‘ na ⋆.˚♬⋆.˚

you kept going out almost everyday at the same time. 5:30.

Jaafar had memorized what time you left and what time you came back. you’d always come back 2 hours later.

at first he didn’t suspect anything, he figured you were just going out to see your friends.

but you don’t see your friends every single day for only 2 hours at the same time now, do you?

its been happening since April, he didn’t know how to explain what he’s been feeling. he didn’t wanna check your phone because that wasn’t him. he trusted you.

but the urge was killing him. so while you were in the shower, he looked.

he didn’t really find anything though, he saw how you were speaking highly of him and how proud you were of him, so why were you leaving so much

to say the least, he’d gotten distant from you a little. he needed time to think. so he took that time to think.

meanwhile, you were having the time of your life at the movie theater by yourself. watching Jaafar. you came for a plot. and that plot was his cake. his big round ass. (IM SORRY LMFAO).

ever since he’s been working out with his trainer with those weird ass workouts, they were paying off, especially on that ass.

him in those striped pants, you had to take a picture. matter of fact, you took many pictures.

you came home, looking at all the pictures you took of Jaafar and him in the striped pants on the movie screen. but that was until Jaafar cleared his throat, looking at you.

you put the phone away immediately, he peeped that.

“So, what are you doing everyday at 5:30?” he asked you, straight up.

“What do you mean..?” you breathed out a laugh, but it was a nervous laugh.

“Please don’t play stupid with me. I’m not here to waste my time. If there’s someone else please just say that.” his eyes got watery.

“Jaafar.. that’s not why I’m leaving everyday.” you told him.

“Then why do you keep leaving everyday at the same time if it’s not to see another guy?” Jaafar asked, genuinely upset and confused.

you sighed, pulling out your phone and showing him all the pictures you took.

he looked at them confused. “Wha… what does this mean?”

you sighed again, “i go to the movies everyday and go to see your movie.. just for the striped pants.”

he paused, then he laughed. like a relieved laugh. “Oh my gosh, (Name). I really thought you were cheating on me, I’m so sorry. It’s just—” you shushed him.

“i understand, love. But at least now you know..” you said, shyly.

he kissed you softly.

“All you had to do was asked if you wanted to see me wearing them.”

Jaafar should’ve known something was up the moment his mother called and told him you had dropped y’all son off dressed like trouble.

Dress riding high. Heels higher.

He knew exactly what that meant. You were on some petty shit again, and he wasn’t about to let it slide.

His mother was usually the president of your fan club, always taking your side no matter what foolishness was going on between you and her son. But even she sounded a little concerned this time.

The signs had been there for months.

The tense side conversations at family functions. The way y’all would be whisper-yelling at each other one minute, then curled up together on the couch not even an hour later like nothing happened. Nobody knew the full depth of whatever weird, petty, tit-for-tat game your relationship had turned into.

But everybody knew it was something.

 And right in the middle of it all was the little boy y’all shared.

You knew you had to keep tonight quiet.

Could anybody really blame you though?

Last summer you were heavily pregnant, ready to pop, emotional, and stuck in the house. This summer? It was hot girl summer and you planned on participating.

Jaafar had technically said you could go out. His only condition was that you didn't have a bunch of dudes all in your face.

Which was exactly why his jaw nearly cracked when his phone started blowing up.

First it was Jermajesty.

"Bro. Your baby moms lost her mind."

Then his cousin.

"Check her Instagram."

The second he opened the video, his expression darkened.

There you were. At your favorite club.

Dress barely covering your ass, his pussy falling out your thong, dancing without a care in the world. Twerking to the music with some random dude behind you while your friends screamed and recorded.

And the song playing?

"Fuck my baby dad, fuck my baby dad, I'm a fine ass bitch, I ain't in the house sad."

His nostrils flared.

The familiar VIP section in the background told him exactly where you were.

Without saying a word, he stood up.

Grabbed his keys. Slipped on his Dunks. Walked out.

Before getting in the car, he sent one text. Bet.

Meanwhile, you were too busy checking your makeup in your front camera to pay attention.

The notification dropped down.

Pa: Bet.

You rolled your eyes. Typical Jaafar. Always on some dramatic bullshit.

Don't get it twisted you loved him. He was an amazing father. A gentleman. Protective. And irritating as hell.

Half the time he acted like he was one inconvenience away from backing you up against a wall and choking your ass out. The other half he was so sweet it made you sick. 

But he balanced you.

When your attitude hit a ten, he somehow dragged it back down to a two. Unfortunately for you, tonight wasn't one of those sweet moments. Because about twenty minutes later, your friend grabbed your arm.

"Girl..."

You looked up.

And immediately wished you hadn't.

Jaafar.

Standing near the entrance.

Denim Jacket.

Hands in his pockets.

Face blank.

Your stomach dropped.

"Oh hell."

The random guy you'd been dancing near took one look at him and disappeared into the crowd.

Smart man.

You turned back around.

Pretended not to see him.

Maybe if—

A hand wrapped around your wrist.

Firm. Not painful. Not gentle either.

"Jaafar, let go of me."

You tried to yank away. “Boy, get the fuck off me! I’m grown!”

He didn’t argue. Just pulled you through the crowd, past your shocked friends, and straight outside. The second the door shut behind you he had you against the car. “You really out here acting like you don’t got a whole son at home? Acting like you don’t know who the fuck I am?”

“Fuck you, Jaafar! You ain’t my man no more!”

He laughed once, dark and low. “That’s cute.” He opened the passenger door and pushed you inside. The drive back to his place was silent except for your attitude. You kept running your mouth the whole way calling him controlling, petty, saying you were single and could do whatever you wanted.

The second the front door closed he had you bent over the couch. “You done talking?”

“Pa, I swear to God—”

He yanked the dress up over your hips, ripped the thin panties down your thighs, and slapped your ass hard enough to make it jiggle. “Nah. You wanted to act out? You finna take this dick.”

He freed his cock, already hard and heavy, and shoved inside you in one rough thrust. You cried out, hands gripping the cushions. “ ’s too much, pa, wait!”

“Weren’t you just saying fuck me? now I’m fuckin you mamas. Take this dick.” He slapped your ass again, harder, then grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked your head back while he pounded into you from behind. The couch creaked under every thrust. Skin slapped loud against skin. Your moans turned loud and nasty, exactly how he liked it.

You reached down between your legs and rubbed your clit in fast circles. “Rub that shit for me. Cum for me, mamas. Let me feel my pussy cum on this dick.”

Your body locked up. Back arched, chest pressed down, legs shaking. Your cream running all over his cock, juices running down your thighs while he kept fucking you. “Look at you. Nasty ass. Creaming all on my dick like that.”

“I’m finna nut, pa, please!” you shouted, fingers still working your swollen clit.

Jaafar slammed in deep, holding you still as he came hard, flooding your pussy right against your cervix. Thick ropes of cum pumped inside you while he groaned low in your ear. “And you bet not push that shit out. Keep my shit in you. You gonna give me another one.”