A/N: absolutely nobody asked me for this but I was just thinking…
Warning: Spit/chewed gum mention
PervyBsf!Marlon always offers to throw your trash away! Like the gum that you were chewing lost its flavor ): no worries! Spit it out in his hand and he’ll throw it out take care of it.
“Since when did you get gum?”
“I had my own pack…”
His tongue traced over the grooves your teeth left behind in the bland mint ball. As long as he was tasting you it wasn’t gross. Right?
PervyBsf!Marlon loves making you laugh so it’s not out of the ordinary for his hands to tickle your sides. He only grabbed your boobs because you were squirming. Honest.
PervyBsf!Marlon does the right thing and offers himself up for kissing lessons.
“my lips are big so it’d be easier for you to learn on me”
“I don’t think that makes a difference Mar”
“it does! I’ll just have to show you”
PervyBsf!Marlon wants you to feel good and happy all the time so when it comes up that you were nervous to get yourself off he immediately offered to help.
“You could lay on your stomach but i’d be able to see better on your back”
“Like this?”
He shifted and unbuttoned his jeans
“yeah, that’s perfect! Now just do what comes naturally…”
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He thought it was funny to tease you, little touches here and there, whispering nasty things all harmless
now he’s laying on the bed straight on his back with you over him whining about how he needs to hurry and get hard again.
“baby you drained me, ain’t nothing left…” he closed his eyes and groaned when you started rubbing him, cum coated your fingers from the last 3 sessions
“can’t you just try one more time?”
You didn’t sound stern because it wasn’t a domination thing, it was the repercussion of waking up the neediness within you.
“you don’t know how much i missed you marlonn” you put your face in his neck.
“I have an idea how much mama” he cursed himself for getting hard again.
your hands went right back to his shaft, “there he is”
synopsis: jaafar knows he shouldn’t be fucking you while he has a fiancée — but when she’s such a bitch and you’re so perfect & so good to him — how can he not!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+, cheating (sorry idec at this point sue me)
thank you all so much for 2k followers! i love you all sm<3
Jaafar knew he was in trouble this time.
It had been harmless for a while now — something reserved for behind closed doors. Something he kept under very strict control. Something he’d never admit out loud — even to himself alone in a dark room.
Harmless.
There was nothing harmless about the way he fucked you every chance he got whilst having a fiancée.
Taking you against the bathroom door, hand clasped over your mouth to conceal your whines of pleasure. Or over the kitchen counter after his fiancée left for work. Or even in the same bed his wife to be slept in after you left, legs wobbling and a familiar throb between your thighs.
He knew it was wrong — especially since you were his brother’s friend. Someone who had been in his life since he was in his early 20’s — a constant reminder of something he could’ve had if he didn’t get into another relationship.
He had loved you from the second he set eyes on you. When Jermajesty introduced you both on a casual day, his heart ignited in desire. A want, no a need, for you so strong he physically felt a visceral reaction to you every time he saw you. Alas, he was harshly reminded you were meant to be friends, his brother’s friend, someone in close knit with the family — not someone to be romantically involved with. He moved on — physically, never emotionally.
He and Maddie, his future bride, weren’t the most thrilling of couples. They were simple, basic, easy — their marriage something to just say they’d done. Often lacking chemistry and connection, and that feeling deep in your soul where you know the person you’re with is the one.
Something he’d always felt for you.
The way he felt when you’d look at him, your pretty doe eyes peering up at him like he hung the stars, he could physically feel his heart thumping in his heart every time.
The affair started on Jermajesty’s birthday.
You got drunk — way too wasted, way too quick. The liquor hitting you harder than you expected as you stumbled through the Jackson home, bumping into walls, clutching onto door frame’s as you attempted to make it to the bathroom, before colliding straight into Jaafar, fairly tipsy himself.
He had been with Maddie a little over 3 years — bought their first home, talking of children and marriage, finally settling down.
Until he decided bending you over the sink and fucking you senseless sounded like a better idea.
And from there it blossomed.
Fucking you anywhere and everywhere — no matter the time. And every excuse was made.
Late home? He was on set. Or was he fucking you in his car in an empty parking lot?
Didn’t answer his phone? He was just busy! Busy stuffing your mouth full of his cock, more like.
He hated the way he felt no remorse, no guilt, no nothing. Just the sheer thrill of it — the excitement that filled his chest at thought of when he’d next be burying himself deep inside you.
He’d tell you, as he thought himself, ‘It’s harmless sex’. Something you’d laugh at — despite the cruel reality of it.
And the sex only got better when he and Maddie started fighting. Every day it was a new argument, brutal disputes that would only bring him back into your arms every time — love for her dying, and desire for you blooming.
The thought clouded his mind on set.
Standing under the bright lights, eyes burning from the sheer intensity as well as the fatigue that plagued him — not only from his demanding career, but visions of you keeping him awake, too.
When the director called for a short break, he let out a sigh of relief, shrugging a heavily bedazzled jacket from his tired shoulders, handing it to a nearby costume designer. Raking a hand through his tussled curls, he moved sluggishly to the sidelines of the set, grabbing a bottle of water, taking a slow, much needed, chug.
“Hey, you.”
He hated the way his brain automatically associated the sound of clicking shoes against the hard floor with you — his excitement dying slowly in his chest as he turned to meet his fiancée’s frame.
“Oh, hey.” He spoke, voice flat and uniform.
Maddie hesitated before speaking, eyebrows furrowed neatly into her forehead, “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, just tired.” He brushed off, shaking his head, taking a firm seat in a chair with ‘J.Jackson’ neatly embroidered into the back, with a sigh, “What you doing here anyways?”
“Glad to see you too.” She huffed sarcastically, “Thought I’d bring you lunch.”
She handed over a brown paper bag, heavy in his hand as he took it from her. Jaafar peeled it open, stomach rumbling as the sudden reminder to eat filled his now conscious brain.
“Oh.”
“What? What’s wrong?”
Jaafar peered up at her apprehensively, “I just—nothing it’s fine. Thank you.”
Maddie’s expression fell, “No. What’s wrong?”
He sighed, “I just don’t like turkey.”
“What?” She hissed, snatching the bag quickly, staring down at the bleak sandwich sat sadly inside, “You do.”
“I definitely don’t.” He breathed out a laugh, “You have it. I’ll grab something from the vending machine later.”
“You loved turkey when we first started dating.” She fired back, attempting to win back her pride.
“Yeah, 8 years ago.”
Maddie scoffed, “Fine. I’ll eat it. Go eat your shit vending machine food, and not the meal your fiancée worked so hard to make for you.”
Jaafar laughed in disbelief, “Maddie, it’s a sandwich. No offence, but I sincerely doubt you worked that hard.”
“What the hell, Jaafar? Honestly, I can’t with you sometimes, I just feel—“ “Jaafarrrr.”
Maddie noticed the way he perked up at the sound of your voice.
She rolled her eyes at the sight of you — a tiny, black mini skirt and a white blouse clad to your frame, kitten heels clicking against the floor as you sauntered in. You looked good without needing to try — something Jaafar always admired about you.
“Hey!” He beamed, rising from his chair, heading straight for you without a second thought, that dangerously beautiful smile adorning his face, “What are you doing here?”
The tone difference in the same question he’d asked to you and to Maddie was clear — something hard to miss.
He met you halfway across set, pulling you into a tight embrace, large arms wrapping around your frame, as you laced your arms around his neck. When you pulled away, Jaafar’s heart raced as you looked up at him — there were those pretty eyes.
“I figured you’d be hungry, so I brought you some lunch.” You admitted, a sickly sweet smile on your face as you handed him a gorgeously packaged box.
The smell hit him before he opened it — perfectly cooked steak, with freshly steamed greens and a side of mac n’ cheese. He groaned in delight.
“Your favourite.” You added.
If it wasn’t for the Jaafar blocking your view — you would’ve been met with the coldest, most seething gaze Maddie could muster.
She had been jealous of you from the start — she hated how much Jaafar loved being around you, how you got on like a house on fire, and proven just in that moment, how well you knew him.
“Oh, my God, this smells incredible.” Jaafar admitted, eyes flickering from your own to the food, “Thank you, princess.” He whispered, his voice low enough for you only to hear, “I wanna kiss you so badly right now.”
“Contain yourself, handsome.” You returned the hushed tone, “Later.”
Jaafar’s eyes darkened at the thrilling idea of getting to kiss you in secret later — visions of ravishing you filling his mind. A different kind of hunger fuelling in his heart.
“I already made him lunch.”
You heard her before you saw her — Maddie’s stern voice from behind Jaafar, gaze still sharp.
“Oh, man.” Your voice a teasing disappointment, “Sorry, J, I didn’t know. What a waste.” Your faux frown hit his face, heart twisting at the idea of your upset.
“No, no. It’s fine. Maddie’s gonna have the other one, right?”
“No, I sai—“
“Aw, thanks, Maddie!” You grinned, excitable voice hitting both of their ears once again, smiling so innocently that your intentions seemed so pure, “At least you can have your favourite now.”
Jaafar smiled down at you, grabbing the plastic fork laid neatly next to his glorious meal, before digging in, “Oh, wow, this is amazing.”
“Made it myself.” You admitted, “Worked very hard for you, Jaaf.”
“You’re so good to me.” Jaafar couldn’t contain the way he smiled as you giggled proudly, walking alongside, mouth full of the food you kindly prepared for him, back to where he once sat, “Whatcha’ got planned for today then?”
“Figured I’d sit around all day and watch you sweat.”
Maddie clenched her jaw at the way you both laughed loudly — a real, genuine laugh falling from Jaafar’s lips.
“Sounds like a riveting day.” He teased, resuming back in his seat.
You grinned, “Oh, definitely. A real thriller.”
“Nice play on word—“ “Jaafar, can we talk?”
Maddie’s harsh voice cut your laughter short — a sudden intense atmosphere blossoming. Jaafar’s smile fell quickly, eyes meeting hers for the first time since you arrived as if her presence wasn’t recognisable.
“What?”
“Alone.”
You bit back a grin — every argument they had brought Jaafar closer to you. Sick, but you loved it.
“I’ll go wait in your dressing room, J.”
To Maddie, she was silently thankful for your departure, however, completely missing your sensual undertone — alluding to the very man, she was subconsciously pushing further away from her and more towards you, that you’d be waiting for him in a quiet, secluded place where he could take you like he always did.
You parted from the tension quickly — sauntering away, hips swinging involuntarily, your back facing the upcoming argument you knew would arise.
Maddie didn’t miss the way Jaafar watched you walk away.
“Are you fucking serious?”
Her voice forced a foul expression onto Jaafar’s face, “What now?”
“Don’t take that tone with me, Jaafar.” Maddie snapped, finger pointing accusingly at him, “What is her problem?”
Jaafar feigned innocence quickly, “What do you mean? She just brought me lunch.”
“So did I, but you turned that down real fast. But, when she does it, it’s like she’s moved fucking mountains for you?” Maddie’s voice got icier with each sentence — and louder, forcing passing members of staff to side-eye the growing dispute.
“Lower your voice.” He hissed, eyes darting around, “You brought me something I didn’t like. Sorry if that offends you.”
“It’s not about that, Jaafar, it’s about how fucking weird you are around each other.” She snapped, voice refusing to lower, “Is there something I don’t know?”
Jaafar hid the way adrenaline thumped through his veins at the idea of her possibly finding out well. The thought of filling you to the brim with his thick cock suddenly polluting his brain — blood rushing between the very manhood he wanted to stuff you full of.
“Hello?” Maddie sassed, face an unyielding frosty expression.
“No, of course not. Stop asking me this.” Jaafar lied straight his teeth, a lie told so many times it felt natural now, “You always paint her out to be a horrible person, but she’s always so good to me. I don’t know why you can’t just be nice to her.”
“Because she’s all up on my fiancé every five seconds.”
“We’re just close.” Jaafar spoke, a statement not entirely untrue, “Just leave her alone for once.”
“Maybe tell her that.” Maddie spat, “Tell her to leave you alone.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“And there we go. Always at her defence.” She laughed in aggravation, “I’m your fiancé, y’know? It’s me you’re marrying.”
I wish it wasn’t.
The sentence hit his brain faster than he expected — a subconscious response to the argument and his secretive infatuation with you.
“I can’t deal with this right now.” Jaafar shot back, rising to his feet quickly, “Just go home, I’ll talk to you later.” He wasted no time walking down the hallway to his dressing room, following in your footsteps
“Jaafar, what? No.”
“Do not follow me.”
His voice, a usual calm and collected tone, was now snarled and bitter — a declaration of his frustration. He meant every word he said.
Jaafar stormed through the hall — feet stomping against the ground harder with each step. His anger bubbling over the edge as his chest heaved.
He slammed open the dressing room door — agitation oozing from him like no other. His eyes immediately landed on your relaxed frame, longing on the sofa that was pressed against the back of the room. You met his furious gaze.
“You okay, baby?”
Your sweet, calming voice flooded his frenzied brain — the nickname hitting him straight between the legs. He strode towards you quickly, hands immediately cradling your face as he smashed your lips together in a frantic kiss. You squeaked in surprise at the sudden connection — hands grasping at his tensed arms, before melting into his mouth.
“Need you. Now.” He mumbled against your lips, “Need to feel you.”
“Jaaf.” You whined, the feeling of his warm breath ghosting over your mouth had a familiar tingle radiating up your spine at the anticipation.
His lips worked magic against yours once more — moving with calculated precision as he pulled you to your feet. Tongues and teeth clashing as the passion intensified in your lip-locking — spit and swollen lips the only thing evident on your mouth as he moved his kisses down your neck. His hand, once pressed against the warm of your cheek, splayed across the nape of your neck, as he worked his way down your exposed chest.
“This gotta come off.” He muttered, flicking the buttons of your top open with ease, pulling it off your body and throwing it to the floor, your plump breasts filling his gaze.
His name fell from your mouth in a desperate plea as his lips attached to your bare tits — an erect nipple swirled around his tongue as he sucked. Your head thrust back — whines now filling the room as your back pressed into the makeup counter.
Jaafar pulled away from your breasts, lips colliding with your own once more as his eager hand travelled down your body — fingers nestling right where you needed him. His fingers slipped under your skirt, finding comfort in the dip of your slit, collecting your essence on his fingers from where you drooled through your panties.
“Jaafar, please.” You whimpered, bottom lip pulled between your teeth.
“Tell me how much you want it, pretty.” Jaafar whispered against you, face now flush against your own, “Tell me all about it, baby.”
His fingers rubbed tight, precise circles over your clothed clit, slick with your arousal, eliciting the sweetest noises from your pretty mouth — ones that hand Jaafar twitching in his slacks.
“Mm—Need you—Aah! so bad, J,” You cried, hands clutching at the thick of his bicep, “M’Wanna feel you so bad.”
“That’s it, sweetie, talk to me.” He coaxed, mouth suckling at the exposure of your neck, marking up your skin with the graze of his teeth.
Jaafar continued to work his fingers onto you — nimble digits rubbing the painful ache between your legs away as he relaxed you, arousing you ready for his length. His supple lips pressed soft, delicate kisses to any piece of your skin he was unveiled to — only adding to the gorgeous whines of pleasure that flooded his ears.
You leant over to press a sweet kiss to the sensitive skin beneath his ear, “Please, Jaaf, need to feel you.”
Jaafar didn’t give you time to change your mind.
He ripped his body from yours in a hurry — trembling hands from adrenaline and anger unbuckling his slacks, shoving them down his thighs along with his boxers. He hissed as the cold air hit the warmth of his cock, large hands instantaneously coming to wrap around the sheer length of him, pumping himself in relief.
“Turn around.”
You obeyed immediately — swiftly pressing your stomach to the counter, poking your half-exposed ass to him. He pushed your skirt further up your backside, now bunching at your hips.
“I’m not gonna be gentle tonight, baby.” He revealed, looking up at you from the mirror before both of you, revelling in the way you gasped as the fat of his cockend slid between the wetness of your folds, “Too fucking angry.”
“It’s okay, baby.” Your sweet, deliciously soft voice calmed his fury ever so slightly, the eyes that had him weak in the knees meeting his own in the reflection, “Use me. Take me. Just fuck me, please.”
The erotic admission had him pushing into you faster than he ever does — a loud cry falling past your lips as your vision blurred, hand slamming against the glass in a fist as he stretched you. Jaafar usually would take his time with you — work you open with his fingers, make you cum a few times before entering you. But not now. The flaming anger than burst inside of him had him selfish — not wanting to waste a single second before filling you to the brim.
And that he did. Your cunt throbbed around the size of him — girth and length forcing your slick little cunt open for him so briskly it had you biting on your lip so hard you tasted blood.
“That’s my good girl.” Jaafar growled out, a large hand stroking the plush of your hips that he gripped with the pad of his thumb, “Look so fuckin’ beautiful full of me.”
“Jaafar, please.” You mewled, tears brimming in your twinkling eyes.
“I know, I know, baby.” He reassured, dragging his cock out of you slowly, “Just feel me.”
He set a brutal pace — one that rendered you speechless from the first thrust. Only blabbering moans of undeniable pleasure releasing from your mouth as his tip kissed the smooth of your cervix, his cock rammed so deep you forget how to speak.
Jaafar grunted wildly behind you — his usual gentle love-making a distant memory as he fucked you as if you were a cock hungry slut. Something he could use for his own personal pleasure.
Right now, you were absolutely that and more.
“Fucking hate her.” He seethed behind you, grip tightening around your hips, before sliding up your back and taking your hair in a tight grasp, pulling you flush against his heaving chest, “She doesn’t do it like you do.”
The nefarious admission had your cunt clenching around him — knowing he was fucking you brainless whilst badmouthing his fiancée, who you also despised, had arousal coursing through your veins more so than before.
Jaafar noticed, “Oh, you naughty girl.” He breathed, breath hot against your ear, “You love fucking a taken man, huh?”
“Only you, Jaafar.”
Jaafar couldn’t suppress the whimper that fell from his lips, head falling into the crook of your neck, mumbling a curse under his breath at your huffed submission to him — cock throbbing inside you. Every drag of his dick had you whining underneath him — eyes rolling back as he repeatedly abused the sweet spot inside your gummy walls.
“Oh, that’s the spot, huh, princess?” He coaxed, “Look at me.” His large hand gripped your cheeks in a harsh grasp, before pushing two fingers into your agape mouth, “Suck.”
You willingly did as he pleased — suckling at the thick of his digits, the tang of your essence still lingering on his fingers flooding your tastebuds, whining at the taste of yourself. Your tongue swirled around him, eager to please, earning a hum of approval from the heaving man behind you, his pace never faltering.
“Jaafar.” Your voice muffled, mouth still stuffed full of him, a desperate, needy tone in your words, “Harder, p’wease.”
“Y’sound so fuckin’ sexy with your mouth full.” Jaafar groaned, eyes locked on the way tears slipped from your wide eyes, cascading down your face, a collecting of wetness of your tears and spit pooling at your chin.
Jaafar pulled out of you swiftly, ignoring the way you whined at the loss of fullness, before briskly shifting you to face him, pulling your body on top of the counter. He entered you once more, a blissful moan falling past your lips. His hands splayed against the fat of your hips against, pulling you down onto the hardness of his cock — bottom lip pulled between his teeth as you marched every thrust with an erotic whinge.
“‘Gonna cum, Jaaf.” You revealed, eyes glued to the milky white essence that pooled at the base of Jaafar’s cock as it disappeared repeatedly into your sex.
“Give it to me, princess.” He coaxed, fingers flying to your swollen clit, rubbing tight, fast circles around the aching nub, “Cum with me, baby.”
Your orgasm crept down your spine, settling in the low of your abdomen, the relief of a much needed climax arriving, a loud, demanding moan leaving your mouth as you chased your high at full speed. Jaafar wasn’t far behind you — pace now quickening as he too chased his orgasm, wanting nothing more right now to fill you to the brim with his fertile seed.
Slam!
“What the fuck?”
The door to the dressing room swung open — an aggressive bang that had both of your heads spinning towards the noise.
Now you were truly fucked.
Maddie stood in the door way, utterly mortified and shocked to her core at the sight of you — pussy stuffed full of her fiancée’s cock — sweat glistening off of both your bodies, chests heaving.
In a blacked-out state of intense arousal, your wicked mouth betrayed
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Jaafar.”
And he listened.
In his own personal lust, the sound of his distraught fiancée’s shouting, catching him in a comprising act fell on deaf ears, his hips, that had once stilled, resumed once more.
Your head fell back once more as his pace picked up — your orgasm climbing back up quicker now, pure thrill and adrenaline coursing through you like an addict snorting a fresh line.
Your nails dug into the plush of his bare ass, moans hitting an all time high as you clenched around him, completely unaffected by the furious woman in the doorway — climax washing over you harder than it ever had.
“Oh, Jaafar!” His name rang out through the room, alongside the squelch of your juices with each harsh thrust Jaafar fucked into you, a subconscious twist of the knife to the disbelieving Maddie watching in shock.
Jaafar groaned into your rising chest, cumming with a cry, his own orgasm hitting him as he doubled over, folding into you as he stuffed you full. The sensation of his spurting load filling you to the brim had your toes curling around his waist, a whine hitting his ringing ears. He didn’t stop — fucking his hot cum deeper into you, hips stuttering in overstimulation, the intense feeling of his electric orgasm still flooding through him.
In your mutual state of blind pleasure, you hadn’t noticed the absence of Maddie — the room deafening silent as you caught your breaths.
Jaafar softened inside you, face still pressed into the crook of your neck, eyes fluttered shut.
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pairing: jaafar jackson x reader
summary: when an oblivious y/n spends the evening chatting with a 'friend' who doesn't understand boundaries at an after-party, jaafar's quiet, polite exterior masks a dangerous, possessive jealousy. back at the hotel, he decides to remind her exactly who she belongs to.
warnings: +18 smut, jealous!jaafar, possessive sex, dom!jaafar, orgasm denial, edging, overstimulation, hair pulling, manhandling, mirror sex?, dirty talk, phone call during sex, public tension, reader is clueless to flirting at first
word count: 5,894 words (wtf)
a/n: I really got carried away, damn, sorry in advance. also, I tagged everyone who commented on the post idk lol
The heavy curtains of the after party ballroom did little to muffle the bass vibrating through the floorboards, but inside jaafar’s chest, a different kind of tension was drumming.
By all accounts, the awards ceremony had been a massive success. He’d handled the red carpet with his signature soft spoken grace, flashing that bright smile that instantly melted the cameras. He’d spent the evening holding your hand under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles over your knuckles. Jaafar was never one for public displays of affection, he was deeply private, fiercely protective, and preferred to keep the intimacy between you entirely behind closed doors. He didn't need to put on a show for the world to prove you were his.
Until tonight. Until Ryan.
Jaafar was currently caught in an interview with a prominent entertainment reporter, standing beneath the blinding glare of the media lights. His posture was perfectly elegant, his hands clasped casually in front of him, but his dark, liquid eyes were completely checked out of the conversation. He was looking past the reporter’s shoulder, across the VIP lounge, straight at you.
And straight at Ryan.
Ryan was one of your 'friends', a title Jaafar used in his head with a heavy dose of disdain. Ryan was the type of man who consistently overstepped, who treated the concept of personal boundaries like a loose suggestion. You, in all your sweet, trusting innocence, were entirely clueless. You genuinely believed Ryan was just an overly affectionate, hypersocial guy. You didn't see the calculation in his movements.
Jaafar did.
From across the room, Jaafar watched with an icy, detached focus as Ryan leaned in entirely too close, his shoulder nearly brushing yours as you stood by a high-top table. You were talking vividly, your eyes bright, gesturing with your hands as you recounted a story, completely unaware of how Ryan’s gaze was slowly tracking the movement of your lips. Then, Ryan reached out, his hand lingering just a fraction of an inch away from the bare skin of your waist, his fingers twitching as if he were just waiting for an invitation to touch you.
A dark, dangerous heat flared in the pit of Jaafar's stomach, but on the outside, his face remained a mask of polite composure.
'...and with the upcoming project, can fans expect something else?' the reporter asked, thrusting the microphone toward him.
Jaafar turned his head back to the reporter. He didn't lose his temper, he never did. Instead, he offered a smile. But it wasn't his real smile. It was a tight-lipped, flashing smirk that lasted exactly 0.2 seconds, never reaching his eyes, completely devoid of the warmth he usually radiated.
'We are focusing on finishing the project first, but we are definitely discussing more future projects,' jaafar said, his voice smooth, soft, and impeccably polite, yet clipped enough to signal the hard end of the conversation. He gave a small, formal nod. 'Thank you so much. excuse me.'
He didn't wait for a follow-up. He turned and began walking across the crowded VIP section. He didn't storm over, his stride was slow, deliberate and entirely graceful, but the sheer aura radiating off his broad shoulders was heavy enough to make people subtly step out of his way.
Before Ryan’s hand could actually make contact with your dress, a large, warm palm slid firmly around your waist.
The grip wasn't gentle. Jaafar’s long fingers dug deep into your hip, anchoring you against his side with an unyielding, possessive force that left absolutely no room for interpretation. You gasped softly at the suddenness of the touch, your head snapping up.
'Am I interrupting?' Jaafar cut in smoothly.
He looked directly at ryan. His face wore that same tight-lipped, fake smile. He didn't show his teeth. His lips were compressed into a thin, civil line, his dark eyes fixed on Ryan with a gaze so heavy it felt like a physical weight in the room.
Ryan straightened up, a bit flustered by the sudden shift in atmosphere, but he tried to play it cool. 'Hey, Jaafar. Man, congratulations on tonight. I was just telling Y/n you're a lucky guy.'
Jaafar’s grip on your waist tightened even further, his thumb pressing hard against your hip bone, pulling your thighs flush against his tailored trousers. It was a blatant, silent proclamation of ownership, a rare breach of his anti-pda rule that spoke volumes.
'Thank you, Ryan,' Jaafar replied, his voice incredibly soft, quiet, and civil. He didn't match Ryan's loud energy, he kept it entirely low, which somehow made it infinitely more terrifying. He let the silence hang for a beat, his unblinking stare raking over Ryan until the other man visibly swallowed. 'Um, we were actually just about to head back to the hotel. It's been a long night.'
'Oh, right, yeah, of course,' Ryan stammered, stepping back a full foot, completely intimidated by the quiet dominance rolling off the actor. 'Good seeing you guys.'
As Ryan disappeared into the crowd, you looked up at Jaafar, utterly bewildered. 'Jaafar, what was that? We didn't have to leave yet, and he was just trying to be nice...'
Jaafar didn't answer. He simply slid his hand down from your waist to wrap firmly around your wrist, guiding you toward the private exit with a quiet, unyielding momentum.
The ride back to the hotel in the luxury sedan was suffocatingly quiet.
The leather-scented interior was dim, lit only by the passing streetlights outside the tinted windows. Jaafar sat back against the seat, his long legs crossed, staring out into the night. His posture was relaxed, but the vein in his neck was prominent, and his jaw was set in a hard line.
'He was just telling me about this new restaurant that opened up downtown,' you said, trying to fill the heavy silence, your voice sounding small in the quiet car. 'He said we should all go sometime.'
'Mhm.' Jaafar didn't turn his head.
'And then he asked about your uncle's old studio, because he’s working on a new track...' You watched his profile, your heart doing a strange, nervous flutter. 'Jaafar? Are you okay? You're being really quiet.'
'Yeah.' A short, soft, clipped syllable.
'Are you tired?' You reached across the seat, placing your hand on his knee. The muscle beneath his suit pants was hard as stone, completely flexed.
'No.' He still didn't look at you, his eyes fixed on your hand.
You sighed, entirely clueless as to the depth of the storm brewing inside him. You figured he was just drained from the social battery required for an awards show.
When the car finally pulled up to the grand entrance of the luxury hotel, Jaafar stepped out, immediately reaching back inside to take your hand. He didn't rush, but his grip was firm and unbroken as he led you through the opulent lobby toward the elevators.
Once the doors slid shut, sealing the two of you inside the mirrored elevator alone, the silence became absolute.
You couldn't handle the distance anymore. You turned fully toward him, stepping into his personal space. You placed one hand flat against his chest, feeling the heavy, steady thudding of his heart beneath his dress shirt. Leaning up on your tiptoes, you pressed a soft, lingering kiss against his sharp jawline, remembering the rich blend of his cologne.
'You're so quiet,' you whispered against his skin, your lips brushing his jaw as you spoke. 'What's wrong?'
Jaafar didn't move. He didn't wrap his arms around you, nor did he push you away. He just stood there, letting you press against him, looking down at you with dark, bottomless eyes that held a simmer so hot it made your breath hitch. He let out a slow, heavy sigh just as the elevator let out a soft ding, announcing your arrival at your floor.
He took your hand again, his palm warm, and guided you down the carpeted hallway to the double doors of the suite. He slid the keycard, the lock clicked green, and he pushed the door open, letting you step inside ahead of him.
The door closed with a firm, quiet click behind you, locking out the rest of the world.
You kicked off your high heels with a sigh of relief, tossing your clutch onto the entryway table. 'Seriously, Jaafar, you have to talk to me. You've been acting so strange since the after party.' You reached behind your back, your fingers fumbling blindly with the hidden zipper of your tight dress, but the fabric was caught, and you couldn't get a proper angle. 'Ugh, can you help me with this? I can't reach it.'
Jaafar didn't immediately come over to help. Instead, he stood in the center of the dim bedroom, his eyes locked on yours as he began to unbutton his suit jacket. He slid it off his broad shoulders and draped it neatly over a chair, his gaze never breaking from yours.
You stood there, breathing a little faster, watching him undress. He began to unbutton his dark blue shirt, slowly revealing the smooth, toned expanse of his chest and abdomen.
'Jaafar, seriously,' you ranted, your voice turning into a slight, frustrated whine as you kept tugging at the stuck zipper, your rings catching on the fabric. 'You're completely ignoring me. Did I do something to upset you? Because if this is about Ryan, he’s just a friend, and you were being so cold to him—'
Jaafar took a slow step forward.
'He is not your friend,' Jaafar said, his voice dropping into a register so deep, so quiet, it resonated straight through your bones. He took another step, his bare chest catching the soft light filtering through the window. 'A friend does not look at what belongs to another man and try to calculate how to taste it.'
You froze, your hands dropping from your back as he took another step, narrowing the distance between you until you could feel the heat radiating from his body.
'You think I'm blind, baby?' Jaafar asked, his tone entirely calm, entirely devoid of chaotic rage, which made his absolute dominance so much heavier. He stopped right in front of you, towering over your now barefoot form. He raised one hand, his long fingers sliding slowly up the side of your neck, his thumb resting gently against your pulse point. He didn't squeeze, but the firm, warm pressure of his palm capping your throat made your breath completely catch. 'You think I like standing across a room, strapped to a camera, watching some low life eye-fucking what is mine? Watching you laugh at him, completely oblivious to how badly he wants to slide his hands down that dress?'
Your heart hammered violently against his palm. 'Jaafar... I didn't know...'
'I know you didn't,' he murmured, his dark eyes burning into yours, entirely consuming your vision. 'You're innocent. You're clueless. But he isn't. And I am sick of letting people think you are available.' His thumb stroked over your jawline, a soft touch laced with an iron command. 'You understand now?'
'Yes,' you whispered breathlessly, your knees turning to water under his stare.
'Turn around,' he ordered.
You obeyed instantly, your back turning to his bare chest. You felt the warmth of his body hovering just inches behind you. His large hands came up to your shoulders, his fingers tracing the edges of your dress before his knuckles brushed your bare spine. He found the zipper. With a slow, agonizingly deliberate movement, he pulled it down, the sound of the teeth parting loud in the quiet room.
The fabric loosened, slipping down your shoulders, leaving you standing in just your lace underwear.
'And now,' Jaafar breathed against the shell of your ear, his chest pressing lightly against your bare back, sending a violent shiver down your spine. 'I’m going to show you exactly who you belong to.'
He didn't rush. He didn't throw you onto the bed. Instead, he guided you over to the edge of the mattress, his hands sliding down your arms to grip your wrists. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you between his thighs, looking up at you. His eyes were dark, almost black, swallowed by a primitive hunger.
'You're so desperate already, aren't you?' he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, pulling it down slightly.
'Please, Jaafar,' you whimpered, your hands resting on his shoulders. 'I want you.'
'Yeah well, you have to wait,' he said softly, a dark, teasing smirk playing on his lips.
He slid his hands down to your chest, his long fingers tracing the lace of your bra before hooking his fingers into the material and pulling it down, exposing your breasts to the cool air. Your nipples hardened instantly. Jaafar leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive peak of your left breast, blowing a warm breath over it that made you arch your back with a soft cry.
But he didn't take it into his mouth. He just hovered there, his lips grazing your skin, torturing you with the proximity.
His hand slid down your stomach, moving beneath the waistband of your lace panties. You were completely soaked, a thick, slick heat coating his fingers the moment they made contact with your center. Jaafar let out a low, dark rumble of satisfaction in his throat.
'Look at that,' he rasped, his long fingers slowly parting your wet folds, his thumb finding your hypersensitive clit. He began to stroke you, but it wasn't the fast, relieving friction you were burning for. He moved with an excruciatingly slow, agonizing pace, barely putting any pressure on the bud, just dragging his thumb over it in lazy, teasing circles.
'Jaafar, please...harder,' you begged, your hips instinctively twitching against his hand, trying to force more friction.
'No,' he commanded softly, his hand flexing to hold your hips completely still, preventing you from moving against him. 'No moving. You take exactly what I give you.'
He slid one long finger inside your tight, wet depth. You let out a loud moan, your head dropping against his shoulder as his finger stretched you. He pushed it all the way in, letting you feel the length of it, before slowly pulling it out until only the tip remained, then sliding it back in.
'Ah, god, Jaafar...'
'You like that, baby? You want more than my fingers?' he asked, his voice a gravelly whisper.
'Yes, please, I want you, please, Jaafar, I'm begging you.'
'Mm-mm...not yet.'
He pulled his finger out completely. You let out a whimper of pure devastation, your body physically aching for the fullness. Before you could protest, Jaafar stood up, stripping off his remaining clothes with smooth, unhurried movements. Your eyes widened as his thick, heavy erection was revealed, twitching with his heartbeat, fully aroused and glistening at the tip.
He climbed onto the mattress, pulling you up with him. He laid you flat on your back in the center of the bed, spreading your legs wide. You expected him to finally drive himself inside you, but Jaafar was far from finished breaking your composure.
He knelt between your thighs, his large hands anchoring your wrists above your head. He leaned down, his chest hovering over yours, and began to use his fingers and his thumb to torment your lower lips again, while his length rubbed lazily against your wet entrance, painting himself in your moisture but never breaking the barrier.
The teasing was pure agony. Your body was entirely overstimulated, the scent of his skin, the dark warmth of his eyes staring down into yours, the heavy weight of his body keeping you pinned, and the absolute denial of the one thing that would bring you relief. Tears of frustration gathered in the corners of your eyes.
'Jaafar, please, I'm gonna lose my mind, 'you sobbed, your hips bucking upward in a desperate attempt to impale yourself on him.
Jaafar easily pinned your hips down with his forearms, his expression unbothered, completely in control. 'I told you to stay still. You don't get to come, and you don't get to be filled until I say so. Every single inch of this body is mine to control tonight.'
He kept up the torturous, slow strokes, pushing you right to the absolute precipice of a shattering orgasm. You felt the familiar tension tightening in your lower stomach, your inner walls beginning to twitch and clamp around nothing, signaling that you were about to break.
The moment he felt your body tremble on the edge of release, Jaafar abruptly yanked his hands away from you entirely, stepping back onto his knees.
The sudden, violent loss of contact sent a shockwave of frustration through your nervous system. You let out a loud, ruined wail, your head thrashing against the pillows. 'No! No! why? Please, let me come, I need to come!'
'I already told you, you don't come until I tell you to,' he growled, his soft spoken demeanor completely gone, replaced by a raw, primal dominance that made your core throb. 'You hold it in. You stay right on the edge for me.'
He grabbed your ankles, dragging your body down the mattress until your ass was right at the edge of the bed. He stood on the floor, pulling your legs up and draping them over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely, leaving you utterly vulnerable under the dim lights of the penthouse.
He stared down at your swollen, soaking entrance, his jaw clenching as his own restraint began to thin. 'Who do you belong to?'
'You. I belong to you, Jaafar, just you.'
A dark, satisfied growl tore from his throat. ’Mhm, that’s right.'
He gripped your hips with an iron, bruising force, aligned his thick length with your aching core, and with one heavy, unyielding thrust, he buried himself inside you to the absolute hilt.
A high-pitched, breathless scream tore from your lungs as the sudden, immense fullness stretched your tight walls to their absolute limit. He bottomed out against your cervix on the very first push, the raw sensation so intense your vision blurred.
Jaafar didn't give you a second to adjust. He began to pound into you, his thrusts hard, deep, and completely unmerciful. He was riding out every ounce of the jealousy that had simmered in his veins all evening, his hips slamming against your flesh with a loud, rhythmic, wet slapping sound that echoed off the high ceilings of the suite.
’Nghh, Jaafar! so deep, oh my god!' you cried out, your body being pushed up the mattress with every powerful stroke, only for his hands to yank your hips back down onto his length.
'It's exactly how deep it needs to be,' he panted, his breath hot and ragged against you as he continued to hammer into you from the edge of the bed. 'I want you to feel every single inch of me. I want you to remember this tomorrow when people look at you.'
The angle was hitting your g-spot with devastating accuracy, the friction inside you creating a white hot heat that threatened to consume you. You were entirely overloaded, the heavy, musk-and-wood scent of his sweat, the sound of his deep, guttural groans, the relentless stretching inside you, and the sheer speed of his movements. You were weeping from the intensity, your body completely at his mercy.
Right in the middle of his frantic, heavy pounding, a sudden, sharp ringing broke through the heavy atmosphere of the room.
It was your phone, sitting on the nightstand just a few feet away. The screen illuminated the dim room, flashing a name that made Jaafar’s entire body freeze.
Ryan.
Jaafar looked at the screen, his chest heaving as he stared at the name. A dark, terrifying smirk slowly spread across his face, his eyes turning entirely black. He didn't pull out of you, he stayed buried deep inside your burning heat, holding himself perfectly still as your walls twitched desperately around him.
He reached over, his long arm easily grabbing the phone from the nightstand. He brought it over, holding the flashing screen in front of your tear-stained face.
'Huh...look at that,' Jaafar whispered, his voice a low, lethal purr against your ear. 'Your friend is calling. He probably wants to make sure you got home safe.'
'Jaafar, no... don't...' you whimpered, shaking your head.
'Answer it,' Jaafar ordered, his tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation. 'Pick it up, baby. Pick it up while I'm fucking you.' He slid his thumb across the screen, hitting accept and pressed the speakerphone button before placing the device on the pillow right next to your head.
Before you could even process the command, Jaafar slammed his hips forward, driving into you with a brutal, sudden force that made your eyes widen.
'H-hello?' you choked out, your voice trembling violently as you tried to grip the sheets to keep from screaming.
'Hey, Y/N!' Ryan’s voice came through the speaker, loud and clear, completely oblivious. 'Hey, sorry to call so late, I wanted to make sure everything was cool and see if you wanted to grab that lunch tomorrow like we talked about—'
Jaafar let out a low groan, deliberately shifting his angle, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a heavy, wet thud that bottomed out completely.
'Ah!' you gasped, clapping your hand over your mouth, your hips bucking off the bed. The wet, squelching sounds of his length sliding in and out of your soaked core were incredibly loud in the quiet room.
'Y/N? You there?' Ryan asked, sounding confused over the line.
Jaafar didn't stop. He accelerated, his thrusts becoming faster, harder, his muscles flexing as he deliberately pounded into you with a relentless, rhythmic aggression. He was staring directly into your eyes, watching you struggle, a dominant, possessive heat burning in his gaze.
'Yeah...Sorry, I'm—I'm here,' you whimpered, your voice shaking as a wave of overstimulation threatened to break you. You bit your lower lip so hard it nearly bled, trying to suppress the moans that were clawing their way up your throat. 'Just...unpacking...'
Jaafar leaned down, his lips brushing your ear as he kept up the brutal pace, his hips slapping against yours. 'Tell him how good it feels, baby,' he whispered wickedly, his voice barely a breath, but his actions spoke loud enough. He hit your spot three times in rapid succession.
'Oh god—' you slipped, a loud, wet moan escaping your lips before you could stop it. The sound of your slick walls tightly gripping his length was unmistakable through the microphone.
'Uh, Y/N? Are you okay?,' Ryan said, his tone shifting, a hint of realization dawning on him.
'I have to go, Ryan,' you sobbed out, unable to hold back the tears as Jaafar ruthlessly drove you toward the edge. 'Goodnight—'
You slammed your finger onto the red button on the screen, cutting the call off.
The phone call cut off, the red end-call button disappearing into the black screen of the device, leaving only the sound of your frantic, heavy breathing echoing against the high ceilings.
But Jaafar wasn't done with you. The adrenaline of the call, the lingering irritation from Ryan’s boundary-crossing presence, and the sheer heat of your tight, soaking walls had his blood boiling. He pulled out of you with a heavy, wet slide that made you gasp in protest, your body instantly feeling cold and empty without him.
Before you could even roll over, his hands were on you again. He grabbed your waist, flipping you effortlessly onto your hands and knees in the center of the large bed.
Jaafar climbed over you from behind, his heavy, solid weight anchoring you down against the mattress. He didn't wait. He lined himself up with your slick entrance and drove his thick length back inside you with one ruthless, unyielding plunge that bottomed out completely, hitting your cervix with a force that made you let out a high-pitched cry.
He began to move with a frantic, desperate speed, his hips slamming against your ass with a loud, rhythmic slapping sound that filled the quiet bedroom. He leaned down over your back, his broad chest pressing yours flat into the pillows. He reached one large hand forward, his long fingers tangling firmly into the roots of your hair, pulling your head back. At the same time, his other hand slid around to wrap securely around the front of your neck, his palm warm and unyielding against your skin, forcing you to look up and over your shoulder at him.
'Look at me,' he growled, his voice thick with a dark, heavy lust as he continued to hammer into you from behind. His eyes were completely black in the shadows, staring directly into yours with a terrifying intensity. 'Look at me while I'm breaking you open. You think anyone else can touch you like this? You think anyone else gets to hear you make these sounds?'
'N-no, Jaafar... nghh! No one... just you,' you sobbed out, your body shaking violently from the forced angle, your hips bucking back against his thighs in a desperate attempt to find relief from the overwhelming fullness.
'Damn right,' he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to keep your head tilted toward him, his thrusts growing even deeper, stretching you to your absolute limit. 'Every single piece of you belongs to me. I want you to remember the weight of my hands on your skin the next time a man tries to step into your space, you hear me?'
He let go of your hair and your neck, the sudden freedom making your head drop into the pillows as he delivered three more devastatingly deep, heavy strokes. But before the pressure could peak, he pulled out of you again, the abrupt loss of friction making you let out a loud, ruined wail of frustration.
'Jaafar, please! Don't stop, please don't stop...' you begged, your hands clawing at the mattress sheets.
A sharp smack echoed through the room as Jaafar’s large hand came down hard on your ass, the sting blooming hot across your skin. You cried out, clenching around him.
'Get up,' he panted, his breath ragged and hot against your bare shoulder.
He didn't give you a choice. He grabbed your wrists, pulling you off the bed entirely. Your bare feet hit the plush carpet, your knees buckling slightly from the sheer overstimulation, but Jaafar held you steady. He guided you across the dark penthouse suite toward the massive, dark wood desk where a large, ornate silver mirror hung on the wall, reflecting the dim city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
He pushed you forward gently until your stomach was pressed flat against the cool, polished wood of the desk. He bent you over, your hands gripping the edges of the desk for support, your ass pushed back and elevated.
Jaafar stepped up behind you, his bare chest pressing flush against your spine. In the reflection of the big mirror, you could see everything. the flush of your skin, the sweat glistening on his broad shoulders, and the thick, heavy length of his erection pressing against your wet thighs.
He looked up, his dark eyes locking onto your reflection in the glass. He reached down, parting your thighs with his knee, and with one heavy, smooth thrust, he buried himself inside you from behind, the angle tilting your pelvis perfectly to hit your g-spot with absolute, brutal precision.
You let out a loud, breathless scream, your head tossing back as the visual and the physical sensation combined into a massive wave of overload.
'Look,' Jaafar commanded, his voice a low, dirty purr against your ear as he began to pound into you, his hips driving hard against you, shaking the heavy desk beneath your hands. 'Open your eyes and look at the mirror, baby.'
You forced your eyes open, looking through a blur of tears at the reflection. You watched the way his well-defined torso flexed with every deep stroke, the way his large hands came up to grip your hips, his thumbs digging into the dimples of your lower back to anchor you as he ruthlessly used your body.
'Look who makes you feel this good,' Jaafar growled, his jaw clenching as he accelerated the pace, his thrusts becoming faster, louder, the wet, squelching sounds of your bodies joining filling the air. 'Look who makes you cum every single night. Who is it, hm? Who? Tell me, baby, who?'
'You... it's you, Jaafar,' you cried out, your voice breaking as the friction inside you reached a white-hot temperature. Your knuckles turned white where you gripped the desk, your reflection showing your mouth parted in a continuous, breathless moan. 'Only you, baby, please... oh god, it's you.'
'Say it louder,' he muttered, his head burying into the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at your shoulder blade while his lower body maintained the brutal, relentless rhythm. 'Tell me who owns you.'
'You do... ah! Jaafar, please, I'm gonna break, I can't hold it anymore!'
The visual of him completely dominating you in the glass, his dark eyes fixed on your ruined expression, was the final straw. Your inner muscles began to contract violently around him in a tight, clamping grip, signaling the onset of a massive climax.
But Jaafar wanted you back on the bed for the finish. He pulled out of you with a wet, heavy slide, ignoring your loud whimper of protest, and dragged your shaking body back to the mattress. He laid you flat on your back, pulling your legs up over his broad shoulders, opening you up completely to his deep, unmerciful thrusts once again. Every time his hips slammed against yours, it sent a shockwave straight to your core, driving you further into that state of helpless overstimulation.
He leaned over you, his knuckles white where they gripped the headboard for leverage, his dark curls damp with sweat. He looked down at you, his eyes entirely black, dilated with a heavy, primal lust.
'Look at how stretched open you are for me,' he rasped, his voice a low, dirty growl that vibrated against your skin. 'You like being filled up like this, don't you? Look at me, baby. Tell me how it feels to have my dick taking up every single inch of you.'
'Jaafar, please... it's so good,' you whined, your head tossing from side to side on the pillows.
Jaafar looked down at your parted, wet lips, his dark eyes burning. 'Oh, how much I love you, baby…drives me insane,' he rasped, voice thick with raw emotion and lust.
He didn’t lean down right away. Instead, he kept the torturous rhythm, pulling almost entirely out until only the swollen head of his cock teased your entrance, then plunging back in with a heavy, deliberate thrust that made your back arch off the bed.
The slow withdrawal and sudden deep stretch were driving you crazy. You looked up at his face, lips parted, sharp jaw clenched, curls damp with sweat. The overwhelming need to feel closer to him broke through.
'I wanna kiss you, baby. Please, kiss me,' you begged, voice trembling.
Jaafar looked down at your parted, wet lips, a dark, incredibly wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. He didn't lean down. Instead, he accelerated his pace, his thrusts becoming harder, faster, his hips slapping against your thighs with a ruthless rhythm.
'No,' he whispered, his voice a gravelly, torturous tease. 'You don't get to kiss me yet.'
'Jaafar, please—'
'I love how needy you sound when I starve you,' he muttered, his thumb reaching down to ruthlessly grind against your clit while he kept pounding into you, deliberately pushing you past your limit. 'Beg for it. Tell me how bad you need my mouth on yours while I'm stretching you out.'
'Please, baby, please kiss me, I need you, I need to taste you,' you sobbed, completely broken down by the overstimulation, your inner walls clamping around his thick length in desperate, erratic waves.
Hearing your voice crack, feeling the frantic, tight squeezing of your core, finally shattered the last of his restraint.
Jaafar let out a low, guttural growl, his broad chest collapsing down against yours, his heavy weight pinning you flat into the mattress. He grabbed your jaw with his large hand, his fingers digging firmly into your cheeks to force your mouth wide open, and he slammed his lips down against yours.
It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was deep, possessive, and incredibly nasty.
His tongue surged into your mouth, claiming you with the same fierce, unyielding aggression as his hips. He tasted like the rich bourbon from earlier and pure, raw heat, his tongue tangling with yours in a wet, frantic rhythm that matched the brutal pace of his lower body. He was pounding into you with a wild, unbridled ferocity now, his long fingers shifting from your jaw to tangle in your hair, holding your head completely still so you had to take every single bit of the kiss.
The sensory overload was absolute. You couldn't breathe, your mouth flooded with his taste, your ears filled with the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing and the wet, loud squelching of your bodies joining.
The friction inside you reached a fever pitch, your G-spot being hit with every single desperate, deep thrust. Your body tightened, your vision going entirely white as a massive, shattering orgasm tore through your nervous system, your throat letting out a muffled, choked scream straight into his mouth.
The violent, pulsing contractions of your release completely broke Jaafar. He let out a dark, muffled roar against your lips, his tongue taking one last, deep stroke of your mouth as he drove himself into you to the absolute hilt. He locked his hips flush against yours, his body trembling violently as he came, filling your tight, twitching core with thick, burning jets of his release.
He didn't break the kiss until both of your breathings completely ran out, finally pulling his lips back with a wet, heavy sigh, leaving you entirely spent, ruined, and completely his.
The silence returned to the penthouse, broken only by the sound of your combined, ragged breaths.
Slowly, gently, Jaafar pulled his legs down, climbing fully onto the bed and collapsing beside you. The dominant, terrifying aura completely evaporated, leaving behind the gentle, soft-spoken man you knew—but the possessiveness remained. He reached out, his large, warm hand sliding around your waist, his fingers curling into your hip in the exact same spot he had gripped at the party.
He pulled your trembling, spent body tight against his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head, his voice returning to that quiet, sweet rumble.
'Mine,' he whispered into your hair, his grip tightening just a fraction. 'Don't ever make me remind you again.'
summary: after finding the nude pictures your babysitter leaves your husband, you can't help but start ignoring him. jaafar doesn't take it so lightly.
disclaimer: does include smut. and yes, this one of my previous works but I feel like jaafar fits??? just wanna see if this encourages me to get back into writing.
as soon as jaafar steps back in the kitchen, you plop yourself on the counter. occasionally shoving grapes in your mouth as you watched the man set his keys down, “did she go in safely?” you ask.
“yeah, her parents were waiting for her.” he said, smiling as he manages to steal a grape from you. “i asked her if she could babysit this saturday. jermajesty keeps pestering me about the baby shower.” he doesn’t notice how you’re staring at him.
for the past few weeks, jaafar and you have decided to go on weekly dates again. too scared to let yourself grow apart. but obviously with two kids running around the house; it was impossible.
so you hired a babysitter. she was great! but then you began noticing the looks the young eighteen year old began giving your husband. then the small touches. but you couldn’t blame her, he was gorgeous. sweet. smart.
but he was yours. you didn’t sweat it at first but jaafar's oblivion to the situation was frustrating to say the least. “she has a crush on you.” you said, turning back to look down at the pile of grapes that was just growing smaller and smaller.
“who does?” jaafar chuckles, closing the fridge doors and giving you his full attention. “how about a drink? the kids are sleeping. you know what that means.” he sends you a playful wink but tilts his head as soon as he notices your serious face.
“daisy. don’t tell me you don’t notice, babe.” you finally smile, shaking your head. “but i don’t blame her. look at you.” you do end up taking the beer can out of his hand. opening it and letting out a sigh of content as you take in the moment. there was nothing you loved more than just spending time with him.
“i think you’re overthinking. i’m sure you know i’m all yours regardless.” his smile doesn’t falter, not for a second as he walks up to you. removing your heels carefully before stepping in between your legs.
“i’m not worried.” you wrap your arms around his neck like they belong there. it was moments like these that made you realize how routinely your nights had become. you didn't care. you still couldn't grow used to his hands on your skin. you could never grow bored of him.
“then we can move on, right? i plan to keep you busy tonight..” his hands are always pulling down the zipper from the back of your dress. "i'm still holding you to your promise of baby number three." he reminds, smiling as he throws you over his shoulder.
-
two months later, you come home to find daisy playing with the kids in the living room. you motion for her not to tell the kids about your arrival, wanting to get a quick shower in before they started bombarding you with questions and all sorts of affection.
all she does is send a nod your way before turning back to the two small boys in front of her.
you are trying your best to be quiet as you look for something comfortable to drown in for the rest of the day. deciding to go for the usual; one of jaafar's shirts. “looks better on me anyway...” you smile to yourself as you tug the shirt out of his drawer. your hands coming to a stop when you spot the white envelope that had once hid beneath it.
and just like you've lost every other battle you had with curiosity, you give in. “i’m sure he won’t mind.” you convince yourself, eyeing the way his name was written on the front. it was such beautiful handwriting, and obviously not his.
you don't have any thoughts as you tear the side off and slip your fingers in. tugging the stacks of thick glossy paper out before letting out an involuntary gasp. your wide eyes flicker between each one as you flip through them.
"what the fuck.” had she put these in here? how could she? why would she?
the knock on your bedroom door breaks you away from your racing thoughts. hearing his voice on the other side of the door, “baby, open up.” you don’t hesitate to shove the pictures under your mattress.
running a hand through your hair that felt messy as you stand up with your legs nearly giving out under you. the sinking feeling in your belly was only growing worse as you began to open the door for him.
“i knew i’d find you in here.” he smiles, closing the door behind him and pulling you close by your waist. “i’ve got two gremlins crying for their mommy down there.” he is so unaware that it almost makes you feel bad for him.
letting out an stifled laugh as you try to ignore the tightening in your throat. it takes you a couple more seconds to decide to ultimately let it go. holding your breath as you let him kiss on your neck that suddenly felt all too tender, “i’m currently hiding. mommy needs a bath.”
“luckily, daddy does too.” and once again, you are over your husband’s shoulder.
-
it has only been a few days since you’ve found the pictures but you can’t seem to stop looking at them. how could she look you in the eyes when she’d done this minutes before?
“what’s that?” his voice suddenly sounds so close behind you. feeling the mattress sink behind you as he scoots closer. his arm sliding over your side isn't enough to make you feel better.
you hold your breath as you shove the pictures in your drawer again, “nothing. go back to sleep, j.” your voice is so faint, like you don't trust yourself to speak any louder.
“i don’t think so.” it takes seconds for jaafar to be sitting up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “you’ve been staring at something for the past hour. it’s not nothing, baby.” he looks more awake now as he turns on his own lamp on his nightstand.
you sigh as you sit up slowly, deciding that maybe he deserved to know. hands tugging at your shirt as he shifts around until he is sitting across from you. “i don’t know if i should tell you.” you don't have it in you to lie anymore.
“that only makes me more curious.” he says, shaking his head with a small laugh. but it quickly dies down when he notices how upset you look, “come on, what is it? you can tell me, baby. you know that.” his hand comes up to move the strands of hair out of your face. his fingertips feel warm, you take notice.
for the first time, talking to him feels hard. you don't know how to say it. how to speak without sounding jealous or angry. she was so young. of course, you were angry.
but jaafar only has so much patience, sighing before holding onto one of your hands. only then opening the drawer that belonged to you and reaching for the pile of paper that rests on top. he doesn't frantically flip through them like you.
instead he stares at the one that lays under his thumb for a couple of seconds. not saying a word or making a sound as he looks back up at you. "is this what's bothering you?"
and maybe it is the fact that he looks unfazed that truly bothers you. “does it not bother you?” the tone that comes along with the question surprises you. you know its not his fault. you do.
“no, thats not it.” he says, shaking his head before setting the pictures aside. “you know better than to let things like this bother you. and you know better than to use that tone." his calm expression is what upsets you most. his unwavering tone. his lack of worry. all of it.
“just because i’m your wife doesn’t mean i can’t be jealous or upset. what would you do if a guy sent me his nude pictures? hmm? came into my bedroom and hid them just for me?” you can tell jaafar's patience is running low but you can't bring yourself to care.
“you can be jealous all you want. but don’t talk to me like it’s my fault. i know she likes me, i do. but not once have i ever done anything about it.” he stands up, starting to make his way into the bathroom to try and regulate himself. he didn't want this to be a fight, it didn't have to be.
“you should have. did she finally have to put her hands on you for you to say something?” you walk right past him as you head downstairs. mumbling something about him being an idiot.
and for the first time, jaafar doesn’t go trailing behind you.
-
six days? yeah, it has been six days since you and jaafar have last spoken a sentence to each other. a few words were exchanged here and there but that was about it. neither of you were going to apologize.
“mommy.” you feel the tugging at your shirt, giving the boy a small nod of acknowledgment as you dry off your hands. “when is daisy coming?” your throat suddenly feels dry and tight at the mention of the girl meddling between your marriage.
“she’s not coming today, honey. i'm sorry.” you wished you could at least sound sincere. hearing the front door close and looking up as jaafar stepped into the kitchen. silently watching as he set everything on the kitchen counter before rolling up his sleeves.
he doesn't even acknowledge you as he opens his arms for the small boy to jump into. letting out a small laugh that annoyingly still makes your stomach swirl, “you get heavier every time i carry you.”
you turn away, trying to be quiet as you placed the dishes back in their corresponding place. it was growing harder and harder to pretend like this wasn't killing you. keeping your eyes on the porcelain plate until you hear her name again.
“daisy won’t be coming anymore, buddy. she’s busy.” you wonder if he figured hearing those words would make you happy. you couldn't help but let out a scoff. closing the cabinet before turning around.
“yeah, she’s pretty busy taking more pictures for daddy.” you’re smiling as you fix the young boy’s hair. taking him out of jaafar's arms. giving him a single glare before pushing past him to finally put the boy to bed.
-
“are you fucking serious?” is the first thing you hear when you step into your shared bedroom. rolling your eyes as you close the door behind you. "you're being ridiculous. he doesn't have to know what is going on."
for a split moment, you realize how childish you were behaving. taking off your shirt as you walk past him. it was only temporary though. feeling the disgust sink into your lower stomach again as you ruffle through your closet for something to sleep in.
the shaky sigh that leaves jaafar's mouth makes you tense up where you stood. suddenly becoming aware of his presence behind you as you let go of the cotton shirt. “don’t make me do this, baby. i don’t wanna have to force your words out.” his breath fans your shoulder.
it felt embarrassing. the way his words immediately had you clenching around nothing. shaking your head as you turned and pushed him aside with a push of your palm, “move.” before you could get too far you feel the tug on a handful of your hair.
your breath hitching as you stood still in your spot, looking up at him as he tilts your head. "j, stop." your voice barely makes it out into a whisper. you could tell that neither you or him believed for a second that you wanted it to stop.
“now you wanna talk?” he can't help but laugh. looking down at you as he shakes his head. “fine, we’re doing it my way.” within seconds, your back is pressed back onto the soft mattress you share. lips parting as your hands fell onto the sheets under you.
eyes watching as he pulled down your jeans along with the pink thong in one swift motion. gulping as you fight the urge to close your legs. "j, I think-" before you could finish, he's taking a seat next to you.
thumbs digging into your hips as he pulls you over his lap. you were convinced that was going to bruise. unable to let out any other sounds besides a pant as you cheek pressed against the linen. “you better count or I'll double it.”
for a moment, you feel determined. forcing your eyes to meet his as the fist of sheets on your hands squeezed harder. but the second his large hand landed on your ass, that determination began to fade. whining at this stinging, “fuck you.”
“you’re not going to count? alright.” his free hand coming to your face and taking a hold of your jaw. he wanted you to look at him. maybe you'd notice how much he was liking this. “twenty it is then.”
that makes you speak, “no, j. please...” you feel ashamed at how easy it was for him to make you weak. make you give in. letting out a shaky breath when you feel his hand rubbing the spot he'd slapped before. soothing the warm skin before his hand came down on it again.
“it’s too late. i don’t negotiate.” and jaafar stays true to his word. he doesn't let you go. not when your skin is bright red and aching. not when you're crying and begging. "keep counting." he reminds the second your voice lags behind a cry.
“eighteen! babe, please.” the broken sound behind the please makes him feel bad, you can tell. feeling his eyes on you as your bury your face into his palm. “i won’t talk back anymore, i promise.” you manage to look up at him through the tears in your eyes.
“you should’ve listened when i told you to.” and his hand comes down once again. hearing the loud sob that escaped your lips. “one more, baby. come on, i know you can take it.” his pupils dilating as he takes in the trembling against his lap. "nineteen!"
your open fluttering back open when you feel his hands tearing your legs apart. “j, please!” the last slap makes you choke out a moan. the stinging and soft friction across your slit. "t-twenty! that's twenty..."
"good girl." the praise is so quiet that you barely catch it under the sound of your panting. feeling his gaze burning into your back as he moves you onto the mattress. turning you over with a single push on the inside of your thigh until you laid flush on your back.
he doesn't let you catch your breath properly. already standing in front of you and undoing his pants and belt. watching the way your hips were lightly starting to buck with need. "you don't deserve this, you know that?" he lowers the fabric of his boxers and pants just enough for his dick to be free.
"i know." you sniffle as struggle to speak through the soft sobs that were starting calm down. before you could mutter an apology that wouldn't help, he lines himself up with you.
"god, baby. you sound pathetic." the sound of his voice trails off towards the end as he pushes inside you with a single stroke. the wet sound that your pussy makes as you stretch around him nearly makes him groan. his eyes trailing up your body as your thighs tremble against his sides for a moment.
everything about you makes him realize that you don't deserve this. the way your back arches. the way your eyes roll back. the way your lips are parted enough to let drool drip down the side of your face. god, you really didn't.
"all i have to do for you to listen is fuck you like this?” he laughs, his hips starting to meet with yours repeatedly. hearing the loud echoing of the soft skin slapping against each other filling the room on tops of all your sweet sounds.
“mhm!” your hands already making their way to try and touch him. only letting out soft whine when his hand takes a hold of your wrists in one and brings them over your head. "jaafar, please. let me touch you..." you sound breathless. tired. used up. and he's barely started.
"no, you're going to take what i give you. aren't you?" he can't bring himself to close his eyes. not when he could see your expression so perfectly. the way that whenever he hit that soft spongy spot inside you, you bit down on your lip to be quiet. the way your mascara that claimed to be waterproof was trailing down your temples.
"you’re taking me so well, baby. should i show daisy how good you are? hmm?” he lets out an exhale through his nose as his hips grow relentless. the sound that comes from you reminds him that it isn't just the two of you home.
the hold on your hip grows tighter when your walls squeeze him tighter, "fuck, you like the idea that much? so dirty, baby. so fucking tight." his bottom lip finds its way beneath his death as he starts to fuck you harder. deeper.
when you hear that, all you want to do is please him. take him. “please, baby. fuck, feels so good!" your nails dig into his hand as you try to find a way to cope with the stimulation between your legs.
you can tell jaafar notices the shift in your behavior, his hips resuming before he flips you over onto all fours. the drool that had pooled in the corner of you slips starting to drip down onto the sheets. before you could stabilize yourself, he's pushing himself inside you wordlessly.
gasping as the force jolts your forward and your legs began to feel like jelly. "baby, please." you don't know how much more of this you can take. you don't remember the last time he'd fucked you like this. to the point where it hurt so bad it felt good.
"you almost had me feeling bad for you." for a moment his words confuse you, tilting your head back to look at him through your blurry vision. "but i think you wanted this all along. didn't you?" he keeps talking to you, voice hitching whenever your pussy clenched around him. "you love this. don't you? tell me."
“l-love it. i love it so much, babe.” despite the struggle it was to form coherent sentences at this point, you can't bring yourself to risk losing the ecstasy between your legs. "don't stop, j. please give it to me. n-need you to fill me so f-fucking bad."
“so fucking needy." he groans as he takes a handful of hair, tugging you up until his chest was pressed against your back. "open up." he tilts your head until your mouth is inches from his.
you reach back until you feel his thighs for stability, choked moans ripping from your chest. forcing yourself to open your eyes as you stick your tongue out for him. seeing the way the corner of his lips lift faintly before he spits right in your mouth. the new warmth making you hum as you swallow.
his hips snapping against yours continuously as grew amused. watching the way your tits bounced with each thrust. letting go of your hair and hip to knead them in his big hands. holding back a smile when he heard you hum softly, “such a cockslut, baby. you just love my dick so much, don’t you? you can’t live without it.”
you're incoherent at this point. watching as the whites of your eyes appeared and your mouth hung open. “here. touch me here.” you pant out, guiding his hand down to your pulsing clit. hoping he wouldn’t put up a fight.
“only because you've been so good.” he chuckled against your ear as one of his hands made his way down your body. his fingers finding your bundle of nerves within seconds. starting to rub firm circles on you with a smile. god, you were so easy.
your body nearly falls forward and he takes it upon himself to hold you harder against him. your desperate sounds growing louder and louder, “be quiet before you wake up the kids.”
“I can’t.” your back is arching off his chest. squirming and trying to get away from him, “j, t-too much!" your hand finding its way to his and trying to push his own away.
“you’re so-always have to do everything for you.” jaafar looks furious, even now you can't listen? tilting your head towards his own again before learning down to kiss you. hard. sloppy. your own drool transferring onto his own chin.
“i’m so close. so fucking close.” you wonder if he can even understand you against his lips. whether he did or not, that didn't matter. not when your pussy was trying to milk him dry inside of you. groaning into your mouth as his fingers between your legs began to rub tighter circles.
you can tell when jaafar starts getting close. the way he suddenly grows more vocal. his pace grows uneven. desperate. pulling away to let out a deep sigh when your pussy squeezes him so tight, he swore he saw white, “don’t stop, baby. you’re doing so good. you'll wait for me, won't you?"
you take this moment to look at his expression. blinking away the tears that were built up in your eyes as you held out a little longer for him. “inside-cum inside me, jaafar. don’t you wanna fill me up? give me a baby?” you know how much jaafar loves when you tell him you want a baby. how much he loves when you beg him to cum inside you.
“fuck.” your words suddenly make his thrusts quicker, like now he's desperate to give you whatever you ask for. . “gonna milk this pussy so i can fill you up to the brim. that’s what you want? a baby so she knows i fucked you good? so she knows I'm all yours?"
“y-yes, please. come on, baby.” your voice is so shaky and you’re on the verge of passing out but you don’t stop begging him. all you can think about is him fucking you full. and if you were lucky, you'd even get to see the look on her face when she saw you pregnant.
the thought sends you over the edge, legs shaking violently the moment your orgasm comes over you. letting out a cry as your hands find your way to his thighs again, digging your nails into the skin. it was all becoming too much.
you can feel his thrusts growing sloppy a few seconds before warm ropes of cum are coating your soft insides. crying at the overstimulation, “give it all to me, j. please…” you look so pretty as you look up at him through your glossy eyes.
jaafar pants as his thrusts become soft and slow, diligently milking himself inside you. “there you go, baby. that’s what you wanted?” he asks. leaning down to press his lips against yours as he began to lay you down slowly. slipping himself out of you with a soft exhale before turning you over.
taking a moment to pull away so he could look at the way his cum dripped out of you. a soft smile tugging at his lips. his fingers pushing what he could inside of you as he watched you struggle to keep them open. he couldn't help but find you cute. chuckling as he brought them to your lips.
“clean them well.” you nod tiredly before wrapping your lips around the thick digits. tongue lapping up whatever you could. “such a pretty girl. aren’t you?” for a moment, you ask yourself if you can take another round. jaafar just knows what you like to hear.
your lips are so swollen by the time jaafar pulls his fingers away. fixing your up against the pillows before laying on his stomach between your legs. “you’re dripping, baby. let me help you....” he doesn't wait for your confirmation.
dipping his head between your legs, tongue lapping up everything that your pussy couldn’t hold. your soft and overwhelmed whines making him smile against you. it wasn't until your hands began to push him away gently that he decided you had enough.
“you okay?” he asks, going back to hovering over you. watching as your thighs and hands immediately find their way around his sides. he couldn't help but lean down and press a soft kiss on his cheek. "you're not still mad at me, are you?" although he knows the answer, he wants to hear it from you.
“of course not, j." you reassure quietly, starting to nuzzle your face into his own. “thank you for sending her off...and I'm sorry for earlier."
“are you saying you regret having sex with me?” his question makes you laugh. pulling away and resting your head back into your pillow to look at him. for a moment, you swore his eyes were sparkling as he looked down at you.
shaking your head as your nails dragged up and down his sides slowly, “i know you were just upset, baby. i should’ve listened to you that day. so i’m sorry too.” he whispers, finally taking a moment to lay next to you.
“i love you. you know that, right?” you turned to face him, tugging the sheets that needed replacing over yourselves. scooting closer until your cheek was pressed up against the warmth of his chest. feeling his own hand find yours underneath the sheets and pull it up so it rested on his chest. your ring catching a glint of light and sparkling for a second.
☁️ 🎀 🧸˖ a/n: he’s winking at me btw. Also S/C stand for skin color 🩷
The afternoon sun filtered through the heavy velvet curtains of the living room, casting a warm, golden glow that danced across the mahogany furniture.
You were curled up on the oversized sofa, trying your best to focus on the book in your lap, but the words were blurring together.
For the last hour, a strange, pulsing heat had been building deep in your belly, radiating downward until your center felt heavy, swollen, and aching with a hunger you didn't understand.
You had never felt this way before, this insistent, throbbing need that made your skin feel too tight and your breath come in shallow hitches. Without even realizing it, you began to shift.
You pressed your thighs together, rubbing them in a slow, rhythmic friction that brought a momentary, flickering relief to the fire between your legs.
Your hand wandered beneath the fabric of your skirt, your fingers brushing against the soft, damp swell of your mound.
You pressed tentatively, your heart hammering against your ribs, chasing a feeling you couldn't name.
Every time you shifted, your hips tilted instinctively, seeking a pressure that your own hand couldn't quite provide.
Jaafar had been watching you from the doorway for several minutes, his dark eyes hooded and observant.
He saw the way your eyes had grown glazed, the way you were fidgeting with your clothes, and the subtle, desperate way you were rubbing your thighs together.
A knowing, tender smile touched his lips. He knew exactly what was happening; your body was waking up, demanding a release that your innocence had kept you from seeking on your own.
He walked over softly, his presence commanding yet gentle, the scent of sandalwood and expensive cologne preceding him.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his voice a low, soothing vibration that seemed to echo in the pit of your stomach. "What's wrong? You seem uncomfortable."
You looked up at him, your cheeks flushing a deep, burning crimson. "I... I don't know, Jaafar. I just feel weird. Like there's something humming inside me, and it won't stop. It's like I'm itching, but on the inside."
Jaafar's gaze darkened with a mixture of affection and raw desire. He reached out, cupping your cheek with his large, warm hand, his thumb stroking your skin.
"I think I know exactly what that feeling is, baby. Come with me. I'll help you feel better."
Trusting him implicitly, you let him lead you by the hand into the bedroom. The air here was cooler, smelling of clean linens and the intimacy of a shared life.
He guided you to the edge of the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, creating a tension that made your knees weak. With a soft, dominant grace, he began to strip you.
He peeled your clothes away piece by piece leaving on your panties, his eyes admiring every inch of your S/C skin glowing, lingering on the curve of your hips and the swell of your breasts.
He worked slowly, savoring the sight of your anticipation until you were left shivering slightly in nothing but your lace panties.
"Straddle me," he commanded softly, his voice leaving no room for doubt but wrapped in velvet.
You obeyed, climbing onto his lap and wrapping your legs around his waist.
The friction of your wet panties against the rough fabric of his jeans sent a jolt of electricity straight to your clit.
Jaafar gripped your hips, his large hands grounding you, his fingers digging slightly into your flesh.
"Now, just move for me," he whispered. "Grind your hips against me. Slow... just like that."
As you began to rock your pelvis against him, a soft, broken moan escaped your lips.
The pressure was perfect, hitting exactly where the ache was the sharpest.
You felt the hardness of him beneath the fabric, a solid pillar that promised the relief you craved.
"How does that feel, baby?" he asked, his voice a caress.
"It feels... so good," you whimpered, your head falling back, your chest heaving as you sought more friction. "I like it... please don't stop, Jaafar, please."
Jaafar continued to guide your rhythm, his hands squeezing your backside to keep you pressed tight against him, ensuring every movement maximized the contact.
While you were lost in the sensation, he began to question you, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of your arousal.
"Tell me, when did this feeling start?" he asked. "Did it happen suddenly, or has it been building all day?"
"I... I think... since this morning," you gasped, your movements becoming more frantic, your hips snapping forward. "It just... it wouldn't go away... oh, Jaafar, it's so hot!"
"And where do you feel it the most? Tell me exactly where it hurts, sweetheart," he urged, pushing you to acknowledge the raw desire blooming inside you.
"Down there... right here... it's throbbing..." you sobbed, grinding harder, your internal muscles clenching violently around the void.
You felt a sudden, sharp peak of intensity, a wave of warmth that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your vision blur.
It was an explosion of light and heat, a shimmering, golden peace that washed away the ache.
You slumped against his chest, panting, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Jaafar held you close, kissing your forehead before he gently shifted you. He slid his hand down, slipping a finger beneath the waistband of your panties.
"Let me see, baby."
He tugged them aside. The fabric clung, peeling away from your skin, a glistening sheen that coated the inside of the gusset and smeared across your inner thighs. His fingers came away wet.
"Look at that." He held his hand up so you could see. The afternoon light caught the moisture on his fingertips. "You came for the first time."
Your mouth formed a perfect O. "That's what that was?"
"Mmhmm."
"I came." The words were wondrous, like you were trying them on for size. "That was me cumming."
"And now you know what that feeling means." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Every time."
You beamed up at him, flushed and proud and utterly, devastatingly content.
Then your expression shifted. "Jaafar?"
"Yeah, baby?" His thumb stroked the inside of your wrist.
"Can you show me how to touch myself. So I can do it too."
The corner of his mouth lifted and he laid you down on your back, removing your panties. "Spread your legs a little. There. Just like that."
Your legs parted, both of you staring down at the landscape of your own body.
"Now," his lips brushed your earlobe, "I want you to touch yourself. Right here."
His finger pressed yours down until the pad of your index finger met something swollen.
Something that made your hips buck involuntarily. "Feel that?"
You nodded, throat too tight for words.
"That's your clit. That's where the feeling lives. Circle it. Slow. Like you're drawing little rings around it."
His hand stayed over yours, steering. The first rotation made your stomach clench. The second pulled a shaky exhale from your lungs.
"How's that?" he asked.
"Feels good. Really good."
"You can go lighter. Just barely graze it. That sometimes works better."
You adjusted the pressure. Let your fingertip skim instead of press, and the sensation turned electric, crackling up your spine, fanning out through your hips.
"I think i found it," you whispered.
"Yeah you did." His teeth grazed your earlobe. "Keep going. Don't stop."
Your wrist found its own rhythm, a lazy orbit that made your thighs tremble.
Jaafar's hands left yours to wander, one splayed flat on your stomach, the other cupping your breast.
His thumb circled your nipple in time with your circling finger, a mirror image, and the synchronicity made your head fall back against his shoulder.
"Listen to you," he breathed. "Making those pretty sounds already."
You hadn't realized you were making any sounds at all. But now you heard them, high and needy, catching in the back of your throat.
"Feels like before," you managed. "It's building up."
"Let it build. Let it be whatever it wants to be."
Your finger moved faster. Slick sounds now, wet and rhythmic. Jaafar's breath grew heavier.
"You're so beautiful like this. Learning your own body. Taking what you need."
The knot in your belly pulled tighter, tighter. "I think I'm gonna cum"
"Do it baby. Cum on your own fingers. Let me watch."
The permission was all you needed. Your back arched, hips grinding up into your own touch, and the climax hit like a wave you didn't see coming, shuddering and bright, your mouth open on a silent cry.
Jaafar held you through it, both arms wrapped tight, his lips pressed to your temple.
When you came back to yourself, you were shaking. Laughing, almost giddy.
"Jaafar... I want to know... what makes you feel like that. Show me. Please show me what pleases you."
A dark, hungry look crossed his face. He loved your curiosity, your willingness to surrender every part of yourself to him.
He gently flipped you over, positioning you on your stomach.
Your breasts were pressed into the mattress, your ass arched up, presenting your wet entrance to him.
"I'm going to go inside you now," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave, becoming guttural.
"I want you to focus on the photos wall, or the curtains... just distract your mind from the feeling for a moment, okay? Just breathe for me, baby."
You nodded frantically, clutching the sheets. You felt him press against you, then with a slow steady push, he began to enter.
You let out a sharp gasp of surprise, your body tightening around him as he stretched you open for the first time.
It was a full, heavy sensation that filled every void inside you, a pressure that felt both overwhelming and right.
"Shhh, just breathe... you're doing so well, baby. Just relax for me," he encouraged, waiting for your muscles to yield.
Once you relaxed, Jaafar didn't hold back. He gripped your hips firmly, his fingers bruising your skin, and began to fuck you with a deep, rhythmic intensity.
Each thrust was a blunt force of pleasure, hitting your depths and making you cry out in a mixture of shock and ecstasy.
The sound of his skin slapping against your ass filled the room, a primal beat that matched the pounding of your heart.
He drove into you relentlessly, his movements becoming faster and more powerful, his cock sliding deep into your tight heat.
He was no longer just the soft guide, he was the man claiming you, filling you completely, stretching you to your limit.
You sobbed his name, your body vibrating under the onslaught of his pleasure.
"My beautiful, sweet girl. You feel so tight... so perfect around me."
you sobbed. "Don't stop don't stop don't stop—"
He didn't. He fucked you through it, steady and relentless, and when the climax shattered through you, it had you whining into the pillow, body clenching around him in waves.
His rhythm broke. A guttural sound punched out of his chest, and he pulled out just before his own release, hot and wet against your lower back. His forehead dropped to your shoulder.
You felt the warmth filling you, a brand that marked you as his.
You collapsed into the pillows, completely spent, your heart full of love and your body humming with a satisfaction you never knew existed.
For a long moment, only breathing. Only the humid tangle of limbs and the afternoon light slanting golden across the sheets.
"That was different from before."
He laughed, exhausted and fond. "Yeah, baby. It was."
"Can we do it again?"
He let out a laughing sigh. "Give me a few minutes."
You smiled into the pillow, already counting down.
Reader has never danced in front of Jaafar before and has always told him she sucks at dancing, he never once questioned her about it.
The truth was reader can dance and she's actually really good too, she's just too shy to dance in front of her man because weeell he's a Jackson 🤷♀️.
One day on set of the biopic, Jaafar leaves the studio to get some air leaving reader in the studio with Rich and Tone who are in the middle of coming up with new choreography to teach Jaafar. As they are dancing, reader gets into a groove and starts mimicking their moves very well. The guys catch on to her dancing and soon the three of them are dancing in sync to the music. From outside the studio, Jaafar can hear Reader's loud laughter and he gets curious so he makes his way back into the studio, only to see his girl holding onto Rich as he leads her across the room in a smooth but sensual dance that gives off a bit of ballroom dance vibes. She's giggling, holding strong eye contact with Rich while he spins her around and quickly pulls her body back into his chest, ending in a pose.
It's all innocent, at least according to reader and Rich but Jaafar doesn't feel the same way.
Literally his reaction:
Later, once Rich and Tone have left the studio, Jaafar pounces on reader and makes her perform sexy dance moves on top of him while he destroys her pussy.
"Telling me you can't dance, yet you had no problem parading MY pussy around in front of Rich and Tone", he grunts as he thrusts up into her, mercilessly.
Reader is loving the pounding that her pussy is getting and can't help but to tease Jaafar
"Your pussy?, who said my pussy belongs to you?"
............................
Okay this was long, oopsie hehe.
OHH?! and him fucking reader until she screams out his name and he keeps asking her who owns that pussy and she doesn’t reply just so she can be turned every which way but loose
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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warnings: dead dove do not eat: dark romance, smut (yes it includes gun play, knife play, stockholm syndrome (?), suspense)
note: if you're uncomfortable with the warnings ahead please skip this fan fiction.
release date: mid october!
you feel the cool press of metal sliding up the inside of your thigh and your whole body tightens up, heart hammering so loud you swear jaafar can hear it. he’s right there above you, chest pressed to your back, breath hot and ragged against your neck while the penthouse lights flicker soft through the windows. his free hand is between your legs already, fingers dragging through how soaked you are, teasing, spreading you open like he owns every inch.
“breathe, princess,” he whispers, voice all low and husky, that smirk you can practically feel against your skin. “i got you. just trust me.”
the barrel of the gun traces higher, cold and heavy, sending this wild mix of fear and heat rushing straight to your core. you know it’s unloaded—you watched him empty it—but fuck, the danger still makes your stomach flip. he rubs it slow against your folds, letting your wetness coat the metal, and you can’t help the little whimper that slips out when he starts pushing it in.
inch by inch, the thick barrel stretches you open, colder than anything you’ve ever felt inside you. your walls flutter around it, clenching tight as he sinks it deeper, twisting just a little so it drags against all those sensitive spots. it’s so wrong and so fucking good at the same time, your hips pushing back on their own, chasing that full, heavy feeling.
“fuck, look at you taking it,” jaafar groans, lips brushing your ear. “so pretty and desperate for my gun, baby. you feel how deep it is?”
he starts moving it, slow thrusts that make your toes curl, his thumb circling your clit at the same time. your mind is spinning, pleasure crashing into that sharp edge of thrill until you’re moaning into the pillow, fingers twisting in the sheets. every push makes you wetter, the slick sounds filling the room and making your face burn.
he pulls it out after a while, all shiny with you, and brings it up to your mouth. “open up for me, princess.”
you do, lips wrapping around the barrel without hesitation. the taste of yourself hits your tongue as you suck on it, slow and messy, eyes locked on his while you bob your head a little. jaafar curses under his breath, hand gentle in your hair as he guides you deeper, letting the muzzle press against your throat until your eyes water.
“that’s my good girl,” he murmurs, voice thick with want. “sucking it so sweet… like you were made for this. made for me.”
you moan around the metal, tongue swirling, giving it the same attention you’d give his cock. it’s filthy and intimate and makes you ache even more. he watches you the whole time, eyes dark and full of that worshipful hunger that always melts you.
after a minute he pulls it away, flips you onto your back and slides between your legs again. this time when he pushes the gun back inside you’re already throbbing, so sensitive that the first thrust makes you cry out. he fucks you with it a little faster now, leaning down to kiss you deep and sloppy while his fingers work your clit.
“come on, baby, let go for me,” he breathes against your mouth. “wanna feel you cum all over it. show me how much you love being mine like this.”
it hits you hard—waves of pleasure crashing through your body, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tight around the cold barrel as you fall apart. jaafar keeps moving it through every pulse, whispering how perfect you are, how beautiful you look when you’re like this for him, how he’d do anything for his princess.
when it finally fades he pulls the gun out carefully and sets it aside, then gathers you up in his arms right away. his hands are so gentle now, stroking your back, pressing soft kisses to your sweaty forehead, your cheeks, your lips.
“you okay, my love?” he asks softly, voice full of that warm adoration that always makes your chest feel too tight. “did i push you too far?”
you shake your head, curling closer into his chest, and he smiles against your hair. his fingers are already trailing down your body again, slow and soothing, ready to take care of you for as long as you need.
“good,” he murmurs. “because i’m nowhere near done worshipping you tonight.”
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Idc, normalize kink shaming. Cause y'all be using “don’t kink shame” and “it’s fiction” to excuse being into incest, pedophilia, cannibalism, etc. Like, be so fr, you ship a 14 year old with a 30 year, want to get railed by your dad and want to see two brothers f*ck each other. I don’t engage with things fictionally that I don’t like/wouldn’t want to do in real life. Yes, I’m judging you.
