Bee's lab

[Incident #1:  Time: 11:30pm, Location: Club Kisses, Codename: No Panties On, On The Dance Floor ]

You aren’t really sure how you ended up clutching the edge of the sink in a club bathroom for dear life. Sweat covers your furrowed brow as your boyfriend plows into you from behind. Jermajesty has your hair wrapped into a makeshift ponytail around his right hand, while his left holds you in a deep arch. “Fuck–” He throws his head back, eyes rolling in the process, “No panties baby– Shit!” He fucks you deep and hard, like he owes it to you. “I can’t–, Fuck! s’too good, ma.” You nod and let out a sinful whimper in agreement. Jermajesty doesn’t let up, his hand moves from your waist to your stomach, “Gonna put a baby in here..mhm– , then niggas’ll know this pussy mine for life.” The liquor isn’t even hitting Jermajesty anymore. No, he is, without a doubt, pussydrunk. “Bet you don’t show up to a dance recital with no. Fuckin’. Panties.” A high mewl leaves your lips as you clench around him, “Baby, please–”

Okay, so maybe you do know how you got there. It wasn’t your intention to set Jermajesty off, but the dress you picked for your night out hugged you so tight that even a thong would’ve shown through. It didn’t really help that it was dangerously short, and one wrong move could land you on everyone’s Twitter feed for the next week and a half.

When you walked into the club around ten-fifteen, heads turned, and eyes fell over you immediately. As you made your way through the section, drinks made their way into your hand. It wasn't long before you were tipsy and started to profess your love to anyone who so much as breathed in your direction. Your man spotted you first, as he always does. Jermajesty, admittedly, had already been drunk by the time you decided to show face. His low-set eyes raked over your body, and his teeth caught his bottom lip.

He took in your image without a single holy thought crossing his mind. Your man stood slowly, like time didn’t matter, and watched as you socialized. He stood there, thinking about all the ways he was going to ruin your pretty little dress. Then, he saw it. You doubled over, laughing just a little too hard at something one of your friends said, providing a perfect view of your pussy. His pussy. On full display. Oh, hell no.

He huffed through his nose and began to move; his stride was quick. You held your stomach as you laughed harder, blissfully unaware of the trouble you were in. A hand wrapped around your forearm with a tight grip and tugged you up, bringing the giggles to a confused halt. When you lifted your eyes to see who could be so bold, delight spread across your features. “Oh! Hey, baby. I was wondering when I’d find you in here!” The slurred speech did not help your case. “Mhm. I’m sure you were,” Jermajesty mumbled out. A pout formed on your lips, and your heart sank in your chest, “Why aren’t you happy to see me baby?” Safe to say, you are an emotional drunk. Unfortunately for you, that didn’t matter when you decided to give the world an ‘all-access pass’ to what is rightfully his.

“You’ll find out. Let's go.” He wasted no time tugging you toward the back of the building. You followed behind as best as you could, while trying not to trip over your own feet. When you reached the bathroom door, Jermajesty pushed you in and locked it behind him. You turned to face him, confusion apparent on your face, “Hey, I was having fun, what’s your–”

The man’s patience had all but run out with you. First, you showed up nearly two hours late, looking like sin personified; then you decided that laughing with your friends was more important than coming to find him; and finally, you flashed half the club, showing off every bit of what your mama gave you. “Not another word,”

Large hands gripped your waist, and as Jermajesty spun you toward the mirror, he met your gaze. The look in his eyes killed off whatever air-brained response that was about to roll off your tongue. Those same hands, resting on your waist, slid down your hips, and his thumbs drew lazy circles over the fabric of the dress. “Can’t fuckin’ take you anywhere,” Your breathing started to stagger, you knew you were in deep shit whenever he took that tone. He pressed into your back, holding a firm stare.

“I mean, really, ma. How many niggas you think, got to see what’s mine?” You didn’t have an answer. In all honesty, you hadn’t even realized what you’d done. “Wha–” When you went to speak, Jermajesty moved quicker than you could process. Two fingers found their way into your mouth, “I meant what I said. Suck.” Shamelessly, your tongue swirled around the two long digits.  Your thighs started to feel sticky, and an ache you didn’t realize you had settled deep in your tummy. The liquor didn’t help much either. Excitement coursed through your veins. You were in trouble, and felt so fucking good.

While you were preoccupied, Jermajesty bunched your dress up around your waist, and spread your legs a little more with his foot. Once he was satisfied, he pulled his fingers from your mouth slowly, and a string of spit served as the only remnant of your obedience.

Those same digits that had been in your mouth, just moments ago, swiped up your core and settled firmly on the bundle of nerves nestled between your folds. A gasp left your mouth as he applied steady pressure. “You like that shit, mama?” You tried to answer, but the slow circles he rubbed into you short-circuited your brain. All you had to offer was a low moan as you fought to keep your body steady. Jermajesty shifted behind you, the sound of his belt clinking coupled with the lazy figure-eights he ran over your clit was enough to make your mouth water. You needed to taste him.

Your hips pushed him back gently. You let out a soft giggle as you turned around to look up at him. With your head tipped back, your tongue lolled out. With a smirk, Jermajesty gathered a glob of spit before letting it drip down into your mouth. You swallowed with a devious smile and pressed a nasty kiss to his lips before you slowly sank down onto your knees. Your boyfriend’s eyes never left yours, and if you weren’t so fucked up, you might have noticed the sway in his posture.

Your caress began at his ankles, gliding up over the back of his knees, hands going all the way up until they landed on the waistband of his pants. “Can I?” You asked, voice barely above a whisper. Jermajesty was sure he had died and gone to heaven. He could never stay mad at you for long, not when you looked up at him with those big brown eyes and spoke in that soft, sweet voice.

With a shudder, he nodded quickly, not wanting to waste any more time. With all the confirmation you needed, in one move, you had his pants and boxers pushed around his knees. His dick smacked against his stomach, the tip flushed and dripping with precum. You couldn’t resist. You kissed each side of his hips softly before wrapping your hand around the base.

“It’s so big, daddy.” You moaned, trailing open-mouthed kisses up his length. A deep groan was ripped from his chest, and a smile crept onto your face as your tongue darted out to swipe over his hole. His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, and his head dropped as you took him in deep, “There you fuckin’ go, fuck– Good girl.” You bobbed up and down at a steady pace, swirling your tongue around his tip ever so often. Your hands took care of whatever your mouth couldn’t. He let out a grunt that went straight to your pussy.

“Yeah, lil mama, suck that shit–” His hips buck, the liquor and pleaser created a dangerous mix that let him know he wouldn’t last long. Your cheeks hollowed as you worked a little harder. You clenched your thighs in search of relief, but it wasn’t enough; your dripping heat settled on his foot. Attentive as ever, Jermajesty noticed you rutting against him almost immediately. “You need me that bad, hm?” You pulled off of him with a pop, spit coating your chin and his flushed cock. “Yeah, daddy— I do.” Though very, very drunk, you weren’t naive. You knew just what buttons to push to have him scoop you up and bend you over the sink. “That’s alright baby. You got a lesson to learn anyway.”

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“these bitches be peasants, just address as me as your majesty.” + “you sure that’s your nigga? ‘cause i really can’t tell. not by the way he be calling my cell.” + “and stop calling that nigga phone while we together. he busy, bitch.”

you were never a monogamous type of woman. maybe during your teen years, but as you grew older, you thought the idea of committing to just one man was essentially useless. why let one man lock you down when you could go have fun with as many as you wanted?

that’s exactly how you’ve been spending your time lately — with a phone full of various sexy and incredibly easy men who would drop everything the second you wanted something, no matter what it was that you wanted from them. you were gorgeous in the face, a 10 in your physique, and your sex game was top tier, so who wouldn’t want to run to you as soon as you called?

you’d always tell yourself not to pick favorites in your roster and just continue to use them freely without showing one more attention than the others… but after you met Jermajesty, all of that flew out of the window quicker than you initially wanted it to.

you didn’t get attached to him, nor did you drop the rest of your hoes for him, but you did start to ignore them a bit more than usual and pick Jermajesty over them. it wasn’t intentional at all, but after the first time you slept with him, you started craving him more than you’d usually crave other men on your roster, which honestly freaked you out a little because it had never happened to you before.

you didn’t want to end up catching feelings for him and you didn’t want him catching feelings for you because you knew exactly how that would go, especially since you’ve had to cut off a few of your old hoes in the past for catching feelings. Jermajesty knew what kind of woman you were when he met you, so you hoped he wasn’t the type to try and change who you were — mainly because it wouldn’t work.

things between you, Jermajesty, and your other hoes had been going smoothly lately until… well, until his weird ass ex decided that she wanted him back and completely exposed your relationship with him on her Instagram story today while also simultaneously putting you on blast, causing the blogs to be all over your asses.

it was obvious she either stalked you or had someone else stalk you for her because the photo she shared of you two with her defamation post was from two weeks ago — the first and last time you and Jermajesty went in public together. it was a photo of the two of you hand-in-hand walking into a movie theater together, your faces as visible as day with identical grins.

unfortunately, that was the moment shit started to go downhill. your phone blew up the moment you were posted on blogs holding another man’s hand, your other hoes and your friends texting you all at once to talk about the controversy happening and understand what the hell was happening.

you were struggling to reply to everybody’s overwhelming spew of messages while also plotting to get on Jermajesty’s ex for telling your business, but the moment some of the men on your roster cut you off because of the fake news, it sent you on an incredibly disrespectful rant on your Instagram live in retaliation to her lies earlier today — specifically, an hour ago.

“you too busy watchin’ where my pussy goin’ instead of gettin’ a fuckin’ hobby, you dumb ass bitch,” you scoffed as your eyebrows furrowed and you crossed your arms, glaring at your propped-up phone, “i don’t give a fuck who y’all seen me with and where you saw me with ‘em, i’m single as hell. fuck what the blogs say and fuck whatever she say, she don’t even know me like that!”

“she got all this disrespectful ass shit to say about me just because i’m fuckin’ on her ex— he is not your damn boyfriend!” you exclaimed as your face slightly scrunched up and you laughed bitterly, “shit, as far as i’m concerned, whatever problem you have is with him, not me!”

“then this ho had the nerve to try and call me ‘miss community pussy’… ooh, i swear i almost told her somethin’. bitch, i’m young and real sexy, i can have a roster if i want to, the fuck?” you scoffed lightly as your eyes briefly scanned the comments in your live and you watched the viewer count continue to skyrocket, “talkin’ all kinds of shit about my pussy, but your ex love to bury his face in my shit on a daily basis, so what’s really tea? it’s givinggg that you mad ‘cause your pussy don’t pop like mine, boo.”

“oh!— and another thing! stop fuckin’ sneakin’ pictures of me when i’m out in public, you creepy ass ho, because i can be outside with whoever the fuck i damn well please! shit, i could be with your baby daddy tomorrow night if you got one!” you exclaimed with a snort of amusement as you rested your hands on your hips, “don’t let this social media shit gas your head up and get your ass beat ‘cause i don’t play these types of games with nobody.”

“somebody just commented ‘idk sis, that whole post felt like some cockblocking shit’— because it literally was, bro, i’m tellin’ y’all! this bitch literally made almost all of my other niggas cut me off with this bullshit!” you exclaimed with a dry laugh as you slightly flailed your arms, “like, why are you so worried about me and what i do in my private time?! and why the hell are you so worried about what your ex got goin’ on and who they fuckin’ on now?! y’all, i really don’t think this weird bitch got a job or some shit ‘cause it’s gettin’ real spooky out here…”

before you could continue giving his ex a big piece of your mind that would ultimately end up with your Instagram being either taken down or restricted, you ended up getting a FaceTime from Jermajesty mid-live, which you quickly accepted and ended your live without saying anything else. the minute the call connected, Jermajesty popped up with a slight clench in his jaw and his eyes slightly darker than usual, his expression giving away his feelings of frustration.

the call was shorter than your usual FaceTimes, but the last thing Jermajesty said to you was “don’t post or say nothin’ else to her ass. i’ma be at your house in an hour.” before the call abruptly ended and left you standing in your home in deafening silence.

you were a bit amused by the angry change in his demeanor, honestly finding it sexy that his ex badmouthing you had completely thrown off his mood and made him want to defend your honor, even if the two of you weren’t together.

it didn’t make you any less frustrated though because all of the drama his ex caused over that photo made your roster drop from high to low in the short span of just two hours, only three of them — including Jermajesty — remaining by your side through the ongoing conflict.

luckily for you, that hour you spent alone and off of social media flew by quicker than you expected it to because it led to where you are now: getting up from the couch to answer the front door.

unlocking and pulling the door open, you rested your other hand on your hip as you looked up at Jermajesty, his eyes back to their soft brown the moment he looked at you yet that slight clench in his jaw still remained.

“so what took you an hour to come over here, J?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, as you stepped to the side and allowed him in, your eyes following his movements while you shut and locked the door behind him.

“had to take care of business, mama,” Jermajesty answered casually as he walked towards the living room and you followed behind him, a small grin pulling at the corners of your mouth from the term of endearment, “made some calls and got all that shit took down.”

your eyebrows almost immediately furrowed and a look of confusion crossed your face as the two of you took a seat on your couch and leaned back into the cushions, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him while his hand splayed across your side.

“you bein’ real vague right now and you know i hate that shit,” you huffed as you instinctively leaned into his touch and turned your head to properly face him, your eyes searching his expression, “c’mon, ‘Majesty, spit it out.”

“i called my ex and made her delete all that shit she posted about us. then i made her get in touch with all them blogs that reposted her stuff and made ‘em delete it, too.” Jermajesty explained, a hint of pride in his voice, as both of your eyebrows slightly raised in pleasant surprise and you grinned widely, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“oooh, you handlin’ business like that?” you teased as your grin smoothly converted into a smirk and you playfully rested your hand against the center of his chest, “okay, big daddy, i see you.”

Jermajesty laughed and lightly shook his head, his curls gently shifting with his movement, as your smirk slightly widened and you slowly caressed his chest with your palm, the motion suggestive yet you played it off as casual.

“stop playin’ with me like i’d let somebody talk shit about you and get away with it,” Jermajesty chuckled softly as he glanced down at your hand and smirked a little before gently grabbing your wrist and bringing your hand up to his mouth to press kisses against each of your knuckles, “you rubbin’ my chest like you want somethin’, mama.”

“maybe i wanna piss your ex off some more,” you smirked, your voice shifting into a tempting tone, as you watched him kiss your knuckles before shifting your hand in his grasp, cupping his chin in your hand and resting your thumb against his cheek, “give her weird ass more reasons not to like me.”

Jermajesty grinned at the sound of your words, though you could tell that he was on the same page as you by the glint in his pretty brown eyes, and his other hand slightly tightened on your side before he pulled you onto his lap, your hands moving to rest against his shoulders while you shifted your hips to properly straddle him.

“and maybe i wanna piss your other niggas off,” Jermajesty murmured as he gripped your hips and held them securely before leaning forward and pressing kisses along your jawline, “tired of havin’ to share you anyway.”

“sounds like a personal problem to me… damn near all my other niggas cut me off over all this shit anyway,” you chuckled softly as you cradled the back of Jermajesty’s head and let out a faint hum, leaning into his kisses, “you bad for business, J.”

“mm, sounds like a personal problem to me, mama,” Jermajesty muttered against you, using your own words against you, as his thumbs rubbed small circles against your hips, “just means i get more of you to myself. and speaking of problems… i was on your live earlier before i called you.”

“you were?” you asked in amusement, your smile slightly widening, as Jermajesty hummed lowly and gently squeezed your hips in response, earning a soft snort from you, “what’d you think about my rant, boo?”

“i think,” Jermajesty deliberately paused and lowered his head into the crook of your neck as he left open-mouthed kisses against your melanated skin and used one of his hands to grip your chin and slightly tilt your head to the side, exposing more of your neck to him while his other hand splayed across your back, “it was real sexy hearin’ you tell everybody about how i ‘love to bury my face’ in that pussy.”

“oh, you got flashbacks from that, huh?” you teased, your voice suddenly softer than before, as Jermajesty smirked a little at the change in your tone and latched around a particularly sensitive part of your neck, gently sucking at it and coaxing a soft moan from you.

“somethin’ like that.” Jermajesty mumbled, softly nipping at your skin, as you inhaled sharply through your nose and slightly nudged his shoulder with your other hand, silently reminding him of your “no hickeys” rule that he was clearly breaking by biting and sucking on you.

“Jermajesty,” his name left your mouth in a breathy warning tone, trying your hardest to sound firm as if he wasn’t practically making out with a sensitive part of your neck, “no hickeys, boy. i told you that from the beginning.”

smirking, Jermajesty slowly pulled away from your neck and raised his head as he looked up at you, his eyes lingering on your lips before flickering up to meet your gaze.

“well, since everybody already thinks we together… might as well claim what’s mine,” Jermajesty taunted playfully as he let go of your chin and wrapped his hand around your neck, his thumb rubbing the faint markings on the side of your neck, “they look good on you, too. might give you some more later on.”

“i swear i’m gon’ hurt you.” you huffed softly, though a small grin crept onto your face, as Jermajesty grinned back at you and you leaned down to him, cupping his jaw in one of your hands before attaching your lips to his.

“i might like it… your threats sounds sexy.”

your back arched up off of the couch and a loud cry of bliss fell from your mouth as your orgasm rocketed through you and onto Jermajesty’s face, his hands firmly gripping your thighs to keep them pulled open while he continued hungrily lapping at your pussy. your fingers wiggled through his curls and a broken whimper fell from your lips as he ate you through your climax, helping the orgasmic shocks subside while you panted heavily underneath him.

“fuck,” you exhaled deeply, your body slowly coming down from its orgasm-induced high, as Jermajesty placed one final kiss against your clit before pulling his head back and looking up at you, a slight smirk on his face while he ran his tongue over his lips, “maybe i needa’ brag about you givin’ me head more often.”

“your other niggas gon’ be mad at you if you do,” Jermajesty smirked, slightly raising his eyebrows, as he let go of your thighs and moved up your body, hovering over you for a moment before leaning down to softly peck your lips, “thought that was somethin’ you wanted to avoid, mama?”

“they already mad now, so it’ll be alright,” you snorted softly, looking up at him, as you leaned up to him and pecked his lips twice in return before lowering your hands to the waistband of his pants, “take these off, baby.”

“take ‘em off for me since you wanna be bossy.” Jermajesty jokingly demanded, earning a soft laugh from you, as he leaned down to you again and kissed you deeply, your lips curling into a small grin against his while you returned the kiss.

as the two of you kissed, your hands worked on undressing his lower half, his hips shifting to help you out until he was completely bare just like you. easing his body on top of yours, his hips naturally slotted between your thighs and his erection pressed against your core, causing you to moan softly into the kiss while his hands returned to your thighs and gripped them to spread you further open.

Jermajesty slowly rolled his hips against your pussy once, allowing you to feel just how hard and girthy he was, and you whimpered quietly at the feeling as your hands cradled the back of his head and the two of you deepened the kiss simultaneously, both of you eager to feel each other closer than you already were.

however, before you could continue any further, the sound of a phone ringing struck through the heated silence in the room and the two of you groaned in unison before pulling away from the kiss and turning your heads towards the coffee table where both of your phones were.

“whose damn phone is that?” you huffed, a small furrow forming between your eyebrows, as your hands moved down to his forearms and you watched him slightly lean over to the coffee table to look between both of your phones — and by the look on his face, you already had your answer before he even said anything.

“it’s mine,” Jermajesty chuckled, grabbing his phone, as he leaned back into his original position and turned his phone around to show the screen, revealing an unsaved number and the ‘Answer’ or ‘Decline’ buttons underneath the digits, “guess who it is.”

“she can’t take a hint or some shit?” you scoffed, the furrow between your brows slightly deepening, as your eyes flickered between the phone and Jermajesty’s face, “block her or somethin’. she annoyin’ the fuck outta’ me.”

“nah. i know exactly what i’ma do,” Jermajesty’s lips curled up into a smirk — it wasn’t his usual smirk and that alone should’ve alerted you — and he flipped his phone around back to him as he looked at it for a moment before looking down at you, “you trust me?”

you slightly narrowed your eyes at him and searched his face, as if trying to gauge what his intentions were and where his mind was at, “not with that look on your face, J.”

“i’m not gon’ do nothin’ bad. a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ is all i need,” Jermajesty answered simply as he slightly tilted his head and trailed his free hand up to your waist, gently squeezing it before caressing it slowly, “do you trust me?”

you looked at him silently for a moment before slowly nodding your head, a small grin pulling at the corners of your mouth, “…yeah, i trust you.”

Jermajesty’s unreadable smirk turned into a full-blown mischievous smile and before you knew it, he had both of your legs thrown over his shoulders and his phone rested near your head, your eyes slightly widening once it started to connect in your head what he was about to do.

answering the call with one hand, Jermajesty purposely put the phone on speaker and slipped his other hand between your legs, his thumb momentarily teasing your clit before his hand shifted to grab ahold of his dick and guide it to your entrance.

“hello?”

“…hey, Jermajesty. um… look, i know i’m probably the last person you want to hear from right now, but i just wanted to say that i’m sorry for everything i posted today. i was wrong for that. i was just… really hoping we could talk about getting back togeth—”

as she spoke, Jermajesty’s hips steadily pushed forward until his dick was buried to the hilt, which ultimately coaxed a long high-pitched moan from you since your legs being elevated on his shoulders put him at an advantage to dig deeper inside your walls.

he smirked proudly at the sound and slightly tightened his grip on your waist as his other hand gripped one of your thighs to keep your leg steady on his shoulder and he began thrusting into you at a quick yet deep pace, the sounds of skin-slapping filling the room and most likely echoing through the phone while he continued fucking you like you owed him something.

“ohhh, fuuuuck— nnnngh— baby!” you cried out, your head falling back against the cushions, as your back tried to arch up from the couch but Jermajesty’s grip on your waist kept you pinned down, a loud desperate whine falling from your lips while you clung to his arms, “‘M-Majestyyy!”

“mhm, that’s it, mama. take that dick. keep takin’ it like a good girl f’me,” Jermajesty leaned down to you, essentially folding you in half, and he pressed kisses against your collarbone before inching his head up to rest in the crook of your neck, gliding his tongue across your skin and pulling a whimper from your vocals, “you sound so pretty when you moanin’ for me like that, baby. love the way this pussy wettin’ me up.”

you were so far gone that you forgot that the two of you were still on the phone with Jermajesty’s ex since she had went completely silent, but he didn’t, and that’s why he was fucking you like this. he wanted her to hear everything — the way you’d moan with each rock of his hips, the way you’d cry out his name when he went too deep, the sounds of your bodies repeatedly colliding and becoming even slicker, the filthy things he’d say to you while deep inside you, and so much more that would send that poor woman into cardiac arrest.

raising his head from the crook of your neck, Jermajesty let go of your thigh and wrapped his hand around your jaw instead as he tilted your head back down, “look at me, pretty girl.”

your eyes dazedly met his and you blinked rapidly through the pleasurable haze your mind was being shoved through as your hands left his arms and you cradled his face instead, a desperate attempt to ground yourself in the moment while he continued fucking you into the couch cushions as his ex-girlfriend listened.

“talk to me, mama. tell me how i’m makin’ you feel.”

“y-you—ngh!—you makin’ me f-feel soooo good, J!”

“yeah? you like when i fuck you like this, beautiful?”

“yes! ooh, fuuuuck— yes, babyyy!”

the moment you felt Jermajesty slightly adjust the angle of his hips and thrust a little harder was the moment you completely shattered underneath him. you gasped loudly and you’d jaw went slack as your mouth hung open and your sounds grew higher in pitch and louder in volume, your noises beginning to punctuate each of his thrusts while your eyes rolled back again and your eyebrows furrowed.

“i found that spot, didn’t i, mama?” Jermajesty smirked cockily, maintaining his angle, as your hands shot to his back and you gripped him tight, profusely nodding your head while your nails left crescent-shaped markings in his skin, “mhm, that’s what i thought. hold onto me, baby, i got you. know i can’t let my pretty girl down.”

your head fell back for a second time and a rough sob of pleasure left your mouth as your legs locked up on his shoulders and your knees started to graze your shoulders with each of his thrusts, earning a very high-pitched whine from you while your stomach muscles began to tighten and your walls started to flutter around his dick.

“i feel you, baby, you cummin’? hm? you cummin’ on this dick f’me?” Jermajesty cooed, smirking a little, as he watched your body slightly jerk underneath his weight and took notice of the change in your vocals, knowing he had you right where he wanted you.

“ughhh, yes!” you cried out, your voice wavering, as you quickly nodded your head and your eyes squeezed shut, your thighs beginning to tremble before your orgasm suddenly crashed down on you, “ohhhh, my fuuuuck— Jermajesty!”

as Jermajesty continued fucking you through your climax, both of you were unaware of the fact that his ex had hung up the phone before he asked you to tell him how you were feeling — but it’s not like either of you would’ve actually cared if you had known.

she should’ve known better than to call his phone while he was with you anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

“She hit me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment, one where y/n decides she was done playing nice with Jermajesty.

[Winter: December 20th, 2015. Codename: Cancel Christmas]

Ah yes, the holly-jolly season. Hot-coca, stockings over the fireplace, and of course, incessantly violent bickering with Jermajesty. It always starts small with him. A disagreement about where candy canes should go, or who would be responsible for cleaning up the discarded tinsel. But alas, the hormones that accompany adolescence make these seemingly small problems, very big problems.

Y/n was irritable. Very, very irritable. As she developed through the years, so did her issues with her incredibly annoying counterpart. It didn’t help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waltz into the familiar backyard, body clad in a swimsuit that was essentially string, smelling good, and looking better. This time though, it wasn’t for anyone’s attention but his. You made a bee-line for Jaafar, greeting as many as you could in the process. When you reached him, a smile spread across his face. He sat there, on a pool chair, in all his glory, in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, and sunglasses. “Look at you, when’d you get so fine mama?” Though you weren’t here for him, it didn’t hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try to nod, but he holds you steady, “Come on, baby. Answer me,” When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, “Mm, there you go again. Not listening,” Jermajesty shakes his head as he tuts with a wicked smile. He loosens his grip just a bit. Soft kisses begin at the back of your ear, and make their way down to a spot on your neck that pulls a soft whine from your lips. A deep chuckle leaves the man towering over you, “That’s right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?”

The hand around your throat slips further down, fingers ghosting over the hardened buds beneath your swim-top. Gently, he toys with the thin fabric before his fingers move swiftly to undo the ties on your neck and back. The top falls and you stand there now, bare chested, dripping with excitement. With a deep inhale, Jermajesty begins to kiss down your sternum, cupping both breasts with his large hands. Slowly, he takes the left bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, just enough to tease, while he rolls the right between his index and thumb. 

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

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

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

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

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

Good god, you knew he was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. He’s neatly trimmed, there’s a small patch of hair at the base. The tip is a deep mauve, the shaft is a shade darker than the rest of him with a pronounced vein running all the way down, and just below rest two round heavy balls.

He wastes no time getting your bottoms off next, practically ripping the dainty little thing off of you. He tosses them, and looks back at your dripping core. Again, two of his fingers find a home deep in your pussy, only this time, Jermajesty isn’t so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans up, “Open your mouth.” You obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, “That’s it,” he picks up the pace, your hand shoots out to clutch his forearm in an attempt to slow him down and quell the fire quickly spreading through your body. “Move your hand,” he murmurs, while bullying your g-spot with precision. The sounds of your sopping pussy bounce off the walls, as he pushes you closer to release. “Please, Please, Jer…Please!”

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

“What the fuck–”,

Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto all fours, and pressing you into a sinful arch. “Shut the fuck up.” He teases you some more, running his tip along your slit, and tapping your clit a few times. “You wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.”you arch a little deeper, “Mm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?” 

That does it. In one swift movement, Jermajesty starts to fill you. The stretch stings so good, you both moan at the sensation. He gives a few shallow thrusts before his resolve snaps, and he bottoms out with a low groan. The tip of his fat dick kisses your cervix just right, it takes everything in you not to collapse. When he pulls back out, you hiss, the sensation feels addictive. He drives back into you, and begins to fuck you like a man starved. The pace he sets is punishing, you can’t do much but cry out, gripping the sheets as the same heat from before begins to pool in your belly. Jermajesty drills into that spongy spot over and over, the pleasure overwhelms you, your jolts forward involuntary. At the sight, his sweat covered brow furrows, he grips your waist with both hands, pulling you back onto him. A heavy hand cracks down on your ass twice,

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

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

“Shit—, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.” As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow. With your brain turned to mush, you finally give in, “It’s yours, Jermajesty— Fuck it’s yours!” You scream out. Though you can't see it, a toothy smile forms on your lover's face. While still inside you, he rolls over onto your side, “Say it again, baby, louder,” you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. “That’s right, this my pussy,” he says, bringing one of your legs over his hip. His hand found your clit once more, rubbing fast tight circles into the swollen nub.

As you approach ecstasy, the door slams open. Jaafar, stands there with a baffled expression.

“What the hell–”

You startle, brought out of your pleasure induced state by the sudden intrusion. Jermajesty doesn't stop his ministrations for a single second. Instead, his hand leaves your bundle of nerves and grips your jaw, making you face him. 

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

He hears the door click shut, his brother curses his way back up the hall. Jermasty bites back a grin, knowing he's proved his point.

He pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. “Did so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.” His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned off for the night, and with you quickly approching overstimulation, the only thing you can offer the man who is balls deep, rearranging your guts are soft, nearly pathetic whimpers.

One last thrust has him cumming with a shout of your name. His hold on you tightening, as you milk him for everything he’s got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks. 

When you two finally come down, he sits you up gently. Breathing labored, and very clearly blissed out, you look at him in your daze, “That was...so fucking good, Jer,” He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. “ –I can’t help but wonder though, what made you so…possessive? You never liked me before, what changed?” Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, “Y/n, baby. I’ve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if I seem 'possessive', had to prove you were mine though.” 

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

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

The man rolled his eyes, “We can talk in the morning, ans Jaafar’ll be fine. We can shower together, and sleep after.” You couldn’t help yourself, “How well does ‘apology pussy’ go over with your brother?” Jermajesty’s face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena.

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

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

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

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

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

“She hit me!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This terribly embarrassing day, marked a pivotal moment, one where y/n decides she was done playing nice with Jermajesty.

[Winter: December 20th, 2015. Codename: Cancel Christmas]

Ah yes, the holly-jolly season. Hot-coca, stockings over the fireplace, and of course, incessantly violent bickering with Jermajesty. It always starts small with him. A disagreement about where candy canes should go, or who would be responsible for cleaning up the discarded tinsel. But alas, the hormones that accompany adolescence make these seemingly small problems, very big problems.

Y/n was irritable. Very, very irritable. As she developed through the years, so did her issues with her incredibly annoying counterpart. It didn’t help that her body (and brain) began to change at a speed she did not agree with. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You waltz into the familiar backyard, body clad in a swimsuit that was essentially string, smelling good, and looking better. This time though, it wasn’t for anyone’s attention but his. You made a bee-line for Jaafar, greeting as many as you could in the process. When you reached him, a smile spread across his face. He sat there, on a pool chair, in all his glory, in nothing but a pair of swim trunks, and sunglasses. “Look at you, when’d you get so fine mama?” Though you weren’t here for him, it didn’t hurt to receive a compliment or two from Jaafar.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You try to nod, but he holds you steady, “Come on, baby. Answer me,” When you open your mouth, he shifts his hand down, squeezing once more. A garbled sound is all you manage to get out, “Mm, there you go again. Not listening,” Jermajesty shakes his head as he tuts with a wicked smile. He loosens his grip just a bit. Soft kisses begin at the back of your ear, and make their way down to a spot on your neck that pulls a soft whine from your lips. A deep chuckle leaves the man towering over you, “That’s right, pretty girl. Keep making those sweet sounds for me, yeah?”

The hand around your throat slips further down, fingers ghosting over the hardened buds beneath your swim-top. Gently, he toys with the thin fabric before his fingers move swiftly to undo the ties on your neck and back. The top falls and you stand there now, bare chested, dripping with excitement. With a deep inhale, Jermajesty begins to kiss down your sternum, cupping both breasts with his large hands. Slowly, he takes the left bud into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, just enough to tease, while he rolls the right between his index and thumb. 

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

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

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

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

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

Good god, you knew he was big, but you were severely under prepared. Your best guess is roughly eight and a half inches. He’s neatly trimmed, there’s a small patch of hair at the base. The tip is a deep mauve, the shaft is a shade darker than the rest of him with a pronounced vein running all the way down, and just below rest two round heavy balls.

He wastes no time getting your bottoms off next, practically ripping the dainty little thing off of you. He tosses them, and looks back at your dripping core. Again, two of his fingers find a home deep in your pussy, only this time, Jermajesty isn’t so nice about it. He sets a brutal, unforgiving pace that has you arching your back. He leans up, “Open your mouth.” You obey, already dizzy from the pleasure. His spit hits the back of your throat, and you swallow, “That’s it,” he picks up the pace, your hand shoots out to clutch his forearm in an attempt to slow him down and quell the fire quickly spreading through your body. “Move your hand,” he murmurs, while bullying your g-spot with precision. The sounds of your sopping pussy bounce off the walls, as he pushes you closer to release. “Please, Please, Jer…Please!”

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

“What the fuck–”,

Jermajesty cuts you off, flipping you over onto all fours, and pressing you into a sinful arch. “Shut the fuck up.” He teases you some more, running his tip along your slit, and tapping your clit a few times. “You wanna cum? Tell me who this shit belongs to.”you arch a little deeper, “Mm, if I say Jaafar, how hard will you fuck me?” 

That does it. In one swift movement, Jermajesty starts to fill you. The stretch stings so good, you both moan at the sensation. He gives a few shallow thrusts before his resolve snaps, and he bottoms out with a low groan. The tip of his fat dick kisses your cervix just right, it takes everything in you not to collapse. When he pulls back out, you hiss, the sensation feels addictive. He drives back into you, and begins to fuck you like a man starved. The pace he sets is punishing, you can’t do much but cry out, gripping the sheets as the same heat from before begins to pool in your belly. Jermajesty drills into that spongy spot over and over, the pleasure overwhelms you, your jolts forward involuntary. At the sight, his sweat covered brow furrows, he grips your waist with both hands, pulling you back onto him. A heavy hand cracks down on your ass twice,

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

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

“Shit—, best fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever had.” As his hips continue to slam into yours, your drool covers his pillow. With your brain turned to mush, you finally give in, “It’s yours, Jermajesty— Fuck it’s yours!” You scream out. Though you can't see it, a toothy smile forms on your lover's face. While still inside you, he rolls over onto your side, “Say it again, baby, louder,” you do as he says, nearly screaming as he delivers steady, mean, strokes into your wet hole. “That’s right, this my pussy,” he says, bringing one of your legs over his hip. His hand found your clit once more, rubbing fast tight circles into the swollen nub.

As you approach ecstasy, the door slams open. Jaafar, stands there with a baffled expression.

“What the hell–”

You startle, brought out of your pleasure induced state by the sudden intrusion. Jermajesty doesn't stop his ministrations for a single second. Instead, his hand leaves your bundle of nerves and grips your jaw, making you face him. 

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

He hears the door click shut, his brother curses his way back up the hall. Jermasty bites back a grin, knowing he's proved his point.

He pumps into you a few more times, now chasing his own release. “Did so good. You Did. So. Fucking. Good. Pretty. Girl.” His words are accentuated by a few more deep thrusts. Your brain has turned off for the night, and with you quickly approching overstimulation, the only thing you can offer the man who is balls deep, rearranging your guts are soft, nearly pathetic whimpers.

One last thrust has him cumming with a shout of your name. His hold on you tightening, as you milk him for everything he’s got. He holds his seed deep as his body rides out the after-shocks. 

When you two finally come down, he sits you up gently. Breathing labored, and very clearly blissed out, you look at him in your daze, “That was...so fucking good, Jer,” He nods in agreement, wondering how you were still functioning. “ –I can’t help but wonder though, what made you so…possessive? You never liked me before, what changed?” Jermajesty flashed a smile and chuckled while still trying to catch his breath, “Y/n, baby. I’ve been in love with you since I clocked you in the head with that block. Pardon me if I seem 'possessive', had to prove you were mine though.” 

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

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

The man rolled his eyes, “We can talk in the morning, ans Jaafar’ll be fine. We can shower together, and sleep after.” You couldn’t help yourself, “How well does ‘apology pussy’ go over with your brother?” Jermajesty’s face fell flat, and you cackled like a hyena.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you have broken up so many times that nobody reacts anymore. every single breakup starts with one of you saying it's over forever and ends with the two of you somehow sitting next to each other at your baby's soccer game three weeks later.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty loves acting like he doesn't care until another man starts spending time with you. suddenly he's calling more, texting more, volunteering for every pickup and drop-off, and finding reasons to be at your house almost every day.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty got your name tattooed on his chest three months after your "final" breakup. he claimed it was because you're the mother of his child, but nobody believed him. not even you.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always says he's only coming over to pick up the baby. somehow that ten-minute pickup turns into him sitting at your kitchen table for two hours eating your food and arguing with you about something completely ridiculous.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty swears he's over you, yet he still knows your coffee order, your work schedule, your favorite takeout place, and which blanket you always steal when you're tired.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still calls you “ma” even years after the breakup, but not in a co-parenting way. in a you way. it’s become such a habit that he doesn’t even notice anymore. “move over, ma,” when he squeezes onto the couch next to you. “you hungry, ma?” when he’s bringing food over. “c’mere, ma,” when he’s trying to show you something on his phone. it drives your new boyfriend insane because jermajesty says it so naturally, like it’s always belonged to him. the worst part is that whenever somebody points it out, jermajesty just shrugs and says, “what? i’ve been calling her that for years,” before continuing the conversation like he didn’t just make things ten times more awkward

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates your new boyfriend immediately. he doesn't care whether the guy is nice, respectful, successful, or perfect. if another man is around you and his child, jermajesty already has a problem with him.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty suddenly becomes father of the year once he finds out that you’ve moved on. he's showing up early, offering extra help, buying things for the baby without being asked, and finding any excuse possible to stay involved in your daily life.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty gets irrationally jealous whenever your baby starts getting attached to another man. the second he hears your child call somebody else funny, cool, or their favorite, he's planning the most expensive and over-the-top father-child day imaginable.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty constantly says things like "i'm only here for my kid" while sitting on your couch for the third hour in a row watching movies with you and the baby like you're still a family.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts completely unbothered whenever people ask if the two of you are getting back together. the second somebody asks if you're dating someone new, though, he's suddenly paying very close attention to the conversation.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty keeps every picture you've ever sent him of your child. every single one. blurry pictures, random selfies, pictures of finger paintings, pictures of naps. he has folders full of them and refuses to delete any.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always pretends he forgot something at your house. his hoodie, his charger, his keys, his watch. sometimes you're pretty sure he leaves things behind on purpose just so he has an excuse to come back.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you can go from arguing about co-parenting to laughing at baby pictures in less than five minutes. one second you're threatening to block each other, the next you're both crying laughing over something your child did.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty hates when you ignore him, even though he's usually the one who started the argument. he'll spend hours acting annoyed and then get offended when you actually stop responding.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty still has a family photo of the three of you as his lock screen. every time somebody notices, he changes the subject so fast it gives people whiplash.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty always finds himself sitting next to you at family events. nobody knows how it happens. not even him. somehow every birthday party, holiday, school event, and cookout ends with the two of you side by side.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty absolutely hates when your child talks about wanting mommy and daddy to live together again. not because it bothers him, but because hearing it out loud feels way too close to what he secretly wants.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty knows exactly which buttons to push when he's annoyed, and unfortunately you know exactly how to get under his skin too. that's why your arguments are legendary.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty acts like your biggest headache and your biggest supporter at the exact same time. nobody understands how he can annoy you more than anyone else while also being the first person you call when something goes wrong.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty secretly keeps every family photo, every drawing, every handmade card, and every random keepsake your child gives him. if the picture includes you standing next to him, it's getting stored somewhere extra safe.

˚˖𓍢ִ໋🥀˚ jermajesty and you are the definition of unfinished business. no matter how many breakups happen, no matter how many times you swear you're done, neither of you has ever really figured out how to let go.