Girl I just KNOW Jaafar is OBSESSED with cum. Period.
WELL YES, iâll do you one better. jaafar watching you cum while he pleasures himself in front of you. heâll cum all over your stomach and make you pick it up and lick it, telling you to tell him how much you like his cum while he eats your cummed up pussy.
Can you pleaseee write a fic where jermajesty and the reader are like secretly dating and the fans donât know and they say they are like âGood friendsâ
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 donât play that.) Fingering, Choking, Arguing, Jermajesty has a big dick! P in V, No protection (Wrap it before you tap it, loves). Exhibitionism (He ainât coming off you for nothinâ 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 doesnât 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 itâs time to shift focus. Jermajesty doesnât like that one bit.
W.C. : 6.2k
Authorâs Note: Hey guys! Iâm 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 đ€
[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 âBâ triumphantly.Â
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 âJâ, and launches it back with the same level of vitriol.Â
It doesnât connect with the tyrant in the room, no, that would be too easy. Instead, it collides with her motherâs 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.Â
A small voice, that was not her own, cut through the air,
âShe hit me!â
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/nâs 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.Â
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.Â
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 whoâs been plaguing all eight years of her life had other plans.Â
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.
â Y/n,â he addresses. She raises a very skeptical brow, waiting to see what treachery would leave his mouth next. âAre you having fun?â 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, âWhat do you want?âÂ
Jermajesty feigns offense, brows furrowing as he takes a somber tone, âI canât talk to you now?âÂ
She scoffs, âWhen do you ever just talk? What, donât feel like terrorizing me today?â It was his turn to roll his eyes. âTerrorize is a weird way to describe a few jokes,â he says with a wave of his, now visible hand.Â
Before she can start rattling off the instances where Jermajesty absolutely did terrorize her, he cuts in again, this time with a quiet mumble, âI seriously did want to check on you. Didnât realize it was a crime.â 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.
âMy bad, Jermajesty. Yes I haââ The words all but die on her tongue when she hears a decently loud âPOP!â and feels a warmth near her feet. Thereâs 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.
âJermajesty! Stop!â 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 wasnât before, y/n was definitely overwhelmed now, and tears formed before she could stop them. Of course, her torturer noticed, âAww, is the baby gonna cry?â He mocked, showing no sign of stopping his onslaught.Â
She wasnât âgonnaâ do anything, the tears were hot and very present. That wasnât really y/nâs main concern though. Remember her overindulgence? It was coming back to bite her in the ass. In her defence, she didnât foresee herself dodging mini explosives when she ate as much as she did.Â
The ambush only lasted around two minutes before Jermajestyâs father snapped his head in the direction of y/nâs cry for help, âBoy! Cut that out and go sit the hell down! Whatâs wrong with you?â The boyâs 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.Â
Janet, who y/n has considered her godsend ever since the time with the gum, jumps on the situation like a commander, âJermaine! Go get the baking soda from the kitchen. Randy, get the poor girl a new towel please.âÂ
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, âNow! Please!â Janet then turns her attention to poor y/n, who is now reduced to dry heaving over the concrete. âHoney, Iâm so sorry. Youâll be alright, okay?âÂ
Humiliation morphs into anger, and the disgruntled eight year old, nods absentmindedly. She isnât really paying much attention to the reassurance though, too busy trying to get her body to understand that she canât 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.Â
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 brotherâs arm, who also seems to find the girlâs 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 couldâve 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.Â
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 didnât help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with.Â
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 didnât have an answer, and that pissed her off more.
Her irritation reaches new heights as her family heads toward the Jacksonâs home. She felt in her bones that today was not going to be a good day. Y/n still hadnât 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 chucklesâŠand 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, âShut up, no Iâm not!â (She absolutely was)
Jermajesty scoffs, âSuree, what else are you gonna lie about?â He asked with a smug look gracing his features. The girl leans into her teenage rage, âI lie about liking you all the time, canât you tell?â The boyâs face falls flat, âYou think I like you? I tolerate you because my family insists on bringing you around.âÂ
Y/n lets out a dry laugh, âI wish they didnât, I canât stand you. You have got to be one of the most infuriating people on the planet, not to mention, youâre a certified idiot. I hate that we even breathe the same air, so donât worry about having to like me, Jermajesty.â
A beat of silence passes before the insults begin flying. He calls her stupid, she calls him ugly, he hits her with a âpizza faceâ comment, and she delivers a devastating blow about how his âgirlfriendâ has three other boyfriends.Â
In that moment, Jermajesty all but lost what little sense he did have, âYou canât talk! Didnât the entire football team bend you over two weeks ago?âÂ
Poor, poor y/n, sheâs 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.Â
âYou two, ENOUGH!â Y/nâs father booms, he then shifts his gaze toward his daughter. Y/n immediately tries to save her ass, âDad, heâs lying! I swear, Iâve never evenââ she stops speaking when the older man raises his hand. âWe will talk about this at home, grab your things, now.â
Begrudgingly, she follows directions, making sure to grab her charger, phone, and the ornament, All while Jermaine profusely apologizes to her father for his sonâs behavior.
She throws one more glance in Jermajestyâs 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.Â
For the first time in fourteen years, y/n hadnât left the Jackson estate in tears. She did, however, leave with a bit of clarity.Â
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 hasnât 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 wasnât naive to this either, nuh-uh, y/n knows sheâs 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 sheâd 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.
âY/n, itâs been a while.â He states, looking down at her. She canât help the way her eyes find the back of her head. âYes, it has Jermajesty. As is to be expected when a pandemic occurs.â He chuckles, âWell, you look good. Real good.â 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 doesnât, and she realizes heâs serious, she steps back a bit. âIâ, thankâŠyou.â She says slow, still skeptical. He nods once, but refuses to move. Y/n grows impatient, âExcuse me, I was in the middle of greeting Jaafar.â She mumbles. Jermajestyâs brows furrow, âEverybody else got a hug, I canât?â She folds her lips together, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. She settles on a quick side-hug. âThere, now can you move?âÂ
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 brotherâs 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/nâs waistline, how you didnât correct his brotherâs grip, and most importantly, he canât help but notice that all he got was a fucking side-hug.Â
Why does he even care? Itâs not like you mean anything to him, right. Wrong, very wrong. Jermajesty is pissed. Heâs 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 â15, convincing his brother that he should want nothing to do with you. All in the name of love of course, you didnât know that. You didnât need to know that. He made sure that the girl heâs been infatuated with since the age of four, didnât have a clue about the strings he pulled in the background.Â
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 sheâs 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/nâs 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, âWhat. The. Fuck, is your problem? Huh? Do you ever stop? I mean seriously, I canât fucking stââ He wears a smile and nods as she rants on and on about how she hates him and canât 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 canât 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 ladyâs 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, âIf you ever pull that shit again, Iâll show you how cruel I can really be. Stay away from Jaafar, last warning.â 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 couldnât interact with. Still,even with the cold champagne that has now ruined her dress, y/n couldnât 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 wasnât dead. Just buried.
[Summer: July 25th 2026. Codename: Quit Playinâ With Me]
Admittedly, you knew what you were doing. Jermajesty hadnât 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 hadnât made much progress. So, you figured he needed a little push. What better place to make that happen than at Jaafarâs 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 wasnât for anyoneâs 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. âLook at you, whenâd you get so fine mama?â Though you werenât here for him, it didnât hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.
You cracked a grin, âBeen that, baby.â 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, âSo, how you been? Havenât had time to catch up since we first started filming.âÂ
You couldnât help the giggle that escaped your body, âBeen 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.â Jaafar gives your waist a small squeeze, âThank you, that means a lot coming from you, y/n.â You opened your mouth to assure that itâs 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 brotherâs, 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, âGet up.â You shift a little on Jaafarâs lap. The older brother speaks first, âShe doesnât have to move, if you donât like it go inside, or away.â Jermajesty doesnât spare so much as a sideways glance toward Jaafar, eyes still trained on yours with a hard stare, âYou have two fucking seconds to get the fuck off his lap.â
With that, your brain finally catches up, and you stand embarrassingly fast. Jermajesty doesnât miss a beat, and begins walking toward the entrance of the home âBring your ass in the house, now.â 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 werenât so giddy, you mightâve 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,
 âBefore I do, what Iâm about to do, you need to let me know if you want this as bad as I do.â He says, tone measured, controlled, just as chilling as it was before. You nod twice, and he shakes his head, âWords. Y/n. Use them.â You let out a shaky breath, âYes, I wantââ
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.
âYou just donât listen, do you baby? Hm?â You looked up at Jermajesty, pupils blown. His hand, serving as the prettiest necklace youâve 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, âYou just had to keep pushing. I told you what would happen, and look, you did it anyway, didnât you?â
You try to nod, but he holds you steady, âCome on, baby. Answer me,â When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, âMm, there you go again. Not listening,â 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, âThatâs right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?â
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.Â
A sultry sound leaves your mouth, one that sounds like music to his ears. Jermajesty groans, and with a âpopâ, removes himself from your chest. With his voice barely above a whisper, he makes you one more promise. âIâm gonâ show you who the fuck you belong to tonight.â 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, âSo fucking wet,â 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, âBaby please,â you beg, as he continues to tease, pumping them slowly. He chuckles, âOh? mâbaby now? I thought I was a piece of shit you couldnât stand.â 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, âThis not enough for you baby?Didn't know you were so greedy.âÂ
Annoyance began to seep into your bones. If he wanted to play so bad, then fine, âYouâre taking too long, I can always ask Jaafar to handle this, you know?â
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 isnât 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.Â
Good god, you knew he was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. Heâs neatly trimmed, thereâs 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 isnât so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans up, âOpen your mouth.â You obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, âThatâs it,â 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. âMove your hand,â 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. âPlease, Please, JerâŠPlease!â
You arenât even sure what it is that youâre asking for, he has you dazed, drunk off the feel of him, and he hasnât even fucked you yet. A cry leaves your lips, and you grip his arm tighter, âHe canât make you beg like this, pretty girl.â Tears form in your eyes as you just about tip over the edge, âJerâ oh fuck, Maj⊠gonnaâ cum!â Again, his fingers leave your core. The sudden denial leaves you frustrated beyond belief, a wail rips from your chest.
âWhat the fuckââ,
Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto all fours, and pressing you into a sinful arch. âShut the fuck up.â He teases you some more, running his tip along your slit, and tapping your clit a few times. âYou wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.âyou arch a little deeper, âMm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?âÂ
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 canât 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,
âDonât you dare fucking run. Take this shit, babyâ fuck! Take. It.â Your eyes hit the back of your head, fisting the sheets so hard you were sure theyâd rip, as he slams into you fervently.Â
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.
âShitâ, best fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever had.â As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow. With your brain turned to mush, you finally give in, âItâs yours, Jermajestyâ Fuck itâs yours!â 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, âSay it again, baby, louder,â you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. âThatâs right, this my pussy,â 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.
âWhat the hellââ
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.Â
âCum on this dick and show him who you belong to, baby.â 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 heâs spelling out his name. A foreign sensation racks through your body, âJer, waitâ I think Iâm gonna pee! Slowâ FuckâŠSlow down!â He spells faster, bullies that spot just a few more times, licks the shell of your ear, and whispers, âLet me have it baby, prove to me that youâre mine.â Your eyes roll back, mouth forming into a perfect âOâ 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. âDid so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.â 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 heâs got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks.Â
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, âThat was...so fucking good, Jer,â He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. â âI canât help but wonder though, what made you soâŠpossessive? You never liked me before, what changed?â Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, âY/n, baby. Iâve 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.âÂ
You werenât sure what answer you expected, but you knew it wasn't that. Though, when you think back, you canât help but feel that you let him slide with the shit heâs pulled through the years for that very same reason.
âHm, well I think I love you too, Jer. I would love to dwell on it, but Iâm tired, sweaty, and I think we just permanently scarred your brother.â You rambled on.
The man rolled his eyes, âWe can talk in the morning, ans Jaafarâll be fine. We can shower together, and sleep after.â You couldnât help yourself, âHow well does âapology pussyâ go over with your brother?â Jermajestyâs face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena.
âY/n, quit fucking playinâ with me.â Your laughs died down to a hum, âOkay, okay. You're sleeping on the side with the wet spot though!â Jermajesty kissed his teeth playfully, it was worth it.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty and you have broken up so many times that nobody reacts anymore. every single breakup starts with one of you saying it's over forever and ends with the two of you somehow sitting next to each other at your baby's soccer game three weeks later.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty loves acting like he doesn't care until another man starts spending time with you. suddenly he's calling more, texting more, volunteering for every pickup and drop-off, and finding reasons to be at your house almost every day.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty got your name tattooed on his chest three months after your "final" breakup. he claimed it was because you're the mother of his child, but nobody believed him. not even you.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty always says he's only coming over to pick up the baby. somehow that ten-minute pickup turns into him sitting at your kitchen table for two hours eating your food and arguing with you about something completely ridiculous.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty swears he's over you, yet he still knows your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite takeout place, and which blanket you always steal when you're tired.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty still calls you âmaâ even years after the breakup, but not in a co-parenting way. in a you way. itâs become such a habit that he doesnât even notice anymore. âmove over, ma,â when he squeezes onto the couch next to you. âyou hungry, ma?â when heâs bringing food over. âcâmere, ma,â when heâs trying to show you something on his phone. it drives your new boyfriend insane because jermajesty says it so naturally, like itâs always belonged to him. the worst part is that whenever somebody points it out, jermajesty just shrugs and says, âwhat? iâve been calling her that for years,â before continuing the conversation like he didnât just make things ten times more awkward
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty hates your new boyfriend immediately. he doesn't care whether the guy is nice, respectful, successful, or perfect. if another man is around you and his child, jermajesty already has a problem with him.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty suddenly becomes father of the year once he finds out that youâve moved on. he's showing up early, offering extra help, buying things for the baby without being asked, and finding any excuse possible to stay involved in your daily life.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty gets irrationally jealous whenever your baby starts getting attached to another man. the second he hears your child call somebody else funny, cool, or their favorite, he's planning the most expensive and over-the-top father-child day imaginable.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty constantly says things like "i'm only here for my kid" while sitting on your couch for the third hour in a row watching movies with you and the baby like you're still a family.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty acts completely unbothered whenever people ask if the two of you are getting back together. the second somebody asks if you're dating someone new, though, he's suddenly paying very close attention to the conversation.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty keeps every picture you've ever sent him of your child. every single one. blurry pictures, random selfies, pictures of finger paintings, pictures of naps. he has folders full of them and refuses to delete any.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty always pretends he forgot something at your house. his hoodie, his charger, his keys, his watch. sometimes you're pretty sure he leaves things behind on purpose just so he has an excuse to come back.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty and you can go from arguing about co-parenting to laughing at baby pictures in less than five minutes. one second you're threatening to block each other, the next you're both crying laughing over something your child did.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty hates when you ignore him, even though he's usually the one who started the argument. he'll spend hours acting annoyed and then get offended when you actually stop responding.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty still has a family photo of the three of you as his lock screen. every time somebody notices, he changes the subject so fast it gives people whiplash.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty always finds himself sitting next to you at family events. nobody knows how it happens. not even him. somehow every birthday party, holiday, school event, and cookout ends with the two of you side by side.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty absolutely hates when your child talks about wanting mommy and daddy to live together again. not because it bothers him, but because hearing it out loud feels way too close to what he secretly wants.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty knows exactly which buttons to push when he's annoyed, and unfortunately you know exactly how to get under his skin too. that's why your arguments are legendary.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty acts like your biggest headache and your biggest supporter at the exact same time. nobody understands how he can annoy you more than anyone else while also being the first person you call when something goes wrong.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty secretly keeps every family photo, every drawing, every handmade card, and every random keepsake your child gives him. if the picture includes you standing next to him, it's getting stored somewhere extra safe.
ËËđąÖŽà»đ„Ë jermajesty and you are the definition of unfinished business. no matter how many breakups happen, no matter how many times you swear you're done, neither of you has ever really figured out how to let go.
đđ â bad era michael, but you both are drunk and at the club, the music is playing loud, youâre dancing with him. his thigh is between your legs as you guys share a glass, probably something extremely strong. your eyesight is a little blurry but nothing too bad. tonight he has his shades on, and has a smirk on his face as he stares at you. your lipstick covering his face and lips. your lipstick is smudged on your nose and chin but you donât mind and neither does he. michaelâs hands stay on your back, rubbing your body through your dress as his lips drag down from your neck to the valley of your chest. his lips are sucking your skin, carefully as he whispers sweet nothings. heâll move his hands down to your thigh, fingertips caressing your skin before bringing them back up to your waist, pulling your closer to him. your pussy is soaking your panties as he makes you grind his thigh just a little, needing to see that wetness on his pants when he gets out of this club. you canât really hear him because of the music but heâs not bothered by it because when the two of you get into his limo, heâll repeat his words and more.
Genre: whole lotta angst coupled with tooth-rotting fluff
Warnings: Issues regarding weight! Belittling (Casting directors). Toxic relationship with social media. Reader is meaner than mean to herself, and literally everyone who breathes in her direction. Unhealthy weight loss practices. comparison to others. Reader develops a bad relationship with food (ED parallels). Rapid weight loss. Industry pressure. Feelings personified (?), Jaafar (rightfully so) sabotageâs readerâs plan.
Summary: You knew you checked every box for the lead in a projected block-buster film that had been heavily anticipated for months now. Every box except the one with digitized numbers. They glare up at you, as your heart sinks deeper into your chest. Oftentimes, people never talk about how gradual desperation can be. It started small, a skipped meal here, only a protein shake for dinner there, but how long can your hunger for a big-break trump your basic necessities? As you start to become a shell of who you once were, your boyfriend decides enough is enough.
Authorâs Note: Hey archivists! This file is an incomplete log from this request. Lmk what you think in the comments, happy reading!
- Love, B đ€
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You had done everything right: long nights memorizing lines, endless rehearsals for a part not yet guaranteed, shutting out anything that broke your focus, and starting a rigorous diet. Exhaustion weighs on your bones, hunger grips you, and a sour feeling settles beneath your skin as the casting director, Margaret, looks up from the notes she had been pretending to write, pity on her face.
âIâm sorry, miss y/n, but weâre going to have to look in another direction.â Her tone makes your efforts feel futile. A hole tears in your chest, and denial creeps in, taking you by the hand. It whispers, âSheâs just joking. Any minute now, sheâll say youâve got the part.â
Except, she doesnât. Margaret folds her lips inward and finds a very interesting spot on the floor. Your brows knit together, your lips part, and a frustrated sound leaves you. âIâ pardon me if I sound aggressive. But why? I donât mean to be arrogant, but I am quite literally everything youâre looking for. You told me so yourself, three months ago.â
Margaret clears her throat and glances down, trying to avoid angering the aspiring actress any further. âYesâŠI did. But unfortunately,â she begins slowly, âyou just donât quite match what we are looking for, umâŠvisually.â Your eyebrows nearly shoot to the back of your head. Was she serious?
âExcuse me? VisuaâVisually?!â Margaret flinches, realizing her poor choice of words may be her undoing. âWait, thatâs not howââ You laugh, trying not to lose it. âI think it is. Whatâs the problem, Ms. Maggie? Is it my hair? My face, or maybe my teeth? Hm? Whatâs so wrong visually?â
On days like this, Margaret wishes she had gone into another profession. Three months ago, when she âscoutedâ you out, she didnât expect you to take the offer seriously. It was a laid-back comment at a socialite dinner, after a long day of searching for âMrs. Right,â about how you would be perfect for the role. She didnât think you would call her assistant two weeks later for an audition, or show your face when the random date came around. Margaret realizes her own careless comment has boxed her in, and she isnât all that eager to explain that the part was never meant for you.
You are a powder keg, and if this director isnât careful with her next words, she will light the spark. Still, Hollywood is cutthroat, and Margaret canât spare your feelings. âNo, it isnât any of that, y/n.â You wait impatiently for an answer, palms turned up as if to say, âWell, go on then.â
The older woman sighs. A tired look washes over her face, knowing what sheâs about to say will surely crush you, but her plate is more than full, and she has other auditions to get through. âItâs your weight, honey. You wonât fit into the costumes required for the role, and unless you can find a way to dropâŠIâd say twenty more pounds before production starts, which is in three weeks; thereâs nothing I can do for you.â She wants the easiest way out of this conversation and wants you gone before it turns into a bigger problem.
The hole in your heart grows. Twenty pounds in three weeks? It took you six weeks to lose ten. Reality hits hard and fast. Youâd done your best, and it wasnât good enough. Anger steps up now. You take a deep breath, despite the heat crawling up your neck; one bad outburst with one of the biggest names in the film industry could ruin your image. Margaret looks bored. The tips of your ears feel hot, and your chest rises faster. âTw-Twenty? Margaret, thatâs impossible!â
The older womanâs shoulders rise in indifference. âThatâs reality.â A pregnant pause follows as she watches your face morph into despair. âIâm sorry, honey. Really, I am. But youâre just not our girl.â
As you stand there in disbelief, your ears ring, and whatever consolation the older woman is offering falls on deaf ears. Youâve been torn asunder, and suddenly itâs hard to breathe. Depression swallows you whole. Bargaining makes quick work of diving in after you. Cradling your body in a tight embrace, she leans into you, whispering, âYou can do it. Just work a little harder. When are you ever going to get another chance like this again?â
When you resurface from the depths of your despair, Margaret looks between you and the door, hinting that your time here is over. You donât want to drag this out any longer than you already have, but you worked so hard, and that little voice in your head was right. When were you going to get another chance like this?
...tbc
Current Archivists: @siiighrns @xlsnisax @szalipcombo
Hey, cutie. I'm your guide, Bee! Let's chat before you explore.
Here's a little about me:
- First things first, that goddess you see up there, looking like money, is me! Yes, yes I know...ultra mega sexy.
- I'm 22, and have a wide array of obscure interests. I love to write, though this is my first time writing for a relatively large community. My journey started a LONG time ago on Quotev, if i remember correctly. Around that time I discovered Fanfic.net, deviant art, and then eventually served about 5 years as a wattpad warrior, before settling down with my true loves, tumblr and a03.
- I say all that to say, I aint new to this, im true to this. I've been apart of many fandoms, and Im so happy to be here rn, yall dont know what its like surviving on wattpad's SCRAPS.
About The Four Ethers [my blog, not the actual ethers]:
- While poking around my blog, you're absolutely going to see me use terms of endearment. They are always generalized, please don't take offense to them.
- My blog is for grown folks ONLY. I have it plastered all over the place, and im gon do it one more again! MINORS, DO NAWT INTERACT. I don't have kids, nor do I run a daycare. You are 100% responsible for the media you consume.
- I do NAWT, under any circumstances, write non-con, incest, or abuse. Do not ask me to, I will block you.
- My main hub, The Four Ethers Archive, is linked in my pinned post, and if ever you wanna read this post again, you can find it linked there.
- One more, very important, thing. Any log you open round here, is written with a black reader in mind. That doesn't mean you can't enjoy my work, but dont ask me to change it, i will absolutely block you. I love my honey-bunnies with all my heart, I will never stop writing for them. Plus, I am a black woman shamelessly feeding my own interests. There's no need for any more context than that.
Alright thats a wrap!
Have fun looking through the log files, and remember, Bee loves you! Muah! đ€
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 donât play that.) Fingering, Choking, Arguing, Jermajesty has a big dick! P in V, No protection (Wrap it before you tap it, loves). Exhibitionism (He ainât coming off you for nothinâ 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 doesnât 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 itâs time to shift focus. Jermajesty doesnât like that one bit.
W.C. : 6.2k
Authorâs Note: Hey guys! Iâm 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!)
love, B đ€
[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 âBâ triumphantly.Â
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 âJâ, and launches it back with the same level of vitriol.Â
It doesnât connect with the tyrant in the room, no, that would be too easy. Instead, it collides with her motherâs 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.Â
A small voice, that was not her own, cut through the air,
âShe hit me!â
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 a y/nâs 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.Â
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.Â
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 whoâs been plaguing all eight years of her life had other plans.Â
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.
â Y/n,â he addresses. She raises a very skeptical brow, waiting to see what treachery would leave his mouth next. âAre you having fun?â 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, âWhat do you want?âÂ
Jermajesty feigns offense, brows furrowing as he takes a somber tone, âI canât talk to you now?âÂ
She scoffs, âWhen do you ever just talk? What, donât feel like terrorizing me today?â It was his turn to roll his eyes. âTerrorize is a weird way to describe a few jokes,â he says with a wave of his, now visible hand.Â
Before she can start rattling off the instances where Jermajesty absolutely did terrorize her, he cuts in again, this time with a quiet mumble, âI seriously did want to check on you. Didnât realize it was a crime.â 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.
âMy bad, Jermajesty. Yes I haââ The words all but die on her tongue when she hears a decently loud âPOP!â and feels a warmth near her feet. Thereâs 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.
âJermajesty! Stop!â 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 wasnât before, y/n was definitely overwhelmed now, and tears formed before she could stop them. Of course, her torturer noticed, âAww, is the baby gonna cry?â He mocked, showing no sign of stopping his onslaught.Â
She wasnât âgonnaâ do anything, the tears were hot and very present. That wasnât really y/nâs main concern though. Remember her overindulgence? It was coming back to bite her in the ass. In her defence, she didnât foresee herself dodging mini explosives when she ate as much as she did.Â
The ambush only lasted around two minutes before Jermajestyâs father snapped his head in the direction of y/nâs cry for help, âBoy! Cut that out and go sit the hell down! Whatâs wrong with you?â The boyâs 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.Â
Janet, who y/n has considered her godsend ever since the time with the gum, jumps on the situation like a commander, âJermaine! Go get the baking soda from the kitchen. Randy, get the poor girl a new towel please.âÂ
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, âNow! Please!â Janet then turns her attention to poor y/n, who is now reduced to dry heaving over the concrete. âHoney, Iâm so sorry. Youâll be alright, okay?âÂ
Humiliation morphs into anger, and the disgruntled eight year old, nods absentmindedly. She isnât really paying much attention to the reassurance though, too busy trying to get her body to understand that she canât 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.Â
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 brotherâs arm, who also seems to find the girlâs 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 couldâve 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.Â
This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment between, 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 didnât help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with.Â
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 didnât have an answer, and that pissed her off more.
Her irritation reaches new heights as her family heads toward the Jacksonâs home. She felt in her bones that today was not going to be a good day. Y/n still hadnât 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 chucklesâŠand 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, âShut up, no Iâm not!â (She absolutely was)
Jermajesty scoffs, âSuree, what else are you gonna lie about?â He asked with a smug look gracing his features. The girl leans into her teenage rage, âI lie about liking you all the time, canât you tell?â The boyâs face falls flat, âYou think I like you? I tolerate you because my family insists on bringing you around.âÂ
Y/n lets out a dry laugh, âI wish they didnât, I canât stand you. You have got to be one of the most infuriating people on the planet, not to mention, youâre a certified idiot. I hate that we even breathe the same air, so donât worry about having to like me, Jermajesty.â
A beat of silence passes before the insults begin flying. He calls her stupid, she calls him ugly, he hits her with a âpizza faceâ comment, and she delivers a devastating blow about how his âgirlfriendâ has three other boyfriends.Â
In that moment, Jermajesty all but lost what little sense he did have, âYou canât talk! Didnât the entire football team bend you over two weeks ago?âÂ
Poor, poor y/n, sheâs 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.Â
âYou two, ENOUGH!â Y/nâs father booms, he then shifts his gaze toward his daughter. Y/n immediately tries to save her ass, âDad, heâs lying! I swear, Iâve never evenââ she stops speaking when the older man raises his hand. âWe will talk about this at home, grab your things, now.â
Begrudgingly, she follows directions, making sure to grab her charger, phone, and the ornament, All while Jermaine profusely apologizes to her father for his sonâs behavior.
She throws one more glance in Jermajestyâs 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.Â
For the first time in fourteen years, y/n hadnât left the Jackson estate in tears. She did, however, leave with a bit of clarity.Â
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 hasnât 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 wasnât naive to this either, nuh-uh, y/n knows sheâs 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 sheâd 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.
âY/n, itâs been a while.â He states, looking down at her. She canât help the way her eyes find the back of her head. âYes, it has Jermajesty. As is to be expected when a pandemic occurs.â He chuckles, âWell, you look good. Real good.â 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 doesnât, and she realizes heâs serious, she steps back a bit. âIâ, thankâŠyou.â She says slow, still skeptical. He nods once, but refuses to move. Y/n grows impatient, âExcuse me, I was in the middle of greeting Jaafar.â She mumbles. Jermajestyâs brows furrow, âEverybody else got a hug, I canât?â She folds her lips together, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. She settles on a quick side-hug. âThere, now can you move?âÂ
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 brotherâs 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/nâs waistline, how you didnât correct his brotherâs grip, and most importantly, he canât help but notice that all he got was a fucking side-hug.Â
Why does he even care? Itâs not like you mean anything to him, right. Wrong, very wrong. Jermajesty is pissed. Heâs 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 â15, convincing his brother that he should want nothing to do with you. All in the name of love of course, you didnât know that. You didnât need to know that. He made sure that the girl heâs been infatuated with since the age of four, didnât have a clue about the strings he pulled in the background.Â
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 sheâs 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/nâs 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, âWhat. The. Fuck, is your problem? Huh? Do you ever stop? I mean seriously, I canât fucking stââ He wears a smile and nods as she rants on and on about how she hates him and canât 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 canât 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 ladyâs 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, âIf you ever pull that shit again, Iâll show you how cruel I can really be. Stay away from Jaafar, last warning.â 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 couldnât interact with. Still,even with the cold champagne that has now ruined her dress, y/n couldnât 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 wasnât dead. Just buried.
[Summer: July 25th 2026. Codename: Quit Playinâ With Me]
Admittedly, you knew what you were doing. Jermajesty hadnât 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 hadnât made much progress. So, you figured he needed a little push. What better place to make that happen than at Jaafarâs 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 wasnât for anyoneâs 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. âLook at you, whenâd you get so fine mama?â Though you werenât here for him, it didnât hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.
You cracked a grin, âBeen that, baby.â 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, âSo, how you been? Havenât had time to catch up since we first started filming.âÂ
You couldnât help the giggle that escaped your body, âBeen 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.â Jaafar gives your waist a small squeeze, âThank you, that means a lot coming from you, y/n.â You opened your mouth to assure that itâs 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 brotherâs, 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, âGet up.â You shift a little on Jaafarâs lap. The older brother speaks first, âShe doesnât have to move, if you donât like it go inside, or away.â Jermajesty doesnât spare so much as a sideways glance toward Jaafar, eyes still trained on yours with a hard stare, âYou have two fucking seconds to get the fuck off his lap.â
With that, your brain finally catches up, and you stand embarrassingly fast. Jermajesty doesnât miss a beat, and begins walking toward the entrance of the home âBring your ass in the house, now.â 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 werenât so giddy, you mightâve 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,
 âBefore I do, what Iâm about to do, you need to let me know if you want this as bad as I do.â He says, tone measured, controlled, just as chilling as it was before. You nod twice, and he shakes his head, âWords. Y/n. Use them.â You let out a shaky breath, âYes, I wantââ
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.
âYou just donât listen, do you baby? Hm?â You looked up at Jermajesty, pupils blown. His hand, serving as the prettiest necklace youâve 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, âYou just had to keep pushing. I told you what would happen, and look, you did it anyway, didnât you?â
You try to nod, but he holds you steady, âCome on, baby. Answer me,â When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, âMm, there you go again. Not listening,â 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, âThatâs right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?â
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.Â
A sultry sound leaves your mouth, one that sounds like music to his ears. Jermajesty groans, and with a âpopâ, removes himself from your chest. With his voice barely above a whisper, he makes you one more promise. âIâm gonâ show you who the fuck you belong to tonight.â 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, âSo fucking wet,â 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, âBaby please,â you beg, as he continues to tease, pumping them slowly. He chuckles, âOh? mâbaby now? I thought I was a piece of shit you couldnât stand.â 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, âThis not enough for you baby?Didn't know you were so greedy.âÂ
Annoyance began to seep into your bones. If he wanted to play so bad, then fine, âYouâre taking too long, I can always ask Jaafar to handle this, you know?â
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 isnât 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.Â
Good god, you knew it was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. Heâs neatly trimmed, thereâs a small batch 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 heavy round balls.
He wastes no time in 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 isnât so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans over, âOpen your mouth,â you obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, âThatâs it,â 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. âMove your hand,â 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. âPlease, Please, JerâŠPlease!â
You arenât even sure what it is that youâre begging for, he has you dazed and drunk off the feeling of him, and he hasnât even fucked you yet. A cry leaves your lips, and you grip his arm tighter, âHe canât make you beg like this, pretty girl.â Tears form in your eyes as you just about tip over the edge, âJerâ oh fuck, Maj⊠gonnaâ cum!â Again, his fingers leave your core. The sudden denial leaves you frustrated beyond belief, a wail rips from your chest.
âWhat the fuckââ, Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto your stomach. âShut the fuck up.â He teases you again, running his tip along your slit, âYou wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.âyou arch a little deeper, âMm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?âÂ
In one slow deep thrust, 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 in one deep thrust. 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 canât 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,
âDonât you dare fucking run. Take this shit, babyâ fuck! Take. It.â Your eyes hit the back of your head, fisting the sheets so hard you were sure theyâd rip, as he slams into you fervently.Â
The sound of skin clapping echoes in the room, his headboard hits the wall, matching his tempo. Jermasty lets out a deep groan that goes straight to your core.
âShitâ, best fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever had.â As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow, âItâs yours, Jermajestyâ Fuck itâs yours!â 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, âSay it again, baby, louder,â you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. âThatâs right, this my pussy,â he says, bringing one of your legs over his torso. 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. âWhat the hellââ 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.Â
âCum on this dick and show him who you belong to, baby.â 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. Jermasesty draws new patterns on your clit, it takes you ten seconds to realize heâs spelling out his name. A foreign pleasure shoots through your body, âJer, waitâ I think Iâm gonna pee! Slowâ FuckâŠSlow down!â He spells faster, bullies that spot just a few more times, licks the shell of your ear, and whispers, âLet me have it baby, prove to me that youâre mine.â Your eyes roll back, mouth forming into a perfect âOâ shape, before your release cascades down your thighs, and his, onto the bed.
Jermajesty pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. âDid so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.â His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned to mush, one last thrust has him cumming with a shout of your name. His hold on you tightening, as you milk him for everything heâs got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks.Â
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, âThat was amazing, Jer,â He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. â âI canât help but wonder though, what made you soâŠpossessive?â Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, âY/n, baby. Iâve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if Iâm a little 'possessive.ââÂ
You werenât sure what answer you expected, but you knew it wasn't that. Though, when you think back, you canât help but feel that you let him slide with the shit heâs pulled through the years for that very same reason.
âHm, well I think I love you too Jer. I would love to dwell on it, but Iâm tired, sweaty, and I think we just permanently scarred your brother.â You rambled on.
The man rolled his eyes, âWe can talk in the morning, Jaafarâll be fine, we can shower together, and sleep after.â You couldnât help yourself. You tried though, âHow well does âapology pussyâ go over with your brother?â Jermajestyâs face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena.
âY/n, quit fucking playinâ with me.â Your laughs died down to a hum, âOkay, okay. You're sleeping on the side with the wet spot though!â Jermajesty kissed his teeth playfully, it was worth it.
Well I have a request thatâs maybe a lil triggering for some people. Itâs jaafar x actress/reader. In this scenario these two are a couple so est.relationship. Reader is casted for a new movie where she has to loose a lot of weight in a short period of time. She goes on to live a very unhealthy lifestyle. Her boyfriend jaafar starts to get worried about her. But we all know if you start to deny yourself food youâll be the biggest bitch. So therefore they get into an argument about her health. Idrc if you write about triggering themes like smut, angst, ed or cursing as long as youâre comfortable! Ofc if youâre not comfortable with that s type of writing itâs fine!
I can definitely add this to the logs! For future reference, the only things I can think of that I absolutley will not write, under any circumstance, are: non-con, incest, and abuse. I provide warnings for triggering elements, but everything outside of those three hard 'no's, I think I can do!
Pairing(s): Jermajesty x 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 donât play that.) Fingering, Choking, Arguing, Jermajesty has a big dick! P in V, No protection (Wrap it before you tap it, loves). Exhibitionism (He ainât coming off you for nothinâ 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 doesnât 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 itâs time to shift focus. Jermajesty doesnât like that one bit.
W.C. : 6.2k
Authorâs Note: Hey guys! Iâm 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.
love, B đ€
[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 âBâ triumphantly.Â
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 âJâ, and launches it back with the same level of vitriol.Â
It doesnât connect with the tyrant in the room, no, that would be too easy. Instead, it collides with her motherâs 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.Â
A small voice, that was not her own, cut through the air,
âShe hit me!â
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 a y/nâs 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.Â
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.Â
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 whoâs been plaguing all eight years of her life had other plans.Â
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.
â Y/n,â he addresses. She raises a very skeptical brow, waiting to see what treachery would leave his mouth next. âAre you having fun?â 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, âWhat do you want?âÂ
Jermajesty feigns offense, brows furrowing as he takes a somber tone, âI canât talk to you now?âÂ
She scoffs, âWhen do you ever just talk? What, donât feel like terrorizing me today?â It was his turn to roll his eyes. âTerrorize is a weird way to describe a few jokes,â he says with a wave of his, now visible hand.Â
Before she can start rattling off the instances where Jermajesty absolutely did terrorize her, he cuts in again, this time with a quiet mumble, âI seriously did want to check on you. Didnât realize it was a crime.â 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.
âMy bad, Jermajesty. Yes I haââ The words all but die on her tongue when she hears a decently loud âPOP!â and feels a warmth near her feet. Thereâs 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.
âJermajesty! Stop!â 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 wasnât before, y/n was definitely overwhelmed now, and tears formed before she could stop them. Of course, her torturer noticed, âAww, is the baby gonna cry?â He mocked, showing no sign of stopping his onslaught.Â
She wasnât âgonnaâ do anything, the tears were hot and very present. That wasnât really y/nâs main concern though. Remember her overindulgence? It was coming back to bite her in the ass. In her defence, she didnât foresee herself dodging mini explosives when she ate as much as she did.Â
The ambush only lasted around two minutes before Jermajestyâs father snapped his head in the direction of y/nâs cry for help, âBoy! Cut that out and go sit the hell down! Whatâs wrong with you?â The boyâs 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.Â
Janet, who y/n has considered her godsend ever since the time with the gum, jumps on the situation like a commander, âJermaine! Go get the baking soda from the kitchen. Randy, get the poor girl a new towel please.âÂ
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, âNow! Please!â Janet then turns her attention to poo y/n, who is now reduced to dry heaving over the concrete. âHoney, Iâm so sorry. Youâll be alright, okay?âÂ
Humiliation morphs into anger, and the disgruntled nine year old, nods absentmindedly. She isnât really paying much attention to the reassurance though, too busy trying to get her body to understand that she canât 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.Â
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 brotherâs arm, who also seems to find the girlâs 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 couldâve 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.Â
This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment between, 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 didnât help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with.Â
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 didnât have an answer, and that pissed her off more.
Her irritation reaches new heights as her family heads toward the Jacksonâs home. She felt in her bones that today was not going to be a good day. Y/n still hadnât 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 chucklesâŠand 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, âShut up, no Iâm not!â (She absolutely was)
Jermajesty scoffs, âSuree, what else are you gonna lie about?â He asked with a smug look gracing his features. The girl leans into her teenage rage, âI lie about liking you all the time, canât you tell?â The boyâs face falls flat, âYou think I like you? I tolerate you because my family insists on bringing you around.âÂ
Y/n lets out a dry laugh, âI wish they didnât, I canât stand you. You have got to be one of the most infuriating people on the planet, not to mention, youâre a certified idiot. I hate that we even breathe the same air, so donât worry about having to like me, Jermajesty.â
A beat of silence passes before the insults begin flying. He calls her stupid, she calls him ugly, he hits her with a âpizza faceâ comment, and she delivers a devastating blow about how his âgirlfriendâ has three other boyfriends.Â
In that moment, Jermajesty all but lost what little sense he did have, âYou canât talk! Didnât the entire football team bend you over two weeks ago?âÂ
Poor, poor y/n, sheâs 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.Â
âYou two, ENOUGH!â Y/nâs father booms, he then shifts his gaze toward his daughter. Y/n immediately tries to save her ass, âDad, heâs lying! I swear, Iâve never evenââ she stops speaking when the older man raises his hand. âWe will talk about this at home, grab your things, now.â
Begrudgingly, she follows directions, making sure to grab her charger, phone, and the ornament, All while Jermaine profusely apologizes to her father for his sonâs behavior.
She throws one more glance in Jermajestyâs 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.Â
For the first time in fourteen years, y/n hadnât left the Jackson estate in tears. She did, however, leave with a bit of clarity.Â
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 hasnât 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 wasnât naive to this either, nuh-uh, y/n knows sheâs 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 sheâd 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.
âY/n, itâs been a while.â He states, looking down at her. She canât help the way her eyes find the back of her head. âYes, it has Jermajesty. As is to be expected when a pandemic occurs.â He chuckles, âWell, you look good. Real good.â 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 doesnât, and she realizes heâs serious, she steps back a bit. âIâ, thankâŠyou.â She says slow, still skeptical. He nods once, but refuses to move. Y/n grows impatient, âExcuse me, I was in the middle of greeting Jaafar.â She mumbles. Jermajestyâs brows furrow, âEverybody else got a hug, I canât?â She folds her lips together, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. She settles on a quick side-hug. âThere, now can you move?âÂ
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 brotherâs 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/nâs waistline, how you didnât correct his brotherâs grip, and most importantly, he canât help but notice that all he got was a fucking side-hug.Â
Why does he even care? Itâs not like you mean anything to him, right. Wrong, very wrong. Jermajesty is pissed. Heâs 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 â15, convincing his brother that he should want nothing to do with you. All in the name of love of course, you didnât know that. You didnât need to know that. He made sure that the girl heâs been infatuated with since the age of four, didnât have a clue about the strings he pulled in the background.Â
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 sheâs 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/nâs 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, âWhat. The. Fuck, is your problem? Huh? Do you ever stop? I mean seriously, I canât fucking stââ He wears a smile and nods as she rants on and on about how she hates him and canât .
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 canât 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 ladyâs 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, âIf you ever pull that shit again, Iâll show you how cruel I can really be. Stay away from Jaafar, last warning.â 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 couldnât interact with. Still,even with the cold champagne that has now ruined her dress, y/n couldnât 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 wasnât dead. Just buried.
[Summer: July 25th 2026. Codename: Quit Playinâ With Me]
Admittedly, you knew what you were doing. Jermajesty hadnât 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 hadnât made much progress. So, you figured he needed a little push. What better place to make that happen than at Jaafarâs 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.
When you waltz into the familiar backyard, body clad in a swimsuit that was essentially string, smelling good, and looking better. This time though, it wasnât for anyoneâs 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. âLook at you, whenâd you get so fine mama?â Though you werenât here for him, it didnât hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.
You cracked a grin, âBeen that, baby.â 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, âSo, how you been? Havenât had time to catch up since we first started filming.âÂ
You couldnât help the giggle that escaped your body, âBeen 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.â Jaafar gives your waist a small squeeze, âThank you, that means a lot coming from you, y/n.â You opened your mouth to assure that itâs 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 brotherâs, 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, âGet up.â You shift a little on Jaafarâs lap. The older brother speaks first, âShe doesnât have to move, if you donât like it go inside, or away.â Jermajesty doesnât spare so much as a sideways glance toward Jaafar, eyes still trained on yours with a hard stare, âYou have two fucking seconds to get the fuck off his lap.â
With that, your brain finally catches up, and you stand embarrassingly fast. Jermajesty doesnât miss a beat, and begins walking toward the entrance of the home âBring your ass in the house, now.â 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 werenât so giddy, you mightâve 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,
 âBefore I do, what Iâm about to do, you need to let me know if you want this as bad as I do.â He says, tone measured, controlled, just as chilling as it was before. You nod twice, and he shakes his head, âWords. Y/n. Use them.â You let out a shaky breath, âYes, I wantââ
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 face,Â
âYou just donât listen, do you baby? Hm?â You looked up at Jermajesty, pupils blown. His hand, serving as the prettiest necklace youâve 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, âYou just had to keep pushing. I told you what would happen, and look, you did it anyway, didnât you?â
You try to nod, but he holds you steady, âCome on, baby. Answer me,â When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, âMm, there you go. Not listening again,â Jermajesty shakes his head as he tuts, and with a wicked smile. He loosens his grip just a bit. Soft kisses start at the back of your ear, and make their way down to a spot on your neck that makes you let out a soft whine. A deep chuckle leaves the man towering over you, âThatâs right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?â
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 swiftly undo the ties on your neck and back. The top falls, and you stand there now, bare, 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.Â
A sultry sound leaves your mouth, one that sounds like music to his ears. Jermajesty groans, and with a âpopâ, removes himself from your chest. With his voice barely above a whisper, he makes you one more promise. âIâm gonâ show you who the fuck you belong to tonight.â 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, âSo fucking wet,â 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, âBaby please,â you beg, as he continues to tease, pumping them slowly. He chuckles, âOh? mâbaby now? I thought I was a piece of shit you couldnât stand.â 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, âThis not enough for you baby?Didn't know you were so greedy.âÂ
Annoyance began to seep into your bones. If he wanted to play so bad, then fine, âYouâre taking too long, I can always ask Jaafar to handle this, you know?â
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 isnât 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.Â
Good god, you knew it was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. Heâs neatly trimmed, thereâs a small batch 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 heavy round balls.
He wastes no time in 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 isnât so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans over, âOpen your mouth,â you obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, âThatâs it,â 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. âMove your hand,â 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. âPlease, Please, JerâŠPlease!â
You arenât even sure what it is that youâre begging for, he has you dazed and drunk off the feeling of him, and he hasnât even fucked you yet. A cry leaves your lips, and you grip his arm tighter, âHe canât make you beg like this, pretty girl.â Tears form in your eyes as you just about tip over the edge, âJerâ oh fuck, Maj⊠gonnaâ cum!â Again, his fingers leave your core. The sudden denial leaves you frustrated beyond belief, a wail rips from your chest.
âWhat the fuckââ, Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto your stomach. âShut the fuck up.â He teases you again, running his tip along your slit, âYou wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.âyou arch a little deeper, âMm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?âÂ
In one slow deep thrust, 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 in one deep thrust. 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 canât 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,
âDonât you dare fucking run. Take this shit, babyâ fuck! Take. It.â Your eyes hit the back of your head, fisting the sheets so hard you were sure theyâd rip, as he slams into you fervently.Â
The sound of skin clapping echoes in the room, his headboard hits the wall, matching his tempo. Jermasty lets out a deep groan that goes straight to your core.
âShitâ, best fuckinâ pussy Iâve ever had.â As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow, âItâs yours, Jermajestyâ Fuck itâs yours!â 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, âSay it again, baby, louder,â you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. âThatâs right, this my pussy,â he says, bringing one of your legs over his torso. 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. âWhat the hellââ 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.Â
âCum on this dick and show him who you belong to, baby.â 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. Jermasesty draws new patterns on your clit, it takes you ten seconds to realize heâs spelling out his name. A foreign pleasure shoots through your body, âJer, waitâ I think Iâm gonna pee! Slowâ FuckâŠSlow down!â He spells faster, bullies that spot just a few more times, licks the shell of your ear, and whispers, âLet me have it baby, prove to me that youâre mine.â Your eyes roll back, mouth forming into a perfect âOâ shape, before your release cascades down your thighs, and his, onto the bed.
Jermajesty pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. âDid so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.â His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned to mush, one last thrust has him cumming with a shout of your name. His hold on you tightening, as you milk him for everything heâs got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks.Â
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, âThat was amazing, Jer,â He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. â âI canât help but wonder though, what made you soâŠpossessive?â Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, âY/n, baby. Iâve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if Iâm a little 'possessive.ââÂ
You werenât sure what answer you expected, but you knew it wasn't that. Though, when you think back, you canât help but feel that you let him slide with the shit heâs pulled through the years for that very same reason.
âHm, well I think I love you too Jer. I would love to dwell on it, but Iâm tired, sweaty, and I think we just permanently scarred your brother.â You rambled on.
The man rolled his eyes, âWe can talk in the morning, Jaafarâll be fine, we can shower together, and sleep after.â You couldnât help yourself. You tried though, âHow well does âapology pussyâ go over with your brother?â Jermajestyâs face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena. âY/n, quit fucking playinâ with me.â Your laughs died down to a hum, âOkay, okay. You're sleeping on the side with the wet spot though!â Jermajesty kissed his teeth playfully, it was worth it.