big smile on his face as if you hadn’t just cussed him out a minute ago. There you stood, staring daggers at his brother and Jermajesty couldn’t have been more curious about you. That curiosity never dimmed and he’d been intrigued from the very moment he laid his eyes on you.
Over the next few months you saw more of Jermajesty. Whether it was at a family gathering Jaafar brought you with him for, or simply around. The two brothers were very close which meant wherever Jaafar was, Jermajesty wasn’t far behind. You honestly didn’t mind to begin with. Sure, he stared at you.. a lot. And yeah, the flirting was a constant, but none of it got to you. That was until the Jackson Christmas party last year.
Jermajesty had been eyeing you ever since you walked into his aunt’s house that evening. You had become more comfortable around his family over the months and didn’t feel the need for Jaafar to be around you at all times anymore. Jermajesty had been ecstatic, knowing he’d get you more alone this way. What the 20 year old had not anticipated was for you to bring someone else as your date. He’d been standing around the door waiting on your arrival like a fool when you walked in. The dress you wore was a beautiful burgundy color that cinched at your waist and hugged the figure Jermajesty had studied intensely over the year. The man you had brought along wasn’t anyone he knew, something that annoyed him even more.
‘’You know that guy?’’ He’d cornered Jaafar 30 minutes after what felt like the greatest betrayal of his life. Jermajesty was being dramatic. He had brought a different date to every family gathering this year, including his niece’s christening (he got a lot of shit for that one) So he knew he had no reason to feel the way he felt as he yet again found you leaning into your date, a rather big smile on your face. He had known you’d be here and therefore refused to bring the girl he was currently talking to. It had started a whole thing, and he was sure he was blocked, but there was no way he would bring a girl to inevitably cling to his arm the whole night. He might as well just have given up on having you all together. Now it was just a matter of getting that man he had quickly grown to hate, to get the fuck away from you.
Jaafar wasn’t entirely sure who his younger brother was talking about until he followed his line of sight. The big brother just kissed his teeth in annoyance. ‘’What have i told you about this obsession you got with-’’
‘’Man just tell me who he is.’’ The last thing Jermajesty needs is the lecture Jaafar gives him every time the two of them are around you. She’s older than you, she’s not that type of girl, she’s my best friend, she would never go for you. Poor Jaafar had been unaware of the fact that he was encouraging his brother into doing it more than warning him against it. It was after the first warning Jaafar had given him about you, a year ago that Jermajesty had vowed to prove everyone wrong. He would have you.
‘’Don’t really know him. Some guy she’s seeing.’’ Jaafar tells him shortly, figuring it’s best to keep the more important details to himself.
Jermajesty isn’t satisfied. ‘’Seeing? As in fucking?’’
Jaafar doesn’t even feel the need to respond to that. The way the man’s hands hadn’t left the curve of your back all night had been all the answer Jermajesty needed.
The rest of the evening had been filled with catching up and his aunties asking him invasive questions about his love life and settling down with someone. His mother had laughed at that. It was finally time for dinner and by the time Jermajesty had managed to free himself from the loving hands of his grandmother, both seats next to you had been taken. Jafaar had a large grin on his face from the seat beside you, watching as an irritated Jermajesty sat down next to Randy. To his luck, you were sat right across from him, blissfully unaware of the jealousy he felt.
One of his uncles who’s had way too much to drink, stands up for a toast. It consists of a multitude of ‘thank you’s’ and a few too many tears over the good food.
‘’So, Jamal,’’ Jermajesty’s mother starts, a way of cutting the drunk man off. She’s looking right at your date. Of course his name is Jamal, Jermajesty thought to himself. ‘’Y/n tells me you’re an entrepreneur.’’
Your date is quick to sit up straighter in his seat, nodding along to the words. ‘’Yes, ma’am.’’
‘’That's interesting,’’ Jermaine jumps into the conversation, always one to socialize. ‘’ What kinda work you do?’’
As Jamal jumps into a spiel about his work as a business owner and the sob story about how hard his life has been, Jermajesty looks to you for your reaction. And he immediately regrets it. You’re looking at Jamal like he was the most fascinating person you’d ever encountered. Jermajesty swears there are stars in your eyes, and for the first time since meeting you, he feels hopeless. Desperate, Jermajesty turns to his brother.
‘’I need you to take Jaafar out.’’
Randy looks at his younger brother as if he’s gone crazy. ‘’The fuck are you talking about?’’
“Take him outside for a min.” Jermajesty huffs annoyedly. ‘’I just need you to do me this one favour, okay?’’
The way Jermajesty says it makes it clear he’s not stopping til he gets what he wants out of his older brother. Being the youngest in the family for the majority of his life had made him insufferable in many ways. Randy knew better than to argue, and slumped down in his seat, defeated.
‘’10 minutes, man. That’s all I'm giving your ass.’’ Randy unlocks his phone and pulls up Jaafars contact.
‘’That’s all I need.’’
Jermajesty watches as Randy shoots him a short message that reads: ‘need your help with something private’
Jaafar reads the message unaware of Jermajesty’s involvement in this, and mouths ‘right now?’’ Randy nods convincingly and points outside. The two of them excuse themself from the table and Jermajesty watches in satisfaction as his brother gets up from the seat next to you. The first time you pay attention to Jermajesty is when he not- so- sneakily slides into the seat Jaafar had just sat in. You were so invested in the conversation around you date you hadn’t even noticed Jaafar getting up.
You lean into an all too happy Jermajesty. ‘’Where’d Jaafar go?’’
He points behind him with little care mainly focused on the way you’re actually paying attention to him, thank God. ‘’Had to go sort some shit out with Randy.’’ You nod in response about to tune back into the conversation when Jermajesty’s arm rests on the back of your seat.
‘’You been busy tonight?’’ He’s sitting entirely too close, and you know you should probably call him out for it. But there’s something so harmless with the way he flirts with you that you don’t even realise how it might be perceived. Especially by your date.
‘’What, I haven't been giving you enough attention?’’ You tease him, and Jermajesty feels like doing jumping jacks on the dinner table. All he needed was for Jaafar to be away, and your date to be distracted for you to finally be yourself again.
‘’Haven’t even as much as looked at me, all night.’’ He dramatically pouts. ‘’You know what that does to me, ma.’’
As much as you hate admitting it, Jermajesty’s endless flirting has become something to look forward to when coming to these gatherings. The way he openly expresses his infatuation with you is something you’ve never experienced with other men. Even after countless times of you shutting it down, he’s still as persistent. Jaafar had told you countless times to just ignore him and that he’d get over you once he realised he’d never have you, just like he did with every other girl.
Problem was, you couldn’t ignore him and Jermajesty couldn’t leave you alone. It was this continuous cycle of Jermajesty finding any way to get to you, and you shutting him down just as he’s about to succeed. There had been moments where you’d pondered over how bad giving him one tiny chance would be. The mere thought of how it could affect your friendship with Jaafar stops you from taking it any further though. As fun as this back and forth with Jermajesty was, it would never be worth losing Jaafar over. Even so, you can’t help but engage. Encourage it even.
You roll your eyes at him, but Jermajesty’s not unaware of the smile on your lips as you do. ‘’ Boy behave.’’ Is all you tell him before finally turning away from him.
Jermajesty doesn’t lose the grin on his face when Jaafar comes back, a look of annoyance on his face. Even when he has to go back to his original seat, Jermajesty still feels rather satisfied. He’s got you right where he wants you.
Looking back on the Christmas party now, you’re not entirely sure where things progressed so violently from there. Dinner came to a slow end, the lively chatter never dying out. Bottles of liquor made their way down the table and while you weren’t really a drinker, you indulged in a couple glasses of wine tonight. You found the feeling of wine settling in your stomach much more pleasant than being completely wasted.
You weren’t sure what had come over you, the alcohol you tried telling yourself, but you couldn’t pry your eyes of Jermajesty for some reason. He looked much more relaxed now in comparison to a few hours ago. He’d had a couple glasses himself, and had shed the suit jacket off in a conversation with his sister. For the first time tonight he wasn’t intently focusing on you, something you’d stopped paying attention to a long time ago. Instead he had loosened up way more, actually enjoying the holidays with his family.
It was ironic really. The way you didn’t pay him any mind when he sought your affection so openly, yet couldn’t help but search for it the second it disappeared. You were in your thoughts entirely, not listening to a word Jamal was telling you when a phone ringing caught your attention. Jermajesty looked at the contact for a second, a small yet noticeable smirk on his lips. He quickly tells Randy something before hurrying off to take the phone.
You didn’t have to ponder for long. ‘’Girlfriend or something.’’ Randy explained when his mother turned a sharp eye towards him. She scoffed at his words, knowing Jermajesty couldn’t keep a girl to save his sweet life.
For some reason, you felt your stomach sinking. You knew of Jermajesty’s habits, having been witness to Jaafar’s many rants about his ‘’disgusting ways’ He went through women like second nature, you were painfully aware of this. Him choosing a christmas dinner of all places to display that shouldn’t have come as a shock to you the way it did.
‘’I’m guessing it’s a new one.’’ Their oldest aunt shakes her head, always the one to call him out.
‘’ Wouldn’t be Jermajesty if it wasn’t.’’ Jaafar joked, not really caring much for his brother’s transgressions. And here you were besides him, feeling bile rise up your throat. It was the alcohol. It wasn’t agreeing with you tonight.
‘’I don’t feel so good,’’ you say looking regretfully at Jamal. He looks concerned, his arm coming to rest behind you. It makes you even more disgusted if possible. ‘’I probably shouldn’t have drank that much.’’
You don’t let him say much before you’re on your feet, one mission in mind: getting some space. As much as you wanted to follow Jermajesty and eavesdrop on his conversation, it was a web of emotions you weren’t willing to go through again.The guest bedroom is the only place you can think of.
What you least expect to find there is Jermajesty shouting into his phone. ‘’Bruh i aint doing this shit with you. Be mad, see if i care.’’
The second you catch eye contact, you’re quick to apologize. ‘’I’m so sorry, i’ll leave-’’
‘’Now who the fuck is that, J.’’ It seemed like apologizing wasn’t the right thing to do. Instead the sound of your voice had the girl on the phone exploding. ‘’I thought it was a family thing, why you got hoes there?’’
Without even meaning to you let out a little gasp, completely taken back. Jermajesty doesn’t seem surprised, but rolls his eyes. ‘’Fuck that. Don’t ever contact me again.’’ He hangs up.
‘’I’m sorry, I didn't mean to just barge in like that.’’ You stand awkwardly next to the door, wondering if you should go. ‘’Or do that.’’
He’s not sure what you mean until you point at his phone. ‘’Ahh’’ he nods, ‘’She had to go. Can’t have her thinking she can talk to you crazy.’’
He pockets his phone and you’re not sure how to respond to that. What you do know is that the feeling sitting low in your stomach intensifies at his words.
You take a seat on the bed and Jermajesty follows, his actions almost natural. A quiet groan escaped you, and you can’t help but put your face in your hands. You feel stupid, very so. How he so easily gets to you with those charming remarks is something you will never understand.
“Why?” You say out loud.
“Why, what?” Jermajesty questions from besides you. His hand comes to graze the side of your face. It makes your train of thought falter immediately.
“This” you take a hold of his hand going to pry it off your face, but instead Jermajesty grabs a hold of it fully. Enclosing his hand around yours, he looks up at you.
“Go ahead and explain what you mean.”
“I just don’t understand why you…” another good question is how to phrase the question. These are uncharted territory. You’d always kept him at an arms length, close enough for it to mean something but far enough to act like it didn’t. Having to sit here and lay it all out bare and into the open had you feeling sick.
You rip your hand out his and stand up. Fixing your dress, you try to act as if you don’t have a thousand words you want to get out. Instead you settle for something easy. Diversion. “Either way don’t you have a girlfriend?”
Jermajesty doesn’t make it easy, not when he reads you so well. “Go ahead switch the subject, it only tells me what I already know.”
“And that is?” You shoot back, bordering on anger now. Jermajesty stands up too, coming to stand in front of you, seemingly not a care in the world.
“That you.” He points at your chest. “Want this as much as i do.”
You still, immediately trying to save face. “That’s not true.” Your words sound equally as weak as they feel when you say them.
Jermajesty doesn’t seem derailed at your poor attempt at a rejection. He’s as close as he was to you at the dinner table. And while that interaction was nothing more than something to entertain yourself with, this was entirely different.
He takes a hold of your jaw, tilting your face backwards. You hate how easily you let him move your body to his liking. There’s something so attractive about him standing there, white button up crinkled at the edges, and the grey slacks you’d loved the moment you saw him hugging his frame.
“So you don’t want this?” He asks, moving his fingers to slightly caress your bottom lip. There’s no way you’re coming back from this now. Jermajesty is standing there in all his glory, and there’s no way you can deny him.
A little sound is all he gets. “No, you don’t want this, right?” His finger moves into your mouth. You eagerly open your mouth wider, something that makes him chuckle. “Tell me you don’t want this, I swear I’ll never bother you again, ma. You got my word.”
Instead of answering, you wrap your tongue around his large digit, the action speaking for itself. Jermajesty sinks his teeth into his bottom lip at the sight of his finger sinking into your mouth. He can’t wait anymore and uses the hand at the back of your head to push you against him.
Your lips meet in a clash of teeth, and a dance of tongues. It’s chaotic, but nothing short of amazing. Kissing you has been something Jermajesty’s always had in the back of his mind. How he’d explore the depths of your mouth with his tongue, biting and sucking at your lips till they’re swollen.
What he hadn’t anticipated was your eagerness when kissing him back. Your own hands come to grasp at his shirt, needing something firm to keep you grounded. The way he kisses you, the uttermost passion put into it, leaves you hazy.
He backs up onto the bed while still not breaking the heated kiss. You follow, legs automatically coming to straddle his seated form. A grunt escapes Jermajesty’s lips as your heat comes in contact with the growing bulge in his pants.
“Fuck.” He groans. Entirely too happy with yourself, you start moving. You drag your body up and down over him, his hands falling to your hips. The friction is delicious yet not nearly enough.
Jermajesty takes a hold of your hips and switches your position. You’re laid on the bed, legs spread and with him in between them. Unaware where the sudden need to feel him comes from, you whine. “I need…” is all you get out before his fingers, now two, sink into your mouth.
“Suck.” Is all he needs to say for you to once again wrap your tongue around his fingers. He takes them out , the only evidence being the trail of spit hanging between your mouth and his fingers.
It’s in this cloud of desire all thoughts of your date, Jaafar and everyone but Jermajesty disappears. His fingers are teasing your entrance, and you know now you’re entirely lost.
“Gonna fill you up so nicely, huh.” He rubs along your slit, a shuddering breath leaving your mouth at the action. “You gon take it? Like the good girl you are.”
His fingers are barely moving against your heat when you moan. He knows exactly what and how to say everything, and you’re slowly loosing your mind.
When he finally eases a finger into you, you’re sure your eyes have rolled all the way back into your head. His finger long and thick is doing more than your frail fingers ever have. You praise him for getting his practice in, cause the way he moves with the confidence of a pro has you shaking under him.
He finds your clit with his other finger, rubbing meaningless patterns. That is what you think at least. “Whose pussy this is?”
You moan at the vulgar words and it is then you realise he’s spelling his name on it. “Fuck, Jer, yours. Don’t stop!”
He smirks against your lips, licking his way into your mouth. This kiss is less chaotic and much more intense. You moan into his mouth when his finger reaches that spongy spot inside you that has you leaning back in ecstasy.
Jermajesty trails his kisses down your neck and into the valley of your breasts. He nips at the skin and then quickly soothes it with soft kisses. You feel the intense sensation of your orgasm building up. “I’m gonna-“
“I know, ma. Let go for me.” Even as you come down from your orgasm, Jermajesty doesn’t stop moving his fingers.
The overstimulation was too much to bare, yet there was nothing more you wished than for him to bury himself inside you. Your hands move down to his belt buckle, and a soft chuckle escapes Jermajesty at your eagerness.
“I got you.” He goes to stop you, but you shake your head in disapproval.
“Let me do it.” You tell him, working the button of his slacks. Soon enough you slide your hand inside his tight boxers, taking a hold of him.
Jermajesty shudders against you at the feeling, and you start slowly stroking your hand up and down with it still tucked into his boxers.
“I need to be inside you, ma.” He whispers into your ear. “Can’t take it anymore.”
You help him undress enough for his cock to spring free. The sight of him is something entirely different to feeling it and you bite your lip in anticipation.
Jermajesty pumps himself a couple times, too eager to feel you around him. His tip nudging at your entrance awakens something primal inside you, and you’re quick to wrap your legs around his hips.
The stretch is immediate, and while it takes some getting used to, it feels amazing when he bottoms out. His first few thrusts are shallow, with him adjusting your legs around his body. When he’s adjusted you to his liking, he sets a punishing pace he keeps.
There’s no feeling that can match what you’re feeling, and how loud you’re being right now is saying everything you aren’t.
“Fuck, you’re taking me so good.” Jermajesty eyes are glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your pussy every few seconds. You don’t say anything, instead leaning up to connect your lips.
Something about the way he’s lazily kissing you while keeping his rough thrusts turns you on even more. Jermajesty bends your leg over his shoulder and you moan the loudest you have tonight.
“Fuck, yeah, right there.”
Your orgasm doesn’t take long to approach, already overstimulated from the first one. As if Jermajesty can tell, he nods. Picking up his pace, taking you there faster.
Your eyes roll all the way back, and you arch into Jermajesty. He has to physically hold you down as your orgasm washes over you for a second time tonight. He’s not far behind you, strokes still not faltering.
Jermajesty comes with a loud groan, his body shuddering over yours. In post sex bliss you rake your hands affectionately through his hair. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck where he lays for a couple minutes. At last, Jermajesty leans back to take a look at you. What he says doesn’t surprise you in the slightest; but instead serves as a reminder of how much you’ve fucked up.
Request ReaderxJermajesty | established relationship | They’re out somewhere and there’s this other woman that’s heavily flirting with Jermajesty, throwing herself at him, touching on him, just testing her limits and he’s entertaining it which makes reader jealous like silent treatment, brat attitude jealous. He gets her home and PUTS HER THROUGH THE MATTRESS letting her know she ain’t gotta worry about no other female.
MY ONLY WOMAN.
— brat tamer!jermajesty, silent treatment, slight daddy kink, spanking, choking, ‘attitude adjustment’ basically, pet names (mama, baby)
authors note: i hope you like this anon !
the lights of the club shined down onto the dance floor, showing the moving bodies that grind and whine against each other, the night was supposed to be fun and majestic.
but it wasn’t.
you watched as Jermajesty, your boyfriend, your man, talk to a girl from the bar. he was being kind obviously but the woman? not so much.
she kept rubbing his hand whenever it rested on the table, her eyes scanning him up and down. your hand around your champagne glass tightens.
you huff and swallow the last drops before storming off into the crowd.
——
Jermajesty had a feeling something was wrong. You, his usually clingy and affectionate girlfriend, was avoiding him like the plague while shooting glares his way.
it was pissing him off.
the moment the lights start to dim and the energy dies now, hes by your side in seconds dragging you towards the exit quickly.
the car door slams and he leans against the car seat, his finger tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel. “Whats up with you?” he asks, turning his head in your direction. “ignoring me all night and shit, Why?”
you scoff and cross your arms across your chest. “Why do you care? you didn’t seem to want to talk ta me anyway.” your lips jut out in an angry pout.
his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “You serious? thats why your mad? Cmon, baby.” he sighs and shakes his head.
you ignore him.
“Look at me.”
you don’t.
his annoyance is obvious as he sucks his teeth and starts the car, pressing his foot on the gas. “aight, don’t talk then.”
——
the front door opens and you stride inside, jermajesty following behind you at a leisurely pace. but when you try to head for the bathroom, he stops you. “Go in the bedroom.”
you scoff, opening your mouth to object when his large hand wraps around your throat. “i said go to the bedroom.”
he release you and you stumble a bit before turning and going to the bedroom.
you settle onto the bed, slightly jittering with nerves and a bit of anticipation. the door opens and he walks in, shutting the door behind him.
“So? why you mad?” he shrugs off his suit jacket, tossing it on the dresser.
“you were talking to that girl! you didn’t even push her away or.. or anything.” you mumble, the anger returning at the memory.
he approaches you and unbuckles his belt. “i only have one woman i want, and its you, a woman could be all over me and id still have all my attention on you.”
your cheeks heat but you keep silent, arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Bend over.” he commands, shocking you. “What..?”
“I didn’t stutter.” the stern tone of his voice has you slowly turning on your stomach and arching your ass up.
his hand palms your ass before he lifts up your dress, exposing your center. “No panties, what a dirty girl.” he chuckles.
the sound of his zipper makes your body buzz with excitement, your ass wiggling eagerly. “stay still, mama, ill give you what you want.”
you moan when the warm feeling of his tip slides up and down your soaking cunt, then slowly sinking inside. “Shit.. baby.” he doesn’t let you adjust as he starts to thrust, fingers digging into the meat of your hips.
“fuck! Jer… oh fuck..” your whimpers are muffled by your face being buried into the bed, your hands gripping the cool sheets. “Yeah baby? feels good? fuck.. yeah, take this dick mama.”
his pace quickens, the sound of skin against skin echoes in the bedroom, the smell of sex permeates the air.
“M’ close..” you cry out, and he hums. “Tell daddy whos girl you are. who do i love baby?” his hand strikes against your ass cheek. “Yours! you love me daddy…” you moan.
“Mhm.. just you, you’re my only woman mama. now come, come for me baby.” he pants, thrusts growing stuttered as his own release approaches.
you whine as your orgasm crashes into you just as he groans.
Bf!Jermajesty who is a pain in the ass to wake up in the mornings. It’s already 11 am and you’re running around stressing. Jermajesty lays half naked, half conscious in bed. It doesn’t help that his family is downstairs waiting either.
“Jermajesty!” You call for the fifth time. “Will you please get up.”
He’s babbling nonsense when you come to the conclusion that this sweet shit wasn’t going to work with him. The next five minutes, you spend dragging him out of bed and around the room.
“Chill, I’m right behind you.” He grunts when you snap your head back to make sure he’s following you downstairs.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t keep his hands to himself to save his life. One thing about Jermajesty was that he lacked the filter you so wished he’d at least pretend to have. The two of you would be at the beach with his family and his hands would not leave the curve of your ass. No matter how many times you pried it off, quietly cussing him out, it would inevitably end up there again. Not that his family really paid the two of you much attention, it had been a long time since Jermajesty’s actions had stopped shocking them. Now, you laid on the sunbed with shades covering your eyes, when you felt his hands slide under your bikini and start kneading the soft flesh of your ass.
“You need to stop before your mama starts cussing us both out.”
“I can’t. You’re just laying there looking sexy.” He says scooting closer to you on the sun bed.
“Ugh.” You roll your eyes and turn around, not even bothering anymore. Jermajesty laughs, hand still not moving anywhere.
ˎˊ˗
Bf! Jermajesty who can’t wait until he gets home to be inside you again. You’re laying on the bed half asleep, having waited on Jermajesty to get out the shower when he finally comes to bed. He lays down on your body, careful not to crush you under his weight. You adjust your arms so they’re around him and stroking lightly against his scalp.
Jermajesty shudders against your throat as he kisses and bites at your skin. “You tired, baby?”
The way he says it lets you know exactly what he’s hinting at, and you can’t help but get excited. “No, i want you.”
That’s all you have to say before he’s nudging his tip at your entrance.
He moves with the ease of someone who’s studied your body inside out and you can’t help but slowly move against him in return. He’s not going easy on you, your legs are bent against your chest, and he’s so deliciously hitting that spot in you. The fact that his family are all sleeping down the hall slips your mind entirely.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who complains about having to take your pictures, but would rather die than let anyone else do it for you.
“Baby how many do you need?” Jermajesty questions after you tell him to take it again. You’re sitting in the luxurious hotel lobby, dolled up and ready for dinner. He stands there throwing a tantrum. “They all look the same!”
You huff. He’d taken 10 pictures max. “Fine if you don’t wanna do it, someone else can.” You snatch the phone out his hand and turn to a hotel employee that just happened to walk by. “Hi, could you please take a picture of me.”
The employee doesn’t even have time to answer before Jermajesty cuts in, shaking his head. “It’s fine, I’ll do it.”
You give him the phone back. “I better not hear complaining this time.”
Your boyfriend doesn’t say anything, but keeps on snapping pictures of you.
ˎˊ˗
Bf!Jermajesty who can’t stop staring at you during the whole vacation. You’re sat at another table, bouncing one of his little cousins on your lap. The smile one your face is big as the two of you talk animatedly, hardly paying attention to anyone else at the restaurant. I mean the last time you’d even spoken two words to Jermajesty had been 30 whole minutes ago, before the little girl whisked you away.
His eyes followed your every move and every time your eyes lit up at something the little girl said, Jermajesty smiled.
“Bro, she not going no where.” Jaafar says from the chair besides him. “You can look away for two seconds, you know.”
“She’s good with kids.” Jermajesty said absently. “Like really good. Right?”
Jaafar looks over for a second before nodding. “Yeah, sure.” He doesn’t think much of it till Jermajesty remains quiet. Jaafar looks over and one look at his brother makes him shake his head. “Yeah absolutely not, man.”
A knowing smile pulls at Jermajesty’s lips. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face said enough.” His older brother countered.
It was only a matter of time before Jermajesty physically couldn’t stay away from you any longer. He begged his aunt to get her daughter knowing there was no way you’d leave her. He watched in satisfaction as his baby cousin was carried away from you crying and screaming. You looked around in confusion from your seat.
defending michael on internet isn’t enough, i need a gun.
fuck netflix and fuck all of you guys who are abandoning mike after this nasty documentary.
netflix isn’t innocent! after the biopic was released, everyone now wants to have a piece of michael to profit, he’s INNOCENT, everyone already knows and coming back and talking about these accusations years later and making a documentary about it is ridiculous, disrespectful and disgusting! worse, releasing this doc in JUNE.
Michael didn't deserve and doesn't deserve to go through this, let him rest in peace, he's already suffered a lot here on earth. May God bless him and may the world be a better place.
━ SUMMARY: when a phone call with his producer cuts into your date night, you decide to take matters into your own hands or mouth
━ CONTENT: 18+, smut, cursing, giving michael a blowjob while he’s on the phone, established relationship, mike’s down bad what’s new, oral m & f receiving he eats it like it’s his last meal, lots of teasing, a tiny bit of jealous michael bc why not, unprotected sex!!! (not a good idea y’all be safe out there), creampie, switch michael supremacy, them fuckin on the living room couch….idk they’re young & in love leave them alone
━ AUTHOR’S NOTE: i implore you to imagine off the wall michael with this one… (post otw but pre thriller) he was pregnant with the lady in my life here. idk let’s just imagine he was an absolute freak in the sheets during this time, mans was topping charts & winning awards nobody could stop him
Exactly forty-seven minutes had passed since Michael answered the call from Quincy.
“This’ll only take ten minutes.” His famous last words were uttered through a smile when he first held the phone to his ear, His producer’s voice audible even from where you sat on the other end of the couch.
You kept yourself busy with twiddling thumbs, ready to resume the rest of your evening, when ten minutes came and went. Then twenty— then thirty— leaving you to wonder if you’d ever get your boyfriend back at all.
Michael mouthed a voiceless, “I’m sorry” as he carried on the conversation nearly an hour later.
Your legs crossed and uncrossed against the couch cushions, as you picked at the bowl of popcorn in your lap. You listened to him talk, your gaze trailing over to where his fingers were wrapped in the phone cord, twisting and twirling as he went on and on about the sound of his next album.
You were supposed to be having a movie night tonight. It was a rare occurrence; Michael having the house to himself. He was excited to have you over, just the two of you, alone.
Although, he did love having you around his family— loved parading you around in front of his brothers.
He’d spent far too long listening to them give him a hard time. All their remarks about “when little mikey would ever get a girl.” So when you came into his life, he didn’t hesitate to show you off. You were just so perfect, and you were his.
He thanked his lucky stars for that late night at Quincy’s house. You’d met there when Michael was arriving to work on some demos and you were just heading out. You caught his attention immediately.
The producer’s house was always a revolving door of new faces, but you, he’d never seen you before. He would’ve remembered a pretty face like that— such delicate eyes, and the most mesmerizing smile he’d ever seen. He was instantly infatuated.
You made your exit after a quick introduction where Michael learned you were a close family friend of Quincy’s. You rushed out the door, assuring them that you didn’t want to “impose” and that you were “just leaving.” But Michael nearly begged you to stay. A three minute conversation wasn’t enough, he needed more. And despite his best efforts, he was less than subtle when he could barely wait for the door to close at your heels before asking about you— he was just too eager. Eager to know more, to hear your voice again, he was so determined that he got your phone number from Quincy and called you the very next day.
And while you were thankful that their close-knit relationship led to date nights snuggled next to Michael on his couch, you didn’t love that it also meant the two of them would be having brainstorming sessions at nine o’clock on a Saturday night.
Which is exactly why Michael had spent the better half of an hour talking on the phone, only sparing you a few glances and a handful of apologetic smiles.
It didn’t bother you, not really, but sitting there, watching his long slender fingers play with the coils of the telephone and seeing how his brows furrowed as he took charge of the conversation, made your thighs clench.
There was an undeniable heat running rampant between you, a raging, sweltering fire that neither of you were interested in putting out. Everything was just so new and addicting. The mutual infatuation was all consuming, both of you living in desperation for just a single minute alone so you could get your hands on each other.
And right now— you were needy and he was just so tempting.
The gentle cadence of his voice filled the room as he spoke, soft and sweet. It was reminiscent of the low sighs he would let out when you were beneath him.
His finger kept twirling, hooking and bending the handset cord while he bit at his lip, listening intently to Quincy on the other line, and you couldn’t help yourself. The subliminal movement of his slender digits sent you over the edge.
You set the popcorn bowl aside, inching your way closer to Michael until your shoulders were nearly touching.
You did your best to bat your lashes and pout your lips to convey a silent— “pretty please hang up the phone Mikey, I need you.”— But your efforts to sway him failed miserably as he held up a single finger in your direction, telling you to wait like you were some sort of impatient child getting scolded.
With a slight annoyance buzzing through your veins, and the damp sensation of your panties between your thighs, you sent your hand trailing up his leg, palm flat and heavy against his jeans.
A stern frown tugged at his lips, eyes narrowing as he looked your direction— a silent warning.
But you could see something fighting beneath the straight line of his lips, a twitch, a little grin pulling at the corners of his mouth— a challenge.
His eyes followed intently as your hand brushed against the denim at his crotch, your fingers dancing pompously at his zipper before he reached down to grab your wrist.
It was a light touch— cautionary and relaxed. And when your eyes met his again, the grin he was trying so hard to keep off his face was now a painfully obvious smirk. His hands were urging you to stop but his facial expression told an entirely different story.
Abandoning his attempt to be the responsible one in the situation, he lifted his hips in compliance as the gradual purr of his zipper echoed in quiet surrender.
A lazy “Mhmm,” hummed past his lips and into the phone.
The response was meant for Quincy. A soft murmur of agreement; but the way his eyes watched carefully as your head ducked down— the tip of his cock just barely meeting your lips— made you wonder if the sound was secretly meant for you. A quiet hum of encouragement.
You pressed your tongue flat against him, slow and sloppy, and he had to pull the phone a few inches from his ear, letting his head fall back and his teeth bite into his bottom lip, hard.
“Yeah, I think-“ he brought the phone back to his ear, ready to respond but stopping mid sentence.
Your lips wrapped around him, tongue swirling methodically against his tip, and he sucked in a shallow breath through his teeth to keep from moaning.
“No, I think that’s a good idea…” His voice was barely above a whisper as he squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to focus on the conversation.
His brows pulled together and his hands twitched, nearly flying to the back of your head, when you took him so deep into your mouth that you nearly gagged. He had to bite at his knuckles to keep from groaning straight into the telephone.
With his dick down your throat, you gazed up, hoping to see his pupils blown out in pleasure, but instead you were met with his eyelids— his eyes still closed, teeth digging into his hand, and phone at his ear.
It wasn’t until you wrapped your fingers around his shaft using your hand in tandem with your mouth, that his eyes shot open.
His glare was laced with submission as he watched you work up and down between his legs. The sight of your lips around him causing a mess of noises to choke into his hand as he tried to keep quiet.
His sounds were muffled and you could hear the murmur of Quincy’s voice drowning on through the phone, clueless that Michael wasn’t paying attention to a single word.
You worked faster, palm slick against his length and mouth messily sucking, with muffled whines sliding past your lips.
“Q I gotta- I gotta go.” Stammering out each word, Michael finally gave in, unsure if he could carry on with the way your little sounds felt against his cock.
“Yeah, I’ll call tomorrow.” His voice was weak and rushed as he tried to end the phone call. He’d have to come up with an explanation for the abrupt goodbye tomorrow, but for now he just needed the distraction gone.
The phone landed back in the switch hook with a quick “click” just as Michael let out the loudest groan you’d ever heard.
“Good God mama, you’re gonna kill me.” The words drained from his lips, hips involuntarily bucking into your mouth.
His hands found the back of your head, caressing and guiding you onto his cock.
“Couldn’t even let me take a quick phone call.” He muttered the words with his head falling back against the couch, but as soon as it leaves his mouth, you sit back, pulling your lips off of him and causing a broken whine to break from his chest.
You stare up at him, lips plump and a single brow raised in bewilderment.
You were preparing to make a sarcastic comment before leaving him to take care of himself after his smart-ass remark, but he uses the break to his advantage, pulling you from between his legs and flipping your body until your back met the couch cushions.
“Someone needs to learn how to be a little more patient.” His voice was like silk traveling between your bodies as he hovered over you. His delivery was so soft and supple, you almost didn’t mind that he was using it to chastise you.
“If I know what I want, why wait?” There was a slight irritation in your tone that Michael picked up on immediately.
Laughing against your skin, he brought his face down to your neck leaving a trail of tender kisses in his wake. He moved down your body, nose brushing against your torso, as his hands pushed at your shirt, giving him access to your stomach. Slow kisses littered the waistline of your pants as he took his time, teasing.
“Sometimes all the fun is in the waiting...” He doesn’t even look at you when the whisper leaves his lips, too busy running them along your skin.
“anticipation.” The word hums against you and you can feel his lips curl into a smile.
“Mikey please.”
He gives in, peeling the clothing from your legs until you’re bare, back arching off the couch, needy for him to do something, anything.
“I like it when you beg. Sounds real pretty.” He’s cooing as he watches the way your legs spread for him, his stare fixated on the glistening mess between your thighs.
“Just fuck me- please.” With a desperate whine in your last word you give him exactly what he wants— you beg.
“Wanna get a taste first.”
Michael would spend hours between your thighs if you let him. He was obsessed with your pleasure, fixated on the way your body would react. Listening for the little sighs that would seep from your chest and flicking his tongue over the same spot until your legs were clenching around his head. He loved that he could make you feel like that— on the verge of complete ecstasy with just his mouth.
Lowering himself flat against the couch, he presses his tongue flat against your center, wasting no time; lapping at your core and moaning into you with the taste of your arousal dousing his tongue.
He ate like he was starving, only satisfied through every gasp on your lips and tug in his hair.
He sucked at your clit. Lewd sounds filled the room as his mouth suctioned around your wet pussy, his groans muffled and yours ringing out across the room.
Thank god no one would be home tonight.
Michael loved showing you off in front of his brothers but he couldn’t handle the thought of them seeing you like this. A dark shade of envy clouded his vision at the mere idea of it. They couldn’t love you like he could— couldn’t make you feel the way her could.
The warm, wet muscle of his tongue met your gummy walls and you had to keep yourself from clamping your legs around his ears. It was sloppy and desperate the way his tongue fucked in and out of you.
His lips enveloped your cunt, every inch of his mouth hot and wet against you, dedicated to your pleasure. Hungry to have you writhing against his face until you were on the verge of tears.
His hips pushed into the fabric beneath him. Shamelessly grinding into the couch, too worked up by the way your juices and his saliva intertwined as they dripped between your thighs.
He was so focused on the task at hand that he almost didn’t feel you pulling at his shirt collar, fingers desperately grasping at the material in an effort to pull him up— to feel his chest against yours as he pushed his length into you as deep as he could. Fucking you relentlessly and making you cry out every time his cock threatened to kiss your cervix.
“Need it so bad, Mikey please.” Your pathetic little mewl finally caused him to come up for air. As much as he wanted to keep going, he couldn’t deny you any longer, and after all, he did love to hear you beg.
“What d’ya need baby?” His lips were back on your stomach, kissing and lingering on your skin, still hungry for your taste.
“Need you to fuck me Mikey, c’mon.”
Your hands were still tugging on his shirt, while his tightened around your thighs.
“Please.” The whine squeaked past your lips as your fingers continued yanking on the cotton at his shoulders.
“Only cause you asked all sweet like that.” He purred looking up at you, the cadence of his voice was angelic and smooth despite his heavy grip on your thighs.
His body hung above yours, his shaky breath warm against your face as he lined himself up at your entrance. He was still teasing, running his tip through the mess pooling at your opening and rubbing it against your clit, listening carefully to the needy little gasps rolling off your tongue.
Your hands fell to his lower back, pushing up his t-shirt enough to lightly scrape your nails against his skin, ushering his body down into yours in a desperate attempt to feel him push into you— even just an inch.
He obliged. His length easing into you nice and slow, stretching you out in a way that had your eyelids fluttering shut.
You felt his forehead rest on yours, a deep sigh falling from his lips as he found solace in the way you hugged him in just right.
“Mmm baby you feel s’good.” His voice was so soft you could barely hear it, even with his lips so close to yours. You’d been waiting for this side of Michael all night. The part of him that became a blubbering, groaning mess, drunk on the feeling of your velvet pussy wrapped around him like a petty little bow.
He pushed in deep, letting his dick bury all the way inside, before stopping for a few seconds just to feel the way your walls squeezed around him, like they were begging for more.
Both of you were already so sensitive, so wound up, so close. When he started moving you couldn’t help the hums of encouragement rising from your chest, “Yes Mikey- fuck. That’s it. Right there.”
Your hushed praises made him pick up the pace, pulling out of you completely before thrusting back in, hitting a spot each time that made your back arch and your eyes water.
He kept going, driving into you with the carefully measured movement of his hips. He knew you were close; your body tensing and nails digging hard into the skin of his back.
The crude hymns that had just been spewing from your lips were growing almost inaudible.
Almost.
But Michael could still hear it. Your quiet little whimpers, “Fuck baby- so good.” Your body was almost rigid, jaw slack and eyebrows pulled together as you grasped at his back.
“You’re so- so good Mikey.” Each word billowed up to Michael with his forehead still pressed against yours. He had to squeeze his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his hips to keep himself from spilling into you. Your needy whines of admiration sending him spiraling toward release.
“So good to me.”
“So perfect.”
Engulfing your words in a long drawn out moan, your voice was a melody of satisfaction. Little noises of pleasure melted against Michael’s ears as you pulsed around him— coming undone through each languid stroke of his hips.
He lost it then; the sounds you were making, the tight grip of your pussy sucking him in, the sticky ring of you at his base building with every pump— it was almost too much.
He didn’t even ask if it was okay— didn’t even give you a warning before he let himself go, every last drop of his release nestling deep between your thighs. A broken whimper dying in his throat as he emptied into you.
With your foreheads still pressed together and your chests heaving, Michael thought about apologizing, wracking his brain for the right thing to say after coming in you without warning. He knew better.
He should feel ashamed for doing something so wrong— so risky. But instead of shame he felt a strange sense of pride, like he wanted to do it again and again.
With his dick still twitching, he pulled out, angling his head to watch where his spend leaked out between your bodies— seeping from your swollen folds.
“You should probably get something to clean that up.” Your voice broke into his mind, timid and sweet.
When he looked up, he was met with a wild smile, your lips curling with amusement as you watched him staring at the mess he’d made between your legs: a mess that was now dripping onto his living room couch.
“Mhmm.” His hum of agreement sounded distant as he fought not to look back down at the remnants of his release dribbling from your center. His weight rolled off of you; his body on a mission to find a towel, but his mind buzzing with a plan to have you full of him again before the end of the night.
thinking of michael being obsessed with ur ass (18+ mdni)
warnings: ASS. lap dance. awkward writing about said lap dance. ass smacking. panties in mouth. ass kissing. take a shot every time you read the word ass
your boyfriend pushes himself onto a random chair in your bedroom the second you get home, eyes low and sleepy. “you were dancing so pretty f’me,” he tells you, voice all gravel, referring back to how you basically ground your ass to his crotch at the club he had to drag you out of.
“you gonna put onna show now, huh?”
michael’s wrapped up in the way your hips swirl in front of him in graceful little movements, aviators low on his nose, watching intently how you slide off your tiny skirt in a slow glide. his bottom lip disappears between his teeth, eyes flickering over your long legs, your soft stomach.
his large hands are jammed into the pockets of his trousers, adjusting his dick to make himself even more comfortable as he licks his lips.
the lights are all dim, casting an amber glow across your skin as michael’s big hands can’t help but caress every inch of your exposed, soft skin as you kick off your skirt, leaving you in your tiny top and panties, your perfect body sliding down his spread legs.
your movements falter a little when you notice michael’s heavy stare behind the glasses, his smile all dopey and satisfied at seeing your plump ass move in front of him. his pretty girl doing a little private dance for him.
“why you stallin’, angel?” he murmurs when your ministrations quiver. your cheeks feel warm when you notice his nimble hands wanting to reach over to your figure.
the flat of his hand sharply taps the middle of your ass cheek as a hint for you to giddy up, his long fingers digging into your plush flesh to douse the sting blooming across your ass.
“oh.” your voice sounds small when you realise what michael did. what he did to your ass. hitting it. branding it as his — and only his — to touch.
his warm hands roam over your hips at the exact moment you want to bend down in front of him. “don’t be shy, baby,” he croons at seeing the black lace of your panties shoved between your ass cheeks. “show me what that ass can do.” michael says in a way that makes you feel small.
the words sound so vulgar coming from his lips. the wetness in your panties blooms at realising how extremely obscene the scene looks in your mind. “know my baby can dance real good f’me.”
you try to move your waist to the sensual rnb tune playing in the background, michael’s fingers still feeling heavy and present on your hips, using your core to move up and down, all flexible.
“thaaat’s it, angel. y’r a natural,” he praises, voice lazy as you bend over even more. “look at’cha. don’t even need my help.”
a tiny, helpless whimper escapes you at his shameless praise.
“oh— y’like that?” michael’s face is so close to you, his breath coating the globes of your ass as you feel his soft mouth pepper kisses over the skin there, leaving wet dots as he alternates between the two cheeks, free hand cupping your cunt as you hump against it out of desperation. “y’like when i kiss on that pretty little ass?”
he noses the skin there, all sweet-smelling, knowing grin on his face. a needy, breathy “yes” from you shows that his special attention to your backside turns you on even more, back bowing deeply into a curve.
“love ’er too.” michael groans, ignoring the strain in his trousers, hand coming in firm contact with your butt, eyes transfixed on how your flesh bounces from the impact.
his steady hand on the soft of your ass gets you even more messy. “y— that’s so nasty, mike—” you sigh, slick sliding down your legs already, feeling so exposed and vulnerable for the man behind you.
“look at that, baby, milky lil’ hole ‘s droolin’ already, yeah? gonna leave a handprint—” another smack to your round ass, “right there.”
you flutter your eyes shut, hips jerking back when you feel michael’s fingers wriggle under the elastic around your hipbones.
“wan’ your mouth on me,” is all you can verbalise, your hands coming back to push michael’s hands onto your ass cheeks again, pushing them up and open for his eyes to take in. you spread your legs wider, cool air swishing between your walls. “fuck, p-put your mouth on me again, please.”
“and i am the nasty one?” michael huffs amusedly, teeth grazing over the soft flesh. “baby, you’re the dirtiest from the two’f us.”
the noiret’s teeth hook around the slim strip of fabric that disappears between your full ass cheeks, pulling it out, letting it snap back as he delivers wet smack after wet smack to the side of your ass, pressing kisses all over, from where your ass meets leg all the way over to the inside of your thigh, smelling your seeping arousal.
the echo of skin hitting skin travels across the room, so obscene and filthy. your pitchy moans get increasingly louder the more michael smacks your flesh, the muscle jumping dramatically as his eyes remain fixated on your reddened skin.
“jus’ lemme love on that needy ass,” he promises, more to himself, as his large hands rub over it. your whines get wetter, needier, unconsciously humping the air to get some satisfaction.
“look at’chu, shovin’ it in my face like the sweet girl you are.”
a/n: do we all know that clip of him adjusting himself because omg his hands look so big and warm and large and thick i know he’d be able to cover my whole face with just one hand. + omg also that clip in which he’s walking behind that model and slaps the air behind her goodbye???? please smack my ass while i ride ur dick with ur abnormally large fingers in my mouth thanks
a/n: very quick and short! oh maybe a little ooc/manipulative michael?
michael has stopped paying attention to the movie about an hour ago.
i mean, how can he watch another stupid action movie with unnecessary amounts of violence, explosions and gun shots when you are sitting so pretty next to him?
this is what he always does— crawls into your personal space. too close, too warm, hands wandering places they shouldn’t. especially because he’s your best friend, and friends don’t do stuff like that.
but you’re gullible. michael’s goody two shoes friend, always getting teased, always being protected with naivety. that doesn’t mean you’re dumb. you can already feel michael’s long fingers slide around your hipbones, digging into the plush of your skin with their usual possessiveness. you already know what’s coming.
then: “y’wanna sit on my lap, angel?”
michael poses it like a question. but it really isn’t. “wha— why, mikey?” you turn your head toward him.
he flashes you a lazy, filthy grin. “just comfy, sweets,” he tells you. “nothin’ wrong with that, right?”
that’s true. most of your movie nights end up with you strewn across your best friend’s lap, body extended like you’re a lazy cat while the two of you watch the television, revelling in the feeling of michael’s big hands carressing your thighs, your sides, with slow strokes.
you don’t really answer. that guilty, sinking feeling in your eyes says enough. instead, your body obeys like it doesn’t have a choice. you’re crawling over to him without a word.
like clockwork, michael spreads his thighs wider to accommodate your heart-shaped ass right to his crotch. he leans back against the sofa, the feeling of your head tucked safely under his chin as his fingers splay over your abdomen to keep you exactly there.
“y’r a good girl, you,” he presses a light, friendly kiss to the crown of your head, and you have to do your best not to squirm from how fluttery and floaty michael’s making you feel. “that’s better, isn’t it, baby?”
the scenes of the movie playing blur into meaningless dots of colour. you’re totally out of it, but you agree wholeheartedly. “yes, mikey.”
the longer you stay here—slotted against your best friend’s chest, your ass pressing into his half-hard dick, feeling the steady rise and fall of michael’s chest—the more aware you become of how his balmy hands dig into the soft of your stomach, how his legs widened. how his hips bucked up to keep himself comfortable underneath you.
“lemme in, sweet girl,” your best friend speaks against the shell of your ear, wicked grin on his face. your whole body freezes in his hold. “michael, you can’t—”
“we’ve done it a million times before,” he interrupts, pecking the top of your head once more. that’s also true, but every time he enters you, it feels like the first time all over again. “it’s nothing bad, baby. just keepin’ me warm. you know that.”
his hand already disappears under the hem of your loose shorts. “just lift your hips f’r me, sweets.”
your body just obeys, a shaky breath leaving your lips as you feel michael’s hand push your shorts down. he frees himself just as fast. “it’s gonna be okay, baby. just me.”
he’s thick. slick. hot, as he settles you back on his lap again, shorts pathetically pooling around your ankles. his cock nudges against your thigh as a silent promise.
“look, we’re not even doing anything.” michael reassures once more.
ironically, that’s the moment he chooses to push into you. the pace is slow and sweet, yet dizzying and mind-numbing. every scrape of him inside your spongey hole has you whimpering in the tension-filled room.
your mouth is gaped open, eyes squeezed shut at his intrusion. yes, every time feels like the first time because he’s just so big. your hands claw at his wrists for leverage. “m-mike, i—”
“see, ‘m not movin’.” the noiret behind you grunts, voice strained and heavy, jaw tight. “we’re not doin’ anything— you’re just keepin’ me comfortable.”
comfortable, yes. the squelching pulse of your pussy with every passing second. you feel like a balloon, completely filled to the brim with your best friend’s cock. “okay, then.” you say in a small voice.
you feel him, sitting there, silently leaking into you as you two pretend to watch the movie you weren’t paying attention to in the first place.
oh we need some more pervy bsf mike..like what he used to do before deflowering y/n
perv!bsf!mikey who, before reaching third base with you, would lift your shirt a little too high, to 'tickle' you (grope your cute waist) chuckling softly at your whiney protest when your pretty lacy bra would be exposed >⩊<.ᐟ
perv!bsf!mikey who hugs you a little to tight to feel the swell of your tits on him
perv!bsf!mikey who asked you to rate his cock, but you cant leave him all hard and leaky! so he has you wrap your hands around him "where'd you learn to be this good? hm?"
perv!bsf!mikey who doesnt want to make a mess when he cums, so he has you stick your wet tongue out. resting his pretty brown tip on it, shooting cum down your throat.
perv!bsf!mikey who grinds his morning wood on your perky ass in the morning, whilst you sleep, after a sleepover.
perv!bsf!mikey who grips your waist a little to tightly when you're talking to jackie for far to long
perv!bsf!mikey who has told you that its completely normal for best friends to change infront of each other!!
perv!bsf!mikey who rubs your puffy pussy to 'practice' for his future girlfriend.
perv!bsf!mikey who knows you said 'no fingers' when getting you off, but how is he supposed to make you feel good!! muffling your protests with deep kisses, as he slides two fingers in your poor little pussy.
perv!bsf!mikey whos gonna get touched by me
a/n: sorry for the inactivity!! im on vacation yayayay, but michaels still HEAVY on my mind, enough that im deadass on my way to see it for a 3rd time rn, glad to see it's the same for you all still!! please make more reqs!! im here to service you all!! ok love you byebyebye
a little reminder since yall wanna watch that fuckass netflix documentary anyway
edit: oh and another thing, try and come into my ask box on anon to debate this, I will block you effectively and immediately bc I don’t listen to bullshit and won’t argue with stupid people either. - adding this to the original post since some of you wanna act a fool. 🪽
