Monroe

the date was a complete disaster from start to finish. you would’ve at least given him a point for driving across town to pick you up at your place, but that didn't even scratch the bare minimum considering what he put you through the rest of the night. he showed up twenty minutes late without so much as a quick text or apology, spent the first half of dinner monologuing about his workout routine, and spent the second half checking his phone under the table. by the time the bill came, he acted like he’d bought you a house instead of two watered down drinks, leaning in at the end of the night with a sleazy, expectant grin like he fully counted on an invitation to your apartment.

you didn't even let him drive you home. the second you excused yourself to the restroom, you pulled out your phone. 

can u come get me?

his reply came back almost immediately.

send me the address. i’m on my way. 

that was just how it was with him.

it had always been that way. ever since you two were kids running around his house, scraping your knees on the driveway and playing around. jaafar was your safe haven. he knew every single thing about you — every secret, every insecurity, every terrible decision — and you knew him just as deeply. you knew the insane work ethic he hid behind his easygoing nature, and the grounding presence he brought into your life whenever the rest of the world felt overwhelming. when nobody else listened, jaafar did. 

a few minutes later, his car pulled up to the curb.

jaafar’s eyes swept over you as you walked to his passenger door. you were wearing a short white sundress — tight at the waist, flowy at the bottom, with a low scoop at the neck. a bit too low, maybe. not that he should be noticing that anyway.

by the time he put the car in park and rolled the windows down — engine idling, radio low — you were right there, resting your arms on the edge of the driver’s side window as you leaned through it. you brought the summer heat in with you, coming so close he could smell your perfume. a new scent, he thought, but the same old proximity. you never had much of a sense of personal space with him. though he never complained. 

he didn’t mind when you leaned so far over into the body of his car that the neckline of your pretty dress fell open. but he kept his eyes on yours. somehow, even looking at your face felt indulgent.

you were done up. you took time and care getting ready, and now you were looking down at him through heavy lashes, your lips — shiny with gloss — curving into a smile.

he wondered how someone could’ve fucked up a date with you.

“are you the uber i ordered?” you grinned.

“oh you think you’re funny, don’t you?”

“one of us has to be the funny one.”

he smiled at you as he scanned your expression.

you were also smiling, but then again, you always were. you were good at faking it, but he was attentive enough to tell the difference.

“how’s my comedian doing?” he asked. “you okay?”

you let out a dramatic sigh. “i’m fine. it’s not a big deal.”

“but you made me come pick you up. that sounds like a big deal.”

there was a moment of heavy silence, and then you let your smile relax.

“if i’m being honest, i’m better now that you’re here. so thank you.” you said.

“you don’t have to thank me,” he said, shifting his car into park.

he pushed the door open, and you stepped back to give him room. he stepped into the space, now being the one to look down at you. he was always so much taller than you, even when u were kids.

he opened his arms wide, giving you an unsaid invitation.

a small smile broke across your face as you stepped right into him, melting against his frame. you pressed your cheek firmly into the center of his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, and wrapped your arms tight around his torso.

he closed his arms around you instantly, pulling you flush against him. one of his large, warm hands settled flat against the small of your back, holding you close, while the other rested gently against the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair. he rested his chin right on top of your head.

it was a short hug but it instantly made you feel better.

when you pulled back, he leaned and rested his side against the car “so what do you want to do?” he asked. “go somewhere? take you home? 

you chewed your lip. “sure, you can take me home, if that’s easier.”

maybe if he didn’t know you so well, he wouldn't have noticed the tiny shift in your expression. he knew you didn't mind going back home with him to do nothing in particular, but then he took another look at you — all done up in that dress.

"actually,” he corrected. “why don't we go somewhere?"

"yeah?" you smiled.

he signaled toward the passenger side with a tilt of his head, guiding you over. you expression was brighter as he opened the passenger door for you. 

you were already settled intot he passenger seat by the time he realized it was as far back as it is.

jermajesty had been riding shotgun earlier with his legs stretched all the way out, and jaafar had completely forgotten to adjust the seat back to its usual position — or more like your preferred position.

he rested one hand on the roof of the car and ducked his head in, leaning right over your lap to reach down. his knuckles brushed against the side of your thigh as he pressed the little switch on the side of the seat, sending it humming smoothly forward along its track.

“sorry,” he murmured. “i forgot to move it back for you.”

there was a high electronic whir as the seat inched forward, and jaafar meant to look up at you. but as he raised his gaze — from the button on the side of the seat, to where you were sitting, with your leg resting just a few inches from his hand — his eyes caught on your thigh.

before he could think about what he was doing, he let his vision linger. he paused with his eyes right where your dress had ridden up, high, leaving the skin of your upper thigh bare.

god, that dress.

you put this dress on for him? for some random guy who didn't even care to look at you? the thought made his jaw lock so tight his back teeth ached. some idiot who wouldn't spend a dime on you, who wouldn't even think to buy you all the pretty dresses you wanted, got to sit across from you looking like this. got to look at you done up so sweet, when he didn't deserve to even be in the same room as you.

“i could’ve moved the seat myself, jaafar.” you laughed, oblivious ot his glance, and fortunately, to all the thoughts that were running wild in his head. “i know how to press a button.”

he was still reeling from that glance, barely even processing that he’d moved the seat forward more than enough. in fact, you were now face to face, and he was looking you dead in the eyes. his mind was still on that dress. that dress on you, and that smile on your face, and that perfume filling his head, dizzying him.

you cocked your head to the side. “y’know it is kinda nice, though. getting taken care of.”

taken care of.

you really shouldn’t have said that, because something was now flashing through his head that he absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about; laying you down, shoving your dress up, kneeling between your legs, your thighs shaking on his shoulders as his fingers grazed over your skin.

taking care of you.

treating you right, the way you should be.

your fingers tangled and tugging at his hair, his tongue on your—

“jaafar?” your eyes were locked on his. “hello? did you just zone out?”

he pulled back when he broke out of his daze.

“sorry,” he said quickly, “i was just thinking—” about things he shouldn’t have, looking at places he shouldn’t have. “—some things i have to do this week.”

horrible excuse, but it was the best he could do.

he shut the door.

“i think it’s nice that you always open doors for me. there are like… no gentlemen left.”

gentlemen? fuck.

he had to suppress a wince, his hands on the frame.

if he was a gentleman, he wouldn’t have been looking at you like that.

“opening doors is the bare minimum.”

“mm, well at least chivalry isn’t dead for one guy in this city.”

but what about the rest of them? the guys who did next to nothing and called it enough, the ones who didn't even think about doing the bare minimum for you — why waste your energy on men who didn’t even care enough to see what was standing right in front of them?

it wasn't any of his business, though. just like it wasn't any of his business what you looked like under your dress. he crossed a line looking at you the way he did. he shouldn't have been imagining any of that.

just like he shouldn't have been sighing your name right then.

you looked up at him through the open window.

“you look really nice,” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”

you smiled. “you think so?”

“yeah.” of course he did. he’d always thought you were. but he didn't say it out loud, because he knew he shouldn't.

what he needed to do was shake off whatever the hell those fantasies were — where had they even come from? that was never the nature of your relationship, and it never would be.

you dont see him that way.

the worst part about all of it was that he knew exactly how you viewed him. a friend. and even knowing that, he still had that filth running through his mind.

pervert.

“thank you, j.”

“‘course.”

he walked over to the driver's side of the car, fighting the pull in his gut before sliding behind the wheel.

“where are we going?” you asked, fiddling with the ac to how you want it.

"where do you want to go?” he asked softly.

"... can we go to the lake?"

it felt like forever since he was here with you last.

back before work and filming and life got too hectic for the two of you to make the long drive out.

yet here you were again, staring through the glass at the moonlit ripple of the lake. the place hadn't shifted a bit; it remained untouched by time. standing so completely still, it felt like stepping back into an old memory, reliving some long-forgotten summer night without even realizing it.

there was a time when this turn-off belonged only to the two of you. it started years back, on a night you’d called him crying — a rare thing for you, since you weren't the type to shed tears easily. through soft sniffling, you’d told him you just wished you could get out for a bit, and within minutes, his car was idling down the street from your house.

he watched you sneak out the back door, carefully avoiding the creaky steps so you wouldn't wake your parents. any trace of your tears had vanished the second you made it into his passenger seat, giddy from the excitement of sneaking out in the middle of the night. you’d told him to hurry up and drive before anyone noticed, begging him to take you somewhere far away.

and this was where he took you.

after that night, it became your go-to spot. whenever life got too overwhelming, or you just needed to disappear for a while, he’d pull up without a word and take you on the long drive out to the water, sitting there with you for as many hours as you needed.

jaafar missed it.

a cool night breeze swayed the dark trees along the bank, rustling the leaves as the moonlight poured over the dashboard. the rolled down windows let the soft summer breeze in.

"we used to come here a lot," you murmured softly.

jaafar turned his head to look at you. the glow of the moon lit up your profile, softening your features and turning your eyes into dark pools that caught the faint light.

"yeah," he said, his voice quiet. "all the time."

you laughed. "i was always going through some shit back then. and you were always bringing me out here whenever i needed it."

"things were hard back then," he replied, watching you closely. "but they're better now, aren't they?"

you went quiet for a beat, staring out at the water as your smile slowly faded into something softer, a look on your face he couldn't quite read.

"yeah," you whispered. "but it's because of you. you always took care of me."

"i'll always take care of you," he said firmly, not missing a beat.

you looked away for a second, your fingers tangling together in your lap as you took a slow breath. "jaafar—"

before you could finish, a heavy crack of summer thunder rattled the car, followed by the pounding of rain against the windshield.

jaafar rolled the windows back up, the sound of the rain muffling behind it. he turned the ac on high and watched the fog on the windshield spread.

he was about to ask you what you were saying but your phone chimed.

his eyes flickered down to your phone, a sudden urge to ask if it was him.

but it wasn’t any of his business. so he lay his head back on the headrest, fiddling with the material of his sweatpants as you checked your phone. 

turns out, he didn’t need to ask.

“what an asshole,” you muttered. “no way he expects a second date after that.”

jaafar let out an exhale. “he texted you?”

“yeah,” you sighed, holding the screen toward him. “he’s asking if i'm down for ‘round two.’ can you believe this guy?”

jaafar didn’t touch the phone, his eyes sweeping over the notification, shaking his head.

your phone chimed again.

you both look down at your phone screen at the same time.

maybe you can come over to my place this time

wyd now? are you in bed already?

jaafar clenched his jaw, prying his eyes away from your phone. 

“he’s asking if im in bed?” you mused. “how much do you wanna bet he’s gonna ask for nudes after all that.”

you were laughing, and he had his jaw clenched. 

“don’t text him back.” it came out a bit rougher than he would’ve liked.

“you’re giving me orders now?” you snorted. “what are you, my dad?”

jaafar sighed, his eyes closing. “sorry.”

he knew he was being too intense, but he didn’t know what had gotten into him tonight. 

“is something bothering you, j?”

he inhales deeply. “i don’t know.” he said. “‘s just…”

he rolled his head on the headrest to meet your eyes. you looked at him, expectantly — almost needy and he felt his throat tighten. he would give you anything in the world, give you whatever you need. care for you, protect you, and keep you—

but you were not his.

so jaafar chose his next words carefully.

“if you’re not getting what you deserve,” he said. “then drop him.”

he didn’t want to sound too harsh. “it’s up to you, but i just don’t like seeing you hurt. that’s all.”

your eyes softened. “i’m not texting him back.” you said. “wasn’t going to. he’s an asshole.”

he couldn’t help but feel relieved. 

you watched as his fingers moved over his sweatpants. he had a habit of doing that. 

he was gentle in everything he did — always had been, at least with you. he’d only ever treated you gently. but tonight felt different. he felt different.

you don’t know why you couldn’t stop looking at them. you couldn’t stop the feeling building in the pit of your stomach that intensified when you imagined him touching you with the same purpose.

you knew he’d be so good at it. jaafar was eager to please, eager to give — he always knew what to do.

he looked out through the rain-streaked windshield, a sliver of his tongue slipping out to trace his bottom lip before he bit down on it.

you imagined it on you, him running his tongue up your body.

the bite of his words from earlier still echoed in your head — don't text him back. drop him — he’d always been protective of you — that wasn't anything new. but tonight, it felt different. 

“what is it?” he asked, meeting your eyes.

you were leaning closer now, resting your arm over the center console, oblivious to the way the thin strap of your dress slipped slightly down your shoulder.

his eyes flickered down for a second, his gaze wandering over your falling neckline, taking in the soft dip of your cleavage and the faint, lacy outline of your bra. before his thoughts could go any further, he dragged his eyes back up to yours, his throat working as he swallowed. 

“can i admit something to you, jaafar?”

“anything,” he said smoothly.

“when i was younger, i used to think all guys would be a little like you. caring and… selfless.” you paused, huffing out a laugh. “but i found out most of them are the opposite.”

“what do you mean?”

“some guys are just selfish. and some only want you for one thing.”

he was quiet for a second.

“i shouldn’t have let you set the standard,” you murmured, a faint smile on your face. “you gave them way too much to live up to.”

set the standard?

jaafar glanced at you as thunder rolled above, but you were looking out through the windshield again, your face unreadable.

“there have to be some good guys out there,” he murmured softly. “they can’t all be bad.”

that made you laugh.

“oh, it’s all bad.” you turned back to face him, propping your chin on your hand. “i mean, i’ve told you pretty much everything. but i never told you what a mess these guys are in bed, did i? they take selfish to a whole new level.”

in bed? 

jaafar felt his mouth go dry, another image surfacing in his head, but one that put a pit in his stomach — someone else’s hands on you.

his jaw clenched so hard his back teeth ached. “oh. really?”

god, he wasn’t any better than them. here he was, secretly fantasizing about you while you sat right beside him, trusting him with your heart.

“really,” you studied him with a curious look on your face. "you wanna know all the dirty details?”

he was torn — stuck between not wanting to picture another soul touching you and needing to know every single thing that fell short. he needed to know where they failed, everything that wasn't enough, just so he could fix it for you. so he could make it up to you.

but above all else, he pushed those feelings down. when he told you that you could tell him anything, he meant it.

“we can talk it out.” he finally said.

“okay.”

and just like that, you were slouching forward over the console, leaning into his space just like old times — back when you’d bring him all the hot gossip from your friends. you trusted him implicitly, confiding in him the way you always had.

“jaafar…”

you pursed your lips, a subtle, conspiratorial smile playing on your mouth. for a second, the closeness of you was dizzying.

“... none of the guys i’ve been with have ever made me cum.” 

fuck.

“not one.”

there was a pressure in his chest, and he didn’t know what it was from. he didn’t even know what was suffocating him more — the sickening thought of another guy trying, the fact that every single one of them had failed and left you unsatisfied, or the realization that he knew he could do better. he’d been dying to see what you looked like when you were undone, dying to be the one to give it to you.

“really?” he breathed out, his voice barely a murmur.

“really,” you said, a faint smile touching your lips. “i always have to take care of myself.”

he had to swallow hard to keep from sputtering out. god.

“maybe it’s because… you don’t really know them?” he muttered, looking away toward the window. a dry, awkward laugh escaped him. he didn’t even know what the fuck he was saying anymore. “like… you just met them?”

“what are you saying, j?” you asked, your tone dipping a bit critical. “i should go for someone i know instead?”

his heart dropped. he didn’t mean it like that. now he’d made it sound like he was putting his own name in the running, and he’d never do that.

“‘m not saying that.” his words were careful. “just… you deserve someone who treats you better well. better than that.”

but this time, you pushed.

“better? what does that look like to you?” 

jaafar let out a frustrated laugh, shaking his head. “what does it matter what it looks like to me?”

“because,” you scoffed. “i trust your judgement on guys. why are you being so shy with your opinion all of a sudden? you’ve never done that before.”

he was taken aback by the tone of your words. he didn’t get why you were digging so hard, why you wanted to know so badly. 

what was better anyway? there was better, there was good enough, and then there was what you actually deserved — and in his mind, none of those were the same thing.

“at the bare minimum,” jaafar finally said. “someone who’d appreciate you. someone who appreciates your time, and doesn't pull bullshit like your date did tonight.”

“and what if i haven’t found that?” you murmured. “what if i can’t?”

“you will,” he said softly. “there are a lot of guys who’d jump at the chance to treat you right. because you’re—” 

he cut himself off.

you were watching him so intently, clinging on to every word.

“because i’m what?”

there were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t.

he laughed humourlessly. “because you’re you,” —because you’re everything a person could want— “and you deserve someone who…”

he trailed off, trying to place the look on your face.

“go ahead,” you pushed. “you’re the expert right? you get to size up every guy who even looks at me. no one’s ever been good enough for you. aren’t you dying for the chance to tell me exactly who i need?”

he laughed, frustration rolling over him. what even was this? a conversation? an argument? a challenge?

“try me.”

his eyes scanned over your face. “you need a guy who’s good for you.” the words were in his voice, but they felt completely unfamiliar. “he should treat you right. be there when you need him. he should be attentive, show up for you, appreciate you. tell you how pretty you are. he should be taking care of you... meeting all your needs with no questions—or excuses—do you know how tired i am of hearing excuses? you need someone who’ll give you everything, because you deserve—”

"so someone like you?" you were staring at him, head titled. and he knew he fucked it all up. that was way too much; he was going to push you away.

“i’m sorry,” he murmured, running a hand over his mouth. “really, i don’t know what i’m...”

your expression melted. the rain beat on the roof of the car as you shook your head slowly.

“what are you apologizing for? caring?”

“i’m being overbearing,” he said, voice low.

you sighed softly, your eyes flickering all over his face. you leaned in closer.

"what if i did want someone like you?"

he froze in place, his breathing quickening.

“...you said i need someone who's good for me, right?” you said quietly. “someone who treats me right. someone who shows up for me, no excuses.”

you don't even remember how the distance between you guys shrunk, but he was so close now — too close to be respectful. his eyes were low and pretty.

his face was just a few inches from yours. your chest was leaning right over the center console, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating off you.

your voice was so quiet, your nose brushing over his.

“‘m sorry i didn’t see it before, jaafar. i was looking for that person for so long. in so many places, and you were right in front of me the whole time.”

his head was spinning, skin tingling. was he dreaming?

“did i misread things?” you breathed, your lips almost touching. “do you not feel the same way?”

“please tell me you’re serious.” he sounded borderline desperate. but he didn’t care.

“i’m dead serious,” you whispered.

“i want you,” he started. “so much. in all the ways i shouldn’t, and it’s killing me.”

“you can have me in every way you want.”

he said your name, and it came out helpless.

instead of saying anything else, he pulled you forward, closing the gap. 

he finally tasted you, felt you, his skin buzzing at every point where it was touching you. he parted your lips with his, and you opened for him like a flower.

you let him in, let him have you.

you let him devour you and taste all his feelings reciprocated on your tongue.

you let out a little gasp into his mouth, and it made him dizzy.

“i want you. so bad.” your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer. your voice was in his ears like a song, every one of your desires a new note as you reached over the console to his thigh. 

he wasn’t expecting you to touch him. he was so hard already. he’d been hard for you—got hard for you so fast.

he was so sensitive to every movement of your hands on him.

“i need you” you breathed.

he pulled back, breathing hard. “are you sure? right here?”

“yes, ’m sure. i need you right now.”

he’d give you everything you need.

you deserve endless things. so many things that for a second he didn’t know where to start. but then you were moaning softly in his mouth, so responsive to his touch.

and all he could think about was that sweet little secret you told him:

none of the guys i’ve been with have ever made me cum.

and so he ran his fingers up your thigh, long fingers snaking up your skin while his other elbow rested heavy on the console. you’d never seen him so needy — his hands seemed to grasp everywhere at once, his mouth hungry on yours as your tongues moved together. he gave your thigh a soft squeeze, a light touch, his hand lingering just long enough to claim one spot before drifting to the next.

his fingers moved higher and higher until he was playing with the lower hem of your dress.

you knotted your fingers into his hair — it was soft to the touch. your skin grew more sensitive with every moment, his hand stalling on your upper thigh as his thumb rubbed near its apex. he broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down your jaw and down your neck.

oh—

your gasp devolved into a shudder as he licked up your throat, his tongue hot on your skin at the exact same time his hand slipped slowly under your dress.

it left goosebumps all over your neck and thighs, your back arching off the leather seat as your legs spread slightly.

"jaafar—" you gasped.

"yeah, baby?" he slurred against your pulse.

"want to be closer," you breathed, hips twitching instinctively against his touch. "'need you."

"c'mere."

his large hand spanned around your waist, using his strength to pull you straight toward him over the center console.

you straddled his lap, your hands resting on his shoulders for balance as his fingers gripped your hips tight. you were so close now — you could feel him pressing firm through the fabric of his sweatpants. the warmth of his lap under your bare thighs sent butterflies wild in your stomach.

he was big. with his height, you probably should’ve guessed.

jaafar’s eyes roamed over you, greedy and heavy-lidded as he took in the sight of you.

"look at you," he said softly.

the look on his face was pure awe and reverence, and it made you bashful under his gaze.

"you can look," you laughed shakily, heat rushing to your cheeks as you tried to cover your face. "but not for long."

"why not?" he murmured, a faint, lopsided smile touching his lips as he gently caught your wrists, pulling your hands away so he could see you again.

"’cause... it's embarrassing," you whispered, biting your lip.

“i’d look at you all day if you let me. never seen anything better.”

"stop." you tried to look away, but his hand came up, warm fingers gently cupping your jaw, bringing your face back to his.

"you're too sweet to me," you murmured softly.

"you deserve it," he smiled softly, his eyes brimming with so much sincerity it almost made your chest ache. "i hope you know you deserve the world."

"you mean it?" your breath caught when his large hand squeezed your hip softly over the thin fabric of your dress.

"i do," he said. his fingers idled at the middle of your back, slowly tracing up your spine until they wrapped around the nape of your neck, his touch sending a shiver straight down your length. he pulled your face gently down to his, your lips almost touching, his hot breath fanning across your mouth. "y'know what else you deserve?"

"what?" you breathed, your pulse racing in your ears.

"let me show you."

he kissed you deeper, instantly turning hungry. you cradled his face, feeling him squeeze your waist with both hands. he pulled you down against him, once, just so your weight pressed right down on the hard shape of his dick. it made him shudder.

you resisted the urge to grind over him, but you were so wet already, making a mess over the front of his sweatpants.

"you deserve someone who knows just how to touch you, baby," he murmured against your mouth, his lips brushing yours with every word.

"and how's that?" you asked, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"slowly."

his hands ran lazily down your hips, the heat of his palms bleeding through your dress. long, smooth fingers lazed over the skin of your thighs, unhurried and attentive.

"gentle, at first..." his voice was so low and quiet.

you were focused on his hands as they grazed further up your thighs, slipping easily under the hem of your dress to lift the fabric. you grasped at the front of his shirt, gasping at the size of his hands as they gripped your bare skin, his thumb resting at the front of your hip while his palm spanned around to rest just above your ass.

"'til you're ready for more."

he was so hard under your thigh, the thick length of him pulsing with heat — so much pre-cum at the tip that it was already starting to seep through his pants.

"want more," you begged.

"i know, baby," he whispered, trailing a kiss from the corner of your mouth down to the sensitive skin under your jaw. "you know 'm gonna give it to you."

his gaze dropped, eyes fixed on your chest as he lifted your dress up and off. "you deserve someone who'll give you everything you want."

your legs spread around him, straddling his lap in just your bra and panties — a little lacy set you’d put on for someone else. but you wouldn't have anyone else take it off you now.

you didn't have to ask if he liked it; you felt the response in his dick, twitching underneath you. his tongue darted out to wet his lips. "you're so perfect."

your breath caught when his hands cupped your tits lightly. you squirmed on his lap.

"that feel good?" he whispered.

all you could do was nod.

"good," he murmured, brushing his thumb over your nipples through the lace of your bra. "you deserve someone who can make you feel good."

it was better than good. his touch on your skin, his big hands gripping your tits, long fingers tweaking your nipples through the lace.

he had you pleading his name, so needy for him that you couldn't help but lean forward and pull him into a sloppy kiss.

but that wasn't enough either.

even with your tongues tangled together and his dick straining harder up against you, you were dying for more, desperate to be closer.

you ground down on his lap, pressing your weight into the bulge in his pants. he was so hard under your pussy, so big it made you whimper.

"i know," he said between kisses. "i know."

jaafar pressed his fingers lightly into your skin and gripped your hips, helping guide you back and forth over his cock so you could get the friction you needed. slow and easy, he rocked you on his lap until your panties were soaked through.

"i know how bad you want it... an' you deserve it..." he said softly.

his mouth left yours, adjusting as he sank back into the leather to elevate you on his lap. he brought you up as he trailed kisses down your jaw and down your throat. you were higher up, and he was lower down, kissing over your collarbones before pausing.

"you deserve someone who’ll give it to you... at the right time, baby..." he murmured into your skin, his voice low and muffled as he reached the level of your chest, scattering kisses just above the lace of your bra 

he licked and sucked your skin, making it tingle. you carded your fingers through his soft hair, chills shooting down your spine. his fingers slid up your thighs slowly.

"...and for exactly how long..."

his fingers moved inward, languid as they reached the apex of your inner thighs and brushed over the hem of your panties.

"...because it would be so mean to make you wait too long, wouldn’t it?"

he wrapped one arm around your waist to steady you, resting his hand on your side — his fingers splaying wide over your skin, greedy — while he touched you with the other.

your mind lifted, as if floating into a fog, intoxicated by his touch. they made your eyes heavy, clouding your head so you heard his sweet words as if in a daze.

"you deserve someone who..." his voice dropped, his touch a little heavier as he ran his hand slowly over the lace of your panties.

"...knows how to tease, how to make you wait..."

his fingers brushed over your clit, and you gasped, shuddering.

"...but not for too long..." you heard the strain in his voice as he rubbed over the soaked fabric under your entrance. you felt his dick growing under your ass, getting harder.

"...just long enough to get this little pussy nice and wet, baby."

while he rubbed circles over your clit, the hand on your side moved down until you felt his big grip on your ass. moaning softly, you watched through foggy eyes as he craned his neck to kiss your tits through the lace of your bra — light kisses through the fabric, just one tease after another. but as soon as you started to whine, he gave you his tongue, running it over the fabric, swirling it over your hardening nipples, and flicking it. even through the barrier, it made you shudder as much as the wetness and heat of his mouth.

the heat intensified when he started to suck on your tits through the lace; it got hotter when he grazed his teeth over your nipples, hottest when he bit down gently. he was careful with his teeth, but you were so sensitive that each bite made you squirm. coupled with the desire growing inside you, you were dying to be skin to skin, hating the barrier between you.

"so wet for me," he slurred between soft sucks and bites to your tits. "so good for me, such a good girl. you know what a good girl like you deserves?"

"tell me," you breathed.

"someone who knows how to get you ready."

he pressed his fingers to your swollen clit and gave you enough pressure to build that heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach. it sent another rush of arousal between your thighs, making everything puffier and wetter.

you were more than ready; you were desperate.

"you need someone who preps you right—" his fingers skimmed right to the hem of your panties.

"—'cause then..." he slipped his fingers under the hem of your panties, letting them linger there for a second as he looked up at you. his mouth was swollen from sucking at your chest, his cheeks flushed as he licked his lips.

your heart hammered in your chest.

"... when they really touch you..." he hooked his fingers over the damp fabric covering your pussy and pulled your panties to the side.

"...it’s gonna feel so much better for you, baby." his fingers brushed over your slit — finally a real touch.

you shuddered. he was right. it did feel better.

you should’ve known he’d do it better. jaafar had always shown you how things should be done. after all these years, after everything, you should’ve known he’d be the only one to do it right.

he’d prepped you so much, worked your body just right; he had you dripping wet, and he’d barely even touched you. you’d never been this wet. you were worked up, so sensitive that just the feeling of his fingertips brushing over your pussy made you drip.

"jaafar, please—" you couldn’t remember a time you’d ever needed it enough to beg.

he licked his fingers, cleaning your wetness off them, just to get them wetter with a glob of spit. softly, he brought his hand back between your thighs.

"c’mon, baby. you don’t have to beg me for a thing. jus’ tell me what you want, and i’ll give it to you."

"keep going," you gasped.

"what you need..." he hummed, his voice soft. his eyes, half-obscured by heavy eyelids and dark lashes, settled on your face, watching intently as he used his fingers to smear his spit over your pussy. "what you need is someone who knows when you’re ready to take it."

and you were. as soon as he applied a little pressure to his fingers, working at the tight muscles of your entrance, your pussy opened for him, stretching around him for the very first time.

"someone who knows when you’re dying for it..." his voice was hazy and low. your head went foggy, dropping forward as he pushed into you. your noses brushed together, and he pushed deeper, the air muffled with your pleasured gasps. "...so they can give you exactly the relief you need."

"and when they finally sink into your pretty pussy..."

with his mouth against your jaw, he sank one finger all the way into you, slow and easy. then it was all the way inside, and you shuddered, clenching around him.

"...you’re already gonna be so worked up..."

you trembled, pulling at his hair as he pumped his finger slowly in and out of you, aching to be full of him, to take him deeper.

"...and you’ll be so wet already, so needy..."

you whimpered his name as he pulled it out, craving the stretch of him like nothing else.

"...that when they give you more..."

he slipped another finger in, stretching you out around two. he gave them to you all the way, letting you take them to the knuckle, letting you feel the warm skin of his hand pressed up against your entrance for a second before he fucked them into you. he curled them forward so your soft moans and all the sticky, wet sounds joined the rain beating outside.

"...you’ll already be so close. won’t you, baby?"

he was right. you were so close, gasping “yes, yes,” dripping down his knuckles while that knot in your lower stomach tightened. 

"but the most important thing," he slurred, your thick arousal dripping down his fingers, each movement filling the car with wet noises, "is that they’re willing to learn what spots make you feel best. right here, sweetheart?"

his fingers pressed deeper, curling into a spot that felt good.

you gasped, "y-yeah—"

then he adjusted, saying, "or there?"

he angled his hand, pressing into a spot that felt even better. it felt so good that it drew out a burst of wetness, making your pussy clamp down on him suddenly, and his cock pulsed underneath you in response. he moved his fingers again, curled them a little harder, and fucked more wetness out of you.

"right there makes you squirt? that feel good, baby?" he groaned.

he stuck to that spot, fucking another short burst out of you that made your thighs shake. he coaxed you the whole time, cooing as you told him how close you were to cumming for him, how good he gave it to you.

“yeah? you want more?" he asked sweetly — but he was already giving it to you, working over that little sweet spot deep in your pussy, again and again, watching you try not to fall apart. you were so close, and he pressed his thumb to your aching clit, rubbing it as he fingerfucked you.

"do you get it yet?"

you couldn’t manage an answer, just a few jumbled words cut off by heightening moans.

"you need somebody who knows how to make this pussy cum."

your thighs trembled around his, your toes curling — you grabbed at his hair, pulled him into a kiss, and into your mouth 

"you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you?" he asked lazily.

"yeah, yes, yes," you gasped.

"i know you need to cum badly, i can feel it. let it go, baby."

one simple instruction. just like that, you spilled over, doing exactly as he said. this was how he rewarded you — encouraging you as the tension snapped, letting you cum for the first time on fingers that weren’t your own. they were longer, better, drenched and fucking you through your orgasm as pleasure rolled through you in waves.

you slumped forward with the last wave, catching your breath against his chest, feeling its slow and steady rise and fall. in the hollow of his chest, you heard the low hum of his voice, reassurances murmured to ease you down as you closed your eyes. you felt his arms wrapped tight around you, his large hands on your skin — squeezing your neck gently, rubbing your back, keeping you safe. 

“was that okay?” he asked softly.

"that was perfect." you shifted on his lap, grinding your hips forward right into the hard length of his dick.

jaafar let out a low groan, his head rolling back against the leather headrest. "fuck..." he murmured your name, his voice desperate.

you knew how badly he wanted it. it was obvious, especially when you dropped your eyes down to his crotch, watching the outline of his dick tenting the fabric of his sweatpants.

but when he brought his head back down to look at you, there was a hesitance in his eyes, bordering on guilt.

“i don’t have a condom on me,” he said softly, his thumbs stroking your hips carefully. “i’m sorry, baby, i didn’t expect—”

you shook your head before he could finish. “’s okay. i would’ve told you not to wear one anyway.”

he murmured your name again, his brow furrowing like he was trying to talk you out of it, trying to be the responsible one. but you already knew he was going to fuck you. he’d do anything for you, give you whatever you asked for.

“when you put it in,” you whispered, holding his gaze, “i want to feel all of you.”

jaafar cursed under his breath.

“are you sure?” he asked, searching your face, but you could already feel his dick twitching and swelling beneath you at the thought of taking you raw. his body was giving him away.

“i’m sure.” you said as you tugged his shirt up. 

jaafar reached up to help you, lifting his arms so you could pull the fabric over his head and toss it onto the back seat.

as your eyes adjusted to him, your breath caught in your throat. he’d been working out consistently for his role — putting in endless hours to get into shape and build stamina — and it was showing in every line of his body. his shoulders were broad, his torso cut and defined, with lean, smooth muscle stretching tight over his ribs and chest.

you reached out, pressing your hands to the center of his stomach and slowly rubbing up his torso, feeling the heat of his skin.

you traced up over his chest, feeling his heart pounding against your palms, before letting your fingers drag back down.

"you got so strong," you murmured, staring at him in awe.

jaafar stayed still under your touch, eyes heavy and fixed on your face as you admired him.

"you know," you added with a soft laugh, "there was probably a point in our lives where i could've taken you in a fight."

a low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "you really think you could take me?"

it didn't sound like he was talking about a fight anymore.

the heat of his quiet voice on your skin, combined with the slight jerk of his dick in his pants — still so hard, pressed tight between his body and yours — sent a wrenching heat straight through your stomach.

"could i take you...?" you breathed.

you reached down between your bodies, grazing your fingers over the bulge against his thigh, tracing all the way down the long, thick length of it through his sweatpants.

probably not.

"i don't know, j." a firm squeeze to his dick through the fabric had his breath catching hard in his throat, his jaw clenching as a needy look filled his eyes. "but i'm dying to find out."

you felt his dick respond as he leveled himself in front of you.

"are you sure?" he rasped.

“never been more sure. i want this so bad, you don’t even know.”

“okay, sweetface,” he said softly, before placing a light kiss on the tip of your nose.

you pouted, crinkling your nose up at the nickname. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?” he teased, his face breaking into a lazy smile as he moved his body slowly over yours, rubbing his hard dick right against you. “you don’t like it when i call you names?”

“n-not like that,” you laughed shakily, spreading your thighs wider so he could get closer. “not that.”

with the same teasing tone, his thrusts getting a little harder, his dick more persistent against you, he murmured, “what kind of names do you like, then?”

he dropped his head down, breath fanning over your throat with each word, his hair tickling your skin. “baby?”

“y-yeah...”

“yeah?” he slurred, trailing kisses up the column of your neck, over your hammering pulse. he paused right under your ear, his lips lingering on your hot skin. “you like angel?”

your stomach went instantly into knots. “yes, j.”

he placed a soft kiss right below your ear.

“princess?”

“yeah, yes.”

he nipped your earlobe, thrusting his hips again, pressing the thick length of him hard against your body.

“and what about good girl?” he asked softly against your ear.

you gasped and pulled on his hair, overwhelmed by it all — the feeling of his weight on you, the way he was grinding his cock against you, his low, breathy voice, and those words dripping from his lips.

“that’s what you like,” he said, and it wasn't a question. “you wanna be a good girl for me, i know you do.”

he trailed light kisses over your skin — up from your jaw, to your cheek, to your lips.

then he looked down at you, his eyes low when he said, “that’s why you keep cumming so easily for me, isn’t it?”

you bit your lip, unable to find your voice, but still gave him one small nod.

“now if you want to be even better for me, baby,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips tight as he lined himself up, “you’re gonna cum all over my dick.”

you could barely get an affirmation out before you couldn’t take the waiting anymore. you knotted your hands up in his hair and pulled him into a sloppy, desperate kiss.

this time you could feel the firmness of his body on yours, the heat of his skin, his burning hot fingers on your bra clasp. a quick movement that made your bra pop free.

you pulled it off as soon as it was undone, dropping it off the seat while his tongue was still in your mouth.

you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him flush against you. a groan slipped out of his mouth, caught up in yours as his weight pressed you down into the leather  —  his chest on your tits, his dick hard against your pussy, separated from you by just the soaked fabric of his sweatpants and your thong.

“fuck, baby,” he sighed, rocking his hips, dragging his clothed bulge back and forth over your clit so slowly while you murmured his name, telling him how good he made you feel, how wet he got you. you let him tease you until you couldn’t take it anymore, whining for more.

“tell me what you want,” he coaxed sweetly between thrusts. “want me to stretch this pretty pussy out?”

"fuck me… i wanna feel you so deep in me—" it all spilled out of your mouth in a stupor.

“y’know i’m gonna give you anything you want, don’t you?”

“you’re gonna take care of me?” you shuddered.

his reply was a low murmur against your neck. “don’t i always?”

his big hands travelled over your skin, his long fingers hooking over the sides of your panties, easing them slowly downward. he slipped them off you and looked down cloudily, his eyes grazing over every inch of bare skin.

“you don’t know how long i’ve wanted this,” he said softly.

you breathed his name, tracing your hands down his abdomen, over the light sheen of sweat on his skin. you reached down to palm the hard outline of his dick through his pants, hearing him breathe shakily as you pulled his zipper down.

you pulled his sweatpants and boxers down together, and he let you. he watched, inhaling through bared teeth, as you pulled his dick out and wrapped your fingers around it.

“you’re so big,” you murmured, met with a soft groan.

he was so hot, so hard, throbbing in your hand. he was already slick with precum, the slit of his dick oozing, smearing more onto your palm. but you were a bigger mess — your pussy dripping onto the seat beneath you as you spread your thighs wider around his hips, dying to take him.

“baby, baby,” he moaned softly, shuddering as you tightened your grip on his dick. gliding your palm back and forth, dragging his precum all the way down to the base and back up, you could feel the blood pulsing in his veins, getting him even stiffer.

eyelashes fluttering against his feverish face, his eyes tracked your hand as you stroked him. “look what you’re doing to me. feel how bad i want you?”

“are you gonna give it to me, jaafar?” you whined.

“so eager,” he hummed, fixing his eyes between your thighs as he lowered his body over yours. “i wanna take my time with you.”

he shifted beneath you, reaching past your hips to release the lever on the side of the seat. with a click, he leaned the seat back, moving you so that you were on the seat. he was hovering over you now, his heavy frame pressed between your thighs as he lowered his body over yours.

you hung onto his biceps, digging your nails into his skin as he wrapped a hand around his dick, supporting the heavy weight of it in his palm as he positioned himself above you. with the tip over your pussy, he gave the shaft one slow stroke up from the base and watched his precum dribble onto your clit.

“i need you inside,” you gasped.

“can you even take the whole thing?” he asked so sweetly.

you didn’t know if you could, not with the size of him, but you wanted it so bad that you nodded anyway.

you saw him smile a little in the low light before he craned his neck down. “we’ll see.”

he pressed his dick to your pussy and slid all that wetness — his precum, your arousal — over it. he stimulated you over and over, until his breaths were coming fast and heavy, and you were whimpering about how good it felt.

“jaafar, please,” you begged. “i want more.”

“you’re so sweet for me; ‘course i’m gonna give you as much as you can take.” he tapped the head of his dick against your clit. not hard, but enough of a pleasurable jolt that you bucked your hips up, chasing the touch. “but first i want you to see how deep i can get.”

he laid the hot length of his dick on your pussy, letting the wetness on his shaft meet your skin. you were soaked with slick, glistening all over your thighs

 jaafar got it messier, sliding his dick over your cunt — back, then forward — stimulating your clit with the head each time he moved through your folds.

he stopped with his dick laid out on your stomach, heavy and throbbing.

“you’re gonna feel me in your stomach, baby.” he slurred.

“i want it,” you shuddered, pulling him into another kiss as he rubbed himself over you.

“i know you do, i know.”

he pulled back then, dropping his body down a little to position the tip of his dick against your fluttering entrance. you craved the stretch, gasping at the tail end of a kiss.

he lingered there — breath shaky and catching in his throat.

“okay, baby, okay,” he whispered as he pushed inside, just barely stretching your entrance around the tip.

you both moaned at the same time.

a little further in, the heat of him filled you, his dick stretching your walls open.

“oh, you’re so wet,” he groaned.

he was shuddering, and you were gasping, “you feel so good.”

he was so hard for you, so snug against your walls that you could feel his dick pulse as he pushed in deeper, his lazy voice dripping with euphoria, “so good for me, baby... feel good when i fuck you raw? are you getting what you wanted?”

“yes, yes... more.”

“so tight,” he murmured, and you clamped down around him, hearing him suck in a breath through his teeth. “y’have be careful squeezing me like that… might cum inside you. you know i shouldn’t do that.”

“but i want it.”

“yeah? you want me to fill you up. make me yours?” his breath caught as he pushed the throbbing length of his dick further in, filling you up deeper and deeper with what you’d been wanting so desperately. “you want me to fill you up, baby? wanna be my girl?” 

“yes, j,” you gasped, fingers knotting tight in his soft hair, pulling his mouth inches from yours. “i wanna be yours.”

each word was breathy, said with so much pleasure that it made your insides expand to accommodate more of him. one glance between your spread thighs — where he was lowering his lean weight as he sank his dick into your puffy, wet pussy — was enough to make your toes curl on the leather seats. watching him sink deeper was too much; you were unable to hold your soft moans in.

“you like watching me stretch it out, don’t you?”

you nodded with your lip caught between your teeth, unable to manage an answer, just a whine.

“jaafar,” you gasped, fingers knotting in his soft hair as you looked up into his dark eyes. “i want all of you.”

jaafar’s gaze softened, a heavy, tender warmth breaking through the haze of pleasure on his face. he leaned down, hovering just an inch over your lips, his hot breath fanning across your mouth as his hips kept a slow, agonizing grind against yours.

“you have me, baby,” he whispered, his voice thick and rough with emotion. “all of me. i’m all yours.”

“yeah?” you breathed, your heart hammering against your ribs.

“yeah,” he murmured, placing a lingering, desperate kiss on the corner of your mouth before sinking his dick just a fraction deeper. “always been yours.”

you forced your eyes open, watching him sink in a little more. he stopped short, not pushing all the way in yet; you were already so full, and the bottom of his thick shaft was still visible. he fucked you like this — giving you as much as you could take, making sure you adjusted to him.

“feels so good in you, baby.”

you were so tight, so sensitive that you could feel him throbbing in you. when he pulled his dick almost all the way out, you could see it twitch before he stroked your wetness down the shaft, telling you to look how wet you were getting him. he was all lubed up from your pussy, practically dripping, and when he pushed back inside to fuck you, he was even harder.

you could barely keep your eyes open to watch, your eyelashes fluttering as you whined for his dick. “so fucking good... i’m so close—”

“you wanna cum again?” he asked, fucking you a little faster, a little deeper. “keep your eyes open, be good and watch yourself make a mess on my dick.”

your body treated his words like a command. that craving for his control physical; your body so desperate for his guidance that as soon as he gave it, the knot in your stomach released with a rush of pleasure.

your mouth dropped open; you were cumming, digging your fingernails into his biceps and whimpering, trying to keep your heavy eyelids open so you could watch him fuck you, seeing your pussy drenching his shaft.

“that’s right, baby, there you go... see how good this pussy is for me, how wet it gets for me?” his strokes started to slow as your orgasm died down, but he was still fucking you through every contraction; filthy words on his tongue said so sweetly, “see how fast it cums for me? how many orgasms are you gonna let me fuck out of you, princess?”

“more,” you gasped. “more—”

“you’re gonna let me fuck more out of you, huh? you’re gonna let me give you everything you need?”

“yes, jaafar, yes.”

your pussy was so sensitive from cumming that the stimulation felt insane. you’d barely come down from your last orgasm, and somehow you were building up again. even though he was slowing down, you couldn’t stop that cresting feeling.

“cumming so much for me... i know you needed this so bad, baby.”

“i need it so much, j,” you whined. “i need you to keep going, please... i need you to fuck me harder. i think... i think i’m gonna—”

“already?” he groaned, fucking you harder, faster, slurring, “oh, fuck, i can feel it... gimme another, lemme feel you cum again.”

it was so good, each stroke getting you closer, but you were craving more, something deeper. “gimme the whole thing, jaafar, please.”

he swore under his breath, shaking his head, so much pleasure on his face. “i don't wanna overwhelm you.”

“please, j.”

“god,” he shuddered, slipping in a little deeper.

you watched him sink his dick in, your wetness coating the shaft further down. as he pushed all the way in, the head of his dick kissed right against your cervix — a deep, intense stretch that made you gasp, your toes curling around his waist.

he groaned, raw satisfaction making his voice hoarse, and pulled back slightly, breathing hard. “you okay, baby?”

“yes, yes, yes— it feels so good.”

“tell me if it’s too much,” he said, his voice thick with anticipation as he pushed inside, going deep. “tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

you nodded, so much tension stored up in your quivering walls as he coaxed them open. you whined for more, wanting him deeper.

“you want me to give you the whole thing? yeah? you wanna take my dick deep?” he put a big hand on your stomach, pressing down on it as he pushed forward, coaxing, “oh, fuck, baby, you’re taking so much... doing so well for me... that’s a good girl, take it all the way.”

you took it all the way — right up against that sweet pressure, taking every single inch of him. you locked your legs around his waist, telling him with tears beading in your lashes, “you’re so big, ‘’m so close.”

he was getting so much gratification at the end of each stroke. he felt it in his catching breath, in his long fingers as they pressed into your lower stomach, feeling himself fucking you, feeling himself buried deep inside.

he pulled back for another stroke, thrusting back in, and you watched his face change as he got all the way in — his eyes flitting down to your pussy, his mouth dropping open slightly when he saw you taking him balls deep. eyebrows knit, he watched himself move in and out, his entire length coated in you.

“takin’ it so deep,” he murmured, his voice thick with pleasure. “no one’s ever...” he was overwhelmed, unable to finish his sentence, gritting his teeth as he pushed back in.

you were begging for it harder, getting fucked with his big hand on your stomach and that full feeling making your walls clench around his dick with every thrust. 

his mouth met your skin, kissing your jaw and cheek as he fucked you, his mouth kissing at your neck before he murmured, “feels so good, doesn’t it?”

“yeah— f-feels so good.”

“you want me to mark you up, baby? you want me to fuck you so deep, you feel it in the morning?”

you whined for it. “yes, yes, yes.”

it was building; all of it was getting sloppier, more needy — his thrusts, his words slurred against your throat, his breaths catching as you tangled your fingers into his hair and tightened your legs around his waist. his voice was so breathy with pleasure, so desperate for release, making your pussy clench up around him each time he murmured to you.

“i’ve been so close for so long, baby... you don’t even know how close i was earlier when i felt you cumming on me. almost had to pull out, i wanted to fill you up so bad.”

“i want you to fill me up,” you gasped.

“i can’t do that, baby,” he panted against your throat, fucking you hard enough to make the car rock with each thrust. desperation was in each breath; it was building up, and you were right on the edge too, your walls slick and quivering around his dick. “god, i need to... but you know i shouldn’t.”

“please, please...” there was a tremor in your voice, another wave threatening to wash over. “you said you’d give me anything i wanted.”

“fuck,” he murmured. “how am i supposed to say no to you?”

there was tension in the hot air, the windows fogged up with the warmth of your rocking bodies and desperate breaths. you were both so close, so sloppy  — spit on your lips, sweat on your skin, your moans heightening with each stroke.

“you really want my cum?” he asked, his voice raw.

“i need it,” you whined.

then he was groaning softly, your moans getting louder as he panted, “cum on me, baby... cum on me and i’ll fill this pretty pussy up, i’ll get you nice and full just like you want.”

that was all it took — just the promise of being full of his load, and you crashed over, gasping, “i’m— oh fuck—” the curve of his dick hit just right, splitting your convulsing walls open as he hit that sensitive spot deep inside.

“good girl, my good fucking girl,” he slurred as your walls gushed all over his dick, digging his fingers into your ass. “you deserve so much cum, baby—”

his lashes fluttered, his face dropping forward, and then he was half-panting, half-moaning against your jaw, his thrusts sloppy, his hips catching as his dick twitched inside you. you could feel every inch of him, every throb as your sensitive walls pulsed around him.

the warmth came in spurts, a growing fullness as he shot his warm load deep into you. it was pulled further inside with each contraction of your walls, but there was so much of it that as his strokes went lazy, it gushed out around his dick and dribbled down your skin.

he stayed deep until you were both done, and when he pulled out — looking down, breathing hard — his dick was glistening, a mess of your cum and his, a little white surge leaking from the tip and dripping onto your stomach.

he swore under his breath, his face hazy.

“look at you,” he murmured, eyes still on your pussy. “you’re so pretty, baby.”

his lips were on yours again. he placed a light kiss on the left corner of your mouth.

you looked over at him in the soft glow of the dashboard — the sharp line of his jaw, the soft curve of his mouth.

“i meant what i said, you know,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “about being yours. it’s not just because of tonight. i’ve cared about you for way too long to ever let this be just a one-time thing.”

"yeah?" you squeezed his hand in yours, your thumb tracing the familiar lines of his knuckles.

"yeah."

you leaned up, pressing a slow, sweet kiss to his lips, feeling him immediately melt into it. when you pulled back, a teasing smile broke across your face as you looked at him.

“you know... i really didn't expect you to be such a dirty talker.”

a sheepish grin broke across his face. his chest rose and fell in a breathy laugh as a flush crept up his neck. "i don't know... you brought it out of me."

for years, you’d convinced yourself that love was supposed to be something you had to chase, something complicated that always left you feeling like you were settling for less than you deserved. you’d let other men touch you without ever really seeing you, leaving you wondering why it never felt the way it was supposed to.

but the truth was undeniable. it had always been him. the boy who knew every version of you, the friend who’d spent years quietly holding your world together, was the only one who could ever really have all of you.

jaafar brought your joined hands up to his lips, placing a tender kiss over your knuckles.

───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───

once again, i got carried away </3

also ik i had more things listed in the cw in the ss i posted the other day but it was getting a bit too long.. don't be mad at me

i'll prob just write them into another fic :p

Muted footsteps fell to a halt the moment he rounded the corner, tired eyes blinking slowly at the otherwise empty room— save for the body slumped over a stack of books and a laptop open with a low battery warning flashing on the screen.

Jaafar leaned back a bit, making sure he had the right number for the room the study group was supposed to meet in.

He was only ten minutes late, it couldn’t be over already.

Taking a careful step in, he knocked once on the door and watched in slight amusement as your head shot up. Your arm nearly knocking over the bright pink can of an energy drink that was clearly useless.

You blinked sleep away from you, gaze slating over to the door.

He took note of how striking your eyes were, the dark eyeliner slightly smudged around the corners. Filing the sight away for later, though he tried not to pay any mind to why.

“Um,” he said like a complete idiot, acting as though he’d never talked to a girl before. “Is this the study group for Biochem 301?”

You nodded, stifling a yawn behind a manicured hand and gestured for him to sit down.

Jaafar settled in a chair a few down from you, across the table and he looked up at the sound of you laughing slightly.

“What?”

You bit your cheek, nodding to the Duke crewneck he was wearing. “I love the school spirit.”

He looked down at it as well, blushing slightly. “It’s laundry day,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m not making fun of you!” You rushed, lowering the collar of your hoodie so he could peek at the Duke t-shirt you were wearing underneath.

Jaafar shook the memory away as he watched you walk out into the living room, wearing that exact shirt two years later. Recalling faintly how you had told him at the end of the study session that the two of you were pre-med soul mates and if you didn’t graduated together, you could at the very least enter into a suicide pact.

You had been jarring to get used to at first.

Not in any bad way, it was just a different energy than he wasn’t used to. And he’d hate to admit it, but you were likely the only reason he ever left his room besides classes or the internship he had at the hospital.

Your ability to balance a social life was remarkable.

He watched you silently, as usual, as you bent down to pick up your cat before sitting at the counter to watch him cook.

“It smells great,” you hummed.

He was about to reply when another set of footsteps entered the room— your latest… thing.

“I’m starving,” the man added. Dylan. Or maybe his name was Jake. Something simple and bland, he was sure of it.

Jaafar simply glanced at him as he continued to cut thin slices of vegetables.

He could feel you watching him. Your gaze, though warm, had a clinical touch to it. Picking apart the fault lines of his carefully crafted expression and he didn’t even have to look at you to know you were going through a mental checklist in your head over what he was possibly thinking.

He hated when you did that. Not that it was even through any fault of your own, it was second nature to you. It was how you moved about the world, how you tried to communicate. Half of the reason you were even becoming a psychiatrist.

You turned to Dylan-slash-Jake, your smile placid. “I think I’m gonna call it an early night, I have a lot to do tomorrow.”

And like clock work, Jaafar pretended as if he wasn’t paying attention to every minute movement of yours as you practically kicked the guy out. Shoving away the annoyance he felt pricking at his sides when you kissed the dude on the lips before shutting the door.

He felt you watching him.

“I’m making one of your favorites,” he offered after a moment.

Your eyes narrowed slightly as you walked into the kitchen and stood beside him at the stove.

“You don’t like him.”

Jaafar scoffed slightly as he lowered the heat, bringing the water down to a simmer. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“You didn’t have to—“

“Don’t do that. You know I hate it when you do that.”

You raised your hands up. “I didn’t even say anything.”

“Don’t do that either,” he pointed the spoon at you. “I hate the mimicking.”

“You hate everything so that’s not even a fair statement.”

He opened his mouth, losing his footing on what exactly he even wanted to say. “I do not… whatever. You’re here griping and I’m making you food.”

You rolled your eyes, but his shoulders eased a little as he caught sight of the smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He stirred the food, glancing at you as you started to pull out plates and cutlery.

“And I don’t know enough about him to hate him, by the way.”

You snorted. “I said you didn’t like him, so you just admitted that you don’t.”

Jaafar rolled his eyes as he shut off the heat.

He didn’t hate any of the guys you brought around, per se. Strong dislike that bordered on loathing? Maybe. But he was never known to be so dramatic.

“Just eat, I don’t feel like discussing your love life right now.” His cadence came off a little more cold than he had intended.

You paused, only for a moment. Your hands faltering in their movements as your gaze paused briefly on whatever was in front of you and he immediately regretted his bluntness. Knowing that he sometimes got too wrapped up in his head that he let some slip out sometimes. Bitterness he felt burrowed deep inside of him that in no way was directed towards you.

“I…”

You smiled at him, your features slipping into something well practiced. Acting as though the last few moments didn’t happen as you filled your plate.

“Thank you for dinner.”

He stared at you, not knowing what else to do as you grabbed a napkin and squeezed his arm. A habit of yours he’d grown accustomed to over the years.

But the world came back into startling focus when he realized you’d walked past the dining table. “Aren’t we going to—“

“I’m going to eat while I study. Mid-terms and all that.” You didn’t look at him as you turned down the hall, the dull sound of your bedroom door opening and closing greeting his ears and he slumped against the kitchen counter.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly losing his appetite.

Like any decent human being, he hated it when he hurt your feelings. You never exactly made him feel bad about it. You were forgiving to a fault. Knowing how much he struggled to just talk on a good day and saving him the anxiety of a chopped up apology even though you deserved better than that.

★

It was nearing four in the morning as you quietly padded through the apartment, wincing slightly as you slid the balcony door open and it made a low groaning sound.

You blinked a few times at the night sky, willing the text that was swirling around in your vision to go away after hours of skimming through lecture notes and textbooks.

You couldn’t sleep. The affliction not new to you but definitely growing more petulant as the semester wore on. The bright flame of your lighter making your eyes hurt as you lit a cigarette, inhaling the lovely lull of nicotine.

Sliding your phone out of the front pocket of your hoodie, you squinted against the bright screen as you scrolled through your contacts. Gnawing at your lip as you debated on whether or not this was an appropriate thing to do.

But the thought of calling him or even having to see him face to face filled you with dread.

So, like an asshole, you placed your cigarette between your teeth and typed a half-assed breakup text to Dylan. Not that you two were technically anything exclusive to begin with so you were sure you weren’t breaking the guys heart.

You were about to shut your phone off but your eyes caught on your home screen. The photo you’d chosen hidden behind an array of apps you hardly used, your heart tugging at the sight of you and Jaafar from a frat party you had dragged him to at the end of freshman year.

You were horrendously drunk and likely bothering Jaafar to no end, not even remembering what you were saying to him in the moment. But he was sat down, a bottle of beer untouched in his hold as you leaned over him from behind the couch, your hair cascading down and hiding you as your hands held his face. Likely saying something ridiculous given the way he was smiling.

It was one of the rare photos you had of him given he shied away anytime you pulled out a camera.

Your thumb, entirely on its own accord, clicked the messages app and your attention fell on his contact photo. Another gem you held dearly.

After signing the lease to the apartment, you two went out to dinner and you’d managed to snag a picture of him smiling. Looking slightly bashful as he let you snap the photo.

You lived for those small moments with him. When he’d let his guard down a little. When he’d act like the rest of the world disappeared and it was just you and him. Your mind trying desperately not to put a name on the ache you felt chewing away at your chest.

The notion alone was entirely ridiculous. Half of the time you weren’t sure if he even liked you as a friend or just tolerated your presence because you managed to annoy him the least out of all of his acquaintances.

But then he’d be so heart sickeningly sweet with the most aloof expression on his face that sometimes you wished you could just say to hell with it and hug him.

You had tried.

Once, the first time you had celebrated your birthday with him, Jaafar had put together the most heartfelt gift. Nearly making you cry because you felt known.

You had tried to hug him but he had gone so stiff, his arms hovering uselessly at your sides as he muttered Hugging isn’t really my thing.

You knew it wasn’t personal, he seemed to have an aversion to physical affection, so you settled for lightly squeezing his arm once in a while. Just to let him know you appreciated him in a way that he wouldn’t find uncomfortable. Other lingering touches you had no excuse for, but he never complained so you chalked it up to them being fleeting enough that it didn’t bother him.

You snubbed out what was left of your cigarette, rubbing tiredly at your eyes as you slid the door back open into the apartment. About to tread quietly back to your room, but you stopped short at the sight of Jaafar in the kitchen as he made a cup of coffee.

His scrubs rested neatly against his frame, hardly a wrinkle in sight with his badge from the hospital he was interning at pinned to the front. The light blue fabric stark against his tanned skin and you couldn’t help it as you watched his arms move, the corded muscle shifting as he made his breakfast.

Your eyes slid to the clock of the microwave, mentally groaning at the time and knowing you’d need to stop and buy an energy drink on your way to your first lecture.

“Coffee?” He asked, the sudden sound of his voice making you jump at being addressed.

You shook your head as you padded over, sliding into one of the barstools as you simply watched him.

“I’m sorry about—“

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not, I was being rude.”

You bit your cheek, noticing as always how he wasn’t quite able to meet your eye when he felt embarrassed about something.

Toying with the hem of your hoodie, you shrugged. “I know it’s probably annoying with guys being in and out of here, I shouldn’t throw drama about it on top of that. I know you have better things to do.”

His brows furrowed. “That’s not…” Jaafar sighed, taking a sip of his coffee and looking just as tired as you felt. “You were right, I don’t like him.”

An invisible string pulled at the corner of your lips, “well you don’t have to concern yourself with him anymore.”

“You broke up with him?”

“Over text.”

He whistled. “Harsh.”

“Like you care,” you snorted.

“I don’t,” he admitted. Hiding his smile behind his coffee cup and you felt that warm tug low in your stomach at the sight of it.

“When are you done today?” You asked, watching as he packed the food he made into containers and slid it into his bag.

“Around noon.”

“Wanna grab lunch?”

“Of course.”

With that you waved a small goodbye as he headed out the door, your shoulders slumping a little when it clicked shut and you were left alone in the apartment. The air suddenly stilling, the warmth of him evaporating immediately and you pulled your hoodie tighter around you.

It felt codependent but you hated it when he left. It was as if everything suddenly dialed to eleven while also becoming horribly muted. Sending your nervous system into a frayed sense of panic and you could never pin point what exactly was wrong. Your bones itched, the skin feeling too tight around your body and you rolled your jaw. Wishing he would walk back in the door and stay.

It was ridiculous. You were ridiculous.

Knowing damn well this was simply life and the career path both of you had chosen was bound to get in the way of quiet moments.

Your mind desperately pushing away the impending moment he would get sent off for his residency, even though you knew you had a while until that happened— he would be leaving you. Hell, they might send him across the country. Maybe he’d go back to California. The sunshine and beaches lulling away the memory of you into a hazy daydream he once had.

Taking a shaking breath, you forced yourself up and got ready for the day. Telling yourself you were fine and ignoring the way your hands trembled as you tried to do your makeup.

★

There was a pattern in the way you two navigated around each other. A comfortable system Jaafar was able to rely on while it simultaneously nipped away at his sanity.

Finals had just ended, and you’d dragged him out to an end of the semester slash Christmas party some of your mutual friends had thrown at their apartment.

Corny holiday decorations were strewn across the ceiling with the lights twinkling from the tree they had put up. Christmas music pouring through the speakers as chatter danced low beneath it.

Jaafar took a sip of his eggnog, his face screwing up slightly at the amount of alcohol in it. He should’ve known better than to let you make it, you had a heavy pour.

At the thought of you, his eyes drifted up to where you were in the kitchen. Laughing at something your friend said as you laid out more snacks for the party. Your smile warm and glowing in the low light, the Christmas sweater you had decided to wear with tinsel all over it shimmering every time you moved.

Just as you turned, he looked away. Forcing himself to take another drink. The taste of rum was strong, but he had the feeling he’d need to be a little tipsy as the night progressed.

Eventually someone clapped, getting everyone’s attention as they announced the gift exchange was starting.

Jaafar’s fingers brushed against the small velvet box in his pocket, feeling nervous for no good reason as he made his way over to where you were sat on the balcony outside. Your own gift for him held tightly in your arms.

He felt ridiculous as he handed it to you, trying to be as nonchalant as possible even though he could physically feel his heart beat in every artery of his body.

Your fingers brushed along the velvet before you lifted the lid, freezing as your eyes landed on what was inside.

“Jaafar, what…”

He looked down at his hands, wringing them till they hurt. “You mentioned liking that one and I just thought it’d look nice but if—“

His sentence got cut off in a huff of surprise as you hugged him. The chair he was sitting in rocking back dangerously at the force of it and he steadied it as best he could with his foot. Blinking in a daze as it dawned on him what exactly was happening. You two didn’t touch very often, so the blatant show of affection was making him short circuit.

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, your hair brushing against his face and you were half way onto his lap. The smell of your perfume wafting around him in a pleasant way that made him a little dizzy.

Hug her back, you idiot.

Slowly, like it was his first day on earth, his arms settled around you.

“Thank you, I love it.” You muttered.

Jaafar’s arms subconsciously pulled you closer. “You’re welcome.”

He wasn’t sure how long had passed, the world felt hazy at the edges, when you pulled back. Blushing at the proximity as you sat back in your chair.

“Sorry, I know you’re not a hugger.”

He shook his head, “it’s fine.” He actually didn’t mind it all that much, but with you it had been a boundary he set for himself.

You gently took the necklace out of the box, the delicate chain catching in the light and your smile was small as you admired it.

“Help me put it on?”

He nodded, standing and gesturing for you to turn around.

Holding his breath as you did and you pulling up your hair. His fingers gently brushing against your skin as he clasped it and trying not to read too much into the way you shivered at his touch.

“There you go,” he didn’t mean for it to come out as a whisper.

You slowly turned around, letting your hair fall and your eyes met his.

Standing so close and glowing in the evening light, your cheeks and nose a little red from the cold and he had the brief thought of how adorable you looked, but he shoved it away to the part of his mind he always tried to ignore.

Your teeth sunk slightly into your bottom lip and his eyes gravitated towards the sight on their own accord.

“Merry Christmas, J.”

And then you were leaning in and the world stopped moving. His heart beating so loud he thought he was going deaf.

Your lips lightly pressed to his cheek, just shy of his mouth.

Before he could even think to do anything, you had backed away and slipped inside.

Leaving him standing there, still staring at the spot you had just been. Wishing if he thought hard enough, you’d still be there.

Wishing he wasn’t such a coward.

jaafar jackson masterlist

taglist: @mikaylajacksonnn

Seemingly sensing his presence, you turn your attention towards the doorway that he’s leaned himself against to watch you, your scowl softening into something closer to a smile. Jaafar thinks you’ve never been as beautiful as you are right now, even though he knows you’d scoff and roll your eyes at him if he said anything.

So instead, he crosses the kitchen to reach you, standing close enough to smell the lotion you’ve slathered yourself with. The scent relaxes him because it’s so quintessentially you, the same scent you’ve been using in the summertime since you met. He takes in your slightly hunched form, the way the hand you’re not using to shovel cereal into your mouth rests on the swell of your bump, and he frowns to himself. 

“What’s got you so stressed, huh?” Jaafar settles his hands on the back of your neck, fingertips stretching down towards your shoulder and trailing softly along the fabric of your t-shirt.

“‘M not stressed,” you counter as you grab another handful of cereal straight from the box. 

“That’s why your shoulders are all tight? And you’re standing here, eating cereal like a crazy person.” He’s grinning at you as he teases, even as he presses harder into your stiff neck and shoulders, trying to work out some of the tension for you. 

“My shoulders are tight because of this,” you gesture down at your ever growing bump with your free hand, “and the cereal tastes better this way.”

The thought of pouring the cereal into a bowl, adding milk, and eating it with a spoon made your stomach turn. Dry cereal straight from the box, however, sounded like the most delicious food on the planet. You’d have to remember to buy a variety of boxes when you went to the store, so you didn’t get sick of it. Right now, it was one of the few things you wanted to eat. 

“So it has nothing to do with the baby shower?” You can see from Jaafar’s expression that he doesn’t believe you, but you shake your head regardless. 

“Not at all,” you say, and it’s so obvious you’re lying that he just smiles at you, tugs you closer and wraps his arms around you. It’s a bit awkward with the bump, but you can feel the love in the gesture all the same. 

“It’s all been handled,” he says softly into the crown of your head, “you don’t have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t know what to wear,” you grumble, and it may sound like you’re just making up things to get anxious about, but it’s been keeping you up at night for days. Finding clothes you felt comfortable in, that you fit in, and that didn’t make you sweat as soon as you stepped outside was nearly impossible. “And I don’t wanna talk to people.”

Jaafar laughs at that, even though you’re deadly serious and only being a little bit overdramatic. You’d only invited your closest family and friends to the baby shower, all people that you loved having around and spending time with. Right now, though, the thought of seeing anyone besides Jaafar made you preemptively scowl. You’re sure you’ll feel better when the time comes, but for now you need to be grumpy and irritated and shoveling dry cereal into your mouth by the handful. 

The two of you stand like that for a moment, until your feet start to ache and your back twinges and even all the cereal in the world won’t make you feel any better. With a sigh, you run your hand along the curve of your bump, feeling the little fluttery movements of your baby against your palm. Jaafar trails you as you make your way to the bathroom, and while some might find his continued presence overwhelming, it’s one of the only things that can act as a balm when you’re feeling this sour.

He sits with you as you go through your skincare, as you fix your hair and put on just a little bit of makeup because you simply don’t have the energy for much else and you know you’re going to sweat it all off anyway. And then you turn to your closet with a frown affixed on your face.

In the summers when you weren’t pregnant and you knew it would be hot, you settled for a shirt, flowy dress that would keep you cool but still make you look presentable. But now, none of your old clothes even remotely fit as you entered your third trimester, and anyway those dresses you liked would look ridiculous with the bump even if they did fit.

“It’s your day, baby, you can wear whatever you want,” Jaafar reminds you as he pulls his own clothes out of the closet, “you can wear that if it’ll make you comfortable.”

He gestures at the outfit you’re currently wearing, and you just huff, in no mood for his antics. Still, you have to fight against a smile when he laughs at your reaction.

“Whoever said to be pregnant in the summer is a fucking liar,” you mutter as you pull a hanger from the closet and promptly put it back. You’d gone shopping a few weeks ago to find a dress for your baby shower, and even those options don’t seem appealing to you now.

With a sigh, you sit down on the edge of the bed and your body is immediately grateful it doesn’t need to hold itself up any more.

“We still have plenty of time, we can run out and find something?” Jaafar offers as he finishes getting dressed, taking in your dejected form on the bed. You do not, in fact, have plenty of time, but he thinks it would be an acceptable excuse to be late to your own baby shower.

“No, it’s fine,” you push yourself up to standing with a groan as you remember one last dress you bought the other week, “I just feel like a fucking blimp.”

“Well, you’re the cutest blimp I’ve ever seen,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek as you pass him on the way to the closet.

“So unhelpful,” you retort, finding the dress you were looking for. The fabric seems light enough to keep you cool, and hopefully make you look less blimp-like than you felt. As your pregnancy had progressed, even tasks as simple as getting dressed seemed like an Olympic feat. You just felt so ungainly with the bump, the bump that seemed so much bigger than yesterday and that will only continue to grow.

By the time you were finally dressed and in the car, on the way to your friend’s house who had offered to host and plan for you, you were in a much better mood than earlier. Sure, you still felt absurdly pregnant and slightly irritated at everything, but the thought of talking to people didn’t make you want to rip your hair out anymore, so you counted that as progress.

“You look beautiful,” Jaafar says softly after he parks the car, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world. In lieu of an answer, you lean over to kiss him, which is remarkably difficult given the gearshift between you and the bump that keeps you from bending over whatsoever, but you make it work.

The baby shower itself was beautiful. Your friend really pulled out all the stops for you, and it made you start crying the second you saw it even though you were quick to reassure everyone that they were happy tears as you dried your eyes and tried to salvage your mascara. Everything was decked out in soft pastels, baby pinks and butter yellows and gentle blues. 

It looked like something out of a dream, and it made you feel so utterly loved.

The whole day, really, made you feel loved. Everyone you cared about showed up, friends and family of yours and Jaafar’s, and it seemed like everyone was in a great mood. There was no drama, no fighting, and the only tears were your own because you just couldn’t help yourself. Your little baby was so loved, and they weren’t even born yet.

When it came time for the gifts, you were once again amazed with the little village you’d created for your family. All of the gifts were so incredibly thoughtful, you considered it a miracle that you weren’t a sobbing, snotting mess the whole time. There was a mix of the practical and the slightly ridiculous, from more diapers than you could ever imagine to the sweetest, softest tiniest pajamas you’ve ever seen. Stuffed animals and blankets and pacifiers, wall decor and baby wipes and a gift card to your favorite sushi place to celebrate all of your hard work when it was done.

You spent the whole day surrounded by your favorite people in the world, and Jaafar stayed glued to your side. He was there to bring you snacks and drinks, to remind you to take a break and sit down, to help you walk your way across the uneven landscape of the backyard. Often, you found yourself leaning against him, letting him take some of the weight off of you, and he was happy to do so. Every time you looked over at him, he was already smiling, already looking at you.

You’d never felt so loved, so cared for, as you did at that moment.

shoutout to @szalipcombo for the request, i hope you love it babe!!! still very much have the baby fever bug so like... if y'all wanna see more i am happy to oblige hehehe