#jaafarians

jaafar jackson x f!reader ────୨ৎ──── ♡ wc: 2.6k

synopsis: midnight snack run w/ jaafar

cw: fluff, established relationship, makeout, just v cutesy

this was meant to be something short while i finished my other fics but i got a bit carried away</3

you glanced at the clock hanging above the mirrors before letting your head fall back against the wall.

12:42 a.m.

the numbers felt ridiculous.

when jaafar had promised he was only staying for another hour, it had still been yesterday. now the city outside the studio windows was mostly dark, the buildings across the street reduced to scattered squares of light. somewhere below, a lone car passed through the intersection before disappearing from view.

content/warnings: quickie smut, jaafar's in his michael makeup, wife! reader, they're currently in tension bc theyre mad with each other, so it lowkey starts angsty but ends steamy and redemption, short but sweet, sub and whiny jaafar YES, dry humping into unprotected sex (hints at breeding kink), fem anatomy described WC: 4.1k A/N: i knew as SOON as i saw him post this picture... a fic was incoming LOL. also, i've been getting lots and lots of questionable and hate comments under my account and i'm here to tell all the haters that this is not the page to do so. i will cuss you out AND block you!

You’ve been gnawing at your lip for what seemed the entire car ride- 45 minutes to be exact. You were unsure whether even coming to see your husband at work was the right idea, especially right now. But it was a tradition you both had built since he began filming, and you weren’t planning to break it just because you happened to be mad at him. 

The argument started two nights ago over something that should’ve been small but has grown slightly. Due to Jaafar’s new movie, Michael, being a family-oriented production, much of the funding came directly from the Jackson family. Thankfully, most of the older family members had their wealth secured and set, and didn’t dig too deep when investing their funds. The second generation, such as the Jacksons’ kids, including Jaafar, weren’t as wealthy. They had their privileges, of course, but most of the money they made was earned individually. Jaafar had built his wealth through music production and occasional film score composing. 

When you got married, you agreed that any major financial decisions would be made together. That was the smartest and most conscious decision. For the five years you two have been married, that deal has been kept. A couple of days ago, however, you received a phone call from your accountant, who let you know that a very large sum had been removed from your account and transferred to someone else. When you double-checked with her to assure it was a mistake, she let you know that Jaafar had signed off on it.  You looked into it, and it turns out, Jaafar had contributed his own investment into the film, without double-checking with you. It made your stomach twist with irritation and hurt, but you chose to brush it off till he got home that evening. 

You were at the kitchen table, dinner in hand, as the front door opened. Jaafar walked in, throwing his hoodie on the coat rack before making his way into the kitchen. “Hey, baby.” He muttered and reached to press a kiss on your face. You turned slightly, lips hitting your hair instead. 

His eyebrows rose in confusion, but he brushed it off, turning to the sink to wash his hands. He took a quick glance at you, searching for anything that could alert him to why you hadn’t greeted him back. “How was your day today?” 

You shrugged, food no longer looking appetizing. You set the fork down and picked up the glass of juice. “Could’ve been better.” Jaafar sets his plate down, arms holding his upper body up against the marble-grained countertop. “Why’s that?” 

“Why did you take 1 million dollars out of our account and give it to the Estate?” You curtly say, pivoting your body towards Jaafar. You point to the flat screen of your phone against the table, lip twitching in uncertainty. You hated confrontation, and doing it with your favorite person made you hate them even more. 

He sighs, shaking his head. He parts his mouth, ready to give an explanation even he knows isn’t enough for you to just leave it alone. “You know my family’s all giving their own shares. I thought it’d be necessary if I did too.” 

“Without checking with me?” 

“I didn’t think I needed to. With filming going on, we needed more funds for some reshoots we’re doing. I thought it was obvious.” 

You scoff, standing from your chair. You stride towards the kitchen, across from Jaafar as he keeps his gaze on you. “We have been asking each other about that kind of stuff for 5 years, Jaafar. Why would it change now?”

He shrugs his shoulders, and his unwillingness to even pretend he can’t see where you’re coming from begins to make your blood boil, but you cross your legs, holding onto the counter for some sort of support, at least. 

“I get you want to help your family out, and it is your movie, but you have to let me know. I cannot see that kind of money just being transferred out of our account with no explanation.” 

“It’s just money. We’ll get it back, I promise.” “That’s not the point I’m trying to make, Jaafar, and you know it. It’s the fact that you did it without checking with me first.”

Jaafar picks up his plate and fills it with food. You stand, baffled, unsure whether he was done talking to you. He walks behind you, taking his seat in the chair at the table. You turn, hands raising in confusion. “Are we done discussing this?”

“We’re not discussing anything. You’re arguing with me about it while I’m trying to explain my side.”

“No one’s trying to argue, babe. I’m just letting you know I didn’t feel comfortable with that happening.” 

He sighs, eyes closing as he rests his head in his palms, breathing without structure. You cross your arms, feeling defeated. “And I’m letting you know what it’s for. I’m not asking for the money back; we need it. The movie needs it. I need it.”

There’s a slight crack in his voice as he speaks, and you know the pressure of everything is on him. It’s in the tired creases around his melancholy eyes, under the plumpness of his chapped lips. It’s in the small bruises in his hands and knees, dancing for hours till his toes bleed in pleas for a break. 

But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s belittling your side of the conversation, so you muster all the courage inside you to shake your head, foot tapping against the tiles under your slippers. “I understand that. I do, I really do. But that amount of money is huge. There’s no excuse for that. We’ve been talking about wanting to try for children soon, yet you make decisions like this behind my back without consulting me first. That hurts, J.” 

“It’ll play out when the movie comes out. That money will come back, and more.”

You suppress an eye roll and shrug your shoulders. “Can you even try to apologize and see where I’m coming from?”

“I do see your side, baby, I do. But please, for the sake of peace, see mines too.” 

Your heart hurts. You understand he’s deflating the way he is because of pressure, exhaustion, and confusion. But you know you’re right, too. And neither of you is willing to recognize each other’s explanations right now. You take a deep breath and raise your hand. “Fine, then. For the sake of peace, sleep in the guest room.” And with that, you give him one last disappointed look before walking away. For a second, you think he’ll apologize and come after you. But in the next second, your steps stay lonely. 

The next morning, Jaafar doesn’t say anything to you before he leaves. He brews you a mug of coffee, but doesn’t leave a note or even bother sending a text message throughout the day to check up on you, like he usually does. You knew the argument could’ve been fixed with a simple apology from him, and maybe a rational thought from you as well, but it was puerile behavior from the two of you now. You reciprocate the same energy by not making him dinner that evening and staying by the pool until he falls asleep. You walked by the guest room and took a quick peek inside. He’s asleep, still dressed in his clothes, even having his shoes on. He’s shivering, and he’s holding the throw pillow tight in his hands. The sight makes your insides turn, in regret and empathy. You shake your head to yourself and walk inside, softly pulling the pillow to the floor. You reach to take his shoes off, and hold his sole carefully, aware of the blisters covering his toes. You throw the blanket on his body, giving his thigh a squeeze before walking away. 

“I love you.” His voice is dazed, interrupting your attempt to quietly leave the room. 

You hold onto your chest before breathing softly. “I love you. Night.” Your voice is fragile, and even as Jaafar’s hardly awake, he heeds the pain in your voice. It makes the guilt soothe him even more, and he closes his eyes, afraid that if he keeps them open, he’ll shatter into a million pieces. 

•┈┈

You park your car in the parking garage, taking a deep breath and holding onto the bag you’ve brought with you. You brought one of Jaafar’s favorite foods, a crispy chicken sandwich from the Honor Bar. It was where he took you for your first date, and you’ve been bringing him lunch every week, as a way to see him amid all the busy hours throughout the work days. 

The crew members greet you as always, giving you polite gestures as you walk through the halls with your bags in hand. Your pass is wrapped around your neck, and you check the time on your watch before stopping in front of Jaafar’s door. You bring a hesitant hand to the door before taking a breath, knocking softly against the wood. You wait a beat before opening the door, and feel the breath you’ve been holding in release on its own. Your occupied hand trembles, and you feel your body betraying you as you force your mouth shut. 

Jaafar is in front of his vanity, a small mirror mounted on the wall, with bright, intense lights highlighting the details of his face. He’s dressed so elegantly, still in costume. His makeup and hair still intact, and despite visiting him for so long, you’ve never actually seen him in costume. Not so still, at least. And alone. 

You hate the fact that there’s a flicker of disbelief in his face, one that he masks with relief. You give him a small smile and clear your throat. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby.” 

“You look shocked to see me here. Not sure I like that.” You close the door and turn the lock as you take a seat on the couch across from Jaafar. 

He opens his mouth, gazing into your eyes as he removes the sparkling white glove from his hand. “I figured we’d still be… you know. I think I didn’t want to get my hopes up.” 

There’s a small scoff that escapes from you, but you follow it with a tut. You cross your legs, tapping your fingers against your knee. “How are your hopes now?” 

Jaafar bites his inner lip, tugging at the tag on his pants as a distraction. “Undeserving.” 

You take his mutter into consideration, cognizant of the tone as he waited for your response. You hum, dipping your head as your eyes remain locked with his. “We have to talk about it eventually. Now, preferably. I don’t want our food to get cold.” 

He softly breaths, an attempt at expressing a sense of humor, but he’s too emotional to do so. “I’m sorry for my behavior these past few days. For a while, actually.” You give him a nod, an acknowledgment of the understanding of what he means. 

“The process for creating this film, and bringing it to life, has become such an overwhelming process. I got so wrapped up in trying to figure things out the way all these experienced people have done before that I thought I could do it, too. In doing so, I went against our core vows and have hurt you in the process. That was never my intention, baby. I truly am so sorry for the way I've acted over the past few days. I gave you space because I know we both needed that more than anything. But I missed you so fucking much, I was going crazy.” Jaafar’s voice cracks numerous times, and he feels the top of his lip wet with several tears. He doesn’t care to let the emotion come to life, because he deserves to feel the regret he came to terms with the moment he saw you walk away. 

There’s no sound in the room besides your heavy breathing, and it takes every restrictive power in you to stop you from standing and shoving Jaafar’s delicate face into your chest. The tears streaming down his face break you so gently. You taste the sweat under your chin as you bring it to your lips, moving anxiously under Jaafar’s red eyes. 

“I’m sorry for not being willing to see your side, baby. I think I always did, but I was mad at you for being so stubborn.” You whisper, eyes slightly dipping in mendacious tautness as your husband gives you a concurring nod. 

He dabs at his face, attempting to wipe any tears off his prosthetics before he continues speaking. “You wouldn’t have to feel that way if it weren’t for me. I’m so sorry, sweet girl.” 

The nickname breaks you of any restraint, and your body rises before your mind alerts you. You close the short distance between the two of you and wrap your arms around Jaafar’s sequenced shoulders, rubbing at any previous rigidness with consoling devotion and pardon. He feels the way only your unique and soothing touch can bring him back to life fully, and he closes his eyes, a quiet moan escaping him. It was quiet under the heavy breathing that was transpiring from his mouth, which you almost didn’t catch. Almost. 

“Now, now, I forgive you, baby. I missed you, too.” There’s a commanding intonation in the manner you hum against Jaafar’s styled hair, and suddenly the friction between the two of you grows desperate. This was secretly your favorite part after all the worries are no more, and the things you have said to one another are gone. Somehow, it always got to that point. Where sincere apologies are made, and you drop the authoritarian act, and become authoritative. The anger is no longer quiet screaming, but instead moans of passion. In some way, you sometimes wonder if this unbreakable habit is wrong, but it always gets to that point somehow. Where your clothes become half-off, and all the pent-up frustration becomes released through ruts and rushed kisses.  

There’s a twitch in Jaafar’s hardening cock as he hears the tone in your seductive syllables, and he forces his hand against the pinch of your waist to relax. He slightly pulls his head away from your chest and throws his head back. “We’re done filming for the day, in this costume. I’m ‘posed to be taking this makeup off, actually.” 

You hum in reply to his piteous mumble and bring your fingers across Jaafar’s face, fixating on every detail of his features. The makeup team took their time in ensuring his face was exact to what his uncle’s details were, and you ran your fingers extra carefully on the parts you noticed were made with additional caution. It was something so alluring about seeing Jaafar in this costume and makeup- it was almost like it was another version of him you never knew you could access. But having him under your touch, legs on either side of his perfectly built thighs, made your core begin to moist with seduction and satisfaction- a guilty pleasure, if truth be told. “Is that so? And here I was, having some time to watch how beautiful you look in that makeup.”

Jaafar would never get used to the way you would confidently call his beauty out. He knew he was a pretty man, but hearing the words come out of your lips, the ones he loved to run his tongue against, was another form of a tantalizing rush down his cock, quickening his pulse until his mind would become foggy, control no longer his. “Can you help me take it off, then? Please, baby?” 

A double glance at the locked door is all it takes for your lips to crash against Jaafar’s. Your tongue swirls against his, desperate savoring evident in your hoarse exhales. Your hands run along the back of his head, textured curls tangled in between your fingers. There’s a soft piece caught between your ring as you pull, which makes Jaafar whine. The cry is frenzied, and a smirk crawls on your lips. His hands began to fondle with whatever plumpness of your body he could find, wanting to capture whatever he could knead. 

Every clash against your mouth is an unspoken plea Jaafar begs for sonorously. He needs more, and despite the wetness of his pre-cum you feel against the material of your bottoms, the distance is too much. He knows there’s a time limit that the two of you have to fool around before work begins again, and the warmth that circulates throughout his body is enough sampling to thrill him for more. He takes a shameful swallow before lifting his hips up, readjusting himself in the chair, and gripping onto your hip bone. He laps at your lip as he moves your body against his own, the drag of your clothed cunt against his own cock melting flawlessly. You grind onto his lap with erratic snaps, eyes rolling back with elation. The thrums against your skin become too much, and you pull off your top, crashing Jaafar’s face into your chest. He does his job in nipping at the softness of your breasts, ensuring a mark is left with a desperate lick. His patterns become overstimulating, so you pull down your bra and keen in roil as his teeth graze over your nipples. 

Jaafar silently begs to whoever is listening to his intoxicating mind to allow him to remain in this bliss forever. His eyes trace over the transfer of his makeup against the sweat on your skin, and that sight is the most captivating thing he’s ever seen on you. He feels his hair stick onto his skin, but his focus remains on the bounce of your breasts, every hump against the curve of his cock enveloping him in a trance he never wants to snap out of, not even when he feels his release begin to build up. 

You feel the metal of his zipper hit your clothed pussy, and the sensation makes your button tingle with electricity. You feel your slick continue to swell, pleating against your folds. Your jerks are intense, like a personal workout your body appreciates you’ve decided to take. Your eyes open for a slight minute, stuck on the way, Jaafar’s eyes remain riveted on your body. You let out a sharp intake of breath, feeling a tiny bit of drool threaten to escape from the side of your mouth. The consciousness only grows because Jaafar’s eyes begin to well up with tears. Overstimulating tears, the ones that you know he’ll let out the second your walls enclose around his bare cock. 

He gives a soft croak as his eyes dip, greed entering his body as he cups your breast. “More, more, more.” Every whine is hasty, yearning for a release. He doesn’t care that his underwear will be sticky once he pulls it down his legs, or the fact that the very expensive costume pants he’s wearing will be ruined with your slick. Jaafar’s only focus is on the rapid darts of his tongue on you. He watches the way your mouth parts open, your head bobbing with every lap he gives you.  

He feels the release threatening to snap, so he uses all his force to grip onto your hips even harsher, approving of every pornographic bounce you lay on him. “I need to cum.” He whines against your skin, and you bring your mouth to his ear, softly licking his lobe as your hand runs down his neck and onto his jacket, gripping the material beneath it. The small conscious part of your mind is aware he’s still in costume, and will most likely have to return it once he’s done using it. 

The bigger portion of your consciousness, however, only cares about the intense throbs of your cunt, because you give him a laudatory nod, melting at the way your skin burns so perfectly under Jaafar’s reckless hold. Your husband instantly uses his green light and cries, moaning like an animal in heat as his release fills his pants, wet and slick, and begins to run through onto your thighs. Your release comes seconds after, and your bounces slow down, legs spasming with exhaustion. 

Your heavy breaths blend, and you bring your hand hurriedly to his pants, unzipping the material, fingers wetting with Jaafar’s cum. You bring a finger rapidly to your mouth and lick it, humming at the taste. Jaafar swears he feels more spill out of his tip, so he brings his hands to help pull his cock out as you stand and step out of your pants, not caring to do the same with your panties. You pull those to the side and keep one hand on Jaafar’s shoulder, breath hitched as you sink down on his cock. Every inch is an eyeroll you give, and before you know it, you’re both immediately swallowed by warmth. There’s a hint of pain, so you use the adjustment to his size to bring your lips to his neck, licking at his sweet spot.

“Thank you, my sweet girl. Thank you.” The tightness disappears into pleasure, and you move slowly. You begin to grind against his shaft, building up slick before you begin to quicken your pace. His hands come up to your face, and your features fit so perfectly against his large palms.

“You’re doing so good for me, for us, my baby. I love you. You always do so great. I admire you, my sweet love.” Every word hits you deeper than his cock, and your body instinctively begins to build an unrelenting tempo, every ride against his perfect cock massaging your walls. It makes your body yearn for more, more than what you’re bucking for.

Every bounce on him becomes a precise beat, hips smacking against one another at the same time. Your fingers run under Jaafar’s eyes, tears slickening them as you softly smirk. “All these tears, just for me, hm?” 

He nods without hesitation, cock hitting every spot so perfectly. “Yes, m’am.” Oh god, could he be any more perfect for you? You hum against his skin, watching the ways his curls move against the rhythm you’ve both set, and it makes you fuse grow even quicker. 

Jaafar grips both sides of your hips, eyes focused on the way his cock slips in and out of you. Watching the way your cunt is so perfectly stuffed by him, it makes his hunger grow. He takes hold of the control, thrusting himself into you with pounds so heavy and filling, you feel it penetrate you mercilessly. His mouth opens before he can think about what he’s about to say, yet he feels no regret. “I want to cum inside you and put a baby in you. Can I do that? Please? Will you let me stuff you full, sweet girl?” Your moans become inconsolable, and you nod your head, unwilling to care about the reality of what this will mean for both of you. Your legs begin to shudder, and you give warning taps against Jaafar’s face as he nods. 

His thrusts become frantic, wanting to make sure you feel the need in every vein inside you, in every rut as he begins to fill you. He directs your hand to your nipple, and you pinch it, and your vision becomes spotty. Your mouth parts, and your back arches as Jaafar’s hips jerk against you. His whines grow louder, and you take every single one in memory as he spills inside you, painting you like a piece he wishes to admire forever. His tired eyes come down to your opening, and he watches in awe as his release spills outside your cunt and down your legs. 

You fall onto his chest, knees limp as Jaafar brings his hands to your back, soothing it in a familiar pattern. A wave of aftershock washes over you for some time, so you’re silent, body slightly twitching from the sputters undone. 

Jaafar pulls your head off his chest with care, pressing kisses against your face as he whispers comforting praises. It makes you melt, and your walls begin to flutter as he softly twitches inside you. His pupils are dilated, and the sight of his wet, dark, beautiful eyes makes you lean forward, relaxing your mouth against his. 

“Sweet girl.” He mutters against you, stroking the softness of your neck as your breathing calms down, no longer past the normal beat. 

pairing: Jaafar Jackson x f!reader summary: Getting your fiancé through wisdom tooth surgery should be simple. Except Jaafar, who never says anything out of line, has apparently left all his self-control at the door of the operating room. warnings: 18+ MDNI, suggestive content, anesthesia doing its thing, dirty talk (kinda? idk), established relationship word count: 1.6k words image credits: anotherpartoffme, davischloe881, filmsbyavs and themastersreign on tumblr

a/n: sooooo, this is my longest fic in a good, good while. I really enjoyed writing it, so I hope you guys enjoy it too! Forgive me if my sense of humor was only funny in my own head lol ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · · ✦ · · ·

You should have known. You absolutely should have known.

Even before Jaafar told you he was getting his wisdom teeth out and that he would need you around for the post-anesthesia aftermath, you'd already lost count of how many videos you'd seen online of kids and adults saying the wildest things after the procedure.

You'd even sent some of them to a Jaafar who hadn't even considered the possibility yet, with captions like "your turn is coming." It was only natural to expect something like that, but why did nobody warn you it would be a thousand times worse?

She's probably loving every second of this, you thought, glancing at the nurse from the corner of your eye. Obviously she wouldn't warn you it would be a thousand times worse - obviously she would kill to be alone with Jaafar in a moment like this. Bitch. She was ogling Jaafar so hard you were tempted to pull her wisdom teeth out yourself, right then and there.

If you didn't have to worry about the fact that Jaafar had nearly undressed himself three times, almost stabbed himself with a scalpel that was dangerously within reach, and belted out Livin' On a Prayer at the top of his lungs - or, as he sang it, "peeing on the mayor" - in the last five minutes, you would have absolutely been the one sticking that scalpel somewhere near the nurse instead.

Jaafar seemed both fine and not fine at the same time. The surgery had gone well and he just needed a few good days to recover, but now came the fun part: waiting for the anesthesia to wear off. He was more restless than usual and way more talkative, and you kept going back and forth between wanting to help him and wanting to film him for blackmail material later.

Surprisingly, Jaafar hadn't quite registered your presence yet, which for now put you on equal footing with the nurse who was already occupying the space. And showing absolutely no signs of leaving. What do you want, you evil witch? He's not taking his clothes off again as long as I'm here.

"I need to pee right now-now or I'm gonna turn into a faaau-cet, do you want that? Pee-ee leaking like a faucet? I don't think so, my pee-ee is very hea-"

"Jaafar, your pee is very healthy," you cut in, with a smile on your face.

That was the first time he actually looked looked at you. His eyes, still glazed over from the anesthesia, did nothing to hide the admiration that washed over him as he looked you up and down, letting out a whistle so loud you felt your cheeks burn on the spot.

"Who are you?"

"It's me, baby," you said with a small laugh, though a seed of worry settled in your chest. Did he really not recognize you?

"Is it my birthday? What is this little piece of caaaa-ndy? I'm gonna need to unwrap it to see if it's-"

"Jaafar!" you said, equally mortified and in disbelief.

Jaafar was a reserved, shy man. There was only one moment his mouth became dirtier than anything you'd ever heard, and that was when he completely lost control in bed. But hearing him say things like that was rare enough. I don't want to disrespect you, he always said. Hearing him say it in public? Code red.

"What? I really want something sweet right now," he said, his voice dripping with a barely-disguised second meaning.

"Yeah, easy there, Willy Wonka, the one thing you absolutely cannot eat right now is sugar," you said calmly, taking a sip of your juice.

"Nobody said I can't eat you."

The coughing that tore through you was so sudden and violent that for a moment you genuinely considered that this was how it ended. The nurse glanced over and moved to help, but you waved her off quickly to signal you were fine. Oh sure, go ahead and finish suffocating me, why don't you?

"Jaafar, you're not going to remember any of this. And I will happily tell your brother every single word."

"You know my brother? Who are you?" he asked again, suddenly very curious about how a woman this beautiful would know so much about him. Thank you, Lord.

"She's your fiancée, Jaafar. Don't you remember?" The nurse's cold voice cut through the room for the first time, and it was like a thousand tiny daggers straight to your ribs. Yeah, you kinda wished you'd choked after all.

"My fiancée?" Jaafar's eyes went wide as he looked at you again, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

"Unless you've changed your mind and don't want to-"

"Don't want to what?"

"Marry me."

"Bury you?"

"Jesus, baby, marry me."

"Although I really would like to bury... my dick in your pus-"

"Jaafar, oh my God!"

That was enough to send the nurse huffing out of the room. If I'd known, I would've climbed him myself.

"What? He really needs some comfort right now."

"What?"

"My little friend down he-ere. He saw you and gave you a standing ovation."

"A standi- Jaafar, what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong. Everything down here is very, very right”

You genuinely didn't know whether to laugh, dig a hole in the floor, record all of it, or call the nurse back in to double-check that the anesthesia doses had been anywhere near reasonable.

“I’ll die if you don’t kiss me.”

"I'll kiss you, just not right now."

"Why not? Aren't you my fiancée? Don't fiancées kiss their fiancés?"

"Yes, fiancées kiss their fiancés, but right now you'd moan in pain if I kissed you."

"You want to make me moan?"

"Jaafar." You felt your cheeks burning, a subtle wave of heat running between your legs. You almost slapped yourself at the thought, he had just gotten out of surgery, for God's sake.

"So you do want to kiss me."

"Jaafar."

"Not even a little peck?"

"Are you going to behave?"

He nodded, looking like a mischievous kid who would do absolutely anything to get his reward.

Moving slowly toward him, you cupped his face gently and looked him in the eyes. Even clouded by the anesthesia, the love was still there, in the way he looked at you, melting under your hands. You let your hands slide down to his neck, resting your right one on his chest, which immediately went off like a drum. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thumpthumpthumpthump.

"Are you okay?"

"I'll be better once you kiss me."

You smiled and pressed your lips softly against his. The kiss was quick, light, barely a peck, but just enough to fill your chest with that warm, familiar feeling of home. Jaafar tried to deepen it, but you pulled back, remembering it could hurt him.

"Baby..."

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, tracing the outline of your lips with his fingertips. "You actually taste like something sweet."

"You're not going to remember any of this later," you murmured, suddenly flustered.

"I will absolutely remember the taste of your lips."

“Oh Lord, give me strength.”

"I'll give you something better than strength, do you-”

“Jaafar, I swear to God.”

“Shhh, pretty girl. Stay here with me, come closer", he murmured, and you clenched your thighs together at the sound of pretty girl so close to your ear.

"I'm right here."

"You're not even touching me properly", he said. He might not have recognized you fully in that moment, but his body, heart and mind did, and he wanted you as close as possible.

"Baby, I’m literally touching you."

"Debatable."

"Debatable how? I’m literally tou-"

"Now you are."

And with one swift movement, Jaafar grabbed your hand and guided it right onto his hard cock, making very clear to you that the anesthesia had done absolutely nothing to affect certain things.

"Mr. Jackson, here are your-"

The nurse went as white as her own scrubs at the sight in front of her, as she entered the room unannounced. You could have been mortified. Flustered. Maybe both at once. But the wave of satisfaction that washed over you was so much stronger than any of that.

Better than choking to death, right bitch?

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"I said what?" A mortified Jaafar asked, sitting on the couch in your shared apartment, the anesthesia long worn off.

What hadn't worn off was the shame creeping through him after you'd recounted everything that happened, and that had been twenty minutes ago.

"You said you wanted to unwrap me and eat m-"

"Okay, you don't have to repeat it."

"You're the one who asked."

"Baby, I'm so sorry. I don't know what got into me."

"It's fine, baby. I would've been more worried if you'd said all that to that nurse who was absolutely dying to flirt with you. Right in front of me!"

"What nurse? I didn't even notice anyone else there."

"Right, you were a little too busy putting my hand on your cock to notice much of anything."

"Ughh, no," Jaafar groaned, burying his face in his hands, “This is a nightmare”.

"Hey, there's nothing to be ashamed of, baby. That's just what anesthesia does, don't you remember those videos I sent you?" you asked, sitting beside him on the couch and trying to pull his hands away from his face.

"Yeah, but in none of them was the guy trying to fuck his fiancée in front of everyone," he said, freezing the moment he realized what had slipped out. "I think the anesthesia hasn't fully worn off yet."

"You say much worse things to me in bed."

Jaafar looked at you, a mix of shame and arousal dancing in his eyes, and pressed a slow kiss to your cheek.

"So what do you say... We head upstairs so I can give you a proper standing ovation?"

"I say... I'm sending your brother everything I recorded first," you grinned diabolically, holding up your phone with a frozen frame of Jaafar mid-attempt at his first striptease.

"You wouldn't dare," he said, narrowing his eyes.

"Oh yeah?" you said, already hitting send. "Catch me if you can!"

For the record: he caught you. He always did.

Genre: just pure fluff

Pairing: jaafar x Modelfem!reader

short one shot

Description: A glimpse into Y/N’s Vogue routine, and the sleepy boyfriend who accidentally crashed it.

The video cuts on to a beautifully lit, marble-countertop bathroom. The camera focuses on you, standing in a plush white bathrobe, your hair effortlessly clipped back away from your fresh, bare face.

You wave at the lens with a bright smile. "Hey, what's up, Vogue I'm Y/N, and today I'm going to show you my signature, everyday glam."

Leaning closer to the mirror, you pick up a bottle of facial mist, spritzing it over your skin to prep. "Because I'm constantly on planes and sitting in makeup chairs for hours under heavy studio lights, skin prep is literally everything to me. If your base isn't hydrated, nothing else matters."

As you begin rubbing a rich moisturizer into your face in upward motions, the bathroom door in the background cracks open.

Through the reflection, Jaafar walks in. He’s dressed completely down in a gray hoodie, his hair a bit messy, looking like he just woke up. He doesn't even care that the cameras are rolling. He walks right up behind you, wrapping his long arms around your waist and burying his face directly into the crook of your neck with a low morning groan.

You laugh softly, continuing to pat the cream into your cheeks. "We have company, Jaafar. Say hi to Vogue."

Jaafar blinks sleepily into the camera lens through the mirror, a lazy, incredibly attractive smile spreading across his lips. He doesn't let go of your waist, instead tightening his grip and pulling your back flush against his chest. "Hey, Vogue. Don't let her lie to you, she doesn't even need any of this stuff. She wakes up looking perfect."

You blush instantly, hiding your face for a second before swatting playfully at his arm. "Stop it, go get your coffee. I'm trying to work."

He chuckles, a low, gravelly sound right against your ear. He presses a sweet, lingering kiss to your cheek—careful not to mess up your freshly moisturized skin—before finally letting go. "Alright, alright. I'll be in the kitchen."

Once the door clicks shut behind him, you look back at the camera, shaking your head with a wide grin. "Anyway... back to the routine. After moisturizer, I like to go in with a really lightweight skin tint. I don't like heavy foundations for my everyday look, just enough to even things out."

You dot the product across your nose and cheeks, using your fingers to blend it out smoothly. "My signature look is all about looking fresh and effortless. Next is brows. I just use a clear brow gel to brush them upward and lock them in place. Very simple."

Grabbing a small tub of cream blush, you pat a warm, rosy shade onto your cheeks and a little bit across the bridge of your nose for that natural, sun-kissed look.

"And finally, the most important part," you say, holding up a sleek tube of lip gloss. "A good lip oil or gloss. I keep about five of these in my bag at all times."

You slick the gloss over your lips, popping them together before smiling at your reflection. The look is complete, radiant, clean, and completely effortless.

"And that is it! My signature everyday glam," you wave cheerfully at the camera as the video begins to wind down. "Thank you so much for watching my beauty secrets, Vogue. Bye guys!"

View 50,303 comments:

Y/nfanpagee: Finally, a GRWM where someone doesn't use fifty different layers of heavy product. This is so refreshing.

amazingzoee_. They look so genuinely happy and peaceful together. This is the sweetest thing ever.🥲

amaraxoxo: We usually only see this man in a tailored suit doing press, and Vogue managed to catch him in bedhead and sweatpants. I am SCREAMINGG.

lovesiic: Ima need a full tour of that bathroom/vanity setup because it looks beautiful😫.

YouTube: just STUNNING.

Itzhallie_:Omg yt what r u doing here.

millieee: LMAOO YALL EVERYWHERE😭

Sarahjanae: Her voice is so soothing, she could honestly start a podcast and I’d listen to every episode.

(　ﾟдﾟ) “what’s ur password?” “Oh, it’s your birthday!” “Aww.. wait what?” 

Content: oblivious!reader || and they were roommates.

Roommate!jaafar masterlist

Jaafar was busy, typing on his laptop while you were in the kitchen cooking up a nice meal for you. You finally decided not to be a bum and just do it. (You thought of the meme ‘do it’ while getting up but that doesn’t matter)

As you poured the rice among the fried chicken, Jaafar called out to you.

“Y/n! Can you open my phone, there’s a code for me.” You hummed and lowered the stove dial.

“Sure! Where is it?”

“On the bar counter!” He yelled from the living room.

You walked over and held the black phone that was his with stickers you put on it due to being bored.

“What’s your password?” You questioned, going to the living room and standing two feet from the brown-skinned male who pauses before saying it out loud.

“Oh, it’s your birthday.” He said with a shy smile, glancing at you.

“Aww!!! …Wait what?” Your face had changed from adoration to shock while you actually put in your birthday. And to your shock, yes it was your birthday.

You blinked, mind reeling across questions as you handed him his phone.

Jaafar gave you a small, “thank you” while you just stood there.

He could’ve had a random passcode, or his birthday as his passcode. Or like some random movie he liked as a passcode even though you didn’t know how that would even work.

And in the back of your mind, you felt a little guilty that you couldn’t have done it first to show appreciation for your roommate.

You walked back to the kitchen to finish your chicken fried rice, not seeing how Jaafar was watching you clearly.

You just didn’t know how important you were to him.

during a michael press tour interview, you find yourself captivated by jaafar jackson’s quiet charm, while jaafar becomes equally drawn to your warmth and brilliance.

the studio lights were warm, the cameras rolling, and your producer was already counting down in your ear.

“and we’re live in three… two…”

your smile came easy.

it always did.

after years of interviewing everyone from actors to politicians to musicians, being on camera felt as natural as breathing. people trusted you. viewers adored you. your podcast segment consistently pulled some of the highest engagement numbers in the industry because people knew one thing:

you actually cared.

Type: One Shot

Genre: smut

Pairing: Jaafar Jackson x Reader

Tags: #Jaafar Jackson, #cheating, #forbidden, #celebrity x reader

Summary: It’s the final wrap party of Michael. You worked hard these past couple of months and excited for the world to see your project. You were always on the outskirts but you contributed like anyone else, you always watched Jaafar from afar but never had an opportunity to speak. One plants itself when you you meet Jaafar on the balcony and hit it off. You take him back to your hotel room only for him to realize you are neighbors and his fiancé is just one wall away.

Your hands land on his shoulders when he pulls you down to his lap. A breath escapes your lips. His name plays on your tongue. Should you stop him ? Or keep going? Your body tells you see what happens. But your mind screams his future wife is on the other side of this wall.

authors note: TW M*ddie mention and cheating.

first jaafar ff kinda nervous 🤭🤭

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

You play with your curls one more time before giving up. It will never sit the way you want it to but you figure it’s alright. No one will be looking that hard.

You’re just an assistant of another assistant.

You go unnoticed 90% of the time.

Tonight you decide to step out of your comfort zone and where something a little more flashy.

A Carolina blue silk cocktail dress with a dangerous slit. A low neckline that you pair with a long gold necklace.

You apply your lipstick one more time, smooth your dress, and spray some perfume.

Nerves sit low in your belly but you do your best to ignore them. It’s just a casual event. Just to bring everyone together one last time before production begins editing. The hard parts are over. All that’s left is editing which is way above your pay grade.

You grab your clutch on your way out the door. One of your last perks of being on the team was that your hotel room was paid for.

You take the elevator to the 16th floor where the event is being hosted. It’s 5:45, there’s about 15 minutes before it’s actually started. But again you are not a main star so there’s no need to show up fashionably late.

You sit in the lobby just before the ballroom and fidget with your hair and makeup. You reapply gloss and crimp your curls. You check your makeup but this lighting does not do you any justice.

After while you just scroll on your phone and wait for the doors to open. After about 20 minutes the doors finally open and a man in all black stands in front.

You hear a crowd of people come and duck in between them. Even though you were the first one to arrive, you find it slightly embarrassing to be the actual first one inside the ballroom.

When you get to the door the man asked for your name, you tell him, and he scans the list searching and when he finds it he gives you a nod. For a second you were worried you didn’t make the cut.

The ballroom is littered with circle tables draped in cream silk. Assortments of flowers don every table. Off to the side there is a long table with finger foods. In the corner there’s a dance floor.

The room fills with overlapping chatter. You take a seat in the back where no name cards are present. You assume it’s for the people like you who were invited but not noticed. Either way you are grateful for the opportunity and a reason to dress up on a random Wednesday evening.

After an hour, you feel comfortable enough to get food. Majority of people who matter are here, even the star himself Jaafar Jackson. Your eyes catch on him from across the room, he looks insanely handsome.

He wears a black suit with a diamond broach to bring the look together. It’s simple but yet so elegant on him. Probably costs more than what you were paid.

You note that he also brings his fiancé. This mystery figure you weren’t even so sure existed. But there she was. Taking up space.

You notice that she doesn’t look to happy with her arms folded and borrows drawn tight.

You take note but move on and get a plate. The portions were so small. You’ll never understand why rich people insist of eating portions of a toddler, regardless you make it back to your seat and people watch.

Your eyes find Jaafar subconsciously, his laugh lights up the room. It’s hard to not be drawn to him. You’ve seen him from afar for years. Even now, he’s there and you are sitting in the back of the room.

You could go talk to him, he’s a nice enough guy who would spare you a couple of words. But your butt is glued to the chair. It’s unfortunate because you think you look pretty tonight.

After another hour or so, you excuse yourself and go to the bathroom to freshen up. On your way back to the ballroom you over hear something. It sounds like an argument.

“I told you, I didn’t want to come but you dragged me here anyways!” A women shouts.

“I know and I’m sorry. But you told me to bring you around more often and…” a man’s voice responds. It’s soft, gentle—familiar.

You realize it’s Jaafar and his fiancé. Should you retreat or stay and listen?

“Not like this. There’s no cameras or paparazzi. No important people to capture us together. This is just a dumb party.” She snaps.

Geez, she must be a joy to be around. You think.

“So what do you want to do?” Jaafar says in a tone you never heard before.

“I’m going back to the room. Call me if anything interesting happens.” She storms away before he can respond.

A heavy sigh expels from deep in his chest as if it had been sitting there all day. You wait for him to walk away before you finally peak out from your hiding spot.

You feel air fill your lungs again, you didn’t realize you had been holding your breath. Before going back to the Ballroom you catch the night bleeding into evening. It’s beautiful, you must take a picture.

For the first time in months you can actually see the stars scattered across the sky. You go to the nearest balcony with your camera out. One last momento to remember your time by. You turn to take a selfie with the sky when you catch a figure in the frame.

“Oh! I’m sorry—I didn’t see you there!” You say quickly.

“No you’re all good.” He says.

It’s Jaafar. Looks like he had the same idea as you.

“I can go,” you offer.

“No. It’s okay. Stay.”

“I wasn’t taking a photo of you—the sunset is very beautiful so,” you stumble. You feel your cheeks getting red.

He laughs. It’s soft and barely audible. But it still makes your stomach flip. Even in the evening light he’s still incredibly handsome.

“I know. Just do your thing.”

“Okay,” you say.

But now you feel self conscious. Your smile doesn’t feel genuine and it’s weird posing in front of people.

You give up and sigh.

“Would you like me to take a picture for you?” He asks.

“Oh-uh sure,” you murmur.

He walks closer, each step like a knife to your heart. Your heart pumps so fast you might just faint.

Pull yourself together! It’s just a photo! You tell yourself.

You hand him your phone and your fingers brush past each other in an electric moment.

You try to ignore it to stop your cheeks from reddening.

You lean on the railing with a slight smile, only hoping that you don’t look like a total idiot.

“1..2..3..1..2..3” he says before handing the phone back.

“Thanks.”

You don’t even bother looking at the photos because you feel like they didn’t turn out good. How could it when your mind was going a mile a minute.

“Of course,” he says. After a beat he continues, “are you here for the Michael party?”

“Yeah, you? Wait—I mean—“

He laughs, “yeah me too.”

“I didn’t mean. I already knew that.”

God girl, you are not playing it cool.

You clear your voice, “I’m sure everyone tells you this, but you did phenomenal.”

“Thank you.”

There’s a silence between you and you don’t know if you should break it or just go back to the party. You look out at the sky for any answers but find nothing.

Luckily for you, he does.

“Are you here as crew or a plus one?” He finally says.

“Crew,” you respond.

“Oh really? What’s your job.”

“Officially? I’m just an assistant but in reality I’m whatever they tell me I am that day,” You say truthfully.

“Yep, it’s pretty demanding job,” he agrees.

“Not as demanding as yours, I’m sure.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. I can’t do my job if it wasn’t for you.”

“Thank you…”

“Of course.”

All of the sudden the skill of communicating with others gone down the drain because silence engulfs the two of you once again.

You’re usually not like this, but yet again you don’t usually talk to Jaafar Jackson of all people.

“I like your dress.” He breaks the silence again.

“Really?” You smooth the fabric.

“Yeah. The color is very eye catching. I noticed it in the ballroom.”

“Thank you,” you say not knowing what to do with the knowledge that Jaafar Jackson: one complimented you, and two noticed you before you ever spoke.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you return the compliment back. A smile creeps up your lips. You feel your cheeks heat and let the rosiness win. If you blush, so be it. It’s not like you will see him again after this anyways.

“Why thank you,” he says.

This time, when silence falls it’s not awkward or still. It’s electric and exists in a moment where you two lock eyes. It’s charged and uncharted. Your heart beat drowns out the ocean in the distance.

Your eyes trace the lines of his face from his curled hair to his fish like ears. Your throat drys when your eyes meet his lips.

You realize it’s not just you, and you see his eyes drop to where your leg peaks from the slit. He bites his lip before flicking his eyes to meet yours.

“I guess… it’s time to go back. I’m sure everyone is looking for you,” you breathlessly say.

“Or…everyone can assume I left with Maddie. And I follow you to your room so we can..talk more,” he offers.

His words are golden and dripped in sweet honey. You’d be a fool to pass on it.

“Okay,” you agree.

He gestures for you to lead the way. And you do, your mind spinning. Is this actually happening or? What ever this is or what ever is to happen you vow to keep it in the closet.

You call for the elevator, skin buzzing with anticipation. Every step to get to your room felt like an out of body experience, as if you were watching someone else instead of you.

You guide him down the hall.

“This is me,” you tell him.

His face hardens. Your fantasy instantly shatters. Reality must’ve hit him.

“Is..everything alright?” You pry. Your tone light.

“Yeah. Yeah. It’s just, my room,” he lowers his voice, “my room is right there.” He points the one door down.

Your heart drops to your stomach.

“Oh!”

“Just means, we are going to have to be quiet,” he takes your key card and reaches over you to open the door.

He playfully pushes you into your room.

It’s slightly messy. You’d clean it up if you knew you were going to have guest. But like who could’ve guessed he was going to come in your room. Regardless you apologize for the mess anyways.

He tells you it’s fine as he takes off his suit jacket to reveal, an off white button up that strains against hard muscle.

You throat dries but your core not so much.

“Would you like something to drink?” You offer just to fill the silence.

“I’m good. Thank you.” He rejects politely. He takes a seat on one of the chairs by the door.

You just stand by, playing with one of your bangles.

What do you do with a boy in your room?

Well, you can think of many things you want to do but you aren’t too sure that’s what he’s on. Because he is engaged.

Right. He’s engaged.

The horned fog clears from your mind. You remember the argument from earlier and realize maybe he just wants a listening ear.

“I heard a bit of you and your fiancé argument earlier…is everything alright?” You keep your words light and not too pushy.

“You heard that?” He sinks in on yourself.

“Yeah..”

He sighs then rakes his hands down his face.

“Sometimes she’s impossible to please,” he admits. “She’s asking for so much and I can’t do everything she asks.”

“That seems pretty rough but I see you are trying your best,” you offer. It’s the best you can come up, you aren’t really trained in celebrity couple consoling.

“Yeah well my best isn’t enough for her these days.”

You grab his hands in support instinct fully.

“I’m sorry—“

You go to remove your hands but he catches your wrist. It’s small in his hand, and his warmth envelops you. Leaving you still. Electricity shots from where your hands meet.

He pulls you closer, his eyes look up at you and your core flutters. This close you can smell his cologne, and catch how slow his chest rises and falls.

Your hands land on his shoulders when he pulls you down to his lap. A breath escapes your lips. His name plays on your tongue. Should you stop him ? Or keep going? Your body tells you see what happens. But your mind screams his future wife is on the other side of this wall.

Your bed frame probably shares the same wall as hers.

Your faces hover dangerously close, you feel his nose graze yours. You feel this magnetic force between his lips and yours. They beg to connect. He takes a hand to slip one of your fallen curls behind your ear. It’s gentle and so domestic.

Your eyes watch his lips, they are red and look beyond soft. You inch your head closer to his, he smirks before finally pressing his lips to yours. It’s soft and barely anything. His eyes search yours for any hesitation and when he finds none, he comes back a little harder this time.

His lips parts yours in a swift moment. His hands find their way to your neck, and squeeze just enough to feel something. Your hands grab at his collar.

His thumb brushes over your skin, soft and sends tingles throughout your body.

Jaafar gets greedier and takes more from you. Pressing hard, exploring your mouth and body. You moan against his lips as you try to keep up with his pace.

Your chest burns deliciously from the lack of air. You grab his face tighter for support. He shifts you to straddle him in one swift move. It was like you were weightless.

This deepens the kiss. The air fills with the pop of lips and heavy breaths and nasty panting. Your hips begin to roll against his crotch searching for any friction. He grabs your ass in a tight squeeze that elicits a low groan from you.

His huge hands explore your body, touching and grabbing wherever they could. You reciprocate it with your own hands that undo the buttons of his shirt. Which exposes warm tough skin. He looks just like you imagine. Toned and muscular.

He smirks at your reaction to his body before his huge hand grab your face into another intoxicating kiss.

At some point the chair becomes to limiting, and he decides to take the both of you to the bed. He lifts you like you are a paper bag and gently places you on the bed.

You watch as he removes his shirt. You squeeze your legs to ease the building pressure. You need him badly.

He notices your dire situation and joins you on the bed, spreading your legs open. He trails soft kisses up your inner thigh. Each kiss setting small fires, each kiss settling on sensitive skin. Your toes curls the closer he gets to your needing core.

“Is this okay?” He asks through batted lashes.

He’s between your legs, on the teeter of your unraveling. Yes it beyond okay!

“Mhm,” you murmur.

“I need a yes or no,” he pushes, his voice gentle yet firm.

“Yes,” you breathe. Anything to make him touch you again.

“Good girl,” he says and it floods your basement.

Jaafar spreads your legs even wider, leaving you exposed and vulnerable. He pulls your panties to the side to expose your pulsing and swollen clit. The slight brush of his knuckles almost sends you over the end.

You are so sensitive and aching a simple breeze might just make you climax.

Your breathing is uneven as you watch him tease you.

He places the softest kisses around your clit, soft licks here and there. It take all your control to not grab him by the head and shove your pussy in his mouth.

“Jaafar…” you whine.

Your hips rock against his face. He finally stops teasing and tastes you fully. His warm and wet tongue swipes against your clit. Each swipe sets your neurons on fire. At first it’s slow but as your moans increase so does his tempo. He licks and sucks like a starved man.

“Jaafar!” You moan.

“Shh! Remember who’s next door,” he teases. “You don’t want us to get caught, do you?”

“N-no,” you reply, though you are not sure if it was in your head or out loud.

You can help anymore and you begin riding his face. His groans and moans vibrate in your core sensing waves of sensation. Making you arch your back.

Your hips begin to buckle in the telltale sign of an approaching orgasm. His grip on your hips becomes piercing as he holds you still, your struggles feeble. A nasty orgasm through you in repeating waves. Your arousal squirts across his face. And a guttural moan escaped your throat despite trying to contain it. It’s loud and long.

Your body vibrates and shakes as the after effects flow through you. Your clit still pulsing and sensitive.

Jaafar lips drag up your stomach to your neck, biting, sucking then leaving butterfly kisses to soothe. He attacks the most sensitive part of your neck. How he knows your body so well is beyond you but all you do know is that you don’t want it to stop.

His other hand slips between your legs, soothing your swollen clit, making you twitch each time his fingers come into connect with it. He then slips two fingers at the entrance and presses gently. You do your best to relax and make way for him. Two long thick fingers slide against your walls.

Jaafar attacks you from all over. His lips on your neck and breasts, and his hands inside your body slowly massaging your g-spot.

Your moans increase each time he hits that spot.

“Shh,” he reminds you again.

But you take it as a suggestion rather than an order.

“Be quiet,” he warns. Menace drips into his words.

But how can he ask you to be quiet while he finger fucks you into oblivion.

“I—“ you breathe, “I can’t.”

“Try harder,” he bites hard on your neck.

You moan louder as another orgasm hits you.

“This won’t do.” He says after removing his fingers from inside of you. He walks over to his discarded clump of clothes.

He picks up his tie, sits on the edge of the bed then lifts your head up. He wraps the tie around your mouth.

“Maybe this will help,” he says then kisses where your lips would be.

He strips completely nude. Your eyes catch on his long, thick, and pulsing cock. Suddenly glad for the gag over your mouth.

He aligns himself with you.

“I’ll be gentle I promise,” he kisses your cheek.

He grabs on thigh as leverage and presses slowly into you. You clutch around him on instinct which elicits a hiss from him. Do your best to welcome him in but the pressure is intense.

His hips rock slowly back and forth, slowly loosing you up for more.

“You’re doing so well,” he tells you through gritted teeth.

You moan against the restraints.

After a while, he can finally pick up the pace. The rhythm he settles for his smooth and sensual. The tip of his cock grazes your g-spot with each slow withdrawal and reentrance. You hips match his, as you ride the pleasure.

Each thrust loosens the tie around your mouth and your moans escape into the air.

“We can’t have that,” he spots. Flips you on your stomach and ties it even tighter this time.

Now he drives into you from the back, the head board bangs against the wall. He throws a pillow in the space to drown it out.

You burry your face in a pillow to drown out your own screams. The tie is not enough. How could it be when he’s drilling into with the force of a tidal wave.

Even if your moans are muffled, the sound of skin smacking and rhythmic bed squeaks fill the room. If she doesn’t comprehend what’s going on she’s a fool.

It’s so fucked up in a way that turns you on even more. You take pride in knowing that she must have an idea of what’s going on over here, just not of who.

When you lift your head, the tie slips again but you bite down on your lips to keep quiet.

He flips you around again to lock lips. Your fingers tangle as his hips rock into you. He kisses you with the passion of lovers on their honeymoon.

Your tongues lock and swirl. Your teeth clash, and your lips mush together in a sloppy mess. It’s unclear where you start and he begins.

Apart of you wonders if he’s this friendly with every girl he meets on a balcony.

But who cares? He’s in your guts right now. When he could be in hers. But instead she’s on the other side of the wall, possibly hearing this sinful symphony.

It feels like hours or maybe days but the two of you just can’t get enough of each other. It’s like you were made for one another.

You get on top and finally ride you both into your bone crushing orgasm. Your vision goes electric white and thick hot ropes paint your insides. You feel your arousal dripping between your bodies. You both release moans fill the space where the aggressive pounding held.

Your final orgasm is more satisfying than the others. It’s all consuming and brutal. You don’t know who you are anymore.

You slump on top of Jaafar who cuddles you close. You breathe in his natural smell and it grounds you. You slowly come back to earth. Your breaths catches up with your heart.

Most of all the reality of your situation hits you. You on top of Jaafar Jackson. His clothes mixed with yours scattered on the floor. Again, you on top of Jaafar Jackson, who is engaged but also your coworker!

“I…” you try to say. You want to say something but there are no words that can capture what you’re feeling.

“Yeah,” he mirrors.

You two lay in each other for another 30 minutes before he peals himself from you. He collects his clothes and heads to use your bathroom.

After another 30 minutes, he comes back, looking way more presentable than he had half an hour before. But you can still see the reminisce of you all over him. In the slight red marks on his neck, or how wrinkly his shirt is and in his swollen lips.

“I would love to see you again,” he starts, “but—“

“But this was a one time thing,” you finish for him.

“It’s just with the circumstances…You know I’m—“ He scratches his head.

“Engaged,” you finish again.

“Yeah…”

You both look at each other because that’s all you can do. One night isn’t going to convince him to leave his fiancé and one night isn’t enough for you to considering going through that drama too.

Although it was one beautiful, wonderful, incredible night.

It seems he agrees and leaves you with one more long kiss that screams goodbye.

Maybe you’ll see him again. Maybe you won’t. Either way he leaves with a soft click, as if he was never here at all.