Star

Something about Chris commenting this on Madison’s engagement post makes my heart so happy🥹😭

I was wondering if you would do a fic with Jaafar x shy reader where the reader is a little younger then him but they haven’t been very intimate cause she’s so shy but somehow Jaafar finds out that she has a praise kink and messes with her??

If you’re not comfortable that’s completely fine but I love all your fics btw 💕

Find out

Jaafar x shy! Reader

Summary: You and Jaafar haven't been intimate because of how shy you are. Eventually Jaafar figures out you have a praise kink and messes with you.

The large, sunlit studio was silent except for the soft scratch of your pencil against your sketchbook. You kept your head down, focusing intensely on shading the sharp angle of Jaafar’s jawline.

Even though you two had been dating for several months, his presence still made your heart flutter. You were a few years younger than him, and your natural shyness often made you hold back. You hadn’t been fully intimate yet, always pulling away or freezing up when things got too heavy, paralyzed by your own self consciousness. Jaafar, ever patient and deeply perceptive, never pushed you and just waited.

Jaafar was across the room, quietly looking through a stack of reference photos on the desk. You thought he was completely distracted. What you didn't realize was that your phone, sitting face up next to his hand, had just lit up with a notification from a private reading app you frequented.

Curiosity got the better of him. He glanced down, his eyes scanning the lock-screen preview of a bookmarked article titled: Understanding the Psychology of a Praise Kink: Why Hearing "Good Girl" Changes Everything.

Jaafar froze, his dark eyes widening slightly as the pieces suddenly fell into place. Your blushing, your breathlessness when he complimented your art, the way you melted whenever he told you he was proud of you it all made perfect sense.

A slow, thoughtful smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He didn't say a word, ge picked up his jacket, walked over, and leaned down to kiss the top of your head."I have to run to a production meeting, beautiful," he murmured, his voice smooth and steady. "I'll be back in an hour wait for me?"

"Okay," you whispered, your cheeks instantly warming up.

----------------------------------------------------------

True to his word, Jaafar returned exactly an hour later. The the heavy studio door clicked shut behind him, the atmosphere in the room changed. He didn't sit across the room this time. He walked straight toward your couch, unbuttoning his top collar button with a deliberate, slow movement.

"Show me what you worked on while I was gone," he requested softly, standing right over you.Your fingers trembled slightly as you handed him the sketchbook. He took it, his gaze moving from the page straight to your eyes. He could see how nervous you were, your fingers anxiously tugging at the hem of your oversized sweater.

"You drew this of me?" he asked.You nodded quickly, holding your breath."It’s absolutely beautiful baby," Jaafar said, his voice dropping an octave, he stepped closer, trapping you against the cushions. "You did such a wonderful job for me. Look at how perfect these lines are. You’re so incredibly talented, sweetheart."

A sudden, intense shiver ran straight down your spine. The specific weight of his words made your stomach flip in a way it never had before. You looked down, trying to hide your burning face in your collar. "T-thank you, Jaafar."

"Hey," he murmured, placing two fingers under your chin, gently forcing you to look up at him. His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a playful mischief you hadn't seen before. "Why are you hiding mama? You did a good deed, don't you want to be praised for it mhm?"

Your breath hitched. The word praised echoed loudly in your chest. Jaafar sat down right next to you, his thigh pressing firmly against yours. The physical closeness usually made you retreat, but the tone of his voice acted like an anchor, holding you perfectly still."You're always so quiet," Jaafar whispered, leaning in until his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

"So well behaved, I've been giving you so much space because I thought you were scared of me. I think I finally figured out what you actually need."

He slid his hand down to your wrist, wrapping his long fingers gently but firmly around it, anchoring your hand to your lap."Jaafar..." you gasped out, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"Tell me the truth pretty girl," he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you like it when I tell you you're doing well? Does it make you feel good when I tell you how perfect you are for me?"

You couldn't answer. You were completely paralyzed by the sheer embarrassment of being completely perceived, your deepest, hidden secret laid bare. You tried to turn your head away, a tiny, whimper escaping your throat."Ah, look at that," Jaafar teased, a low, rumbling chuckle vibrating in his chest. He shifted, pinning you gently beneath his weight on the deep sofa, his hands framing your face. "You're shaking, are you being a good girl for me right now? Tell me."

"Please," you whispered, tears of sheer arousal and shyness pricking the corners of your eyes." Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want to hear." He leaned down, kissing the sensitive spot right beneath your jaw, making your entire body arch into him. He felt the sudden, desperate surrender in your posture. Your usual hesitation was entirely gone, replaced by a needy, breathless compliance.

"Tell me I'm... tell me I'm doing good," you sobbed out softly, completely throwing your modesty out the window.Jaafar paused, looking down at you with a gaze full of affection. He ran his thumb gently across your lower lip."You are doing so beautifully," he promised, his voice thick with genuine emotion. "You're being so brave for me right now, that's it, breathe for me. You're perfect every single part of you is so perfect for me."

As his lips finally met yours in a deep, unhurried, and completely uninhibited kiss, you realized your shyness hadn't disappeared Jaafar had turned it into the very thing that finally brought you completely together.

Also them: Worship Elvis who married a 15 year old girl that he met when she was 14 and he was 24. As well as starring in movies with pedophilic scenes sexualizing little girls.

　　　　　JACKSON.

ⲱⲥ. 𝟮𝟭𝟲𝟱.

𝒔𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. ━━ ༉‧ 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 ━ 𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗱𝗿𝘂𝗻𝗸. 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾'𝗌 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄𝗌 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗳𝗮𝗺𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗮𝗿, 𝖻𝗎𝗍... 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝗈𝗍 𝖺 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 .ᐣ 𝒑𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. ━━ ༉‧ 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗂𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗋.ᐟ𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝒙 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽.ᐟ𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝒄𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬. ━━ ༉‧ 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿. 𝖾𝗌𝗍𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉. 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝗅𝗈𝗒𝖺𝗅!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋. 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾!𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅. 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗌 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅 𝗂𝗌 𝖺 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆. 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖾𝖽!𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖺𝖾𝗅. 𝖽𝗋𝗎𝗇𝗄 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖿𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌. 𝒂𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞. ━━ ༉‧ based on this thought i had at the beginning of the month. i believe it turned out fine .ᐣ and way cuter than i thought . . . also, writing a drunk person’s dialogue is harder than i thought it would be😭 enjoy .ᐟ thank you for reading and for the support .ᐟ 𝒕𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. ━━ ༉‧ @unknwnbrii @moonwalker4you @platanita @holyfujjj @jenniversity @faerieglitter555 @trizixi1 @absdoesnothaveabs @ruby-angel052 @meowswrites @thebrunetteswan @peritinkers @mrsshamone @equallyshaw @hotnmysterious7 @parasolprincss @realgibby @emma3078 @feenin4dietcoke @eternal-life94 @miratate @edna-skiffens @michaelswifejackson @softformj @argentinemango @misscowboyhat @pytforever @a-motherfcking-fish @iwannarockwu @lestatress

michael during the bad tour rehearsal in Rome, 1987

————

I’m All You’ll Ever Need - Jermajesty Jackson

based on this request

pairing: obsessed! jermajesty x bsf! reader

summary: you work as a production assistant for the michael movie where you meet jermajesty

content: possessive, obsessive behavior. jermajesty is a bit toxic in this one.

wc: 2.5k

Part of working on a film about Michael Jackson meant that there was never really a moment where you could forget how large the project was.

Even on the days when your feet hurt from standing for hours, your hands were full of call sheets, and you had spent the last six hours running from one side of the set to the other, there was always something extraordinary happening around you.

You were a production assistant. It wasn't glamorous. Not usually.

Most days consisted of fetching coffee, relaying messages, finding missing pieces of equipment, organizing schedules, and doing whatever else needed to be done before someone important realized it needed to be done.

But you loved it.

You loved the chaos. The constant movement. The feeling that you were somehow a small, insignificant part of something much bigger than yourself.

And, of course, there was the fact that Jaafar Jackson was playing Michael.

You had met Jaafar early into production. He was kind, funny, and surprisingly easy to talk to despite the fact that his last name alone could make almost anyone nervous.

You had been working near set when he had first introduced you to his brother.

"That's my little brother, Jermajesty."

You had looked up from the clipboard in your hands.

Jermajesty had smiled.

And that was it.

Nothing dramatic.

No instant realization that your life was about to become something entirely different.

Just a smile.

"Hi," he had said.

"Hi."

You had been shy.

Jermajesty noticed that immediately.

He noticed everything about you immediately.

The way your fingers tightened around your clipboard whenever you were nervous. The way you mindlessly played with your curls when you were trying to focus. The way you smiled at people even when you were exhausted.

He noticed the way you always apologized when someone else bumped into you.

He noticed how you never seemed to know what to do when a man flirted with you.

And, more importantly, he noticed that you didn't seem to have very many men in your life.

Not close ones, anyway.

That was what made it so easy.

Jermajesty didn't begin by trying to make you fall in love with him.

That would have been too obvious.

Instead, he became your friend. Your best friend.

It happened gradually enough that you didn't even notice it happening.

At first, he would only come to set when Jaafar was working.

Then he started coming even when Jaafar wasn't around.

"You're here again?" You had teased one afternoon.

Jermajesty had shrugged, leaning against the table beside you. "Maybe I like it here."

You raised your brow. "You don't even work here."

He didn’t hesitate with the response. "Maybe I like seeing you."

He had said it so casually that you hadn't thought anything of it.

You had laughed.

Jermajesty had watched you do it.

He liked your laugh. He liked that he was the one who had made you do it.

Soon, he was texting you, insistent on getting your number to make sure you got home okay one night.

‘Good morning.’

‘Did you eat?’

‘Where are you?’

‘You working today?’

He always seemed to know when you were tired.

Always seemed to know when something was bothering you.

And you had never had a guy friend like that before.

So you assumed it was normal.

You assumed all guy friends wanted to know where you were.

You assumed all guy friends got irritated when you didn't answer their texts.

You assumed all guy friends wanted to spend nearly every free moment with you, even if it just meant taking a nap.

You assumed it was normal for Jermajesty to stare down every man who spoke to you for too long. You assumed it was normal for him to ask questions about them afterward.

"Who was that?"

You had looked up from your phone. "Who?"

"The guy." There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place, but you had shrugged it off.

You had thought for a moment. "Oh. That's one of the camera assistants."

"What's his name?"

You had laughed. "Why?"

Jermajesty had smiled. "No reason."

There was always a reason. You just didn't know that yet.

The first time your friends tried to set you up with someone, Jermajesty had been sitting beside you on your couch.

He had insisted that he’d come over, claiming he hadn’t seen you in so long since you were out of town for a day to see your parents.

You had been scrolling through your phone while he watched something on television, your legs draped in his lap.

He had placed them there himself, running his hand up and down your smooth legs.

"Wait," you said suddenly.

Jermajesty looked over. "What?"

"My friends want me to go on a date."

His expression didn't change.

Not immediately.

He had tuned his gaze back forward, gazing at what was on the tv. "A date?"

"Yeah."

"With who?"

You showed him the message. Jermajesty read it.

Once. Then again.

He looked at the picture your friends had sent you.

The guy was attractive. Too attractive.

"What do you think?" You asked, valuing his opinion most of all.

Jermajesty looked back at you. "I think you shouldn't go."

You blinked. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He seems like a douchebag."

You gave a light laugh. "You've never met him."

"I don't have to."

You laughed harder at that.

Jermajesty didn't.

That night, after you had fallen asleep while watching the movie, he picked up your laptop.

It was open.

Your messages were already on the screen.

It took him less than a minute.

He sent the message himself.

‘Sorry, I don't think this is going to work out. I don't think I'm interested anymore.’

He waited for the response.

‘Oh okay, that’s fine.’

‘Let’s call the date off.’

Perfect. Jermajesty deleted the messages, leaving ‘Let’s call the date off’ for you to see in the morning.

Then he closed the laptop.

And picked you up, carried you to your room, and went to sleep beside you like nothing had happened.

The next morning, you woke up to the message.

You stared at the screen. Your heart sank. Jermajesty noticed.

He always noticed.

"What happened?"

You turned the phone toward him.

He read the message.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his hand found your knee.

"Hey."

You looked at him.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried."

His hand tightened. "You are."

You looked away.

It was embarrassing. You had barely known the guy, but you had still been excited.

And now you had been rejected before you had even gotten the chance to meet him.

Jermajesty moved closer.

"You don't need him."

You looked at him. "What?"

"You don't need anyone else."

His voice was soft. Certain.

"You have me."

He reached for your phone, blocking the guy’s number.

Your heart stuttered.

Jermajesty watched it happen.

He had been waiting for this.

Waiting for the moment when you would look at him differently.

"You have me," he repeated. "You don't need some random guy your friends found online."

You smiled weakly.

"You're my friend."

"I know."

His thumb brushed over your knee.

"But I'm here, aren't I?"

You didn't answer.

Jermajesty smiled.

Because you didn't need to.

He knew you were listening.

"You don't need anyone else in your life," he said quietly. "I'm all you need."

He had planted the seed.

The words should have scared you.

Maybe, if they had come from anyone else, they would have.

But this was Jermajesty. Your best friend.

The person who knew everything about you. The person who always answered your calls. The person who always showed up. The person who made you laugh when you were upset. The person who had slowly, carefully, deliberately made himself the center of your entire life.

So you smiled. And leaned into him.

Jermajesty looked down at you.

His smile was soft. Almost loving.

You still thought he was your best friend.

He knew better.

He had never wanted to be just that.

And now, finally, you were beginning to understand that maybe you didn't want him to be either.

After that, things changed.

Not drastically. Not enough for you to question it.

Jermajesty was simply more affectionate.

At least, that was how he explained it.

He had always been touchy with you, but now there was more of it.

His hand resting on your lower back whenever you were walking through a crowded room.

His fingers wrapping around your wrist when you tried to walk too far ahead of him.

His arm draped over your shoulders whenever you sat beside him.

His hand finding your thigh whenever you were sitting together.

You never thought much of it.

You had never had a close guy friend before.

So when Jermajesty pulled you against his side in public, you assumed that was just what close friends did.

When he rested his chin on your shoulder while you were talking to someone else, you assumed it was normal.

When his hand wandered over your waist and lingered there, you assumed he simply wasn't thinking about it.

Jermajesty was always thinking about it.

He had become especially affectionate at work.

There were always people around.

Crew members. Actors. Your friends.

It made it easier for him to touch you.

He could always pretend it was innocent.

He would come up behind you while you were reading over a call sheet and wrap both arms around your waist.

You gasped. "Jermajesty."

His response was soft. "What?"

"You scared me."

He would laugh into your shoulder. "Sorry."

He never sounded sorry.

You would try to move away.

He wouldn't let you. "Just give me a second."

"A second for what?" You giggled at his antics.

He would whisper into your neck for only you to hear. "To miss you."

You would roll your eyes.

He would smile against your skin.

Sometimes, he started kissing you.

Not your lips.

Never your lips.

Not yet.

The first time was on your cheek.

You had been complaining about something that had happened on set, dramatically throwing your hands in the air while Jermajesty listened.

When you finally finished, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You froze.

He pulled back. “What?"

You stared at him. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Yeah." He said it so casually.

"Why?"

He looked genuinely confused by the question. "Because I love you."

Your heart gave a strange little flutter.

Jermajesty smiled when he saw your expression.

"Not like that," he added, though the words came too quickly.

You nodded. "Right."

"Friends can love each other."

"Yeah."

"Exactly."

And that was that.

Or, at least, that was what you told yourself.

After that, the kisses became more frequent.

Your cheek.

Your forehead.

The top of your head.

Sometimes the corner of your jaw. That one always sent a jolt down your spine.

But they were always casual.

Always followed by the same explanation.

"That's just how I show affection."

"Through physical touch?"

"Yeah."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You know that."

You didn't.

But you nodded anyway.

Because Jermajesty did. And he was your best friend.

So when he pressed a kiss to your temple while you were standing beside him at the premiere of Michael, you didn't think anything of it.

You were too busy staring at the cameras.

The premiere was overwhelming.

The lights. The press. The people. The noise.

You had spent months working on the film, and now you were standing there watching everyone celebrate it.

You were dressed beautifully.

Jermajesty had told you that several times already. "You're staying with me tonight."

You glanced at him. "What?"

"You're staying with me."

You laughed. "I have my friends here."

"I know."

His hand settled against the small of your back. "You can see them later."

"Jermajesty."

"What?"

"You sound bossy."

He smiled. "I'm protective."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't move his hand.

That was the problem.

You never moved his hand.

You had gotten used to him. To the way he stood close. To the way he touched you. To the way he watched you.

When one of your friends finally came over to pull you away for a picture, Jermajesty's hand tightened around your waist.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a picture."

"With who?"

You pointed toward your friends.

He looked over.

Then back at you.

"I'll come."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

He followed you anyway.

He stood behind you for the picture, one hand resting firmly on your waist.

When the picture was taken, he didn't move.

You glanced back at him.

"You can let go now."

"I could."

You laughed.

He didn't.

His eyes were on the people around you.

On the men who looked at you for too long. On the people who spoke to you as if they had some right to your attention.

Then his gaze returned to you. "You're pretty tonight. Always really. "

You smiled, willing yourself not to get flustered. "Thank you."

He leaned down.

You expected another kiss to your cheek.

Instead, his lips brushed against the corner of your jaw.

Barely.

Soft enough to make you question whether it had even happened.

You looked at him.

Jermajesty was already smiling.

You didn’t know how to take that. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You kissed me."

He shrugged. "Showing affection."

"On my jaw?"

"Is that a problem?"

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. "No."

His smile grew. "Good."

His hand slid lower against your waist.

Not enough to be obvious.

Just enough for you to feel it.

You looked around.

Nobody seemed to notice. Or maybe they did. You weren't sure.

Jermajesty leaned closer to your ear.

"You're with me tonight." He repeated.

Your heart fluttered again.

You turned to look at him. He was already watching you.

There was something different in his expression.

Something heavier.

Something that made you suddenly aware of just how close he was standing.

"What if I want to go with my friends?"

His smile didn't disappear.

But it changed.

Only slightly.

"You can."

His hand tightened against you. "But you're coming back to me."

It wasn't a question. He was telling you.

You stared at him. Then laughed softly.

"You're so weird."

Jermajesty smiled. "Yeah."

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"Good thing you love me."

You looked away.

Your cheeks were warm. "You're my best friend."

"I know."

He said it quietly.

Almost fondly. Almost like he was reminding himself.

Then he looked out toward the crowd.

His hand remained on your waist.

And you let it.

Because Jermajesty was your best friend.

Because he loved you.

Because this was simply how he showed affection.

Because you had never had a guy friend before.

And because you had no idea that every kiss, every touch, every arm around your waist was slowly teaching you to accept the idea of him being something more.

Jermajesty did.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And when you finally leaned into him without thinking, resting your head against his chest while the cameras flashed around you, his hand moved up your back.

Slowly.

Possessively.

He looked down at you.

You didn't see the smile that crossed his face.

You didn't see the satisfaction in his eyes.

You only felt him press another kiss to the top of your head.

"See?"

His voice was soft.

"You don't need anybody else."

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTSgtq8HT/

All Night Long

Jermajesty x shy! reader

Summary: You and Jermajesty doing the "All Night Long" trend.

Note: A little short😶

The soft hum of the empty store parking lot at night is interrupted by the sound of your laughter and the soles of your sneakers scraping against the asphalt.

Your mutual friend stands a few feet ahead, holding up a phone with the flash on, illuminating the two of you as the familiar beat of Beyoncé’s "All Night Long" rings out from a second device.

Being naturally shy, you look down at your feet, a nervous smile tugging at your lips as you and Jermajesty start walking forward in sync for the camera. You pull your oversized jacket a little tighter around yourself, overwhelmed by the camera lens, Jermajesty is completely in his element. He glances down at you, his eyes crinkling with warmth, and effortlessly wraps his arm around your waist to draw you closer.

Right as the music hits the perfect beat, Jermajesty was walking beside you to swooping you up bridal style into his arms. You let out a soft, surprised gasp, looping your arms securely around his neck. Jermajesty adjusts his grip, holding you against his chest Your friend behind the camera gasps loudly hyping you both up, and keeps the phone perfectly steady to catch the raw chemistry.

Instead of looking at the camera, Jermajesty keeps his eyes locked entirely on you. The cool night air doesn't even register because of how close he's holding you. Your initial shyness melts away into a genuine smile as you look back at him. He spins you slightly in a slow circle under the dim parking lot lights, his expression full of unspoken affection ."Perfect! That looked so good!" your friend yells, lowering the phone to review the footage.

Jermajesty gently sets your feet back on the ground but doesn't let go of your waist right away. He presses a sweet, lingering kiss to the top of your head, whispering how cute you looked, leaving you flush-faced and completely in love in the middle of the empty lot.

first headcanon everrr... + kinda back from my break (not even.. hah but enjoy)

ex!jermajesty stares at the old pictures of you and him, taking in that beautiful smile of yours that always made his heart skip a beat.

ex!jermajesty is drunk, calling you crying begging for you to come back, "every time i lay at night, all i do is cry. baby, i miss you, i love you, baby. come back, please..."

ex!jermajesty he'd drive past your house almost every other week, seeing a new car in the driveway that wasn't yours, making him feel weak.

ex!jermajesty he'd listen to a song that once was your guys' theme song, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of you.

ex!jermajesty he'd hear some slipups from a friend of his about you, hearing that you "moved on" from him.

ex!jermajesty he'd go to the club, finding girls to talk to just to get you off of his mind.

ex!jermajesty he'd somehow get through to you through messages, texting you again to see how you felt about him still, "are we still cool, y/n...? i really don't want you out my life, i want us to work out please."

ex!jermajesty although you blocked him... again after entertaining his pleas to take him back, he'd find himself texting you, "i miss you so badly., i'm still in love with you, baby., i wish you were still mine, i'd do anything to have you back, y/n."

ex!jermajesty parties with his friends/brothers but eventually ends up sitting down being a party pooper because of his feelings, nothing but you and the way your laughter and smile lit up a room while partying with him on his mind.

ex!jermajesty he goes back to the first place where you two had your first date + where he asked you if he could be your boyfriend, sitting on a blanket you'd gifted him and watching the stars, a thing you loved to do.

I’m All You’ll Ever Need - Jermajesty Jackson

based on this request

pairing: obsessed! jermajesty x bsf! reader

summary: you work as a production assistant for the michael movie where you meet jermajesty

content: possessive, obsessive behavior. jermajesty is a bit toxic in this one.

wc: 2.5k

Part of working on a film about Michael Jackson meant that there was never really a moment where you could forget how large the project was.

Even on the days when your feet hurt from standing for hours, your hands were full of call sheets, and you had spent the last six hours running from one side of the set to the other, there was always something extraordinary happening around you.

You were a production assistant. It wasn't glamorous. Not usually.

Most days consisted of fetching coffee, relaying messages, finding missing pieces of equipment, organizing schedules, and doing whatever else needed to be done before someone important realized it needed to be done.

But you loved it.

You loved the chaos. The constant movement. The feeling that you were somehow a small, insignificant part of something much bigger than yourself.

And, of course, there was the fact that Jaafar Jackson was playing Michael.

You had met Jaafar early into production. He was kind, funny, and surprisingly easy to talk to despite the fact that his last name alone could make almost anyone nervous.

You had been working near set when he had first introduced you to his brother.

"That's my little brother, Jermajesty."

You had looked up from the clipboard in your hands.

Jermajesty had smiled.

And that was it.

Nothing dramatic.

No instant realization that your life was about to become something entirely different.

Just a smile.

"Hi," he had said.

"Hi."

You had been shy.

Jermajesty noticed that immediately.

He noticed everything about you immediately.

The way your fingers tightened around your clipboard whenever you were nervous. The way you mindlessly played with your curls when you were trying to focus. The way you smiled at people even when you were exhausted.

He noticed the way you always apologized when someone else bumped into you.

He noticed how you never seemed to know what to do when a man flirted with you.

And, more importantly, he noticed that you didn't seem to have very many men in your life.

Not close ones, anyway.

That was what made it so easy.

Jermajesty didn't begin by trying to make you fall in love with him.

That would have been too obvious.

Instead, he became your friend. Your best friend.

It happened gradually enough that you didn't even notice it happening.

At first, he would only come to set when Jaafar was working.

Then he started coming even when Jaafar wasn't around.

"You're here again?" You had teased one afternoon.

Jermajesty had shrugged, leaning against the table beside you. "Maybe I like it here."

You raised your brow. "You don't even work here."

He didn’t hesitate with the response. "Maybe I like seeing you."

He had said it so casually that you hadn't thought anything of it.

You had laughed.

Jermajesty had watched you do it.

He liked your laugh. He liked that he was the one who had made you do it.

Soon, he was texting you, insistent on getting your number to make sure you got home okay one night.

‘Good morning.’

‘Did you eat?’

‘Where are you?’

‘You working today?’

He always seemed to know when you were tired.

Always seemed to know when something was bothering you.

And you had never had a guy friend like that before.

So you assumed it was normal.

You assumed all guy friends wanted to know where you were.

You assumed all guy friends got irritated when you didn't answer their texts.

You assumed all guy friends wanted to spend nearly every free moment with you, even if it just meant taking a nap.

You assumed it was normal for Jermajesty to stare down every man who spoke to you for too long. You assumed it was normal for him to ask questions about them afterward.

"Who was that?"

You had looked up from your phone. "Who?"

"The guy." There was something in his voice that you couldn’t quite place, but you had shrugged it off.

You had thought for a moment. "Oh. That's one of the camera assistants."

"What's his name?"

You had laughed. "Why?"

Jermajesty had smiled. "No reason."

There was always a reason. You just didn't know that yet.

The first time your friends tried to set you up with someone, Jermajesty had been sitting beside you on your couch.

He had insisted that he’d come over, claiming he hadn’t seen you in so long since you were out of town for a day to see your parents.

You had been scrolling through your phone while he watched something on television, your legs draped in his lap.

He had placed them there himself, running his hand up and down your smooth legs.

"Wait," you said suddenly.

Jermajesty looked over. "What?"

"My friends want me to go on a date."

His expression didn't change.

Not immediately.

He had tuned his gaze back forward, gazing at what was on the tv. "A date?"

"Yeah."

"With who?"

You showed him the message. Jermajesty read it.

Once. Then again.

He looked at the picture your friends had sent you.

The guy was attractive. Too attractive.

"What do you think?" You asked, valuing his opinion most of all.

Jermajesty looked back at you. "I think you shouldn't go."

You blinked. "Why?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. He seems like a douchebag."

You gave a light laugh. "You've never met him."

"I don't have to."

You laughed harder at that.

Jermajesty didn't.

That night, after you had fallen asleep while watching the movie, he picked up your laptop.

It was open.

Your messages were already on the screen.

It took him less than a minute.

He sent the message himself.

‘Sorry, I don't think this is going to work out. I don't think I'm interested anymore.’

He waited for the response.

‘Oh okay, that’s fine.’

‘Let’s call the date off.’

Perfect. Jermajesty deleted the messages, leaving ‘Let’s call the date off’ for you to see in the morning.

Then he closed the laptop.

And picked you up, carried you to your room, and went to sleep beside you like nothing had happened.

The next morning, you woke up to the message.

You stared at the screen. Your heart sank. Jermajesty noticed.

He always noticed.

"What happened?"

You turned the phone toward him.

He read the message.

For a moment, he said nothing.

Then his hand found your knee.

"Hey."

You looked at him.

"Don't worry about it."

"I'm not worried."

His hand tightened. "You are."

You looked away.

It was embarrassing. You had barely known the guy, but you had still been excited.

And now you had been rejected before you had even gotten the chance to meet him.

Jermajesty moved closer.

"You don't need him."

You looked at him. "What?"

"You don't need anyone else."

His voice was soft. Certain.

"You have me."

He reached for your phone, blocking the guy’s number.

Your heart stuttered.

Jermajesty watched it happen.

He had been waiting for this.

Waiting for the moment when you would look at him differently.

"You have me," he repeated. "You don't need some random guy your friends found online."

You smiled weakly.

"You're my friend."

"I know."

His thumb brushed over your knee.

"But I'm here, aren't I?"

You didn't answer.

Jermajesty smiled.

Because you didn't need to.

He knew you were listening.

"You don't need anyone else in your life," he said quietly. "I'm all you need."

He had planted the seed.

The words should have scared you.

Maybe, if they had come from anyone else, they would have.

But this was Jermajesty. Your best friend.

The person who knew everything about you. The person who always answered your calls. The person who always showed up. The person who made you laugh when you were upset. The person who had slowly, carefully, deliberately made himself the center of your entire life.

So you smiled. And leaned into him.

Jermajesty looked down at you.

His smile was soft. Almost loving.

You still thought he was your best friend.

He knew better.

He had never wanted to be just that.

And now, finally, you were beginning to understand that maybe you didn't want him to be either.

After that, things changed.

Not drastically. Not enough for you to question it.

Jermajesty was simply more affectionate.

At least, that was how he explained it.

He had always been touchy with you, but now there was more of it.

His hand resting on your lower back whenever you were walking through a crowded room.

His fingers wrapping around your wrist when you tried to walk too far ahead of him.

His arm draped over your shoulders whenever you sat beside him.

His hand finding your thigh whenever you were sitting together.

You never thought much of it.

You had never had a close guy friend before.

So when Jermajesty pulled you against his side in public, you assumed that was just what close friends did.

When he rested his chin on your shoulder while you were talking to someone else, you assumed it was normal.

When his hand wandered over your waist and lingered there, you assumed he simply wasn't thinking about it.

Jermajesty was always thinking about it.

He had become especially affectionate at work.

There were always people around.

Crew members. Actors. Your friends.

It made it easier for him to touch you.

He could always pretend it was innocent.

He would come up behind you while you were reading over a call sheet and wrap both arms around your waist.

You gasped. "Jermajesty."

His response was soft. "What?"

"You scared me."

He would laugh into your shoulder. "Sorry."

He never sounded sorry.

You would try to move away.

He wouldn't let you. "Just give me a second."

"A second for what?" You giggled at his antics.

He would whisper into your neck for only you to hear. "To miss you."

You would roll your eyes.

He would smile against your skin.

Sometimes, he started kissing you.

Not your lips.

Never your lips.

Not yet.

The first time was on your cheek.

You had been complaining about something that had happened on set, dramatically throwing your hands in the air while Jermajesty listened.

When you finally finished, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You froze.

He pulled back. “What?"

You stared at him. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Yeah." He said it so casually.

"Why?"

He looked genuinely confused by the question. "Because I love you."

Your heart gave a strange little flutter.

Jermajesty smiled when he saw your expression.

"Not like that," he added, though the words came too quickly.

You nodded. "Right."

"Friends can love each other."

"Yeah."

"Exactly."

And that was that.

Or, at least, that was what you told yourself.

After that, the kisses became more frequent.

Your cheek.

Your forehead.

The top of your head.

Sometimes the corner of your jaw. That one always sent a jolt down your spine.

But they were always casual.

Always followed by the same explanation.

"That's just how I show affection."

"Through physical touch?"

"Yeah."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"You know that."

You didn't.

But you nodded anyway.

Because Jermajesty did. And he was your best friend.

So when he pressed a kiss to your temple while you were standing beside him at the premiere of Michael, you didn't think anything of it.

You were too busy staring at the cameras.

The premiere was overwhelming.

The lights. The press. The people. The noise.

You had spent months working on the film, and now you were standing there watching everyone celebrate it.

You were dressed beautifully.

Jermajesty had told you that several times already. "You're staying with me tonight."

You glanced at him. "What?"

"You're staying with me."

You laughed. "I have my friends here."

"I know."

His hand settled against the small of your back. "You can see them later."

"Jermajesty."

"What?"

"You sound bossy."

He smiled. "I'm protective."

You rolled your eyes, but you didn't move his hand.

That was the problem.

You never moved his hand.

You had gotten used to him. To the way he stood close. To the way he touched you. To the way he watched you.

When one of your friends finally came over to pull you away for a picture, Jermajesty's hand tightened around your waist.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a picture."

"With who?"

You pointed toward your friends.

He looked over.

Then back at you.

"I'll come."

"You don't have to."

"I know."

He followed you anyway.

He stood behind you for the picture, one hand resting firmly on your waist.

When the picture was taken, he didn't move.

You glanced back at him.

"You can let go now."

"I could."

You laughed.

He didn't.

His eyes were on the people around you.

On the men who looked at you for too long. On the people who spoke to you as if they had some right to your attention.

Then his gaze returned to you. "You're pretty tonight. Always really. "

You smiled, willing yourself not to get flustered. "Thank you."

He leaned down.

You expected another kiss to your cheek.

Instead, his lips brushed against the corner of your jaw.

Barely.

Soft enough to make you question whether it had even happened.

You looked at him.

Jermajesty was already smiling.

You didn’t know how to take that. "What?"

"Nothing."

"You kissed me."

He shrugged. "Showing affection."

"On my jaw?"

"Is that a problem?"

You opened your mouth. Then closed it. "No."

His smile grew. "Good."

His hand slid lower against your waist.

Not enough to be obvious.

Just enough for you to feel it.

You looked around.

Nobody seemed to notice. Or maybe they did. You weren't sure.

Jermajesty leaned closer to your ear.

"You're with me tonight." He repeated.

Your heart fluttered again.

You turned to look at him. He was already watching you.

There was something different in his expression.

Something heavier.

Something that made you suddenly aware of just how close he was standing.

"What if I want to go with my friends?"

His smile didn't disappear.

But it changed.

Only slightly.

"You can."

His hand tightened against you. "But you're coming back to me."

It wasn't a question. He was telling you.

You stared at him. Then laughed softly.

"You're so weird."

Jermajesty smiled. "Yeah."

He leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"Good thing you love me."

You looked away.

Your cheeks were warm. "You're my best friend."

"I know."

He said it quietly.

Almost fondly. Almost like he was reminding himself.

Then he looked out toward the crowd.

His hand remained on your waist.

And you let it.

Because Jermajesty was your best friend.

Because he loved you.

Because this was simply how he showed affection.

Because you had never had a guy friend before.

And because you had no idea that every kiss, every touch, every arm around your waist was slowly teaching you to accept the idea of him being something more.

Jermajesty did.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And when you finally leaned into him without thinking, resting your head against his chest while the cameras flashed around you, his hand moved up your back.

Slowly.

Possessively.

He looked down at you.

You didn't see the smile that crossed his face.

You didn't see the satisfaction in his eyes.

You only felt him press another kiss to the top of your head.

"See?"

His voice was soft.

"You don't need anybody else."