SYNOPSIS: jaafar asks you for help with his unreleased song and you agree, of course. upon listening, you find that it's a great song though you do believe that there's something missing. the yearning, specifically.
CONTENT: fluff i guess, tensionnnn, angst if you squint (?), reader is a producer, they're both idiots and are just dancing around each other
AUTHOR'S NOTE: THIS IS SO BUNS LMAOOO ive been going through a fucking tiiiiime this past week and i wrote this in attempts to distract myself from what's going on in my life but i did get this idea when i saw that video of jaafar in the studio playing his unreleased song i think it was 'shut the lights off' iirc but i could be wrong, i just thought this would be a cute concept. i also have ZERO knowledge about producing and recording studios in general so please bear with the inaccuracies because im sure there are some if not plenty. this is also not proofread so :)))
WORD COUNT: 1,700
"Can you play that again?"
Jaafar hits a button with his index finger, watching you in anticipation as his voice, backed by a sweet and sensual melody, plays through the studio speakers. He had asked you, his best friend who also happened to be a talented and skilled producer, to listen to and critique one of his unfinished songs. He knew you to be very meticulous about your work, often spending hours and hours in the studio to perfect even just a few seconds of a piece. He trusted you more than anyone when it comes to his songs.
He watches as you furrow your brows, nipping on the nail of your thumb as you listened. Truthfully, he was slightly intimidated by how you look right now. Focused, absorbed, intent. It was almost like watching an entirely different person to him. It makes him a little skittish as he waits for your reaction. You sigh and rest your cheek against your palm, pouting slightly. It seemed like you were deep in thought and the anticipation is almost killing him. He sighs, pausing the track and calling your name, "You're not helping."
You snort, a smile making its way onto your lips. "I was listening, Jaafar."
"Well can you at least tell me what you think? I'm dying over here." He leans back against his chair, running a hand through his short curls.
"I think it's good!" you say as you shrug. But Jaafar knows you better than to just take that as it is. He knows you're not lying, but he also knows that you're holding back just based off of the way you looked listening to the song just a few seconds ago.
He tilts his head, "But...?"
You chuckle, nibbling slightly on your bottom lip. "But I do think it's missing something." Upon hearing that, Jaafar sighs, nodding. He certainly did agree with you on that. It's one of the reasons why he came to you for help in the first place, because he couldn't pinpoint what exactly sounded wrong.
"Yeah, that's what I thought too but I couldn't figure out what it is..." He says, his thumb coming up to rub against his lower lip.
You hum, leaning back against your seat. "Can we listen to it again?"
At your request, Jaafar obliges, pressing the button to play the track once more. The two of you tune in as the room fills with the melody. It was a slow song. Intimate. Sensual. It paints a picture about a girl he saw in a more passionate sense. How he wanted to spend every day of his life with her and how he wanted more of her in every aspect. It's beautiful. Romantic even. But still, he knew there was something that he needed to add to it to make it even better.
When you suddenly snap your fingers, Jaafar breaks out of focus and presses a button to pause the song. "I got it," you say, the corner of your mouth quirking up as you look at him with a look of realization.
He gives you a questioning look. "What?"
"You're not yearning enough."
He pauses for a second, "Like... lyrically? Or...?"
You sit forward on your seat. "No, no... like in your voice. There's not enough yearning or... ah- fuck, how do I say this?" He watches as you pout, brows furrowing as you struggle to organize your thoughts. He smiles a little. He kind of found it cute whenever you're focused and concentrated on something.
Eventually, you gather your thoughts and start speaking almost animatedly, waving your hands around to further express yourself, much to his amusement. "So, it's a song about a girl you like, right? I think the lyrics are nice and convey your want for her really well. Your vocals are, of course, amazing but... I feel like you need to be a little more… whiny... beggy? Is- is that a word? Sort of like you're directly facing her and asking or- or begging- yearning for her affection, you know what I mean?"
Jaafar tilts his head in slight confusion, “I think so…?”
“Think ‘The Lady in my Life’.”
At that, his mouth turns into an ‘o’ once he realizes what you meant. He nods in understanding and moves to rise up from his seat. “So, I should re-record it then, huh?” He looks down at you from where he stood, stretching his back out as he’d gotten stiff from sitting in a chair for a long time.
You nod and tilt your head towards the recording booth. “Go for it. Get in there.”
He hums and starts walking towards the booth. Once he gets there, he shuts the door behind him and walks over to the mic, putting on his headphones. There’s a slight nervousness in his movements. He’s never recorded anything in front of you before and it was a little daunting to him. He admired you and valued your opinion a lot and it gives him the jitters just knowing that you’re listening and watching him from behind the screen.
“I’ve never recorded anything in front of you before,” he speaks into the mic.
He watches as you smile, pressing a button to speak to him over the speakers in the booth. “Well, there’s a first for everything.”
“Kinda nervous.”
You snort. “Why? It’s just me.”
He bites his lip, looking down shyly. He can’t say it out loud, but that’s exactly the reason why he’s nervous. Because it’s you. And it’s not just because he knows how talented you are at your work and how intimidating you can be when you’re in the studio. But it’s also—mostly really—because he’s had feelings for you for a long time now. Hell, the song he just played for you was only one of many that he had written in the middle of the night with you as his main inspiration.
And as if you’ve read his mind, you ask, “Who’s the song even about? You never tell me anything.”
Jaafar pauses immediately as his mind scrambles for excuses to say something. Anything.
“Ah… you know… just a girl I like…”
“And this girl is…?” You question as you press around the soundboard, turning knobs here and there as you adjust the settings for his mic.
He clears his throat, his nerves now at full blast. Should he just tell her? Right here?
“Uh… actually she’s-”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter. Just think about her when you’re singing.”
He sighs and silently thanks the gods above when you steer the topic away. Still, he snorts a little at what you said. “I’ve been thinking about her since I first wrote it.”
You look up at him through the glass and raise a brow, a smile tugging at your lips. “Well, do it more. Act like she’s right in front of you right now, watching you.”
He licks his lips and laughs slightly at the irony of it all. “Got it.”
He honestly can’t believe how oblivious you are to the way he felt for you. He’s always been more attentive, more caring, and more affectionate when it comes to you. It confuses him a little because in his mind, you only saw him as a friend. But there are times when it felt like you actually might have felt the same way.
Sometimes he’d notice that you leaned into his affection. Like whenever he’d place an arm around your shoulders during movie nights, you had no problem resting your head against his chest. Or when he’d come over when you’re sick and you’d ask him to hold you which he, of course, would always agree to. There was even once a time where after a long night in the studio with him, you both fell asleep on the couch with his arm around you and your face buried in his chest.
It was odd, really. But he always just put it down to you being a more affectionate person than most. He didn’t want to get his hopes up for nothing, after all.
Before you press the button to play the track, you look at him again. “Remember Jaafar, yearn.”
He hums and nods. “Mhm, gotcha.”
“Think like you’re begging for her.”
“Yup.”
“And don’t think about the technicalities too much-”
He cuts you off by saying your name. Chuckling, he says, “I think I got it.”
You smile at him, nodding. Then you play the track.
When the intro plays through his headphones, he clears his throat and closes his eyes, a habit he usually does when he’s recording by himself to focus. To imagine. To picture you there with him. But when he realizes that you’re actually watching him now, he gathers up his courage and opens his eyes, looking directly into yours.
The cue comes and he sings.
Not once does he break eye contact and neither do you. He knows he could never actually tell you what he truly felt. Not anytime soon, at least. So, he takes this opportunity to sing to you. Sing the lyrics that he wrote specifically for you.
For a moment, it felt like everything around him disappeared. It wasn’t about recording the song or trying to perfect his vocals anymore. It was about him showing his vulnerability to you. Exposing his feelings for you. He knows this probably won’t lead to anything more but in this moment, he wanted to feel everything and let it out. Maybe you’ll feel it too, maybe you won’t. But nonetheless, he gives his all up until the very last second of the track.
When the music fades, there’s a silence for a while. The two of you just staring at each other. Your mouth is slightly parted, seemingly lost in the moment.
Jaafar speaks up, “…How was that?”
It was you who breaks eye contact first, looking down at the soundboard as you let out a breath. You don’t say anything immediately and he notices how you took a few seconds for yourself before your hand moved to press the button to communicate to him over the speakers.
❛ ex!jaafar jackson 𝑥 𝒻 black woc!reader ❜ ╱ 𝓶.list 𓂋 college au . crackish . smau . past relationship . alpha phi alpha!jaafar . both reader and jaafar are juniors in college . mention of underage ? drinking . angst . bantering . j wants you back . you're just a little mean .
mari speaks. pls pls pls give me feedback. this is my first time posting a smau/texting au on here so please be kind to me. this also may or may not be a teaser for a new series i'm planning out rn (˶˃ᆺ˂˶)
summary: Boredom strikes at the same time, and what better way to cure it than with a little one-on-one basketball? (even if you hate the sport)
warnings/content: profanities, touchy! maj and a very in-denial reader 😬
a/n: ngl this one had me giggling a bit. hope you guys like it!
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"Maj, where are you taking me?" You asked as you took your place in the passenger seat of his car and buckled your seatbelt. "It's almost midnight."
Jermajesty slid onto the driver's seat and started the engine with a smug grin. "You'll see, pretty."
"Maj," you whined, making him look at you with a soft smile. "Mama, you were the one who said you'll die from boredom."
"Okay, what are we going to do then? Don't fucking tell me we'll spend the night in your car."
"Mm, actually—"
"Oh God," you rolled your eyes in realization. "Forget I said that! Can you just tell me where we're going?"
His gaze turned back towards the road as he drove, the late night providing little-to-no traffic in the area. "What's the magic word?"
"I'll choke you right now, Jermajesty."
"Ooh, you freaky." He lifted one shoulder in a playful shrug. You looked at him dead in the eye before slapping his arm, earning a shriek from him. "Aye! I'm driving, woman! Stop that—"
"Tell me where we're going, Jermajesty!" You continued hitting his arm, occasionally throwing in a few pinches while a smile threatened to show up on your face.
"You'll see when we get there!"
"Man, you're so annoying."
The moment you climbed out of the passenger seat, your eyes landed on the deserted neighborhood park bathed in the soft glow of flickering streetlights. Empty swings swayed lazily in the breeze, and the tiny playground sat abandoned, its bright colors dulled beneath the night sky. You slowly turned to look at him, narrowing your eyes.
"You were acting all mysterious the whole drive," you scoffed, folding your arms across your chest. "And all this time you were just taking me to a children's park?"
Jermajesty leaned against the driver's door with an infuriatingly pleased grin stretched across his face. "You're cute when you're pissed, pretty."
He shot you a wink before strolling toward the trunk of his car as though he hadn't just wasted the last twenty minutes building suspense. The trunk popped open with a click, and after rummaging around for a second, he pulled out a worn orange basketball.
You stared at it. Then at him. "Oh, hell no."
"What?" he asked, blinking at you with the most exaggerated look of innocence you'd ever seen. "Why're you looking at me like that?"
Your jaw dropped. "Jermajesty..." You pointed accusingly at the basketball in his hand. "You took me here to play basketball?"
His grin widened until it was practically splitting his face. "Ding, ding, ding!" he announced, spinning the ball effortlessly on one finger before catching it against his hip. "My little genius strikes again."
The trunk slammed shut with a loud thud that echoed through the otherwise silent neighborhood. You groaned so dramatically your head tipped back toward the sky. "You've got to be kidding me."
Before you could protest any further, Jermajesty closed the distance between you, laughing under his breath as he ruffled your hair until it was a complete mess. You swatted uselessly at his hand, only for him to slip his free arm around your waist, steering you along with him.
"Jermajesty," you whined, digging your heels into the pavement in a pathetic attempt to slow him down. "I do not like basketball."
"Oh, come on." He barely acknowledged your resistance, dragging you along as if you weighed nothing. The neighborhood court came into view just beyond the playground, its chain-link fence casting long shadows beneath the overhead lights. "You used to play volleyball."
"Exactly," you shot back. "Volleyball."
"Ball's still involved."
"They are completely different sports."
"They both require athleticism."
"They require different kinds of athleticism."
He snorted. "You're just making up excuses now."
"I am not! Basketball is all running and dribbling and people yelling in your face."
"And volleyball isn't?"
"At least I don't have someone trying to steal the ball every five seconds. And! You don’t dribble a fucking volleyball–"
Jermajesty laughed. "You'll survive, pretty."
You shot him the flattest look you could manage, crossing your arms over your chest. "Just a few games," he bargained, stepping in front of you before you could make another attempt at escaping. The basketball found its way beneath his arm as he looked down at you, the playful grin softening into something almost pleading. "That's it. If you still hate it afterward, we'll leave."
You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. "'A few games,'" you repeated. "I swear." He lifted a hand dramatically. "Scout's honor."
"Were you even a scout?"
"...Irrelevant. Now, come on, pretty. The ball isn’t going to shoot itself.” He dragged you to the center of the court and handed you the ball. “I’ll start with the basics. Just shooting, yeah?” You spun the basketball awkwardly between your palms, already grimacing at the unfamiliar texture. “ You can do it. Would you rather sit back at home and die of boredom?”
You glared at him once again before shaking your head in reply. Smiling at your response, he nodded once at the ball then at you, giving you an encouraging smile.
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"No, don't palm it," he said, gently nudging your fingers farther apart. "Let the ball rest on your fingertips." He laughed as he saw you roll your eyes, shaking his head before taking a step back.
"Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees a little." You let him adjust your position, reluctantly following every instruction he gave you. “Good girl.”
Fuck.
Your fingers gripped the ball in your hands even tighter at the praise he gave you, making you slightly panic inside. You haven’t even done anything yet here he was saying those kinds of shit to you, unaware of the chaos he created in your mind.
“Eyes on the basket. Elbow in. Then push up and flick your wrist." You exhaled dramatically enough to earn another laugh before following his instructions as best you could. Your knees bent, your arms lifted, and with far more effort than necessary, you launched the ball into the air.
The ball hit the front rim of the ring with a loud clang, the rebound instantly flying back toward you in a second. You caught it with a loud grunt and shoved the ball into his arms. “There,” you said flatly. “I played basketball.”
“Ma, the ball didn’t even go in– Come on, just a few more tries. I know you want to– your inner competitiveness can’t handle not being able to shoot the ball. Please, sweetheart?”
There it is again. Those pet names he’d call you, completely and utterly clueless to how your heart skips a beat every time he calls you something new. Jermajesty snorted at you frozen in place and effortlessly tossed the ball back to you with an underhand pass. He nodded toward the hoop, “Again.”
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After half an hour, he still managed to convince you to keep trying. With the enthusiasm of someone walking to their own execution, you lifted the ball and shot. This one hit the backboard, then the rim, then bounced away entirely. A long, defeated groan escaped you as you let yourself collapse backward onto the concrete, arms spread wide like you'd just lost the championship game instead of missing what had to be your tenth shot of the night.
"I can't do this anymore," you declared to the stars above. "Tell my family I loved them."
Jermajesty's laughter echoed around the empty court, loud enough that you were certain the neighbors could hear. He doubled over, one hand braced against his knee while the other clutched at his stomach "Don't be so dramatic," he managed between laughs. "That was progress! It almost went in."
You propped yourself up onto your elbows, shooting him the flattest look you could manage.
"I think I'd rather just watch you play basketball than play it myself."
His laughter gradually subsided, though the grin lingering on his face refused to leave. "You giving up already?"
You wiped the sweat off your forehead with the back of your palm and grimaced. “I’m sweating so much, Maj. I do not like sweating–”
He shook his head, amusement dancing in his eyes as he walked over to retrieve the ball. "Fine," he relented, tucking it beneath his arm. "You can sit there and judge me from the sidelines."
"Oh, trust me," you replied, scooting over until your back rested against the fence surrounding the court. You pulled one knee up to your chest, resting your chin on top of it. "I fully intend to."
He pointed a finger at you. "If you wanna sub in, just say the word, a'ight?"
You waved him off lazily. “Break a leg or whatever.”
With a chuckle, Jermajesty jogged toward the top of the key, dribbling the ball with the kind of effortless rhythm that made it seem like it belonged in his hands.
At first, you only watched because there wasn't much else to do. Then... you actually started paying attention.
The ball moved with him as if it were attached by an invisible string, bouncing cleanly between his hands while he weaved across the court without a second thought. Every movement looked natural.
Nothing but net.
“Hm,” you hummed to yourself. Lucky shot.
As if hearing the thought from across the court, he retrieved the ball and launched another from even farther back.
Swish. Then another. Then another.
… Okay, maybe not luck.
After shooting another shot, he glanced back at you with his hands on his waist. “You good there, bro?” he asked, slightly out of breath. You nodded your head in response and gave him a thumbs up.
Soon after, he jogged up to you with that smug grin on his face. You gave him his water bottle and handed him his hand towel.
He quietly thanked you as he took the bottle from your hands and took big gulps of water to quench his thirst.
And of fucking course you couldn’t help but notice the way his adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each gulp he took, or the beads of sweat clung onto his face and dripped down towards his neck, or the way the veins in his hands and arms seemed to look more obvious now–
What the fuck were you thinking?!
Jermajesty finished off the last few gulps of water before wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead from running up and down the court, and with a quiet exhale, he tugged the hem of his hoodie over his head, revealing the plain black T-shirt he'd been wearing underneath.
"Man," he muttered, raking a hand through his now-messy hair. "Way too hot for this."
Without a second thought, he walked over and draped the hoodie across your shoulders. "There," he said, giving the top of your head a light pat. "Hold onto that for me."
The fabric was still warm from his body, carrying the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the crisp smell of laundry detergent. You instinctively pulled it a little closer around yourself before realizing what you were doing, quickly forcing your hands back into your lap as though you'd been caught red-handed.
Jermajesty, thankfully, seemed none the wiser. "You good, bro?"
Your heart skipped so abruptly it almost annoyed you. You cleared your throat and gave him a quick, almost mechanical nod. "Yeah."
He tilted his head, clearly not buying the one-word answer.
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
Before he could study you any longer, you deliberately turned your attention toward the opposite end of the court, pretending to be fascinated by absolutely nothing in particular. It was easier than risking another glance at him.
You tried your best to not look back at him as he jogged back towards the court, ball dribbling between his hands. But alas, the urge to look was stronger than any logical reason you could come up with.
Your gaze followed him as he moved around the court. Even from where you sat, you could see the rise and fall of his chest as he caught his breath between possessions, strands of dark hair falling across his forehead before he absentmindedly brushed them back.
Your eyes widened as he lifted the end of his shirt, using it to wipe the sweat off from his forehead and revealing his toned stomach.
You’ve seen him shirtless before, you reminded yourself. How is this any different? He’s not even shirtless right now! Stop freaking out.
You clicked your tongue and looked away.
Then a few seconds later, you looked back. Your eyes lingered a little longer this time, tracing the easy confidence in the way he carried himself, the relaxed smile that appeared whenever he made a shot—
“Caught you.” Jermajesty stood at the free-throw line with the basketball tucked against his hip, a knowing grin stretching across his face.
"What?"
"You've been staring," he replied.
"I have not."
"You have." He dropped the basketball down and walked towards you. In just seven long strides, he was already in front of you. Heat threatened to creep into your face, but you refused to give him the satisfaction.
"You've got a pretty high opinion of yourself."
He tilted his head in an agonizing pace, a smirk already plastered on his face. “Is that so?” His arms found its way around your waist, his hands already tracing the outline of your curves with ease.
Your breath hitched as he pulled you closer with a gentle tug. “What’s wrong, mama?” he taunted, his voice barely above a whisper as he leaned his face closer to yours.
“Hands off, Maj,” you mentally punched yourself at the sound of your voice betraying you, amusing Jermajesty even more.
“Okay,” he complied instantly, retreating his hands back towards his side but the effect he had on you was still there. He was still there, not moving an inch. He still towered over you, his scent filling the air around you. “So?”
“So, what?” You asked, still rooted in your place despite your entire nervous system screaming at you to back away.
“Are you going to admit that you were staring at me? It’s okay if you were, you know–”
You faked a gag and crossed your arms over your chest. “Gross, why would I be staring at you? There’s nothing to look at.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. He took a step forward, making you back up until the back of your legs hit a metal bench. “You’re a really bad liar, y/n.” he chuckled.
The way he said your voice gave you goosebumps and you hated every second of it. “Shut up, Jermajesty.”
“Make me.” Before you could reply, his hand reached out to cup the side of your face, making your voice instantly die in your throat. Every ounce of composure you’ve tried to muster was now useless as you watched him lean in and felt his touch against your face, tracing your jawline and hooking one finger under your chin to make you look up at him.
“Jer–”
“Shh.”
Your breath caught.
The space between you shrank inch by inch as he leaned closer, and your eyes fluttered shut on instinct. Then—
Rain came crashing down in thick, relentless sheets, drumming against the pavement so loudly it drowned out everything else. It soaked through your clothes almost instantly, cold enough to pull a sharp gasp from your lips.
Jermajesty froze. "...You've got to be fucking kidding me."
You blinked your eyes open just as another wave of rain pelted the two of you. His hair was plastered to his forehead now, water dripping from the tip of his nose while his T-shirt darkened within moments.
For one long beat, neither of you moved.
Then you burst into laughter. Not a quiet giggle, but the kind that doubled you over, the kind you couldn't stop even if you wanted to.
Jermajesty stared at you in disbelief. "Seriously?" he said, wiping rain from his eyes. "You're laughing?"
"You should see your face!" you managed between laughs. "My face?" He gestured wildly at you. "Look at yourself!" You glanced down at your now completely drenched clothes before looking back at him.
That only made you laugh harder. He tried to hold onto his mock-annoyed expression, but after a few seconds, it cracked. A reluctant chuckle escaped him, followed by another, until the two of you were standing in the middle of the empty basketball court laughing beneath the pouring rain like a pair of idiots.
“So much for basketball," you said, pushing your rain-soaked hair away from your face.
"So much for..." He paused, clearing his throat awkwardly before waving a hand. "Whatever that was."
A knowing smile tugged at your lips. "You mean when you told me to 'shh'?"
He looked away with a shy smile. "I don't recall."
"Liar."
"Can't prove it."
Before you could fire back another retort, another crack of thunder echoed overhead, followed by a gust of chilly wind that made you instinctively wrap your arms around yourself. Jermajesty's smile faded almost immediately.
Without saying a word, he reached over and grabbed the hoodie you'd been sitting on earlier to keep it dry beneath the covered bench. Despite the rain soaking everything else, the inside was still mostly warm.
"Arms up."
You blinked. "What?"
"Arms."
Still processing, you slowly lifted them. Jermajesty stepped closer, gently shaking the hoodie open before guiding one sleeve over your arm, then the other. His fingers brushed your wrists as he tugged the fabric into place, careful not to snag your damp hair beneath the collar.
"There," he murmured, smoothing the hood against your shoulders before zipping it halfway up. "Better."
You opened your mouth to argue but he beat you to it, already grabbing his things and running back towards you. “C’mon, pretty,” he held his hand out and this time, you didn’t hesitate to lace your fingers with his.
The rain continued to pour as the two of you sprinted toward the parking lot, your laughter mixing with the rhythmic splashes of your footsteps through puddles. By the time you reached the car, both of you were completely drenched anyway, breathing hard between fits of laughter.
Jermajesty unlocked the doors with a triumphant click. "Ladies first." You climbed into the passenger seat, pulling his hoodie tighter around yourself as the warmth trapped inside the fabric slowly chased away the chill.
A moment later, he slid into the driver's seat, shaking the rain from his hair before glancing over at you. “I hope I was able to cure your boredom tonight, ma.”
You looked back up at him, warming your hands with your breath as you chuckled. “Yeah– you did, Maj. Very interesting night.”
He took your hand and kissed it before starting the car as if the gesture he did didn’t just melt you into place. “Let’s get you home.”
dad!jermajesty where reader goes into labor in the middle of the night
it’s time
summary: after going four days past her due date, you finally goes into labor in the middle of the night
contains: established relationship, fluf, jerdad, labor and child birth
notes: more baby fever for yall 😚
you were officially four days past your due date and at first, you weren’t too worried. everyone kept saying first babies came late, and you figured your daughter was just getting comfortable.
that confidence disappeared after your appointment doctor had smiled sympathetically before saying, “you’re still nowhere near dilated.”
ever since then, you had been determined to convince your stubborn baby to make her grand entrance. in evening, Jermajesty walked laps around the neighborhood with you while you balanced on the edge of the curb, arms stretched out for balance. he never let you go too far without holding your hand, terrified you’d trip. by the time you got home, he’d sit on the floor beside your yoga ball, timing you as you bounced and rolled your hips for nearly an hour.
“come on, princess,” he’d mumble to your stomach every night. “daddy’s got your nursery ready and mommy’s tired”
nothing worked…until onight.
1:57 A.M.
a dull ache in your lower back pulled you awake, you slowly sat up, pressing a hand against your stomach as another wave of pressure settled low in your pelvis.
“…Jayda baby don’t play with me right now.”
you carefully swung your legs over the side of the bed and the second your feet touched the floor, a warm gush ran down your legs.
your eyes widened.
you looked down before letting out the biggest sigh of relief you’d had all week.
“thank god…”
you glanced over at your fiancé, Jermajesty who was dead asleep, one arm was thrown over his pillow, mouth slightly open, soft snores filling the room as if the biggest day of his life wasn’t about to begin.
you waddled over to his side of the bed.
“babe.”
nothing.
you gently shook his shoulder.
“Jermajesty.”
he only groaned and buried his face deeper into the pillow. you rolled your eyes.
“Jermajesty.” “hmm…” “my water broke.”
his eyes opened halfway.
“…what?” “my water broke.”
he blinked at you for a few seconds before looking down at the puddle forming beneath your feet. his eyes practically popped out of his head.
“It did?” “yea” “we’re having a baby?” “…that’s usually what happens when your water breaks.” “oh shit.”
he shot out of bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet and within a few seconds he was sprinting around the bedroom in nothing but his boxers, grabbing your hospital bag, his backpack, phone chargers, the camera he’d insisted on bringing to document every second of the birth, and somehow even one of your decorative throw pillows.
“Babe, shoes-where are your shoes? wait, no-my wallet-where’s my wallet? fid we pack snacks? oh god the car seat!”
you leaned against the doorway, one hand supporting your back while another contraction slowly built.
“…Jermajesty.” you called making him freeze “what?”
“I think we should leave before she decides to come out in our bedroom.” “right…right!”
he hurried toward you before suddenly stopping, squinting suspiciously.
“…are you sure your water broke?” you blankly stared at him, tilting your head “I mean…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “people pee a little at the end of pregnancy, right? maybe you just-”
“Jermajesty.” “…yeah?” “get in that car.” “okay.”
he didn’t argue another word, he grabbed your hand, carefully helped you down the stairs like you were made of glass, and refused to let go the entire walk to the car. every few seconds he glanced over to make sure you were okay, asking if you needed to stop or if you were in pain.
once you were buckled in, he kissed your forehead before jogging around to the driver’s seat.
his hands shook so badly trying to put the key in the ignition that it took him three tries.
“were really about to meet our little girl,” he whispered, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. despite the contractions steadily getting stronger, you couldn’t help but smile too. “yeah…”
the streets were practically empty at two in the morning. Jermajesty kept one hand on the steering wheel and the other stretched across the center console, rubbing circles over your thigh every chance he got.
“you okay?” he asked for what had to be the tenth time in five minutes, you modded, breathing steadily.
the sentence died in your throat due tia sharp, crushing pain wrapped around your stomach and lower back so suddenly it stole every bit of air from your lungs.
“SHIT”
Jermajesty looked over for half a second before his attention snapped back to the road.
“what? what’s wrong?”
another your hit and this one was stronger making Your entire body folded forward as a cry escaped your mouth.
“ah- shit!”
Jermajestys heart dropped to his ass.
“Babe?” “shut up it hurts!” “I know, I know, we’re almost there.” “no!”
another contraction tightened around your stomach so fiercely you couldn’t even sit back against the seat.
“Jermajesty!” you whimpered “I’m driving as fast as I can!” he reassured “I can’t-I can’t sit like this!” tears blurred your vision as you grabbed the dashboard “pull over!” “what?” “pull the fuck over!”
he looked between you and the road “baby, the hospital’s like eight minutes away” “I don’t care!” you cried “please pull over!”
he immediately flicked on his hazards and steered into the nearest empty parking lot before he car had even come to a complete stop, he was out of his seat and running around to your side and swung the passenger door open.
“what’s wrong? are you okay? Is she coming?” “I need… I need to get in the back” “the back?” “I can’t sit like this anymore.”
another contraction ripped through you and you cried out so loudly it echoed through the quiet parking lot.
“please… please, help me.”
his panic disappeared the second he heard you beg.
“I got you.”
he wrapped an arm carefully around your waist, making sure not to rush you as he helped you out of the passenger seat. every tiny movement hurt to the point you could barely straighten your legs.
“It’s okay,” he whispered, trying to stay calm for both of you. “take your time.” “this is all your fault” you snapped
once you reached the back door, he opened it as quickly as he could so you could climb inside, immediately getting onto your hands and knees across the seat. you buried your face into the leather as another contraction peaked.
Jermajesty crouched beside the open door, one hand rubbing your back while the other held yours.
“breath with me.” you squeezed his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.
“shut the fuck up…” “y/n breath with me” “It hurts!” “I know.” “no you don’t!”
“I know I don’t,” he said softly, brushing sweaty strands of hair away from your face. “but I’m right here, okay? you’re not doing this by yourself.”
you let out another cry as the pain slowly began to ease.
Jermajesty reached into the front seat and grabbed the hospital bag before frantically searching through it.
“where is it… where is it…”
“what are you looking for?” you panted furrowing your eyebrows “the contraction time” “It’s… it’s an app.” “…right.”
you would’ve laughed if you weren’t in so much pain Instead, you watched him pull out his phone with trembling hands, nearly dropping it twice before opening the app.
“okay…” he muttered. “tell me when it starts again.”
you looked at him with watery eyes.
“Jermajesty…do me a favor” “hm?” “get in the car.”
he slammed the back door shut, sprinted back to the driver’s seat, and peeled out of the parking lot toward the hospital, praying they’d make it there before their daughter decided she was done waiting.
the second the car rolled under the emergency entrance canopy, Jermajesty was already unbuckling his seatbelt.
“we’re here, we’re here.”
he practically jumped out of the driver’s seat, ran around the car, and opened the back door.
“okay, baby, I got you.”
then another contraction crashed into you before you could even move, you threw your head back with a cry, gripping the headrest so tightly your knuckles turned white.
“aahh god!”
Jermajesty immediately rubbed your back.
“breathe… breathe with me” “don’t tell me to breathe!” you snapped through clenched teeth.
the contraction slowly faded, and you let out a shaky breath.
he carefully helped you out of the car, keeping an arm securely around your waist.
“you okay?” “No.” “…Right.”
he guided you through the sliding hospital doors.
almost immediately, a nurse hurried over with a wheelchair.
“Hi, sweetheart. let’s get you sitting down.”
“I’m fine,” you muttered.
before you could take another step, another contraction hit making your knees nearly buckled. Jermajesty caught you before you could lose your balance.
“she’s definitely not fine.”
the nurse smiled sympathetically.
“let’s get you in the chair.”
you didn’t even argue this time.
the moment you sat down, another wave of pressure built in your stomach. Jermajesty crouched beside you, immediately taking your hand.
“I’m right here.” “I know where you are Jermajesty” “okay.”
the nurse began wheeling you toward Labor and Delivery while asking questions.
“first baby?” the nurse asked “tes,” Jermajesty answered “how far apart are the contractions?” she asked again
“I don’t know exactly. I tried timing them but then she-” “they’re close,” you interrupted through gritted teeth “very close.”
the nurse nodded “we’ll get you upstairs.”
another contraction hit causing you to grab Jermajesty’s hoodie with surprising strength “ow-” “don’t complain!” you hissed “I’m not complaining.” “you literally just complained.” “I said ‘ow.’” “same thing.”
the nurse chuckled under her breath “you’re doing great, Dad.” “I don’t think she agrees.”jermajesty replied “I don’t,” you muttered.
a few minutes later, you were settled into a labor room while nurses moved around connecting monitors and checking your vitals.
Jermajesty hadn’t left your side once, not even for a second.
he held your hand while they placed your IV, adjusted your pillows every five minutes, filled your water cup with fresh ice, and rubbed your lower back whenever another contraction rolled through.
“you need anything?” he asked softly “I need this baby out.”
“we’re working on that” “I wasn’t talking to you.”
one of the other nurses couldn’t hide her smile.
“he seems sweet” “he is.”
Jermajesty’s face lit up. “but he’s also getting on my nerves.” His smile immediately disappeared.
“…oh.”
“you keep asking me if I’m okay every thirty seconds.”
“I just wanted to make sure.” “Jermajesty I’m in labor.” “…so that’s a no?”
you shot him a look and he nodded barely five whole seconds passed
“…do you want some ice chips?” you stared at him. “Jermajesty…”
“what?” “If you ask me one more question…” “sorry I won’t.” “…good.”
another contraction suddenly ripped through you, your entire body tensed as you squeezed his hand so hard he thought it might actually break.
“MY GOD”
“I’m here,” he whispered immediately, standing beside the bed. “look at me.”
you buried your face against his chest, breathing as steadily as you could while he rubbed slow circles across your back.
“I can’t do this anymore…” “Yes, you can.”
“It hurts.” “I know.” “No, you don’t.”
he nodded.
“you’re right… I don’t” he kissed the top of your head “but if I could take every contraction for you, I would.”
you didn’t answer yet Instead, you just leaned into him, letting him hold you through the rest of the contraction.
once it finally eased, you let out a long breath.
“…I’m sorry” “for what?” “I’ve been mean.”
he smiled and brushed a kiss across your forehead.
“you’ve got a tiny human trying to make an exit. I think you’re allowed.”
a knock sounded at the door before your doctor stepped inside, pulling on a pair of gloves.
“well…” she smiled. “let’s see how much progress we’ve made.”
Jermajesty instinctively reached for your hand again, his heart pounding
the room fell into a steady rhythm.
breathe…push…rest…repeat.
hours had passed, though neither of you could’ve said exactly how many and Jermajesty never left your side. he held one of your hands while using the other to wipe the sweat from your forehead with a cool washcloth, whispering words of encouragement every chance he got.
“you’ve got this.”
“i’m so proud of you”
“she’s almost here.”
every time you said you couldn’t do it anymore, he shook his head.
“yes, you can. you’re the strongest person I know.”
your doctor looked up from the end of the bed.
“Okay, Mom, I can see her head. one more really good push.”
you cried out, gripping Jermajesty’s hand with everything you had.
“I can’t!”
“one more,” he pleaded, tears already welling in his eyes. “Please, baby… one more.”
“oh my god Jermajesty’ why is your head so big!?” you yelled and ook one deep breath before pushing with everything left in you.
a split second of silence filled the room.
then…a loud, unmistakable cry echoed through the delivery room…you daughter’s first cry.
“there she is!” one of the nurses beamed. the tiny cries filled the room as the doctor carefully lifted your daughter into the air.
“aw she’s beautiful”
Jermajesty’s mouth fell open “oh…” his eyes never left her, she was tiny, pink covered in little wrinkles and overall perfect.
they doctor laid her on your chest, and she immediately settled against your skin, her tiny cries becoming softer.
the second you looked at her, tears spilled down your cheeks.
“hi, baby…” you whispered, gently stroking the side of her face with one finger. “hi, my sweet girl.”
Jermajesty stood frozen beside the bed.he looked from you…to his daughter…and back again then his lip trembled.
“oh my god…” he whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek, then another
within seconds, he was crying openly, covering his mouth with one hand as quiet sobs escaped him.
the nurse smiled warmly. “Dad, do you want to cut the cord?” henodded so quickly he almost laughed through his tears.
“yeah, I do.” the doctor placed the scissors in his shaking hand “right here”
Jermajesty looked at you first and you ave him a tired smile and nodded.
“you got it.”
he took a deep breath, his hands were trembling so badly the nurse gently steadied them.
“whenever you’re ready.”
he carefully closed the scissors around the cord.
Snip.
“there you go,” the doctor said. “you just cut your daughter’s umbilical cord.”
Jermajesty let out a watery laugh “I… I did.” he looked at his daughter again, completely overwhelmed. “I really did.”
the nurse wrapped the little baby in a soft pink blanket before placing her back into your arms.
she blinked sleepily, letting out a tiny yawn before curling one impossibly small hand around your finger.
Jermajesty immediately leaned closer. “oh, look at her little hand…” his finger brushed against hers and to is surprise, her tiny fingers instinctively wrapped around his index finger.
his breath caught. “she grabbed me.” another tear slipped down his face as he laughed quietly. “she grabbed me…”
he leaned down and kissed the top of her tiny head before kissing your forehead just as gently. “thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking. you looked up at him, exhausted but smiling.
“for what?” “for making me a dad.”
he rested his forehead against yours, unable to stop smiling through the tears. the room was still bustling with nurses taking measurements and recording times, but neither of you noticed.
all that mattered was the little girl resting peacefully between her mom and dad.
the little girl Jermajesty had talked to every night. the little girl he’d spent months waiting to meet.
summary: in celebration of your birthday, you decided to throw a small party with some of your closest friends— including Jermajesty and (unfortunately for him) his brother, Jaafar as well. Jaafar tries to make a move on you but Jermajesty is already two steps ahead.
warnings/content: profanities, slight angst at the end (i got carried away oops)
a/n: this is heavily inspired by the song itself! i've always wanted to put the reader in a love triangle w maj and jaaf 🌟
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"Jaafar, hurry up." Jermajesty urged his older brother who was still in the middle of tying his shoelaces, his voice laced with an impatient tone as he continued to watch his brother take his time. "She's not gonna like it if we're late to her party, man. And I still gotta buy flowers for her."
Jaafar chuckled, finally finished with tying his shoelaces as he stood up from the couch. "Look at you. So smitten with her." He grabbed his car keys, wallet, and sunglasses from the kitchen counter and walked past his younger brother who scoffed in response.
"I am not smitten. It's her birthday today. I don't want to upset her or some shit." He replied, grabbing the white paper bag that contained his gifts for you from the same counter.
Jaafar nodded knowingly, opening the front door and letting Jermajesty get out first before he got out of the house as well, locking the doors behind him. The two brothers hurriedly went to Jaafar's car but was interrupted by Randy Jr.
"Hey! Hold up!" Randy jogged down the steps and smiled at his younger brothers. "Give this to her, alright? Tell her I'm sorry I can't make it." Jermajesty took the small box from his brother's hands and nodded before entering the car.
Jaafar slid into the driver's seat, fastening his seatbelt as Jermajesty carefully set the small gift box on his lap.
"I'll tell her," Jermajesty assured.
Randy leaned against the open window with a grin. "And tell her happy birthday from all of us."
"I literally just said I would."
"Yeah, but now I'm reminding you."
Jermajesty gave him a flat look. "Thanks."
With a laugh, Randy stepped away from the car and tapped the roof twice. "Drive safe."
Jaafar started the engine, waving once before pulling out of the driveway. The neighborhood slowly disappeared behind them as they merged onto the main road.
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The bell above the shop door chimed as the brothers stepped inside. The cool air carried the fresh scent of greenery and blooming flowers. Buckets of roses, lilies, carnations, daisies, tulips, and countless other flowers lined the walls in neat rows, filling the little shop with every color imaginable.
An elderly florist greeted them warmly from behind the counter. "Looking for something specific?"
"It's our friend's birthday," Jaafar answered.
The florist smiled knowingly. "Well, birthdays always deserve flowers." As the florist gave Jaafar various options and suggestions, Jermajesty already drifted away from the conversation, wandering through the aisles before she even finished speaking.
Jaafar thanked the lady and followed his younger brother who glared at the options in front of him. "Relax," Jaafar teased. "The flowers didn't do shit to you, Maj."
"They have to be perfect." Jermajesty shook his head, lightly dragging his fingers against the flowers, still looking for a specific one.
After another minute, Jermajesty's eyes finally landed on a bucket tucked toward the back of the shop. His expression softened almost instantly. "There they are."
He carefully picked up a bouquet of white lilies and asked the lady if he could customize it. The lady smiled and nodded, immediately attending to his needs.
Jermajesty added a few stems of pink carnations, several pale pink roses, and sprigs of baby's breath to soften the arrangement and fill the empty spaces. Once he was satisfied with how it looked, he paid for the bouquet, grabbing a tray of chocolates from the counter to go with it before heading towards his brother on the other side of the store.
"Did you find one already?" Jermajesty asked impatiently. Jaafar looked up then turned his gaze down to his brother's bouquet. "Damn," he said, clearly impressed.
Jermajesty gave him a smug smile, "Damn right. I don't play about her. Now, hurry up. I'll wait outside."
After a few more minutes, Jaafar settled on a simple bouquet of roses and a handwritten letter.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪
Finally, after what seemed to feel like forever, the brothers arrived at your place. As soon as they stepped in, they were greeted by the sound of lively chatter, random music playing through the speakers, and the decorations that surrounded the walls.
"Jacksons! You made it!" A friend of yours greeted, giving both the brothers a side hug and telling them you were somewhere in the place, entertaining your guests. They nodded gratefully and made their way to the living room, only to be greeted by your family members.
The most annoying, nosy, and cheesy ass people in your life in your opinion.
"Oh shit, here comes the Jacksons!" Your brother hollered, earning the attention of the other guests. "Long time no see, man! Aye, congrats on the movie. You did amazing, Jaafar." He shook Jaafar's hand who sheepishly smiled and thanked him.
Your brother turned to Jermajesty and smiled, dapping him up as well. "My man. You've grown!"
"Man, I'm the same age as your sister—"
"Speaking of! Birthday girl! C'mere! Your Prince Charmings are here." Your brother teased. You turned your head towards him and your eyes landed on the brothers. Quickly excusing yourself from the other guests, you quietly squealed in excitement at the sight of your two most favorite and closest Jacksons.
"You made it!" You wrapped your arms around Jaafar first, thanking him for coming. Then, you moved towards Jermajesty and immediately felt a shift in the air. Your arms awkwardly hung in the air, thinking if you should hug him or not.
Ah, fuck it. "Thanks for coming, Maj." You hugged him tightly, mentally freaking out at how good he smelled right now. Was he wearing a new scent? Why does it matter? He hugged you with equal force, squeezing your waist with his free hand. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, mama. Happy birthday."
He pulled away and handed you a white paper bag, minimalistic yet elegant in its own way. Before you could protest, wanting to say he shouldn't have gotten you anything, he handed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.
"Jer! Thank you!" You kissed his cheek absentmindedly, already turning your attention towards Jaafar who gave you another bouquet and a handwritten letter.
She kissed me. Well, my cheek. But she kissed me. Holy shit. Jermajesty thought.
His eyes raked your outfit, watching your every move as you continued to talk with his brother. He felt so mesmerized at the sight of you that he almost didn't notice Jaafar's hand at your lower back— keyword: almost.
He cleared his throat and stepped towards you, stopping once your back hit his chest. Glaring at his older brother, he gently removed Jaafar's touch from your body and replaced it with his arm snaking behind your waist.
You were still oblivious to whatever feud that was happening between the brothers. Smiling at both of them, you gestured Jaafar to follow you while you simultaneously pulled Jermajesty as well. The three of you made it to the dining area and you immediately offered them snacks.
"Make yourselves at home! Ah, thank you so much for coming guys. I was about to lose my mind." You chuckled, offering them a glass of your favorite champagne.
"Miss us that much, angel?" Jaafar smiled, gently taking the glass. Noticing the nickname, Jermajesty rolled his eyes before fixing his expression the moment your attention was on him. "Thank you, pretty."
"You have no idea how much my family's been grilling my ass. My aunts and uncles have been trying to make me sing for the last hour."
Jaafar chuckled. "And? Did you?"
"Hell no! They'd have to bribe me to make me sing in front of them." She took a sip of her drink before leaning her elbows against the kitchen counter with Jaafar doing the same. Jermajesty stayed in his place, tracing patterns against your waist as he listened to you and his brother talk once again.
"Oh, come on. I love hearing you sing."
You rolled your eyes, pointing a finger at him. "We won't talk about that."
"I'm serious!" Jaafar smiled, a sight that any other girl would melt at— especially you. "Okay, shut up. I'm still not singing. I might if I'm drunk enough—"
Your conversation was interrupted by your aunt loudly calling your name from the living room. "There she is!"
"Oh, fuck..." You pinched the bridge of your nose, already knowing what was coming.
Your aunt marched over with the confidence only an aunt at a family gathering could possess, two of your older cousins trailing behind her with matching grins. "So these are the Jackson boys!"
Jaafar immediately stood a little straighter and Jermajesty silently prepared for impact.
"I've heard so much about you two."
Your eyes widened.
"...You have?"
"Oh, absolutely." Your aunt replied. You whipped your head toward your aunt. "Auntie—"
"She talks about you all the time."
"Auntie!"
"What?" she asked innocently. "I'm just telling the truth." Heat immediately rushed to your face. Jermajesty, meanwhile, was trying very hard not to smile. Jaafar wasn't nearly as successful.
"Well, what does she say? Good things, I hope?" Jaafar chuckled, covering his smile behind his hand as he avoided your playful glare. "Don't encourage her, J!"
"Of course! She always says how kind you boys are... and how funny you are—"
"Auntie, please—"
"She told us how you, Jaafar, are really caring, kind, and charming. And how Jermajesty remembers every little thing she tells him and how she loves—"
Silence. Complete utter silence followed the three of them, especially Jermajesty. He felt every pair of eyes slowly drift toward him except yours.
Your embarrassment hit at an all-time high.
"Auntie, please stop talking. Oh, look! Your kid's running around, get him before he trips."
Jaafar looked at his younger brother. "Huh."
Jermajesty cleared his throat. "...I mean, I try."
"You do," your aunt agreed. "She mentioned once that she wanted pink carnations and lilies, and the next thing I know—"
Your eyes darted to the bouquet in your hands that was filled with pink carnations, white lilies and baby's breath— your ideal bouquet.
For a second, the chatter around the house faded into the background. Jermajesty forgot about your relatives, the music, the party—everything except the way you were looking at him.
Then, right on cue, your brother appeared again. He took one look at Jermajesty's expression and burst into laughter.
"Sorry to burst whatever's happening here but Mom's calling you, bug. We gotta cut the cake and eat!" Your brother pulled you away from whatever that was and for the first time, you mentally thanked him for interrupting your moment.
Jaafar watched his brother's gaze never leave your retreating figure, a slight annoyed look on his face. He poked his tongue inside his cheek before patting Jermajesty's shoulder. "Come on."
The brothers followed the growing crowd into the dining area where the birthday cake sat in the center of the table, surrounded by flickering candles. Someone dimmed the lights, earning a chorus of playful whistles from your younger cousins.
"There she is!" your mom laughed, gently guiding you toward the cake.
You protested immediately. "Mom, no—"
"Stand."
"But—"
"Come on, bug!"
You sighed dramatically, earning a round of laughter as you took your place behind the cake. Your little cousin was already fumbling with a lighter. "I got it! I got it!"
"No, sweetheart," your dad chuckled, taking it from him before disaster could strike. "Let me."
One by one, the candles came to life. The room dimmed even further. The warm glow danced across your face, and for a brief moment, the chatter died down.
Then—
"Happy birthday to you..."
The singing began and your heart swelled with love and joy. You laughed at your aunts who tried to out-sing one another, your smile growing by the second as your family dramatically sang.
You hear Jermajesty singing too, just loud enough for you to hear when your eyes instinctively searched the crowd. You found him almost immediately, sending a smile your way. Not the loud, teasing grin he wore around everyone else. A softer one reserved entirely for you.
Without thinking, you smiled back. Jaafar caught the silent exchange from beside him. Of course. He looked away before either of you noticed.
"...Happy birthday to you." The song ended with loud cheers and applause.
"Speech!" someone yelled.
"No!" You protested, shaking your head as you blew the candles out and placed the cake down.
"Speech!"
"No speeches!"
"Speech!"
You covered your face with both hands, laughing helplessly. "Okay, okay!" you finally gave in. "Um..." You looked around at everyone gathered in your home. "Thank you all for coming. It really means a lot... I know everyone has busy schedules, so thank you for making time for me."
Your eyes lingered on Jaafar. "Especially people who just came back from press tours around the world."
Jaafar gave you a small salute, winking in the process which made you blush and look away.
You finished your sappy speech and clapped your hands together. "Okay! Enough talking. Let's eat!"
Plates were passed around while music resumed through the speakers. Guests split into smaller groups again, conversations picking up where they'd left off.
Jermajesty found himself standing near the kitchen island with a slice of cake balanced in one hand.
"You haven't touched your cake, Maj." He looked over and saw you standing behind him. You had somehow escaped the swarm of relatives again and wanted to spend time with Jermajesty.
"I've been... distracted."
"I can see that," you chuckled before nodding towards the slice of cake. "Try it." He nodded, taking a small bite while you watched him carefully. "Do you like it?"
"...Mhm."
You narrowed your eyes. "You hesitated."
"I was chewing!" He replied, shoulders raised in defense as you laughed at him. You nodded your head sarcastically, taking the fork from his hands and taking a small piece of cake for yourself.
He watched as you carefully place the fork against your lips, sniffing the delicious scent before eating it. You hummed in delight as the familiar flavor of chocolate burst in your tongue. He smiled softly as some of the frosting got smudged against the corner of your mouth.
Without thinking about it, he raised his hand and wiped the frosting off with his thumb. As he kept eye contact with you, he licked the frosting off his thumb and tilted his head at your flustered expression. "...I'm more of a vanilla person, you know. But this cake's good too."
You cleared your throat and gave him an awkward chuckle, grabbing a napkin and making sure to wipe any food residue that might still be on your lips. "Glad you still enjoyed it."
"Oh, I want to give you something." He said and you smiled. "Another gift, Maj? Seriously, you didn't have to get me anything—"
"Shut up. Respectfully." He added once he saw your glare. "Can we go somewhere more private?"
You laughed, pulling him towards your room. "What's this gift and why does it need to be given in private?" Jermajesty closed the door behind you and grabbed a small box from his pocket.
"Are you proposing to me?" You gasped dramatically. "Okay, get down on one knee and beg for my hand—"
"Bro, I'm not proposing. Don't be silly now."
Your laughter died down as he opened the box. In it was a simple gold necklace with a small charm— the same necklace you've been wanting to buy for months now.
"Jermajesty! Oh my god!" You grabbed the necklace and smiled up at him. "Holy shit, I thought this was sold out? How'd you get it!"
"You like it, ma?"
"Like it? I love it! Fuck, this is so sweet, Maj! Come here." You pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek in appreciation. Jermajesty felt his heart jump out of his chest right then. He chuckled into the hug and kissed your temple.
He took the necklace and lead you to stand in front of your mirror. Standing behind you, he carefully placed the necklace around your neck, clasping it in place. "Happy birthday, pretty."
"Thank you, Maj. Really." You turned your head to the side and felt your breath hitch at the sight of his face just inches away from yours.
"...You're really beautiful." he blurted out.
"Shut up, man." You tried to push him away, only to be pulled back in by Jermajesty grabbing your wrist and placing a soft kiss against it.
Downstairs, the party carried on as if nothing had happened. Music floated through the house. Someone had started another card game in the dining room. A few of your younger cousins were chasing each other through the hallway despite repeated warnings from the adults.
Jaafar sat in the living room with a half-finished drink in his hand, only half-listening to whatever story your uncle was telling.
His attention kept drifting toward the staircase. Toward the hallway where the two of you had disappeared minutes ago.
"She just wanted to show him something," he told himself.
Probably her room.
Maybe she was opening his gift.
Maybe—
He clicked his tongue against the inside of his cheek.
"Get a grip."
"You're zoning out."
Jaafar looked over to find your older brother dropping onto the couch beside him, balancing a paper plate with two slices of cake. "Where's Jermajesty?"
Jaafar shrugged, "Probably with y/n."
Noticing the tone in Jaafar's voice, your brother decided to investigate. "Jer's got it bad for her, huh?"
Jaafar visibly tensed up. Gripping his glass tighter, he nodded at your brother's question. "Yeah."
" I don't think he even realizes how obvious he is when it comes to her..."
"Mhm."
"I mean," Your brother chuckled. "The guy follows her around like a lost puppy. He remembers everything she says. Teases the shit out of her. Looks at her like she hung the moon... and if anyone gets too close— God help them."
Jaafar smiled faintly, choosing not to reply to that. Instead, he watched someone refill the snack bowls across the rooms, drifted his gaze towards your relatives who were playing board games, and—
"You like her too, don't you?"
Jaafar's fingers froze against his glass. "What?"
"You heard me." Your brother propped his elbows against his knees and leaned forward. "I've seen the way you look at her."
"Can we not..."
"I've known you for years, man. I know how you get when you like someone."
Jaafar sighed, leaning against the soft couch dramatically. "I didn't mean for it to happen. I– I don't plan on saying anything."
"...Because of Jer?"
Jaafar nodded. "He... He's crazy about her." There wasn't a hint of bitterness in his voice, just resignation. "I've never seen him like this. He deserves a chance."
"And you don't?"
Jaafar finally looked at your brother. "It's not about what I deserve. It's about what she wants." His gaze wandered back to the staircase. "If she chooses him then that's enough for me."
Before either of them could say another word, footsteps echoed from the second floor. Instinctively, both men looked up.
There you were. Descending the stairs with Jermajesty a step behind you. Your fingers absentmindedly brushed the necklace resting against your collarbone, unable to stop smiling every time the pendant caught the light.
Jermajesty's gaze never left you.
Jaafar watched as you looked over your shoulder to say something to Jermajesty, laughing when he replied.
Then, almost unconsciously, Jermajesty reached out and took your hand to help you down the last two steps, even though you clearly didn't need the assistance.
You didn't pull away, making Jaafar lower his eyes.
summary: jermajesty coming to your apartment unannounced just bc he can . this is connected to "texts with childhood bsf! jermajesty"🌟
warnings: profanities, suggestive content, maj being flirty (& touchy) af and reader acting oblivious😁
You barely heard the front door unlock over the music humming through your earbuds.
Vacuum in one hand and a half-folded hoodie in the other, you were too busy trying to tame the disaster you'd been calling a bedroom for the past week to pay attention.
Clothes were piled on the bed, books were stacked haphazardly against the wall, and an open suitcase still sat in the corner from your last trip.
A familiar click echoed through the apartment. You stopped in your tracks, frowning as you assumed you were just imagining things.
Then came the unmistakable sound of the front door opening. Gripping the vacuum tighter, you removed your earbuds and listened to the footsteps that were getting closer to your room.
Your heart beat loudly against your chest. You lived alone. No one was supposed to be here—
"Bro, where you at? You in your room?"
Instantly rolling your eyes, you open your door and see his half-raised fist, as if he was just about to knock on your door. "Hey, pretty." he smiled, putting his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the doorframe.
"What the fuck, Maj! I thought you were an intruder. How'd you get inside?" You carefully placed the vacuum handle down, kicking the wire to the side as you glared up at him.
"You gave me a spare key, pretty." He said, twirling the familiar silver key ring around his finger.
Jermajesty walked towards you, looking at you up and down before turning his gaze towards your room. His sunglasses were perched atop his head despite being indoors, and he wore the kind of smug grin that usually meant he knew he'd caught you at the worst possible moment.
"You busy right now, mama?"
"What does it look like, Maj?" You hissed in annoyance. Quickly discarding the rest of the trash left in your room and arranging the clothes into your closet, Jermajesty watched as you swiftly changed the status of your room from 'looking like a collapsed civilization' to 'breathable'.
"You weren't answering your phone," he shrugged, immediately lying down on your bed, grabbing whatever plushie he could find and smiling up at you.
"Ew!" You smacked his chest and pulled him by the arm, trying to get him out of your bed. "Maj, you're wearing outside clothes! I just changed the sheets! Get off!"
His laughter only fueled your rage as you continued to pull his dead weight off the bed. Realizing your inevitable failure, you rolled your eyes once more and shoved him back onto your bed.
"You done?" he asked between laughs, completely unfazed by your failed attempts to move him. You planted your hands on your hips, glaring down at him. "No."
With one dramatic sigh, you grabbed the nearest pillow and smacked him square in the face.
"Ow! Bro—"
"You're tracking germs onto my clean sheets! Get." hit. "Off!" another hit. Then another just because you felt like it.
Having enough of your dramatic ass, Jermajesty grabbed the pillow in your hands and pulled it towards him, which pulled you towards him too. With a small gasp, you fell on top of him with only the pillow acting as a barrier between your chests.
"Hi," he smiled at you. "You done hitting me now?"
Groaning, you pull yourself up only to be pulled back down by Jermajesty. "Stay here, ma." Removing the pillow between your bodies and setting it aside, he shifted his body into a more comfortable position all while having you on top of him. "Maj..." you warned softly.
He let out a lazy hum in response. "Hm?"
Shifting comfortably against the mattress, he slid one arm beneath his head as a makeshift pillow. Before you could react, his other arm circled your waist with effortless ease, keeping you from retreating as he looked up at you with an unmistakably amused expression.
"I missed you," he said. You looked up at him and scoffed softly. "We saw each other a few weeks ago." Trying to pull yourself up again, Jermajesty just tightened his grip around your waist in response, shaking his head and silently telling you to stay still.
"Yeah, but that was forever ago. Too long—"
Your laughter interrupted his dramatic rant, causing him to mirror your smile. "What? I can't miss my best friend now?" he asked affectionately as he nuzzled his face onto the crook of your neck.
You groaned and rolled your eyes, though the corner of your mouth betrayed you with the hint of a smile.
"I know you're smiling right now, baby." He said, his voice muffled as he nuzzled his head further into your neck. "Mm. You smell good. You wearing new perfume?"
"No," you chuckled, finally stopping your resistance against his touch. You combed your hand through his hair and sighed, "I'm wearing the perfume you got me for my birthday."
He looked up at you and smiled, "Yeah? I got good taste then."
"Whatever, Maj." You gently slapped his chest before sitting up, your legs on either side of his body. Looking down at you straddling him, Jermajesty gulped and placed his hands on your hips, grounding you to him.
"So? Why'd you come over?" You asked, completely unaware of the effect you have over him right now.
"Just—" his voice cracked before he cleared his throat. "Just missed you. Wanted to talk to you." His breathing became shallow as he felt your fingers lightly trace patterns over his clothed chest.
"Yeah, right." You scoffed. "If you missed me so bad, you could've just called."
He shook his head. "Nah. You hate calls. Plus... I needed to see you in person."
"Needed?" You teased, earning an eye roll from him. "Shut the fuck up, bro." he groaned, squeezing your hips as a warning. Chuckling, you removed yourself from his body, leaving him silently wishing you were still on top of him. You went to your vanity mirror and looked for something.
"What you lookin' for?" He asked, standing up and making his way towards you. Once he was just behind you, he wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you through the mirror.
"Just my chapstick. My lips are dry as fuck these days."
He made a 'tsk' sound and turned your body to face his. "That's coz you don't drink enough water, woman. I told you—"
"Oh, quit nagging me, boy." You turned your back around once more and finally found your chapstick, quickly uncapping it and placing the balm against your lips. Jermajesty just watched, his gaze never tearing away from your lips.
"You know what you're doing to me. I know you do." He muttered, his voice tight with restraint.
Smirking to yourself, you tilted your head as you turned around to face him. He towered over you, hands still gripping your waist while his eyes bore into yours. "Dunno what you're talking about, Maj."
He rolled his eyes and looked away. "You're irritating as fuck. You know that, right?"
You giggled at his reaction, placing your palm over your mouth to hide your smile which only irritated Jermajesty even more.
"Man, I hate you." He moved his hands away and dragged it across his face in annoyance.
"No, you don't."
He playfully glared at you before sighing in defeat. "Yeah, you right, pretty." He pulled you in and kissed your cheek before running away and laughing like a maniac.
⊱ pervybsf!jaafar just gets off to the sound of your voice.
cw: 18+ mdni, masturbation (m), edging, slight subby jaafar, reader is an oblivious yapper, 2.5k words.
you’re sprawled across your bed, scrolling mindlessly through your phone when it buzzes in your hand. ‘j 🫶🏽’ flashes across the top of your screen, blocking the picture of the two of you in his contact photo, and you smile, swiping to answer without hesitation.
“hi, j,” you practically sang into the microphone, settling back against your pillows. you put him on speakerphone and set your phone on your chest.
on the other end of the line, jaafar’s breath catches. he’s sitting on his bed in the dark, finally, after months of endless travel– back against the headboard and phone pressed to his ear with a trembling hand. his other hand is already palming himself through his sweatpants; had been for the past twenty minutes while he worked up the courage to call you. the sound of your voice–so casual, so sweet, so completely unaware– sends a jolt of heat straight through him.
“hey,” he manages, and he’s proud of how normal it sounds despite the way his heart is slamming against his ribs. “you busy?”
you glance at the time–12:43 am– and shake your head even though he can’t see you. “no, just got back almost an hour ago. your girl is freshly showered and doomscrolling. what’s up? you okay?”
you’d gone out with your friends that night, and you knew that jaafar knew, because he’d liked every single story you’d posted to your instagram. from the pregame at a friends apartment, to the chaotic uber, to you walking around the party–tipsy– waving a bottle of jose cuervo in the air as if it were sage. and, of course, the posts to your close friends– the multiple short, blurry clips of you bent over or squatting, trying so hard to keep your skirt in place as you grind and throw your ass back against your other best friend.
the posts that put jaafar in this situation in the first place. he wasn't ashamed to say he screen-recorded them, saving it to his hidden album.
jaafar had purposefully waited, watching your location move until it landed back at your home– and then waited some more, hoping you’d be in bed by now. he can picture you so clearly in one of your tight tank top and tiny short sets… he’s seen you like this a hundred times, being at your place late at night– platonically, innocently. you, all soft and comfortable and completely his in those moments. even if you didn’t know it. even if you’d never know it.
“yeah, yeah i’m good.” he replies, and his voice comes out slightly breathless. he forces himself to slow down, to breathe. his hand slips beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers wrapping around himself, and he has to press his lips together as he wishes it was your fingers instead. “just… couldn’t sleep. wanted to hear your voice. you have fun?”
it’s the truth, but it’s also so much more than that. there wasn't a single moment where he didn't want to hear your voice. he’s been utterly, completely yours from the moment he met you. hell, within the first few months of knowing you, you’d systematically ruined every other woman for him; they all paled in comparison to the way you moved, the way you spoke, the way you existed so carelessly in his orbit. no one else could make him feel the way you did.
“aww, how sweet!” you tease him, softening at his words and completely missing the desperate edge beneath them. “and yeah, couldn’t you tell? tequila and i go together real bad. wish you could’ve been there though.”
“mm, me too. i’ll be at the next one…” jaafar’s voice trails off as he brings his hand to his mouth– spitting into it and bringing it back to its previous position, wrapped around himself, now free from the constraint of his pants. his head falls back to his pillow with a sharp intake of breath.
“hey, you okay? what was that?"
he makes a sound that’s half laugh, half-something else, and his hand starts moving slowly, carefully. “yeahm’fine, promise,” his words blend together and he takes a breath before speaking again. “tell me about your week? feels like we haven’t talked in a while.”
you immediately launch into a recap of your friday night dinner with, yet again, your friends, and jaafar closes his eyes, letting your voice wash over him. his hand moves in slow, deliberate strokes, his thumb swiping over the tip. it takes so much, too much, to hold back the groan that threatens to spill out of him. you’re talking about the restaurant, about what you ordered, and all he can think about is your mouth. the way your lips move when you talk. the way you lick them when you pause midst story, thinking. the way they’d look wrapped around–
“–and then trin embarrassed the hell out of herself in front of the waiter,” you’re saying, laughing. you notice the lack of response from him seconds later. “jaafar? are you sleepin’?”
“uhn-uh,” he breathes out, maybe too quickly. his hand stills for a moment, giving himself a chance to calm down. you’d been talking for five minutes. only five minutes, and he was already this worked up. “m’listening. what’d she do?”
there’s a faint sound in the background of his call–something like fabric shifting– but you assume he’s just getting comfortable. you continue your story, finish, and instantly babble about your morning after he asks, animated and completely oblivious while jaafar strokes himself to the sound of your voice. he only feels a little guilty; knows you trust him completely, probably thinking of him as your sweet, faultless friend.
if you knew what he was doing right now– well, there was a very real chance you'd never speak to him again.
the thought should stop him.
it doesn’t.
“so anyway,” you continue, “after that i just ran errands, nothing exciting. went food shopping, grabbed a chai– ugh, j, they made it wrong and it damn near ruined my whole day. oh, then i came home and did laundry. fun, huh?”
“mmm, what were you wearing?” the question slips out before he can stop it, and he immediately tries to over-correct. “like, was it hot out? i've, uh, barely left the house today.”
you don’t think anything of it. “it felt so good. i hope summer never ends, honestly." bringing your nails up to your face, you pick at chipped polish. "and i wore that sundress i just got. you know, the yellow one?”
jaafar’s breath hitches and his hands speed up involuntarily. he knows that dress. he’d memorized that dress– after only seeing you in it once. the way it hugs your waist and flares out around your thighs. the way the neckline dips just enough. it was the perfect contrast against your skintone; god, you’d looked like sunshine incarnate in it. he’s been burning for you for so long he doesn’t remember what it feels like to not want you.
he twists his wrist on his next stroke up, squeezing slightly, and he has to turn his face into his shoulder to muffle a moan. his tip leaks, sticky with precum, already so desperate it’s embarrassing.
“seriously, are you good? you sound a little weird.”
“m’fine,” he gasps out. “just– s-stomach hurts a little. it’s nothing.”
you frown, starting to sit up. “do you need to go? i can hang up and let you sleep–”
“no, no–i’m, uh, not tired. keep talking, please. it’s… it’s helping the ache.”
you’re still concerned when you lay back, though you let it go. “okay, if you’re sure. what should i talk about?”
“anything. just–mmph, sorry– tell me about your night. w-what are you doing right now?”
“right now?” you laugh softly. “literally nothing. i’m just laying in my pajamas– actually, i think i showed you these? they’re the pair i bought last week with the lace trimming on the shorts. they’re sooo soft it feels like m’covered in a cloud. my bed though? not so comfortable.” you shift against your pillows, and the rustling of your sheets makes his cock twitch in his hand. “shit, my back is killing me from those fucking heels.”
jaafar squeezes his eyes shut as he works himself to your rambling, his mind immediately conjuring the image. you were right. he knew the exact pair you were wearing, since you’d texted him a picture of two different sets and he’d chose them for you. he wondered how they fit over your curves, if the shorts even covered the fat of your ass, if your top was so thin that your nipples poked through them with the slightest chill.
“wait, hold on,” you mumble, and then there’s more movement, the sound of you stretching, repositioning. and then–oh– a soft, breathy moan escapes you as you work out the tension in your shoulders.
he's barely prepared for the reaction he has to it, to you, but he's even less prepared when a long, low whine leaves you as you finish your stretch.
jaafar absolutely loses it.
he turns his face into his pillow, burying himself in it as his hips buck into his fist. “fuck, baby,” he moans into the fabric, a pathetic whimper following shortly after. he imagines you making those sounds a thousand times; close to him, lips pressed against his neck, inches from his ear. feeling the pressure building in the pit of his stomach, jaafar squeezes the base of himself– stopping his impending orgasm right at the edge, body shaking with the effort.
“j?” your voice cuts through his haze. “what’d you say? i cant hear you.”
he freezes, and with a racing heart, pulls his face away from the pillow. “nothing, just said that sounds crazy. the heels.”
“yeah, men really have it easy. you guys throw on some dirty sneakers and call it done. anyways, what did you do today? you’re makin’ me do all the talking.”
jaafar can barely process the question. as soon as he was sure he wouldn't bust, he’d began to stroke himself again, tighter, faster– still replaying the sound you made on a loop in his mind. “not much,” he pants out. “stayed in. thought about you.”
this time the words slip and he doesn’t care to over-correct, letting it hang between you, waiting for your reaction.
“you’re being overly sentimental tonight... but, i thought about you, too. i missed you while you were overseas.” you reach for your phone, taking it off speaker, and roll onto your side. the device presses against your ear and pillow as you get comfortable, the noises from jaafar's end becoming more clear.
you pause, eyebrows furrowed– attempting to lean toward the sound before remembering you weren't physically around him.
instead, you hold your breath to try and hear better.
“i missed you too,” jaafar breathes. “but i always do. even when you’re right there, i miss y-you–”
a wet sound. rhythmic. it’s faint but it’s there, and with your phone pressed directly to your ear, there’s no mistaking what it is.
schlick, schlick, schlick.
your breath catches. “jaafar–”
but your voice being so close now, so intimate in his ear, saying his name in that way, breaks the last bit of his restraint. he can’t hold back anymore. a broken moan tears from his throat, followed by another– desperate, needy sounds he’d been choking back, “ahh– fuck– ngh–”
the wet sounds get faster, more frantic, and you can hear his breathing turning ragged, can hear the way his voice breaks on every exhale.
“oh my god,” you whisper, your own voice breathless with the realization. “what are– are you…?”
“i’m sorry,” he practically sobs– but his hand doesn’t stop. he can’t stop, too far gone to care anymore. “i’m so– o-ohh, shit– so sorry, i know i shouldn’t but i can’t, i just needed–”
“you’re– while we’ve been talking this whole time?”
“yes,” jaafar whimpers, hand speeding up. “yes, i’m sorry, i’ll stop, i’ll hang up, i just–”
“no, don’t, you don’t need to, um, were you already–? before we–”
“not r-really, started when i heard your voice,” he admits, “i know it’s fucked up, i know you probably hate me now, ‘probably disgusted w’me i’m s–”
the sounds of him make your head feel foggy– your thoughts jumbled and scrambled. maybe anyone else would be disgusted. maybe… but you?
well, you'd been waiting for this moment for years.
“let me see.”
“w-what?”
“i want to see you,” you say, and there’s no hesitation in your voice now. “will you show me? please?”
“fuck,” jaafar whines– squeezing himself when he dances close to the edge once again. “are you– do you mean–”
but he’s cut off by the buzzing of his phone, an incoming facetime request from you. accepts it without a second thought. your face fills the screen and he nearly comes right then and there.
your lips are swollen from biting them, slightly parted, and your eyes are dark and wide. you look so beautiful and so wrecked without having anything done to you. when another request to see him falls from your mouth he turns the screen, angling the phone down with a trembling hand; showing you his other hand still gripping the base of his length. the sight is mouthwatering.
“oh, god, you look so– you’re so b–”
his hips give a slight jerk. “don’t say tha', m’too close, i’ll cum early”
but you don’t listen. “you’re so pretty,” you purr. “j, look at you. been thinking about me this whole time? been touching yourself while i talked to you like nothing was wrong?” you exhale as he finally moves his fist– up and down, twisting side to side. the muscles in his thick thighs tensing. his leg moves up, heel of his foot digging into his sheets before it falls flat to the bed again, toes curling in the darkness.
“nngh– please, please… i can’t–” he cuts himself off with a whimper of your name.
“show me… wanna watch you cum, need to see you fall apart for me, baby.”
his back arches off the bed and a broken, desperate moan rips from his throat– high-pitched and downright pitiful. “oh god– oh fuck– i’m–” his hips buck erratically, thighs trembling, and you watch as he comes undone. his hand works himself through it, movements jerky and uncoordinated, and the sounds he makes are obscene– groans and gasps and choked off cries of your name. it goes on and on, wave after wave, until he’s gasping for air and his hand finally stills.
for a long moment, there’s only the sound of his ragged breathing. then he turns the camera back to his face, and the look of him now is just as hypnotizing as the sight of him coming undone– flushed and sweaty, his curls stuck to his forehead, eyes glazed and unfocused.
though it doesn’t take long for the guilt to sink in.
“oh god, i can’t believe i just–” he makes a sound that’s half-laugh, half-groan, and throws his head back into the pillow. “this is the part where you never speak to me again, huh?”
you huff in disbelief. your panties are sticking to you, to the insides of your thighs, uncomfortably wet as you continue to memorize every detail of him in this moment. “this is the part where you come over and show me what else you’ve been thinking about.”
jaafar makes a choked sound as he stares at you, wondering if you’re joking.
he scrambles off of his bed, already reaching for clean clothes, when you turn the camera so he can see the lower half of your body. your shorts were halfway down your legs. "i'll be there in ten minutes."
he pauses when your panties follow your shorts– thrown to the floor, leaving you bare and exposed to him. “make it five.”
SYNOPSIS: jaafar's been looking forward to your weekly scheduled movie night with him, but the amount of texts you were getting was starting to get really annoying.
CONTENT: 18+ MDNI, smut, angst, fluff, fwb to lovers, jaafar gets really jealous (and he's an eater), reader's a little oblivious, it's kinda toxic actually
AUTHOR'S NOTE: i started writing this on a whim a few days ago and finished editing it today. there's a lot of cliches in this (i love cliches fuck off) and this a very shoddy attempt at writing smut, i am NOT good at it lmao so pls feel free to send me any suggestions, im always wanting to get better :)
WORD COUNT: 6,678
“Did we get any pringles yet?”
“Uh... No, not yet.”
“Oh- ah, there they are.”
Jaafar jogs over to where the pringles are situated and picks out the flavor he likes. It was another one of your weekly movie nights. You’ve been doing them since you were teenagers in high school, often spending the night at each other’s houses. Now you were in graduate school writing your thesis for your master’s degree while Jaafar had just landed his first big role as an actor.
The two of you were very tight-knit. Often having each other’s backs whenever things went south. Jaafar in particular was very protective of you, especially when it came to relationships. He absolutely hated your past partners and for valid reasons. He always said they never treated you right and never prioritized you.
He wanted the best for you, and that want strengthened even more when you drunkenly mentioned one night that none of your exes had ever actually made you finish in bed. It was late then, the two of you were tipsy after just getting back from a night out at the bar. Jaafar blurts out that he bet he could make you finish in under five minutes, and you being intoxicated as you were, you obliged.
Needless to say, he fulfilled his promise a little too well. Because the two of you started fucking at least once a week. Which turned into twice a week. And then every other day. It was a bad idea and you both knew it. But the benefits were too good let go. After all, you were both adults and everything was purely platonic aside from the sex. At least that’s what you both try to convince yourselves.
Jaafar jogs back to where you were by the soda fridges and places the pringles cans in the shopping cart. You glance over to see what he got and sigh in exasperation.
“Salt and vinegar?”
Jaafar looks offended. “The hell’s that supposed to mean? They’re good!”
“Texas barbecue is a thousand times better,” you argue as you place a few cans of soda in the cart. Ah yes, the bickering. It was something you two always inevitably do when choosing snacks. “Your taste is questionable.”
He scoffs, and picks up the kettle corn bag that you put in the cart just a few minutes ago. “You just put kettle corn in here!”
“And? I like them!”
“Only psychos like sweet popcorn.”
“Oh, who the hell even picks salt and vinegar over Texas barbecue?”
“Me!”
Your phone pings, and Jaafar watches as you fish it out from the pocket of your sweats. He sighs and rolls his eyes, tossing the bag of kettle corn back in the cart and starting to push it towards the cashier as you follow beside him. “That’s the sixth time he’s texted you tonight,” he mutters with irritation.
You snort. “You’re counting?”
He rolls his eyes again. “It’s annoying hearing your notifications go off every five minutes.” You reach the cash register and the cashier rings up the snacks you’ve picked out. “And I don’t like that guy,” he adds, shaking his head.
“You don’t like anyone I date.”
“Because the people you date are assholes and have no idea what to do with you.” He pulls out his card and hands it to the cashier to pay. You used to protest whenever he bought you stuff but you’ve learned that it was basically hopeless when it came to Jaafar. He never lets you pay. Ever. He thought it was the least he could do after you’ve put up with him for so many years. “Seriously, it’s like you attract dickheads or something,” he says as he bags the snacks with a little more force than necessary.
You purse your lips together and tilt your head. “Don’t insult yourself like that, Jaafar.” A mischievous smile forms on your lips as you grab one of the packed bags and walk towards the sliding doors of the store.
He narrows his eyes at you before picking up the other bag and following after you. “Smartass. You know I’m better than all of them combined.”
You gape at him. “On what planet?”
“Earth, idiot.” He holds out his free hand to you and without even thinking, you reach out and lock your fingers together. Some people may think it’s weird but it’s normal for you and Jaafar to be physically affectionate. The two of you start to walk towards the direction of your apartment building. Recently, movie nights would usually be at Jaafar’s place but since he’s practically moved into the Hayvenhurst house to practice his role, you’ve been offering up your own apartment.
You shrug and challenge him, “Okay, fine. In what aspects are you better than them?”
“Oh, you wanna go there?”
“I’m going there.”
“Okay.” He faces you and releases his hand from yours, holding it up to count with his fingers. “I know you more than anyone, I spoil you, I spend time with you at least once a week, I know all your favorite things, I always got your back, and,” he pauses for dramatic effect and you roll your eyes.
He steps closer to you to say under his breath, “I can make you cum in more ways than one.” Then he slowly steps back, leaving you flustered with your face all hot. “And that’s just the bare minimum which a lot of the people you date can’t seem to do.” He intertwines his fingers with yours again and continues walking, pulling you along.
You pout and scoff. “What, are you saying I should be dating you instead?”
Jaafar’s breath hitches. “…No, dumbass… I’m- I’m saying you shouldn’t settle for less.” While it was true that he wanted you to find a good person to settle with, his heart aches a little at the thought of you being with someone else other than him.
Truth is he’s actually had romantic feelings for you for years but he never got the courage to actually say anything and it only got worse after the first night things got sexual. He was a coward, a big one. And he’d rather stay in this fucked up situation with you than risk completely losing you as his best friend. After all, he was the one who suggested no strings attached. It was stupid of him, he realized that long ago when you started dating people again and his jealousy skyrocketed. But he was in too deep now.
“Look, I appreciate your concern but Alex is nice. And we’re just texting, nothing serious.”
And now he’s even more irritated when you mention that name. Alex, Alex, Alex, you’re always talking about that Alex. That annoying guy from your advanced statistics class. Truthfully, he had no reason to not like the man. He’s met him before. He’s tall, somewhat good looking, and smart. From what Jaafar’s seen, he does actually seem like a decent guy. But something about that man just irks him.
And it’s not his jealousy. Definitely not. He’s just protective of you.
You reach your apartment building and he opens the door for you before following after you into the lobby. “I don’t care about Alex, I just… I just want the best for you…” he utters. The both of you walk up the stairs to the second floor of the building where your apartment is.
“I know that, Jaafar. And like I said, I appreciate your concern but like… you have to trust me.” You say as you fish out your keys from your pocket to open the door to your home.
He sighs, realizing you were right. He’s being irrational right now. “…Yeah, you’re right,” he replies. The door is unlocked now and you open it, walking in. Jaafar follows, making sure to close the door behind him. You both walk into the kitchen and place the bags of snacks from the store on the counter. “I’m sorry. I do trust you, I promise. I’m just… being weird,” he says as he takes the snacks out of the bags.
You chuckle as you grab a bowl from one of the cupboards to put the chips in. You reach out to pinch Jaafar’s cheek and he glares at you as you do but the small smile on his lips gives him away. “Aww it’s okay, Jaafar. It’s a good thing you’re aware.” He playfully swats your hand away and you laugh.
The two of you prepare your snacks together in the kitchen as you normally do, putting the chips in a big bowl and putting the candies you’ve bought in a separate one. It’s unhealthy yes, but it’s almost tradition for the both of you. When you’ve finished preparations, you settle on your couch already snacking on the chips while Jaafar sets up the movie on your TV.
“What are we watching again?" you ask as you munch on your chips.
“Dirty Dancing,” he replies, getting cozy next to you on the couch and instinctively placing his arm around your shoulders.
You hum and lean back against him naturally. You start singing one of the iconic songs from the movie’s soundtrack, something you liked to do to annoy Jaafar but even to your own ears, it sounded off. “I~ had~ the time of my li-”
“Please stop.”
“Yeah, my bad.”
--
Jaafar was really annoyed at the moment.
Actually, he was borderline pissed.
Not even halfway through the movie, your phone pings and you pull away from his arms to check on it. Alex texted you again, you didn’t even have to say it because he knew just from the smile that grew on your face. You were now on the other side of the couch with your phone in your hands, the light of it illuminating your grinning face in the dim room.
He tries not to let it get to him but the sound of your phone’s keyboard and your quiet giggles is making it really hard for him to control himself. It was supposed to be your night with him. But you’re over there texting some guy—some idiot—instead of focusing on the movie. Instead of focusing on him.
He had actually been looking forward to this night after a long week of rehearsals. You always did seem to calm him down and keep him sane with just your presence. But right now, you were doing the exact opposite.
When you let out a louder laugh from the corner of the couch, that’s when he decided he’s had enough.
He picks up the remote and pauses the movie. You don’t even notice, still giggling at what this Alex guy is texting you. You only break your gaze away from your phone when Jaafar gets up and turns the lights on.
“…Something wrong?” you ask, clearly oblivious to the irritation wavering off of him.
He scoffs. “Are you kidding me?” When your eyebrows furrow in confusion, he can only feel himself getting more agitated. “The movie’s halfway done and you’ve just been on your phone the entire time,” he says, gesturing to the phone that you still cradled in your hands.
He watches as a look of realization forms on your face when you look down at your hands. You place your phone down on the coffee table before replying, “Oh… I’m sorry… It’s cause Alex-”
He cuts you off when you mention him again. “Fucking Alex, will you ever stop talking about him?”
The hostility in his voice seems to take you aback. You stand up from your seat and cross your arms at him. “I happen to like Alex, Jaafar.”
He scoffs again, a smile forming on his face but it lacks warmth. “Obviously, cause he seems to have all your attention,” he retorts, sarcasm evident in his voice. He’s very angry. He’s not even thinking about what’s coming out of his mouth anymore.
“Okay, what the hell is your problem?”
His eyebrows raise. “My problem?” He lets out a breath. “My problem is that we’re supposed to be spending time together and watching a goddamn movie but all you’ve been doing is fucking… fiddling with your phone talking to him instead of paying attention to me. It’s like I don’t even exist!”
“And I get that. I’m sorry I got carried away; I shouldn’t have let myself. But he was asking me about my thesis and-”
“Jesus, can you stop talking about that asshole for five damn minutes?!”
He’s shouting now. And he regrets it as soon as he does because you flinch and step back. He’s never spoken to you like this in his life. Even when you had bumps in your friendship in the past, he’s never raised his voice at you. He raises his hands and buries them in his hair. “I’m sorry- I don’t know what’s wrong with me right now…”
The silence that takes over was deafening. Nothing could be heard except for Jaafar’s heavy breathing and the faint sound of crickets chirping from outside. When he looks back at you, he sees your brows furrowed and your eyes filled with hurt and confusion as you try to comprehend the situation. He opens his mouth to try to say something, anything. But nothing comes out.
So, you beat him to it.
“Is that what this is about?”
He’s puzzled. “…What do you mean?”
“Are you jealous?”
His jaw clenches. This is it. You’ve caught him. The first thought that enters his mind is he’s about to lose you. He’s about to lose his best friend. The only woman that ever mattered to him. His heart pounds in his chest as he thinks about what to say but the way you’re staring at him in anticipation makes it difficult. He knows now is the time to say the truth. You deserve to know.
But Jaafar’s a coward.
“Don’t piss me off.”
And a fucking dumbass, apparently.
Your immediate reaction is to scoff at his response. “You have got to be joking. You were the one who proposed this whole no feelings, no strings bullshit and now you’re jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” he instantly denies.
“Oh, you’re not?” He shakes his head when you question him with sarcasm laced in your voice. You pick your phone back up from the coffee table and start tapping.
“Okay, well if that’s the truth then you should be fine with it if I call-”
Your phone is suddenly taken from your hands by him and he throws it onto the couch. “Jaaf-” You’re cut off when he holds onto your face and crashes his lips onto yours. You’re startled at first, your hands curling against the fabric of his sweater. He half expects you to push him away but when he feels your mouth start moving back against his, he smirks into the kiss.
He slips his tongue into your mouth and you let out a whimper. It’s music to his ears. He loves hearing you let out all sorts of noises when he’s making you feel good. It boosts his ego. Makes him feel like he’s the only man in the world. He likes to think that he’s the only one who can make you feel this way. That he’s the only one who knows all your weaknesses.
His hands trail down to your waist, then to your ass, then down to your thighs. He pulls back for a second. “Jump,” he orders. You do as he says and jump, wrapping your legs around his hips. He holds you up by your thighs, kissing down your neck and leaving marks as he takes you to your bedroom.
He pushes the door open and he kicks it back shut once entered. He drops you down onto your bed and stands upright to rid of his sweater and undershirt, making sure to keep his eyes on yours. He sees you rake your eyes all over his upper body and his chest swells with pride. God, did it make him feel good when you looked at him like that.
He tosses the pieces of clothing somewhere in the room before crawling over you on the bed. He leans down to nose at your neck, his breath tickling you. He goes up to your ear and whispers, “Why would I be jealous… if I have you right here?” You shudder as he nips at your earlobe. One of his hands trail up under your shirt as he kisses down your neck. His hand goes higher, and when he feels the absence of a certain material, he pulls back slightly to look at you.
“No bra?”
You roll your eyes. “You act like that’s something new.” Right. A stupid question on his part. Why would you even bother wearing a bra around him when he’s seen, touched, and had his tongue on your bare tits more times than you could count?
The corner of his mouth quirks up at your response. “My bad,” he utters before tugging up your shirt, signaling for you to raise your arms so he can fully take it off of you. When he’s discarded of the fabric, he licks his lips as his eyes run over your naked torso. He could never get enough of admiring your body. To him, you were the most beautiful woman in the world and no one could ever compare. “So fucking pretty,” he sighs out. He looks back up at you. “Can I put my mouth on you?”
You say yes, of course. You could never say no to that. Jaafar wastes no time leaning in and taking your left nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and sucking. You gasp and bite your lip, your hands moving to tangle in his curls. “Fuck- Jaafar-” you moan out when his fingers reach up to twiddle and pinch at your other nipple. He likes to make sure every part of you is given enough attention.
He feels you tug onto his hair, making him grunt into you. He’s made it known to you in the past how much he liked whenever you played and tugged with his hair and ever since then, you’ve been doing it a lot more. His pants are starting to feel too tight on him now, but his priority in moments like this has always been your pleasure first.
He pulls off of your breast with a pop and goes in to kiss you again, his tongue dancing with yours as his hand now slides down to cup your heat over your sweats and it makes your hips jerk up suddenly. He leans back, a string of saliva connecting you before it breaks. “Look at me.” He holds onto your chin with his fingers to keep your eyes on him. “I’m the only one that can make you feel like this,” his middle finger grazes against your clothed clit making you whine, “aren’t I?” he finishes.
You push your hips up against his hand to get more friction but he takes his hand off and tsks. “Answer the question.”
You breathe out and sigh, “Yes.”
A grin forms on his face. “Yeah?”
“Yes, you are! Fuck- please take ‘em off.”
He grants your wish with a smug smile on his face. He slides off of you to stand at the edge of the bed before untying your sweats and pulling them off, the fabric tickling your skin as it comes off. He bunches it up and tosses it away before looking back at you.
And he couldn’t help but palm himself over his pants at the sight.
Fuck, you just looked so good with your hair spread out all over the sheets and your entire body on display for him. You still had your cotton panties on, albeit they were practically ruined by now with the wet spot evident. “Look at you, all soaked for me.” He reaches his hand out to thumb your clit over your underwear, easing a whimper out of you.
“Jaafar, quit teasing-”
“Shh, let me take my time, babe. It’s the least you can do after ignoring me.”
He smiles when you pout and glare at him from where you were. He couldn’t resist leaning over and giving you a small peck on the lips. “Cutie,” he says. He toys with the band of your panties, pulling on them and letting them snap back onto your skin. “I wanna taste you.” He chuckles when he sees your eyes practically sparkle at that. He knew you liked his tongue. You liked basically whatever he did to you, but Jaafar was especially good with his mouth.
He steps back with his hands on your legs before he pulls you to the edge of the bed until your thighs were on either side of him. Then he tugs on your panties, slowly dragging them off of you before throwing them to the side. He kneels down between your legs and groans as he takes in the sight. “God, you’re dripping onto the sheets,” he mutters before turning his head to the side, placing kisses on your inner thigh.
He feels you shudder against him as you whine out his name yet again. “Please,” you plead, your hands reaching down to rake through his curls. He hums in response then looks up at you.
“Say that again?”
“…Please, I need your tongue…”
He smiles. “Since you asked so nicely.” He leans forward and his fingers gently spread your lips apart. He darts his tongue out to slowly lick a stripe from your hole all the way up to your clit, making you shiver as your hold on his hair tightens.
“Jaafar,” you call his name out again and you start to tug on his curls. He hums against you as he licks at your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before wrapping his lips around it to suck. Your back arches off of the bed and your legs threaten to close at the amount of pleasure you were feeling but he holds them apart as he continues to do his work.
You can’t hold your moans back anymore. The sounds were bouncing off the walls of the room but he didn’t seem to care and it instead seemed to fuel his appetite for you even more. You moan out his name again and again and again as his movements started to become more vigorous and you could hear how filthy it was. Every single time he licked and slurped, you could hear it from where you were and it drove you crazy.
He loved it when you called out his name like this. It lets him know that he was the one making you feel this good. That only he was capable of pulling out these sounds from you. Not anyone else. And definitely not that Alex.
Then he feels you pull on his hair again. Your moans are higher pitched now. You’re close. It hasn’t even been five minutes and he’s already gotten you to the edge. You call out his name again, “Jaafar- Fuck, I’m-” you stutter out, but you couldn’t finish with how good you were feeling.
He reaches one of his hands up and intertwine it with yours, with his eyes looking straight at you, watching you as he pleasures you with his tongue. “Let go,” he mutters before diving back in.
Your hand tightens around his when you near your peak and before he knows it, you’re releasing all over his mouth and chin, gushing all over as you moan out his name. But even as you finish, he doesn’t stop immediately, still gently licking around your heat, taking everything he can get.
You tug onto his hand which was still locked with yours and say his name again, “Jaafar,” you whine out as you shiver, already feeling a little sensitive from the amount of contact. He obliges, placing one last kiss on your clit and lifts himself up.
God, were you a sight for sore eyes.
You were glowing. Your body was glistening with sweat as your chest was rapidly moving up and down with how heavy your breathing was. The thought of anyone else seeing you like this drives him insane. Only he should be able to see you in this light. Only he should be able to touch you all over and make you quiver with pleasure.
He leans down to caress your face. “Good?” he asks, a smug smirk playing on his lips.
“Oh, fuck you.”
That makes him laugh as he leans in to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “You will, baby, don’t worry,” he says as he pulls back and straightens up, reaching into his pocket to pull out his wallet. He opens it and takes out a condom before tossing it to the side and then sliding off his pants along with his boxers.
His thick cock springs out and he gently strokes on it, sighing. He brings the condom up to his mouth and opens it with his teeth. He moves to roll it onto him but pauses when he catches your eye. You’ve scooted back against the pillows and you’re leaning back on your elbows now with your eyes dark and lidded. You’re looking at him with so much want, so much desire in your eyes that it makes his dick twitch in his hand.
You tilt your head and the corner of your mouth twitches up when you notice him pause his movements. “Sometime today, Jaafar?”
He narrows his eyes at you and scoffs, shaking his head before continuing to roll the condom onto himself. Then he crawls onto the bed towards you, like a predator stalking its prey. “Little minx,” he says as he slowly spreads your legs and he situates himself in between them.
“What’d I do?” you ask, quite obviously feigning innocence.
“Look at me like that.”
He takes his cock in his hand and slowly drags it up and down your core, making you sigh out. “You’re looking at me like that when you’re texting another man.” He slowly pushes into you, letting out a low moan when the warmth of your walls engulfs him. He sees you bite your lip and close your eyes, holding back a moan when he bottoms out. “The nerve of you, really.”
He tilts your head, calling your name out to keep your eyes open and on him. “Does he know I get to fuck you like this?” He starts thrusting into you. The pace is slow but his every time he thrusted back into you, it reached up to the hilt. He reaches down to rub onto your clit with his thumb as his hips crash against yours. His other hand is gently caressing your face as you look up at him with your lips parted and high-pitched moans coming out of it. He groans when your walls tighten around him. “Ah- fuck- Huh? Does he?”
You shake your head rapidly, unable to form any coherent words, too lost in the way his cock feels inside of you. “He can’t make you feel this good, huh?” he asks, his breathing getting heavier as his thrusts steadily become faster and faster. “I’m the only one that can, right?” He knows he’s asked it already, but he needs to hear it from you again.
You try to nod your head but Jaafar tsks. “No, use your words, baby.” You whimper, your hands coming up and around his shoulders. He hisses when he feels your nails scratch against his back.
“Yes- only you- o-only you can make me feel good- fuck!”
“Good.”
He then places his hands on your hips and thrusts even harder, making the headboard of your bed slam against the wall. Your moans were loud now and so were his. Your neighbors could probably hear you getting fucked right now. A noise complaint was bound to be made. But in this moment, neither of you cared about that.
Jaafar falls forward, burying his face in your neck as he moves his hips. “Fuck- fuck you feel so fucking good,” he moans. He balances himself on his forearms and stares at your face. You look so beautiful like this. All fucked out with pieces of your hair sticking to your face because of how much you’re sweating. Your lips were slightly swollen from how much you were biting on them and the marks he left on your neck were already starting to bruise.
Fuck’s sake, his heart is about to burst in his chest. Just looking at you has that effect on him. He leans his forehead on yours as he feels himself get closer to the edge. You were getting close too, and he can tell with the way you were tightening around him and how your nails were digging into his skin. Your legs have also wrapped around his hips in attempt to push him impossibly closer to you.
“Jaafar- please- I- I’m-”
“I know, baby, I know. I’m close too.”
He reaches down again to rub on your clit and it makes you arch your back into him, whimpering out loud. “C’mon,” he utters. Then he feels you finish around him. Your walls flutter against him and your lips part, letting out a cry of his name. Jaafar’s eyes glisten with admiration. You look absolutely gorgeous losing yourself on his cock, it’s driving him crazy.
He leans his forehead back against yours again as he feels himself reach his peak. In the midst of his euphoria, he doesn’t register what comes out of his mouth.
“Fuck, I love you.”
Then he crashes his mouth against yours, swallowing your moans as he releases. His hips twitch against yours as he holds you tightly against him. A few seconds later, he pulls away and lets himself fall down beside you on the bed, his forearm resting on his forehead as he catches his breath.
The silence that follows was blaring. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of your breaths. Jaafar stares up at the ceiling when he realizes what he blurted out during his high. He really fucked up now. Truthfully, he felt like crying and he felt like he should get up and leave before you inevitably do. But when he feels you shift beside him, he’s brought back to the situation.
He stands up and discards of the used condom before grabbing his boxers—which somehow ended up on your desk on the other side of the room—and putting them on. He sees you sit up on the bed with a worried look in your eyes and he realizes what it looked like to you. It looked like he was trying to get out.
“I’m just gonna go grab a wet towel,” he reassures, giving you a small smile though it doesn’t reach his eyes. He watches as you nod slowly with a look of relief on your face, lying back down against the pillows. He then leaves the room and makes his way to your kitchen, pouring a glass of water for you and grabbing a small clean towel from one of the cupboards and wetting it in the sink.
He stands there as he watches the cloth absorb the water. He’s really done it this time. He knows he can’t escape it now. Not with what he just said. His eyes start to burn as he thinks about what would happen back in your room. He’s convinced you’re going to leave him and end whatever this was between you two. He thinks maybe this would be the last time he’d ever see you and it feels like he’s being stabbed in the chest.
But you’re still in your room. You still need him to take care of you after he had just fucked you into oblivion. So, he turns off the faucet and squeezes the excess water out the towel before grabbing the glass of water he poured and making his way back to your room.
When he returns, he notices how you were lost in thought, staring at the ceiling. He clears his throat which makes you snap your head towards him. You give him a small smile and he attempts to give one back, but it ended up looking a little weird with how much anxiety he was feeling at the moment.
He walks over to you and hands you the glass of water which you thank him for before taking big gulps. He sits down on the bed and uses the wet towel he brought to gently wipe away at your legs, your inner thighs, and in between your legs.
Neither of you speak as Jaafar cleans you up, wiping away at parts of your body, being extra gentle when he grazes spots where he had marked you. He might be in a mental dilemma right now, but your comfort was always his top concern. He’d face the consequences of his actions in a minute.
When he’s finished, he sets the towel on the nightstand and pats your thigh, pointing to the bathroom, signaling for you to do your business. You try to protest, saying you were tired but the stern look he gives you makes you get up and do as he says.
He stays where he is, sitting there on the edge of the bed, looking down at his hands. He’s scared shitless. Scared for your relationship. He thinks about what you would say. If you would ask him to leave and to never contact you again. Jaafar’s convinced that he deserves it. That you should cut him off after this mess. But he still didn’t want to let you go. Like he said abruptly earlier, he loves you. Way too much.
You return from the bathroom, and stop in front of him. He looks up at you and meets your gaze. He can’t read your expression right now and it’s making him anxious. So, he speaks up.
“…Should I leave?”
Your eyebrows furrow and you sigh. To his surprise, you move to sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around him and straddling him on the edge of the bed. You bury your face in his neck and he automatically circles his arms around your waist, placing a kiss on your bare shoulder before resting his chin on it. You stay like that for a while, just relaxing in each other’s arms. Jaafar’s a little confused by your actions but he just lets it happen. This is much better than you telling him to get out.
Eventually, you break the silence.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
He sighs, pulling back slightly to look you in the eye. He cups your cheek with one hand, his thumb gently caressing your skin. “I’m a dumbass, that’s why,” he says. He smiles slightly when the corner of your lips quirk up at his response. But then he looks back down, biting his lip out of nervousness. “I’ve had feelings for you since we were seniors in high school but I was just scared to ruin everything… I didn’t wanna lose my best friend.”
Your lips part in shock. “…Since high school?”
He nods, a tight-lipped smile forming his lips. “And then that night happened… when we got drunk and… you know… I got worse after that pretty much…” He doesn’t look you in the eye after that, looking down again and fiddling with his fingers. He doesn’t know where this was going. Truthfully, he feels like he’s getting mixed signals from you right now.
But then you say, “…You remember senior prom?”
He looks up at you and hums in approval. Though, he looks confused. Why were you bringing this up so randomly?
“I was supposed to go with Kyle Jenkins. You remember him?”
He snorts. “Yeah, that asshole who stood you up. I was about to go hunt him down and beat some sense into him but you stopped me.” He remembers that night distinctly. He found you crying by entrance of the school gym alone in your pretty little dress with your hair and makeup done and everything. He was beyond pissed that night and genuinely wanted to look for the guy to beat him up. But you begged him not to and just stay with you which he did.
You chuckle and nod. “Mhm… then you stayed with me and gave me quite the pep talk while I was bawling my eyes out.”
He laughs and shrugs before replying, “Well, I wasn’t just gonna sit there and do nothing. You looked way too pretty to be crying that night.” He smiles at the memory. He didn’t have a date that night either so why would he even bother doing anything else but be with you? “…I danced with you too.”
You smile. “That you did. And you know what?” You cup his face in your hands and look directly into his eyes. His breath hitches for a second. You’re so beautiful. So gorgeous, it hurts.
“That was the night I realized I was in love with you.”
Jaafar’s heart stops.
His eyes widen and his lips part. He feels like he’s going to collapse right then and there. Did he hear you right? Was he dreaming? Maybe he’d gone to sleep right after that orgasm he just had with you and this was all just a cruel dream.
“You… what does that mean?”
You let out a light chuckle. “I love you, Jaafar… I’ve been loving you… I guess I’m a dumbass too for not telling you sooner.”
Holy shit, he’s about to combust. He can’t even bring himself to move right now for fear that all of this will somehow be ruined if he does. But then, a smile slowly splits his face. A really big one. And then he laughs at the ridiculousness of it all. He could have confessed to you years ago and you would have returned his feelings. God, he was stupid.
Then he kisses you, but unlike the ones he gave you a while ago, this one was sweet. Calmer, softer, warmer. There was no rush to it. He savors it and grins into it. He’s filled with so much happiness right now he could burst.
He slowly pulls away and looks into your eyes with so much love and affection. But then he remembers something and his eyebrows suddenly furrow.
“But what about…” he trails off. But he thinks you know what he’s talking about.
What about Alex?
You sigh. “Yeah, he’s a lost cause.”
That has him confused again. “I thought you liked him? You always talked about him.”
You let out another sigh before replying, “I was trying to like him. It’s stupid but I was so caught up with you that I tried looking for… a connection with other people. And Alex is nice and funny and academically smart but… he’s such an airhead sometimes… most times, actually.”
That makes him burst out laughing and you do as well. “Well, I’d love for you to tell me more about how much of a moron he is in the future, but I don’t really wanna hear about him right now.” That makes you giggle and he leans in for another kiss.
The stupidness of it all. If one of you had just said something, you would’ve been hitting it off for years already. But Jaafar figures there’s no use dwelling on it anymore. He has you in his arms now and he’s happy. You’re happy. Right now, he’s already thinking about all the ways he could make up for lost time.
He leans back from the kiss and places a short one on your forehead. “What now?” he asks.
You hum. “How about we take a shower first and then talk about it?”
He likes that idea a lot.
He pecks you on the lips with a smile. “Alright. Let’s.”
jaafar would be the absolute best partner to bring home and i know this for a fact
first of all, he's Respectful. he's got manners, he knows just the right thing to say in any situation (and plus, with all of his media appearances, he's gotten used to being asked crazy questions and trying not to seemed fazed by it - your family can throw anything they want his way, he's gonna take it)
and he's got the perfect PDA balance down. he's not awkwardly sitting next to you, afraid for your arms to even be touching, but he's obviously not throwing himself at you either. it'll be a soft squeeze of his hand around yours, a light graze on your lower back as he passes by, a kiss to your cheek or forehead while you sit next to each other.
the de-brief would go crazy. "they liked me, right? it went well?" "jaafar, if they could replace me with you, they would."
"and i see what you mean about your cousin now..." "i told you, that whole situation was messy"
any family member who's opinion matters to you absolutely gushes about him the second you leave. they see how well he treats you, and how he makes an effort to make a good impression on everyone, and he's simply the sweetest.
driving around your hometown and pointing out all the important spots, like where you worked and where you went to high school, where your ex-best friend lives and the parking lot that everyone would go to and hook up (you've never been. jaafar offers to make a stop there and he's only mostly teasing). but the whole time he's just so wrapped up in all your stories, asking questions and laughing in all the right places.
he loves getting to see this other side of you, getting to learn and see firsthand where you grew up and the kind of person you were as a kid, as a teenager. and you take him to your childhood favorite restaurant and it's just as good as you remember, and he's just beaming from ear to ear because you look so content, so peaceful.
and at larger family gatherings, all of the younger relatives just seem to flock to him. he's happy to play basketball or catch or tag with whoever asks and the kids just absolutely adore him, and obviously they ask all sorts of questions that he just stumbles over until you come back and save him from the onslaught of questions about if you're dating and when you'll get married and why hasn't he asked and do you live together and where do you live and do you both sleep in the same bed and how come you live so far away and who gets to be the flower girl and and and
again, he's Respectful. he's making sure you have a plate and that you've got a drink before he even thinks about eating. and he's happy to get up and make sure that all the older relatives don't have to get anything themselves. he's offering to help bring food out or refill coolers or run out to get more ice (even though he doesn't know where to go). he even lets you steal food off of his plate, even as he side-eyes you because you've got that grin on your face that says you know you're pushing his buttons and you love it.
but at the end of the day, everyone just absolutely loves him. and he's over the moon that things went well, that it was so easy to get along with all of the most important people in your life and seeing him on your childhood bed, feet hanging over the edge, you've never been happier.
Heyyyy queen can you write a fic where the reader goes through a rough break up and her best friends randy jermajesty and jaafar help her deal with it ps I LOVE your fics you're so talented 💗
Breakup therapy
A/n: Thank you!!! I love this dynamic btw
Contains: Angst, fluff, humor, bestie dynamics
Summary: A tough breakup requires much needed care and luckily your best friends will always be there for you.
Your mascara ran down your cheeks, leaving a black trail from your puffy eyes. You cried quietly in your bed in absolute distress.
Your boyfriend of one whole year just broke up with you. He used the excuse of, "Focusing on himself" knowing damn well, he just was interested in the cheerleading captain.
"WE'RE HERE!" You heard a familiar voice yell from downstairs. You watched your three best friends barge into your room.
You texted the group chat right after, and they didn't hesitate to come over.
They all took a seat on your bed, making you sit up. "Ugh, you look terrible." Jaafar sighed, making Randy smack his shoulder. "In a pretty way." Jaafar continued making you cry even more.
"Yea, we need some serious therapy." Randy joked, rubbing your back. Jermajesty began rummaging through the plastic bag he brought, taking out ice cream and a plastic spoon.
You sniffled, as your eyes landed on the carton of your favorite ice cream. Your hands flew out to grab at it. "Someone's greedy." Jermajesty laughed handing it to you.
You didn't waste any time tearing the top off, stabbing the frozen dessert with your plastic spoon. You were craving ice cream to drown out your sorrows, but you had no energy to get out of bed. "Want me to put on ATL?" Jaafar asked knowing it was one of your favorite movies.
You swallowed the spoonful of ice cream and nodded. He grabbed your remote and put on the movie, letting it run in the background.
"You want us to go jump him for you?" Jermajesty asked after hearing another sniffle. You shook your head no, "You can get the first hit." Jaafar said, jutting his bottom lip out.
A laugh tumbled from your lips, cracking your first smile in the past five hours. "There she go." Randy said. "We already making progress."
"Wasn't even funny." You rolled your eyes, using the sleeve of your hoodie to wipe your tear-stained face.
"Okay, so explain to me what he said to you again?" Jermajesty asked. You groaned, tossing your head back on the pillow. You didn't even want to think of him.
"He said he needed to focus on himself because his grades are slipping and stuff."
"Is that not valid?" Jaafar whispered to Randy. "But then I caught him with his arm wrapped around Mona at the party the other night."
"Oh, crap the one we went to together??" Jaafar gasped covering his mouth. "You were too busy feeling up on that girl." Jermajesty said using his index finger to poke Jaafar's forehead.
"You should've told us, we would have said something." Randy said.
"I didn't want to cause a scene." You shook your head, patting your bonnet.
"He's ugly anyway." Jaafar shrugged.
"Jaafar." You side-eyed.
"Fine, his dick was small."
"How the hell would you know that?" Jermajesty looked at him, eyebrows pinched in concern.
"People talk." Jaafar shrugged.
You let out another laugh, feeling your spirits lift. Leave it to your friends to take you out of your rut.
"Let's go egg his house." You grinned, making them erupt into cheers. They didn't hesitate to run downstairs, grabbing a couple egg cartons.
"Not too much though! Inflation is up right now." You yelled.
hey queeennn, could i suggest a black reader doing the mute deaf and blind challenge with jaafar, jermajesty, and randy jr and their either baking or cooking idm and its just nun but cute and funny moments
Blind, Mute, Deaf
A/n: Asks temporarily closed!!
Contains: Humor
Summary: You decided to try a challenge with your bestfriends.
“Wassup YOU-.” Jaafar quickly placed his palm over your mouth knowing where your sentence was going.
“I’m so tired of her and this intro.” Jaafar complained rolling his eyes.
“Well I’ll do the intro, HEY GUYS! It’s your favorite Jackson, Jermajesty here.” You rolled your eyes, pushing Jaafar’s hand off your face.
“Today, we’ll be baking a cake but with a twist, Ran tell them what it is.” You said with a smile.
“While we’re baking, one of us won’t be able to see, another won’t be able hear, and another won’t be able to talk.” Randy explained.
“Wait….there’s four of us.” Jaafar said. “Exactly so Jaafar you’re the judge.” You told him.
“Oh hell no.”
•••
“Can you see?” You asked jermajesty after tying the bandana around his eyes. “Nothing but black.” He stuck his thumbs up.
“Randy, can you hear me?” You asked Randy, who was dancing to whatever song was playing. He continue to dance not even making eye contact with you.
“Well that’s settled. Now finally me.”
“LET ME DO IT!” Jaafar yelled taking the piece of tape from your fingers before quickly placing it on your mouth.
You shot him a middle finger as he went to sit behind the camera to watch the chaos.
•••
“Where’s the egg?” Jermajesty asked feeling around the counter full of ingredients.
Instead of carefully feeling around, he was rapidly swinging his hands.
“MMM.” You tried to warn him but you couldn’t watching him get closer and closer to the eggs.
Randy was too busy bopping his head, pouring dry ingredients to a bowl.
Before you could reach out to Jermajesty, his hand knocked two eggs on the floor making you jump back.
“….I think I found them.” He said.
Jaafar busted out laughing.
•••
“WHAT?!” Randy yelled as you pointed towards the bowl. His eyebrows were pinched in confusion as he picked up the bowl with the dry ingredients.
You shook your head, motioning to pour the wet ingredients in. “POUR IT?!”
You flinched at his volume but nodded. You looked at the camera before lifting and dropping your shoulders indicating a deep sigh.
•••
“MAJ NO!” Randy yelled running to stop Jermajesty from pouring the batter down the sink.
Randy managed to snatch the bowl before anything fell.
“So I’m assuming that wasn’t the pan.” Jermajesty said turning every which of way, thinking he’s facing the camera.
•••
“Wait guys, do the Charlie’s angel pose.” Jaafar suggested. Randy didn’t hear but he saw you and Jermajesty form gun fingers and followed along.
“Maj, you’re facing the wrong way.” Jaafar pointed out and Jermajesty turned his finger guns now having his back towards the camera.
“You know what….that’ll work.”
•••
“Say something if you don’t think we’re meant to be.” Jermajesty joked holding on to your shoulder.
“MMMMM.” You muffled, “She loves me guys.” He told the camera.
“Okay, say something if I’m not your favorite.” Jaafar told you.
“MMMM.”
“As I thought.” He shrugged.
•••
“GOING DOWN!” Randy yelled as he accidentally slipped on the broken egg spill that Jermajesty made earlier.
You attempted to catch him but Randy is a pretty large dude so you ended up falling too.
“What the hell was that?” Jermajesty asked going to walk towards the sound but he tripped on your ankle sending him falling too.
Jaafar literally had tears in his eyes as he watched you all groan on the floor.
•••
You stared at the frosting wanting to taste it so bad but was restricted from the tape on you mouth. “Awww you want some?” Jaafar pouted at you.
He reached over to dip his finger in the frosting, tasting it from his finger.
“Oh that was delicious, too bad, so sad.” He shrugged at you.
•••
As you walked past Jermajesty, you pinched his butt making him gasp and turn around.
“WHO THE FUCKKK WAS THAT?!”
•••
“Finally, it’s time.” Jaafar said. You, Randy, and Jermajesty stood with your hands in front of you, headphones, tape, and bandana off, waiting for Jaafar’s reaction.
“The cake looks a mess but edible.” Jaafar analyzed.
He took a bite and you practically held your breath.
Jaafar tilted his head as he chewed, a shocked on his face.
“Guys…” he said with a smile.
All three of you smiled, feeling accomplished that Jaafar enjoyed.
“This shit is ass.” He said making everyone shoulders drop.
you could already hear the whimpers your boyfriend started pathetically moaning out the second he found out you weren’t stopping even after he came.
Jaafar was laid down on his back, looking at you, fisting the sheets with both hands, due to you telling him not to touch you.
Everytime he tried to slow you down you would slap him, explained the red mark slowly forming on the right side of his face.
"I already came, please." He cried, real tears spilling out of his eyes. You rolled yours and kept going, if anything, tightening your grip around his nine inches.
You stared at his face, obsessed with how it was changing every few seconds, glancing down at his stomach just to see it caving in.
“Why you doing me li— like this? Huh? Please mommy."
His pleads went in one ear and out the other, and honestly it was because he knew the exact reason. The last time you guys had sex was on Valentine’s Day, he fucked you for hours, different positions, even had it on camera. You just had to get your lick back.
It started off with a simple jerk off, teasing him, you were gonna stop the first time he came but something about his face when he nutted all on your hand like a good boy, something switched in her head, picking up the pace you could watch his relaxed state change into a worried one.
"Please." He cried out, letting go of the sheets to grab your hand, slowing you down. You knew he didn’t want you to stop, there would be times hes literally shaking, still begging you to keep touching him.
Your eyes flickered up, eyebrows furrowed at the audacity of him to attempting to slow you down. You fixed your postion a bit, watching as your boyfriend’s eyes widened.
"Wait im so sorry pl-" His eyes followed you as you slightly hovered over him. You cut him off with the slap of your hand over his mouth, now thrusting your hand over his cock harder and faster.
His eyes got teary instantly, his legs moving all over the bed.
“don’t cry, baby. listen to me.” You said, just above a whisper. Jaafar looked at you, nodding over and over again.
"Your gonna take my hand, cause im almost done okay?" You smiled, talking in such a coy tone.
೯ warning: lots of fluff and whiny maj ( this is the request )
a man cold was something you had always rolled your eyes at. every boyfriend, brother, cousin, or guy friend you had ever known swore it was somehow far worse than any cold a woman could ever catch. they talked about it like it was a near death experience, dragging themselves around the house dramatically while insisting they were on the verge of seeing the light. you always laughed it off, convinced they were all just exaggerating for sympathy.
that was until jermajesty got sick.
the moment he woke up that morning, you knew something was wrong. he barely spoke above a whisper, his usually warm smile replaced with a miserable pout as he shuffled around the apartment wrapped in his favorite oversized hoodie. by lunchtime he had completely surrendered to the couch, buried beneath two blankets despite insisting every few minutes that he was somehow freezing and burning up at the same time. his nose had turned the brightest shade of red from constantly rubbing at it, his curls were flattened and sticking out in every direction from tossing and turning against the cushions, and every few minutes another dramatic sigh escaped him before it dissolved into another fit of coughs and sniffles.
you tried your hardest not to laugh because, despite how pitiful he looked, he somehow managed to make being sick look theatrical.
"baby... can you grab me some more tissues?" he mumbled through another congested sniffle, his voice noticeably raspier than usual as he reached toward the empty tissue box sitting beside him. his watery brown eyes followed you with the saddest expression imaginable, almost as if walking the ten feet to the coffee table himself would've been impossible.
you couldn't help the small smile tugging at your lips as you stood from your spot beside him. "you've gone through another whole box already?" you asked, picking up the empty cardboard before disappearing down the hallway closet where you'd practically created your own little pharmacy throughout the day. tissues, cough drops, vapor rub, tea bags, extra blankets, electrolyte packets, every remedy you could think of had somehow found its way into one corner of the apartment.
when you returned with another unopened box, jermajesty looked at you like you had personally delivered him salvation.
"you're an angel," he murmured dramatically, immediately pulling another tissue free before blowing his nose for what had to be the hundredth time that day.
you placed the box down beside him before sitting back against the couch, gently brushing a few curls away from his forehead. they were softer than usual, warm beneath your fingertips from the slight fever he'd been pretending wasn't there.
"maj, baby, you really need to take your medicine," you said softly, reaching toward the bottle of cold medicine that had remained untouched on the coffee table for hours. "it's not going to magically disappear if you keep pretending it doesn't exist."
he frowned immediately, his face scrunching up with the same stubborn expression you knew all too well.
"i don't need it."
you stared at him.
"jermajesty."
"i'm serious," he insisted, pulling the blanket higher over his shoulders until only his nose and eyes were visible. "my body just has to fight it off naturally."
you let out a quiet cjuckle. "naturally?"
he nodded once, completely serious despite looking absolutely ridiculous wrapped up like a burrito.
"yeah. i'll sleep it off."
"or," you replied patiently, holding up the medicine bottle with a raised eyebrow, "you could let modern medicine help your body fight it off."
he shook his head immediately.
"absolutely not."
"you're twenty five years old."
"exactly."
"that doesn't even make sense."
he simply shrugged before letting himself slide farther down into the couch, determined to avoid taking even the smallest sip of medicine. it wasn't that he was afraid of it, he was just impossibly stubborn. somewhere in his head he had convinced himself that resting, drinking tea, and receiving an endless amount of affection from you counted as medical treatment.
honestly, judging by how attached he had become to you over the last twelve hours, maybe he wasn't entirely wrong.
he refused to let you sit anywhere that wasn't directly beside him. every time you stood up to refill his water, make another cup of tea, or throw away another mountain of tissues, his sleepy eyes immediately tracked your every movement until you came back.
"where are you going?" he'd ask every single time, sounding genuinely concerned.
"to the kitchen."
"...can you come back soon?"
"i'm literally grabbing your soup."
"okay... just checking."
it was almost endearing enough to make you forget how impossible he was being.
after convincing him to eat a few spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup and drink nearly an entire bottle of water, you settled back onto the couch beside him. without saying a word, jermajesty slowly shifted until his head rested comfortably in your lap, letting out a quiet sigh the second your fingers instinctively found his curls.
his eyes fluttered closed as you gently scratched against his scalp, carefully working through the knots that had formed from him spending the entire day lying down. every so often he leaned into your touch without even realizing he was doing it, the tension slowly melting from his shoulders.
after several peaceful moments, he looked up at you with tired, glassy brown eyes.
"thank you for taking care of me, princess," he whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. "i really appreciate it."
your heart softened immediately.
you smiled to yourself before brushing another curl away from his forehead and leaning down to press a lingering kiss against his warm skin.
"you take care of me every time i'm sick," you reminded him quietly, your fingers never leaving his hair. "you make me soup, force me to drink water, and somehow convince me to take medicine even when i don't want to. i'm just returning the favor, my love."
his lips curved into the smallest smile, one that looked completely exhausted but just as genuine as always.
"i think i'm dying."
you couldn't stop yourself from laughing this time, the sound filling the apartment as you gently pinched his cheek.
"you're surviving a cold."
"the worst cold."
"the world's bravest patient."
he let out a weak laugh before another sniffle interrupted him, burying his face deeper into your lap with an embarrassed groan.
"don't make fun of the sick guy."
"i would never," you teased, smiling as you reached for another tissue before handing it to him. "now blow your nose, drink your tea, and then we're talking about that medicine again."
he groaned dramatically, already knowing he was eventually going to lose that argument, but for now he simply took the tissue from your hand before curling back against you. despite all his complaints, his breathing slowly evened out beneath your gentle touch, and within minutes he had drifted asleep, still clutching the blanket in one hand while the other lazily rested around your waist. you stayed exactly where you were, absentmindedly running your fingers through his curls, smiling to yourself as you realized that maybe men really did believe their colds were the end of the world, and judging by the way jermajesty looked so peaceful resting against you, maybe being spoiled a little while he recovered wasn't such a bad cure after all.
