Maddie Simpson faces most of the backlash and criticism due to her support of the genocide that the children and people of Gaza have suffered at the hands of Israel. It’s gross and there’s been not one thing said by her to confirm that she’s gotten educated and no longer supports that.
i find it ESPECIALLY weird because her fiancée and partner of ten years is a muslim man who seems extremely proud in his religion, so i still don’t understand how that doesn’t cause collision between the two of them🤷♀️ However, im a firm believer in if she ever “stopped” supporting Israel, she would feel the need to speak out against the controversy surrounding her that’s now spreading to Jaafars career.
Until Maddie speaks up and publicly says she ISNT in support of Israel the same way she spoke up publicly and said she IS in support of israel, it’s best to assume she’s still funding Israeli soldiers and supporting the killing, harming, and endangering of the innocent civilians in Gaza.
I’d also like to add that the last time she posted about her support for genocide was on October 7th, 2025. That was less than a year ago, to be exact it was barely 8 months ago.
Let's Talk About Some Issues Within the Michael Jackson Fandom
The Michael Jackson fandom has done incredible work carrying on Michael's legacy and defending him against misinformation over the years. But if we're being honest, there are habits within the fandom itself that deserve criticism of their own. Loving Michael doesn't mean we should be afraid to call out the unhealthy behavior within our own community.
1. The Infantilization of Michael
Let's talk about the infantilization of Michael in this fandom.
We're treating this man like he's a child.
Yes, Michael was a child at heart, and yes, he enjoyed childlike things. But he was also a grown man. He was capable of making his own decisions, making mistakes, learning from them, and living with the consequences of those decisions.
Sometimes people talk about Michael as if he had no agency at all, as if every single thing that happened in his life was because someone else made him do it. That's simply not true. You can acknowledge the trauma he went through without stripping him of his adulthood.
Treating him like he was permanently a child doesn't honor him. It erases part of who he was. Michael himself wanted to be respected as a man, an artist, and a businessman. We can recognize that he had an innocent spirit without pretending he wasn't capable of making his own choices.
2. Parasocial Relationships
Now, we're in a fandom where we write fanfiction about him. Yes, we imagine ourselves in a relationship with Michael at times. That's part of fandom.
But acting as if you personally knew him, and let me highlight this, speaking with certainty about what he would have wanted or what he would have thought, is where I draw the line.
The truth is, we did not know this man. We only saw so much of his life and his personality. We don't know him, and he isn't here to speak for himself. I think it's unfair to place our own opinions in his mouth and present them as facts.
It's like the whole Jermajesty situation all over again. People take fanfiction, where he's often written as toxic, and start acting as if that's his personality in real life, when it's literally been proven otherwise.
And I've noticed something else.
The pictures people use for those "toxic Jermajesty" fanfics are almost always the ones where he has the buzz cut.
So let me ask this:
How much of what we write and represent in this fandom is simply imagination, and how much of it comes from stereotypes that we're taking too seriously and using to represent real people?
3. Harassment Within the Fandom
This is probably going to be the longest section because I have a lot to say about this.
We all know the post I made where I said that Maddie Simpson supports Israel and Zionism, which has been proven, and that she supports the murder of civilians, especially children, in Gaza. She has shown no remorse for her actions or made a public statement denouncing Zionism like Paris Jackson has. Until she makes a public statement, I will continue to take that as her opinion.
I said I do not like that, and I do not agree with her opinion.
At the same time, I also defended her against the people attacking her looks and her body because I said that if you're attacking her appearance, it has nothing to do with her political opinion and more to do with the fact that she's engaged to Jaafar Jackson. I don't think that's fair. She's allowed to have her opinion, and I'm allowed to disagree with it. That doesn't mean I'm going to go out of my way to harass her.
Then there was another post where a fan sent her a message, and she responded harshly, even though the message itself was kind and wholesome. In my post, I said two things.
First, we don't know if that's the full story. We don't know if there were messages before that. We don't know if this person had messaged her before.
Second, I said this could have been an automatic response, and that alone doesn't automatically make her a bad person.
Based on the limited information we all had, I shared my opinion on the situation.
Now, weeks later, another account, who I'm not going to tag because I've already blocked her (her blog is f1stuffblog, if you want to look for it), came into my comments harassing both me and my mutuals. She called me a disgusting bitch and accused me of being parasocial for talking about the situation.
Meanwhile, she's the one in my comments calling me names over Maddie Simpson, a woman who doesn't even know she exists.
What the fuck is the problem?
If you disagree with someone's opinion, that's your right. But there is a difference between disagreement and harassment. Calling people names, insulting them, and repeatedly going after them over an opinion isn't healthy discussion. It's harassment.
4. Treating Fan Theories as Facts
As I talked about before with the Jermajesty fanfics, fanfiction is fanfiction. There's nothing wrong with enjoying fictional stories.
The problem starts when people take those fictional portrayals and begin treating them as if they're accurate representations of someone's real personality.
Jermajesty is often written as toxic in fanfiction. That's fine. It's fiction. But when people start presenting that version of him as if it's established fact, despite there being no evidence to support it, that's no longer fanfiction. That's stereotyping.
Presenting speculation as established history without evidence only spreads misinformation, and it creates unfair perceptions of real people who never asked to be fictionalized in the first place.
5. Gatekeeping
Let's talk about gatekeeping.
Saying newer or younger fans aren't "real fans" because they weren't around when Michael was alive, or because they discovered him through the Michael movie, is ridiculous.
Discovering Michael Jackson because of the movie is not a crime.
There are people who, twenty years from now, will have just been born. They'll discover Michael's music for the very first time, and they'll love him just as much as we do today.
You are not entitled to Michael Jackson simply because you've been listening to him since you were a child. There is room for everybody in this fandom.
Love and unity, above everything else, is what Michael stood for.
Now imagine knowing that people within his own fandom are arguing over who's a "real fan" and who's a "fake fan," when all Michael ever wanted was for people to enjoy the music.
I'm not saying there aren't newer fans who behave inappropriately. Every fandom has people like that.
But something I've noticed, especially with situations like the Bae Nation group chat, is that people are very quick to blame younger fans for everything.
And while I'm not presenting this as fact, I genuinely believe there have always been older fans who are genuine weirdos themselves, using newer fans as scapegoats to say and do the things they've wanted to say and do for a very long time.
I think that's unfair to newer fans, and it's one of the reasons so many of them end up leaving the fandom.
6. Fan Entitlement
I don't even know if I have to elaborate on this one.
The Jackson family does not owe you access to every detail of their private lives.
Just because they're public figures doesn't mean they're required to share every relationship, every conversation, every family gathering, or every personal moment with us. Some things are meant to stay private, and that's okay.
Being a fan does not entitle you to someone's personal life.
Let's Talk About Incest Fanfiction
This is probably one of the strangest things I've seen within this fandom.
First, there was fanfiction about Jaafar and Jermajesty, who are biological brothers.
Then there was fanfiction about Michael and Jaafar, who are uncle and nephew.
And this is one I find strange.
Nobody was writing fanfiction about Jaafar Jackson and Nia Long.
Then they did an interview together at the BET Awards where Nia herself said that she sees Jaafar as a son and that she's become like a second mother to him.
After that interview established their relationship publicly as a mother-and-son dynamic, suddenly people wanted to start writing fanfiction about them.
So... you never wanted to write fanfiction about them before.
But now that they've publicly described their relationship as mother and son, that's when y'all decide to start shipping them?
I genuinely don't understand that.
Disagree with me if you want, but I find it disturbing.
7. Obsession with Appearance & AI/Misinformation
Let's talk about the constant obsession with Michael's appearance.
Instead of focusing on his artistry, his humanitarian work, or the impact he had on music, people spend their time debating his face, his skin, and his body.
"Oh, his nose looked so perfect during the Bad era."
"I wish he had never touched his face."
"I wish he hadn't gotten this done."
"I wish he hadn't changed that."
Please... shut up.
And while we're on the topic, can we finally put the "Michael wanted to be white" narrative to rest?
If there was anybody on the face of this planet who was proud of being a Black man, it was Michael Jackson.
Ironically, the more his vitiligo progressed and the lighter his skin became, the more Black-centered and politically outspoken his music became.
People don't like talking about that, but it's true.
Now let's talk about AI-generated content and misinformation.
I hate it.
The AI-generated pictures where Michael suddenly has abs.
The edited clips.
The fake quotes.
The unverified stories.
It takes two seconds, or no more than five minutes, to verify your sources.
Why would you see something online, make absolutely no effort to fact-check it, and then share it as if it's true?
Aren't you scared of looking like an idiot if someone fact-checks you and proves you wrong?
Then again, a lot of people would rather double down than admit they were wrong, so I guess that answers my own question.
8. Talking Down on the Jackson Family
I've talked about this before.
Michael Jackson was Michael Jackson.
Nobody is disputing that.
Michael was elite. There will never be another Michael Jackson.
But what we're not going to do is pretend that the rest of his family are talentless, useless, or somehow irrelevant simply because Michael reached a level that no one else has.
The Jackson family is full of incredible singers, dancers, musicians, performers, writers, and entertainers.
Not just Michael's siblings, but the younger generation as well.
Appreciating Michael shouldn't require disrespecting the rest of his family.
9. Romanticizing Michael's Suffering
This is something that genuinely bothers me.
People romanticize Michael's trauma, his loneliness, and his pain as if they're poetic or aesthetic instead of recognizing them for what they really were.
Trauma.
Loneliness.
Pain.
None of those things are beautiful.
And if we're being honest, this is one of the same reasons people failed to take Michael's suffering seriously while he was alive.
People watched him struggle and turned that struggle into entertainment or mythology instead of recognizing that he was a human being who was hurting.
Now, decades later, some people are doing the exact same thing.
......
None of this is meant to attack the fandom.
I'm part of this fandom too.
But I think it's important that we're able to criticize unhealthy behavior within our own community instead of pretending it doesn't exist.
You can love Michael, defend his legacy, and still hold fellow fans accountable when they're spreading misinformation, harassing people, invading privacy, or treating real human beings like fictional characters.
Loving Michael Jackson should bring people together.
Not divide them.
And if we want to honor the values he spent his entire life talking about, then maybe it's time we start showing each other a little more respect.
Tag list : @cocomilaa @blcknebula @stiflersbabymama @callmeoncette @needjoekeery @nuttyrebelflower @1eliana123-blog @ladyearthsea @rastharex @darkgreengrl @bananajoeclone @violet0182 @minghaossv @melynex @thebabykashmere @ghoulxeg @simply-lovley44
I beg yall to stop using michael, jaafar or jermajesty tags in each others fics cuz wdym i am trying to search for a michael fic and then Jaafar pops up
pairing: Jaafar Jackson x fem!reader (both celebrities)
warning: fluff + suggestive (MDNI)
genre: fluff / romance
word count: 2,442
proofread: nope
taglist: @bonni-98 (join here)
synopsis: after coming back from a night out, you decide to go live to do a casual catch-up with your fans. things get interrupted with a drunk, clingy Jaafar wandering in the background, though.
a/n: this damn pic of him specifically, muh gawd
⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ ✎﹏﹏𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 had been home for, maybe, 20 minutes, after being out partying with some friends for surely over 3 hours, you weren’t quite ready for bed just yet. You and Jaafar had exited from the uber, and helped one another make it safely inside, Jaafar hugging your hips like his life depended on it.
You were now in your dimly lit bedroom, sitting at your vanity that is placed in front of your bed, while Jaafar found refuge in the restroom. Still in your going-out clothes, you mindlessly scrolled on your phone, bored, but again, not yet ready for sleep. Then an idea popped into your head: It had been a while since you had interacted on live with your fanbase. You posted an Instagram story earlier of you and Jaafar, and your phone was buzzing for a while after, so you knew they were interested. Scrolling back to the top, you adjust yourself, wrapping a blanket around you as you click the Go Live button.
You run your fingers through your hair, flattening any kinks as the live begins, your eyes steadily watching the view count go up.
"HI, guys! I feel like I've been negligent lately, so I just wanted hop on live to check in with you all," you softly speak, smiling as the comments start to roll in.
girl where have u been
too busy partying with ur bf I seeeeeee
we miss you
You laugh at the reprimanding comments, realizing how long it truly has been since you've made a post.
"Okay, but I was at the Gala not even a month ago, you guys," you tease.
doesn't count
we want more stuff from you
what's in the works
where did ya'll go tn
You intentionally ignore the comments in regards to your upcoming projects and things you have in the works.
'Me and J just spent some time with some friends. It feels like forever since I've seen some of them," you say, already reminiscing on the night spent out.
You were looking forward to this Saturday since the plans were made on Monday, almost acting as an incentive for getting through the week. They were friends you had known since the beginning of your career. You all blossomed in the industry together, so no matter how long it had been, everything seemed to always fall right back into place.
But you knew that you had a busy schedule starting Monday, so not wanting to spend your Sunday afternoon hungover, you decided not to drink too much. Jaafar, on the other hand, did not hold himself back. When drunk, he was the type of person who was whiny, clinging, and sleepy. In your mind, there were worse things a drunk could be.
"Yeah, Jaafar is somewhere in the house," you laugh as you reply to comments asking about your boyfriend.
"Anyway, I just wanted to come on and check in on you guys, so maybe we should do, like, a little Q/A?" you ask, smiling in agreement as comments continue to cloud your screen, floating by so quickly, you can barely keep up with the questions.
The next few minutes are spent just talking, answering a wide range of questions, and plugging back in with your fanbase. You're in the middle of answering a question about your skin routine when there is a sudden door shutting in the distance behind you. Ignoring it, you continue.
"And then I like to use a moisturizer," you carry on as the noise of feet padding softly against your wooden floor is heard from the hallway outside the door, framed to the left of you. The noise grows closer.
Then, there he is. Broad figure, curls wild with his dark brown eyes droopy from his night out. Shirtless he stood, toned stomach out, brown skin soft and now wearing just grey sweatpants, as he makes his way to the bed. You eye him in your camera, trying your best to shift the screen before anyone notices.
But your fans notice everything.
oh hello jaafar
guest appearance
boi looks like he had a time
holy moly
it's like seeing the stripped pants all over again
The comments don't stop as you try to stifle a laugh, moving your chair over to hide Jaafar as best as you can once he resides onto the bed, trying to give him some privacy.
"Sorry guys, anyways, let me remember which step I was on," you pick back up. Looking upward, you try your best to think about your skin routine and definitely not how yummy Jaafar looks right now.
He isn't much help at that, though.
"Babe, I was calling for you, I almost fell in the bathroom," he whines, a cute pout sitting on his lips as he messily walks over to you, the alcohol still obviously clouding his mind. "Where was my baby?" he mumbles into your hair as he comes behind you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. He just stands there, his breath tickling your neck as he burrows his face into the crook.
"I'm on live right now, J, sorry," you laugh, rolling your eyes at his dramatics.
his babyyyyy wuhhhh
this is so cute im gonna vomit
we all now what kind of drunk he is
bless it
The comments cause you to giggle, shaking Jaafar slightly as you laugh.
"Don't laugh at me, it was serious," he grumbles into your hair again.
"The viewers are laughing at you," you joke, passing the blame along. You lean into him and pat his hair as he sighs deeply.
"Meanies," he whispers.
"You should go lay down, I'll get off soon," you suggest, trying your best to untangle his hands from your waist, but they only seem to tighten their grip, causing you to jolt at the closeness, your side brushing into Jaafar's bare chest.
"You're so warm and comfy, though," Jaafar says, hugging you closer, if that was even possible. "And you smell so good."
that boy is so whipped
can't wait to see the edits in the am
need the fic rn
"He is so stubborn guys, I swear," you joke with your chat, smiling as the comments roll in and tease along with you.
Jaafar pulls apart and looks at you with a shocked face. He crosses his arms in an offended way, ready to defend himself.
"I am not stubborn, girl," he starts, jaw ajar at your words.
"Don't even lie, J. You so are," you continue teasing. You shift the camera so the viewers can see the way the grown man is acting, making an "are you guys seeing this" face at the camera.
dramatic too
is he five or almost 30 I can't remember
boi go to bed
why is no one questioning how he almost fell
shirt where?
"Don't act like you aren't either," he continues, pointing a playfully accusing finger at you. A smirk tugs at his lips, eyes shining with a mischievous glow, and you know something is coming. "So stubborn when you're begging me to-"
You pale with shock, body jumping as you begin shushing him. "Shut up! I am on live right now, Jaafar." You push him away as he just laughs at the chaos he started.
Your face is in full shock as your eyes slowly look back at your chat.
HELLOOOO
begging?!?!?!
JAAFAR JACKSON WTF
oml he's evil
girl I'd beg too
"Guys, I am so sorry. Please excuse my clearly inebriated boyfriend." You apologize and wave a dismissing hand behind you as Jaafar walks away, heading towards the bed. Your skin feels warm now, and the low, deep chuckle that escapes Jaafar's lips settles deep in your chest.
On the screen of your phone, you can see Jaafar flop himself head-first onto your bed, immediately laying on his side as he grabs a pillow to cuddle with, mumbling something under his breath about how "it could be you" as you try your best to continue your live.
show stealer
never wanter to be a pillow so bad in my life rn
bi-panic anyone???
I dont even remember what we were on about
"Me neither," you respond, scrolling back up a few on the live comments to regain your train of thought.
There's shuffling behind you, and you make a defeated huff as you wait in anticipation for what his next antic is gonna be. He keeps wandering around in the background, switching from mindlessly walking around the room, being nosey, to the bed, distracting both you and your chat.
"You're the prettiest girl in the world, you know?" Jaafar declares, now flopping over to lay on his back and look up at you.
"Thank you, J," you say, blushing slightly and praying the camera isn't able to pick it up.
"I feel so lucky everyday I get to see you and be with you and hold you and touch you," he carries on, dramatic and slurring his words as he counts off the items on his fingers, taking this conversation very seriously.
he is so whipped oml
america's sweetheart
best bf ever everyone
we love jaafar
"My fans are loving this," you say aloud, looking back at Jaafar, whose soft eyes stare into yours, glistening with admiration.
Jaafar is quiet for a moment, you assuming he's in his own little world or has dozed off, but after checking the comments, you're surprised.
girl
mama there a girl behind you
are we gonna tell her
he's like a bad ahh kid
it's clearly past someone's bedtime
Looking behind you on the camera, Jaafar is now sitting up and blowing kisses to your camera.
"You cannot be serious," you laugh, swatting a hand at him.
"Don't worry, babe, I'll save the real thing for my sweet girl," he says, in a way he must think is flirtatious, and winks at you, failing.
"Oh my, gosh, Jaafar, enough," you tease, turning back around once he lays back down. You try again at reengaging yourself with your livestream, it only having been thirty or so minutes.
"I do have some exciting stuff coming up for you, guys," you start again, addressing some comments still inquiring about projects.
You carry on as you try ignoring the bed squeaks behind you and the soft padding of feet on the floor.
A gentle hand lands on your back and soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead.
"I am so bored, baby. We should have stayed longer," Jaafar gently speaks, rubbing up and down your back as his full body is now in frame, a cute smile on his face.
"If we stayed longer, you would have fallen out onto the street," you joke, poking his side as you look up at him.
"Yeah, but that would be so funny," he responds. "I can handle my drinks well, by the way." He refers his last comment to the chat.
"I'm so tired," he says now, bumping your hip with his as he tries sitting beside you, in the very small chair that is obviously not meant for two grown adults.
"You are so annoying, we are not gonna both fit," you argue, pushing back as Jaafar uncomfortably sits down.
"I just want to be with you," he whines, the pout returning that you have grown very familiar with. He tries sharing the blanket, too, squeezing himself under unsuccessfully.
again, a bad ahh kid
I never thought we would see this side of him
can't stop laughing at the image of jaafar drunk in the street laid out
Suddenly, the blanket that hugs your body is being tugged at, and before you know it, Jaafar has now stolen it and is heading back to the bed.
"Jaafar!"
"If I can't sit beside you, I want to, at least, cuddle with something that smells like you," he counters, flopping onto the bed once again with a smirk.
"Guys, he is going to be so embarrassed in the morning," you laugh, already imagining the chaos that is to unfold once the morning sun shines.
plz do a breakfast live stream
we need to see this
im already clipping for edits
You continue discussing topics with your fans for a view moments, happily revealing in the silence that Jaafar has allowed. You can hear his soft breathing and quiet movements in the background as you respond to different comments.
"Please come to bed," Jaafar pouts, lifting his head up to display only a bedhead of curls and dark, chocolatey doe-eyes.
"In a minute," you say, stretching slightly as you consider ending the live.
He throws himself back in frustration at your answer. "You were supposed to say, of course."
You laugh and ignore him, rolling your eyes once more at his dramatics. "Greatest actor, people."
"I'm so tired," he says again.
"Then, go to sleep. I'll go to the living room, so you can turn the lights out," you respond.
He lifts up again onto his elbows as his eyes track you, taking your figure in.
"No, don't, I want you here," he says, patting the spot beside him.
boy needs sleep
hes so cute
ughhhhhhhhh
"I'm not super tired, though, J," you answer honestly, looking back towards him.
That same damning smirk and mischously glisten returns in his eyes, and you're too late at preventing his non-filtered words.
"I know something that can make you tired."
You flip your head back around towards the camera, that same burn returning in your face as your heart does flips, undistinguishable from embarrassment to shock.
what happened to PR training
where's the edits
GOOD GODH JAAFARRR
this was not in the movies
what was in that boy's drink
"Jaafar!" as all you can manage to say as your eyes frantically scan your comments, Jaafar just laughing in the background and rolling onto his side, clearly too tired to do anything of such sorts but not tired enough to stop teasing you. You throw a beauty blender at him.
"Okay guys, I'm gonna go to sleep, I will see you all later!" you speak, voice shaking with utter disbelief.
we know u aint going to bed
suuuuureeeeee
see u 9 months later
he's so lovesick
You quickly end the live, dropping your phone onto your vanity as you stand up and cross the room.
"The morning is going to be so embarrassing," you say, playfully hitting Jaafar's chest as you sit beside him, his hands immediately going to your waist.
"Let's just worry about that later," he says, eyes closed, burrowing his head into your thigh.
I’m so glad this community is waking Tf up about the parasocial behaviour that’s been going on, you’re all as bad as those who treated Michael poorly. Quit pretending to be these virtuous people because you’re not.
I need everyone to take a step BACK and realise that a lot of your behaviour has been genuinely insane, let’s start off with jaafar and maddie, the way you two treat this couple is fucking wild, the concern trolling and virtue signaling is out of this world, A LOT of you don’t care about maddies past posts supporting Israel, a lot of you are simply jealous over the fact she’s with jaafar, it’s blatant by the fact all you lot talk about IS the relationship and her appearance and how you don’t get how they’ve been together for so long and aren’t married. The infantilisation of jaafar is also wild, he’s not some poor little boy who isn’t aware of what’s going on around him, Quit acting like he is.
Now with jermajesty and Randy jr, the fact that two days ago you lot were basically jumping these man’s leg like a bunch of horny dogs and now bc they(liked a post????) you’re cancelling them?Are we fucking mad? 😭 it’s insane, so what they liked a post??
This is how ik that as a society we need to hop off the internet because we are too quick to sensationalise and then cancel someone within days.
After doing quite a bit of research, what i've deduced is that we might be reaching just a tad. Jermajesty liked his friend's post about his dad. Now, given the circumstances it is a bit odd. I am by no means, in support of Diddy OR the things he's done. I do, however, think it's necessary to look at things from all angles before we decide that someone is to be considered scum.
Diddy's son, King Combs, is undoubtedly biased. At the end of the day, that's still his father. Jermajesty’s role in King's life, is clearly that of a childhood friend. There are pictures of them together all the time when they were young. Like...everywhere. I don't think him liking that post was indicative of support for Diddy, more so for his friend that was/is clearly going through something.
You have to remember, these boys grew up together, and I am fairly certain Sean Combs didn't let them see who he really was. It may have been hard to believe that someone you've known, literally your whole life could be so vile. That being said, I don’t want to draw anymore conclusions than that. No because of denial, but because we genuinely have no clue about how Jermajesty actually feels about it.
My next point is that we can't really figure anyone out through a screen twin. Especially someone as private as Jermajesty. Yes, it was a little jarring to see, but again, we dont know everything. Id also like to highlight that I scrubbed both accounts while digging, and Jermajesty hasn't like a post of King's regarding Diddy since that post in october 2025. He doesn't even follow anyone one else in diddy's family BUT King. I think discretion is important. We're kinda grasping at straws here, and I see a lot of people coming to conclusions before taking the time to think.
Again, I do NAWT support Sean Combs or his behavior, nor am I excusing or apologizing for it. I just implore you all to remember that these are real people with lives who have to deal with shit the same way we do. I genuinely do not think they expected this from someone they were raised up by. That's really all I have to say on the matter.
As far as Jaafar is concerned: my point as still stands. There's no way of knowing who the hell you're dealing with until you've actually met them.
His lady's political views can NAWT be something he didn't know about. I think she's weird, yes. But i think he's weird too. Hes been with the woman for 10 years. He definitely knows how she feels about everything by now.
And before we get on the "these are real people" train. I'd like to remind you, my heart, what we were doing BEFORE the news dropped. Writing stories about said people that we didn't and still don't, know from a can of paint. Some people created whole personalities in their heads for these people and threw and tantrum when they found out that they didnt fit that mold. I do not support zionism, not even a little bit. FREE PALESTINE TILL IT'S BACKWARDS. But the fact of the matter is, there's nothing you can do to change how that woman is.
All this to say, you can either imagine these the way you want, or walk away from it completely. They aren't going to stop being who they are because it upsets us.
Genre: smut, lil fluff?, Cockwarming, overstim, creampie, aftercare
In which Jermajesty gets tired of your attitude..
The silence in the house was loud, broken only by the aggressive tapping of plastic buttons and the muffled, chaotic chatter leaking out of Jermajesty’s headset. It was a rare day off, a stretch of time where the two of you were finally just home. No obligations, no traveling, just total freedom.
You had been looking forward to it all week, craving nothing more than your boyfriends undivided attention, but instead, you had spent the last five hours watching the back of his head. He was entirely locked into his PlayStation, completely tuned out from the rest of the world. And from you.
You had tried being nice. You walked into the room earlier, leaning against the edge of his desk just to see if he'd blink.
"Baby, you hungry?" you had asked.
"Yeah," he murmured, his thumb flying across the joystick.
"Want me to order some takeout?"
"Yeah."
"You want me to just throw a brick through the TV?"
"Yeah."
He hadn't even processed it. His eyes were glued to the screen, his jaw set in that sharp, focused line he got when he was playing with his brothers. You were completely invisible to him, a secondary thought to whatever match he was trying to win. The irritation that had been simmering in your chest all afternoon finally boiled over.
You didn't say another word. You stepped up right beside his gaming chair, reached out, and ripped the controller straight out of his grip.
Jermajesty’s hands gripped empty air. He froze, blinking in absolute bewilderment as you spun on your heel and marched right out of the room with the plastic controller clutched in your hand.
"Baby? What the fuck? What are you doing?"
You heard the heavy clatter of his headset hitting the desk. His deep voice echoed down the hallway as he followed you, his footsteps loud and impatient on the hardwood. You ignored him, going downstairs with your jaw clenched.
"Y/N. Where you going," he commanded, catching up to you at the bottom of the steps. He lunged forward, his large hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back, his other hand reaching for the controller. "I was in the middle of a session. Why would you do that?"
"Because I'm sick of playing second fucking choice to a video game, Jermajesty!" you snapped, violently wrenching your wrist out of his grip and pulling the controller out of his reach. "All you do is sit there. I ask to spend time with you, and it's always 'just one more minute,' and you know damn well you don't mean it. I'm tired of it."
He sucked his teeth, and rolled his eyes. "Bro, we are not doing this right now. Give it back. Let me just finish this one run and I promise we can do whatever you want. We can watch a movie, order food, whatever. Just let me finish."
"Oh, so it takes me stealing your game for you to actually look at me?" The hurt in your chest morphed into pure defiance. "You want it so bad? Here Take it."
You threw it. You hadn't meant to throw it *that* hard, but the adrenaline running through your veins took over.
Jermajesty ducked his head with effortless reflexes, and the controller sailed right past him, smashing violently against the hallway wall. It hit the floor with a loud crack, splitting open, the plastic buttons scattering across the floor. Silence descended on the hallway.
Jermajesty slowly looked down at the shattered plastic, then slowly looked back up at you. His eyes, usually relaxed and warm, had gone completely dark. The easygoing posture was gone, replaced by something predatory, and demanding. You realized instantly that you had fucked up.
You turned to bolt toward the living room, but you didn't even make it two steps. His arm wrapped around your waist, lifting you off your feet before you could even draw breath to scream. He hoisted you up, tossing you over his broad shoulder.
"Jermajesty! Put me down!" you gasped, your palms swatting fruitlessly against his back as he carried you back up the stairs.
He didn't say a single word. He carried you into the bedroom, set you down on your feet just long enough to turn the lock on the door with a definitive *click*, and then walked over to his gaming chair.
He reached down, tugging his sweatpants and boxers down past his hips, before sitting back down in the seat. He leaned back, his knees spread wide, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that made your knees turn to water.
"Get your ass over here," he growled, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. "And take those shorts off."
The defiance you had felt downstairs evaporated into pure heat. You swallowed hard, taking a hesitant step toward him, standing right between his thighs. "Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"
"I don't want to hear it right now," he cut you off, his tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. "Strip. Now."
With trembling fingers, you slid your shorts and panties down, stepping out of them until you were left in nothing but the oversized white tee of his that you had stolen earlier.
Jermajesty didn't hesitate. He grabbed your hips with both hands, his grip firm enough to leave marks, and lifted you up. He guided you down, lining you up with his dick before slowly, deliberately sinking you down onto his full length.
A ragged gasp tore from your throat, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the sheer fullness of him stretched you open. He let out a low, rough groan against your neck, his chest heaving.
"Stay right there," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. He gave your thigh a firm, warning tap. "And don't make a single fucking sound."
To your absolute horror, Jermajesty spun his chair back toward the desk. He picked up his backup controller, slid his headset back over his ears, and unmuted his mic, acting as if he wasn't buried deep inside you.
"Yeah, I'm back," he said into the mic, his voice remarkably steady, though his breathing was just a fraction deeper than usual. "My fault. Had a little distraction."
You whimpered, your head dropping onto his shoulder. He was huge, filling you out completely, and the sensation of just resting on him while he sat completely still was driving you insane. Your muscles involuntarily pulsed around him, trying to find some sort of friction.
You felt Jermajesty tense beneath you, a sharp intake of breath escaping his lips as you squeezed him.
"Y/N's just sitting with me," Jermajesty told his brother on the line, his tone smooth but dripping with an underlying condescension that was meant entirely for you.
He leaned his head sideways, pressing a lingering, biting kiss to your bare shoulder. "Apparently, I haven't been giving my baby enough attention today. Right, mama?"
You bit your lip, hot tears of frustration and arousal pricking your eyes. You needed to move.
The pressure in your lower stomach was building too fast. You experimentally hoisted your hips up an inch, trying to slide against him, but Jermajesty's hand instantly came down in a sharp, stinging smack against your bare ass.
The sound cracked through the room. You let out a loud cry, completely forgetting the headset.
Jermajesty shifted his mic up, leaning his lips directly against your ear. "What did I tell you about being still?" he whispered darkly.
"Please," you breathed, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt. "Jer, I can't... it's too much."
"You're doing great for me. Just hold it," he murmured, his tone shifting into a cruel, sweet praise that only made your head spin faster.
He went back to the game, his legs beginning to bounce slightly as the match intensified. The subtle, vibrating motion bounced his tip directly against your sweetest spot over and over again. Your eyes rolled back, your toes curling as you buried your face in his neck, trying to suffocate the whimpers tearing out of you.
"Yo, is she good?" a voice chuckled through his headset. You recognized it instantly—it was Randy. The realization that his brother was on the other end of the line while you were quite literally attached to Jermajesty made your face burn with a mix of shame and intense pleasure.
"Yeah, she's fine," Jermajesty replied, his voice laced with a dark amusement you could feel vibrating in his chest. "Her stomach's just turning. She's pretty full right now."
You wanted to die. Before you could even process the tease, Jermajesty decided to punish you further. While keeping his hands firmly on the controller, he began to subtly tilt his pelvis, delivering agonizingly slow, shallow thrusts into you from below.
"Tell me what's wrong, baby," he taunted softly, his eyes still locked on the television screen as his thumbs worked the joysticks. "I'm right here."
You couldn't take it. Your mind was turning to mush, your body completely at the mercy of his slow, torturous pace. He was nearing the end of the match, his movements getting a little more frantic as he tried to secure the win.
"Hold onto my shoulders," he ordered suddenly.
You obeyed instantly, throwing your arms around his neck. In one powerful movement, Jermajesty stood up straight from the chair, lifting your entire weight with him. He braced your thighs against his hips, his breath catching as he began to ram up into you with heavy, unrestricted force, still trying to play with one hand. A loud, broken moan escaped you, completely unmuted.
"Alright, bro, I'm out. I gotta check on her," Jermajesty grunted into the mic. He didn't even wait for a reply; he reached over, slammed the power button on the console, and tossed his headset onto the desk. The room fell into absolute silence, save for your ragged breathing.
He walked over to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before pushing your knees all the way back to your chest. He looked down at you, his chest heaving, his eyes burning. "You've got a stubborn ass head, you know that?"
He leaned down, pressing a rough, possessive kiss to your lips. "Don't you cum till I tell you to."
He dove back into you, his pace agonizingly slow but incredibly deep. Every single stroke felt like it was hitting your spine. Your mouth hung open, your brain completely short-circuiting. You tried to pull away to lessen the intensity,
but Jermajesty growled, his hand wrapping firmly around your throat—not cutting off your air, but pinning you down, forcing you to take every single inch.
"Daddy, please I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" you sobbed, overstimulated and completely undone.
"Hold it," he demanded, his voice low and vibrating against your ear. "Don't do it."
But it was too late. Two heavy, brutal thrusts later, your walls spasmed violently. A loud, high-pitched wail tore from your throat as a massive, shattering orgasm ripped through you, coating him completely. Your body went entirely limp against the sheets.
Jermajesty pulled out with a dark chuckle, shaking his head as he laid back against the pillows, propping his hands behind his head. He looked over at you, completely unbothered, a smug smirk resting on his lips. He patted his thigh.
"Get up here."
"I can't... my legs," you whined, your vision blurry.
"Too bad. Should've kept that attitude under control downstairs. Come here."
You crawled over to him, your body shaking as you straddled his lap once more. Jermajesty gripped your waist, helping you lift yourself up before sliding you back down onto him. You began to slowly ride him, your movements lazy and uncoordinated, but he didn't mind. His hands rested on your hips, guiding your rhythm.
"Mhm... good girl," he praised, his voice softening into that warm, affectionate tone you loved. "Just like that."
When your legs finally gave out completely,
Jermajesty caught you, pulling you into a crushing bear hug. He flipped you beneath him, burying his face in your neck as he took over the pace, delivering heavy, grounding thrusts that had you seeing stars all over again.
"You sorry, baby?" he murmured against your skin, a heavy smack landing against your thigh.
"Yes, Jermajesty," you gasped.
*Smack.*
"That's not my name What is it?"
"I'm sorry... Daddy," you sobbed out, completely surrendered.
"That's my girl. You love me?"
"I love you so much," you cried, your hands clutching at his tight curls.
"I love you too, baby girl."
He caught your jaw, pulling you into a deep, bruising kiss. Your body tightened one last time, pulling another ragged orgasm from you just as Jermajesty let out a low groan, locking his hips against yours as he filled you with his own.
He didn’t say anything right away. He just pulled you in close, tucking your head right under his chin while his chest heaved against yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. His fingers tangled gently in your hair, and just stayed like that for a minute, pressing a couple of soft, lingering kisses into the top of your head while he waited for your racing heartbeat to finally slow down.
"I'm gonna pull out, okay?" a breathless whisper brushed against your ear. You managed a weak nod against his chest.
Firm hands gripped your hips, slowly lifting and settling your weight onto the soft mattress. Your eyes fluttered shut, your brain desperately trying to come back to reality while his eyes studied your face, making sure you were okay.
A warm palm rubbed soothing circles over your stomach, followed by a trail of tender kisses that started on your cheek, moved down the column of your neck, and mapped the length of your torso before finally reaching your leaking warmth.
Your heavy, exhausted legs were hooked over broad shoulders, and a soft gasp left your lips as his mouth found your sensitive clit. Thumbs spread your outer folds wide open, exposing you completely as he devoured you.
You whined, completely overstimulated, fingers reaching down to grip tight curls as that familiar, tight knot coiled in your stomach all over again.
"Baby..." you moaned, instinctively trying to close your thighs around his head to make the pressure stop.
Instead, large hands clamped onto your inner thighs, pinning your legs wide as the pace of his tongue quickened, pushing you right back over the edge. Looking down through half-lidded eyes, you caught him staring right back up at you.
"Mhm."
A shattered cry tore from your throat as you came all over his face. Jermajesty lapped up every drop of your release before pulling away, leaning up to press a slow, sweet kiss to your lips while his hands gently caressed your sensitive, trembling body.
Jermajesty sputtered, coughing and wiping his face while you burst out laughing.
"You tired, mama?" he murmured. You could only manage a lazy, drained nod, completely out of words.
"Mhm, I bet. Let me go get the water started."
Before long, Jermajesty came back into the room, scooped your limp body up into his arms, and carried you into the bathroom where a warm, bubble-filled tub was waiting. He gently lowered your aching body into the water, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.
You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady, calming beat of his heart while his large, wet hands rubbed soothing circles into your stomach.
"Hey," he murmured softly, kissing the side of your head. "I know sex isn't an apology. I really am sorry, baby. I shouldn't have been ignoring you like that all day. I never want you to feel like you come second to anything. If I get like that again... you can just slap me."
You let out a weak giggle, looking up at him over your shoulder. "Apology accepted. I'm not going to hit you. It's bad enough I broke your controller... I'm sorry. I'll buy you a new one."
Jermajesty smirked, "Don't worry about it. I've got like five backups in the closet. Besides... I got my get-back by breaking you. So we're even." He puckered his lips, leaning in for a sweet kiss. Instead of giving it to him, you scooped up a handful of bubbles and smeared them right across his mouth.
"Oh, okay," he growled playfully, a dangerous spark returning to his eyes as he gripped your waist under the water. ""Oh you wanna get fucked up again don't you?"
synopsis: you go live on instagram for fun and your freakass boyfriend won’t leave you alone.
requested by annon.
the glow from your phone illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. you're propped up against a mountain of pillows, hair wrapped in a silk scarf, comfortable in your favorite oversized sweatshirt. it's late, past midnight, but the instagram live request notifications kept flooding in until you finally gave in.
"alright, alright, i'm live," you laugh, tapping the button. "y'all are so impatient."
within seconds, comments start rolling in:
"it's about time!"
"you look cozy af"
"what you watching?"
you shift the phone to show the tv briefly. "just rewatching insecure for the millionth time. this episode gets me every time."
comments pour in:
"the thanksgiving episode?!"
"issa and lawrence forever 😭"
"molly needs to chill sometimes fr"
you nod. "see, y'all get it. molly be doing too much sometimes, like girl, relax. lawrence was wrong but issa wasn't exactly innocent either…"
you're mid-sentence when you feel the bed dip behind you. a pair of arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back against a warm chest.
"don't answer that," jermajesty's voice is low, right by your ear.
you jump slightly, laughing. "bae, i'm on live."
"so?" he nuzzles into your neck, completely unconcerned.
the comments explode:
"omg who is that"
"jermajesty?!?!?"
"the way he said so???"
"protective king energy"
you roll your eyes playfully. "y'all calm down. this is just jermajesty being his usual annoying self."
"annoying?" he tightens his grip around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder now. "i don't think i'm annoying. i think i'm affectionate."
the comments go wild:
"🤤🤤"
"he can be affectionate with me anytime"
"the voice??? i'm weak"
you try to continue your original topic. "stop talking 'bout my man. anyway, as i was saying about insecure—"
"why you talking about some tv show when i'm right here?" jermajesty's hands start roaming under your sweatshirt, tracing circles on your stomach.
you squirm, trying to maintain composure. "because that's what we were discussing before you interrupted."
comments are flooding in faster than you can read:
"the hands???!??!"
"he's not playing fair"
"end the live before we see something we can't unsee"
"or don't end it 👀"
"jermajesty, stop playing," you whisper, trying to push his hands away subtly.
"i'm not playing," he murmurs against your neck, his breath warm. "i'm bored. and you look good. and i want attention."
the comments are a mix of laughter and warnings:
"he said what he said"
"boy she on live"
"this is not the time or place"
"actually i think it's the perfect time and place"
you clear your throat, trying to steer the conversation back. "so uh… what's your favorite episode? mine is probably when they went to that malibu trip and—"
jermajesty's hand slides higher under your sweatshirt. "remember that time we went to malibu? you wore that red bikini…"
your eyes widen. "jermajesty!"
comments are going insane:
"omg he did not"
"the audacity"
"he tryna get y'all in trouble"
"i'm living for this"
you adjust the camera angle slightly away from you. "alright y'all, i think we're gonna have to end this here before—"
"before what?" he's grinning against your skin now, fully aware of the effect he's having. "before i remind everyone how we spent that weekend?"
comments are barely readable they're coming in so fast:
"he's really doing this"
"end it girl end it"
"no let him cook"
"i'm praying for y'all's internet connection right now"
you cover your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself. "jermajesty, i swear to god—"
"what?" his voice drops even lower. "don't act like you don't remember. that balcony, the sunrise, your legs wrapped around—"
you abruptly end the live, dropping the phone onto the bed.
"jermajesty!" you turn to face him, cheeks hot.
he's just grinning, completely unrepentant. "what? i was just reminiscing."
"you were about to expose our entire business to 15,000 people!"
he pulls you closer. "good. let them be jealous." his lips find yours, and for a moment, you forget about the live, the comments, everything.
when you pull away, you playfully push his shoulder. "you're the worst."
"the worst that you love," he corrects, already moving to kiss you again.
you laugh, shaking your head. "definitely the worst that i love."
side note: this does not reflect how I believe jermajesty is irl. this is purely for fun. (i think he’s the sweetest.) my first time making a moodboard too so be kind pls.
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.
synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)
thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3
Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.
It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.
Harmless.
There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.
Taking you against the bathroom door, hand clasped over your mouth to conceal your whines of pleasure. Or over the kitchen counter after his fiancée left for work. Or even in the same bed his wife to be slept in after you left, legs wobbling and a familiar throb between your thighs.
He knew it was wrong — especially since you were his brother’s friend. Someone who had been in his life since he was in his early 20’s — a constant reminder of something he could’ve had if he didn’t get into another relationship.
He had loved you from the second he set eyes on you. When Jermajesty introduced you both on a casual day, his heart ignited in desire. A want, no a need, for you so strong he physically felt a visceral reaction to you every time he saw you. Alas, he was harshly reminded you were meant to be friends, his brother’s friend, someone in close knit with the family — not someone to be romantically involved with. He moved on — physically, never emotionally.
He and Maddie, his future bride, weren’t the most thrilling of couples. They were simple, basic, easy — their marriage something to just say they’d done. Often lacking chemistry and connection, and that feeling deep in your soul where you know the person you’re with is the one.
Something he’d always felt for you.
The way he felt when you’d look at him, your pretty doe eyes peering up at him like he hung the stars, he could physically feel his heart thumping in his heart every time.
The affair started on Jermajesty’s birthday.
You got drunk — way too wasted, way too quick. The liquor hitting you harder than you expected as you stumbled through the Jackson home, bumping into walls, clutching onto door frame’s as you attempted to make it to the bathroom, before colliding straight into Jaafar, fairly tipsy himself.
He had been with Maddie a little over 3 years — bought their first home, talking of children and marriage, finally settling down.
Until he decided bending you over the sink and fucking you senseless sounded like a better idea.
And from there it blossomed.
Fucking you anywhere and everywhere — no matter the time. And every excuse was made.
Late home? He was on set. Or was he fucking you in his car in an empty parking lot?
Didn’t answer his phone? He was just busy! Busy stuffing your mouth full of his cock, more like.
He hated the way he felt no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. Just the sheer thrill of it — the excitement that filled his chest at thought of when he’d next be burying himself deep inside you.
He’d tell you, as he thought himself, ‘It’s harmless sex’. Something you’d laugh at — despite the cruel reality of it.
And the sex only got better when he and Maddie started fighting. Every day it was a new argument, brutal disputes that would only bring him back into your arms every time — love for her dying, and desire for you blooming.
The thought clouded his mind on set.
Standing under the bright lights, eyes burning from the sheer intensity as well as the fatigue that plagued him — not only from his demanding career, but visions of you keeping him awake, too.
When the director called for a short break, he let out a sigh of relief, shrugging a heavily bedazzled jacket from his tired shoulders, handing it to a nearby costume designer. Raking a hand through his tussled curls, he moved sluggishly to the sidelines of the set, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a slow, much needed, chug.
“Hey, you.”
He hated the way his brain automatically associated the sound of clicking shoes against the hard floor with you — his excitement dying slowly in his chest as he turned to meet his fiancée’s frame.
“Oh, hey.” He spoke, voice flat and uniform.
Maddie hesitated before speaking, eyebrows furrowed neatly into her forehead, “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” He brushed off, shaking his head, taking a firm seat in a chair with ‘J.Jackson’ neatly embroidered into the back, with a sigh, “What you doing here anyways?”
“Glad to see you too.” She huffed sarcastically, “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
She handed over a brown paper bag, heavy in his hand as he took it from her. Jaafar peeled it open, stomach rumbling as the sudden reminder to eat filled his now conscious brain.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jaafar peered up at her apprehensively, “I just—nothing it’s fine. Thank you.”
Maddie’s expression fell, “No. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, “I just don’t like turkey.”
“What?” She hissed, snatching the bag quickly, staring down at the bleak sandwich sat sadly inside, “You do.”
“I definitely don’t.” He breathed out a laugh, “You have it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.”
“You loved turkey when we first started dating.” She fired back, attempting to win back her pride.
“Yeah, 8 years ago.”
Maddie scoffed, “Fine. I’ll eat it. Go eat your shit vending machine food, and not the meal your fiancée worked so hard to make for you.”
Jaafar laughed in disbelief, “Maddie, it’s a sandwich. No offence, but I sincerely doubt you worked that hard.”
“What the hell, Jaafar? Honestly, I can’t with you sometimes, I just feel—“ “Jaafarrrr.”
Maddie noticed the way he perked up at the sound of your voice.
She rolled her eyes at the sight of you — a tiny, black mini skirt and a white blouse clad to your frame, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered in. You looked good without needing to try — something Jaafar always admired about you.
“Hey!” He beamed, rising from his chair, heading straight for you without a second thought, that dangerously beautiful smile adorning his face, “What are you doing here?”
The tone difference in the same question he’d asked to you and to Maddie was clear — something hard to miss.
He met you halfway across set, pulling you into a tight embrace, large arms wrapping around your frame, as you laced your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, Jaafar’s heart raced as you looked up at him — there were those pretty eyes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought you some lunch.” You admitted, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you handed him a gorgeously packaged box.
The smell hit him before he opened it — perfectly cooked steak, with freshly steamed greens and a side of mac n’ cheese. He groaned in delight.
“Your favourite.” You added.
If it wasn’t for the Jaafar blocking your view — you would’ve been met with the coldest, most seething gaze Maddie could muster.
She had been jealous of you from the start — she hated how much Jaafar loved being around you, how you got on like a house on fire, and proven just in that moment, how well you knew him.
“Oh, my God, this smells incredible.” Jaafar admitted, eyes flickering from your own to the food, “Thank you, princess.” He whispered, his voice low enough for you only to hear, “I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
“Contain yourself, handsome.” You returned the hushed tone, “Later.”
Jaafar’s eyes darkened at the thrilling idea of getting to kiss you in secret later — visions of ravishing you filling his mind. A different kind of hunger fuelling in his heart.
“I already made him lunch.”
You heard her before you saw her — Maddie’s stern voice from behind Jaafar, gaze still sharp.
“Oh, man.” Your voice a teasing disappointment, “Sorry, J, I didn’t know. What a waste.” Your faux frown hit his face, heart twisting at the idea of your upset.
“No, no. It’s fine. Maddie’s gonna have the other one, right?”
“No, I sai—“
“Aw, thanks, Maddie!” You grinned, excitable voice hitting both of their ears once again, smiling so innocently that your intentions seemed so pure, “At least you can have your favourite now.”
Jaafar smiled down at you, grabbing the plastic fork laid neatly next to his glorious meal, before digging in, “Oh, wow, this is amazing.”
“Made it myself.” You admitted, “Worked very hard for you, Jaaf.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jaafar couldn’t contain the way he smiled as you giggled proudly, walking alongside, mouth full of the food you kindly prepared for him, back to where he once sat, “Whatcha’ got planned for today then?”
“Figured I’d sit around all day and watch you sweat.”
Maddie clenched her jaw at the way you both laughed loudly — a real, genuine laugh falling from Jaafar’s lips.
“Sounds like a riveting day.” He teased, resuming back in his seat.
You grinned, “Oh, definitely. A real thriller.”
“Nice play on word—“ “Jaafar, can we talk?”
Maddie’s harsh voice cut your laughter short — a sudden intense atmosphere blossoming. Jaafar’s smile fell quickly, eyes meeting hers for the first time since you arrived as if her presence wasn’t recognisable.
“What?”
“Alone.”
You bit back a grin — every argument they had brought Jaafar closer to you. Sick, but you loved it.
“I’ll go wait in your dressing room, J.”
To Maddie, she was silently thankful for your departure, however, completely missing your sensual undertone — alluding to the very man, she was subconsciously pushing further away from her and more towards you, that you’d be waiting for him in a quiet, secluded place where he could take you like he always did.
You parted from the tension quickly — sauntering away, hips swinging involuntarily, your back facing the upcoming argument you knew would arise.
Maddie didn’t miss the way Jaafar watched you walk away.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Her voice forced a foul expression onto Jaafar’s face, “What now?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Jaafar.” Maddie snapped, finger pointing accusingly at him, “What is her problem?”
Jaafar feigned innocence quickly, “What do you mean? She just brought me lunch.”
“So did I, but you turned that down real fast. But, when she does it, it’s like she’s moved fucking mountains for you?” Maddie’s voice got icier with each sentence — and louder, forcing passing members of staff to side-eye the growing dispute.
“Lower your voice.” He hissed, eyes darting around, “You brought me something I didn’t like. Sorry if that offends you.”
“It’s not about that, Jaafar, it’s about how fucking weird you are around each other.” She snapped, voice refusing to lower, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Jaafar hid the way adrenaline thumped through his veins at the idea of her possibly finding out well. The thought of filling you to the brim with his thick cock suddenly polluting his brain — blood rushing between the very manhood he wanted to stuff you full of.
“Hello?” Maddie sassed, face an unyielding frosty expression.
“No, of course not. Stop asking me this.” Jaafar lied straight his teeth, a lie told so many times it felt natural now, “You always paint her out to be a horrible person, but she’s always so good to me. I don’t know why you can’t just be nice to her.”
“Because she’s all up on my fiancé every five seconds.”
“We’re just close.” Jaafar spoke, a statement not entirely untrue, “Just leave her alone for once.”
“Maybe tell her that.” Maddie spat, “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“And there we go. Always at her defence.” She laughed in aggravation, “I’m your fiancé, y’know? It’s me you’re marrying.”
I wish it wasn’t.
The sentence hit his brain faster than he expected — a subconscious response to the argument and his secretive infatuation with you.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jaafar shot back, rising to his feet quickly, “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.” He wasted no time walking down the hallway to his dressing room, following in your footsteps
“Jaafar, what? No.”
“Do not follow me.”
His voice, a usual calm and collected tone, was now snarled and bitter — a declaration of his frustration. He meant every word he said.
Jaafar stormed through the hall — feet stomping against the ground harder with each step. His anger bubbling over the edge as his chest heaved.
He slammed open the dressing room door — agitation oozing from him like no other. His eyes immediately landed on your relaxed frame, longing on the sofa that was pressed against the back of the room. You met his furious gaze.
“You okay, baby?”
Your sweet, calming voice flooded his frenzied brain — the nickname hitting him straight between the legs. He strode towards you quickly, hands immediately cradling your face as he smashed your lips together in a frantic kiss. You squeaked in surprise at the sudden connection — hands grasping at his tensed arms, before melting into his mouth.
“Need you. Now.” He mumbled against your lips, “Need to feel you.”
“Jaaf.” You whined, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your mouth had a familiar tingle radiating up your spine at the anticipation.
His lips worked magic against yours once more — moving with calculated precision as he pulled you to your feet. Tongues and teeth clashing as the passion intensified in your lip-locking — spit and swollen lips the only thing evident on your mouth as he moved his kisses down your neck. His hand, once pressed against the warm of your cheek, splayed across the nape of your neck, as he worked his way down your exposed chest.
“This gotta come off.” He muttered, flicking the buttons of your top open with ease, pulling it off your body and throwing it to the floor, your plump breasts filling his gaze.
His name fell from your mouth in a desperate plea as his lips attached to your bare tits — an erect nipple swirled around his tongue as he sucked. Your head thrust back — whines now filling the room as your back pressed into the makeup counter.
Jaafar pulled away from your breasts, lips colliding with your own once more as his eager hand travelled down your body — fingers nestling right where you needed him. His fingers slipped under your skirt, finding comfort in the dip of your slit, collecting your essence on his fingers from where you drooled through your panties.
“Jaafar, please.” You whimpered, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Tell me how much you want it, pretty.” Jaafar whispered against you, face now flush against your own, “Tell me all about it, baby.”
His fingers rubbed tight, precise circles over your clothed clit, slick with your arousal, eliciting the sweetest noises from your pretty mouth — ones that hand Jaafar twitching in his slacks.
“Mm—Need you—Aah! so bad, J,” You cried, hands clutching at the thick of his bicep, “M’Wanna feel you so bad.”
“That’s it, sweetie, talk to me.” He coaxed, mouth suckling at the exposure of your neck, marking up your skin with the graze of his teeth.
Jaafar continued to work his fingers onto you — nimble digits rubbing the painful ache between your legs away as he relaxed you, arousing you ready for his length. His supple lips pressed soft, delicate kisses to any piece of your skin he was unveiled to — only adding to the gorgeous whines of pleasure that flooded his ears.
You leant over to press a sweet kiss to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, “Please, Jaaf, need to feel you.”
Jaafar didn’t give you time to change your mind.
He ripped his body from yours in a hurry — trembling hands from adrenaline and anger unbuckling his slacks, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cold air hit the warmth of his cock, large hands instantaneously coming to wrap around the sheer length of him, pumping himself in relief.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately — swiftly pressing your stomach to the counter, poking your half-exposed ass to him. He pushed your skirt further up your backside, now bunching at your hips.
“I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, baby.” He revealed, looking up at you from the mirror before both of you, revelling in the way you gasped as the fat of his cockend slid between the wetness of your folds, “Too fucking angry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Your sweet, deliciously soft voice calmed his fury ever so slightly, the eyes that had him weak in the knees meeting his own in the reflection, “Use me. Take me. Just fuck me, please.”
The erotic admission had him pushing into you faster than he ever does — a loud cry falling past your lips as your vision blurred, hand slamming against the glass in a fist as he stretched you. Jaafar usually would take his time with you — work you open with his fingers, make you cum a few times before entering you. But not now. The flaming anger than burst inside of him had him selfish — not wanting to waste a single second before filling you to the brim.
And that he did. Your cunt throbbed around the size of him — girth and length forcing your slick little cunt open for him so briskly it had you biting on your lip so hard you tasted blood.
“That’s my good girl.” Jaafar growled out, a large hand stroking the plush of your hips that he gripped with the pad of his thumb, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful full of me.”
“Jaafar, please.” You mewled, tears brimming in your twinkling eyes.
“I know, I know, baby.” He reassured, dragging his cock out of you slowly, “Just feel me.”
He set a brutal pace — one that rendered you speechless from the first thrust. Only blabbering moans of undeniable pleasure releasing from your mouth as his tip kissed the smooth of your cervix, his cock rammed so deep you forget how to speak.
Jaafar grunted wildly behind you — his usual gentle love-making a distant memory as he fucked you as if you were a cock hungry slut. Something he could use for his own personal pleasure.
Right now, you were absolutely that and more.
“Fucking hate her.” He seethed behind you, grip tightening around your hips, before sliding up your back and taking your hair in a tight grasp, pulling you flush against his heaving chest, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”
The nefarious admission had your cunt clenching around him — knowing he was fucking you brainless whilst badmouthing his fiancée, who you also despised, had arousal coursing through your veins more so than before.
Jaafar noticed, “Oh, you naughty girl.” He breathed, breath hot against your ear, “You love fucking a taken man, huh?”
“Only you, Jaafar.”
Jaafar couldn’t suppress the whimper that fell from his lips, head falling into the crook of your neck, mumbling a curse under his breath at your huffed submission to him — cock throbbing inside you. Every drag of his dick had you whining underneath him — eyes rolling back as he repeatedly abused the sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh, princess?” He coaxed, “Look at me.” His large hand gripped your cheeks in a harsh grasp, before pushing two fingers into your agape mouth, “Suck.”
You willingly did as he pleased — suckling at the thick of his digits, the tang of your essence still lingering on his fingers flooding your tastebuds, whining at the taste of yourself. Your tongue swirled around him, eager to please, earning a hum of approval from the heaving man behind you, his pace never faltering.
“Jaafar.” Your voice muffled, mouth still stuffed full of him, a desperate, needy tone in your words, “Harder, p’wease.”
“Y’sound so fuckin’ sexy with your mouth full.” Jaafar groaned, eyes locked on the way tears slipped from your wide eyes, cascading down your face, a collecting of wetness of your tears and spit pooling at your chin.
Jaafar pulled out of you swiftly, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness, before briskly shifting you to face him, pulling your body on top of the counter. He entered you once more, a blissful moan falling past your lips. His hands splayed against the fat of your hips against, pulling you down onto the hardness of his cock — bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you marched every thrust with an erotic whinge.
“‘Gonna cum, Jaaf.” You revealed, eyes glued to the milky white essence that pooled at the base of Jaafar’s cock as it disappeared repeatedly into your sex.
“Give it to me, princess.” He coaxed, fingers flying to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the aching nub, “Cum with me, baby.”
Your orgasm crept down your spine, settling in the low of your abdomen, the relief of a much needed climax arriving, a loud, demanding moan leaving your mouth as you chased your high at full speed. Jaafar wasn’t far behind you — pace now quickening as he too chased his orgasm, wanting nothing more right now to fill you to the brim with his fertile seed.
Slam!
“What the fuck?”
The door to the dressing room swung open — an aggressive bang that had both of your heads spinning towards the noise.
Now you were truly fucked.
Maddie stood in the door way, utterly mortified and shocked to her core at the sight of you — pussy stuffed full of her fiancée’s cock — sweat glistening off of both your bodies, chests heaving.
In a blacked-out state of intense arousal, your wicked mouth betrayed
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jaafar.”
And he listened.
In his own personal lust, the sound of his distraught fiancée’s shouting, catching him in a comprising act fell on deaf ears, his hips, that had once stilled, resumed once more.
Your head fell back once more as his pace picked up — your orgasm climbing back up quicker now, pure thrill and adrenaline coursing through you like an addict snorting a fresh line.
Your nails dug into the plush of his bare ass, moans hitting an all time high as you clenched around him, completely unaffected by the furious woman in the doorway — climax washing over you harder than it ever had.
“Oh, Jaafar!” His name rang out through the room, alongside the squelch of your juices with each harsh thrust Jaafar fucked into you, a subconscious twist of the knife to the disbelieving Maddie watching in shock.
Jaafar groaned into your rising chest, cumming with a cry, his own orgasm hitting him as he doubled over, folding into you as he stuffed you full. The sensation of his spurting load filling you to the brim had your toes curling around his waist, a whine hitting his ringing ears. He didn’t stop — fucking his hot cum deeper into you, hips stuttering in overstimulation, the intense feeling of his electric orgasm still flooding through him.
In your mutual state of blind pleasure, you hadn’t noticed the absence of Maddie — the room deafening silent as you caught your breaths.
Jaafar softened inside you, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut.
