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[redemptioninthe4ethers]

Quit Playin’ With Me.

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 don’t play that.) Fingering, Choking, Arguing, Jermajesty has a big dick! P in V, No protection (Wrap it before you tap it, loves). Exhibitionism (He ain’t coming off you for nothin’ sista). squirting. Spit as lube. Spit kink. Just filthy really.

Summary: Since diapers, Jermajesty has been the bane of your existence. Always picking at insecurities, making jokes at your expense, and finding ways to turn everything into a competition. Peace doesn’t walk in the room when you two do. In fact, she passes the reigns to chaos, and leaves all together. Playing this game of back and forth has grown tiring, so you decide it’s time to shift focus. Jermajesty doesn’t like that one bit.

W.C. : 6.2k

Author’s Note: Hey guys! I’m glad the snippet was well received! I have been sitting on this for a minute so I am happy to share. I really think is so cool, I am biased though Share what you think in the comments, reblog if you love it! Thank you for reading, my hearts! POV switches from third to second once we hit the present. NAWT proofread sista.

love, B 🤍

[Spring: May 2nd, 2004. Codename: The Beginning.]

Two little ones sit face to face post wrestling match, on an ornate rug in Havenhurst's living room. One breathes heavily, face red, marked with a scowl and a wobbly lip, the other grips a wooden block marked with the letter ‘B’ triumphantly. 

The girl takes in a deep breath, tears well in her eyes, and she exhales with a cry that could wake even the sandman. At the sound of her cries, The young boy's face contorts to match her own. While testing her lung capacity, she attempts to retrieve the block one more time, only to be met with a sharp pain in her temple. The boy made quick work to remove himself from the line of fire as she,impossibly, screamed louder. She picks up her own block, ironically marked with a ‘J’, and launches it back with the same level of vitriol. 

It doesn’t connect with the tyrant in the room, no, that would be too easy. Instead, it collides with her mother’s shin, who had rushed in to see what all the fuss was about. When asked why she had turned their toys into projectiles, the poor girl, consumed by hysteria, couldn't get a response out. 

A small voice, that was not her own, cut through the air,

“She hit me!”

Before she knew it, three words without an ounce of truth to them, had landed her a sentence of fifteen minutes facing the wall.

This interaction, which may seem like ordinary toddler melodrama, marked the beginning of a y/n’s longstanding beef with Jermajesty.

[Summer: July 4th, 2010. Codename: The Pop-its Incident]

The fourth of July is normally a wholesome, family oriented, event. Trademarked by barbecues, games, a dip in the pool, popsicles that will inevitably melt under the California sun, and at the end of the night, beautiful displays of pyrotechnics, some even handheld, that should not be in the vicinity of a deranged nine-year old. 

Y/n found herself exhausted. Between the outdoor activity that, no doubt brought about an early onset fatigue, and the fact that the young girl had practically stuffed herself to the gills with overdone hotdogs, a burger, and perhaps one-too-many cupcakes, by the time the sun began to set, she was nearly immobile. 

With a towel wrapped around her shoulders, and a slouch in her spine, she, tiredly, tries to settle down on a lawn chair nestled in a corner of the backyard, wanting nothing more from the day than to just watch the fireworks. Unfortunately for y/n, the boy who’s been plaguing all eight years of her life had other plans. 

She sees him approach from a distance with a smile on his face and hands hidden from view. Looking back, that itself should have been enough of a warning. Still, she brushes it off with a roll of her eyes, sitting on the edge of the chair, with her hands on her knees and feet planted firmly on the warm pavement. By the time she looks up, he looms over her something behind his back.

“ Y/n,” he addresses. She raises a very skeptical brow, waiting to see what treachery would leave his mouth next. “Are you having fun?” Jermajesty asks, shifting on his feet. She could tell something was amiss, very rarely did he willingly speak to her, and whatever he had behind him did nothing to soothe her nerves. Tired and bordering on overwhelmed, with a squint, y/n huffs, “What do you want?” 

Jermajesty feigns offense, brows furrowing as he takes a somber tone, “I can’t talk to you now?” 

She scoffs, “When do you ever just talk? What, don’t feel like terrorizing me today?” It was his turn to roll his eyes. “Terrorize is a weird way to describe a few jokes,” he says with a wave of his, now visible hand. 

Before she can start rattling off the instances where Jermajesty absolutely did terrorize her, he cuts in again, this time with a quiet mumble, “I seriously did want to check on you. Didn’t realize it was a crime.” Y/n  knows better than to trust him, she swears she does. Maybe it was the tone of his voice, or the hurt expression painted on his face, but she felt her guard lower. Her eyebrows relax, and she almost feels bad for assuming the worst. Almost.

“My bad, Jermajesty. Yes I ha–” The words all but die on her tongue when she hears a decently loud ‘POP!’ and feels a warmth near her feet. There’s only about two seconds allowed for recognition. This asshole was sending pop-its careening toward her feet. Y/n tries to scale the lawn chair, but the slits in it send her feet right back into the cross-hairs.

“Jermajesty! Stop!” She screeches, practically dancing in the small area. He in fact, did not stop. It was almost like her terror was a motivator. The pop-its came faster, and she was terrified. If she wasn’t before, y/n was definitely overwhelmed now, and tears formed before she could stop them. Of course, her torturer noticed, “Aww, is the baby gonna cry?” He mocked, showing no sign of stopping his onslaught. 

She wasn’t ‘gonna’ do anything, the tears were hot and very present. That wasn’t really y/n’s main concern though. Remember her overindulgence? It was coming back to bite her in the ass. In her defence, she didn’t foresee herself dodging mini explosives when she ate as much as she did. 

The ambush only lasted around two minutes before Jermajesty’s father snapped his head in the direction of y/n’s cry for help, “Boy! Cut that out and go sit the hell down! What’s wrong with you?” The boy’s actions came to an immediate halt, knowing Jermaine's command outweighed his current amusement.

Y/n had never been more grateful for another human being in her, relatively short, life. Jermajesty let out an annoyed sigh, but ultimately retreated. As relieved as she was, the damage was already done, nausea had already begun sweeping over the girl. Her stomach churned, and with the swiftness of a fawn, y/n stumbled toward a trashcan. Unfortunately, luck was not on her side today, she made it about three steps forward before emptying the contents of her stomach onto the pavement.

Sounds of shock, displeasure, and pity ring throughout the backyard. Embarrassment and shame wrap her up into the world's most uncomfortable blanket as she continues to heave. She was sure now. She hates this fucker. 

Janet, who y/n has considered her godsend ever since the time with the gum, jumps on the situation like a commander, “Jermaine! Go get the baking soda from the kitchen. Randy, get the poor girl a new towel please.” 

They don't move, still baffled at what just took place. The woman lets out a tired sigh, and her voice raises a few decibels, “Now! Please!” Janet then turns her attention to poo  y/n, who is now reduced to dry heaving over the concrete. “Honey, I’m so sorry. You’ll be alright, okay?” 

Humiliation morphs into anger, and the disgruntled nine year old, nods absentmindedly. She isn’t really paying much attention to the reassurance though, too busy trying to get her body to understand that she can’t possibly throw her skeleton up too. All she can do in this moment is think of all the ways she could permanently remove that pest. 

While brooding, a grating sound falls on her ears. That demon is laughing. Not just a chuckle, no no, he is doubled over, in almost the same position as her, wheezing. Jermajesty smacks his older brother’s arm, who also seems to find the girl’s misfortune entertaining.

Y/n rises slowly, eyes shooting daggers in their direction. As intimidating as she wants to look, the evidence of her misfortune laying at her feet, and a little remaining on her lips just made the girl appear pitiful. That only garnered harder laughs from the two bozos across the yard.

 She opens her mouth, but it quickly closes as the reality sets in, she had effectively been made a fool of. Sure she could’ve expected this from Jermajesty, but seeing jaafar cackle alongside that fool really twisted the knife. Janet tells her to pay them no mind and ushers her off into the house to get cleaned up. Defeated yet again, y/n retreated with her head hung low, and tail tucked. 

This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment 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 didn’t help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with. 

Curves filling out, making everything in her closet look like a poor choice, a newfound hatred for her reproductive system, acne that showed her what true stubbornness looked like, having to navigate the terrors of high school, and feelings she did not enjoy having. Since when is that vermin attractive? Y/n didn’t have an answer, and that pissed her off more.

Her irritation reaches new heights as her family heads toward the Jackson’s home. She felt in her bones that today was not going to be a good day. Y/n still hadn’t forgiven him for the shit he pulled on the fourth way back when. The only upside to her, was that she had forgiven his older brother, and was looking forward to stealing glances at him through the night.

Things were calm when she arrived. Stepping out of the car and making her way to the door, y/n thought about civility, and just how long it would last. The answer? Not very.

Jermajesty started it, he always starts it. A pointed comment about how y/n was drooling over Jaafar, while she worked on hanging the ornament she made in art class, a yearly tradition for her. His jab earns a few chuckles…and a sound that could only be described as disgust from the older of the two boys. Y/n was sure she would implode. She snapped her head in his direction with a grimace, “Shut up, no I’m not!” (She absolutely was)

Jermajesty scoffs, “Suree, what else are you gonna lie about?” He asked with a smug look gracing his features. The girl leans into her teenage rage, “I lie about liking you all the time, can’t you tell?” The boy’s face falls flat, “You think I like you? I tolerate you because my family insists on bringing you around.” 

Y/n lets out a dry laugh, “I wish they didn’t, I can’t stand you. You have got to be one of the most infuriating people on the planet, not to mention, you’re a certified idiot. I hate that we even breathe the same air, so don’t worry about having to like me, Jermajesty.”

A beat of silence passes before the insults begin flying. He calls her stupid, she calls him ugly, he hits her with a ‘pizza face’ comment, and she delivers a devastating blow about how his ‘girlfriend’ has three other boyfriends. 

In that moment, Jermajesty all but lost what little sense he did have, “You can’t talk! Didn’t the entire football team bend you over two weeks ago?” 

Poor, poor y/n, she’s yet to figure out that in a battle of who can go lower, Jermajesty will always have her beat. It was an outright lie, one that caught the attention of everyone in the room. 

“You two, ENOUGH!” Y/n’s father booms, he then shifts his gaze toward his daughter. Y/n immediately tries to save her ass, “Dad, he’s lying! I swear, I’ve never even–” she stops speaking when the older man raises his hand. “We will talk about this at home, grab your things, now.”

Begrudgingly, she follows directions, making sure to grab her charger, phone, and the ornament, All while Jermaine profusely apologizes to her father for his son’s behavior.

She throws one more glance in Jermajesty’s direction, fully expecting to see the same smirk that always rests on his face when he lands her in hot water. Instead, y/n finds something akin to remorse. Jermajesty opens his mouth, but quickly shuts it when she sticks one finger in the air. He rolls his eyes and returns the gesture with a mock smile.and leaves the home with her head held high

Attraction be damned, the long conversation she is going to be forced to endure in her family's living room snuffed out whatever she was feeling for that insolent brat. 

For the first time in fourteen years, y/n hadn’t left the Jackson estate in tears. She did, however, leave with a bit of clarity. 

Here marks the day y/n realized battling Jermajesty was always going to be a losing game.

[Fall: November 25th, 2021. Codename: Older Brothers]

It had been approximately a year and a half since y/n last saw the jacksons in person. With covid, and the lockdown put in place because of it, she hasn’t really seen much of anybody. During this time,y/n had grown into what some would describe as a walking wet dream, intentionally, of course. Body to die for, skin as clear as glass, and a charm that was hard to resist. She wasn’t naive to this either, nuh-uh, y/n knows she’s a bad bitch, and she plans to use that to her advantage.

 Jaafar has become a new point of interest. At twenty, y/n knows exactly what her type is, and he checks every last box. She had already formulated a gameplan for this year's thanksgiving dinner. Hair styled to perfection, a manicure that cost a fortune, some little black dress that showed off every asset she’d gained, three spritzes of  a very expensive perfume, and the sexiest pair of heels she could find.

When she crosses under the threshold into the home she had grown to miss, she hears a few gasps, and a devious smile forms on her face. This is good, very good. She greets the family one-by-one with a hug, making small conversation with some. Most of the attendees comment on how good she looks, shocked to see the new version of the young woman before them. She giggles, and thanks them, moving through the room with an effortless grace.

When her eyes land on her target, who is already gawking at her, her smile grows large enough to show a perfect set of pearly white teeth. Y/n has every intention of fucking Jaafar. However, in her lust driven pursuit, she forgot to account for her biggest obstacle. Jer-fucking-majesty, who seems to be making it his personal mission to deter her from her goal. Before she can get her arms wrapped around Jaafar, the nuisance before her slides in between them, disrupting the exchange of greetings. Her arms drop and frustration cascades across her face.

“Y/n, it’s been a while.” He states, looking down at her. She can’t help the way her eyes find the back of her head. “Yes, it has Jermajesty. As is to be expected when a pandemic occurs.” He chuckles, “Well, you look good. Real good.” That comment nearly short-circuts her brain. Did her arch-nemesis just compliment her? She waits for the punchline, the cruel follow-up that always comes with a statement like that from him.

When it doesn’t, and she realizes he’s serious, she steps back a bit. “I–, thank…you.” She says slow, still skeptical. He nods once, but refuses to move. Y/n grows impatient, “Excuse me, I was in the middle of greeting Jaafar.” She mumbles. Jermajesty’s brows furrow, “Everybody else got a hug, I can’t?” She folds her lips together, unsure of how to navigate this new territory. She settles on a quick side-hug. “There, now can you move?” 

He kisses his teeth, and steps to the side. He watches how the girl he spent so much time driving up a wall practically melts into his brother’s arms. He notices how far you went to get Jaafar to notice. He notices how his brother inhales deeply, how his hands slide dangerously low on y/n’s waistline, how you didn’t correct his brother’s grip, and most importantly, he can’t help but notice that all he got was a fucking side-hug. 

Why does he even care? It’s not like you mean anything to him, right. Wrong, very wrong. Jermajesty is pissed. He’s spent so much time making you look unappealing, publicly commenting on every imperfection, spreading rumors to keep everyone away, intentionally ruining dates and relationships, oh and most notably, since December of ‘15, convincing his brother that he should want nothing to do with you. All in the name of love of course, you didn’t know that. You didn’t need to know that. He made sure that the girl he’s been infatuated with since the age of four, didn’t have a clue about the strings he pulled in the background. 

Jermajesty knew what he was about to do was wrong, but in his beautifully twisted mind, it would be justified. While the girl, his girl, revels in the affection she’s receiving from his older brother, he grabs a cup resting on the dinner table. She was so blissfully unaware, cute.

The chilled champagne runs down y/n’s back, and serves as a stark reminder to never trust the man standing right behind her. She whips around so fast she nearly falls. With vitriol running through her veins, yet again, she slaps Jermajesty so hard her hand stings. His head is turned, and his hand comes up to his cheek,  “What. The. Fuck, is your problem? Huh? Do you ever stop? I mean seriously, I can’t fucking st–” He wears a smile and nods as she rants on and on about how she hates him and can’t .

Jermajesty lets her go on for another minute or two before he grabs her wrist and drags her through the house and out the door. Despite her best effort, his grip is firm,she can’t do much but stumble behind him, and let the expletives fall from her lips in protest.

Once the cool air wraps around them, Jermajesty spins to face her, still holding on. He leans in close, whatever y/n had planned to say next evaporated from her mind. His eyes are dark, and his face is devoid of any amusement. It quickly registers in the young lady’s mind that Jermajesty means business. She remains silent, real intimidation settles over her as she waits for him to say something.

Jermajesty then moves his lips to her ear, “If you ever pull that shit again, I’ll show you how cruel I can really be. Stay away from Jaafar, last warning.” Y/n stood there frozen, jermajesty releases his grip on the girl, walking past her, and heading back toward the house. She was utterly baffled, and admittedly pissed because, who was he to tell her who she could and couldn’t interact with. Still,even with the cold champagne that has now ruined her dress, y/n couldn’t ignore the warmth that settled deep in her belly. As she stood there processing, she came to a conclusion.

This year's Thanksgiving marks the day that the girl, who entered a feud with humanity's biggest terror all those years ago, realizes the attraction she thought she snuffed out wasn’t dead. Just buried.

[Summer: July 25th 2026. Codename: Quit Playin’ With Me]

Admittedly, you knew what you were doing. Jermajesty hadn’t made much of a move since Thanksgiving, five fucking years ago. Yeah the fights had morphed into an aggressive sort of flirting, that began to serve more as foreplay. And sure, everytime you showed interest in another man Jermajesty had more than enough to say about it, but aside from that, you hadn’t made much progress. So, you figured he needed a little push. What better place to make that happen than at Jaafar’s birthday party?

In all honesty, you wanted to know if Jermajesty would make good on his promise. It was a fifty-fifty gamble with him though, you were either going to leave very satisfied, or teary-eyed, or both. Still, it was a risk you were more than willing to take at this point.

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 wasn’t for anyone’s attention but his. You made a bee-line for Jaafar, greeting as many as you could in the process. When you reached him, a smile spread across his face. He sat there, on a pool chair, in all his glory, in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, and sunglasses. “Look at you, when’d you get so fine mama?” Though you weren’t here for him, it didn’t hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.

You cracked a grin, “Been that, baby.” He chuckled, and opened his arms up for you. The scenario felt familiar, except this time, when you leaned in, there was no Jermajesty. Jaafar wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you down into his lap with a quickness that startled you. He nuzzled his face into your neck and spoke, soft and gentle, “So, how you been? Haven’t had time to catch up since we first started filming.” 

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your body, “Been fine, same-old, same-old. Heard the movies doing well, hot-shot. As it should, by the way, you did amazing. Your uncle would be proud.” Jaafar gives your waist a small squeeze, “Thank you, that means a lot coming from you, y/n.” You opened your mouth to assure that it’s the truth, but before you can, a shadow is cast over you. A shiver runs down your spine, and you sit up a little straighter.

His appearance matches his brother’s, except for the sunglasses, he wants to make sure you look him in the eye. His voice is chillingly calm, as he glares down at you, “Get up.” You shift a little on Jaafar’s lap. The older brother speaks first, “She doesn’t have to move, if you don’t like it go inside, or away.” Jermajesty doesn’t spare so much as a sideways glance toward Jaafar, eyes still trained on yours with a hard stare, “You have two fucking seconds to get the fuck off his lap.”

With that, your brain finally catches up, and you stand embarrassingly fast. Jermajesty doesn’t miss a beat, and begins walking toward the entrance of the home “Bring your ass in the house, now.” You throw Jaafar an apologetic glance, and quickly trail his brother. Jermajesty moves through the house with an aura of danger surrounding him. If you weren’t so giddy, you might’ve been a little scared for what was to come.

When you reach his bedroom door, he holds it open for you, looking at you expectantly. Slowly, you walk in, stopping just inside the door, unsure of what to do next. He slips in behind you, the door shuts. You turn your head to see his hand resting on the handle. He takes a deep breath,

 “Before I do, what I’m about to do, you need to let me know if you want this as bad as I do.” He says, tone measured, controlled, just as chilling as it was before. You nod twice, and he shakes his head, “Words. Y/n. Use them.” You let out a shaky breath, “Yes, I want–”

The rest of the sentence dies on your tongue as a hand wraps around your throat, squeezing enough to make a point, but not enough to cause any harm. Your back meets the door behind you, and a gasp attempts to leave your body. Jermajesty catches your lips in a searing, possessive kiss, all teeth, and tongue with little room left to breathe. You all but melt right there, he breaks the kiss, leaving a string of spit connecting the two of you, and a pout forms on your face, 

“You just don’t listen, do you baby? Hm?” You looked up at Jermajesty, pupils blown. His hand, serving as the prettiest necklace you’ve ever owned, shifts into a firm grip under your jaw, he leans in, lips brushing your ear. The already damp spot formed on the fabric nestled between your legs starts to grow, “You just had to keep pushing. I told you what would happen, and look, you did it anyway, didn’t you?”

You try to nod, but he holds you steady, “Come on, baby. Answer me,” When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, “Mm, there you go. Not listening again,” 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, “That’s right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?”

The hand around your throat slips further down, fingers ghosting over the hardened buds beneath your swim-top. Gently, he toys with the thin fabric before his fingers 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. 

A sultry sound leaves your mouth, one that sounds like music to his ears. Jermajesty groans, and with a ‘pop’, removes himself from your chest. With his voice barely above a whisper, he makes you one more promise. “I’m gon’ show you who the fuck you belong to tonight.” The ruined bottoms do very little to hide just how badly you want that. His right hand glides down the length of your body, stopping just shy of the waistband.

Jermajesty searches your eyes for hesitancy one last time, when he doesn't find it, his fingers dip below the last barrier between the two of you. He swipes a finger up your slit, making you shudder, “So fucking wet,” he whispers, undoubtedly to himself. The pads of his fingers are rough, calloused, and add a delicious friction as his thumb finds your little bundle of nerves.

As he works it in painfully slow, steady circles, two fingers enter you, and a pornographic moan leaves your mouth, “Baby please,” you beg, as he continues to tease, pumping them slowly. He chuckles, “Oh? m’baby now? I thought I was a piece of shit you couldn’t stand.” The huff you let out tells him he has you right where he wants you. He curls his fingers and just brushes past that spongy spot, your frustrated whine rings out in the air. Jermajesty laughs softly,  “This not enough for you baby?Didn't know you were so greedy.” 

Annoyance began to seep into your bones. If he wanted to play so bad, then fine, “You’re taking too long, I can always ask Jaafar to handle this, you know?”

Jermajesty freezes, not long before he rips his hand away from your pussy, rises to his full height and grabs you by your waist. You let out a surprised squeak, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his torso as he hoists you up, and walks you toward the bed. He isn’t gentle as he tosses you onto it. Your body comes off of the mattress in a small bounce. Your eyes rake over the man standing above the bed, the tent in his trunks makes your eyes widen. Good, he wants you to watch. Jermajesty makes quick work of the shorts, tossing them off in some corner of his room. 

Good god, you knew it was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. He’s neatly trimmed, there’s a small 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 isn’t so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans over, “Open your mouth,” you obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, “That’s it,” he picks up the pace, your hand shoots out to clutch his forearm in an attempt to slow him down and quell the fire quickly spreading through your body. “Move your hand,” he murmurs, while bullying your g-spot with precision. The sounds of your sopping pussy bounce off the walls, as he pushes you closer to release. “Please, Please, Jer…Please!”

You aren’t even sure what it is that you’re begging for, he has you dazed and drunk off the feeling of him, and he hasn’t even fucked you yet. A cry leaves your lips, and you grip his arm tighter, “He can’t make you beg like this, pretty girl.” Tears form in your eyes as you just about tip over the edge, “Jer— oh fuck, Maj… gonna– cum!” Again, his fingers leave your core. The sudden denial leaves you frustrated beyond belief, a wail rips from your chest.

“What the fuck–”, Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto your stomach. “Shut the fuck up.” He teases you again, running his tip along your slit, “You wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.”you arch a little deeper, “Mm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?” 

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 can’t do much but cry out, gripping the sheets as the same heat from before begins to pool in your belly. Jermajesty drills into that spongy spot over and over, the pleasure overwhelms you, your jolts forward involuntary. At the sight, his sweat covered brow furrows, he grips your waist with both hands, pulling you back onto him. A heavy hand cracks down on your ass twice,

“Don’t you dare fucking run. Take this shit, baby– fuck! Take. It.” Your eyes hit the back of your head, fisting the sheets so hard you were sure they’d rip, as he slams into you fervently. 

The sound of skin clapping echoes in the room, his headboard hits the wall, matching his tempo. Jermasty lets out a deep groan that goes straight to your core.

“Shit—, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.” As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow, “It’s yours, Jermajesty— Fuck it’s yours!” You scream out. Though you can't see it, a toothy smile forms on your lover's face. While still inside you, he rolls over onto your side, “Say it again, baby, louder,” you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. “That’s right, this my pussy,” he says, bringing one of your legs over his 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. “What the hell–” You startle, brought out of your pleasure induced state by the sudden intrusion. Jermajesty doesn't stop his ministrations for a single second. Instead, his hand leaves your bundle of nerves and grips your jaw, making you face him. 

“Cum on this dick and show him who you belong to, baby.” He brings his hand back down to your clit, doubling down. He fucks you harder, thrusts faster than before leave your head reeling even more than it already has been. Jermasesty draws new patterns on your clit, it takes you ten seconds to realize he’s spelling out his name. A foreign pleasure shoots through your body, “Jer, wait– I think I’m gonna pee! Slow– Fuck…Slow down!” He spells faster, bullies that spot just a few more times, licks the shell of your ear, and whispers, “Let me have it baby, prove to me that you’re mine.” Your eyes roll back, mouth forming into a perfect ‘O’ shape, before your release cascades down your thighs, and his, onto the bed.

Jermajesty pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. “Did so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.” His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned 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 he’s got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks. 

When you two finally come down, he sits you up gently. Breathing labored, and very clearly blissed out, you look at him in your daze, “That was amazing, Jer,” He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. “ –I can’t help but wonder though, what made you so…possessive?” Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, “Y/n, baby. I’ve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if I’m a little 'possessive.’” 

You weren’t sure what answer you expected, but you knew it wasn't that. Though, when you think back, you can’t help but feel that you let him slide with the shit he’s pulled through the years for that very same reason.

“Hm, well I think I love you too Jer. I would love to dwell on it, but I’m tired, sweaty, and I think we just permanently scarred your brother.” You rambled on.

The man rolled his eyes, “We can talk in the morning, Jaafar’ll be fine, we can shower together, and sleep after.” You couldn’t help yourself. You tried though, “How well does ‘apology pussy’ go over with your brother?” Jermajesty’s face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena. “Y/n, quit fucking playin’ with me.” Your laughs died down to a hum, “Okay, okay. You're sleeping on the side with the wet spot though!” Jermajesty kissed his teeth playfully, it was worth it.

[whatdreamsaremadeofbitch]

SHAT‼️🥵😮‍💨🤌🏾

[redemptioninthe4ethers]

Valid! Thank you for the support, my love 🤍

[whatdreamsaremadeofbitch]

Np😌🫶🏾

[overclassy]

[angelynnss]

ugh hes so incredibly handsome and he looks like he smells like baby powder 😩

[mjsfedorahat]

Lisa is the only woman in Michael's life y'all consistently give grace to, and it's pretty obvious why: she's white, and A LOT of y'all live through her because of her marriage to him. 😭

Y'all will criticize D*ana (rightfully so), Stephanie (rightfully so), and pretty much EVERYONE else who was in his life for 50 days and 50 nights. But the second someone brings up the fact that Lisa was in the tabloids calling him weird, adding fuel to the nasty accusations and smear campaigns against him. Had she been a POC/Black Person we wouldn’t be hearing the end of it!

Don't even get me started on how y'all act like Lisa was the only woman in his life up until his death and that every time he spoke about a woman it had to be about her.

Michael made it pretty clear that he was involved with multiple women throughout his career, but he respected their decisions to stay out of the public eye.

[femalekanye]

real shit. ion know why tf this white lady has such a hold on this fandom. yall niggas will let white women get away with anything but be ready to up fye on a black woman for just existing. foh.

[mjsfedorahat]

Lisa is the only woman in Michael's life y'all consistently give grace to, and it's pretty obvious why: she's white, and A LOT of y'all live through her because of her marriage to him. 😭

Y'all will criticize D*ana (rightfully so), Stephanie (rightfully so), even his own SIBLINGS and pretty much EVERYONE else who was in his life for 50 days and 50 nights. But the second someone brings up the fact that Lisa was in the tabloids calling him weird, adding fuel to the nasty accusations and smear campaigns against him now it’s “parasocial.” Had she been a POC/Black Person we wouldn’t be hearing the end of it!

Like imagine if anyone else in his life said that they thought Michael should h*ng from a tree? Y’all would bring it up every chance y’all get.

Don't even get me started on how y'all act like Lisa was the only woman in his life up until his death and that every time he spoke about a woman it had to be about her.

Michael made it pretty clear that he was involved with multiple women throughout his career, but he respected their decisions to stay out of the public eye.

[introvertsnation]

@introvertsnation

My Instagram | Youtube

[starmosaics]

Moon-Mars synastry in couples

18+ Minors go away

Side note: If you have any malefics in aspect to either of your guys' Mars or Moon this will manifest as being more of an emotionally turbulent and unhealthy dynamic.

The Moon-Mars aspect might be one of my favorite aspects in synastry, especially with the trine, sometimes the conjunction. When both people are capable of meeting each other with emotional maturity, patience and proper communication, this is a wonderful aspect to have in synastry. Both natives will feel a natural inclination to be around each other—there's an instinctual response on both ends to deepen the connection relatively quick. This is often a very stimulating, passionate connection. There's an incredibly strong physical attraction towards one another to the point where when they do finally come together, they'll have a hard time keeping their hands off of each other. The Mars person will want to be near the Moon person and the Moon person is usually receptive to the Mars person's gestures. Sensually, this is an incredible aspect to have in synastry. It is likely that the Mars person feels for the Moon intensely at first, but doesn't want to scare the Moon person off with how much they desire them so they wait until the Moon person shows reciprocity.

The Mars person always wants to be touching or be near the Moon person and the Moon person secretly loves it. The Moon person is incredibly magnetizing to the Mars person and the Moon person will likely be super attracted to how the Mars person asserts themselves in the connection. They love how the Mars person takes initiative in the relationship and feels pretty called to accept and respond to the Mars person's gestures. The Mars person can put a lot of effort in to satisfy the Moon person on multiple levels and the Moon person can help soften the edge of the Mars person.

Sexually, there's usually an incredible amount of desire shared between one another and the sex??? Absolutely insane. The attraction between them is primal, passion-filled, erotic, and steamy. This connection is all-consuming and both are irresistible to one another once a relationship is formed, especially on a physical and emotional level. As most folks say, this is the baby making aspect. This synastry is so good for sexual affluence between one another.

On the flip side, a common challenge between the two is that during arguments/disagreements, the Mars person can have an incredibly short fuse with the Moon person and/or stonewall them if they have a harder time with openly communicating with the Moon person, especially on a vulnerable level. The Moon is the softest placement in our charts and because of that, the Moon person can become easily wounded with Mars' coercive nature. The Mars person needs to understand that it's not them vs. the Moon person when in conflict and that there's no need to be overly defensive or to blow things out of proportion. Mars is keen and precise and knows how to push the Moon person's buttons and get under their skin. If not mindful, the Mars person can initiate petty little arguments on an almost daily-basis, unfortunately provoking the Moon person to have a reaction. They need to understand that they're dealing with the more vulnerable, touchy parts of the Moon person and if the Mars person is inconsiderate of the Moon person's feelings, this is when the toxicity and emotional turbulence begins. The Mars person also needs to be mindful as to how they respond (or lack-thereof) to the Moon person.

The Moon person will often take things to heart if the Mars person is too direct and aggressive with them, leading them to emotionally retract or carry feelings of resentment—they can end up internalizing a lot within this connection in worse cases. The Moon person can also be quite reactive toward the Mars person, especially towards their actions and behaviors so the Moon person needs to be mindful of taking everything on a personal level and reacting out of emotion. Mars needs to understand that they can easily impact the Moon person's emotional security and that there's risk for creating turmoil within the connection.

[expressions-of-nature]

by Kokoro Yume

[hawkinssindiana]

and when i was shipwrecked, i thought of you

insp.

[tolerateit]

seven, taylor swift

[brownsugarletters]

Poetic Justice

Michael Jackson x Black!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Michael watches poetic justice for the first time and is… surprised by Janet’s language

CONTENT: super sweet fluff, post Dangerous era pre History era, era 1993, suggestive content

Author’s Note: GOT HIM GOIN CRAZY FOR THAT PU NA NA NA NAAAAA (iykyk)

All week, Michael had been talking to anyone who would listen about his baby sister’s new movie. Poetic Justice had just released, and Michael was over the moon about it. It had only been out a short while, but Michael had watched the trailer more times than he would admit.

Finally, the copy he personally requested was delivered to Neverland. Needless to say, Michael waited patiently like a kid on Christmas for you to wake up from your nap so that he could put it on for y’all as soon as you woke up.

“I’m telling you baby, this is Janet’s big break. She’s always wanted to be an actress.”

Michael said to you as he organized a little spread of snacks on the side table. He kept adjusting like everything had to be perfect. You were already curled up in a recliner with a fuzzy blanket, still rubbing sleep from your eyes as you watched him bustle about the room. He’d checked the sound twice and dimmed the lights just enough so he could still see you.

Once he was satisfied, he dropped into the big recliner with you and immediately reached for you, tugging you close beside him. His fingers laced through yours instinctively.

“It’s her first real lead in a film. I wanna see what she does with it.”

You curled into him as he kept talking— babbling, really, about all of the different facets of the film he was excited about. He gestured to the cover of the VHS tape and said,

“And this guy Tupac. He’s really something special too. I saw Juice while I was waiting for this one y’know. Not really my type of film, but he was great. Good music too, he really cares about people.” He nodded to himself as he studied the cover of the VHS.

“You been listening’ to Pac, baby?” You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself. When it came to music, Michael did not discriminate. He listened to it all, it was important to him to stay up to date on what the kids were listening to.

Then he looked over at you, making sure you were locked in like he was.

“I know people think I stay in my own world, but I pay attention. I know what’s going on out there. The music, the films, the culture… I see it.” He gave your hand a little squeeze, soft and sure. “This one is special cause it’s my baby sister up there with him. I want her to be great.”

The lights went all the way down and Michael shifted closer, arm settling around your shoulders and thumb already stroking absently along your arm. He was quiet now, focused. Adorning that same concentrated look he always got when something really mattered to him.

On the screen the movie began, and for a while he was completely into it. He happily munched on his popcorn and smiled to himself every time Janet came on screen, nodding a little at certain lines, completely proud and present.

Then the scene came.

Janet looked at Tupac on the big screen and said, clear as day:

“Let’s cut the bullshit. What you really want from me? You wanna smell this punani?”

Michael’s whole body went still next to you. Instantly, he felt his face warm with embarrassment. It happened so quickly you actually felt the temperature change next to you. His head snapped toward you, eyes wide, mouth slightly open in shock like a little boy who just heard someone say a bad word.

“…What did she just say?”

Before you could spare him, he was already grabbing the remote and rewinding it. Next to him, you watched in amusement as you watched the gears turn. He was clearly using his context clues.

“What does that mean?” he asked, voice a little higher than usual. You couldn’t hold it. The laugh came out sharp and full-bellied. Michael stared at you in bewilderment while his baby sister talked about punani ten feet tall on the screen. He felt like he was the only one not in on the joke.

“You never heard that before, Mike?” you managed between laughs.

“No!” He looked genuinely scandalized, tips of his ears surely turning pink. “I’ve never heard my baby sister talk like that. We didn’t talk like that growing up. What is a— what did she call it?”

“Punani.”

He repeated it under his breath and the word rolled off his tongue like the word itself might get him in trouble. He continued staring at you wide eyed as he waited for you to elaborate.

“And that means…?”

You raised your eyebrows and gave him a look that said you’re kidding me right.

“Mike. You grew up with three sisters. No way you never heard none of this.”

“I didn’t! I haven’t!” He was giggling too now, prodding at your side with one of his long fingers. “C’mon, tell me what it means.” You sat up a little, grinning like this was your time to shine.

Then, you started counting on your fingers.

“Coochie. Coota Cat. Pum-pum. Fat ma. Punani…” You paused, then bounced your eyebrows at him. “Pussy.”

Instantly, Michael made a sound like the air had been knocked out of him and his hands flew up to cover his face.

“Oh my God. Janet Damita Jo Jackson” he whispered to himself.

The teasing didn’t stop once his embarrassment kicked in. You kept going, laughing as you gave him more context. You explained where some of the words came from and how common they were.

Michael still hadn’t taken his hands down. He peeked through his fingers once, eyes wide and shining with pure scandalized curiosity. immediately, he covered his face again when you kept talking. He looked exactly like a little kid who’d just been told the real meaning of a word he wasn’t supposed to know.

“Stop,” he begged, still giggling, still hiding. “Baby, please— I can’t.” His whole face felt hot and and every new detail you gave only made it worse.

“How do you know all of this, girl?” He asked finally, pulling you closer to him by your hips.

“I was raised by Black women. What you thought?” Your voice had the “duh” tone laced all through it.

Michael was giggling but he still looked bewildered by the whole situation.

“How do you know so many different words for… it?”

“I told you. Black women. We got a whole thesaurus.”

After a stretch of silence he finally dropped his hands. His face was still warm, but that little mischievous spark had started to creep back in. He glanced at you sideways, trying— and failing to keep a straight face.

“I love your punani, baby” you smacked his shoulder and erupted into giggles. “Was that it? Did I use it right?”

Leaning in, you pressed soft wet kisses to his lips.

“Yes Mikey, that’s exactly how you use it” when you pulled away you were still squishing his cheeks. He looked at you with big doe eyes, hair falling slightly in his eyes and said,

“Growing up with brothers I thought I’d heard it all. I might have to call my mama…. Ask her if she ever heard of this punani. I need to know if this is something everybody knew but me.” He reflected for a moment then added, “Then ima tell her Janet out here sayin it on a movie screen… she not gon’ believe it.”

“Boy, don’t ask yo mama that! Ms. Katherine would have a heart attack!”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

please respect my work 💌

Everything posted here is written by @brownsugarletters. Please do not repost, copy, translate, claim as your own, upload to AI tools, or share my writing outside of Tumblr without permission.

I put a lot of care into these stories, so please keep them here and respect my space.

Taglist: @plan3tch1ld @delictezz @1andonlytashae @artflooo @man-in-the-mirror58 @sunshineyrosie @hiiioliviaxoxo @narratedillusions @animegamerfox @mysterioussag @blameditontheboogie @vinnstarr @anonymou000000 @j5rneymercies @khxna @sayyoulovemeziya @ttangerinexo @cvntttyybumblegumprincess @loveismymessage @mvsticmoony @sugarysweetooth @cherrishkissed @thebabykashmere @naturallykae @moonwalkarchives @savagenctzen @silentonthedancefloor @leiserenityy @agenuinedegen @missharper33 @ggformike @angelfacediary @alientee @divaaprincess @f0c3 @therubyeffect @rcttenfae @studio03 @f0c3 @sqrixm @pinkiieex @justboredroaming @kiwikisses20 @loveposiie @escuzimwa @blkkbratt @ooooglymoooogly @alleycat808 @queenshitbitchsblog (lmk if I forgot anyone)

[dailyflicks]

Michael B. Jordan in Sinners (2025) dir. Ryan Coogler

[leftoversl1ce]

Jack O'Connell - Sinners (2025) So looking forward to this movie, these shots are already giving me so much inspiration.

[murfpersonalblog]

Beauty out of Butchery: The Blues & Black Pain in Sinners

Delta Slim's backstory scene effed me up something fierce. IMO it's the most important scene in the film, cuz Delta's story sums up the entirety of Sinners' premise. He's describing what happened to him & his brother Rice; how some poor African American men had to hustle to survive (the Smokestack Twins), only to get hemmed up by corrupt racist cops who decided to exploit them for money (Mr. Hogwood & the KKK "selling" the Twins the sawmill). Rice was a Blues musician who wanted to get right with God & be a preacher (Sammie's dad, Jedidiah Moore), while Slim just drank his own money away (the Twins' dad, Papa Moore). Rice gets on the train for Arkansas to make something of himself (Chicago/the juke joint), only for the KKK to racially profile him & condemn him as a sinning criminal thief, murder & rapist just cuz he was a successful musician (Remmick vs Sammie); siccing the white mob on Rice to have him castrated, hung & killed (the vampires).

Delta's reaction to telling his story is first to start moaning in grief, reliving the pain of his brother's death (Smoke). But his moans start turning into musical hums, as he channels his pain into the Blues, making beauty out of butchery (Sammie).

Slim's story & singing immediately touches Sammie, a budding Blues musician, who starts humming timidly in the backseat. But his favorite cousin Stack is there, as always (enabling both his good and bad habits). Stack supports Sammie by gifting him the guitar in an earlier scene (he lied that it once belonged to Blues legend Charlie Patton, when really it was Papa Moore's); then in this scene Stack encourages Sammie to play the guitar for Slim.

The men enjoy a nice jam session for the rest of the long ride down the cotton fields where their enslaved ancestors had toiled on plantations for so many centuries--where the Blues started, with the griots' African hymns & the elders' Negro spirituals--which Delta's scene first opens with, as they drove past his former prison inmates singing as they worked the chain gang (the prison industrial complex as modern day slavery)--everything coming full circle.

This movie is effing amazing.

[campmiasmas]

SINNERS 2025, dir. Ryan Coogler

[blackdisneyprince]

[moonwalker0400]