› 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 : Trying to flee after the rush of people, you run into a boy who doesn't seem to want to stop following you after helping him.
› 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : I watched this movie yesterday and as a fan of Joseph Quinn, I simply fell in love with Eric, I need more of him. + English is not my first language, sorry if there are any mistakes 😿
› 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀 : 2.7k
The large and loud raindrops fell with no intention of stopping. Minutes earlier, the helicopters had asked us to move to the water's edge, supposedly to be rescued, but it seemed everything went wrong. The creatures emerged from their hiding places and attacked us. The brief moment of calm vanished in less than five seconds. People were screaming and running in all directions. To be honest, I doubted we would get out of here.
I hid under a car, waiting for whoever was still around to leave. Carefully, I started to emerge from my hiding place, praying that I wouldn't make any loud noises and attract those things again.
As soon as I came out, I couldn't help but look at the sky. It had been a long time since I had felt the rain, and despite the circumstances, I still loved it. I decided to walk toward a sheltered place, taking slow and cautious steps while hugging myself. I looked around; not a single human was nearby, only destruction—or so I thought until I saw a white cat with small black spots in front of me. It looked so unreal that I didn't know if I was hallucinating or not, so with some fear, I abandoned my plan to find shelter and approached the cute kitten.
The rain seemed to intensify more and more. I could hear a couple of thunderclaps in the distance, but I still didn't stop following the kitten, which had stayed still in what appeared to be a flooded subway entrance. The little cat turned to look at me, appearing so calm with its big, bright eyes. It then turned back to the water and bent down to drink. I took this opportunity to sit beside it, simply admiring it.
Everything was peaceful—just the kitten and me—until something emerged from the water, startling us. I jumped back, not caring much about the bump I would get, and quickly covered my mouth with my hands to stifle a possible scream. My heart was racing at an impressive speed. I didn't even want to breathe, thinking it might be one of those creatures. But all the fear vanished when I heard what sounded like heavy breathing. Slowly, I removed my hands from my mouth and approached the bars, looking down at the flooded stairs and seeing a boy.
He looked somewhat scared. I couldn't imagine how long he had been underwater. The boy looked at me, tilting his head slightly as if examining me. I frowned, and shortly after, he turned to look at the cat. The little feline was beside me, so he looked at both of us before emerging from the water.
I moved from my spot to help him, extending my hand, hoping he would take it. Though he hesitated at first, he eventually took my hand and accepted my help. Once he was out, I looked around, searching for the cat, but it seemed to have gone. However, I quickly spotted it again; it had moved three or four spots ahead, seemingly heading to an alley.
I dusted off my clothes a bit and started following the cat, but I could hear a pair of "stealthy" footsteps behind me. I knew it was him, so taking advantage of a small café's awning, I stopped and turned around, frowning at him. "Go away," I said in a low voice, to which he just shook his head.
"Why are you following me?" The boy still didn't answer, so with the little patience I had, I moved a bit closer and spoke again, this time a bit louder, "What's your name?" This time, it took him a bit longer to even make a gesture. I waited a bit before he finally spoke in almost the same tone as me, "Eric, my name is Eric."
genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, superhero au
synopsis: you never thought you’d meet spiderman. hell, you didn’t even like him. but thanks to a very unfortunate web malfunction, you’re now stuck—literally tethered—to him for three whole days. surely it can’t get worse… right?
warnings: kissing obviously, making out, mentions of blood and blasts, reader is lowkey mean, cursing, not proofread
note: hi so i wrote this in like 2 days because all i could think of was the upside down spider-man kiss everytime i listened to upside down kiss. so here's a kind of rushed?yeonjun version, enjoyy!
word count: 5.6k
i made the yeonjun gif out of a tiktok video by user yeonjun_fp, so credits to them for the art!
if you liked this please comment or reblog to give me your feedback! <3
you were dead on your feet.
after back to back lectures, a surprise quiz, and a final group project meeting where no one did their assigned slides, all you wanted was to go home, kick off your shoes, and disintegrate into your bed for the long weekend. you had no intentions of making any plans or attending parties, you just wanted sleep, junk food, and whatever show netflix decided to shove in your face.
you put on your headphones the moment you stepped onto the subway platform, letting the music drown out the evening rush. when the train arrived, you shuffled in, found a seat by the window, and slumped into it like a corpse, your limbs aching in that warm, heavy way that begged for rest.
you were half-dozing by the time the train screeched into the next station. but then—everything jolted violently.
the brakes screamed louder than your music. your body lurched forward. the lights overhead flickered and died. people gasped. someone screamed. and then, before you could even register what was happening, a deafening boom tore through the air. the floor shook, making the train car tilt slightly to one side. your heart jumped into your throat.
“everyone out! get out!” someone shouted.
panic swallowed the crowd like wildfire. passengers shoved, tripped, yelled over each other. in the blur of limbs and chaos, you were pushed out of your seat and jostled toward the open subway doors.
your headphones were ripped from your ears. you barely heard your own gasp as you stumbled out onto the platform, trying to get your bearings, when another explosion rocked the tunnel, stronger this time. dust and smoke poured through the gaps in the ceiling.
you saw it before you could react. a massive chunk of cement was hurtling straight toward you, fast and unstoppable. your legs refused to move. time stalled, every second stretching thin with the awful realisation that this was it. this was how it ended—for no reason, on a thursday, because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.
but just before it hit, something yanked you backward, hard.
you cried out as the world blurred around you, a blur of wind and sound and pressure crushing into your chest. you were flying.
your brain screamed that it wasn’t possible, that none of this made sense, but your body was already curled tight against something solid and warm. it took a second to understand that it was a person. no—not just any person.
the red and blue suit. the stupid mask. the goddamn glowing web.
spider-man.
your stomach flipped violently as the city skyline whipped past, your legs dangling uselessly. his arm was locked around your waist, firm and annoyingly confident. a glowing thread of web tech was attached to your wrist, pulsing faintly as it connected you to his suit like a leash. below you, the chaos on the street was a distant noise. above you, the clouds were streaked orange from the setting sun. around you, the wind roared.
and you hated all of it. you had always hated spiderman. he was a self-righteous, cocky, reckless menace. always showing up to destroy half the street in the name of “saving” it. and now here you were, clutched to his chest like some helpless civilian in a comic book.
“put me down!” you screamed over the wind, squirming against his grip. “what the fuck are you doing? put me down, you freak!”
“you’re welcome,” he yelled back, voice muffled through the mask.
“i didn’t ask you to save me!”
“i noticed!” he shot back, and the smirk in his voice made your blood boil.
you struggled the entire way up—clawing at his suit, kicking your legs, swearing every curse you knew under your breath—until finally, he landed with a smooth, practised thud on the rooftop of some high-rise building. your feet hit solid ground again, but your balance didn’t catch up in time. your knees wobbled, and you stumbled forward, dizzy from the whiplash and adrenaline.
“i’m going to throw up,” you groaned, doubling over.
“do it away from the suit, thanks,” he muttered.
but before you could stagger farther, a sharp tug pulled you back—your wrist yanked mid-step until your body collided with his chest again. his arm caught you instinctively, steadying you, but you immediately shoved him away, heart still racing from the fall. that’s when you noticed it.
the thread was still glowing and your wrist was still tethered to it.
“what the hell is this?” you shrieked, holding it up.
the web stretched and shimmered faintly in the light, a sickly silverish glow like it was straight out of some alien movie. it wasn’t even sticky anymore, just fused into your, skin buzzing faintly where it made contact.
“why is this still on me?! get it off!”
“working on it!” he snapped, kneeling to inspect where it fused into his own suit. “it wasn’t supposed to... uh... attach like that.”
“attach like what?” you cried, tugging violently at it. it didn’t budge. “is this a leash? did you just fucking leash me like a dog?”
“you think i wanted this?” he shot up again, exasperated. “i was in the middle of stopping a building from collapsing when you ran into the line of fire!”
“i was just trying to take the subway!”
“and i was trying to stop a criminal from levelling the station! sue me!”
the shouting echoed across the rooftop, both of you standing there like idiots with a literal glowing string binding your bodies together. your breath came out in shaky huffs. your heart was still racing—not just from fear now, but fury, embarrassment, complete disbelief that this was actually happening.
he let out a long sigh, suddenly sheepish. “look... it’s an experimental prototype. a bio-thread. reacts to certain electrical signals. and, apparently, to heartbeats.”
you blinked. “you’re kidding.”
“wish i was.”
your eyes widened as the realisation sank in. “you mean this thing is connected to—”
“your heartbeat, yeah,” he said grimly, arms crossed now.
you stared down at your wrist, horrified. “that’s disgusting.”
“that’s science,” he corrected.
you gave the web another tug, desperate and annoyed. “so how do i get it off?”
he hesitated.
“no,” you said, already dreading it. “no, don’t tell me—”
“we wait,” he muttered. “should dissolve naturally in... seventy-two hours.”
“seventy—?” you choked. “seventy-two HOURS?!”
he raised both hands in defence. “give or take. the tech’s a little moody.”
“you’ve got to be kidding me.”
“i’m really not.”
you groaned so loudly it echoed. then you slumped down onto the edge of the rooftop, cradling your head in your hands, trying not to scream into the skyline.
this couldn’t be real. it was some fever dream. you were probably still on the subway, passed out from exhaustion, hallucinating everything. because there was no way you were actually tethered to the city’s most annoying masked menace for the next three days. you refused to believe it.
but the soft glow from your wrist said otherwise.
“take me home.”
he groaned the second you said it, but you didn’t care. you crossed your arms and tilted your chin up, staring at him stubbornly as the wind from the rooftop whipped around the both of you, the glowing thread still tethering your wrist to his suit like some ridiculous sci-fi leash.
“no way,” he snapped. “i still have to go after that guy. he bombed the train platform—he’s probably already halfway across the city.”
you gaped at him. “are you dumb? you're gonna go fight a criminal—with me attached to you?”
he made a guilty little noise and glanced at the still pulsing thread between you. “...i mean. maybe.”
“maybe?” you hissed. “the police can handle him! you’re not dragging me into some vigilante war zone.”
he hesitated, shoulders slumping, and finally, with a sigh of defeat, muttered, “fine. but where the hell are we gonna live for the next three days?”
you blinked. “we?”
“we,” he said firmly, pointing between the two of you. “we’re literally bonded now. unless you wanna cuddle on a fire escape all weekend, we need somewhere to stay.”
you narrowed your eyes. “there’s no way i’m going wherever you stay. i don’t even know you. you could live in a sewer or like… some creepy underground lair.”
he looked genuinely offended as his mask scrunched up. “i don’t live in a sewer. and it’s not a lair. it’s a… small apartment. cozy, even.”
“yeah, no,” you said flatly. “you’re coming to my place.”
his shoulders sagged even further. “ugh fine. but we’re walking. i’m not swinging again with you screaming in my ear.”
and that’s how you found yourself dragging spider-man—spider-freaking-man—down the street by your wrist like some weird, reluctant pet. you ignored the way people looked. it was late, and luckily, his suit was mostly covered by the hoodie you’d given him. though he kept trying to duck into shadows, mumbling under his breath like a sulking child. the glowing thread shimmered faintly between you, pulling taut every time one of you stepped too far away.
when you finally reached your apartment building, he stared up at it with a kind of wary awe. “damn. you got a high paying job or something?”
you snorted as you opened the door. “i’m a uni student. my parents are just rich.”
he tilted his head at you as you stepped into the elevator. “what uni?”
you told him your school name without much thought, and immediately, his whole body stiffened.
“...wait,” he blurted. “me too.”
you turned to look at him slowly. “what?”
his eyes widened behind the mask. he cursed under his breath and looked away, like he’d just admitted state secrets. “shit. i didn’t mean to say that. ignore that.”
you were about to push him further when the elevator doors opened. just then, your phone buzzed. “takeout’s here.”
he startled like you’d just hit him. “you ordered food?”
“yeah,” you said, tossing your keys onto the counter as you entered the apartment. “i was starving and figured you’d eat too, unless you’re part spider and eat bugs.”
he didn’t dignify that with a response.
you handed him a pair of clean sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt you figured would fit—he disappeared into the bathroom and returned a few minutes later, looking annoyingly good in your clothes. he was tall, broad-shouldered, sleeves pushed up his forearms as he sat across from you at your dining table.
you opened the takeout boxes and passed him one. “pad thai. extra spicy.”
he didn’t move.
“uh, you’re gonna have a hard time eating that with your mask on.”
his arms crossed defensively. “i don’t take off my mask in front of people. especially not people who hate spider-man.”
you scoffed, twirling a noodle around with your chopsticks. “i don’t hate you. i just think you're an annoying menace who causes more problems than he solves.”
“...that’s literally what hating me is,” he muttered.
you rolled your eyes. “look, i don’t care. you saved my life, remember? i won’t tell anyone. just… do it. you won’t survive three whole days eating through the mask.”
he was quiet for a second too long, but then hesitantly spoke up.
“...you won’t tell anyone?”
“swear on my meal,” you said solemnly.
he hesitated one last time, and then with a reluctant sigh, his gloved fingers reached up. you watched as he peeled the mask off in one smooth motion—and everything inside you short-circuited.
because holy. shit.
his face was devastatingly pretty. sharp cheekbones, soft pouty lips, golden skin that caught the light in all the right places. his hair was ruffled and messy, sticking out a little from the mask, and his eyes—big, brown, framed by thick lashes—blinked at you nervously.
“i… did not expect you to be that hot,” you blurted, mouth full of noodles.
he choked on air. “what—”
“no like—i was expecting some weird nerdy guy with maybe a beard.”
he blinked. “wow. thanks.”
you pointed at him with your chopsticks, narrowing your eyes. “wait. i know you.”
he froze at that.
“you’re… that guy from my discrete math lecture. choi yeonjun. you’re always sitting in the front row. you literally answer every question like a damn TA.”
his mouth parted slightly. “you’re the girl who sits in the column next to me. with the giant water bottle and all the highlighters.”
you paused. “...so you’ve noticed me.”
he blinked fast. “uh. yeah. i mean—you stand out. not in a bad way. just—pretty. you’re pretty. not that i notice or anything. well obviously i noticed because i just said it but—”
you snorted. “you’re really awkward without the suit.”
“i’m not—” he groaned, face turning pink. “okay maybe a little. it just gives me a different type of confidence you know?”
you grinned down at your food, heart ticking slightly faster. you didn’t know what was more surreal—sitting across from spider-man, or discovering spider-man was the hot math nerd who sat fifteen feet from you every tuesday and thursday. either way, it was going to be a very long seventy two hours.
you had come to terms with the fact that you were never going to get any real sleep. not when you were forced to lie right at the edge of your own bed, arm dangling pathetically over the side like some kind of human offering.
the glowing web tether was still stuck to your wrist, stretching toward the air mattress yeonjun had flopped onto with a dramatic sigh of exhaustion. you could barely move without yanking his entire body with you, so the only position you could settle in was an awkward sideways curl, with one arm constantly pulled down like gravity itself was trying to remind you of your very stupid, very spider-shaped problem.
you tried to sleep. really. but around three in the morning, right as your eyes were finally starting to blur at the edges, you felt a sudden hard tug on your wrist and then you were falling.
you yelped as your body was jerked right off the mattress, falling with a startled oof directly onto the unsuspecting man on the floor. yeonjun barely even stirred. he let out a sleepy little grunt and instinctively wrapped his stupid, warm, surprisingly toned arms around you like you were some oversized body pillow.
you struggled, wriggling against his grip like a bug under a glass, but it was useless. his arms were locked around your waist, one of his hands now tangled in your shirt, and you could feel the soft, steady rhythm of his breathing against your neck.
you hissed his name, trying to peel his fingers off you, but all you got in return was a sleepy pout and a grumbled, “five more minutes.” it would’ve been cute if it wasn’t so infuriating.
and okay, maybe it was a little warm. and his chest was kind of…comfortable. his stupid heartbeat was strong and slow under your ear, and you were so damn tired from the chaotic whirlwind of your spiderweb-tethered day that you just…gave in. your body melted into the warmth of his, cheek pressed against the soft fabric of his borrowed hoodie, and for the first time in hours, your eyes slipped shut. surprisingly, it felt safe and grounding. like being held together by something solid in the middle of all the mess.
the next morning though, was...less cute.
“you pulled me off my bed,” you deadpanned as you sat up, pushing off his chest with an elbow. your wrist still glowed faintly, the web tether warm between your skins.
yeonjun blinked up at you, hair sticking in every direction, a blanket half-kicked off the mattress.
“huh?” he said groggily, then sat up fast as memory caught up with him. “wait—shit, did i yank you down?”
you narrowed your eyes. “yes. and then you cuddled me.”
his entire face flushed red. “i did not cuddle you.”
you crossed your arms. “you were purring.”
“that’s slander.” but he looked horrified.
the next twenty four hours were a disaster.
you tripped over the tether so many times that you started to wonder if it had a personal vendetta against your toes. brushing your teeth was like a weirdly synchronised dance of tangled arms and accidental elbow jabs. showering was even worse.
he stood frozen outside the bathroom door, your glowing lifeline stretched taut through the crack, his voice drifting through like a very flustered ghost. “i’m not peeking, okay?!”
“you better not be!” you snapped as you held up a towel like a makeshift curtain while trying to lather shampoo one-handed. “don’t test me, spiderboy, i will kill you.”
“this is humiliating for me too!” he yelled back. “i’m an icon of justice!”
“you’re an icon of annoying!”
you fought like bickering siblings who had never met before yesterday and yet were somehow stuck together for life. every time you tried to do anything, you’d hear him mutter something under his breath like, “why couldn’t i have been bonded to someone normal?” and you’d throw a couch pillow at him.
it was exactly at the point of your worst argument—over whether or not he could eat directly out of the peanut butter jar—that his watch beeped. he glanced down, cursed under his breath, and without any warning, leapt off the couch.
“wait—what the fuck—!” you screamed as your body was yanked clean off the floor.
“shit, sorry!” yeonjun called back mid-air, swinging out the open balcony door like it was a tuesday stroll. “emergency call!”
“emergency call your ass, PUT ME DOWN!”
“can’t! you’re tethered! my bad!”
you flailed helplessly as you were flung through the air, wind screaming in your ears, the skyline of the city blurring past. each time he swung, your body would arc toward him, face practically slamming against his as you bumped into him with every motion. your nose brushed his chin, your cheek scraped his jaw, and one time—one time—your lips accidentally brushed the side of his mask.
you shrieked. “stop swinging like a lunatic and hold me!”
“oh? now you care about being close to me?” he teased, voice gleeful, mask slightly lopsided.
you scowled. “if i throw up, it’s going straight into your face.”
he just laughed, and then like a showoff on steroids he flipped mid-air, feet planting against the side of a glass building, body upside down. the web between you tightened instantly, pulling you forward until your face hovered just inches from his. he didn’t move. neither did you. the air thinned between you, your breath catching as your eyes flicked to his masked face.
your lips were right there.
he grinned.
then dropped you very unceremoniously onto a nearby rooftop with a thud.
“careful, pretty,” he drawled, voice smug. “you almost kissed me.”
you gaped at him. “what the hell?”
“what?” he said innocently, crouching on the edge of the roof like the cockiest bastard alive. “don’t blame me. you’re the one who’s all over me lately.”
“you pulled me into the sky like a rag doll!”
he tilted his head. “and yet, you’re still clinging to me. hmm.”
you chucked a loose brick at him, but he dodged it and just laughed again, sunlight catching his suit as he rose higher on the building’s edge. the way he stood, so confident and self-assured, was almost unrecognisable from the shy, stammering boy who slept in your apartment and accidentally blurted compliments with red cheeks and soft eyes.
because here, like this, in the suit, yeonjun wasn’t flustered. he wasn’t awkward. he was bold and flirtatious and impossible to pin down. and it was beginning to drive you crazy.
“god,” you muttered under your breath, trying to smooth your wind-tangled hair. “your split personality is insane.”
“you like it,” he said with a wink and leapt off the rooftop again, dragging you behind him with a scream echoing into the morning air.
he was heavy in your arms—well, technically you were mostly dragging him, but still, he made a pretty pathetic sight with one arm slung over your shoulder and his mask balled up in your fist.
yeonjun winced with every step as you practically hauled him down the hallway to your bathroom, grumbling under your breath about superhero idiocy and your web-chained fate. his face was pale but smug, which made it hard to feel too bad for him, even with the deep gash on his side bleeding through the slick fabric of his suit.
“could’ve just let me bleed out on the roof,” he joked weakly, slumping down onto the toilet seat. you shot him a look and flicked the bathroom light on.
“how could i? we’re attached to each other because of your stupid web.”
he groaned dramatically as you rifled through the cabinet for your tiny first aid kit. “god, i forget how mean you can get.”
“you’ve known me for two days.”
“and i’ve never known peace since,” he mumbled, hissing when you unzipped the top of his suit. it peeled down like a second skin, sticking slightly to the dried blood at his side, and then it was suddenly just there—his torso, sculpted and gleaming faintly with sweat, all defined lines and soft curves where his skin dipped between muscle. he was flushed down to his chest, breaths short and laboured, and you hated yourself for noticing. your eyes stuttered somewhere between his collarbone and the trail of blood slashed across his ribs. he was stupidly attractive, in that way people weren’t supposed to be when they were bruised and bleeding and shirtless in your bathroom.
you blinked hard to cover it up. “you’re disgusting.”
he grinned. “you’re staring.”
“i’m assessing the wound,” you snapped, even though your voice cracked embarrassingly halfway through.
you knelt beside him, pulling out antiseptic and gauze, trying very hard not to notice the way his thigh brushed your knee. he was warm and so very there, and the web tether between you pulsed quietly, glowing with soft light that gradually brightened as your hands made contact with his skin.
you swore under your breath as the tether suddenly shortened, dragging you even closer until you were practically perched on his leg, trying to clean the gash with shaking fingers.
“stop moving,” you muttered, avoiding his gaze.
“you’re literally sitting on me.”
“and you’re literally whining like a baby,” you shot back.
“sorry, i didn’t realise getting stabbed meant i had to also deal with you sitting on me and insulting me,” he grumbled, but there was no bite to it. his voice had dipped lower and softer, with a strange edge of tension beneath the banter, which curled around your lungs and squeezed.
you froze when he tilted his head to look at you, eyes dark and voice barely above a murmur.
“you gonna kiss me or just keep staring?”
you froze at that, heartbeat thudding louder making the web glow brighter. you stared at him, caught between the heat of his skin under your hands and the dare in his voice.
but then your hand shot up and smacked his chest, hard enough to jolt him, and you scrambled off his lap, trying to hide your flaming face behind pure rage.
“get dressed, freak!”
he laughed as you stormed out of the bathroom, muttering something about how you were the weirdest civilian he’d ever met. you didn’t respond with youe usual snarky response as you were too busy pressing your hands to your face and praying the floor would open up and swallow you whole.
later, the both of you ended up back in your bed this time, lying stiffly on either end like two strangers forced to share a lifeboat. the air mattress plan was abandoned mutually, after both of you admitted it had been a disaster the night before. this was... better. except for the thing between you. the glowing thread, taut and warm, stretched like some cursed lifeline from your wrist to his. you turned to your side, glaring at the ceiling.
“this is insane,” you muttered.
“you think?” he sighed. “i was testing a prototype, not... roping myself to a civilian.”
you glanced over at him. his face was turned toward the ceiling too, dark in the low light, jaw sharp and brows furrowed in thought. then he spoke again, voice quiet and strange.
“it’s supposed to sync with biological emotion markers. that’s what the tech does. it connects based on stimulus—heartbeat, adrenaline, whatever.”
he then paused as both of you looked down at the web connecting your wrists. it was glowing again.
brighter.
“is it—” you swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast your heart was beating. “—is it reacting to me… or to you?”
his eyes flicked toward you. something unreadable settled into his expression as he shifted, leaning slightly closer. the tether pulsed, light blooming a little brighter between your wrists. you felt your skin heat where it touched the sheets, the air between your bodies shimmering with something you didn’t want to name.
his hand moved, slow and hesitant, fingers brushing your cheek like he was afraid of scaring you off. it was the first time he touched you that gently. like he wanted to. like this was something he wasn’t allowed to want.
your breath hitched.
but then he blinked, the moment cracking in half as he leaned away quickly and gave a sheepish laugh.
“sorry, i’m being so weird,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “goodnight.”
you stared at him as he rolled to his side, facing away, shoulders tense.
your hand drifted to the tether between you which was glowing faintly now. like it, too, was pretending none of that happened.
the next morning, you woke with a heavy feeling in your chest, the warmth of yeonjun's body pressed against your back where he'd somehow started spooning you during the night.
the cursed bio-web glowed faintly between your wrists, its light weaker now but still stubbornly connecting you to the sleeping superhero whose arm was currently crushing your diaphragm. you tried to shift away, but the movement yanked yeonjun's wrist sharply toward you, jolting him awake with a grunt.
"mmph—w'shappening?" he slurred, blinking sleepily as his free hand came up to rub his eyes. then he froze, suddenly very aware of how his body was molded against yours, his nose buried in your hair.
"oh. uh. morning."
"morning," you muttered, refusing to acknowledge how nice his sleep-rough voice sounded this close to your ear. the web pulsed between you, responding to your elevated heartbeat like the traitor it was.
yeonjun cleared his throat and attempted to roll away, only for the tether to snap taut, dragging you both into an awkward mid-air collision of limbs.
"right. forgot about that," he mumbled, his cheeks pink as he untangled himself. "three days can't end fast enough."
the words shouldn't have stung, but they did.
the day passed in strange pockets of silence and unexpected intimacy. making breakfast was, again a clumsy dance of coordinated movements—you cracking eggs onehanded while he reached across you for the spatula, his chest brushing your back in a way that made the web flare brighter.
by afternoon, you'd developed an unspoken rhythm. studying on the couch meant yeonjun's legs thrown over your lap, his toes occasionally flexing against your thigh. you told him about your classes, the professors you loved and hated, the little things that made you feel like home. he told you about his family, his friends’ relentless teasing, and how sometimes being spider-man meant missing out on the simplest moments. you laughed more than you expected, but the heavy feeling in your heart didn’t go away.
as sunset painted your balcony in gold, you stood shoulder to shoulder, watching the web's glow grow fainter.
"think it'll hurt when it breaks?" you asked, trying to sound casual.
yeonjun flexed his wrist. "dunno. never stuck myself to a pretty girl before."
"shut up," you said without heat, your traitorous pulse making the thread brighten.
right as you said that, without any ceremony it suddenly dissolved. one moment the connection was there, thrumming with energy. the next, there was nothing. your wrist felt strangely light, the skin unmarked as if the tether had never existed. the sudden freedom was more disorienting than the fall from the subway platform three days ago.
yeonjun cleared his throat, rocking back on his heels. "so. uh. guess i should..." he gestured vaguely toward the skyline.
"yeah," you agreed too quickly. "crime to fight. people to save. all that."
an awkward beat passed before he suddenly pulled you into a stiff hug, his hands patting your back like he was unsure of what he was doing. "see you in class," he mumbled into your hair before releasing you like you'd burned him.
you nodded, a little breathless. “yeah.”
you watched quietly as he slipped the mask back up, eyes meeting yours one last time before he waved goodbye and launched himself into the air with a graceful swing. the sight left a hollow ache in your chest, the cool evening breeze whispering around you as you leaned on the balcony railing and closed your eyes.
just as you were wondering how the hell you were going to say hi to him on campus, a shadow suddenly blocked the fading sunlight in front of you. you opened your eyes and smiled. there he was—spider-man, hanging upside down right before you. the mask’s white eyes blinked slowly, hesitating.
"miss me?"
you let out a startled yelp which turned into a punch that sent him swinging backward with a laugh.
"you absolute asshole!" you hissed, heart hammering. "what the hell are you—"
"forgot something," he interrupted, catching himself on the railing. his voice was oddly nervous as the white lenses of his mask stared at you. "the web's gone but... my chest still feels kinda tight? like there's still a tether there. that's... not normal, right?"
you blinked. "your... chest?"
"yeah." his gloved hand came up to rub at the black spider emblem. "right here. it's weird. hurts a little. think i need you to check—"
"you're such a terrible liar," you breathed, but your hands were already reaching for his mask. this time, you pulled it all the way off.
yeonjun's face was flushed, his lips slightly parted as he stared at you with an expression so open it made your knees weak. there was no smugness behind it, just nervous hope.
"so?" he whispered. "you gonna check or what?"
your fingers curled around his jaw. "shut up and kiss me, spider-boy."
he didn't need to be told twice.
the first kiss was messy—yeonjun still upside down, your hands fumbling with his hair as he gripped your waist to keep you both from toppling over. your upper lip brushed against his lower one first, that plush swell of his mouth impossibly soft against yours, and then he was kissing you back properly, his lips moving with a desperate hunger that made your head spin. the contrast was intoxicating—the way your upper lip caught slightly on the perfect curve of his lower one before he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a way that had you clutching at his shoulders for balance. when you bit his lower lip, he actually whimpered, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave bruises.
"fuck," he panted when you broke apart, his pupils blown wide. his lower lip glistened where you'd nipped it, that perfect pout even more swollen now. "was that—are we—"
"if you don't kiss me again in the next three seconds, i'm pushing you off this balcony."
he grinned, wild and bright, before surging forward. this time, he flipped mid-kiss, his body twisting until he was pressing you back against the railing, his thigh slotting between yours. your upper lip caught on his again in that delicious way, the sensitive skin tingling where it dragged against the fuller curve of his lower lip before his tongue swept into your mouth.
the heat of him was everywhere, his hands roaming your back with none of the hesitation he'd had while tethered. when you moaned into his mouth, he swallowed the sound greedily, his lower lip catching on yours as he pulled back just enough to tease before diving in again.
"still think i'm a nuisance?" he murmured against your lips, his teeth scraping your jaw, his lips brushing yours with each word.
"shut up," you gasped, arching into him. your lips dragged against his as you spoke, the fleeting contact making him shudder. "just because i want to make out with you doesn't mean i approve of your reckless vigilantism."
yeonjun laughed, the vibration travelling straight through your chest as he lifted you effortlessly onto the railing. your legs locked around his waist on instinct, his hands gripping your thighs as he kissed you again, deeper this time. his lower lip slotted perfectly between yours, that plush softness yielding to your teeth when you bit down gently, and the groan it tore from him was better than any sound you'd heard in your life.
"good thing i don't need your approval," he teased between kisses, each brush of his lips against yours more deliberate now, his upper lip catching on yours in ways that made your toes curl. "just your mouth. and your hands. and maybe—"
you cut him off with another kiss, your fingers tightening in his hair. the city stretched out below you, endless and bright, but all you could focus on was the way yeonjun shuddered when you tugged him closer, the way his heart pounded against yours —no web needed this time to prove you were connected.
Synopsis: When Michael finds himself at Studio 54, he expects a good night. What he doesn't expect is being so drawn to you from across the dance floor...
Content/Warnings: Michael is a D1 yearner, heavy tension, mentions of alcohol and drugs, dirty dancing, suggestive content but not graphic.
Era! Off the Wall
W.C. 2.6K
Link to the pinterest board so you can get the aesthetic
Masterlist
The second he arrived it was like a fever took over the building. He came waltzing in, Quincy Jones following a short distance behind. People up on the second floor clung tightly to the railing as they leaned over to get a good look at him. The air in the room felt electric, girls fixing their hair, shifting around their tops to get the perfect amount of cleavage. People had even momentarily paused their partying on the dance floor as the ripple of his name made its way through the building.
Michael waded through the crowd of intoxicated young adults, a smile hanging from his lips lazily. He was in New York for 2 weeks and Quincy had given him no choice but to come to the infamous Studio 54. He was reluctant at first, but he quickly gave in, the aura of the building overriding any hesitance in his body. He wanted to see what all the rage was about, he wanted to see if what people said was true. He wanted to know if this was the wild, animalistic, unfettered, free-spirited night club that everyone claimed it to be.
Short answer, yes, it was all of those things and more.
It wasn't like Michael was new to the environment, he and his brothers got their start from performing in strip clubs in the midwest, but none of them were as magical as this. In fact, unlike the clubs his father had booked him when he was the age of a kindergartener, this club didn't suffocate him at all, he didn't feel like he was unsafe, he felt free.
Quincy came up to his side as they waded deeper into the building, he grinned and leaned down to whisper in Michael's ear, "Still feelin' hesitant?"
Mike let out a breathy laugh, "Nah, m'feelin great, Q." He smiled bright, nodding at a group of ladies who eyed him up and down.
"Good, cause I got the best seats in this place." He nodded up to the second floor where he saw a small area blocked off. It sat in the center of the second floor balcony, providing a view of the entire club. The room was clothed in red velvet and silk in a variety of different oranges. There was the swankiest looking couch he had ever seen and a chair that was the shape of a literal hand. The table that sat in the middle looked like it was made out of disco ball fragments and fairy dust. There were large plumes of pink feathers that clung to a large floor lamp. It was the most overwhelming yet mesmerizing room he had ever laid his eyes on.
Quincy led Michael to the spiral stairs that led up to the second floor. Michael paused halfway up them, his body telling him there was something he was missing. He scanned the crowd below him, everyone had resumed all of their previous activities. He saw people dancing, people talking and laughing, people drinking, smoking. It was almost too vast to look at. But his eyes raked across the sea of people before being drawn like a magnet to her.
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You stood with your girlfriends against the back wall of the club. They were on their 5th round of whatever the drink of the night was. You think it's some sort of tequila based drink that was so sweet you couldn't even taste the alcohol. It wasn't really your style, no you opted for an espresso martini and whatever substance was in the small compact mirror in your hands. Maybe it was the dangerous mix of alcohol and drugs in your system but you felt a pair of eyes on you. Your eyes scanned the crowd as best you could.
One of your friends tapped your shoulder, pulling you away from your search. She held her drink in one hand, her other hand lingering on your shoulder, "You're up next, babe." She pointed to the elevated stage where the current DJ was wrapping up.
Excitement fills your body like a rush of adrenaline. You sniffled slightly and tucked the compact into your bra, thanking your friend and giving her a playful wink as you made your way to the stage. You fluffed up your hair, and smoothed out the tight little dress you had stepped into back at your apartment.
As you took your place behind the booth, getting things set up to your liking you felt the familiar return of the eyes from before. You ignored the feeling as you placed the headphones around your neck, you typically would have actually put them on your head, but you had spent forever fluffing up your hair and getting it to sit just right. Your hand held one side of the headphones up to your ear, your other hand quickly fiddling with certain dials and indicators. The table felt so good beneath your fingers, you could feel the energy slicing from the hundreds of wires into the soft pads of your fingers.
You queued up a few songs before the stare came back. It felt purposeful at this point, like whoever was staring at you wanted your attention, wanted to make you nervous. But it also felt thick, like this person was using all their energy to make you look at them. And shit, it was working. You glanced up from the mixer, eyes somehow knowing exactly where to look. They trailed straight up in front of you and into the VIP box in the balcony.
There he stood, dressed in fitted bell bottoms that hugged his thighs perfectly, and a long glittery flowing shirt that plunged almost all the way to the waistband of his pants. He leaned against the balcony, skin shining beautifully under the rainbow of colorful lights. His big brown doe eyes locked onto yours.
Either your incredibly intoxicated brain was pulling a prank on you, or Michael Jackson was staring straight into your soul like he had already conquered it.
With the way he was looking at you, it wouldn't be long until he did.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
Michael watched you move effortlessly through the crowd and up into the dj booth. His eyes raked over your body more times than he would like to admit. He wanted to commit your figure to memory, everything from your chunky gold heels to the bold turquoise makeup look that made you look less human and more siren. Oh you were absolutely poisonous.
He had been silently praying to God that you would look his way, that you would spare him even a single glance.
And then you did, your glossy eyes meeting his. Did you naturally have that effortlessly bewitching look in your eyes, or was that something that you saved specifically for men who looked at you like you were the sun? Michael wasn't sure he cared all that much, all he cared about was that you kept looking at him.
And you did, a smile pulling at your lips as your hands moved across the mixer with ease. Everything about you was captivating, Michael genuinely felt like a sailor being lured to death by a siren. He leaned further over the railing, eyes trailing over every curve of your skin that you mercifully let him see.
As his eyes met your, you bit your lower lip slyly. You shot a wink at him as you pressed play on the mixer, turning the volume up as the crowd hollered at the song.
Disco Inferno boomed through the speakers, hitting Michael like a punch to the gut. He smiled and dipped his head, nodding at you as an approval of your song choice.
Quincy called Michael away from the railing, wanting him to sit down and have a drink. Michael left his spot begrudgingly, but kept his eyes trained on you. Even when he sat on the plush couch he looked through the iron railing at you. Every sip of alcohol made his body ache for more of your attention. Since the music had started playing you had paid him absolutely zero thought. He knew you were doing it on purpose, he knew you could feel his gaze on you.
Quincy talked beside him, introducing him to other celebrities, producers, business men, whoever. Michael didn't care. He sat watching you, watching your hands move expertly against the mixer. He wished your hands were on him. He could imagine your touch easily, the feeling of your hand on his chest, your fingers in his hair.
You sneaked the tiniest glance up at him. He sat with his legs slightly widened, body leaned back, drink dangling lazily from his hand. It was a mistake to look, because that one look lit your whole body on fire.
Michael noticed, he caught your eyes darting up at him before back down to your task at hand. He noticed the heat in your cheeks, and it made him giddy. He watched you move to the music, head nodding perfectly on the downbeats of each song, hips swaying carefully. It was so natural that it could have made him cry out in pure joy.
He found himself wondering about you, what was your name, did you live here? Did you have a boyfriend, a girlfriend, any kind of partner? God, he hoped not. Did you always elicit this kind of response from strangers? He wondered how you felt about animals, did you like them as much as he did, what if you hated animals. He wondered what you smelled like. His best guess was some sort of husky amber scent, or maybe some kind of citrine smell.
He didn't know anything about you and he was already imagining what a date would look like, how bad he would spoil a girl like you. He imagined the sound of your voice, how it would sound hearing you say his name.
Quincy shook his shoulder, "Michael!"
He blinked, you were gone. Shit, he had been day dreaming so hard he had missed you leaving the stage. He stood up, eyes searching the crowd frantically, what if you had left? He thought he may actually pass away if you had slipped through the cracks.
Quincy looked up at him, "Michael, relax, she's on the dance floor."
He let out a sigh of relief, "Good," he looked at Quincy, "Wait, how do you know who I'm looking for?"
"You've not exactly been discreet about it, Mike. I mean Cyndi Lauper was sitting next to you and you were starin' at that dj chick."
Michael shrugged, "She caught my eye, Q."
"Well, Jesus, Mike don't just stand up here. Go talk to the girl before I lose my mind."
Michael smiled and left the VIP area, fully on a mission.
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
After your set you carefully slipped out from the booth and over to your friends. They smiled and kissed your cheek, applauding you.
Before you knew it, you were on the sparkly dance floor with them. The three of you danced close, hands roaming each other comfortably. You wolf whistled as another girl came and whisked away one of your friends. Then your other friend quickly disappeared with a guy, sending you a wink as they left the floor. You smiled and continued dancing, letting the music clear your head. You shut your eyes, the music leading your body in fluid movements.
You felt his presence before you saw him, in fact you were so certain it was him you didn't even open your eyes. A large hand found its way to the small of your back, and you leaned into the touch. Your back grazed his chest, you could feel the cold touch of his necklace graze your bare back. The sharp difference in temperature sent a chill down your spine. His hands settled on your hips, guiding them with his to the music. Your heart felt surprisingly steady, like this was natural, like dancing with Michael Jackson was just an ordinary experience. Maybe it would become one, Michael sure hoped it would.
Michael felt your body relax and press into his touch, your head leaned back against his chest, his mouth right next to your ear. He wanted nothing more than to dip his head and kiss your glistening neck, but he remained a gentleman, or as much of one as he could muster.
He wasn't sure how long you two stayed like that, but it had been a couple of songs. Slowly you turned in his grasp, now facing him. Your glossy eyes met him again and he could have sworn he was in heaven. You both smiled lazily at each other, sharing a knowing look.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he wrapped his around your waist, bringing you closer. "I'm Michael."
You smiled more, you wanted to say 'i know,' but you decided to play his little game, "I'm Y/n, it's nice to finally meet you, Michael."
God you sounded exactly like he had imagined, and somehow you smelt better than he could have ever dreamt.
His thumb drew little circles against your hip, "You dance like this with every guy you meet?" he teased slightly, leaning closer to your face.
"No, just you. And do you stare at every girl that peaks your interest?" You leaned closer, nose brushing his.
"Nah, just you." He copied your response. You smiled at the lighthearted banter.
"I guess that makes me a very lucky girl, hm?"
"That depends on if you make me equally as lucky and go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?" His grip on your hips tightened ever so slightly, it made your knees slightly weak.
"Why wait until tomorrow night?" You smiled, a mischievous glint hitting your eye.
He raised a brow, a grin matching the look in your eyes. "What did you have in mind?"
﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌
You and Michael found yourselves seated in a waffle house, laughing violently at something one of you had said. His security guard, Bill, sat a couple of seats away, enjoying his own late night/early morning breakfast.
It was close to 5 AM the next day, you and Michael had been terrorizing the waffle house for almost 4 hours now. You would've felt bad had you not been having such a good time. And Michael felt the same way.
When the sun started to peek through the city streets, Bill finally decided to intervene.
"We gotta head back to the hotel room before your father has an aneurysm, Joker." Bill clapped his shoulder.
Michael sighed and muttered, "I wish he would," causing you to double over in more laughter. Michael smiled proudly.
You stood up, "I should head back to my apartment."
Michael stood as well, looking at you curiously, "How are you getting home?"
"I'll probably walk." You grabbed your purse, carefully reaching for money to pay for the food.
Michael stopped you, "First, you're not walking home alone. Second, I'm paying."
"Michael, I'm the one who suggested we come here, and I am perfectly capable of walking, I've done it many times before."
He placed down enough cash to cover the bill and to leave a hefty tip. "I don't like that, you're not walking home on my watch."
"But it's an inconvenience to take me home, my apartment is on the opposite side of the city from your hotel." You crossed your arms.
"Then you'll come to the hotel with me and we can get you a cab from there." Michael said cooly, even though he had no intent of calling a cab.
"Can I not call a cab from here?" You challenged, eyes narrowing.
"No, you can't." He said simply, taking your hand and leading you to the sleek Cadillac he had arrived in.
"Why are you so worried, you're not my boyfriend." You teased him lightly.
He opened the door for you, a smile already on his face. "Not yet."
A/N: lowkey kinda love this concept and might make a part 2 if ppl would be interested in that!
Summary: You're not really a morning person Jaafar knows his girl isn't a morning talker, but he still wants to spend the morning with you.
The soft glow of the morning sun peeked through the curtains, landing directly across your face. The faint sounds of birds outside, You were barely awake.
A warm arm was draped over your waist, holding you against a familiar chest. Jaafar, His heartbeat was steady beneath your cheek. You felt him stir before you heard him.
A sleepy sigh left him as he shifted closer, somehow pulling you even tighter against him."Morning, baby."
His voice was rough from sleep. You didn't answer right away. Just made a small hum in the back of your throat. Jaafar smiled against your hair.
"Yeah, that's about what I expected. "His fingers lazily traced patterns along your side. You kept your eyes closed. Bed was warm, his arms were warm everything was comfortable.
Moving sounded terrible. "You awake?" he said softly, getting a slight nod from you. He chuckled. "Awake enough to answer me?" You made another soft sound.
Not really a word, more of an acknowledgment "Mhm." "There she is." His hand moved up to gently rub your back. You tucked your face closer into his chest. Jaafar's smile widened immediately. "Oh, so we're cuddling instead of talking today?"
You nodded once. "Got it." Neither of you spoke for a minute. You could feel his chest rise and fall beneath your cheek. Feel his fingers running through your hair. It was peaceful.
Then a soft voice spoke again "Baby?" You hummed. "I think you're stealing all the blankets." You cracked one eye open. The blanket was, in fact, mostly wrapped around you. Jaafar was barely covered.
You stared at him, slowly pulled a corner of the blanket toward him. His eyebrows lifted. "Thank you, sweetheart." You closed your eye again. Conversation over. Jaafar laughed softly. "You really don't like mornings." A tiny shake of your head. "Nope."
"Not even a little?" Another shake. "Fair." He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. You didn't react much besides snuggling closer. Jaafar noticed. He always did. His arm tightened around you.
"There you go." The sound of his heartbeat nearly lulled you back to sleep. Almost. His fingers gently tilted your chin upward. You opened your eyes halfway. Jaafar was already looking at you Smiling. A sleepy, affectionate smile that made your chest feel warm.
"Hi." You blinked at him softly mumbled, "Hi." His grin instantly grew. One word. That's all he got. He looked like he'd won the lottery. You watched him for a second before resting your forehead against his shoulder again.
Jaafar laughed quietly. "My quiet girl." A kiss landed on the top of your head. You closed your eyes. "Mhm." "You know I love you, right?" You nodded. His hand squeezed yours beneath the blankets.
"You gonna tell me you love me too?" A long pause. "I Love you too," you said, barely above a whisper. Jaafar's entire face softened. "Yeah?" You nodded against him.
"Good." He kissed your forehead again. "Go back to sleep, baby." You were already halfway there. Wrapped in his arms, Listening to his heartbeat.
cw: fluff, established relationship, makeout, just v cutesy
this was meant to be something short while i finished my other fics but i got a bit carried away</3
you glanced at the clock hanging above the mirrors before letting your head fall back against the wall.
12:42 a.m.
the numbers felt ridiculous.
when jaafar had promised he was only staying for another hour, it had still been yesterday. now the city outside the studio windows was mostly dark, the buildings across the street reduced to scattered squares of light. somewhere below, a lone car passed through the intersection before disappearing from view.
the music started again.
you didn't bother looking up right away.
you already knew what you'd see.
jaafar moved through the same section he'd been working on for most of the night, his reflection following him across the mirrored wall. every now and then, he'd stop to watch the playback on his phone before trying again. you couldn't see what he was seeing. to you, it had looked good hours ago.
jaafar strongly disagreed.
a fond smile pulled at your mouth as you watched him pause halfway through the choreography and mutter something to himself.
his white shirt had long since lost the battle against rehearsal. the fabric clung damply to his skin, and a few curls had fallen loose across his forehead.
drawing your knees up to your chest, you rested your chin on your folded arms, content to watch him from across the room.
the track looped back to the beginning. jaafar moved easily with it, already counting under his breath before the choreography fully began. his feet seemed to know where to go before he even thought about it. every movement flowed naturally into the next, sharp one second and smooth the next.
you weren't a dancer. half the time you couldn't tell what he was trying to fix. but you liked watching him anyway.
maybe it was the way he got so focused that he forgot about everything else around him. maybe it was the little habits you'd learned by heart after sitting through enough rehearsals.
the way he'd bite the inside of his cheek when he was concentrating, or the way his hand would automatically push his curls back whenever they fell into his eyes.
or maybe you just liked looking at him.
across the room, jaafar spun before coming to a stop, shaking his head at himself almost instantly.
you smiled.
he was cute when he got like this.
instead of reaching for his phone again, jaafar lingered where he was, clearly debating whether he could get away with checking it one more time.
you tilted your head. "i think you've earned a break."
a breathless laugh escaped him. "have i?" he asked, tilting his head back at you with his hands resting on his hips.
“yes. my feet are hurting just watching you dance for this long.”
he laughed, the sound softer this time, but his gaze still flickered toward his phone before returning to you.
“don’t even think about it,” you warned playfully.
his mouth twitched into a grin. holding both hands up in surrender, he finally made his way over to your corner of the room.
“you know what?” he said. “i could go for a snack.”
he crouched down in front of you, reaching for your hand. you placed it in his without hesitation. his hands were warm against yours from dancing, his thumbs drifting lazily over the back of your hand as he looked at you.
you tried very hard to ignore the flutter in your chest.
“we could go down to the vending machines and pick something out,” you offered.
“there’s a convenience store just down the street, baby. these vending machines aren’t gonna cut it,” he said with a dramatic sigh.
you laughed.
“i like the way you think.”
“also, fresh air,” he added.
jaafar stood up, keeping his hands locked with yours as he effortlessly pulled you up after him.
“best decision you’ve made all day,” you teased.
he rolled his eyes, smiling as he reached for his sweater and pulled it on.
the last of spring lingered in the air, cool enough to feel against your skin but softened by the promise of summer. jaafar walked beside you with his hand locked in yours, your fingers laced together as he lightly swung your joined hands between you.
the streetlights cast soft pools of gold across the quiet sidewalk.
you couldn't help looking at him.
maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was just him, but the glow from the lamps caught along the sharp edges of his features, softening some parts of him while making others stand out even more.
either way, he looked so handsome.
he caught you staring after a minute of walking in deep thought. you flashed him with a grin, which he returned.
“take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he teased, sounding entirely too pleased with himself.
you laughed despite the painfully lame joke.
“okay,” you said cheerfully.
the sudden agreement caught him off guard.
before he could question it, you slipped your hand from his and stepped behind him, reaching up. you grasped his shoulders and gave him a small tug to make him stop walking.
jaafar caught on quickly, crouching without a word.
the moment you hopped onto his back, his hands settled beneath your thighs to steady you. you wrapped one arm securely around his shoulders while using the other to dig your phone out of your pocket.
opening the camera app, you stretched your arm out in front of you. jaafar leaned in beside you, the two of you flashing the cheesiest, most ridiculous smiles you could manage at the screen
the automatic flash went off without warning.
jaafar squeezed his eyes shut as the camera snapped the picture.
you pulled the phone back to look at the result and immediately burst into giggles, turning the screen so he could see.
you looked fine– a wide grin stretched across your face, your eyes squinting slightly from smiling too hard.
jaafar, on the other hand, looked ridiculous.
his eyes were squeezed shut from the flash, his eyebrows halfway up his forehead, and a dopey grin stretched across his face that somehow matched your own.
“delete that,” he said through a laugh, letting go of one of your thighs to make a grab for your phone.
you saw it coming and pulled it out of reach before he could get anywhere near it, quickly tucking it back into your pocket.
“baby!” he laughed.
“nope. that’s officially my new favourite picture of us.”
“i’m deleting that when you fall asleep tonight.”
“you better not,” you said, lightly whacking his arm.
as the glowing neon sign of the convenience store finally came into view, you shifted on his back, preparing to hop down so you could walk inside normally.
instead, jaafar's grip only tightened around your legs. you turned your head to look at him with a confused expression, which he completely ignored.
“put me down,” you laughed.
“nope.”
a mischievous spark flashed through his eyes before he turned his head and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. he bounced you slightly on his back as he adjusted his grip.
“jaafar, seriously. we're going inside,” you whisper-shouted, already fighting a laugh as you buried your face against the side of his neck. his cologne had faded a little over the course of the night, softened now by hours of dancing.
“i know," he replied, his voice rumbling low against your chest.
he pushed open the glass door with his shoulder, the bell above it letting out a cheerful ding that seemed far too energetic for nearly one in the morning.
inside, the store was bathed in that familiar, unforgivingly bright fluorescent lighting.
the cashier behind the counter barely glanced up with a bored look before returning to whatever was on his phone.
“see? no one cares," jaafar murmured, though he was grinning so wide his cheeks were practically pressing into yours.
“you're ridiculous," you giggled, burying your face in jaafar’s shoulder as he carried you straight toward the candy aisle. your feet swung idly with each step.
he stopped in front of the shelves and immediately reached for a bright yellow bag.
reaching out with one hand while keeping a steady grip on your thigh with the other, he snagged a bag of sour patch kids and shook them right next to your ear so the sugar rattled inside.
“the best part of the night, right here," he said, a genuine, boyish grin pulling at his lips.
“you're going to burn a hole in your stomach eating those this late," you joked, leaning over his shoulder to scan the rows. your fingers wrapped around the packaging of your own absolute favorite snack, pulling it down.
“the sour wakes me up," he argued, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "what's your excuse?"
“i don't need an excuse. i'm just keeping you company,” you countered, nudging his cheek with your own.
jaafar let out another one of his breathless laughs. he turned around on his heel, keeping you securely on his back as he walked the few steps over to the drink cooler to grab a couple of bottles to wash down the sugar.
the cashier scanned everything with the same bored rhythm he’d had since you’d walked in, the register beeping softly in the quiet store.
“reach into my pocket,” jaafar said, tilting his head back slightly. “my wallet's in there.”
you nodded as you leaned down to slide your hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet.
as the cashier muttered the total, you flipped it open, found his card, and tapped it against the reader for him. the machine chimed as you slipped the wallet back into your own pocket for safekeeping.
“teamwork,” you whispered in his ear.
his smile widened at that as he leaned forward just enough for you to grab the snacks from the counter before turning back toward the door.
as soon as the glass door swung open and the cool, crisp night air hit you again, jaafar finally let you slide down his back, your sneakers hitting the pavement.
you felt a sudden wave of peaceful contentment wash over you. the city was so quiet, like the dark streets belonged entirely to the two of you.
jaafar didn't even wait to get back to the studio.
before you had even walked ten steps from the storefront, you heard the sharp tear of plastic.
he reached into the bag, his long fingers pulling out a red sour patch kid.
instead of eating it himself, he held it up to your lips.
“first one’s yours,” he said softly, nudging it towards your mouth.
you smiled and leaned forward, taking the candy from his fingers. the familiar sweet-and-sour flavor burst across your tongue as you chewed.
jaafar watched you for a second, a quiet, satisfied chuckle escaping him when you gave him an approving nod.
only then did he grab a couple for himself.
“good, right?" he murmured.
you nodded.
he shoved the candy bag into his jacket pocket and slipped his fingers back into yours, lacing them together.
he slowed his pace to match yours perfectly, lifting your joined hands just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to the back of your knuckles.
by the time you made it back to the studio, the midnight chill was easily forgotten.
jaafar pushed the heavy door open, and the quiet warmth of the building welcomed you both back inside.
the music from earlier was still paused on his phone, the empty floor and the wall of mirrors exactly as you had left them.
instead of heading back to your corner by the wall, jaafar tugged gently on your hand, pulling you right into the center of the room.
“c’mere,” he said, a mischievous grin playing on his lips as he reached over to hit play on his phone.
“jaafar, no, I told you I'm not a dancer," you laughed, trying to pull back, but he didn't let you get far.
“doesn't matter. just follow me," he murmured.
the music started up again, a smooth, slow rhythm filling the empty space.
jaafar wrapped one arm securely around your waist, pulling you flush against him, while his other hand kept yours held high. he started to move, guiding you through a relaxed, effortless sway that had absolutely nothing to do with the sharp, intense choreography he’d been stressing over all night.
much to your surprise, it actually went okay. jaafar steered you with a gentle pressure at your waist, guiding you in wherever you needed to go next.
“see? you're doing great," he teased, spinning you out under his arm before pulling you right back into his space.
"okay, this isn't that ba– shit!"
the words barely left your mouth before jaafar dipped you, arm locked around your waist to keep you from falling.
your grip on him locked around him until he pulled you upright again, nearly stepping on your own feet.
"jaafar!"
his laugh echoed through the empty studio as he pulled you securely against him.
“i hate you.”
“no, you don’t,” he countered, his voice full of amusement.
“i do. my life flashed before my eyes,” you complained, though the grin stretching across your face completely ruined any attempt at sounding serious.
you rested your hands on his shoulders, your heart thumping a little faster.
partly from the sudden dip.
partly from how incredibly close he was holding you.
“i had you the whole time. I'd never let you fall," he murmured. the playful edge in his voice softened just a bit, his thumbs tracing quiet, comforting circles through the fabric of your shirt.
the music around you began to fade out, the last notes drifting through the studio before disappearing altogether.
silence settled over the room, but neither of you moved.
the playful banter trailed off into a quiet, breathless smile as jaafar looked down at you. the studio lights caught the damp curls falling across his forehead, casting a warm glow over the sharp angles of his face. his gaze drifted down to your lips before rising back to your eyes, a sudden, heavy tenderness settling between you.
“i love you,” he whispered.
before you could even respond, he leaned down and closed the small distance between you.
the kiss was soft at first, a gentle, lingering pressure that tasted faintly of the sweet candy you’d just shared. a quiet sigh escaped you, your eyes fluttering shut as you melted into him. jaafar’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer as the kiss deepened. his lips were incredibly soft, moving against yours with a slow, deliberate sweetness that made your head spin.
one of his hands slid up from your waist, his long fingers trailing up your spine before tangling gently in the hair at the nape of your neck, holding you close.
the kiss was soft, slow, entirely unhurried, and full of quiet affection that left you completely breathless.
every time he pulled back just an inch, his lips would brush yours again, as if he couldn't quite bring himself to fully break the contact.
when he finally did let you catch your breath, he rested his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning across your cheek as his thumb gently traced your jawline.
“thanks for staying up with me," he said, his voice dropping into that quiet, intimate register that always made your heart do a dangerous little flip.
"even if you are keeping that blackmail photo."
a quiet laugh slipped out of you.
“oh, it's never leaving my phone," you smiled, your voice a little breathy as you leaned into his touch.
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
he'd sooooo put that pic as his wallpaper later
this is lowk unedited so if u see any mistakes pls pretend u don't
summary: michael's nanny confessed she's never had an orgasm, & he took that personally.
tags: !smut, hired nanny, late night drinking, confessions, fingering, going down on you, desperate n' dirty sex, multiple orgasms, taboo concept,
a/n: this was requested & I couldn't get my mind off the idea because it was so sexy, anon I luv you.
p.s I got a bit filthy with this one, hope y'all don't mind
You've been hired as Michael's personal nanny for around 8 months — nearly a year. You enjoy it a lot, playing Jenga with his kids all night long, then tucking them in bed with a little story you made up. Even doing the dishes was enjoyable. Also, not to mention that Michael's house was huge, he had countless rooms for each of his specific niches. Sometimes when everyone's gone to sleep, you'll sneak out of your bed & snoop around each of the rooms, just out of curiosity. Your house is so small, so being here is like being on holiday. Although when he’s away touring or just busy, you’d miss his company.
Michael’s been so very kind & just to you ever since you've been working for him. You protested to him that you didn't even need a room at first, that you could just sleep on one of his couches. The idea irritated him.
"I'm not having no lady sleep on a couch, you'll sleep in a proper room, your own. I'll make it real nice for you." He'd say.
& he did. You told him you loved baby pink, so he'd hire someone to paint the walls pink, install clean white coving & put some pretty floral sheets on your bed with a little vanity installed across the room. You were shocked when you saw your bed was king-sized.
“This is too much Michael…”
“It’s the least I could do to thank you.”
You aggressively scrub the stains from tonight's dinner off the bone china plates as you do the dishes, your hair tied up in a messy pony with a tight polka-dot white apron on. Soft rain taps on the kitchen window, the draft of air from the opening crack hitting your face blissfully. You overhear the soft mumbles of Michael & his children a few floors above you as he puts them to bed.
“Goodnight, Daddy. Love you.” They say in their sweet little voices.
“I love you guys too. Sleep well now. Busy day tomorrow.” You hear Michael say.
You smile to yourself, continuing to scrub as you hear heavy footfall coming down the stairs. You straighten your back & flick the hair out of your face. You hate to admit it, but you think you’re starting to develop a little something for Michael. Any little thought you have of him that’s mildly inappropriate, you push it away instantly. You’re a professional after all.
“You didn’t have to do that,” you hear a soft voice mumble behind you.
You turn to see Michael propped up against the doorframe with his hands behind his back. His eyes were dark and worn from the intensity of the day. He’s wearing a loose linen white shirt paired with baggy grey sweatpants & his glasses. You only really see him wear them in the evening, you secretly love them.
“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. It’s my job after all, right?” You chirp sweetly as you continue to scrub, a little gentler now.
You always try to appear perfect around Michael, sweet & polite at all times. Not because it’s part of your job to maintain a modicum of respect, but because you want him to like you personally. He’s such a huge public figure, a star — the thought of being close to him excites you.
“I know.” He says, taking the wet plates you’ve washed & drying them off. “My mother raised me to be a gentleman. So nanny or not, it never sits right with me for a woman to be doing all my dirty work, y’know?”
You nod softly, giving him an understanding smile as you continue to lay wet plates on the rack.
A few minutes pass of you & Michael cleaning & drying the dishes together, mindless small talk floating in the air. It'd been a long day for you, the weather was burning hot, which automatically made you sluggish, & the children were constantly begging for your attention while you attempted to do 1000 other tasks at once. So surprisingly, doing the dishes with Michael in the cool of the temperate evening soothed your nerves.
You passed Michael the last remaining dish as he dried it off, placing it in the cabinet with a clank. You pull the plug as you watch the soapy water collect down the drain, feeling Michaels eyes on your back.
You turn around with a loud sigh, attempting to fill in the awkward silence that hangs in the air while you two share a glance, just smiling.
"Well," you cut in, wiping surplus water off your manicured hands on your apron, "you tucked the children into bed?"
Michael takes his glasses off in one swipe, hanging them on his shirt opening.
"Yes I did, they'll sleep tight. I know they bothered you a lot today, they can get pretty active, so i'm sorry about that." He chuckles softly, the sound sending a mere tingle to your belly.
You two haven't had a proper two-on-two conversation since the morning started. After that, tasks had to be done, errands had to be run, so you two never got the chance to really talk. You shake your head with a reassuring smile, your cheeks a little rosy.
"I understand that constantly playing with children can be hard & tiring, especially when you don't want too but,"
You untie your apron from behind, placing it on the counter top. Michael's eyes fall to your waist instinctively, crossing his arms & shifting his feet.
"I like playing around y'know? I find it fun. I like my job." You smile, showing off your pearly whites.
Michael nods slowly, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on yours & not gawk like a pervert at your tanned legs n' thighs under your sundress.
"Good," he said gently. "You know I'd hate to think you're only staying because the pay's decent."
You let out a little giggle from his comment.
"If I didn't like being here I'd be gone by now, trust me."
Something about your comment seemed to please him by the look on his face; he liked having you here. Not because you were doing most of his work for him or taking extra care of his children, but because he liked you. Secretly, he liked having a sweet piece of ass around the house 24/7. He'd never tell you that, though; he's a gentleman after all.
Michael clapped his hands together, turning around to open the cabinet behind him full of all different types of liquor. You watch him pull out an expensive looking bottle of pinot, holding it in front of you.
"its's been a long day, how do you feel about a glass of wine? Do you drink?" He asks.
"Occasionally, yes." You mumble, taking the bottle from his hand as you analyse the label intently.
"Great."
Michael takes 2 slim wine glasses from the bottom cabinet as you read the label, you forget how wealthy he is. The wine you drink is nowhere near as rich as this.
"Burgundy Pinot Noir? Seems nice."
Michael hums in agreement as you pass the bottle back to him. He pops open the cork, the soft glug of wine filled the silence as he tipped the bottle. Deep red swirled into both glasses, a little more than you'd usually drink of an evening. You take a quick peek at his back before he turns to pass you the glass; it's lean & broad. His back bones n' muscles stretch his shirt a little. You feel your bottom lip pull in a little before you stop yourself.
"Here," he turns to hand you a glass, "I hope this isn't too much."
You take the glass & swirl it around a little, smelling the rim. It's rich, fruity, & sexy. The scent travels straight down in-between your legs.
"No it's not. I enjoy your company," you say.
"I meant the contents of your glass," Michael laughs as he takes a short sip, his pearly whites shining.
You feel your face burn up a little from embarrassment, chuckling to yourself.
"Oh! no, this is perfect. The amount is perfect." You reiterate.
Michael smiles to himself, the innocence of your embarrassment flattering him. Sure, you're a full-grown adult, but you have this innocence about you that he picks up on. Your sweet floral scent when you pass him by, or your cute coordinated outfits you pick out every day. He'd always love seeing you in those little sundresses that revealed the smooth of your calves & chest. He'd feel guilty for thinking of you like that, but he couldn't help it. He finds you immensely beautiful & special, he can't help but wonder who gets to enjoy you.
"You wanna go to the front room? Might be a little more comfortable to sit down," he questions, starting to move towards said room.
"Yeah sure, good idea."
You follow him to the front room. It's lit up dimly with a singular chandelier & scattered candles around the room in various places. He usually does this after he puts his children to bed — relishes in his solitude. You never really got the chance to share this opportunity with him. You'd usually go to bed around this time too but since the day was drawn out longer than usual, he caught you just in time. The room smells of him, with notes of incense. You feel your heart rate pick up, for what reason you don't know.
"Do you do this often?" You say, taking a seat on the couch as he follows, plopping himself down a little too close to you, so close you can smell him.
Michael leans back on the arm of the couch, one hand wrapped around the back cushion while the other holds his glass. You swallow, your legs neatly closed as you sit upright, holding your glass with both hands in front of you. You don't know why you're nervous. You've spent time with him before, but this time just feels different. Maybe it's in your head, you try to relax.
"Drink wine?" he questions.
"Invite your employees for a drink after work kinda thing," your voice sweet in comparison to the deepness of his own. You've noticed it gets lower in the evening, perhaps from his lack of energy.
"Uh, sometimes yes. But if it makes you feel better, I enjoy your company the most." He says softly. "Not only do you do a lot around here, but you've got a lovely personality. Im grateful to have you in my home, truly.”
You smile warmly. The thought of your presence being accepted in his home makes you warm.
"Thank you, Mr Jackson. Means a lot." You take another sip, you feel your head start to become weightless, a little more ditzy. You've never been good with your alcohol.
"Oh, & I've been meaning to tell you, please don’t call me that." He pleads, placing a hand on his chest sincerely. "Call me Michael. My father used to make us call him Joseph; it's not the way it should be."
"Well, thank you, Michael. It means a lot." You say, pressing your thighs together a little harder than usual.
“No, thank you.”
A solid 10 minutes pass by of you & Michael sharing each others company, growing closer & closer by the minute, learning more about each other with each sip. Before you knew it, the conversation was drifting from topic to topic without paying any attention to the appropriateness of it. You were both too far gone, only a quarter of your wine left.
"You ever think you'd be somewhere completely different by now?" you questioned. Your body now slouched into the couch, one leg thrown over the other.
Michael stared at you a little longer, his eyes half lidded n' hazy as he tries to understand your question before answering.
"Different how? Like marriage?"
You shrugged, your lips pouty n' stained a deep red from the wine. Your eyes slightly drunken. The state of you making his cock twitch in his pants.
"Yeah, marriage. You never wanna get married? I don't see a ring on your finger," you slur, pointing to his hand.
Michael blushes, scratching his head.
"No, I do. I wanna get married. I've been married, I've had a lot of experience in that sector, but it never works out, y'know."
You nod, a sympathetic look on your face, "I'm sorry about that."
"It's okay. Well, and you? you've never been married?" He asks, sliding a hand through his thick black hair. Part of him inside is smiling at the fact he's able to find out more about you. He didn't ask you to drink with him for that specific reason, but the line is starting to blur.
"No never. I've had a few boyfriends but...they also never worked out. I've never been happy with someone. In all ways."
"So you've never had a serious man?" He inquires, subconsciously sitting up. Now more intently focused when it comes to your love life.
You snicker into your glass, your teeth clanking against the delicate material, "None worth writing home about."
His eyebrows raise in surprise, taking a final sip of his wine before placing the glass on the coffee table beside him.
"Thats very hard to believe."
You furrow your brows with a little tantalising smirk, inching him to elaborate.
"Well you're beautiful," he gestures a hand at your figure. "Smart, good with children. I would've thought somebody would've appreciated you enough to keep you by their side by now."
Tingles n' heat creep up into your cheeks, your lashes fluttering with nerves as you force yourself to smile & thank him.
"Thank you." Is all you can manage.
"Why do I get the feeling every guy you've dated has been a total dimwit?" He whispers. His irritation rising knowing no man will ever take care of you the way he knows he could.
You chuckle, "You'd be right then."
His eyes never leave yours, "What, did they just never treat you right, Is that it?"
You hesitated a little, lips moving to say something but then faltering. Your lips stay around the rim of your empty glass. Michael noticed your hesitation instantly.
"What? Come on!" he teases you, giving your knee a soft nudge.
"No I cant, it's so embarrassing." You laugh, stretching your hand to put your glass down on the table.
Michael points at himself, his face straight all of a sudden.
"Embarrassing? Do you know the amount of embarrassment I had to go through in my career?" He snickers.
He shifts to sit up more, counting on his fingers, "Pepsi Incident, false accusations, women not liking me back. Countless things! I can go on-"
"Okay, okay." You start, pinching your eyes together with your fingers, your cheeks practically on fire at this point.
Michael goes silent instantly as he waits, his hands wrapped around the couch again.
“I’ve just never been satisfied, sexually. I find that important in a relationship.” You come out.
“You what?” He laughs breathlessly, taken back.
The thought of what you're saying to Michael right now doesn’t even register in your brain. You’re just talking, completely relaxed. It’s a nice feeling, yet a little risky to your relationship.
“I’ve never got there.” You close your eyes.
Michael’s lips fall agape as you confess to never having an orgasm. Not knowing what to say. He can’t help but ask more questions, as less perverse as possible.
“Not even…alone?” He says barely above a whisper.
You shake your head slowly, letting your head fall into your hands as you laugh to yourself, completely exposed & vulnerable. You’re drunk, yet after saying it it’s like you’ve sobered up. You're regretting it. You press on, trying to explain yourself.
“I’ve heard my friends talk of it about their relationships, even alone. But I’ve just never been able to, let alone with another person. So there you go, that’s my secret.”
You reach for your glass before realising it's empty, not knowing what to do with your hands. You just keep your head down, avoiding eye contact. The silence is unbearable, the room is practically choking you from how small it feels. Michael doesn't answer right away, though you feel the burn of his stare on you. You cant tell if it's sympathy or judgement. The confusion is killing you. You decide to look up at him momentarily, he's already looking into your eyes. He didn't look shocked or amused, he was just looking at you.
"Wanna know how it feels?" He says, his voice an octave lower.
Your eyes shot up at him, your heart racing so hard you swear he can hear it.
"What do you mean?" You mumble pathetically, your face like a deer in headlights.
"I mean do you wanna know how it feels? just a question, truly."
His poker face isn't telling you jack, it's like he's left you to interpretation. You straighten your back, trying to appear confident.
"Uh, yes. Yes I do."
Michael scoots a little closer to you on the couch, his knee brushing yours. You can tell he's trying to seem as natural as possible. You watch him through half lidded eyes, trying to keep your balance upright as you're a little tipsy, so is he.
"You're a kind girl, I cant help but feel genuine sympathy for you. You mean to tell me you've spent all this time wondering what it feels like?"
You clear your throat, crossing your legs as you give him a little nod.
He pouts a little, "& how far would you be willing to go?"
"How far would I be willing to go for what?"
"To feel the one thing no one has ever made you feel."
You think to yourself, the number of times you'd feel terribly aroused at home, knowing you need some sort of release but not knowing how to deal with it. Or the sickening envy you'd feel hearing your friends talk about the way they came so hard they cried. Or even just your string of bad dates that included horrible sex. You hated it; you felt like a child.
You nod, "Far."
"Let me help you then." He snaps with no restraint. You look at his face, searching for any sign of unseriousness. You don’t find anything.
You feel a pulse start to build up in your cunt at the mere thought of Michael helping you. You work for him, you think to yourself. The taboo nature of the idea arouses you, yet you try to let your morals win.
“Help me with that?” You say below a whisper, saying it out loud feels like a crime. “I don’t think that’d be right, I work for you.”
“I know you do, but I’m only trying to help. It stays in this room. Only if you’re willing.” He says, his bottom lip drawing in at the possible reality.
“But what will I tell people-“
“You don’t have to tell anyone anything. This is supposed to be private. Just a person helping another person hm?”
You let the thought ponder in your head, you remember you’ve had fantasies of this man. You’d wake up in hot sweats from multiple sex dreams of him lapping up your pussy with his tongue, only to beat yourself up for it afterwards. The frame of his body, his hair, those sexy pair of eyes that threaten your self respect everyday.
“Teach me.” You nod innocently, your voice laced with a mix of desire & hesitation. You knew deep down you wanted him bad.
“You sure?” He says, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.
“Yes, I want too. I want you to make me feel it.” You scoot forward, blinking rapidly from excitement.
“Take your hair down,” he says, rubbing your shoulder gently.
You follow his command, letting your hair down out of your clip, placing it neatly on the table.
“Good, now just relax okay? you look tense. That’s not gonna help either y’know?” He cooes.
You nod along like you have no brain of your own, completely in his mercy. You like being told what to do, not having to think.
Michael’s now close & facing you, softly rubbing your smooth arms to try & relax you — prepping you. His eyes fall to your lips, ripe & agape. Just begging to be kissed n' licked.
Without any warning, he leans in & presses his lips to yours, automatically moving his hands to cup your jaw; your skin burns under his touch. He proceeds to slide his tongue between your lips, asking for permission to be let in. You hum, allowing him. With no time to waste, you feel him enter your mouth, his tongue dancing with your own, warm & wet. You mewl into the kiss, your brows pressing together as the ache in your core grows larger. You place your hands on his shoulders & squeeze, forcing yourself to have a mind of your own.
"Mhm, there you go. Just go with the flow." He mumbled, his words barely audible, muffled by your puffy lips.
He breaks the kiss, leaving you pouting in loss of contact. Strands of hair stick to the wetness he left on your lips.
"What happened?" You say, your eyes blown out.
"Nothing," he chuckles, "Just relax & lay back, can you do that for me?"
"Mhm," you slowly lay back on the couch cushions behind you, keeping your legs together as your hands remain on your lap. It's like you've been fantasising about this moment, but when it comes, you get all shy. You can tell he's getting off on it by the bulge growing in his sweatpants, but you pretend not to notice.
"Face me, baby." He says, turning you in his direction by your waist. You feel your pussy grow wetter & wetter by the second, your thoughts clouded by the unrelenting desire for his touch down there.
His calloused hands run down from your thighs to your knees, "gonna open now okay?" he whispers, peppering a little kiss on your collarbone.
You nod, keeping your doe'd eyes on him as he slowly pushes your legs open, your sundress riding up as he does so. A few more forced pushes of your legs & they're completely open. Your pink cotton panties stained with a dark circle in the middle from your arousal. You hear him whisper profanities under his breath as he stares at your clothed pussy, your lips showing a little through the material.
"Pink really is your favourite colour, so damn pretty." He purrs, caressing the inner skin of your thighs. The rough texture of his palms against the smoothness of your skin causing little mewls to fall from your lips. He's here to help you, yet the stiffness of his cock keeps betraying him.
Michael places a gentle hand against your chest, "Breathe, baby."
You realise how hard your heart is beating, you can't tell if it's from nerves or pure arousal but you attempt to steady your breathing.
"Sorry, I think I'm just really turned on." You shudder.
Michael caresses your jaw, "Thats the most important factor."
He leans down, placing light little kisses on your thighs & knees. You tremble from the contact. He holds one of your feet with one hand, kissing your perfectly manicured toes as the other hand rubs on your the curve of your ass.
"Please touch me," You beg, giving your pussy a little stroke to signal to him where you want it.
He gently slides his middle & index finger up your wet slit, your arousal totally soaked through the cheap fabric of your panties. Your mouth falls open with no sound at first, just pleasurable shock. The feeling of the tips of his fingers grazing over your clit making you squeak like a slut.
Michael presses a finger to your lips with his free hand, "Try to be quiet okay? I know it's hard." He orders.
His cock is throbbing like a ticking time bomb under his sweatpants at the sight of you all drunken & horny in front of him, legs splayed open waiting for him to help you.
"Mm, sorry." You mumble under his finger, trying to keep your eyes out of the back of your head as he continues rubbing softly.
He tugs at the side of your panties, moving them to the side slowly to reveal your glossy folds. There might as well be a twinkle In his eye as he stares.
"Damn," He breathes out, giving your swollen clit a rub with his thumb.
You arch your back immediately, covering your mouth as he rubs your clit tantalising slow.
"Fuck, Michael. I swear It's never felt that good." You gasp, drawing your bottom lip under your teeth painfully hard.
He smiles, his ego rising from your comment. He proceeds to rub in small circles with his index & middle finger in a steady rhythm, gathering your juices from the bottom to rub all over your clit.
"Let's get this down," he says to himself, pulling the upper half of your dress down with one hand, letting your perky tits fall free. He gawks at the view, forgetting this isn't about him — it's all about you.
You feel heat rise in your face again, you've never felt so exposed & horny in your life.
He gropes the curve of your breast with his free hand, rolling your nipple through his fingers as he continues his work on your pussy.
"Feeling good, ma? You need to tell me."
Your head falls back on the arm of the couch as you nod, your stomach twitching from the pleasure as you try to stop your moans from erupting — you're soaked for him.
"Feels so good Michael," You cry out. The muscles in your thighs starting to clench as you chase something you don't even know what.
He takes his hands away, unbuttoning his shirt in a frenzy as he tosses it on the floor. He comes back, though this time you feel 2 slender fingers slowly slide in you, curving just right.
"Oh my god," You whine, your eyes falling into your head.
He continues to roll your nipple between his fingers with his free hand, all while kissing you simultaneously.
Your body wasn't the only thing he'd ogle at, your lips were insanely arousing to him too, he didn't know where to touch or kiss you now that he had you like this.
Your hand snaps into his hair, grabbing on for dear life as you feel yourself begin to tremble & shake, he feels it too.
"Michael? Something's happening." You whimper, your brows pressed tight as you look at him for an answer, your eyes glossy.
"Thaats it," he encourages you. "You feel it baby? I ain't stopping."
Immense pressure coiled tighter inside of you, every breath becoming harder & harder to catch the more he fingers you perfectly on your g-spot — no one's ever hit the right spot, yet he seems to know exactly where you like it.
"Michael, Michael!" You cry.
"Yes," he hisses, "Let go." He leans down.
You feel his supple mouth latch onto your pussy, lapping & sucking gently on your sensitive nub as he continues to curl his fingers into you. You break immediately; the tension that had been building for minutes reaches a point where it feels unmanageable. The coil in your belly snaps, something in you lets go, your muscles tightening as your pulse thunders in your ears with blind spots covering your vision.
You squeal as you cum on his mouth, your eyes pinched shut as you try to come back to life. Once you have the energy to lift your head, you look down at Michael, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices as he pants, smiling at you warmly. He sits up, licking n' sucking his fingers like a child with candy.
"Thats an orgasm," He smirks, a cocky look on his face. He brings a finger to your mouth, "Taste yourself, you did that."
You hesitate before latching your mouth around his finger, sucking on it looking at him. You taste sweet, just how you're feeling.
"I didn't know I could do that," You bite your lip, feeling a sense of achievement wash over you as Michael watches you in amusement.
"Glad I could help." He chuckles.
You stay lying, your panties still shifted to the side. You pull them off in one swift motion, throwing them on top of his shirt on the floor. You don't know how, but your orgasm gave you a wave of confidence. You feel like you could do anything; you feel like a woman.
"Though," You press on the bulge through his sweatpants with your foot, it's extremely hard.
"I wanna cum again, but with this," you plead, not wanting to say the word.
He bites his lower lip as he thinks about it, running a hand through his hair. Touching you is one thing, but fucking his nanny on his living room couch while his children are asleep, that's messy — & he liked it.
Before you could process what's happening, he's rolling his sweats down, giving his cock a little grab before finally sliding off his boxers too. You salivate at the sight of him. Thick, slender, & deep in colour. You instinctively open your legs wider, inviting him over. He climbs over you, one hand braced next to your head while the other juts your chin up for you to look at him, your eyes too busy on his cock.
"No one can know about this, you hear me?" He presses.
You nod frantically, "I promise."
You reach out to touch him, you give him a few little strokes. Your hand felt tiny up against it. He drops his head on your chest from the feeling of your hand movements. You let out a little moan as you attempt to line him up to your weeping slit, the feeling of it rubbing against you driving you crazy. You buck your hips forward, desperate to have him inside of you.
"Let me, baby, relax." He takes over, lining himself up with your entrance.
You feel him begin to crown you a little, already feeling a bitter sweet sting start to form.
"Please, all in." You beg as you hold your legs open, your hands in the backs of your knees.
"Dammit,"
Michael sinks all of his length into you, the pleasure feeling even more intense than before. Your hands shoot to his shoulders to push him back a little as you squeal, your lashes fluttering as you look at him from beneath them. You start to move your hips desperately, you loved watching how it disappears & reappears beneath you, he's the biggest you've ever felt. It feels like you're having sex for the first time again.
The sound of your mixed arousal is like music to his ears as he begins to form a steady rhythm with you. He manages to hit your g-spot constantly, never missing.
"You're gonna be the death of me." He grits, grabbing one of your breasts as he leans down to suck on one of your nipples slowly & sensually.
You whimper into his clammy hair as he's leant down, your eyes rolling back as you begin to feel the same coil in your belly you felt earlier — now able to recognise it. You let go of your thighs, your strength faltering as you come closer to your release. Michael's hands quickly replace yours, pushing your thighs back a little as he continues rolling his hips into you.
“Mm—harder,” you beg, looking up at him all pretty. Your eyes sparkle with quiet mischief, “fuck me harder.”
The sweet sound of skin meeting skin starting to creep up the harder he goes, eager for you to come again. He wants that for you.
"Michael, It's happening again I feel it. I think i'm gonna come." You warn, your eyes squeezing shut as you feel his mouth press against yours hot & messily.
He pulled back an inch from your lips, just enough to murmur, "Come for me," as he planted an encouraging slap on the side of your ass.
With a sharp cry buried deep into his shoulder, you come hard. Your vision is blocked out once again, the same pulse in your ears as you squeeze around him. You twitch beneath him.
Michael planned to last longer in the hope of pleasuring you for as long as you saw fit, yet the way your pussy clenched around him brought him to a sharp halt instantly.
"Oh, god." He whines, pulling out & stroking himself desperately as he finishes all over your thighs. You hum in pleasure as you watch his warm release slide down your skin slowly.
You pant, looking up at him with a satisfied smile as he runs a hand across your cheek, droplets of sweat from his hair hitting your forehead.
"Thanks for helping me."
Michael brushed a strand of hair from your face.
"Anytime." He giggles.
"For the first time in my life, i'm able to understand what everyone is talking about."
summary: a perfect beach day with your sweet boyfriend should have ended in peace, but when his brothers’ usual teasing pushes Michael’s insecurities a little too far, you’re quick to remind him exactly where he stands ‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.
warning: sexual themes, smut, 18+, jealousy, insecurity & slight mild emotional hurt, fluff, family teasing, slight possessiveness, shower sex, already an established relationship, maybe a bit of a breeding kink thrown in there lol
a/n: hope u like this cute lil story!!! i have been quite busy with work and moving apartments, so i tried to write this quickly in between the chaos, have a nice weekend everyone <3♡‧₊˚
A comfortable silence settled inside the baby blue Cadillac as a sweet beach day slowly came to an end. The smoldering California heat was finally beginning to subside.
This was one of those rare days when your usually busy boyfriend had cleared his schedule completely — an entire day devoted to you.
The scent of sunscreen and coconut lingered on both your skin. Your hair was still damp with saltwater, beginning to dry into soft, messy waves. Your curls looked untamed and golden, lightened by the sun. A warm, sun-kissed glow had settled over your skin.
You'd had a wonderful day, and you were silently grateful Michael had brought his Polaroid camera to capture it all.
Maybe it was the excitement of a new relationship — or the fact that you hadn't seen your sweet, hardworking boyfriend in an entire week — but you couldn't help staying close to him in the back seat. Almost draped over him.
Your fingers remained intertwined, your head resting on his shoulder, both of your curls blending together in the lingering warmth.
You glanced up at him instinctively. He looked down at the same moment. A soft grin spread across both of your faces before he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.
You held his gaze for a moment longer — soft, loving, intense — his eyes catching the sunset so perfectly they looked like burning amber.
Your intimate moment came to a gentle halt as the car slowed to a stop. Sweet old Bill was probably tired of driving lovestruck youngsters around all day. Although he kept his distance and mainly handled pickups and drop-offs, he'd been around long enough to witness plenty of your softness together.
Bill adored Michael and you, of course — but sometimes the two of you were so in love it was basically a public service announcement, and he had no choice but to play third wheel.
"Finally home, lovebirds," the older man said, his brown eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror.
You gave him a bright smile and a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Thank you, Bill."
The man was practically a Jackson family member himself, and you couldn't help but see him in a fatherly light sometimes. He had a soft spot in your heart.
Michael gave him a quick handshake of thanks through the leather seats before stepping out. He immediately reached back for your hand, helping you out of the car.
The midday heat had softened into something gentler. The air smelled faintly of jasmine blooming nearby.
You walked side by side toward the house when Michael slipped an arm around your waist.
"This has really been one of the best days I've had in a while," he said, looking at you with the most lovesick expression in his eyes. "My beautiful angel."
Something warm spread through your chest at his words, your smile softening as you looked back at him — like you still couldn't quite believe he was real sometimes.
"I love you, Mikey."
For a moment, his expression only deepened, like he was holding onto that sentence.
"I love you too, angel."
He squeezed your waist lightly before letting go as the front door came into view. He opened it slowly, and you both stepped inside.
Thankfully, most of the family members were out. The lack of cars outside confirmed it — except for a few.
Your suspicions were confirmed the moment loud commotion drifted in from the kitchen. You exchanged a quick look with Michael.
Ah yes — the sweet-talk trio.
Michael had always appreciated how much you liked his family, and they liked you just as much. But whenever even one of them was around — or all three together — it never took long before the teasing started. Words like foxy, sultry, and trouble were thrown around far too easily, always followed by jokes about how Michael had somehow "managed to land you" of all people.
Michael hated it more than he'd ever admit. Not because they were trying to be cruel — but because it always stirred something uncomfortable inside him. There was a trace of insecurity there, quiet and unspoken. Like he couldn't quite believe you were real — or that someone like you had chosen him at all.
You noticed it, even if he never said it aloud.
That's why you always called him pet names like pretty boy or angel face. Because to you, he wasn't just talent and charm and mystery — he was beauty itself. Soft. Rare. Irreplaceable. You just wished he could see it as easily as you did.
You walked into the kitchen hand in hand.
You were wearing a tiny denim halter dress that left little to the imagination, a gold pendant resting at your chest with a delicate "M" engraved into it — a gift from him, of course. On your feet were your wooden platform clogs, adding to your sun-drenched, effortless look. You looked like you had stepped straight out of a magazine.
Michael, however, could only look at you in awe — and slight nervousness. He already knew what was coming.
As soon as you rounded the corner, the three of them were there — Jackie, Marlon, and Jermaine sprawled around the kitchen island, lazily tossing a tiny basketball back and forth between them before they noticed the two of you.
Jackie spotted you first and let out a low whistle.
"Well, damn," he grinned, giving you a quick once-over. "Mike really let you leave the house dressed like that? Man's braver than me."
You rolled your eyes dramatically. "Ew."
Marlon immediately burst out laughing.
The flirting never really fazed you. They were Michael's brothers before they were anything else, and the idea of entertaining them like that was honestly almost funny to you. Besides, you knew it was all playful — none of them actually expected anything from it, and if anyone ever crossed a line, you would've made yourself perfectly clear.
Marlon laughed at your reaction, spinning the basketball on one finger before pointing toward the gold pendant around your neck.
"You see that 'M' around her neck, Jackie?" he said. "You ain't got a chance, brother." Then he looked at you with an exaggerated grin. "But me, however…" He placed a hand against his chest dramatically. "Now that's a different story, sweetheart."
You snorted. "Yeah right, Marlon."
Laughing softly, you tossed the beach towel in your hand at him, earning a loud cackle from the kitchen.
Michael, meanwhile, let out a long sigh. "Are y'all done now?" he muttered, already making his way toward the fridge.
Before anyone could answer, Jermaine cut in immediately, like he'd been waiting for his turn all along. He leaned back against the counter with a smirk.
"She trouble in that dress," he said casually. "Legs for days, all sun-kissed and pretty… got Mikey all lovesick." Michael shut the fridge door harder than necessary. Jermaine only grinned wider. "Bet he spent all day rubbin' sunscreen on your back and feedin' you grapes."
"Oh my God," you groaned, covering your face briefly. "You're just jealous he actually has somebody to rub sunscreen on."
The kitchen immediately erupted into loud whistles and dramatic "ooohs." Marlon nearly doubled over laughing while Jackie pointed at Jermaine like he'd just lost an argument.
You caught the small, half-proud smile tugging at Michael's lips before he reached for your hand again, pulling you closer against his side.
Jermaine noticed instantly. "Man, look at him," he laughed. "Holdin' her hand immediately like she gon' disappear." Michael's grip tightened slightly. "Our baby brother gone soft."
"Jermaine," Jackie warned through a grin.
But Jermaine kept going anyway. "You better keep an eye on her dressed like that, Mikey. Leave her alone for one second and somebody gon' steal her."
The kitchen went a little quieter after that. Marlon's grin faltered. Jackie shot Jermaine a look.
Michael's jaw tightened.
"I'm not soft," he snapped suddenly, voice sharper than before. "And y'all need to stop."
Marlon raised both hands innocently, already laughing again. "Ooh, he mad now."
That did it.
Michael dropped your hand, cheeks flushed deep with embarrassment and irritation, before turning on his heel and storming out of the kitchen without another word. His footsteps disappeared quickly down the hallway.
Your expression immediately fell. "Mikey — come on…"
Usually, the teasing was harmless, mainly done to get a reaction out of Michael more than anything else. And you always reminded him of the same thing: no one could ever steal you away from him. Still, you knew his brothers could be knuckleheads sometimes — and this time they'd pushed too far.
You slowly turned back toward the trio, disappointment written clearly across your face.
"I expected better from y'all," you said firmly, pointing directly at Marlon. "Especially you."
"Aw, c'mon —"
Before Jermaine could even defend himself, you launched the cold water bottle in your hand straight at him.
"That's assault!" Jermaine shouted between laughs, jerking his head out of the way just before the bottle flew past him.
You ignored him completely, already hurrying down the hallway after your poor boyfriend.
A loud bedroom door slam echoed upstairs.
You quickly made your way up the staircase before turning toward his room, a small breath leaving you as you pushed the door open.
Michael was sitting at the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. Visibly upset.
"Mikey…"
He didn't answer at first. The teasing had gotten to him more than usual, stirring up all those quiet insecurities he always tried to bury.
You slowly approached him before stopping directly in front of where he sat. From this angle, you almost towered over him slightly. Gently, you reached down and held his colder cheek in your warmer hand, slowly rubbing circles across it.
"Hey," you said softly. "Talk to me."
Michael let out a frustrated breath. "They always do this."
You brushed your thumb across his cheek. "I know."
His gaze dropped to the floor. For a moment, he seemed unsure whether he wanted to say the next part out loud. Then he did.
"Sometimes I think they're right."
Your heart squeezed. "About what?"
Michael swallowed. "About you being too good for me."
The confession came out so quietly it almost hurt to hear. He let out a shaky breath, shaking his head like he already regretted saying it out loud.
"I mean… I see the way people look at you," he added softly. "You could have anybody. Anyone would be lucky to have you." He swallowed again. "I just… don't know why you picked me."
You immediately shook your head. "Oh, angel face."
His eyes finally lifted to yours.
"Michael, do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?"
A weak laugh escaped him. "I'm serious."
"So am I."
You threaded your fingers through his curls. "You're talented, kind, thoughtful, hardworking, beautiful — and somehow you still act surprised that I love you."
A faint blush spread across his cheeks. You smiled.
"Trust me, pretty boy. If anybody's lucky here, it's me."
The blush deepened immediately. He looked at you for a second longer than before, like he was trying to hold onto what you said.
Then you grinned. "Aaaand…" you continued, giving one of his curls a gentle tug and earning a quiet little huff from him, "you've got this wonderful singing voice, this crazy passion for everything you love, and the foxiest lady completely devoted to you."
"Aaaand…" you teased again as his face turned even redder, "one flash of that smile and I melt like ice cream in the sun."
"Baby…" he groaned, hiding his face in his hands.
You couldn't help but laugh with him, gently straddling his lap. You peeled his hands away from his flushed cheeks and cupped his face with both of yours, thumbs stroking tenderly.
"You're so pretty, Mikey," you murmured, affection thick in your voice. "You're mine… and I'm all yours."
Michael's breath hitched. The frustration in his eyes melted into something warmer, hungrier. He looked up at you like you were God's own gift — sun-kissed and glowing, somehow all his.
"You really mean that?" he whispered, voice low and rough around the edges.
"Every word."
You held his gaze for a moment longer, watching the way he seemed to soften under your words. Then you traced your thumb across his lower lip before slipping it gently into the warmth of his mouth.
He closed his eyes and sucked softly, almost in awe, his tongue brushing the glossy red of your nail. A faint flush rose to his cheeks almost immediately, his breath catching slightly as he looked at you again.
"And you know what, Mikey…?" you continued, voice dropping sweetly.
His lashes fluttered as he met your gaze, still a little dazed, before giving a slow shake of his head.
"I think you've been such a good boy today," you murmured, voice soft and steady. "Taking me to the beach… treating me like I'm heavenly and divine… and being so patient when your brothers tried to rile you up." A small pause. "I think you oughta be rewarded."
A soft hum vibrated against your thumb. You slowly pulled it from his lips with a quiet pop.
Michael let out a shaky exhale, already shifting beneath you like he couldn't wait another second.
You climbed off his lap, and he moved to follow like an eager puppy. Before he could fully stand, you placed a gentle hand on his chest and pushed him back down onto the bed, your fingers splayed warmly over his skin. His breath hitched at the contact.
"Uh uh, not yet, pretty boy," you murmured, smiling down at him. "You gotta watch me undress first."
"O-okay…" he whimpered, eyes wide and hazy with want as he stayed right where you put him.
You slipped off your chunky wooden clogs first, the illusion of being as tall as your boyfriend cracking immediately. Your red-manicured toes — matching your fingers — sank into the soft carpet. Michael watched with parted lips and that same reverent hunger, anticipation curling warmly in his stomach.
You reached behind your neck and untied the thick denim straps of your halter dress, then slowly peeled it down your body. As the fabric slipped over your chest, the cute polka-dot bikini came into view. Michael's breath caught sharply. You saw the way his swim trunks tented, his hand twitching desperately in his lap like he was aching for relief. A quiet, needy sound escaped him as he palmed himself through the thin fabric.
You paused with the dress right above your navel, giving him a teasing little pout.
"Angel… please," he breathed, looking absolutely devastated.
"That wasn't very good, was it, Mikey? I didn't say you could touch."
He could only stare at you in awe, eyes wide and shining with want.
You stepped closer, nearly between his spread knees, then continued sliding the dress down your hips until it pooled at your feet. You bent slowly to step out of it, your chest dipping right into his eye line, the delicate gold "M" pendant gleaming between your breasts in the golden sunlight.
As you straightened up again, you slowly reached behind your back and began untying the bikini top. You were so close to him now, barely inches away — close enough to hear the way he gulped.
No matter how many times you'd been intimate, Michael always reacted like this — like it was the first time he was seeing you bare, like he was falling in love with you all over again right in front of your eyes.
The bikini top slipped from your fingers and landed with a quiet thud on the floor. Michael's eyes were wide, dark with hunger and awe, drinking in the sight of you like you were something sacred.
He reached out with trembling hands, gently grasping the sides of your thighs before pressing his forehead against your stomach, breathing you in like he needed you to survive.
You couldn't help the soft giggle that escaped you. You threaded your fingers through his damp curls, tilting his face up gently.
"Wanna help me with the last piece, pretty boy?" you asked, voice low and sultry.
He looked up at you with the most loving, hungry expression — those big doe eyes full of adoration and want — and nodded almost shyly. "Y-yes," he breathed.
You guided his hands to the ties at your hips. His fingers were shaky with anticipation as he fumbled with the strings, but he eventually managed to pull them loose. The bikini bottoms slid down your legs and pooled at your feet, leaving you completely bare before him.
For a moment, Michael just stared, lips parted, like he couldn't quite believe his luck.
You gave him a soft, teasing smile before turning and walking slowly toward the bathroom, hips swaying gently. You paused at the doorway and glanced back over your shoulder with a playful pout.
"What? Aren't you gonna join me?"
You didn't wait for an answer — just stepped into the bathroom at a light, teasing pace and slipped into the shower, turning the water on and letting the warm spray fill the space with steam.
Behind you, you heard Michael scrambling to his feet, nearly tripping in his hurry. Clothes were shed in a clumsy rush, and then the shower curtain was yanked open. He stepped in without hesitation, pulling you into a hungry kiss the second the water hit his skin.
Your back met the cool tile wall as his body pressed against yours. You could feel how hard he was, flushed and aching, pressed warmly against your stomach. Heat pooled between your thighs at the contact.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling in his wet curls as the hot water cascaded over both of you, drenching your hair and turning your curls into heavy, dripping strands.
Michael moaned softly into your mouth before trailing desperate, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down to your neck, like he couldn't get enough of you.
His hands slid down your body with that familiar mix of shyness and hunger, reverent even now. One slipped between your thighs, and you gasped as his long fingers gently stroked through your folds, teasing with careful devotion.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered against your neck, voice husky and full of awe, barely rising above the rush of water. "So wet already… I can't believe you're mine."
He eased one finger inside you, then another, curling them slowly while his thumb found your clit and began rubbing in gentle, devoted circles. Your hips bucked into his hand, and he let out a soft, shaky breath against your skin, pressing his forehead to your shoulder like he needed the contact to stay grounded.
"It's only you that makes me feel like this, Mikey…" you moaned, voice trembling. "The only ever."
He pulled back just enough to look at you. The warm water had flushed his face a deep rose, droplets clinging to his lashes and tracing luminous paths down his cheeks and jaw. In the soft golden light filtering into the shower, he looked almost ethereal — those wide brown eyes dark with want, his curls plastered wet against his forehead.
A slow, gorgeous smile broke across his face before you pulled him into a desperate kiss.
Every time you got close like this, the shy boy who blushed at the mere thought of intimacy seemed to melt away. In his place was someone bolder, more confident — someone not afraid to use his words and tell you exactly how much he wanted you. It never failed to make your knees weak.
"God, baby… you feel so perfect," he murmured through the kisses as his fingers pumped deeper, steadier. "So warm and tight around my fingers… My beautiful angel. Look at you, taking me so well."
You could only moan into his mouth, biting gently at his lower lip as pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. His thumb circled your clit with more pressure now — steady, relentless — while his fingers curled just right against that perfect spot inside you. The contrast between the quiet, blushing Michael everyone else saw and this version of him, here in the steam and golden light, sent heat flooding through your entire body.
"You're so gorgeous like this," he breathed, voice thick with emotion. "Moaning for me… all mine."
The pleasure built slowly, deliciously, your moans echoing softly against the tiled walls. But right before you tipped over the edge, you reached down and gently grabbed his wrist, stilling his hand.
Michael pulled back, breathing hard, eyes hazy with lust but flickering with that familiar thread of worry. The careful, gentlemanly side of him always surfaced at moments like this.
"Did I do something wrong, baby?" he asked softly, voice rough but tender.
You shook your head, still catching your breath. Without another word, you turned slowly in his arms and pressed your front against the cool tile wall. You arched your back and pushed back against him, feeling his hard cock nestle hot and heavy between your cheeks.
Glancing over your shoulder, voice needy and breathless, you said, "I need you so bad, Mikey… Please fuck me like this. From behind."
You could feel his heart hammering wildly against your back. His wide eyes went even wider — like a deer caught in headlights — surprise and desire warring across his flushed face. Even now, with the water streaming down his body and his obvious need throbbing against you, he hesitated. Always the gentleman, always worried you might feel like you had to do something bolder just for him.
"W-what…?" he stammered, hands settling lightly on your hips as if afraid to grip too tight. "Baby, you don't have to… I mean, if you want me to see your face —"
"Please, baby," you whispered, pushing back against him again, slow and deliberate. "I want you like this. I want to feel you deep."
That finally seemed to sink in. Michael let out a shaky exhale, almost a whimper, his breath warm against your wet shoulder.
"Oh lord… You're gonna be the death of me, pretty lady."
His voice was thick with both awe and lingering shyness, but his hands tightened on your hips with newfound, if still slightly tentative, confidence. A soft giggle escaped you, melting quickly into a moan as the thick head of his cock brushed against your slick folds, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes while his breathing grew heavier against your skin.
Then he finally pushed in — slow, steady, and so deep you moaned into the cool tile. He stilled once he was fully seated, chest pressed flush to your back, clearly fighting for control. The feeling of him buried so deep inside you, stretching and filling you completely, made your head spin.
His hips began to move in deep, rolling thrusts — intimate, controlled, each one pressing right where you needed him most. Every push pulled soft, needy sounds from your throat as the steamy air danced across your bodies and the running water murmured steadily in the background.
All the while, he trailed tender, open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder and the curve of your neck — sweet and worshipful even as his thrusts grew deeper. Like he couldn't stop himself from loving you gently, even in the middle of this.
He angled his hips just right and stroked that sweet, devastating spot inside you again and again. Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.
You were breathless. The words spilled out raw and needy. "Mikey… please," you moaned, pushing back to meet his deep thrusts. "Fill me up… I want you to come inside me."
Michael's rhythm faltered for a moment, a shaky groan leaving him as his lips pressed another lingering kiss to your wet shoulder. You felt his cheeks burn hot against your skin.
"Y-yeah?" he breathed, voice husky and a little shy even as his hips started moving faster, driving deeper with every stroke. The words tumbled out suddenly, unfiltered. "You want me to put a baby in you, angel? Right here?"
He panicked for half a second after saying it — but your frantic nod chased the worry away.
"Please… I want it. I want you to fill me up."
He cursed softly under his breath — a rare, rough sound that sent chills racing down your spine. You'd never heard anything like that from his mouth before. He buried his face in your neck, trailing more kisses there as his thrusts grew more desperate, deep and purposeful, like he was determined to give you exactly what you'd asked for.
His hands tightened on your waist, one sliding down over your stomach and up the front of your body before carefully, gently pressing against your throat — not squeezing, just holding you close and steady. The other wandered lower, finding your clit and rubbing fast but controlled circles against your sensitive nub.
"Then take it, sweetheart," he whispered hotly against your ear between kisses, trembling. "Take everything I give you…"
The bold words, the steady deep rhythm of him pumping inside you, his skilled fingers, and those sweet lingering kisses along your shoulder all combined to pull loud moans from your throat. You couldn't hold them back, and neither of you cared if the rest of the house could hear. Secretly, Michael seemed to like it — the way you fell apart so loudly for him, proof that only he could make you feel like this.
Pleasure crashed over you first, deep and shuddering. Your body tightened around him as you moaned his name, waves of it rolling through you. Michael followed right after with a broken, shy groan, pressing as deep as he could go while he spilled inside you, giving you everything you'd begged for. He held you close, trembling against your back, still pressing soft kisses to your shoulder as the water continued to rain down warmly over you both.
After a long, hazy moment, he eased out of you carefully and turned you in his arms, pulling you against his wet chest. His chin rested on top of your head while his big hands stroked slow, sweet circles down your back.
"You okay, angel face?" he asked gently, voice hoarse and full of tender concern.
"More than okay," you whispered, smiling against his skin.
He pulled you into a tighter hug, holding you like you were something precious, then kissed you softly. One hand came up to stroke your cheek in gentle circles. His eyes met yours, warm and full of quiet wonder.
"I love you so much, my sweet girl."
You grinned up at him. "I love you, pretty boy."
You both laughed softly, the sound echoing lightly in the steamy shower. The mood shifted back to something sweet and playful as you continued washing each other — rubbing shampoo into his curls, him carefully running soapy hands over your sun-kissed skin, gently rinsing away the last traces of the beach day.
Before long, you couldn't resist. "I don't think you're gonna be hearing any more teasing or flirting from them for a long time now."
Michael let out an embarrassed laugh, cheeks burning hot again as understanding dawned. "Oh god…"
You just smiled back at him with a big grin, feeling warm and content.
This really had been one of the best days in a long while.
synopsis: reader gives jaafar a handjob (and edges him :p)
cw: smut, sub!jaafar, maybe switch!jaafar if u squint?, edging, handjob, teasing
ib: @prettyangeliczz
guys this is like my first ever post/fic so like...be nice pls
rain pattered softly against the apartment windows while the tv played quietly in the background, long forgotten by now.
you were sprawled on top of jaafar on the couch, your head resting against his chest while one of his arms stayed wrapped loosely around your waist. his other hand traced absentminded patterns up and down your back, fingertips warm through the thin fabric of your white tank top.
he looked so good like this.
grey sweats hung low on his hips, the fabric bunched slightly where your legs tangled with his. his black shirt clung to him just enough to outline the shape of his arms and shoulders, sleeves stretched snug around his biceps every time he shifted beneath you.
your fingers drew lazy circles against the middle of his chest while you looked up at him quietly, observing his features.
the tiny mole above his eyebrow.
his lashes resting low against his cheeks every time he blinked sleepily.
the curve of his jaw.
his lips.
god, his lips.
jaafar looked relaxed in a way he only ever did around you. hair messy, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth of the apartment, eyes half-lidded while he played with the hem of your tank top absentmindedly.
you didn’t even realize how long you’d been staring until his gaze finally dropped to yours.
a slow smile pulled at his mouth.
“you’re staring.”
you hummed softly, still looking at him. “you’re pretty.”
his entire face changed immediately.
a blush spread across his cheeks so fast it almost made you laugh, and he let out a quiet groan before dropping his head back dramatically against the couch cushion.
“stop.”
“it’s true.”
“you say it like every day.”
“‘cause every day i look at you and think ‘he’s so pretty.’”
“baby,” he mumbled, embarrassed now, one hand sliding up to cover part of his face.
you grinned and pulled his hand away gently, intertwining your fingers with his before leaning up to kiss him.
it started soft.
slow.
jaafar kissed you like he was sleepy and addicted to you at the same time, lips warm and lingering against yours while his grip tightened unconsciously at your waist. your hand slid higher up his chest, fingertips brushing over the fabric stretched across him, while your other hand settled along his jaw and neck.
his hands moved instinctively up your back, fingertips pressing into your skin beneath your tank top. the other drifted lower, resting just above your ass while he kissed you deeper, slower.
needier.
you shifted slightly closer against him without thinking.
jaafar inhaled sharply.
the movement dragged you right against him through the fabric of both your sweats, and a low groan slipped from his throat before he could stop it.
your lips curved instantly against his.
the second he realized the sound he made, his cheeks burned again. he let out a breathy laugh under his breath and buried his face against your shoulder like he was suddenly shy about how affected he’d gotten.
“you okay?” you teased softly.
“no,” he muttered into your skin.
you laughed quietly, fingers slipping into his curls again. you smiled softly, brushing your nose against his temple. “you’re cute.”
he lifted his head just enough to look at you again, all flushed cheeks and messy curls and swollen lips from kissing you. he looked completely wrecked already.
just from this.
your thumb brushed lightly over his jaw while you watched his expression soften under your touch.
“don’t start,” he murmured, though there was no real complaint behind it.
his eyes dropped immediately to your lips.
then he kissed you.
hard.
the sound you made got swallowed by his mouth as his hands slid firmly to your hips, pulling you down against him again. your bodies fit together too perfectly like this, warm and tangled together on the couch.
you shifted experimentally against him.
jaafar groaned low into the kiss.
his grip tightened instinctively, fingers digging into your hips while he guided your movements without even thinking about it now. slow at first. then, a little rougher when another soft moan slipped from your mouth.
“fuck,” he breathed quietly against your lips.
you could already feel how affected he was through the fabric of his sweats. the way he reacted to every little thing you did was addictive.
your kisses drifted from his mouth to his jaw, then lower to his neck while he tipped his head back against the couch for you. a shaky breath left him the second your lips brushed against the sensitive skin there.
his hands stayed locked on your hips, still guiding you against him steadily while soft sounds kept slipping from both of you.
“baby,” he whispered, voice rough now.
you hummed innocently against his neck before kissing lower, down the center of his chest. your fingers trailed after your lips slowly, dragging over the fabric stretched across his stomach and pushing his shirt up slightly, before settling near the waistband of his sweats.
jaafar’s stomach tensed beneath your touch.
his eyes stayed glued to you while you toyed with the edge of the waistband, fingertips dipping the fabric down. his black boxers did very little to hide the outline straining beneath them, the dark fabric already damp where precum had started to leak through.
it was truly unfair.
jaafar already had the face, the body, the personality– and was this big too.
thick, flushed, fully hard beneath the fabric, and twitching slightly when your hand draws close.
a soft curse slipped under his breath.
you swallowed hard.
god, he was so fucking fine.
you peeled his boxers down next, trying to keep your expression composed even while your stomach tightened at the sight of him. the second the fabric cleared him completely, his dick sprang free against his stomach, twitching once as more precum gathered at the tip.
your hand wrapped around him gently.
the hiss he let out made heat rush straight between your legs.
you stroked him once.
twice.
then stopped.
“baby,” Jaafar groaned, head tipping back against the couch before his eyes dropped to your hand again.
you ignored him entirely and started moving again, slower this time. deliberate. your hand barely twisted as you stroked him, just enough pressure to make his breathing start breaking apart.
his hips pushed forward unconsciously, trying to chase more friction.
you let go.
his eyes snapped shut.
“you’re killing me,” he breathed out, voice rough and wrecked in a way that made your stomach flip.
you smiled sweetly. “aw, baby. I’m sorry.”
jaafar let out a short, strained laugh under his breath at your tone, one hand dragging down his face before falling back limply on the cushion below him.
you were going to be the death of him.
you wrapped your hand around him again before he could say anything else, stroking him a little faster this time. a soft sigh slipped from him instantly, his lips parting while his head fell back.
“you’re so hard, j,” you teased quietly.
his eyes snap to yours, fully aware now that you were teasing him on purpose.
usually, he was the one doing this to you– teasing you until you were squirming in his lap, until you were whining into his neck and begging him for more while he took his sweet time giving it to you. and when he finally fucked you, he never let up until you were completely gone for him.
now the roles were reversed.
you could practically see the moment he started connecting the dots.
in all honesty, you hadn’t even planned on teasing him like this. but the way he reacted to every little thing you did kept giving you new ideas, making you improvise as you went.
jaafar ignored the comment at first, jaw tightening slightly like he was trying not to give you the satisfaction.
so naturally, you pushed further.
as your hand slid back up his cock, your thumb brushed slowly over the slit at the tip.
jaafar’s hips jerked sharply off the couch, and a whine slipped out before he could stop it.
the sound punched straight through you.
his head fell back against the couch, throat exposed, chest rising unevenly, while both hands gripped tightly onto the cushion beneath him. you watched his jaw flex, watched the muscles in his stomach tense every single time your thumb brushed over that sensitive spot again.
and every single time, he reacted just as hard.
a sharp inhale.
a curse muttered beneath his breath.
his fingered drumming once against the cushion before curling tighter into it again.
his dick was twitching harder in your hand, leaking steadily enough that your strokes had turned slick.
his moans had also become more consistent.
a telltale sign he was getting close.
you brought your other hand up slowly, twisting both hands around him now as you stroked him more firmly.
jaafar bit down hard on his lower lip, clearly trying to contain the noises leaving him and failing miserably.
the second his hips started lifting more insistently into your hands, and his grip tightened sharply against the couch cushion, muscles flexing beneath your touch–
you let go again.
jaafar whined, hips jerking helplessly upward as he searched for your hands again. for friction. for anything
“no, no, no–”
his hands flew down instinctively, reaching for himself, and you caught his wrists before he could touch himself properly, laughing softly at his genuinely offended look that flashed across his face.
“baby,” he groaned, frustrated now.
you shifted quickly before he could recover, moving until you were straddling his hips beneath him to keep him from bucking upward properly.
jaafar dropped his head back against the couch with a curse, chest heaving while his hands landed uselessly at your waist instead.
“you’re mean,” he muttered breathlessly.
you tried to hold back your smile for maybe half a second before leaning down toward him, peppering soft apologetic kisses across his face. the corner of his mouth. his cheek. the little mole above his eyebrow. his jaw.
jaafar exhaled shakily through his nose at that, eyes fluttering shut for a second while his hands settled more firmly against your body.
“there,” you whispered against his skin. “better?”
his head shook weakly enough to make you laugh quietly.
your hand slid back down him, fingers wrapping around him again while your lips hovered near his. his dick twitching in your hand as another strained breath left him.
one hand slid up the outside of your thigh before settling firmly on your ass, squeezing once through the fabric of your sweats. the other slipped beneath your tank top, warm palm spreading against your bare skin before moving higher until he was cradling your chest in his hand.
you sighed softly at the touch, the sound mixing with the uneven breaths leaving jaafar’s mouth as you continued stroking him.
he was unraveling faster now.
the teasing from earlier had left him sensitive enough that every movement pulled a reaction from him immediately. his groans had turned rough and consistent, slipping out every few seconds while his head rested back against the couch.
he breathed out your name shakily.
your hand twisted slightly around him again and jaafar cursed under his breath, grip tightening hard enough against your body to almost keep you still. his stomach flexed beneath you while his hips fought the urge to jerk upward again.
“so sensitive now,” you murmured teasingly.
“it’s your fault,” he shot back instantly, though the words came out strained around another groan.
you smiled against his jaw, still stroking him steadily while his breathing grew more uneven by the second. his dick kept twitching in your hand, leaking enough now that your strokes had turned slick and easy.
jaafar’s composure was hanging by a thread.
you could tell by the way his thighs kept tensing beneath you.
by the way his fingers dug into your skin every few seconds.
by the fact that he’d stopped trying to hide his noises entirely.
“fuck, baby,” he breathed, his eyes squeezed shut.
then your thumb brushed over the tip again.
his body jerked.
a low sound tore from him as his grip tightened sharply on your ass, the hand beneath your tank top flexing against your chest at the same time.
“oh my god,” he groaned, eyes squeezing shut. “don’t do that—”
you did it again anyway.
and again.
and again.
a higher moan slipped out of him this time, his head dropping back down against your shoulder as he shuddered into you. the sound alone sent heat rushing straight through you, your stomach tightening at how completely wrecked he sounded.
your hand picked up the pace slightly, enough to make jaafar’s hips start jerking upward again before you pulled away all at once.
his entire body jolted.
“baby–” the word came out broken.
jaafar’s hands tightened desperately against you while his breathing fell apart completely, little tremors running through him from how close he’d been.
“please,” he breathed, voice rough and wrecked. “please, baby, let me cum,”
“i was so fucking close,” he whined, “fuck, please.”
and how were you supposed to deny him after that?
You leaned down to kiss him softly, and jaafar melted into it instantly, kissing you back like he needed it. your hand wrapped around him again, stroking him steadily this time.
he broke the kiss with a moan, eyes fluttering shut while his brows furrowed deeply.
“you’re doing so good, jaafar,” you whispered against his mouth.
a shaky breath left him.
“c’mon, baby. you wanna cum, don’t you?”
he nodded quickly, too needy to pretend otherwise.
“look at me.”
his eyes opened slowly, gaze locking onto yours before drifting lower, watching where your hand moved against him.
the sight alone dragged another helpless sound from him.
his hips stuttered upward into your hand while his grip tightened hard against your waist.
“don’t stop,” he breathed quickly. “don’t stop, don’t–”
you kept your pace steady, watching him come apart beneath you piece by piece, broken curses slipping from him between uneven breaths.
“fuck–fuck, baby,” he whimpered. his entire body tensed suddenly, hands gripping you tighter as he buried his face against your shoulder with a low groan.
you smiled softly, leaning down to kiss his cheek while he caught his breath shakily against your skin.
“such a pretty boy,” you murmured
jaafar let out another shaky breath, still breathing hard as you started shifting off him.
his hands gripped your hips immediately.
you looked back at him and your stomach dropped.
the wrecked look on his face was gone now. he still looked flushed and messy, but his eyes–
his eyes had sharpened, fixed on you with that look that made heat crawl up your spine instantly.
he pulled you back against him.
“you had your fun?” he asked quietly.
the calmness in his voice was terrifying.
a slow small smile tugged at his mouth when you didn’t answer right away.
“yeah,” he murmured. “that’s what i thought.”
before you could say anything, he stood, lifting you with him effortlessly. a surprised gasp left you as your legs wrapped around his waist automatically.
jaafar’s hand slid up your thigh as he carried you toward the bedroom.
yeah. you were done for.
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
hi lol .. this was kinda fun to write so i think i might start writing more !
lmk if this stinks or if u have any reqs or anything :DD
synopsis: you’re needy, but luckily your boyfriend is eager to please.
warnings: 18+ mdni, LOL basically all my favourite things: princess treatment, making out, dryhumping, and oral (f receiving)
“You’re eager today, aren’t you baby?” Jaafar muses into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he speaks. “Missed me?”
The room smells soft, like rose petals and moonlight. You feel warmth all around you, and the pale strip of light shining through your window blurs into nothingness as you continue your syrupy slow back and forth movements.
“Ye— yes,” you breathe pathetically. You can feel the desperate glide of his tongue on your skin, as if he’s trying to lap up the oils of your perfume, right before his plush lips suck faint purple marks all over your neck. “So much, I can’t think straight.”
That makes him release a low chuckle, momentarily deattaching himself from your neck — “My sweet baby.” — before connecting his lips to yours. And you can feel his wandering hands— travelling all over your hips, your lower back, thick fingers slightly teasing the elastic band of your shorts as he slowly moves his hips in tandem with yours. “Look at you, all pretty f’me.”
It drives you crazy, how perfect Jaafar is. The sweetest and most tender man on the planet. And he’s all yours, you realise. He’s all for you. The praise of his words shoot straight to your head.
The desperate tension in the room swirls in the air. His lips feel like a warm wave of pleasure to yours, and you can’t help but let out a small whimper as your boyfriend continues to pepper light kisses all over your neck and collarbones, carding your fingers through his curls.
You keep on writhing against his chest— you feel him harden beneath you. “Easy, baby. Let me fix it.” He whispers. A heavy, yet gentle hand pushes your rocking hips down to his clothed length, fingers now resting on the sliver of bare skin between your shorts and top, and Jaafar’s sure you feel hot. Needy. Eager. Seeking relief, after not seeing him for days.
“Let me help my pretty baby.” He says to himself, like a promise. You can’t do anything but nod. You don’t want to do anything else, if you have to be honest with yourself. You know you’re in good hands with him. “I— please.” You manage to murmur quietly, breathily.
“D’awwh,” he breathes against your skin. The tension crackles in the air. It’s thick, heavy and yet, you feel so at home with Jaafar’s arms around you, wandering hands resting on your ass. “Y’just need me to take care of you?” He asks lazily, along with a little teasing hint and a surge of pride evident in the way he smiles against the sensitive skin of your neck.
The need within you simmers. It grows silently, like a tingle evolving into a wet pulse in your core as you allow Jaafar to kiss your stress away. He feels like a furnace against you. He’s everything you have ever wanted: stable, present, steady. His skin is soft like a pillow and if you weren’t as needy as you are now, you would fall asleep against his chest.
Just the fact that he thinks you’re cute and perfect for him makes the pressure pulse heavier. “I feel so lucky,” your boyfriend pants between kisses. Those warm hands travel to your waist, where he moves your body back and forth over the growing tent in his shorts. “You’re too good f’me, I swear.”
The air in the room is starting to get clammy. You can already feel the shy drip of wetness gather on your panties while Jaafar keeps on dragging you over his prominent length. The delicious friction of your panties and the jersey fabric of Jaafar’s shorts against your clit makes you lightheaded, and you can’t help but release small mewls every time the lace drags over your pulsing entrance just right.
You look down at where the two of you rub against each other, and God if that sight doesn’t end you right then and there. “Fuck, you—” your boyfriend pants, unable to finish his sentence, “let me taste you, yeah?” His eyes are wide and blazen in pleasure, fingers already thumbing the hem of your shorts down.
You don’t think twice. “Yes, oh my— please.” you whimper out pathetically, finally feeling freed from your own restraint. You don’t care about how vulnerable you sound. You don’t care because everything feels good with him. Easy. Comfortable.
He brackets his hand around your scalp as he settles you down on the soft duvet and peels off your shorts. “I’ve been waiting for this all day,” he tells you earnestly, making his way down your body, slotting his shoulders between your open thighs, never breaking eye contact. “Wondering when I could spoil my girl.”
A small moan bubbles out of you when he snaps the elastic band of your panties against your skin. He’s taking way too long. Out of desperation, your hands sneak into his hair. “Please, touch me.”
A knowing smile appears on Jaafar’s mouth at just seeing you so undone, desperate for relief, begging him to go down on you like he’s your only salvation. He looks at you in a way you’ve never been looked at before: wanted. Important. Desired.
“When have I ever been able to say no to you, baby?”
And with careful precision, your boyfriend peels off the last piece of fabric that separates your pussy from him. His soft, wet mouth immediately latches onto you like it’s a habit, a magnet.
The drag of his tongue between your walls is slow, sleepy and filthy. The desire in your core keeps pulsating, heavier and stronger with each brush of his lips against your clit. It’s almost like a heartbeat that drives you mad. “Can’t stand seeing y’unsatisfied.” your boyfriend manages to mumble out while his face is buried between your legs.
Between heavy breaths and languid licks between your walls, he manages to draw tight circles to your clit. His other free hand is wrapped around your thigh. “Makes me want to spoil you. Never have to lift a finger w’me, y’know that?”
You can’t find the energy to respond to him. The delve of his tongue inside your spongey entrance, the warmth of his breath coating your thighs — it’s all too much. But it’s just the way you like it, and your boyfriend knows that too. You spend minutes grinding yourself against his waiting tongue. The grip you have on his hair almost functioning like a rein.
When your fingers lose their hold on his hair, Jaafar is quick to lead your hand back to his head. “Keep it there, sweetheart,” he orders between pants. “Love it when you do that.”
He continues to eat you out, albeit sloppily. Wet squelches of his tongue continually prodding at your hole ricochet off the walls like an echo, and you can feel the spark low in your core start to build up. “J, I—” your voice is tiny as it cracks from desperation. “I’m so close.” Your cunt flutters around the wet muscle of his tongue.
You sound wound up, and it spurs Jaafar on to keep doing what he does. “Please,” he begs back between dips of his tongue and gentle nips, “You’re doing so good, baby. Show me how—”
He doesn’t get much further. Your whole body lights up, muscles pulled taut. Jaafar’s sentence is cut off by a broken moan, and your entrance keeps gushing out the sweetest essence he has ever tasted. He moves his tongue through it, never letting up. Your breaths are heavy and pitchy and a little skittish as you finally come down from your high, chest rising and falling with deep inhales of oxygen.
Your thighs are still shaking when you try to sit up, and he sits up with you, seemingly more in love with you than before. One hand stays on one of your trembling thighs, keeping you still. He presses a lingering kiss to your lips. “Better, baby?”
You nod back with a lovesick smile, all satisfied and happy, eyes flicking down to the problem he has to deal with now. The drowsy, sleepy tone in your voice from before can’t be heard when you say, “you need some help with that?”
Jaafar flashes you a grin: he knows what you’re talking about. He’s never the one to push you to do something you don’t want, but tonight, you want to take a different route. His grin is boyish and somewhat wicked, dimples appearing on his face.
“When have I ever been able to say no to you?”
a/n: i actually headcanon that he likes to lick THROUGH the panties but that on its own is a whole other one-shot i fear
synopsis: michael loves pleasing you so much he has to record it for his future self to enjoy too!
warnings: sexual themes, smut, 18+
Click!
And you froze.
The faintest giggle from Michael’s mouth brought you up for air — disconnecting your swollen lips from his own.
You, as Michael’s long-term girl, knew that he was a troublemaker at times — often pulling silly stunts to get a rise out of you and make you laugh. But, rather, in this sense, make himself laugh.
But this, was definitely a new one.
“Mike, what is that?”
Michael sported a childish grin — the corners of his lips tugging each side as he fought to suppress it.
“A camera.”
“I can see that, honey, but what’s it doing out while we’re kissin’?” Your tone had Michael pulling his bottom lip between his lips.
“Wanted to try somethin’.” He revealed, his voice soft and sweet despite the sensual undertone.
You’d barely been situated in Michael’s lap five minutes, lips moving feverishly against his own, anticipating some intimacy with your man, before the clicking of the Sony Handycam CCD-M8U you bought him for his birthday started a recording.
“Come on, baby, keep goin’.” He whispered — behaving like a producer backstage of a performance, using hushed tones to support you with your next act.
You shook your head in protest — lips parting to tell him to turn that damn thing off. But, it was Michael’s way or no way. He perched up from slightly beneath you, capturing your lips again on his own. You could sense the camera on you as Michael slid his eager tongue into your mouth — the wet muscle exploring yours as his right hand levitated in the air, capturing every second of your private moment. His spare hand slid up the centre of your spine, fingers tips tracing the dip, pushing you closer to his chest.
“Michael, turn it of—“ “Shh, just let it happen, doll.”
His muffled dismissal against your lips had you huffing into his — giving up fighting him. Luckily for Michael, you soon forgot about his little friend in the air — your enclosed lip-locking becoming increasingly more heated as time pursed. Your hips ground against his own involuntarily, muscle memory kicking in from your many previous sensual encounters, eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat. Michael hummed into your mouth at the sound of your first pretty noise of the night — the excitement of his future self watching the tape back and watching your neediness increase in real time had him buzzing.
Michael bucked his hips up to meet yours halfway — a genuine whine of desperation leaving your mouth against his own, still locked in a ferocious kiss. Your hands encased his flushed cheeks, holding him dearly close to you, your whines blossoming into authentic moans of pleasure as your throbbingly touch-starved clit nudged against the painfully obvious bulge in his slacks.
Your lips left Michael’s in a frantic, needy frenzy — planting hot, open-mouthed kisses to his jawline, lips dragging along the spectacularly chiseled bone, smothering the skin in your mauve lipstick. Before following his anatomy and furthering your pout down his neck, licking a tentative stripe down the slope.
Michael shuddered under your brutal teasing, hands twitching around the camera ever so slightly. He peered up at it, ensuring he was capturing you in the perfect way.
“Gosh, baby, y’look so pretty like that.” Michael breathed, titling his head back to allow you to expand your surface area of tentative licks, “Kissin’ all on me like that.”
At this point, all the sense you had to smack that camera out of Michael’s hand had long left your head. Now, all you were interested in was pressing hot kisses down Michael’s chest, shoving the loose shirt off his torso to give yourself more room to worship his body with your mouth.
Above you, Michael had managed to shift the camera angle down, now holding the painfully obvious equipment with two hands, resting on his heaving chest — angling it just right to show your arched frame moving down his body, lipstick marks forming on his glossed skin. Your manicured hands reached the waistband of his slacks before peering your head up from his crotch, eyeing him seriously, as if to say put that thing away now.
“Please?” His pleading, slightly whiny voice had any form of judgment you’d once obtained now ten feet out the window as his eyes sparkled above you — lip threatening to fall into a pout as the camera taped you rolling your eyes before unbuckling his trousers, shoving them down his thighs. Michael grinned excitedly as you pressed your chest close to the aching bulge in his boxers.
“Wow, you really do like that camera, huh?” You teased, tracing a calculated finger down the ridge of his hard cock.
Michael hissed at the sudden, feather-light touch, knuckles going white around said tech, lip being gnawed by his pearly whites at the sight of you between legs.
“Quit teasin’.” He spoke shyly, his eyes flicking between the screen and your in-person frame, an anticipatory smile on his face.
Usually, Michael would dislike it when you suck his dick — believing his lady should be pleasured and looked after, not made to strain herself for only his gain. But, he knew how you secretly enjoyed having your throat stuffed full, rendering completely at your mercy, so every once in a while, he’d allow it.
That and you looked so pretty with his cock in your mouth.
Especially on camera.
So, when your lips wrapped around the flushed head of his proud cock, Michael didn’t know whether to focus on making sure every second of this was caught on video, or the feeling of intense delight you were succumbing him to. You suckled the tip just how he liked, his salty, yet equally delicious, pre-cum flooding your taste buds, relishing in the way the perfect dip in his eyebrows adorned his face — he was crumbling.
“S-Shit, sweetheart, doin’ so good.” He panted, thighs tensing against your hands as you steadied yourself on the meaty muscle.
You slid him deeper, tongue dancing over the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft, while your pretty fingers wrapped around the base, pumping him slowly in beat with your eager mouth. Michael watched you like a hawk — heart thumping in his chest so hard he was certain the tachycardia was going to send him into cardiac arrest at the way your seductive, doe eyes fluttered up at him through your lashes.
“Oh, Lord.” He heaved, head falling back against the pillow as the head of his swollen manhood punched the back of your throat — a loud gag of rejection sounding out into the room.
Michael secretly adored when you did that.
In his trance of lust, the camera slipped from his grasp, sliding down his side, leaving his hands free to slither down and cradle your face. You noticed.
“Ah, ah, ah!” You teased, pulling off his cock with a pop, saliva connecting you even in disengagement, “Thought you wanted it filmin’, angelface?”
Michael whined, trembling hands leaving your face to pull the camera back into his possession — focusing the lense to put you back into shot. Michael’s breath hitched at the sight — even on the choppy, blurry screen, your blown out pupils, tear-streaked, flushed red cheeks and swollen lips glossed with spit and his pre-cum had him twitching in your hand as you pumped him slowly.
“Look so fuckin’ good, girl.” He admitted, furrowed eyebrows hidden between the large hunk of plastic as he watched through it, “Can’t wait to watch this later.”
You laughed, pressing a kiss to the head, collecting the pre-cum that dribbled down him with the tip of your tongue, smiling at the way Michael whined, “Oh, you dirty dog, Michael Jackson.”
Michael chuckled cheekily, “Come up here, wanna feel you.”
Obeying his orders, you let his hardened cock fall against his tensed abdomen, climbing up him once more. Your hips settled either side of him against, clothed pussy lips now hugging the thickness of his cock through your soaked panties.
“Well, would you look at that?” He started, a teasing finger coming down to toy with your damp underwear, a whine leaving your lips at the tentative touches, “Looks like you’re enjoying this after all, hm?”
You failed to reply — words catching in your throat as his finger traced the outline of your aching clit through the thin material, your lips parting at the sheer sensuality of his touch.
“Where’s that teasin’ girl gone, hm? Cat got your tongue, mama?”
“Michael.” Your voice a whiny, needy plea of despair.
“What, baby? Talk to me. Tell me whatcha’ need.” He coaxed, his tone a gentle dominant force that your mouth rambling to answer, to please.
You whined, hips rolling against the hard of his cock, rubbing alongside the pad of his finger that remained flat against your nub, “Plea—please, need it—need to feel you.”
Michael’s hand, steadily holding the camera, angled it perfectly to show your needy pussy humping his cock, as well as the eyebrows knitted in lust on your pretty little face — his cock twitching at the thought of fucking his hand to the recording later.
Michael tapped your hip, demanding you lift your hips to have access to your drooling cunt. He peeled the drenched cotton panties from your puffy pussy lips, tucking them to the side of your vulva. With practiced ease, Michael slid an expert finger between the slickness of your cunt — collecting the sweet essence of your arousal on his digits. With methodical swiftness, a long finger of Michael’s slipped into the clenching hole which needed him most.
“Mmh, such a pretty pussy, doll. Got all wet just for me?”
Michael knew the answer, he just loved to hear you say it. Loved to hear you admit in your drunken state of ecstasy that he was the one to make you slick with arousal. Michael’s fingers moved with excellence you were stunned by each and every time — the relentless abuse against the sweet, spongy spot inside you that had you crying out, tears jerking from your ears at the sheer force of the sensation.
“Ooh, there she go,” He whispered, the ball of his hand coming up to roll against the excluded nub that was screaming for touch, a move that had you sobbing, “That’s the spot, huh, ma? So good it got you cryin’ f’me, hm?”
His name left your swollen, cum-stained lips in a wretched sob, nails digging into the flex of his bicep, gripping on for dear life as you fucked yourself onto his hand.
“Y-Yes! Yes—o-ah! Yes, God, Mike—gonna cum!”
Michael could’ve laughed at the way your face dropped in sheer disbelief as he pulled his hand away from your sopping cunt after your confession of near climax. Your chest heaved, clit throbbing as your eyes welled up, pulling on Michael’s heartstrings.
“Oh, sweet girl.” He laughed, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your pouting lips, “Need you to cum around my cock, babygirl, yeah? Can you do that for me, pretty lady?”
You nodded meekly, bottom lip still jutted out in protest as Michael guided his cock between your shaking legs. Just as his burning hot tip slid into the familiar, wet comforts of your hole — your disappointed pout fell into a gasp of relief.
Michael laughed, his free hand coming to pull on your bottom lip, cock slipping further inside you, “Don’t want this out again, you hear me? No poutin’ girls around here.”
You nodded feverishly — not ever wanting to disobey him, in fear he’d take away the one thing that’s fulfilling the desire that burned fiercely inside you, as he stretched you open, inch by inch. The camera, still rolling, captured all of this — the way each inch of his cock disappeared slowly, your pretty pussy lips wrapped around his shaft, your slick drooling around him.
You whined, feeling impossibly full as he bottomed out, seating you fully down onto his pelvis. His own bottom lip was sucked in between his teeth, admiring the sight of your perfect frame on top of him.
“Oh, I bet you’re so full, huh, baby? Usually don’t let y’ride me first — can feel that pussy throbbing.” He confessed, laughing softly as you whimpered, his free hand slithering up your bared body — making sure to record his hand palming your tits through your lacy bra.
Michael wasted no time pulling the material off your body, reaching behind you to flick the fastener apart one-handed — watching as the bra fell from your chest, your perky tits on full display to him, and the camera, of course. His teasing fingers crawled up you, grabbing a gentle handful of your right breast, humming at the feeling of the soft skin and the sound of your desperate moan. You shuffled around him — wincing at the feeling of his perfectly curved cock nudging your quivering walls, awaiting the approval to start moving.
No matter what you were doing — Michael was always in control.
Michael moved his hand to roll your erect nipple in between his nimble fingers, “Go’head, girl, show me how much you need it.”
You didn’t wait for him to change his mind, not that he would with the way you were clenching eagerly around him, lifting your hips off him, about half-way, before slamming back down. Your head fell back instinctively, a cry of sheer joy slipping from your lips, only encouraging Michael to throb inside you.
“Come on, sweetheart, falling apart after one bounce? Can do better than that.” He teased, smirking at the way you bit your lip shyly, suddenly embarrassed at how much effect he had over you.
Your hips rose again — now bouncing with the help of Michael’s tight grip on your hip, pulling you up and down on him. You whined, cheeks flushed in timidity as he hummed behind the screen.
“Oh, that’s the fuckin’ money shot, girl. My baby’s a natural. Look at that pussy—fuck, yeah, doll, keep goin’.”
Michael’s words of encouragement had you crying out — moaning in pure lust as his cock continued to relentlessly nudge against the best spot inside you, one he never failed to hit each time. Michael’s hand cradled your hips dominantly, grinding you down with each movement, rubbing your clit onto his neatly groomed pubic bone, failing to hide the smirk that crept onto his face at the sound of your needy noises.
“That’s it — let me hear you, darling.”
“Mike.” You whined, hand coming up to grabs handful of your tits and the other holding yourself up on his chest, slick with sweat. Michael’s eyes could’ve popped out of his head at the sight of you — seductively playing with your perky breasts, nipples rolling between your fingers like he once did, head thrown back, mouth agape letting your slutty moans fall upon his perked up ears.
Now, this was the shot.
Michael couldn’t wait another moment. Throwing the camera down on the bed, he lifted you up with both strong hands, pulling you off his slicked cock, and laying you down gently on the bed with ease.
“Mikey.” You whinged, “Please.”
“I know, sweet thing, ‘m coming back, don’t worry that pretty little head.” He reassured, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.
Michael slid you onto your side with ease, one shaking leg laying over the other, revealing your swollen cunt. He slid a soft hand over your skin, squeezing the plush of your ass, humming at the sight of you beneath him. He picked up the discarded camera once more, pointing it down at you once more.
“Now, this,” He started, “is the perfect position for when my baby’s gettin’ recorded. Y’know why, sweet girl?” He spoke, sliding the flushed head of his cock between your drooling folds, ignoring the way you whined loudly, peering up at him as if to beg him to shut up and just fuck you, “Because I can see this perfect ass, cute lil’ waist, beautiful titties, and most importantly,” He complimented cheekily, free hand sliding over each body part as he listed them, before gripping your chin between his index finger and thumb, “This pretty little face makin’ the cutest faces while I fuck her needy little pussy.”
Michael entered you in one swift motion — the cutest faces he was referring to filling your expression, a loud cry leaving your lips. His name fell from your mouth like a prayer, a chant, as he rocked into you deeply — his cock-end nudging your cervix each time, sending you clawing at the bedsheets. Pleased with himself, Michael smiled behind the camera once more, angling it down perfectly to capture every aspect of you he listed — tits bouncing, ass recoiling against his abdomen, face contorted into pleasure and his cock sliding in and out of your raw cunt, a white, milky ring forming around the base of him.
Michael was in heaven — knowing this video wouldn’t be your last as he watched you through the small screen, hand now clawing at his flexed arm, nails digging into the skin as he filled you.
“Michael, Michael!—fuck, Mike, please, God, fuc—“
“Hmm, that’s right, dollface, tell me all about it. Feelin’ good?”
You whined desperately, clit throbbing against his free hand that had slithered between your sweating bodies to rub tight, practiced circled onto the aching nub, “Gonna fuckin’ cum, Mikey, please, don’t sto—ah!”
“Wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweet girl,” He admitted, leaning down, not caring about the camera angle, as he pressed soft kisses to your face, some landing on your parted lips, now only bothered about your pleasure, “Cum around me, baby, wanna feel it.”
The nearing peak of your orgasm crawled down your body, nestling in your abdomen, body slowly igniting in fierce heat. The sheer explicitness of the intimate moment had adrenaline and lust pumping through your veins. Your trembling hand reached across the bed, taking a hold of the camera once more, holding it out for him.
“Want it to see you fill me up wit—ah!—with your cum, Mikey, please.”
“Oh, fuck.”
Your provocative declaration had him frantic — doubling over, one hand on the bed, the other steadying the camera, fucking you twice as fast. Your cries only getting louder as he pounded the sweet spot inside you over and over again, his name being screamed so loud you were certain the whole house could hear.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah—there! ‘M there!”
You orgasmed with a cry so loud it had Michael cursing under his breath at the eroticism — revelling in the way your cunt squeezed him, sucking him in further as you came around him, nails dragging down his tensed back.
Michael wasn’t far behind you, fighting every urge in him to throw the camera away and fuck his seed so far into you that you’d be swollen with him for days, but holding it firmly in his grasp, recording just how sweetly your cunt milked him for everything he had to offer, your slickness pooling beneath you. He, though, forced himself as deep into you as he could go — making sure the camera picked up on his your cunt accommodated the sheer size of him, his milky white cum now frothing around the base of his softening cock.
He slowly pulled himself out of you with a wince, “Hold still for me, babygirl.” He ordered, forcing your legs to stay open as he leant down between your thighs, groaning at the way his cum drooled out of your swollen cunt, sliding down your shaking thighs.
Feeling a sense of post-orgasm confidence, you slid two tentative fingers between your legs, dipping into your sopping cunt, collecting both your juices onto your digits. Michael could sense where this was going, softened cock twitching, threatening to harden as you slipped your slick fingers into your mouth — sucking the mix of your salty and tangy essences clean from your burning skin.
“Holy shit, baby,” Michael breathed, feeling as though he was capturing pure talent through the screen as you released your fingers with a pop, similar to how you did with his cock prior, eyeing the camera with a knowing smirk,
pairing: jaafar jackson x popstar!reader
word count: 3,242
warnings: none
chapters: directory
a/n: welcome to 'the spotlight effect' first chapter, just a small interaction between jaafar and reader, this is going to be the slowest of burns. if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! throughout the fanfic, I'll include links (whatever is underline) to the performances and/or outfits I want to use for the reader, so you can get a better picture. hope you all enjoy this fanfic! keep those comments coming because I love reading all of them <3
ACT I. SOFT FOCUS
CHAPTER I. between takes
LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA
The warehouse studio sat tucked behind a row of unremarkable industrial buildings in Los Angeles, though there was nothing unremarkable about what was happening inside it. The moment the heavy doors slid open, sound spilled out first, bass vibrating through the concrete floor hard enough to feel in your ribs before the music itself became distinguishable. Massive stage lights hung from metal rigs overhead like artificial suns, flooding the set in cool white and pale silver while camera operators moved around dancers with practiced precision. Stylists carrying garment bags squeezed past production assistants balancing iced coffees and clipboards, somebody in the corner argued about lighting angles, and through all of it, the same twenty-second section of music repeated over and over again until it became less like a song and more like the pulse of the room itself.
In the middle of the chaos, Y/N stood near the playback monitors with an oversized black jacket hanging loosely off her shoulders, the outfit from the video still visible underneath. The look itself was sharp and deliberate, brown leather top and shorts, tall boots, shimmering makeup catching under the lights every time she turned her head, but off camera she looked far less intimidating than people usually expected. Her hair had already started falling slightly out of place from dancing for hours, and there was a faint flush lingering across her cheeks as she leaned toward one of the screens, watching the latest take back beside Prince Jackson.
'I actually like that one,' Prince said, arms crossed as the footage rolled. 'The camera caught the turn perfectly.'
Y/N narrowed her eyes at the monitor before shaking her head. 'The turn’s fine. I just think my timing was off when the beat switched.'
Prince looked over at her flatly. 'You say that every take.'
'Because every take feels slightly different.'
'That’s because you’re a human being and not a computer generated pop star.'
A laugh escaped her then, soft and tired around the edges as she stepped back from the monitor. 'You’re very inspiring as a director, you know that?'
'I do my best.'
The crew nearby laughed quietly, clearly used to the back-and-forth between them by now. It had only taken a few hours on set for the atmosphere to settle into something easy and collaborative. Y/N wasn’t difficult to work with, despite what people online liked assuming about successful women in pop music. She wasn’t throwing tantrums over camera angles or disappearing into a trailer between takes while assistants handled everything for her. Most of the time she stayed on set with everyone else, talking with dancers, thanking crew members whenever they adjusted something for her, occasionally stealing fries off catering trays whenever nobody was looking. There was professionalism in the way she worked, but not coldness. She simply cared enough to stay involved in every detail.
Prince glanced down at his phone briefly before slipping it back into his pocket. 'My cousin’s stopping by for a little while.'
Y/N hummed distractedly, barely processing the sentence while she reached for the jacket sleeve slipping down her arm. 'Oh. That’s fine.'
Prince watched her for a second, clearly entertained by her complete lack of curiosity, before shaking his head slightly and turning back toward the monitors. Across the room, the assistant director started calling people back into position for another setup while makeup artists rushed forward for final touch-ups. The familiar rhythm of production resumed almost instantly, people moving around each other with the kind of organized chaos that only existed on music video sets.
The next hour blurred together in flashes of choreography, camera resets, and music loud enough to drown out thought. Every time the playback started, something in Y/N shifted almost imperceptibly. Off camera, she moved through the set with a softness that contrasted strangely against the image people usually had of her online, speaking quietly, smiling easily, laughing with the dancers between takes. But once the music started, the entire atmosphere seemed to sharpen around her. Her posture changed first, then her expression, confidence settling into her features so naturally it barely looked intentional at all. It wasn’t arrogance. It was instinct. The kind performers developed after years of learning exactly how to command attention without appearing to ask for it.
By the time filming paused again, the studio had grown warmer beneath the lights despite the aggressive air conditioning humming overhead. Y/N walked toward the monitor area again, slightly breathless now, accepting a water bottle from one of the assistants with a grateful smile before immediately taking several long sips.
Prince looked up first when someone approached from behind the monitors. His face shifted instantly into recognition.
'Finally,' he said. 'Thought you got lost.'
Y/N glanced up automatically at the sound of his voice, still wiping condensation from the water bottle with her thumb. At first, she barely registered the figure standing beside him, white t-shirt, denim jacket and blue jeans, sunglasses on his hands, casual enough to blend into the studio if nobody knew who he was. Then recognition caught up half a second later.
Prince motioned him closer casually. 'Y/N, this is my cousin, Jaafar.'
There was the briefest pause as surprise crossed her face, subtle enough most people probably wouldn’t have noticed it. Not dramatic shock, just the realization settling in all at once.
Oh. That cousin.
Still, she recovered almost immediately, stepping forward automatically and extending her hand toward him. 'Hi, it’s so nice to meet you.'
Jaafar smiled as he shook her hand. 'Hi, you too.'
Up close, he looked calmer than she expected. Most people who suddenly found themselves carrying that level of public attention wore it visibly somehow, tension hidden behind rehearsed smiles and media training. But standing there now, Jaafar seemed almost quietly observant instead, taking everything in without needing to become the center of it.
For a second, the introduction stayed simple, Prince already half distracted by somebody asking him about camera placement nearby while the music started up again faintly in the background. Then Y/N looked back at Jaafar properly.
'Ugh I just need to,' she said, pointing at him lightly with the water bottle still in her hand, 'congratulations on the movie because you were genuinely incredible.'
The sincerity in her voice caught him off guard enough for it to show briefly across his face. Not because people hadn’t complimented the film before, obviously they had, but most reactions lately came filtered through interviews, press events, overwhelming public attention. This felt different. Casual. Honest.
'Ah, thank you so much,' he said, softer this time, never losing his smile.
'No, seriously.' She shook her head slightly. 'I watched it last week and I was actually nervous beforehand because…I mean, it’s Michael Jackson. Nobody was ever going to approach that lightly.'
Jaafar laughed quietly under his breath, already understanding exactly what she meant before she even finished the sentence.
'But you handled it really beautifully,' she continued. 'It never felt like you were trying to imitate him. You could tell there was actual care behind it.'
Something in his expression shifted then, subtle but noticeable. Relief, maybe. Or simply appreciation at being spoken to like another artist instead of a headline.
'That means a lot,' he admitted. 'Really.'
Y/N smiled easily at that before taking another sip of water. 'Been a fan since I was in diapers, so trust me, I would’ve been brutally honest if it sucked.'
Jaafar laughed properly this time, the sound warm enough to make her grin widen instinctively.
'Good to know I passed the test.'
Before she could answer, someone across the studio called her name loudly.
'Y/N! Resetting for another take!'
She groaned dramatically, tilting her head back toward the ceiling for a second before looking back at them. 'See? I actually live here now. They won’t let me leave.'
Prince snorted. 'You asked for two extra setups.'
'Details.'
As she started stepping backward toward set again, she pointed toward the speakers where the instrumental track had already begun replaying. 'And sorry in advance if this song gets permanently stuck in your head.'
Jaafar glanced toward the set before looking back at her. 'Pretty sure I’m already too late for that.'
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly at his answer before she finally turned away completely, jogging back toward the dancers gathering beneath the lights.
For the next few minutes, Jaafar stayed beside Prince near the monitors while the crew prepared for another take. He hadn’t planned on staying long when he came by the studio. Truthfully, he’d mostly stopped in because Prince had been talking about the project nonstop for the last week and curiosity finally got the better of him. Still, now that he was there, he found himself watching the room differently than before.
The atmosphere shifted the second filming resumed.
The music exploded through the speakers again, bass vibrating through the warehouse while cameras rolled into position. Y/N stepped into frame beside the dancers, oversized jacket discarded now, and almost immediately the softer edges of her disappeared beneath performance instinct. Not entirely, not in a way that felt fake, but enough that the contrast caught his attention anyway. The girl who had been laughing over water bottles moments ago suddenly moved with razor sharp confidence under the lights, every movement precise without looking overly rehearsed, every glance toward the camera deliberate enough to feel personal.
Even the crew quieted slightly while watching playback.
Prince leaned casually against the table beside him. 'Told you she’s insane onstage.'
Jaafar barely looked away from the monitors. 'Yeah,' he admitted after a moment, watching Y/N hit the final beat perfectly before the music cut again. 'She is…'
And standing there beneath the glow of studio lights and flickering playback screens, he finally understood why people couldn’t seem to stop talking about her lately. It wasn’t only the music or the performances or the image carefully packaged online. It was the way she transformed the second the cameras started rolling, like performing wasn’t something she did but something she instinctively became.
The second the director called cut, the illusion dissolved again almost instantly.
Y/N broke into laughter before the music had even fully faded, bending forward slightly as one of the dancers nearly collided into her after missing a step at the end of the routine. Somebody behind the cameras clapped sarcastically while another crew member yelled, 'That one was absolutely not my fault,' earning a chorus of protests from the rest of the set. The tension that had existed during filming disappeared into something lighter, easier, and Y/N slipped back into it naturally, grabbing onto the shoulder of the dancer beside her to steady herself while still laughing.
Jaafar found the contrast strangely fascinating.
Most performers he’d grown up around understood how to switch on for cameras. That part wasn’t new to him. But there was something unusually fluid about the way she moved between those versions of herself. Onstage, or whatever counted as onstage inside a warehouse full of expensive lighting rigs and camera tracks, she became almost intimidating to look at directly, every movement sharpened into something magnetic. Off camera, she seemed younger somehow. Softer around the edges. Human in a way fame usually tried to sand down over time.
One of the stylists hurried over to fix a loose piece of fabric near her shoulder while Y/N apologized immediately despite it clearly not being her fault.
'No, no, that clasp’s been fighting for its life all day,' the stylist assured her.
'That makes me feel worse somehow.'
'You’re impossible.'
Prince leaned down toward the monitor again, replaying the take while the crew reset around them. 'Honestly?' he said. 'That might’ve been the best one.'
Y/N wandered back over, still slightly out of breath, accepting another water bottle from somebody as she peered over his shoulder at the screen. Jaafar stepped aside automatically to give her room, though she still brushed past him lightly without seeming to notice, her attention fixed entirely on the playback.
The footage looked expensive in the way only major label productions did, silver-blue lighting flashing across polished choreography while the camera followed her movements with dizzying precision. Even unfinished, the video already carried the kind of sharp, addictive energy people would spend weeks posting edits of online. Y/N watched it closely, though not with the hypercritical obsession Jaafar half expected from someone at her level. She wasn’t searching for flaws so much as checking whether the feeling translated correctly onscreen.
'Okay,' she said after a moment, nodding slowly. 'I like that one.'
Prince looked dramatically toward the ceiling. 'Thank God.'
'Don’t get emotional on me.'
She laughed softly before finally stepping away from the monitor, twisting the cap back onto her water bottle. 'I think I just need one close-up setup and then we’re done.'
'Music to my ears,' one of the dancers called from nearby.
Y/N pointed toward them immediately. 'You say that now, but wait until rehearsals.'
A collective groan erupted across the set.
Jaafar smiled quietly to himself watching the exchange. There was an ease to the way people interacted with her that surprised him a little. Fame at that level often built invisible distance around people, even unintentionally. Staff became overly careful. Conversations turned rehearsed. Everybody monitored themselves constantly. But the atmosphere around Y/N didn’t feel stiff or performative. People teased her. Interrupted her. Complained dramatically around her. It felt less like watching a giant production orbit a celebrity and more like watching a group of people who genuinely liked working together.
Maybe that was why the entire set seemed to move around her so naturally.
Prince eventually got pulled away into another discussion with the cinematographer, leaving Jaafar standing near the monitors while stylists rushed Y/N back toward hair and makeup for the final setup. For the first time since arriving, the pace around him slowed enough that he became aware of the attention occasionally drifting his direction from crew members passing by. Not invasive exactly, just curious. The biopic had changed things quickly. Even normal interactions carried a strange layer now, moments where people recognized him but tried not to make it obvious.
He still hadn’t gotten used to it.
'You surviving?'
The voice pulled him from his thoughts. He looked up to find Y/N walking back toward the monitors again, though this time slower, her hair partially clipped back away from her face while somebody followed behind touching up makeup with a small brush.
'I’m entertained,' he admitted. 'I think I’ve heard the chorus at least fifty times?'
'That’s actually less than everybody else here.' She tilted her head sympathetically. 'You came on a merciful day.'
The makeup artist finished quickly before disappearing again and Y/N leaned lightly against the table beside the monitors, exhaustion beginning to settle visibly into her posture now that filming was nearly done. Up close, Jaafar noticed faint smudges of glitter lingering near her collarbone beneath the harsh studio lights.
'So how long does something like this usually take?' he asked.
'Too long.' She smiled tiredly. 'No, honestly, this hasn’t even been bad. There are videos where you’re filming until four in the morning and everybody starts hallucinating by hour twelve.'
'That sounds healthy.'
'It’s extremely glamorous,' she deadpanned.
He laughed quietly again, and the sound seemed to relax her further somehow, the conversation settling naturally into something easier than first introductions usually felt. For a brief moment, neither of them spoke. The speakers hummed softly in the background while crew members adjusted lighting for the close-up shots, conversations overlapping throughout the warehouse in scattered bursts.
Y/N glanced toward the monitor where the last frozen frame of playback still sat paused onscreen. 'I still can’t believe Prince managed to convince me to do half this stuff.'
'He said you asked for extra setups.'
'That information was confidential.'
'He seemed traumatized.'
'He’ll survive, he traumatized me.'
They both chuckles. There was a beat of silence before she looked back at him again, curiosity slipping into her expression now that the initial introductions had passed. 'So what’s it been like?'
Jaafar frowned slightly. 'What?'
'The movie. Everything after it, I mean.'
The question was careful, not invasive in the way interviews tended to be. She asked like someone genuinely interested in the answer rather than someone searching for a quote.
He exhaled quietly through his nose before shrugging a little. 'Weird.'
'Weird good or weird bad?'
'Both.' His mouth lifted faintly at the corner. 'Mostly just…a lot all at once.'
Y/N nodded immediately like she understood exactly what he meant without needing further explanation. Maybe she did.
'I think people forget success can still feel overwhelming,' she said after a moment. 'Everybody acts like once something good happens, you’re only allowed to feel grateful about it.'
Jaafar looked at her then, more carefully this time.
'And obviously you are grateful,' she continued. 'But that doesn’t magically make your entire life normal afterward.'
Something about the way she said it made it obvious she wasn’t only talking about him anymore.
Before he could answer, Prince’s voice echoed across the set again.
'Final setup!'
Y/N sighed dramatically. 'Duty calls. You know, if you ever need help with all this…fame thing, I’m always available'
'Thank you…' He said ignoring the warmth in his chest. 'I truly appreciate it, and I will definitely make use of that help'
Prince’s voice called for her again. As she pushed herself away from the monitor table, Jaafar found himself speaking before really thinking about it.
'You ever get tired of it?'
She paused halfway through turning around.
'The attention,' he clarified.
For a second, she seemed genuinely caught off guard by the question. Then her expression softened slightly into something quieter.
'Sometimes,' she admitted honestly. 'But I think I’d miss performing too much to walk away from it.'
And there it was once again.
Not fame.
Not attention.
Performing.
Like those things belonged in completely different categories to her.
She offered him one last smile before heading back toward set, boots echoing softly against the warehouse floor as dancers began taking their places beneath the lights again. Jaafar watched absentmindedly while somebody adjusted the camera track one final time, though his thoughts lingered on her answer longer than expected.
When the music started again, the room shifted with it.
Y/N stepped into frame, silver light catching against her skin while the opening beat pulsed through the speakers, and just like before, something about her sharpened instantly beneath the cameras. But now, after speaking with her properly, Jaafar noticed different things than he had earlier. Not only the confidence or choreography or the effortless way attention seemed to follow her naturally. He noticed how focused she became once filming started, how every movement connected directly to the music itself rather than simply the camera angles surrounding it. Nothing about it felt hollow.
She loved this.
Not the spectacle around it.
Not the headlines.
Not even necessarily the fame attached to it.
The performance itself.
And somehow, standing there inside a warehouse while the same song played for what had to be the hundredth time that day, Jaafar realized that might’ve been the thing he understood best about her already.
biting and sucking on jaafar’s biceps!!!! bc that's hot
synopsis: you're basically horned out over jaafar's arms
a/n: little gift cuz arsenal won the league after 20 years and i’m feeling on top of the world
you’ve always had a thing for your boyfriend’s hands and arms.
you just can’t help but feel all hot and bothered when the tendons in his forearms tighten. or when he carries around heavy boxes with ease, seeing the muscles in his upper arms all bunched up and bulging under the material of his shirt.
or his big hands, whenever one rests on your thigh, fingers stroking your skin slowly, you can’t help but feel tingles in your stomach from anticipation of how badly you want him to use them to—
if you weren’t so horny, you would be ashamed to admit that you wanted to bite him. his hands, his arms. his fingers wedged between your teeth. sucking marks all over him, rightfully claiming what’s yours.
your favourite thing is how protected you feel when jaafar’s arms tense up around you when he lifts you up with only a low grunt, lips brushing over your forehead in the process as he calls you every sweet name in the book whenever you feel stressed or sad.
it all happens with one simple stare. well, not really simple, because jaafar knows you better than you know yourself sometimes. he always knows when your stares and glances mean something more.
you’re on the sofa, legs tangled together, you resting on jaafar’s chest as you listen to his heart beat steadily under his ribcage. your eyes aren’t really on the tv, but more on him. his arms, in particular.
“you’re staring, baby.”
it takes a couple of seconds before you answer back, eyes completely zeroing in on his biceps. “what?”
“i said you’re staring,” he sounds somewhat amused, a slight smirk on his face. “you like my arms?” he lazily extends one arm experimentally, muscles automatically flexing along with the movement.
and damn, if that doesn’t immediately make your mouth water. especially now that your stupid beautiful boyfriend is waving his left arm around, right in your face.
the muscles in his arms look like little hills, skin even like an iced cake, perfect to sink your teeth into.
you finally remember to respond. “i— i do, i think.” you downright admit, heat creeping up your cheeks. your thighs already clamp together from his teasing tone alone. “especially this part—”
your nimble fingers already settle over jaafar’s forearm to pull him closer to you. your fingers squeeze around his bicep, feeling the thick tendons underneath his skin.
without thinking, you press one tentative kiss to the area, just letting it linger there, gauging your boyfriend’s reaction. the amused grin is still plastered on his face, this time with a darker, heavier gaze in his eyes.
“do you now, huh?” he asks, cupping your chin with his free hand, thumb rubbing back and forth. you nod happily, pressing another kiss to the muscle, this time pinching the skin between your teeth before you suck.
one more. another. and another, until his arm is covered in your glittery lipgloss, purple marks and slippery with your saliva. “you're killing me over here, princess.” your boyfriend grunts, his head tilting back from the sensation.
before you can press another kiss to jaafar’s arm, he’s already flipped you over, caging you in between his arms, his breath ghosting over your swollen lips.
“you’re so sweet. such a sweet girl. kissin’ all over me,” he whispers — even though you’re alone — his hot mouth travelling over the column of your neck. “gonna show me how much you like my arms, baby?”
a/n: sorry i keep cutting scenes off before the smut I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN SO LONG I THINK I FORGOT HOW TO (and haven't been intimate with anyone in a long time but that's too tmi) pls be patient with me, and sorry for cockblocking 💔
synopsis: years after distancing yourself from jaafar because of his fiancée’s jealousy, getting pulled back into the jackson family slowly brings the two of you back to each other.
the first time maddie made you feel unwanted, you were seventeen and standing in jermaine’s kitchen holding a plate of food while jaafar argued with jermajesty over music playing through somebody’s speaker.
it had been normal before she got there.
that was the thing that bothered you the most when you looked back on it years later. nothing about your friendship with jaafar had ever felt complicated until maddie started showing up beside him.
you and jaafar had grown up attached at the hip. the jackson house practically raised you alongside him. jermaine used to yell at both of you for running through the halls too loudly. jermajesty followed you around like an annoying little shadow because he thought you were cooler than everybody else. prince jackson treated you like another cousin. everybody did.
you belonged there.
and maddie noticed that immediately.
you still remembered the first time she looked at you too long.
you had walked into the kitchen laughing about something stupid jaafar said in the car. he had his arm around your shoulders for maybe two seconds before letting go to grab a drink from the fridge.
maddie watched the entire thing silently.
then she smiled.
“you two are really close,” she said casually.
jaafar nodded without thinking twice. “that’s my best friend.”
something flickered across her face for half a second before she laughed softly. “that’s cute.”
you ignored the weird feeling in your stomach.
you shouldn’t have.
because after that, things started changing little by little.
at first it was comments.
small ones.
easy to miss if you weren’t paying attention.
“you and y/n spend a lot of time together,” maddie had said one day while everybody sat in the living room.
jaafar shrugged from beside her. “yeah. we always have.”
maddie smiled at you. “i don’t think i could date somebody with a girl best friend like that.”
the room got awkward for exactly three seconds before jermajesty changed the subject loudly on purpose.
you pretended not to notice.
then came the slick stuff.
the kind of things that sounded innocent until they kept happening over and over.
one night you showed up to one of jaafar’s performances because he specifically texted you asking if you were coming. when you got there, maddie looked surprised to see you.
“oh,” she said. “i didn’t know you were invited.”
you blinked. “jaafar asked me to come.”
“really?” she replied, eyebrows lifting slightly. “that’s weird. he told me it was mostly family tonight.”
you stood there awkwardly while she smiled politely at you like she had not just made you feel stupid.
later that night, jaafar found you sitting near the back.
“why are you all the way over here?” he asked.
you shrugged. “didn’t wanna get in the way.”
he frowned. “you’re never in the way.”
maddie walked over before you could answer.
she slid her arm around his waist naturally and smiled at you. “we’re about to leave soon.”
you looked at jaafar. “oh. okay.”
he looked confused. “you don’t have to go.”
“i should,” you said quietly.
maddie smiled again.
that smile made you want to leave even faster.
another time, jermaine invited you over for dinner while jaafar and maddie were there. you ended up sitting beside jaafar automatically because that was where you always sat.
maddie looked at the chair between you and smiled sweetly.
“actually, y/n, can you switch with me?” she asked. “i barely got to see him all day.”
you immediately stood up because saying no would’ve made you look dramatic.
jaafar frowned slightly. “you were just with me.”
maddie laughed softly. “and now i wanna sit next to my boyfriend.”
everybody at the table got quiet for a second.
jermajesty rolled his eyes so hard you thought they might stick.
you moved anyway.
after that, you started avoiding situations where you’d have to compete for space you used to have naturally.
you stopped calling jaafar as much.
stopped showing up unexpectedly.
stopped texting first.
he noticed eventually.
one night your phone rang while you were in your apartment in seoul after practice.
jaafar.
you stared at the screen before answering.
“hello?”
“did i do something?” he asked immediately.
you froze. “what?”
“you’ve been weird with me for months.”
you leaned back against your couch quietly. “i haven’t been weird.”
“you barely talk to me anymore,” he replied. “you don’t come around.”
you closed your eyes for a second.
because how were you supposed to explain something he clearly didn’t see?
“you have your own life now,” you said carefully. “things change.”
“that’s not an answer,” he said.
you stayed quiet.
after a few seconds, he sighed softly. “did maddie say something to you?”
your stomach tightened.
“no,” you lied.
he was silent for a moment. “okay.”
you hated how disappointed he sounded.
but you hated how relieved you felt when the conversation ended too.
because distance was easier than feeling unwanted every time you walked into a room.
years passed like that.
not completely apart.
but different.
you still talked to jermajesty constantly. he’d facetime you randomly while you were backstage during tours just to annoy you. he’d send you clips of jaafar working on music without realizing how long you stared at them afterward.
the jacksons still treated you like family whenever you saw them.
but you and jaafar existed in this weird space where neither of you acknowledged how much had changed.
your solo career was doing better than ever. you had just finished promotions in korea and flew back to los angeles for a few weeks before your next schedule.
you were exhausted when your phone buzzed with an unknown number.
unknown number: answer your phone before i leak your middle school pictures.
you laughed immediately.
you: jermajesty if this is you i’m blocking you.
unknown number: wow. no hello or anything.
you shook your head smiling before sending another text.
you: why are you texting me off a fake number like a weirdo.
unknown number: because you ignore me on instagram.
you: because you’re annoying.
your phone rang immediately after.
you answered while walking into your kitchen. “what do you want?”
“wow,” jermajesty gasped dramatically. “that’s how you greet family?”
“you are not my family.”
“tell jermaine that,” he replied instantly. “he literally asked where you’ve been yesterday.”
that made something in your chest ache unexpectedly.
you opened your fridge quietly. “i’ve been busy.”
“you’ve been hiding,” jermajesty corrected.
you rolled your eyes. “you’re dramatic.”
“and you disappeared.”
there was a pause.
then he sighed. “just come over.”
“jermajesty.”
“come over,” he repeated. “dad misses you. prince keeps asking why you act like you moved to mars. and honestly the house is boring.”
you laughed softly despite yourself.
“i’ll think about it.”
“that means yes.”
“that means maybe.”
he groaned loudly before hanging up.
two days later, you were standing outside the jackson house again for the first time in months.
your stomach twisted nervously before you even knocked.
the door swung open before you could.
jermajesty pointed at you dramatically. “look who finally remembered us.”
you shoved his shoulder lightly. “shut up.”
he hugged you immediately anyway.
walking inside felt weirdly emotional.
everything smelled the same.
the furniture was mostly the same.
music still played somewhere in the background.
it felt like stepping back into a memory you’d spent years trying not to touch too much.
“y/n?”
you looked up at jermaine walking into the room.
his entire face lit up immediately.
“there she is,” he said loudly.
before you could react, he pulled you into a hug.
“you forgot about us?” he asked.
you laughed softly into the hug. “never.”
“that’s what happens when y’all get famous,” he muttered teasingly.
“you raised me around performers. this is your fault.”
he laughed loudly at that.
then your eyes lifted.
and there he was.
jaafar stood near the hallway staring at you like he wasn’t expecting to feel whatever he was feeling right now.
you froze for half a second.
he looked older than the last time you really looked at him. broader shoulders. sharper jaw.
but his eyes looked exactly the same.
“hey,” he said quietly.
“hey.”
jermajesty looked between both of you and made a face. “okay. this is painful.”
you laughed awkwardly while jaafar shook his head.
then maddie appeared behind him.
and instantly the air changed.
“oh,” she said smoothly. “i didn’t know y/n was coming.”
jermajesty answered before anybody else could.
“because it was a surprise.”
maddie smiled at him tightly before looking back at you.
“you look good,” she said.
“thanks,” you replied politely.
she nodded slowly. “korea’s been treating you well.”
there was something weird under the compliment. you recognized it immediately because she’d always spoken to you like that.
sweet enough that nobody else noticed anything wrong.
sharp enough that you always did.
dinner that night felt strange at first.
not bad.
just unfamiliar.
you sat beside jermajesty while prince showed you videos on his phone and jermaine kept asking about your music.
jaafar mostly listened quietly, but every now and then you’d catch him looking at you.
really looking at you.
like he was trying to figure out where exactly things went wrong between you two.
maddie noticed every single time.
at one point, jermaine got up to grab drinks.
“y/n still hates sparkling water?” he asked from the kitchen.
“yes,” jaafar answered immediately before you could.
everybody at the table looked at him.
he blinked like he hadn’t realized how automatic that response was.
maddie smiled slowly. “wow. you remember that?”
jaafar frowned slightly. “yeah?”
“interesting,” she murmured quietly.
you suddenly wanted to disappear.
after dinner, you ended up outside near the pool trying to breathe for a second.
the back door slid open behind you.
“you still do that.”
you turned to see jaafar stepping outside.
“do what?”
“leave parties when you get overwhelmed.”
you laughed softly. “i didn’t know you noticed.”
he looked at you for a second. “i notice a lot more than you think.”
that made your chest tighten annoyingly.
he leaned against the railing beside you. “you really disappeared.”
you stared down at the water quietly. “you were busy.”
“that’s not an answer either.”
you smiled faintly. “you still hate vague answers.”
“because you only give them when something’s wrong.”
there was a long silence after that.
then he looked over at you carefully.
“did maddie make you uncomfortable?”
your heart jumped.
“why would you ask that?”
“because every time she’s around, you leave.”
you laughed softly, but there was no humor in it. “maybe i just didn’t fit anymore.”
his expression shifted immediately.
“you’ve always fit here.”
you looked at him finally.
“not everybody thought so.”
he stared at you for a second like something was clicking into place too slowly.
before he could say anything else, the back door opened again.
maddie.
“there you are,” she said to jaafar. “i’ve been looking for you.”
her eyes flicked toward you briefly.
you immediately stepped back. “i was just heading inside.”
“you don’t have to leave,” jaafar said quickly.
“i’m fine,” you replied.
maddie smiled politely as you walked past her.
but right before you reached the door, she spoke softly enough that only you could hear.
“you know, it’s probably healthier not to cling to childhood friendships forever.”
you stopped for half a second.
then kept walking.
because if you stayed, you were genuinely afraid you’d say something ugly.
after that night, you expected things to go back to normal.
they didn’t.
jaafar texted you the next morning, off of instagram.
jaafar: did you get home okay?
you stared at the message longer than necessary.
you: yeah.
a few seconds later another message came.
jaafar: can i have your actual number again.
you blinked.
you: you lost it?
jaafar: maddie changed my phone a while ago and a bunch of.
you didn’t know why that bothered you.
still, you sent it.
you: don’t lose it again.
jaafar: i won’t.
and somehow that tiny conversation turned into another one.
then another.
then another.
soon you were texting him almost every day.
sometimes about stupid things.
sometimes about music.
sometimes about memories neither of you realized you both still carried around.
he’d send you clips of songs he was working on at two in the morning.
you’d send him pictures from backstage during schedules in tokyo or seoul.
you became best friends again so naturally it almost scared you.
maddie noticed immediately.
one night you were facetiming jaafar while he sat in his studio.
“you still have that hoodie?” he asked laughing after seeing you wearing an old sweatshirt.
you looked down. “this is literally yours.”
“i know,” he said smiling.
another voice suddenly came from somewhere off camera.
“whose hoodie?”
maddie.
jaafar looked away from the screen briefly. “y/n stole it years ago.”
maddie appeared beside him moments later.
“oh,” she said.
you smiled politely. “hi.”
“hi,” she replied.
the silence afterward felt awful.
then maddie looked at jaafar. “can i talk to you for a second?”
his expression shifted slightly. “right now?”
“yes.”
you immediately shook your head. “it’s okay. i should sleep anyway.”
jaafar frowned. “you don’t have to hang up.”
“i’m tired,” you lied.
maddie smiled softly. “goodnight, y/n.”
you hung up before answering.
the next day, jaafar texted you apologizing.
you pretended it didn’t bother you.
but it did.
still, no matter how awkward things got, you kept getting pulled back toward him anyway.
because when it was just you and jaafar talking, everything felt easy again.
like before.
like home.
your birthday came up three months later.
you barely planned anything because your schedule was insane.
which was exactly why jermajesty managed to trick you so easily.
“dad wants you over,” he texted. “something about dinner.”
you sighed while grabbing your keys.
you should’ve known something was suspicious when jermajesty sounded way too excited on facetime earlier.
still, you drove over.
when you walked inside, the lights were off.
“hello?” you called.
then suddenly the entire room exploded with yelling.
“surprise!”
you jumped so hard you nearly dropped your bag.
the lights flicked on.
the jackson house was packed.
music blasted through speakers. balloons covered half the living room. jermaine stood near the kitchen grinning proudly while prince laughed at your shocked expression.
jermajesty literally doubled over laughing.
“your face!” he shouted.
you stared around the room completely stunned. “what is happening?”
“your birthday party,” prince answered obviously.
“i didn’t ask for this!”
“good thing nobody cared,” jermajesty replied.
you laughed helplessly while everybody crowded around hugging you.
then your eyes found jaafar standing near the hallway.
he looked nervous.
which instantly made your stomach flip.
you walked over slowly. “you did this?”
he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “maybe.”
“jaafar.”
“you never celebrate yourself,” he said quietly. “so i wanted to.”
something in your chest softened immediately.
before you could answer, jermaine wrapped an arm around your shoulders dramatically.
“this girl practically grew up in this house,” he announced loudly to everybody nearby. “of course we’re celebrating her.”
you laughed while prince pointed toward the cake.
“jermajesty almost ruined the surprise three times,” prince exposed.
“snitch,” jermajesty muttered.
the entire night felt warm in a way you hadn’t realized you missed.
you sat in the kitchen with jermaine listening to old stories about you and jaafar as kids. prince kept making fun of your old hairstyles. jermajesty followed you around annoying you every five seconds.
and jaafar stayed close the entire night without making it obvious.
maddie noticed all of it.
you saw it in the way she kept watching.
the way her smile kept getting tighter.
the breaking point happened when jermaine pulled you into a family picture.
“come here,” he said.
you laughed. “i’m not in this.”
“yes you are,” jermaine argued immediately.
jermajesty grabbed your wrist dramatically and dragged you beside him while prince laughed.
jaafar ended up standing next to you naturally.
maddie stared at the entire thing silently.
the flash went off.
then another.
and another.
you didn’t realize maddie had walked away until later.
jaafar noticed first.
he found her outside near the driveway while everybody else stayed inside.
“what’s wrong?” he asked.
maddie laughed quietly like she couldn’t believe he was asking.
“seriously?”
he frowned. “what?”
“you’re asking me what’s wrong after tonight?”
his expression hardened slightly. “maddie.”
“everybody treats her like she belongs to you,” she snapped suddenly. “your family acts like she’s already part of everything.”
“because she grew up with us.”
“and you’re emotionally attached to her in a way that’s weird.”
jaafar stared at her. “what?”
“you look at her differently,” maddie said quietly. “you always have.”
he opened his mouth immediately. “that’s not true.”
but the hesitation before he answered ruined everything.
maddie saw it too.
her face fell slightly before she laughed bitterly.
“wow.”
“maddie.”
“i’m not doing this,” she said shaking her head. “i’m not gonna marry somebody who’s in love with someone else and pretending he doesn’t know it yet.”
his entire face changed.
because for the first time, he couldn’t immediately deny it.
maddie looked at him for another second before stepping back.
“you should figure your feelings out,” she said quietly.
then she left.
inside, you had no idea what happened.
you were sitting on the kitchen counter eating cake with jermajesty bothering you when jaafar walked back inside.
one look at his face made your stomach drop.
“what happened?” you asked softly.
he looked at you for a second too long.
then away.
“maddie left.”
everything suddenly felt wrong.
the party ended not long after that.
you stayed behind helping clean while everybody else slowly headed home.
jaafar barely spoke.
jermajesty kept looking between both of you nervously.
finally, when everybody else disappeared upstairs, you found jaafar outside near the pool again.
full circle.
you stepped closer carefully. “you okay?”
he laughed quietly without humor. “not really.”
you leaned against the railing beside him silently.
after a long pause, he spoke.
“she broke up with me.”
your chest tightened immediately. “because of me?”
he looked over at you slowly.
“because she thought something was going on between us.”
“there isn’t,” you said quickly.
another silence.
then he looked away again.
“that’s the problem,” he muttered.
your heartbeat sped up instantly.
“jaafar.”
he rubbed his face tiredly before looking at you again.
“i spent years thinking i was imagining it,” he admitted quietly. “every time you pulled away from me, it bothered me more than it should’ve.”
you stared at him silently.
“when you stopped showing up, the house felt wrong,” he continued softly. “when you started talking to me again, everything felt normal again.”
your throat tightened.
he stepped closer slowly.
“and tonight when she left, the first person i wanted to find was you.”
you could barely breathe suddenly.
“jaafar…”
“i know the timing’s messy,” he interrupted quietly. “i know it probably makes me an asshole. but i can’t stand here pretending anymore.”
you looked at him for a long second.
then finally whispered, “i used to think you stopped caring about me.”
his expression broke instantly.
“never.”
that answer came too fast to be fake.
his hand moved carefully against your face like he was scared you’d disappear again.
you didn’t pull away.
and when he kissed you, it felt years overdue.
slow at first.
careful.
then real.
your hand grabbed the front of his jacket automatically while he pulled you closer.
when he finally pulled back, both of you stayed there breathing the same air for a second.
If you’re taking requests, may I request a thriller era Mike x wife reader. Mike and reader have been married for a year and she’s newly pregnant and only they know. He takes her with him to his iconic grammy win night, he’s just doting on her and protective. Also is a horndog the whole night though he’s shy but not for his wife. touching and kissing her. Ends with smut!!! Srry if this is a dumb request.
a/n: thought i got a little carried away but then remembered he broke a bed
t/w: smut, 18+ mdni, p in v, fingering, oral (f! and m! receiving), overstimulation
“Are you sure?”
You rolled your eyes from the bed, “yes, I’m sure. I’m only five weeks. It’ll be perfectly fine.”
Michael bit at the inside of his cheek as he adjusted his belt, looking over at you through the mirror.
Ever since you had told him you were pregnant it was like the entire world was all the sudden out to get you. Everything was dangerous to him. You appreciated his precaution, it was endearing.
“If anyone tries grabbing at you, I’m gonna have bad headlines in the press tomorrow.”
Standing up, you walked over to him and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back to hear his heart beat.
“It’ll be okay.”
You felt him sigh before he turned around in your arms, cupping your face with his hands and not a moment later his mouth was on yours.
Smiling into the kiss, your arms came up and wrapped around his neck. Laughing a bit as his hands danced down and started to lift up your dress.
He was always like this. He could never get enough of you, but ever since you got pregnant his sex drive only seemed to double. If possible.
“Honey, we don’t have time.”
“We’ll make time.” He muttered, fingers already searching for your zipper.
Lights flashed in a blinding crescendo the moment the car door opened. You squinted against the light and suddenly grew envious of your husband's choice to wear sunglasses.
Like always, he got out first and offered his hand. Your heels settled on the ground and not a moment later his arm was around your waist and his lips dipping low towards your ear.
“You okay?”
Patting him on the chest as a yes, the two of you were ushered towards the entrance of the red carpet. Waving and smiling at the cameras and fans as you went and every time someone shouted your name, you felt Michael’s grip tighten around you.
The whole time you walked in increments down the carpet, he wouldn’t take his eyes off you. Ignoring the shouts from the press to look over. His hand reached up to move some hair out of your eyes and he seemed to ask you for the hundredth time if you were doing okay and if you needed to sit down.
As the two of you navigated the crowd to find your seats, he acted like a human shield. His hand holding tightly onto yours as he practically pushed through the crowd, muttering excuse me as he went and shooting daggers at people who didn’t move over enough. Dismissing anyone who tried to stop him for a talk and when someone grabbed your arm he looked like he was about to punch someone.
You couldn’t help it as you laughed behind your hand, finally finding your seats by the stage for the night.
“What?” He asked, oblivious as he knelt to adjust your dress after you sat down.
“You’re absolutely ridiculous.”
He raised a brow at you but didn’t bother to refute that statement as he leant forward and placed a kiss to your exposed knee from where it peeked out from the slit in your dress. Your cheeks immediately heating up at the display of affection.
He sat down next to you, ever so subtly adjusting himself as he did so and he leaned over, voice a whisper. “You look beautiful tonight. You’re glowing.” He kissed your shoulder then, “I wish we were back at the room.”
“Stop it, I probably look like a tomato.” You smacked him lightly but he easily caught your hand and brought it up to his lips.
Quincy finally joined them, sending them a wink as he sat down. “Hey, lovebirds.”
“Hi, Q.” You smiled and leaned over to talk but before you could utter a word, Michael was kissing you. You were expecting a peck at most since you were in public but became acutely aware of his tongue tracing the inside of your mouth.
Like always, you just about melted but also felt on fire with the fact people were around.
He pulled back, his smile devilish and his thumb tugged on your bottom lip. “You need to fix your lipstick.”
With each Grammy he won, he’d squeeze your thigh before getting up, bending down to kiss you before he went up on stage. The lipstick marks building up as the night went on and God, he was glowing up on that stage and your hands itched from all the clapping you had been doing.
“First, I’d like to thank God for all the wonderful gifts He’s given me and of course my beautiful wife, Mrs Jackson.”
Eight Grammy’s later, you could tell he was on an adrenaline high. Holding as many awards in one arm as he could while the other was wrapped around your waist. He had been smiling so hard you were sure his face went numb.
You were so caught up in the rush of it all you barely noticed he was leading you back to the car.
“What about the after party?”
“We’re not going to that.”
“What? Mike, you broke the record. You have to—“
He turned around, tugging you close and it was only then you took note of how blown his pupils were.
“Baby, if we’re not back in that hotel room in the next hour, I’m gonna pop a fuse.”
You bit your lip, enjoying the way his eyes flicked down to your mouth far too much.
“Okay.”
“Good, now get your ass in the car.”
You were giddy and nodded without another thought, on your own high when he slapped your butt as you bent down to get in the car.
The ride there was anything but tame. The second the car started to move, he rolled up the partition and was on you.
His hands were everywhere, immediately messing up the meticulous updo you had going on with your hair and his mouth ruining your makeup for the hundredth time that night.
His tongue was searing as his mouth trailed down from yours to your neck, lower to the exposed cleavage of your chest and you were half expecting him to rip your dress off just to get at more skin.
Your heart caught in your throat as you watched him slide down to the floor of the car, throwing your exposed leg over his shoulder as he kissed up the inside of your thigh.
His eyes caught yours in the low light, the city passing by in a blur and casting shadows across his face. You suppressed a shiver and he pushed your other knee out, exposing your underwear to the air. You were already wet, something you probably would’ve been embarrassed by but maybe it was the pregnancy hormones.
Michael sighed, sounding blissful. “Look at you. Perfect.”
Then his mouth was on you through the thin cotton and you couldn’t help it as your hips bucked up, hand coming down to hold the back of his head as your own was thrown back against the seat.
The sounds leaving your mouth were lewd and filled the air, not caring if the driver heard you and when you felt Michael pull your underwear aside and sink two fingers in you felt delirious.
His mouth was hot and wet against you as he worked you with his fingers, his gloved hand holding your thigh securely over his shoulder as he ate you out. His tongue was like a weapon, drawing circles over your clit before flatting it.
When he added a third finger you were pretty sure you started to cry.
“Michael! I’m… fuck.”
“That’s it,” he whispered against you and once you came he didn’t bother stopping. Apparently in his own frenzy and it was only then you noticed he was gripping himself through his slacks.
The door to the hotel room shut and his hands were back on you, fumbling for the zipper and he just about ripped through the fabric in his haste. His mouth latching onto your neck from behind and hands clawing at your hips to grind into you, guiding you through the room blindly before falling onto the bed.
You watched with a ringing in your ears as his teeth caught on his glove and pulled it off, tossing it carelessly behind him and shrugging off his jacket.
Eyes flicking down, you could see him clearly through his pants and your mouth went a little dry as you watched him undo his belt.
“Do you know how difficult it was trying not to make this obvious the whole night?” He kicked his pants off and was left in his boxers, taking hold of himself through the fabric and he shut his eyes briefly as he squeezed.
You watched the way the veins in his hands popped as he did so in a lust induced haze.
“Sorry,” you muttered. Slowly beginning to lie backward into the bed as he approached, his thumbs hooking onto the band of his boxers as he began to lower them.
“No, you’re not.”
You shook your head and hummed as he crawled over you, his knees pushing your legs open as he did so.
“Not at all.”
His lips crashed down on yours, one hand winding in your hair as the other hiked one of your legs up and you felt him brush against your entrance.
He tugged lightly, still careful with you as your neck bent back and his mouth trailed down, sucking and biting as went and a groan left him when he finally thrusted into you.
“Eight times,” he said between bites and you were sure marks would be littered all over you tomorrow.
“What?” You barely managed to get out, your own hands in his hair and he fucked you with little restraint. The sound of skin slapping against each other was enough to send your nerves tingling but then he took hold of your jaw, making you look at him.
“I’m gonna make you come for each award I won and you’re gonna take it because I know you can.”
Before you could even think to reply to that statement, his hand danced down and started to circle your clit and he looked beyond pleased to see your back arch off the bed.
It was rough and you loved it. He always started off pretty sweet, gentle. But as time ticked away he always got lost in it, his mind slipping somewhere else and you were sure it was heaven.
One hand took hold of your hips as he started to yank you down onto his cock, the pace brutal and your nails sunk into his back as you let out a cry. The way he had one of your legs up and around him made the angle he was hitting feel like you were being struck by a tuning fork hitting a star.
“Michael—“
“Come for me, baby.” His voice was low in your ear and worked like magic as you did as told.
And you started again.
The next was you bent over with your face pressed into the mattress. He made you finish twice that way.
Then with you on top but you were hardly in control of the situation as he thrusted up into you.
You were a complete wreck with no sense of direction when his head was back between your thighs.
“I can’t—“ but then you did and you were crying and he was drinking up the sight.
Barely giving you any grace when he carried you to the shower, though he was slower to give you a little breathing room, his fingers found their way back to fucking you eventually.
Lucky number eight he didn’t even have to touch you.
His hands were wrapped in your hair and he thrusted into your mouth and the sight of him with his head thrown back as he came down your throat was enough to send you over the edge.
The air smelt like sex and sweat and you were half conscious as his hands rubbed circles into your back.
“I think I got a little carried away,” he said up to the ceiling before peeking down at you. “I’m sorry.”
You shook your head, half way into slumber and held onto him tighter.
“I loved it.”
The last thing you remembered before falling asleep was him kissing the top of your head.
contains.. ❤︎ desperately horny reader who gets princess treatment in the bedroom! smut: missionary, dirty talk, size kink bc jaafar is big af. breeding kink, unprotected sex, creampie, jaafar is a soft dom because of course he is… also i just had to mention his ass twice sorry hehe.
today had been tiresomely long. your boyfriend had spent the day doing press for michael from 9 to 5, and you’d gone with him, watching from behind the cameras. of course you loved being there, but the problem was that he looked so fucking sexy in his silk shirt and those perfectly tailored black pants, and by the time you both got home, you were more than ready to rip everything off him. it was ovulation week, so that made sense…
❤︎ “woah baby, can you at least wait until we get through the door?” jaafar chuckled as you pawed at the collar of his shirt, pressing open-mouthed kisses from his jaw to his adam’s apple, faint lipstick stains marking him up. he kept one arm around your waist to make sure you didn’t stumble. you hadn’t consumed a single drop of alcohol—you were just ditsy with your desperation.
you’d both just stepped out of his car, and he'd forced you to behave in the vehicle during the entire journey, so now, back on the doorstep of your shared home, you decided you’d display your need as shamelessly as ever.
“no, you’ve had me waiting all day,” you murmured against his jaw, before kissing him with tongue. he hummed into the kiss, still smiling, then laughed and pushed your head back gently.
“most days we don’t have sex until evening.”
you gave him a pointed look, threading your fingers through his. “most days i haven’t had to stare at your gorgeous face for eight hours straight.”
“okay, whatever, i get it,” jaafar only chuckled again, and took out his keys to unlock the front door. “i didn’t realise i was that appealing just sitting and talking.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest—so, so desperate to feel him wholly. “you’re kidding me, right?” you hummed airily into his skin. he smelled incredible, as usual.
he kissed the crown of your head as the key rattled in the lock, and then he pushed open the door.
“finally,” you sighed as you clung to him. he shut the door behind you both, locking it with the free hand not holding you, and then after you each took off your shoes, both his arms moved to wrap around your waist, and he rocked you in his hold.
“what do you wanna do, baby?” he whispered into the crown of your head, where you still rested in the crook of his neck like a cub clinging to its mother.
“i think you know,” you replied sweetly, pulling back to look up at him with those eyes he could never say no to. not that he would even want for a second to say no to you this evening.
“i think i do too,” he smirked, running his hands up and down your back before resting them at your ass over your jeans. he gave the area a squeeze, and if you weren’t so horny you would’ve made a joke about the ass he was packing down there himself.
you batted your lashes up at him playfully, waiting for him to drag you upstairs and have his way with you, like you’d been waiting for all day.
“jump,” he ordered with a teasing smile, and with a giggle you kept your arms around his neck as you jumped up into his hold, wrapping your legs around him.
you let out a soft gasp as he bounced you a little in his arms, and then he was off up the stairs immediately, bringing you with him pressed against his chest like a princess being rescued. in your case, rescued from the mundanity and sexual frustration of the day.
jaafar brought you to your shared bedroom and let go of you to lay you down in the sheets, a graceful fall from his embrace as you anticipated all that you craved.
quickly, you shimmied out of your jeans and threw off your shirt, leaving you in only a matching set of baby pink underwear. jaafar was also wasting no time getting undressed—you watched as he too threw off his shirt, and began unbuckling his belt.
there weren’t many sexier sights (or sounds too, for that matter) on this earth than jaafar unbuckling his belt after a long day. you bit your lip as you looked up at him. he then pulled his pants down and off, before tugging off his boxers too and tossing them somewhere. now his thick and fully hard cock stood up against his abdomen in front of you, the tip flushed with need.
you moaned involuntarily at the mere sight of him positioning himself over you, and immediately you reached down to stroke his length.
he shut his eyes tight at the feeling. “oh fuck baby…”
“yeah, does that feel good, handsome?” you asked, loving to feel the ridges of each vein against your smooth palm.
“perfect, shit—” he moaned as you sped up your movements, but a few moments later you pulled away and his attention was brought back to your pleasure only. you had been waiting all day after all, and he had a feeling you were ovulating. in some insane way, he could often tell which point of your cycle you were at.
“j, i need you so fucking bad,” you moaned against his lips as he kissed you, his tongue swirling against yours.
“yeah i know, princess,” he cooed, starting to tug down your pink panties without having to be told twice. “patience, alright?” he flung them somewhere by his own underwear, and then lastly he removed your bra, pressing kisses and softly biting all over your chest as he did so.
“wait a sec,” he leaned over to his nightstand and pulled out a drawer, “i'm just gonna get a condom before we get carried away with ourselves and forget.”
but you grabbed his bicep to stop him. “no. i want it raw, please j.”
he raised a brow, having definitely not expected those words when you were completely sober. “you sure?”
“yeah, i’m sure," you said quickly. this didn't need to be a whole discussion—you just needed his cock. "now please shut up and fuck me, baby—i don’t think i’ve ever been more horny in my life.”
he laughed at your words, that beautiful grin lighting up his face, and he positioned himself over you again, thumb rubbing your cheek softly. “okay, i know you need it hard right now, so that’s what we’re gonna do, yeah?” he whispered so intimately.
you nodded, beaming.
“but aren’t you ovulating, baby?” he smacked the head of his cock over your clit several times, and your hips jolted with the force of the pleasure.
“mmph,” you whined against the pillows. “yeah, i am. how did you know?”
“i have special powers,” jaafar smirked, still sliding the weight of himself up and down your soaked pussy. every single slight touch and movement set your body alight with what felt like microdoses of ecstasy, you were that horny. it was almost as if your body truly was begging for a baby.
except that was ridiculous, because neither of you had ever once considered parenthood as a serious reality in the nearby future. the fact was that right now you weren’t thinking about the reality of anything. all that was on your mind was your gorgeous man and his equally gorgeous assets.
“okay, so you’re really sure?” jaafar asked for what felt like the millionth time.
“yes, baby—just fuck me,” you sighed, but the amused look on his face at this unrestrained episode of neediness made you chuckle.
“manners,” he ordered, brows raised in a playful scold, now teasing his tip at your entrance, pushing in ever so slightly just to pull out again, and repeat.
“please fuck me, sir,” you replied with a sweet smile, expecting more teasing, but instead he pushed in—finally.
jaafar's cock was so so girthy, length at least six inches, so he guided himself in gradually, letting you adjust. no matter how horny you were, he didn’t want to risk hurting you.
although, he knew you wanted no mercy tonight, so once he’d bottomed out, that first rough thrust felt like you’d ascended to heaven. he hit your spot instantly, as always, and his low groans above you only added to the perfection of the moment.
he’d worked out a lot in preparation for the movie, so his biceps were a beautiful sight for sore eyes, and you found yourself lost in that sight as he rested one hand up on the headboard behind you, his muscles flexing. with each harsh thrust the headboard knocked against the wall, a rhythmic noise that sounded in between the moans spilling from both of you.
his thick cock hit that spongy, sensitive spot inside you with every stroke, and you gasped and whined each time.
“jaafar, baby, fuck—”
“yeah, you good, princess?” he murmured through groans. he could barely contain himself. to him, it was a slice of heaven being inside you.
your response wouldn’t leave your lips because all that you sounded out were lewd noises as his thrusts never once let up or slowed.
“hm? tell me how good it feels, baby girl. talk to me.”
jaafar then shifted positions slightly, from hovering above you to now being pressed completely against you, skin on skin. his body suffocated yours in the most beautiful way, everything feeling so incredibly intimate. your hands went to his curls the second he moved, the strands always your favourite thing to hold while he fucked you into oblivion.
he was gazing down at you, your foreheads touching, and you tried to meet his eyes, tried to respond to his question, but the pleasure was just too much. your eyes only kept fluttering shut, your incoherent mouth exposing how much of a cockslut you were for your man.
“mhm—i—oh fuck j, i can’t—”
“no, talk to me, beautiful,” he murmured in your ear, kissing every inch of your face. “‘m making you feel so good, huh? you gonna cum for me soon, sweet girl?”
through more gasps and moans, you finally managed to respond lucidly. “yeah—mmh—gonna cum—i love it when you fuck me so deep jaafar, oh m…”
each time you called him by his first name during sex, he always nearly lost his mind. it was the most perfect thing for him to hear you moan his name while all fucked out beneath him, his cock plunging in and out of your tight walls—he as the sole cause of your ecstasy-like pleasure.
“that’s it, my angel… keep telling me all about it…”
“baby, i can hardly speak,” you breathed out, giggling in his ear. he smelled so fucking good, and you could feel him everywhere with how his body was caging you in. now you reached one hand down to grip his ass—that ass the whole world was talking about—while your other hand remained tight in his curls.
he chuckled in your ear too, but never paused concentration. he bit his lip hard with the force of his relentless strokes, leaving you wondering how on earth he was managing to keep this up for so long without slowing down. his stamina was off the charts.
“i know, baby girl. but you like getting fucked dumb, huh?”
now your nails were running up and down from his ass to his shoulder blades, the pleasure building constantly.
“yes i do j—mmmh, that’s it baby, i’m close—”
“yeah me too sweet girl… i know… let me get you there.” he pulled back a little in order to reach a hand down and rub your clit, while the other kneaded one of your breasts. he twisted a nipple between his fingers and you almost screamed, having to smack a hand over your mouth because of the neighbours. jaafar only laughed, finding it all so amusing, and that famous smile never failed to give you butterflies even when you were already on cloud nine.
“i’m gonna eat your pussy after this,” he grinned, still toying with your clit expertly.
“yeah?” you half-sighed half-laughed, nails still raking up and down his back. “it’s my special day.”
“well, whatever my girl wants, she gets.”
“i’m so blessed,” you giggled.
now his thrusts were beginning to falter, but you could tell that was due to how close he was to his orgasm.
“j,” you gripped his strong bicep, “i need your cum so fucking deep, i’m serious—”
“i’ll give it to you baby,” he groaned, the pace turning erratic now that he was so close. “shit, this pussy is fucking insane… so tight, fuck—”
and then you felt it all. spurts of his hot cum filled your womb, and he thrusted through his release while you continued to react like a whore beneath him.
it was only moments later that you reached your own climax, toes curling, body seizing in the most ethereal pleasure. you couldn’t believe how jaafar managed to get you like this every time.
when you both caught your breath, jaafar collapsed on top of you, his head on your chest, cock softening inside. you loved this part so much.
he took a deep sigh against your collarbone and then spoke. “i need to fuck you raw again. right now." he began pressing light kisses all over your chest.
you chuckled, playing with his hair. you were the only one who he ever allowed to touch those pretty curls.
"but first, i'm eating you out," he added plainly. "like i said."
you blushed, smiling down at him, a rush of contentment running through your body and down to your most sensitive area. you were in the mood to be overstimulated tonight.
“i love you, baby,” you whispered, beaming. “you’re so good to me.”
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By the time Jaafar gets you upstairs, you’re basically attached to him. One arm around his neck.
The other holding absolutely nothing important.Your missing heel situation has still not been resolved. “Baby,” Jaafar laughs softly while unlocking the apartment, “where's your other shoe at?” You blink slowly. Then gasp. “Oh my days.”
“What?”
“I had two.” He starts laughing immediately. Like fully laughing now, shoulders shaking while you stare at him offended. “Y-you’re not helping.”
“You losin’ pieces of your outfit outside and I’m the problem?”
“You’re supposed to support me emotionally.”
“I am supportin’ you emotionally.”
“No, you’re bein’ mean.” Jaafar finally gets the door open and the second you step inside, you immediately grab onto him with both arms again, very clingy...He almost stumbles backward from the force of it. “Damn,” he laughs. “Missed me that bad?”
“Yes.” The answer comes so fast he actually pauses. Then his whole expression melts.
“Aw my sweet girl.” You shake your head against his chest dramatically. “Don’t leave.”
“I’m literally right here.”
“No but like…just don't.”Jaafar has to bite his lip to stop laughing again.You look up at him suddenly with wide sleepy eyes.“You’re so pretty.”
“Oh? am i?.” He Softly laughs. “No seriously.” Your hands squish his cheeks together. “Like stupid pretty. t-that's not okay.”
“Stupid pretty?” he says confused. “Mhm.” He kisses your forehead softly while you continue staring at him.
Drunk you was dangerously affectionate. And Jaafar loved every second of it. “You need water first,” he says gently.
“No! No.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Noooo,” you whine, following him into the kitchen attached to him. “Kiss me first.”
“Baby—”
“Pleaseeee.”Jaafar turns around immediately, smiling helplessly before kissing you softly. And immediately you kiss him back way too hard. Missing his mouth once because you’re laughing.
Jaafar laughs against your lips too, hands steadying your waist while you keep kissing him between giggles. “There she go,” he murmurs softly. “Shh..N-Nooo talking.”
“M’not talkin’.”
“You literally are.” You kiss him again before he can defend himself. And again, And again. Jaafar eventually starts laughing into your mouth because you genuinely won’t stop. “Baby,” he says breathlessly between kisses, “lemme breathe.”
“Nooo.”
“That’s so selfish.”
“You’reee mineee.” The way you say it almost visibly affects him. His smile softens instantly. “Yeah?” he murmurs quietly.
“Mmhmm.” You kiss the corner of his mouth this time, then his jaw, then somewhere near his cheek because your aim is questionable now. Jaafar’s holding your waist tighter now just to keep you standing. “You drunk-drunk,” he whispers affectionately. “I’m in love-love.”
“That too.” You bury your face dramatically into his neck afterward. And immediately start kissing there too. Little sleepy kisses all over his skin while Jaafar just stands there smiling like an idiot.
“Baby,” he laughs quietly, “what are you doing?”
“Lovin’ youuu.” That one hits him directly in the chest. You can tell too because suddenly Jaafar gets quieter. His hands slide warmly up your back while he presses one kiss into your hair. “My sweet girl.. you need some sleep,” he murmurs. You hum happily against his neck, still refusing to let go of him for even one second.
When he tries reaching for the water bottle again, you tighten your grip immediately. “No.”
“You holding me hostage now?”
“Yes.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You like it.” True..Very true, Jaafar finally gives up on pretending he needs space and just lifts you onto the kitchen counter instead. You immediately pull him closer again between your knees. “There,” you mumble proudly. “Now stay.”
“Yes ma’am.” You smile dreamily before kissing him again slower this time.
Still smiling into it. Jaafar kisses you back gently, one hand resting against your thigh while the other brushes hair away from your face.
And Oh Goodness-
he looks at you so softly when you’re like this. Like being loved by you is his favorite thing that’s ever happened to him. “You know what?” you whisper suddenly. “What?”
“I’d cry if you..cry.” Jaafar stares at you for one second. Then bursts into laughter so hard he nearly folds in half.“That’s your declaration of love?”
“It’s serious!” You stare. “Oh my baby..”
“You can’t cry.” You pout. “I’ll do my best.” You squint suspiciously. “Promise me.”
“I promise.” Satisfied, you nod once, Then immediately kiss him again because apparently that’s the solution to everything tonight.
