(18+) jaafar’s definitely the type to talk you through it. i know it’s pretty much been agreed upon but i’m talking like GUIDING, PRAISING you for how good you’re doing for him. i find it hard to see him being rough, he’s such a loverboy that all he can focus on is pleasing you and making sure you’re feeling good. he would have one arm wrapped around you, holding you close as he fingers you nice and soft to get you ready for him. “oh there you go princess, you hear how good you sound for me?”, jaafar praises you with a cocky undertone as he knows no one else could get you to sound squelching and needy the way he does. and all you can do is whimper in response, nothing audible can form in your mind as long as jaafar keeps you on the path of bliss. (idk guys soft dom!jaafar needs to be talked about more ok)
masterlist 𓈒▐ 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮. after a particularly rough rehearsal that has michael exhausted, you show him exactly how much you appreciate him. ▐ bad era!michael being a total sub! we cheer! → handjob, lil bit of choking, wet and messy kisses, some dry humping?, cum eating, praise and degradation kink, desperate!michael ₊⊹
You sensed Michael's presence soon before you heard him.
The soft click of the door, as if he thinks he'll wake you up from deep slumber, then a sigh, equally innocent and sweet, even though deeply exhausted. Michael taking off his shoes and shrugging his jacket off, the soft clicks of his chunky belt echoing through the otherwise quiet house.
The sound of his keys hitting the wooden surface of the cabinet down the hall, then the heavy footsteps, his feet barely lifting off the floor as he took the stairs with one thing on his mind:
You.
He was looking forward to the moment he would see you again the whole day. It was a sweet motivation that pushed through the demanding rehearsals, keeping him in your head as the dancers made yet another mistake in the choreo they've been practicing for two months now. Maybe he was too harsh on himself and the people working for him, or maybe he was just stressed. Stressed by the lack of your company, your touch, grounding and comforting in a way that had his mind calm and relaxed. Stressed by the fact that tour was starting soon, and nothing was even close to perfection yet.
Nothing but the calmness of the house and your sweet presence that lights his heart up.
The bedroom door clicked softly, and Michael's ears perked up as he saw you, comfortable and spread out on your shared bed, eyes meeting his before he could say a thing. You smiled, soft and warm, your nose crinkling in the most perfect way as you did so, eyes wide and attentive as you took in his exhausted posture.
The room was dark, lit only by the soft glow of the moon peeking through the curtains and the TV playing some shitty, old school show you didn't care about one bit. The moonlight hit your face in the most perfect way, highlighting the color of your eyes and hair, spread around your head like a halo.
Michael's knees buckled as he took you in, grinning despite exhaustion, his arms spreading out and claiming the space without even trying.
"Hi, superstar," You grinned, getting up from the bed to greet him with a hug that meant more than any fame or fortune in the world. Your small arms wrapped around his back, face squishing into his chest to breathe him in, letting his scent cloud your mind.
"I hate you calling me that," He chuckled softly, cradling your head in his hand, bringing you closer until there was no space left between your bodies. Michael hid his nose in your hair, taking in the sweet scent of your shampoo and something different — something so ultimately you, it brought him comfort immediately. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you too, Mikey." You breathe out, gently petting his back. "How're the rehearsals going?"
Michael shrugged, kissing the top of your head, suddenly aware of the tension in his shoulders and back. God, he could use a massage right now.
"Some dancers have trouble remembering the steps. You know, it's... normal. It should be. But it just keeps on annoying me, y'know? I need everything to be perfect by the time tour starts, and instead everything is falling apart right in front of me." He said, slow and shameful, not quite used to being this honest and open, not in that way.
You slowly pulled away from his chest, lips pouted in that specific way that insinuated you were thinking deep about what he had said. You took his hand slowly from where it was rubbing the small of your back through the red t-shirt you were wearing (stolen from Michael's side of the closet). His eyes followed your joined hands, watching as you kissed his knuckles, soft and warm, instantly calming his bubbling nerves and sweating hands.
"Mike, you need to take thing easy." You tilted your head, head turned towards the bed as you slowly led him to climb onto the warm sheets, the mattress moaning under your joined weights.
"I don't ever take things easy."
"That's why I need you to calm down. Take a deep breath. Relax. I know you crave perfection, but baby, things take time. They're eventually gonna get it, it's gonna be fine." You said softly, not trying to disregard his feelings, just being as supportive as you can.
Michael's lips pursed as he leaned back against the headboard, thinking about what you said with careful consideration. He met your eyes with a boyish, gentle smile, patting his lap softly.
"Sit here? Pretty please."
Michael had this innocence in his gaze, and you knew immediately he felt vulnerable in his heart. You took him in: the disheveled hair on the top of his head, loose strands breaking free from his ponytail and falling onto his forehead and eyes. The way his hands reached out to you, like a little kid looking for comfort. The red shirt that sat perfectly on his torso, first few buttons unlocked, droplets of build-up sweat glistening on his chest and neck.
He looked so exhausted, but oh, so beautiful.
You climbed onto his lap, and Michael's arms wrapped around your waist before you had a chance to fully settle. His chest expanded as your legs bracketed his, your smaller body melting into his much bigger one naturally.
"Besides...," You continued, a hint of tease in your voice as you settled in the moment, gentle hands pushing the stray strands of hair away from his face. "No one could ever dance as good as you do."
Michael laughed, the tiniest of tension dripping from his shoulders as he squeezed your waist. He missed this. The warmth coming from your whole body, the comforting touch on his face that kept reminding him of home, those sweet lips of yours that had the ability to make him blush like a teenager.
"That's a bit overboard."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
"Michael, you're the most talented person in the whole world. And I mean it." You narrowed your eyes at him.
He sighed at the praise, melting underneath the weight of your body, his own going slack as your slow, steady hands played with his hair. You curled a piece around your finger, tugging on it ever so gently, causing Michael's hands to twitch on your waist. He not so secretly loved when you did this.
All of the praises he got from his peers and colleagues could never bring him this much joy. This, here, with you, felt real: no fake sympathy, respect that meant nothing behind the closed doors, bows and applauses that didn't matter at the end of the day. This, you, was authentic, real, a connection that was worth more than any fame or respect in the world. He knew that.
"I love you. You're working too hard," You whispered, quieter now, and Michael's long fingers tightened on your waist just a fraction. "I'm so proud of you, baby."
"You're so beautiful. Like an angel. Always taking my breath away," You continued, your fingers tracing the sharp edge of Michael's jaw, then moving up his nose, careful, a small smile playing on your lips as Michael's body twitched underneath you, unconsciously seeking more of the attention. The praises travelled through his whole body, a deeply settled insecurity regarding his appearance slowly melting away as he took in your awed expression.
"Keep— keep talking. Please." He swallowed, leaning into your touch, his face inches away from yours now, embarrassment flooding his body as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.
You felt it, too. Suddenly very aware of your core pressed tightly against his crotch, something you ignored in the moment of fondness but prominent now. You tutted as Michael's arms tightened around your back, breath shallow and eyes clouded with devotion and something deeper beyond the surface — desire.
"You like it when I talk about how pretty you are?" He nodded, desperate, his face rubbing against your palm lovingly. "You are, Mikey. Everything about you is perfect. Like a work of art, only for me to admire, to love, to cherish. I love your eyes. How you look at me like I'm the only one that matters, even in a room full of people. This pretty little nose...," You pecked the tip of it, earning a nervous giggle from Michael. His cheeks turned rosy as you kissed the soft skin there, giving him all of your undivided attention to prove your point. "Those lips. Drive me insane. This beautiful smile, yeah, this one—"
You starting laughing as Michael's lips pressed tightly against yours, heightening your arousal that slowly started to spread across your body as you praised him. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound of your voice, your smile against his lips, that beautiful melody that's your laugh echoing through the room.
Michael whimpered into the kiss, quiet and unfiltered, his hips flexing underneath you as he tugged on your — his — shirt covering your body, already craving the feel of your bare skin against his.
You used your tongue to part Michael's lips, and he obeyed immediately, moaning into your mouth as you licked your way into his, completely taking control over the kiss. You knew Michael needed this, needed the adrenaline that comes with being desired. His brows furrowed as he sinks further into the sheets, hips rising off the mattress to search for the warmth of your sweet cunt on his achingly hard cock.
"I need you, baby—" He sighed into your mouth, and you sucked on his tongue, humming lowly while your hips began to move on their own, the buildup of your desire leaving you grinding down onto his cock. You could feel the outline of him through his pants, big and aching and ready for whatever you'd give him, ready to burst from a simple touch. "O-oh, angel girl—"
"Feels good?" You moan, leaving a wet spot on Michael's pants where you connected over and over again, not pulling away from a second. You fought with the urge to close your eyes, instead tugging on Michael's hair to get him to look at you, at the effect he had on you. "Of course it does. My good boy, always so obedient. What do you think your fans would say if they saw you like this— oh— completely at my mercy? What would they say, Mikey?"
You grinded harder, your hips working in tandem with Michael's, your bodies singing in a beautiful harmony without even trying. Your own words turned you on beyond belief, and they seemed to have the same effect on Michael.
"'m your good boy," He whispered, low and pathetic, his hands shaking with restraint as they rested on your thighs, squeezing and fondling the skin there. "Wanna be good for ya, that's all I want to do, baby—"
"What do you want?" You asked, sharp and firm, your voice dropping lower as your hands travelled down Michael's torso, playing with the buttons of his shirt and undoing them, one by one, slower than Michael would like it. The fabric felt like a barrier, a burden on his skin that was aching to be pressed against yours, but he let you take things slow, instead focusing on playing with the hem of your own shirt.
"Ah, ah, ah," You tutted, hand rising up to rest against Michael's throat, not quite squeezing, just resting there, feeling his pulse against your small palm. He let out a pained sound, half-whisper, half-sob, his hands dropping to his sides and tangling into the sheets. "No touching. Yeah, good boy. You like it when I choke you a little?"
"Yes. Fuck, yes," He groaned, teeth grinding together as you squeezed his throat experimentally, seeing just how far he's willing to take it, and to your surprise, he whined again, surer this time, hips bucking up just a fraction before dropping to the mattress.
"Yeah, you do," You smiled, biting your bottom lip as your hips faltered just a fraction, hips shaking with effort as your high creeped up on you, sudden and unexpected.
And so you stopped.
Michael's loud groan echoed through the room, annoyed, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes. The way he looked at you then sent a shiver down your spine.
Devoted. Completely and utterly under your spell.
Yet still he didn't move. Didn't say a word, didn't rush you, his eye whites showing as he looked at you pitifully, breathing shallow and unsteady.
"What do you want, Mikey? Use that pretty little mouth of yours," You whispered softly, hands moving down his torso to move his shirt out of the way, scratching his skin with your nails with enough pressure to make him hiss.
Your palm experimentally moved over the aching bulge in his pants, feather-like and soft, and it only made Michael's hips buck up into your touch.
"I— I need to feel you— I can't wait anymore," He babbled, words leaving his mouth in a hurry. You rewarded him with a small flick of your hand as it rubbed up and down his length with pressure that was not nearly enough. "Oh God— And I want you to keep talking to me. About how— p-pretty I am— and how proud you are of me— You always take such good care of me, baby, please—"
You smiled, sliding off Michael's lap only to tug on his belt, and he understood immediately what you wanted. His hands shook as they unbuckled the heavy thing, fumbling with the zipper of his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers, not bothering to ask for permission.
His cock sprang free from the confines of his clothing, bobbing in the air freely and then hitting Michael's stomach with a wet sound. He whined — soft, desperate. You could see the effort it took for him to not touch himself, not give into the feeling until you made a move, allowed it.
"So pretty, so, so fucking beautiful," You whispered, taking in the sight in front of you with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. You didn't lie; every inch of Michael was perfect, starting with his perfectly sculpted face, to his lean body, strong thighs, and the cock that sat between them. He was big, flushed, looking as if a simple touch from you could make him come. It looked painful, and you only cooed at the sight.
"Want me to touch you, angel face? Want to cum so bad, don't you, sweetie?"
"Yes, God, yes," He breathed out, and you wasted no time climbing back into his lap, straddling one of the very thighs that drove you insane. Your pussy rubbed against Michael's soft, brown skin as you sat down, leaning in to peck his lips.
"Please."
The way he said it, soft and sweet, his mouth instinctively chasing after yours, made you smile. You kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers tracing soft circles on the skin of his thigh, dangerously close to his aching, throbbing cock.
"So good for me. You can touch me, baby— Yeah, take what you need," You praised him softly, finally giving him the permission to touch you, feel your skin under his fingertips. Slowly, almost painfully so, your palm reached its destination. Michael's own hands travelled up your body, one hand resting on the small of your back, the other sliding up to hold your hair out of your face while you kissed him. His touch was firm but delicate, claiming your body without taking control, letting you take the initiative without a word of protest.
Your fingers wrapped around his girthy cock with undeniable precision, the one that came from knowing his body way too well. Michael whined into your mouth, his hips bucking up into your palm, a soft cry leaving his mouth right after. He was on edge, and you knew it.
"Such a good boy. You're doing so perfect for me, look at how well you're taking me," You whispered against his lips, your hand beginning to stroke him slowly, your wrist flicking in a way that you knew drove Michael crazy. Your thumb rubbed against his sensitive slit with each movement, and Michael sighed, eyes rolling back into his head.
Your lips disconnected as soon as you began your little demonstrations on his dick, a string of saliva still connecting the two of you long after he pulled away. His head fell back against the headboard, eyes half-lidded, clouded with lust and ultimate devotion.
"So good, ma," He whined, licking his lips as you sped up, just enough to make him dizzy and hot. Michael's body shook underneath you, his hold on you tightening just a fraction, letting you know just how much he enjoyed it.
"I know, baby, you're so hard for me, so fucking big. You're practically drooling, that's what a little attention does to you, huh? Falling apart so prettily for me. You're so pathetic it's cute," You said, voice fond and affectionate even when your words did nothing but humiliate him. Michael's body shook as your hand became a blur, your pace suddenly changed into something charged with animalistic desire — desire to watch him fall apart.
"I'm so close, don't you—"
"I know, angel boy, I'm not stopping, I'm right here—"
"I love you so much, oh God, I love you—"
"What do you need, Mikey?" You flicked your wrist in the right way, watching his face confront in pleasure, your hand beginning to hurt from the rough, demanding pace you've set. You couldn't stop, though, no: not when Michael's hips began to thrust up into your hand and his soft sobs echoed through the room.
"Can you— can you put your hand there— oh— jus' need a little more," He silently begged with his eyes, interlocking your fingers with his and bringing them to his neck. You immediately knew what was going on.
He truly needed for you to choke him in order to reach his peak.
And so you obeyed. You applied a little pressure to his pulse point, squeezing the sides of his throat in the most delicious way, feeling his Adam's apple bob as you did.
You squeezed harder, checking Michael's face for any type of discomfort, but all you could see was utter, devoted pleasure. His eyes rolled back into his head, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead, and his chest glistened in the moonlight, heaving with every, choked up breath he took. The feeling of your hand on his dick was like no other: your grip was as tight as a glove, not as tight as your pussy, but enough to make him lose his mind.
"You like it when I do this, don't you?" You punctuated your words with a tight squeeze to the base of his cock and his throat, pulling his foreskin down to have him as sensitive as possible. Michael whined — a pained, desperate sob from somewhere deep in his chest that made your pussy throb against his leg. "You carry the whole world on your shoulders. You work so hard. Let me take care of you the way you deserve, baby."
"I'm right there," He moaned through another sob that shook his whole body, his hand clawing at the one squeezing his throat. He wasn't trying to push you away, just anchoring himself in the moment, needing to feel the warmth of your skin against his palm. "I'm right there, angel—"
"Yeah, take it. Take it like a good boy, that's right—"
Your hand movements became a blur, palm hitting his lower abdomen with every stroke, every squeeze to his length, bursting and twitching in your palm. He wouldn't need much to unravel, and you knew it.
"C-can you kiss me, baby? Please, I need to—"
You wouldn't let him finish, immediately crashing your lips onto his with force that pushed the air out of his lungs. Michael immediately granted you access to the inside of his mouth, moaning and whimpering, loud and unfiltered, completely consumed by the pleasure surging through his body. The kiss was messy, your saliva mixing and stretching between your willing mouths when you pulled away for a breather. It dropped between you, right onto the tip of his cock, and Michael hissed, his whole body shaking as he neared that familiar peak.
"Come for me, angel boy," You whispered, knowing just how much he loved the nickname, your hand moving from his throat to grab a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back to watch every moment of his pleasure.
"I'm coming, ma, I can't hold it, I'm—"
"Yeah, good boy, such a good fucking boy, give it to me—"
Michael's back arched off the mattress, hips bucking wildly as his own body betrayed him, a gasp that sounded pained leaving his swollen lips. The first spurt of his white, sticky seed made you chuckle, watching him make a mess of himself. Your hand movements never slowed — not for a second, guiding him through the moment, your lips crashing onto his in a mess of saliva and teeth clashing, but neither of you cared. Michael pulled you closer by the hips, his grip almost painfully tight, his cum staining his expensive shirt, your hand and his chest. It was messy, and it was perfect, and it was never ending — a spurt after spurt, each one weaker than the last, but nonetheless intense.
"So good, let it out, just like that, baby," You cooed softly, continuing to stroke him through every aftershock, and Michael cried out, overstimulated to the limit, his whole body trembling underneath you.
"I can't— take no more," He whispered, soft, broken, some fresh tears staining his tears, and he looked so beautiful you wanted nothing more than to devour him whole.
"It's okay, angel face, it's okay."
"I love you. I love you so much, baby, you're doing so good," You stopped your movements altogether, even though his cock still stood tall, some droplets of cum leaking from his tip, and you collected them with the pad of your finger, bringing them to your lips with a moan. Michael sobbed softly, following the movements of your mouth with his teary eyes as you sucked on your finger, licking the remains of his cum theatrically, with intention to drive him insane again.
"Tastes so good, too. Want to try?" You moaned, and Michael's hands tightened on your thighs just a fraction, offering you a shy nod of his head.
You took two of your fingers, then, dragging them through the mess he made on his chest, collecting some of the pearly cum and immediately bringing them to his lips. You padded on Michael's bottom lip, and he obeyed immediately, granting you access. His tongue lolled out, eyes wide and cheeks rosy as your fingers snuck into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue only to watch him squirm and moan.
"Good boy. Don't you taste fucking good?" You tilted your head as Michael's lips wrapped around your digits, his brows furrowing as the tasted himself on you.
Michael both hated and loved how much this aroused him.
You caressed his cheek slowly, lovingly, watching as he came down, finding comfort in the weight of your fingers on his tongue. He eventually came down, his body melting into the mattress as he settled. You slowly withdrawed your digits, bringing Michael closer and letting him rest his head on your chest. Your unsteady heartbeat was the only thing he could focus on.
"I love you," He mumbled lowly, his face rubbing against your t-shirt in a way that immediately made you melt. "I love you, I love you, I love you—"
You laughed, out of breath, kissing the crown of his head lovingly. "And I love you. Feeling better?"
You caressed his hair, letting him wrap his arms around you and bring you impossibly closer.
"Never better."
a/n: i apologise. or not. planning to make him even whinier and more pathetic in the upcoming fics. not sorry for that either.
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.
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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
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.
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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
ik i said i'd shorten it but this is the most i could do
requested by anon !!
the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, the entire night seemed to catch up to him at once.
jaafar let out a long breath, one hand reaching for the collar of his dress shirt while the other stayed planted on your waist.
the city lights outside spilled through the massive windows in blurred streaks of gold and white, reflecting softly against the marble countertops and dark furniture of the suite.
somewhere below, traffic moved in distant waves, muffled this high up. the air conditioning hummed quietly overhead, cool against your skin after hours spent in crowded rooms, camera flashes, and too many people.
but the room itself felt warm.
maybe because of him.
his suit jacket hung loose off one shoulder now, the fabric wrinkled from the car ride back and from your hands. his tie hung loose around his neck, completely undone, and the first few buttons of his shirt had come open at some point between the elevator and the room.
he looked too good.
you kicked your heels off near the door with a dull clack against the floor before looking back at him.
jaafar was already staring.
leaning against the edge of the dresser with one hand braced behind him, shirt slightly untucked, while his eyes followed you through the room with absolutely no shame.
his gaze dragged over you slowly as you crossed the room toward him, the silk fabric of your dress shifting softly against your skin with every step, catching the warm amber light spilling from the lamps beside the bed.
“stop looking at me like that,” you murmured.
a lazy grin pulled at the corner of his mouth.
“give me a reason to look anywhere else.”
you rolled your eyes, but the distance between you closed instantly as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you in. his palm felt warm through the thin fabric of your dress.
“see?” he whispered, his eyes dipping to your lips. “you can’t.”
your pulse quickened. it always did when he looked at you like this.
the expensive black dress shirt stretched across his chest as he leaned back against the dresser, sleeves rolled carelessly to his forearms.
his eyes looked darker than usual, heavy-lidded and intensely focused on you.
“you’re quiet,” he murmured after a moment.
your fingers drifted to the satin hanging around his collar, smoothing it between your fingers.
“so are you.”
a quiet breath left him through his nose before his eyes flicked back to your face.
“that’s because i’m trying very hard to behave.”
fighting a smile, you tilted your head slightly. “behave from what?”
amusement flickered across his face. “you know exactly what,” his voice had gone rough enough to send heat crawling down your spine.
you pretended to think for a second before narrowing your eyes at him dramatically.
“no,” you said thoughtfully. “i don’t think i do.”
jaafar just looked at you for a second, already fully aware you were messing with him.
you only smiled innocently back.
then his hands tightened around your waist before he pulled your hips flush against his.
and you felt it.
to say he was turned on would have been putting it lightly. you could feel the firm, demanding heat of him burning through his slacks.
“still confused?” he murmured.
your fingers stilled against the satin hanging loose around his neck. you didn’t answer right away. instead, you gave the ends of the fabric a slow, deliberate tug, bringing his face just inches from yours while a small, knowing smirk played on your lips.
jaafar studied your face for a second, his own grin fading into a look of cautious amusement.
“i know that look. you’re up to something.”
“maybe i am,” you hummed, flashing him an innocent smile before sliding your hand down to take his.
jaafar let you pull him away from the dresser with little resistance, following you over to the bed. he settled back against the headboard, one arm draped loosely over the pillows behind him as he watched you climb into his lap.
your dress rode higher against your thighs, the silk bunching slightly as your knees settled on either side of him. his hands found your hips again without hesitation.
you leaned in first, kissing him softly. both of your eyes fluttered shut almost immediately. the kiss stayed lazy at first – slow and unhurried. your lips moved against his, tongues brushing while jaafar kissed you back with a quiet eagerness that made warmth curl in your stomach.
you felt his fingers push into the supple skin of your waist as you kissed him harder, your hands sliding up his chest to grip at the collar of his shirt. it was intimate, wet, and slow like you were trying to coax each other to open up.
a quiet sound slipped from him at the feeling – soft and breathy.
your stomach tightened at that.
you loved watching his composure slip piece by piece whenever you touched him like this.
his hands drifted lower after, settling against the tops of your thighs while you shifted against him. the movement made your dress ride up further, until the only thing separating you and jaafar was his pants and your underwear. with one fluid motion, you shifted forward just enough that your center pressed flush against him.
his breath caught in his throat, fingers tightening at your waist. his hips pushed up without permission, grinding against you once – slow and filthy until the friction stole your own breath away.
jaafar caught your bottom lip with his teeth, nipping and tugging slightly, coaxing a breathy gasp from you. your hands slid down his chest just enough to gather the fabric of his shirt, gripping the collar tightly as your hips rose involuntarily into his grasp. his grip on your waist grew tighter, falling lower to hold the tops of your thighs. he pulled you even closer to him until you sat back completely on him, your weight resting against his hips.
you could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing directly into you.
you guided your kisses lower, mouth brushing the edge of his jaw.
his head tipped back slightly on instinct, exposing the long stretch of his throat to you like a silent invitation. and you accepted it.
you pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the sharp edge of his jaw, then another. his skin was hot. the second your lips met his skin, a low groan slipped from his throat.
your lips dragged along his jaw, your tongue flicking out to taste the warmth of his skin, the faint smell of his cologne clinging to his neck. he was so warm beneath you, his muscles tense, holding his breath like he was waiting to see if you'd stop.
you wouldn't, of course
you trailed lower, your mouth lingering on the smooth line of his throat. you pressed your lips wider against the sensitive skin just below his ear, sucking lightly just to feel him shudder beneath you.
you trailed the kisses lower, on his neck, down to his chest.
he rocked up again, a little more firmly this time. he was grinding you down now, hands tight on your waist, dragging you over the length of him like he needs the friction or he's going to lose it.
you bit your lip.
he was so hard already, it was ridiculous, and you were soaked. the damp material of your panties clung to your slit like a second skin, and with every slow grind, your clit caught just right on the thick ridge of him.
you felt dizzy.
drunk on the sensation.
your breath got stuck somewhere high in your chest, and all you can do was move with him – rolling your hips, letting him pull you back and forth over him.
“you feel…” jaafar groaned again, his eyes fluttering shut. his head dropped back onto the pillows as another roll of his hips met yours. “...god, you feel so good like this.”
your fingers gripped his collar. you were panting now, lips parted, flushed all the way to your chest.
your clit was throbbing, your thighs trembling.
all you were doing was rocking against him, barely more than dry humping, but even then, the friction was already too much.
you leaned in again, brushing you lips beneath his ear, and jaafar shuddered beneath you. his grip on your waist grew bruisingly firm, like he’s doing everything in his power to ground himself.
“feel that?” he mutters low against your shoulder, his breath ragged. “that’s what you do to me.”
you swallowed hard, head spinning. you couldn’t even bring yourself to answer.
you just leaned in again, kissing down the length of his throat while he kept rocking you, grinding you down like he’s trying to get you both off without taking a single layer of clothes off.
you couldn’t stop.
but you couldn’t let him keep setting the pace.
still catching your breath, you slid your palms down his arms, over the sleeves stretched across his biceps and along his exposed forearms, your fingertips skimming the faint veins beneath his skin.
he watched you with lips parted, chest heaving, his brows pulling together when you finally reached down and took him firmly by the wrists.
“what are you doing?” he murmured, his voice thick and rough.
you only leaned in to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back.
your fingers found the satin tie hanging loose around his neck. the fabric felt cool and smooth against his skin as you wrapped it carefully around his wrists once… then twice.
jaafar looked down at his captured wrists, his mind finally putting two and two together. you could see the exact moment the haze vanished from his mind. when he looked back up, a hunger flared in his eyes, his gaze darkening completely as his chest began to rise and fall in a much slower, deeper rhythm.
“baby,” the word came out half-laugh, half-disbelief.
you tilted your head innocently. “what?”
“you can’t be serious,” he breathed.
your fingers slid along his wrists gently before guiding his arm backward toward the headboard. the hotel sheets rustled underneath him as he leaned back slightly to let you move him where you wanted. his eyes never left your face once.
the room felt quieter than before.
smaller somehow and more intimate.
you looped the tie around the bedframe carefully before tightening the knot just enough to hold.
you felt him again– how hard he was underneath you. how close he was to snapping. jaafar flexed his wrist experimentally against the satin before letting out a soft, disbelieving laugh under his breath. he was so hard, his cock twitching under you.
“oh my god,” he muttered.
you only smiled.
“you’re scary.”
but his voice came out quieter now, warmer. because, despite the words, he was looking at you like he wanted you to keep going.
you leaned forward, resting your palms flat against his chest and letting your full weight settle into his lap. the sudden, close heat of your body made him let out a low, rough grunt.
his jaw clenched so tight a small muscle ticked in his cheek, his eyes half-lidded as they locked onto yours.
“you’re driving me insane, baby,” he rasped, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly tone that sent a shiver straight down your spine.
“i’m just taking my time,” you hummed, sliding your hands slowly down the front of his shirt.
you popped the remaining buttons open one by one, your fingertips brushing over the warm, smooth skin of his chest. every time your nails lightly scraped over his skin, his breath hitched, his chest rising in sharp, shallow swells beneath your palms.
leaning down, you let your breath brush against his lips, but you didn't kiss him right away. you hovered there, teasing him, until jaafar groaned and lifted his head off the pillows to try and close the distance himself. he couldn't quite reach, straining forward with a quiet huff of frustration.
a triumphant little smile pulled at your mouth. you rewarded him then, capturing his lips in a kiss that was no longer lazy.
it was deep and demanding.
jaafar poured all his energy into the movement of his mouth, his tongue tangling with yours with a desperate eagerness. he was completely matching your rhythm now, his chest heaving under your hands as you broke the kiss to trail your mouth down his chin.
you shifted on top of him, straddling his thighs, the soft press of your inner thighs brushing his trousers as you steadied yourself. all you could feel was him straining under you, bound above, eyes glassy with need.
he tried to jerk upward again, wrists flexing hard against the satin tie. it tightened with the tension, tugging against the frame, but it held.
and the way he groaned when he realized he couldn't move – when it finally sank that he couldn’t reach for you, couldn’t pull you closer, couldn’t take the lead the way he usually did.
it sent a shiver straight through you,
a pulse.
a throb.
a wicked ache that bloomed between your legs and crawled up your spine.
he was completely at your mercy.
your hands slid slowly up his chest again, spreading the panels of his dress shirt wider.
it was rumpled at his sides now, bunched in messy folds under your knees, completely open from the collar down to his waist.
you let out a soft, breathless laugh, looking down at the result.
jaafar couldn’t have cared less about the state of his clothes.
he was only looking at you.
“you’re terrible,” he groaned.
he had a smile, tugging at the corner of his mouth. teeth caught on his bottom lip.
but the second your mouth returned to his chest, his smile disappeared.
he was burning hot under your lips, his chest smooth and firm. you kissed down his sternum, open-mouthed, dragging your tongue along the hard dip between his muscles, feeling every shudder of his body as he struggled to stay still for you.
his stomach jerked, contracting sharply when you nipped the sensitive skin just above his navel.
your hands followed, nails grazing lightly down his sides.
“my god,” he breathed, his head slamming back against the pillow. “you’re–”
you glanced up again.
he was panting now, his pupils swallowing nearly all of the dark warmth in his eyes. his lips were parted, swollen, and you watched the muscle in his jaw lock as he tried to keep himself completely still because he knew you wanted him to.
and then you popped the metal clasp of his trousers.
his body tensed. a full-body shudder ripping through him, his hips fighting not to thrust straight into your hands.
you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and tugged the zipper down just enough, the smooth, metallic glide sending another wave of liquid heat rolling through your core. you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his dark briefs and pulled his dick out into the open air.
oh fuck.
he was thick, swollen, and visibily twitching against his abdomen.
at the tip, a bead of pre-cum had already bloomed, glistening against the flushed skin.
you swore you saw it pulse.
your mouth went completely dry.
there was something so intensely obscene about the sight of him like this – the way he was already leaking for you, the head straining for attention.
begging to be touched.
begging for your hands, your mouth, anything.
you settled your weight right back onto his thighs.
your own panties clung to you, soaked completely through, clinging tight between your lips from how wet you were.
but instead of pulling back, you ground down.
slowly.
your soaked panties met the leaking head of his cock, and the contact was electric.
it hit your clit just right, rubbing against the stiff, burning ridge beneath you, and you both moaned at the same time.
jaafar bucked upward on instinct, tugging on the satin tie. the restraint held firm, keeping his arms anchored and trapping him under your weight.
“oh my god– ,” he gasped, his voice breaking halfway through.
his eyes snapped open, locked onto yours, completely undone but still trying to hold your gaze. “what are you– shit, baby, please–”
“shhh,” you whispered, leaning forward to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth.
his lips chased yours with a desperate eagerness, but you were already pulling away.
you rolled your hips again.
slower, deeper, dragging your soaked heat across the full length of his cock like it was nothing.
“god– you’re gonna– ” his voice dissolved into a strained rasp.
his wrists pulled back hard against the satin tie, the muscles across his chest and shoulders flexing as his breath hitched deep in his throat.
“you’re so hard,” you whispered softly, rocking your hips against him again. “you’re dripping.”
your panties were grinding directly against his bare skin, slick, warm, and filthy between you.
the damp silk of your underwear smeared the mess directly over his head, spreading his pre-cum across both of you until everything felt friction-soaked and slippery.
“don’t say it like that,” he muttered, his jaw clenching as he tried to lift his hips upward to meet you.
you moaned this time, the sound catching in your throat.
the contact hit your sweet spot too perfectly. your body was starting to throb from the inside out.
your thighs trembled slightly as you moved again, your clit grinding along that burning, swollen ridge.
you leaned down to kiss his jaw, trailing your mouth along his neck. you bit down gently just below his ear as you rolled your hips in another slow, deliberate circle.
when he let out a wrecked groan, you felt the vibration of it low in your belly, twisting everything tight.
you were soaked.
your pussy found the exact shape of him, and you settled there, pressing down slowly, letting your full weight sink into his lap until the thick ridge of his cock was nestled snug against your folds.
it was too much and not enough all at once.
you stilled for a second. you felt him pulse hard against you.
you felt your own arousal spill, hot and thick, soaking the fabric of your underwear until it grew slippery beneath you. even with the layer separating you, it felt like he was everywhere.
jaafar’s breath stuttered.
you glanced up, and his face was completely undone. his head was tipped back against the pillows, his jaw clenched so tight a sharp muscle ticked in his cheek.
the tension in his upper body was immense, his sleeves bunched around his forearms as his arms remained taut against the bedframe, but he didn't move.
he just took it.
“shit, baby,” he whispered, his voice raw and gravelly. “you’re so wet… i can feel it. i can feel everything.”
“yeah?” you breathed, leaning forward until your palms pressed flat against his bare chest.
his skin was hot under your hands, his heart hammering hard enough that you could feel the rhythmic thud against your fingertips.
you ground again, slower this time, a deep, heavy roll that made your clit throb and your jaw tremble.
it was so messy now.
the squelch of your slick catching every time your pussy slid over his skin.
all he could do was watch you through half-lidded eyes.
he jerked once, but the satin tie binding his wrists held him firm.
“please,” he choked out, his eyes squeezing shut as his head turned into the pillow. “please, baby... if you keep doing that, i’m gonna–i can’t–”
you tightened your thighs, dragging yourself forward one last time, letting the tip of his cock press right beneath your clit. you held the pressure there, freezing in place.
you just felt him pulse.
you wanted him to lose his mind.
you wanted him to break completely.
but more than that, you wanted to ride that exact edge – watching every stutter of his hips, every ragged breath, while he fought against the restraints and begged for something you weren't ready to give him yet.
jaafar let out a quiet, broken whimper.
it punched straight to your core.
your hips faltered, your rhythm stuttering as a rush of heat flooded through you. you couldn’t help the sharp gasp that slipped out of your lips, your body shuddering as the head of his cock dragged just right over your sweet spot. you were close, too.
embarrassingly close.
“please,” jaafar begged again, his voice entirely broken this time. “baby, please, let me touch you… i need to… you’re gonna make me cum just like this–”
you sat up straighter, your hips still grinding in slow circles as you braced your hands on his stomach. he was flushed, panting, his wrists twisted uselessly above him. his cock twitched under your gaze, smeared entirely slick from where you had been grinding over him.
his skin flushed a deeper shade, stretched over the hard lines of his chest and abdomen. his abs twitched sharply when your fingers traced lightly down his ribs, catching the deep shiver that ran through his entire frame.
you bent forward again, slower this time.
you pressed your lips back to the heat of his lower stomach, your mouth open, your tongue dragging with slow intent. his cock rested just above your face now, so close that the swollen head brushed your cheek when you shifted your weight. your hands slid up the thick muscle of his thighs, your nails grazing lightly as you went.
he was panting through gritted teeth. you breathed against the head of his cock, and his entire stomach jerked. he tested the bound satin again, but the tie remained tight.
you met his gaze, your lips curling into a slow, smug smile.
then, without warning, you finally took him into your mouth.
just the tip.
just enough for your lips to slip warm and wet around the head of his cock, letting it rest heavy on your tongue.
jaafar groaned, sounding like even the lightest touch of your mouth was almost too much for him to take.
you pulled back slightly, letting him fall from your lips with a quiet wet pop.
his hips jerked instinctively, straining upward toward your face
you glanced up, watching the smooth muscles in his forearms tense against the fabric.
your fingers curled loosely around the base of his shaft, just enough to anchor him, your thumb stroking lightly over the thick ridge on the underside. your mouth hovered over the tip, close enough that your breath fanned out in steady, warm pulses, making the bead of pre-cum glisten even more.
you dragged your tongue along the slit.
slow and delicate.
just a taste.
he let out a choked noise that made your own thighs clench again.
then you did it again — slower this time, the flat of your tongue dragging down the head, tracing along the swollen rim before circling back up to the top.
you watched him twitch beneath you, watched the muscles in his stomach ripple and his chest rise in short, shallow bursts.
“shit, baby—” he grits out, his voice completely strained, his eyes squeezed shut.
you hummed softly against his skin, your mouth ghosting over the flushed head as if you were savoring it.
you pressed an open-mouthed kiss right to the tip.
then another, and another, working your way around him in slow, teasing circles.
your saliva mixed with his pre-cum, warm and sticky as your lips smeared across the head. you never took more than just the top inch into your mouth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of more.
“you’re killing me,” he groaned, tugging hard against the satin. “please–”
you looked up at him, your eyes bright. “please what?”
he swallowed, his throat working as he tried not to break completely. “please suck me. let me in your mouth.”
you smiled before dragging your tongue hard against the underside of the head, dragging it down with unbearable pressure.
you gathered saliva in your mouth, lubricating the shaft before wrapping your hand around the base.
once you were satisfied, your hand started to move, stroking the thick length with a lazy pace.
his hips twitched, his mouth falling open. “oh my fucking god.”
you took him again, a little deeper this time, lips wrapping snug as you sucked shallowly in soft, rhythmic pulls that made his back arch and his voice crack.
he was panting now, moaning under his breath like the sound was being ripped out of him.
you held his gaze, unblinking, and went even slower.
you let him slide out of your mouth, saliva stringing from your lips to the tip, before kissing your way back down to the base. every few seconds, you returned to the tip again, like it was the first time, making him work for every bit of attention.
he groaned, hands fisting helplessly against the headboard. finally, you opened your mouth wide and started to take him deeper.
slow.
so fucking slow.
the stretch made your jaw ache immediately, but you kept going, your hand stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.
his voice was breaking with every sound, and you felt the vibration straight in your core.
he twitched against your tongue, leaking even more as his hips strained up into the heat of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks and sucked harder, then eased up, dragging your mouth back with a long, slow pull until just the tip rested on your tongue.
his dark eyes found yours, wild and desperate with need.
you smiled sweetly and slid down deep again, pulling off gradually while dragging your tongue along the entire underside.
you made sure he felt every ridge and every flick.
your hand started moving again, wrapping tightly around the base.
his hips twitched, his mouth falling open as he tried not to break completely under the pressure.
“oh my god.”
he was panicking in the best way.
his hips jerked uselessly while his bound arms fought against the tension in his shoulders. the tie didn’t budge.
he was entirely helpless.
it was obvious he wasn’t used to being this wrecked from so little.
you licked a stripe up the underside of his cock, base to tip, then swirled your tongue once around the head before dragging your lips off him, slow and merciless.
“you like that?” you murmured against the shaft, your breath hot.
he nodded frantically, his jaw clenched tight. you gave him a teasing stroke of your thumb back up his slick shaft, and he writhed beneath you, his whole body tense and trembling.
he was beautiful like this.
tied up and completely unraveling right in front of you
a sheen of sweat glistened along his hairline, his lips parted and red as he tried not to cum just from this.
and then you gave him what he had been begging for.
you wrapped your mouth around him again and sank, going past that two-inch mark. you sank slower, letting your throat stretch around the thick shape of him as your hand gripped his base, guiding him all the way in.
his moan was guttural, torn straight from his chest. his legs shook. he tried to lift his hips and failed against the tight restraint, choking out a desperate, “baby, please–”
you moaned around him in response, the deep vibration buzzing through every inch of him, and his whole body broke. he was leaking down your throat, twitching uncontrollably, his thighs trembling against your shoulders as his mouth gasped open.
you pulled back slowly. you kissed the tip one more time like an apology, then rested your cheek against his thigh, letting him think he was getting a moment to recover. his chest heaved in broken, shallow bursts. his arms were still flexed and trembling, his knuckles pale from how hard he was gripping at nothing.
you smiled, not even pretending to be sorry. you watched the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his chest for just a beat before you slowly leaned back down, refusing to give him time to actually catch his breath.
your mouth returned to the head of his cock, slow and reverent, before you pushed forward until you felt the stretch again. the thickness of him pressed to the very back of your tongue, your lips stretched tight around the base of the head. your jaw ached, but the way he sounded like he was breaking apart under your tongue turned you on too much to stop.
he was muttering now, nonsensical praise and filth tangled together. “so good, baby, so good, that’s it, deeper– take it, yeah, just like that…”
your throat fluttered in protest, the heat and thickness pressing deep. you pulled back with a wet gasp, letting the crown rest heavy on your tongue while you sucked in two quick breaths.
jaafar watched you, his chest rising in hard, shaky swells. “you’re doin’ so good, baby,” he murmured, voice completely raw. “look at you.”
the praise made your core clench around nothing.
determined, you leaned forward, your tongue flattening beneath his weight as your lips slid lower. another inch, then another, past the soft give of your throat until you flinched, pulling back instinctively with a sharp gag.
your eyes watered as you sucked in air.
“easy,” jaafar soothed, his wrists twisting against the satin bound to the bedframe. “don’t rush. just breathe.
you nodded and lowered your mouth again.
guiding him with your hand as you eased your mouth open around him, taking him deeper inch by inch. you could feel every ridge, every twitch of his cock, dragging hot against your tongue.
tears stung the corners of your eyes as the tip pressed into that deep spot again. you paused there, breathing shallowly as your body adjusted. your thighs squeezed together, achingly wet from his breathless noises and the weight of him stretching your throat.
jaafar’s voice was thick with restraint.
“that’s it, baby… god, you’re taking me so well.”
you whimpered around him, a choked sound that made his cock jerk in your mouth. you gripped the base tighter and pushed down a little further. every time you hit your limit, you pulled back just enough to breathe before trying again.
“mouth’s too good, baby,” he gritted out. “you’re gonna make me lose it.”
finally, your throat gave.
jaafar choked. “oh– there you go.” his voice cracked. “there you go.”
his head dropped back, his eyes rolling up as his whole body twitched. his hips jolted slightly, but he froze immediately after, fighting every instinct not to fuck up into your mouth.
he was buried so deep you couldn’t even hum, your throat trembling around the intrusion.
you pulled back slowly, your jaw trembling by the time you finally slipped off him and gasped for air.
jaafar was completely wrecked – his face flushed dark, his hair damp with sweat, chest rising in uneven breaths.
you met his gaze, your own tear-lined.
you kept your eyes locked onto his as you immediately slid right back down, your hand wrapping around his base, slick and warm.
his groan vibrated through the mattress.
your mouth was stuffed so full that your jaw felt like it was about to cramp.
he threw his head back into the pillow, groaning so loud it vibrated through the mattress. "baby, don’t move. please don't–”
you froze, letting your throat flutter helplessly around him. you could feel the way the tight confinement drove him crazy, his hips twitching with the urge to thrust.
then, you started to move again, pulling back with a slick, obscene sound. you caught your breath in a wet gasp and then sank back down just as slowly.
you let your hands get completely filthy, smearing the copious amounts of his own pre-cum until the noise between his thighs was a constant, heavy squelch that filled the quiet room.
jaafar’s eyes heavy-lidded as he watched you completely dismantle him. “shit, you’re making such a mess,” he hitched, his bound wrists twisting weakly against the satin.
his jaw fell completely open. a high, broken whimper leaked out of him, his dark eyes rolling back so far only the whites showed for a second. “so good—baby, please, just like that, right there—”
you used your thumb to aggressively smear his own leaking fluid right over the sensitive slit at the tip.
his abdomen locked. the muscles went completely rigid, a violent tremor passing from his chest straight down to his knees. he didn't even have the breath to scream.
his chest just stayed puffed up, frozen, as the first thick pulse erupted from him, painting his stomach. a low, gravelly groan finally scraped out of his throat, his bound arms straining against the headboard as his body turned itself inside out.
but you didn't let him descend. you didn't give him that grace.
while he was still actively pulsing, your hand kept going — slower now, but heavier, dragging friction over skin that had just become a raw nerve.
jaafar’s eyes snapped open, instantly pooling with tears from the sheer, unadulterated shock of the sensitivity.
“no, no, wait. please, hold on–” he thrashed, his hips trying to sink back into the mattress to escape your hands.
“i know,” you whispered against his jaw, your voice dripping with artificial sympathy. “i know, baby.”
you twisted your palm over the head, a wet, bruising rotation that completely short-circuited his recovery. his legs shook violently as his nervous system misfired. before the first orgasm had even cleared his chest, his hips jolted upward in a second, desperate spasm. another wave forced its way out of him, completely unprompted, a pathetic, weeping sob tearing from his lungs as he came twice in less than a minute.
he was practically hyperventilating now, his mouth working silently as he fought for oxygen, the corners of his eyes leaking fat tears that tracked down into his hair. he looked completely ruined, entirely used.
the mess on your hands was obscene now, a thick, white-streaked lacquer of his own seed that made every stroke sound incredibly vulgar. you picked the pace right back up, showing no mercy to his overstimulated body, your fingers wrapping tight around the base to milk him completely dry.
“i can’t–” he cried out, his voice completely broken, his fingers twitching helplessly against the satin knots.
“you’re doing so well for me,” you cooed, your thumb tracing the underside of his head over and over until a clear, thin fluid started to steadily leak out, mixing with the heavy mess on your palms.
the overload took over entirely. he couldn't even form words anymore – only high, pathetic, rhythmic whines escaped him as his third climax hit, a deep, full-body shudder that left him completely paralyzed. you handled him roughly through the entire peak, forcing every last drop out of his trembling length before your hand finally came to a heavy rest over his slick skin.
jaafar stared blankly at the ceiling, his chest heaving in broken, shallow hitches. his skin was burning to the touch, drenched in sweat, his eyes glazed as tremors continued to move through him.
slowly, you shifted off his thighs and knelt by his head. the sharp edge from before was gone now, replaced by a heavy exhaustion.
“hey,” you murmured softly, brushing a damp curl away from his forehead.
a low, breathy hum came from his throat. he turned his head, blinking up at you through a lingering haze.
your fingers reached up to the headboard, patiently working at the tight knots. the second the tie fell loose, jaafar let out a long, shaky sigh.
he lowered his arms with a quiet wince, faint red marks circling his wrists.
he reached for you, his large, warm hand reached up, gently cradling the back of your neck to draw you down.
you collapsed against his chest, burying your face in the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped securely around your waist, holding you close.
“god, baby...” he whispered against your hair, his voice rough and quiet.
a tired laugh escaped him, the sound vibrating softly through his chest. “i think you actually broke me.”
you let out a soft laugh, peppering slow, soft kisses all over his cheek and jaw.
“sorry.”
the words might have sounded more convincing if you weren't smiling.
“yeah, keep smiling,” he said, the threat completely ruined by how exhausted he sounded.
“just wait until i can use my hands again.”
───୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
this was wayyyyy longer than i wanted it to be
idk if i'm happy w/ it, but i hope u guys enjoyed it regardless :D
it’s a blacked out blur but i’m pretty sure it ruled, damn
pairing 𝜗𝜚 jaafar jackson x fem!black!reader
synopsis 𝜗𝜚 going to a house party one of your close friends was hosting seemed like a pretty good idea. that was until you woke in bed with your half-naked best friend.
warnings 𝜗𝜚 awkward morning after talk maybe, implied sex, jaafar is bigger than the reader, but it’s only mentioned once
authors note 𝜗𝜚 writing this made me wanna write a jermajesty fic, so a jermajesty fic is coming soon! & i didn’t know how to end this so i hate the ending
word count 𝜗𝜚 1.4k
𝔂our head was pounding, you had no clue what time it was, and you were in a bedroom you knew all too well. jaafar’s. like, your best friend jaafar’s bedroom.
all you remember from last night was arriving at a house party your friend was hosting and drinking until you nearly forgot your own name. at some point throughout the night, you were throwing back shots as if they were water and partying as a girl should on a friday night.
you feel the sheets shift beside you and you don’t have to turn your head to know who’s there. you still do anyway, and you see jaafar as you expected. the only problem was that he was shirtless.
your best friend was shirtless in bed next to you, only being dressed in grey sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips. looking at your own outfit, you come to realize that the shirt and boxers you’re wearing belong to jaafar.
you don’t have to be a genius to put the pieces together and realize that you and jaafar definitely crossed the line of your friendship last night. “what the fuck,” you mutter.
“what?” he asks, like his brain still hasn’t woken up yet.
“what the fuck,” you repeat yourself. this time it’s louder and the panic in your voice is evident.
you slept with your best friend last night. your friendship was definitely ruined and now you’re going to have to avoid him and his entire family. scratch your friendship being ruined, your entire life is now ruined.
“you good?” he questions, rushing to sit up due to the hysteria in your voice.
“no, i’m not good. what happened last night?”
his body relaxes upon hearing your question, like your worries are minuscule after all. “oh. we fucked while we were both drunk,” he responds coolly.
“please tell me you’re lying.”
jaafar has the nerve to laugh. he laughs as if the two of you weren’t in a crisis right now. “i’m so serious. you was all on me, girl.”
you groan and rub both your hands up and down your face. maybe if you try hard enough, you can erase the events of last night and act like your and jaafar’s friendship was normal again.
“ain’t nothing to be embarrassed about,” he pulls one of your arms down by your wrist, revealing half of your face. bashful. “i was all over you, too.”
you groan even louder because his words don’t make the situation any better. they do nothing to placate your nerves about sleeping with him.
“jaafar, our friendship is literally over now. i have everything to be embarrassed about,” you grumble.
“our friendship definitely is over,” you could die where you sat in his bed right now. “‘cause you gotta be mine. we can’t be friends after last night.”
you drop your other hand that was covering your face, fully looking at him for the first time since you woke up. he looked earnest, like he was completely serious about being with you.
it wasn’t like you didn’t believe him. but hearing your best friend that you’ve been harboring a crush on basically say that he wanted to be in a relationship with you wasn’t something to be taken lightly.
“you mean it?” you ask him meekly.
“of course i mean it. i want you as my lady.”
hearing him refer to you as his lady had you overly geeked, but you had to maintain whatever composure you had left. “oh, okay.”
neither of you says anything for a moment. mainly because you’re at a loss for words. you’re not exactly sure what the right thing to say is after semi-establishing your romantic relationship with what was once your best friend.
“sooo,” you drag out the word, “you my nigga now or what?”
your question produces a laugh from jaafar, like he wasn’t expecting you to ask in that manner. “yeah, i’m yours now.”
“cool. i’m finna go take a shower before i geek out even more,” you speak while untangling your lower half from the mess sheets and blankets.
jaafar doesn’t respond but he doesn’t have to because the weight of last night and this morning was enough. y’all fucked and now y’all are dating. what else is there to say?
the scalding hot shower you took was enough to somewhat sober you up and bring you to your senses. you must’ve had the time of your night last night, but you didn’t want to dwell on whatever possible bad decisions you made.
standing in the bathroom after your shower makes you realize how much you’ve already invaded jaafar’s space. your skincare is on the counter, alongside your toothbrush that’s beside his. you practically were attached to him by the hip, so maybe getting together was just inevitable.
afterwards, you return to jaafar’s room in just your towel to find him gone. you assumed he was downstairs with whoever else stayed over last night, so you began to get dressed.
since you spending the night wasn’t exactly planned, the only thing you’re able to find is a tank top you left at his place months ago and a pair of his sweatpants that were definitely too big for you.
you walk down the stairs to be greeted with the sight of jaafar and jermajesty talking. you don’t remember seeing him last night, but it wasn’t that out of the ordinary for him to be here.
as you round the kitchen counter to take a seat, you feel a pair of eyes on you. it’s not like they were burning a hole into you or anything, they were just there.
“them jaafar pants?” jermajesty questions you once you sit down.
you look down at the pants you’re wearing before looking up to his face. yeah, they were jaafar’s pants, but jermajesty wasn’t supposed to notice, let alone point it out.
“yeah. ion’ got no clothes over here for real,” you reply.
“what about what you had on last night?” he questions you again.
“why would i stay in my clothes that i was partying in?” you fire back.
jaafar laughs at your response, which causes both you and jermajesty to look at him. jermajesty looks as if he’s trying to put the pieces of some elaborate puzzle together.
he looks at your sweatpants, then at jaafar’s face, back to your sweatpants, and to jaafar’s face once again. the gears were definitely starting to turn in his head.
“oh, y’all hunching,” he concludes.
“bro what?”
“what?”
you and jaafar speak at the same time, which definitely doesn’t help your case. if jermajesty was skeptical beforehand, the two of you definitely confirmed his suspicions.
“nah ‘cause i thought it was chill when y’all went home together last night. but whole time, y’all wasn’t doing nothin’ but hunching.”
“first of all,” you start, turning your full attention to jermajesty, “i didn’t even see you at the party last night. you one lurking ass nigga,” you snap.
“that’s ’cause you was drunk out of yo’ mind,” he replies without hesitation.
“she wasn’t even that drunk last night,” jaafar interjects.
that causes jermajesty to roll his eyes. “and here this nigga go defending you ‘cause you let him fuck last night.”
“you ‘bout irritating as fuck. go home bro,” you complain.
jermajesty gets up immediately upon hearing your words. it was like he was waiting for the green light to leave ever since you came downstairs.
“you don’t gotta tell me twice. i’m not tryna have y’all fuck in the kitchen right next to me,” he says while grabbing his car keys.
“don’t be mad ‘cause you ain’t get none last night!” you tease him.
jermajesty says nothing in response, just unlocking the door and slamming it behind him. with just you and jaafar left, the room undeniably feels more tense than when jermajesty was just there.
“don’t mind him. he do the most,” jaafar apologizes.
“it’s cool. he wasn’t exactly wrong, either,” you flush.
“mhm,” he hums, looking down at you from where he stood across the counter, “he don’t know half of it.”
“yeah?”
“yeah. he don’t even know how bad i need you right now.”
you smile and look away from him, even though you’re the one who initially said jermajesty wasn’t wrong. it was just that hearing jaafar speak so lewdly made warmth spread throughout your entire body.
SYNOPSIS: You are a famous award-winning actress having starred in multiple movies since you were a teenager and you recently landed a role as Michael Jackson’s love interest in the movie Michael with Jaafar Jackson as your co-star. Upon finishing the film, the cast goes to their first interview for the film’s press tour where a question about your supposedly undeniable chemistry with Jaafar gets thrown.
CONTENT: no use of y/n (i dont like using it lol), just fluff
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HIIII this is my first fanfic after YEARS of not writing so she's a little rusty, please bear with me :') also keep in mind that english is actually NOT my first language so i'm sorry if there are any grammatical errors but i tried to make sure there were as little as possible. AND AND little psa.. i do NOT use ai for my work nor do i consent to my work being used to train any type of ai. we dont do that here alright theres already so many authors getting accused of using ai as it is. i'm also open to any sort of feedback so feel free to leave any suggestions or requests in my asks :)))
WORD COUNT: 3,551
Los Angeles today was fairly sunny. The trees were gently swaying in the wind as the sun casted soft rays on the pavement. It was nice. Calm, relaxing. A stark contrast to the internal uneasiness and anxiety you were feeling. Press tours weren’t usually a big deal for you given that you’ve done plenty in your acting career since you were a teenager, but for some reason, you couldn’t shake this discomfort in your chest as you look out into the streets of LA in attempts to keep your mind off of it.
“You holding up okay there, kid? You’re unusually quiet.”
You turn from the car window and face Savannah, your manager, as she looked back at you from the passenger seat. You smile and let out a sigh, “Yeah… just a little nervy, I guess.” You shrug, nibbling at your bottom lip as you fiddle with your hands, a nervous habit that you did whenever you were under stress.
Savannah raises a brow and chuckles, “I don’t think I’ve seen you this nervous since your first horror film. Everything okay?” She asks this with genuine concern laced in her voice.
You let out a big breath, looking away from her and back at the car window. You raise a hand to gently scratch at your cheek, “I’m fine, Sav’, it’s just… I don’t know… something about this press tour feels freakishly daunting to me. Y’know with all the reshoots that we had to do and stuff… I guess I’m just scared that they’ll ask stuff about shit I can’t control.” As you say that, Savannah stares at you, studying your face with her brows slightly furrowed. You bite your lip in anticipation, slightly intimidated at the way she’s looking at you. You couldn’t lie to Savannah; she always saw right through you. She’s been your manager since you were seventeen on Broadway just starting out. Essentially, she knew you better than anyone. An older sister you never had.
“…What?” You blink.
“So are you gonna tell me the truth or…”
“Sav’!”
She calls out your name in the same tone, “Kid, you’ve been doing interviews since years ago and you’re telling me you’re scared that journalists are gonna do what journalists have always done?” She scoffs; you frown. “Yeah, exactly. So, tell me what’s going on.” You groan and lean your head on the car window, struggling to put into words what you’ve been feeling these past few days.
“You’re nervous about seeing him again, huh?”
Immediately, you raise your head and deny, “No! I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You cross your arms and of course, Savannah sees right through you.
“Oh, do not even try that with me.” When you start to protest, she cuts you off right away, “Hey- Jaafar’s a good kid. Handsome too, so I totally understand. What I don’t understand is why you’re nervous about this all of a sudden. Haven’t you guys been texting or calling or facetiming or whatever it is you kids do?” She pulls out her tablet, scrolling through whatever your itinerary is for today as the driver informs you both that you’re nearing your destination.
You recall all the times you’ve spent losing sleep because of both the meaningless and meaningful conversations you’ve had with Jaafar late at night which sometimes bled into early morning. Yes, you have been keeping touch with him even months after shooting had ended. He even sent you a text earlier today saying he was looking forward to seeing you again after months. It doesn’t make sense really, the two of you were close, too close at times, so why were you so nervous?
“Yeah, we’ve been keeping in touch. It’s just weird since we haven’t seen each other in a while… maybe things changed, y’know?” You fiddle with your fingers, picking at a piece of stray glue on your press-on nails.
Savannah hums in understanding, still tapping away at her tablet. She looks back at you, “I get you, but trust me when I say you’ve got nothing to worry about.” You sigh, looking back out the car window as they finally reach the studio.
“I hope you’re right.”
—
Jaafar had arrived to the studio twenty minutes early unexpectedly, a slightly jittery feeling in his fingertips. He walked onto set dawning a white silk shirt and black slacks but despite his dapper appearance, there was a somewhat nervousness evident in his steps. He looks around, searching for that one familiar face and smile. In his pursuit, he doesn’t even notice the steps approaching him from behind.
“She’s not here yet.”
Jaafar jumps slightly and turns to find one Colman Domingo giving him a knowing smile. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t see you there,” he breathes out, chuckling before moving to give the man a hug. “Good to see you again.”
Colman reciprocates and gives him some pats on his back. “Same to you. How you feeling?”
Jaafar steps back and bites his lip lightly, “Ahh- nervous? I haven’t done an interview like this in years.” Colman chuckles, patting his shoulder. The two grew to be very close since the start of filming, Colman providing a sort of guidance to Jaafar as he feels out the acting and film industry.
“Well, I think you’ll do just fine. But if you need anything, you can come to me.” Jaafar nods, grateful for his words.
“Thank you for that, Colman really.”
“Though, I don’t think you’ll need much of my help once she gets here.”
Jaafar blinks. “Once… who gets here?” He questions, though he already sort of knows who he’s referring to.
Colman tilts his head and deadpans at him, “The woman who always somehow manages to get the shy and reserved Jaafar comfortable and laidback on set,” He mentions your name, “Who else would I be talking about?” He laughs, patting his shoulder again, not noticing the slight redness that crept up on the apples of Jaafar’s cheeks as he smiled and snickered. Just then, the door to the studio opens.
“Speak of the devil.”
When Jaafar turns to look, his breath hitches. There you were, wearing a pretty white silk off the shoulder top and a black flowy skirt stopping just below your knees. Your hair was done beautifully, cascading down your back. At first, Jaafar didn’t know what to do as he stood there staring, admiring. It was only when Colman stepped forward to greet you that he broke out of his trance.
“Colman! Good to see you again!”
“You too, sweetheart, you too!”
Jaafar watches with a smile as you and Colman share a hug and laugh. You were a gem, that he knew. You always had a way of connecting with people and making everyone feel included and to Jaafar, that meant everything. When you and Colman step back from the hug, your eyes shift to Jaafar’s, and he almost instantly melts. You smile and step forward. “Hey, you,” you greet, arms stretching out to give him an embrace.
“Hey,” Jaafar replies, grinning as he reciprocates your embrace. Immediately, his nervousness, as well as yours disintegrates. It was funny how just a simple hug between the two of you would be enough for everything to start feeling right again.
When you pull back, you pause abruptly, eyes shifting to his outfit. Jaafar’s brows furrow in confusion when you point to his clothes and then to your own. He looks down at what he’s wearing, and then back at you.
Ah.
He sees it now.
“We’re matching!”
—
Jaafar was the first to sit at the couch for the interview. And when he does, he looks up at you and pats the empty space to his right. You, of course, gladly take the seat and make yourself comfortable. “You look beautiful, by the way,” Jaafar utters, eyes glazing with admiration. Your face heats up slightly, a bashful smile making its way on your lips.
However, you try your best not to let his sweet words get to you. Jokingly tossing your hair back, you say, “Thanks. And you couldn’t have at least tried to match my energy?” to which Jaafar snorts and snickers at.
“We’re literally color coordinated right now.”
“Yeah, and I should fire my stylist for that.”
He bursts out laughing and it makes you let out a chuckle as well.
Soon, the rest of the cast joins the two of you. Colman sits directly to your right, while Juliano Valdi and Nia Long take the two remaining spaces beside him. The interviewer arrives, introduces herself, and kickstarts the interview with questions ranging from how the cast is feeling now that the movie is finished, and what it was like getting into each other’s roles.
You all answer each question thrown at you with grace. Colman is charismatic as ever, cracking jokes whenever fit. Nia is radiant and glowing, and Juliano of course, is always quite the charmer. You were more relaxed despite being a nervous wreck in the car earlier. The same goes for Jaafar and it’s interesting how the two of you seem to be more at ease and level-headed when with each other.
The interviewer then switches the topic up, straightening up from her seat as she addresses you and Jaafar. “Now, I’ve heard that the two of you had phenomenal chemistry during the making of the film. How was it working as each other’s love interests? Especially since this is Jaafar’s first role as well.” As the question was asked, Coleman and Nia give each other a knowing look but it goes unnoticed by the two of you.
You turn to Jaafar and find that he was already looking at you in expectance. Hesitating, you ask him, “Do you want to…?” as you gesture towards the interviewer. It was a question you immediately knew the answer to. It was easy, of course it was. Everything was easy with Jaafar you’ve come to notice. Even the emotionally demanding scenes you had to film with him felt simple. Uncomplicated. Effortless.
“You can go first.” Jaafar says, a comforting smile spread across his face as he briefly caresses your knee.
You let out a slightly shaky breath at the contact and nod, looking back at the interviewer. “Well working with Jaafar… honestly it was like a breath of fresh air because I usually take a while to connect with my co-stars if I’m playing as their love interest. Y’know, I’d usually be shy and it would take a few more reads before I’d feel completely comfortable with the other person. But with him…” You shift your view to Jaafar again and almost lose your composure when you see the way he was looking at you. He was looking at you like you were the only person in the room. Like nothing else mattered. It flusters you and your immediate reaction was to nudge his shoulder, laughing to hide the effect that he had on you.
“Stop! Don’t look at me like that!”
Jaafar lets out a chuckle and raises his hands slightly in playful surrender. “Sorry, go on.” He says, still chuckling, leaning back against his seat. The interviewer smiles at the interaction between you two, while Colman and Nia share yet another knowing look to each other as they watch with fondness.
You sigh as you fix your posture. Clearing your throat you say, “Anyways, yeah… it was different with him… with Jaafar… because everything clicked almost… instantly, really. Like even in the initial chemistry read, there were times where we would just go off script and start improv-ing and bouncing off of each other’s lines so easily.” You chuckle as you’re reminded of the chemistry read. It was where everything started between you two. You remember how it was Jaafar to initially have gone off script which flustered you at first but everything seemed to fall right into place as it went on.
“And Jaafar’s also just such a great actor. Like, it wouldn’t even cross your mind that it was his first time acting because in my experience, every scene that I did with him was… It- it all just felt so… effortless with him because he somehow always just knows what to do or say. It was like…” You pause for a moment. “Like we already knew each other for so long.” Your eyes meet Jaafar’s again. He’s still smiling at you with so much fondness. And this time, you smile back at him.
The moment is interrupted by the interviewer asking, “And Jaafar, how was it for you?”
Jaafar clears his throat to answer, “Honestly, she’s being too nice.” He chuckles when you scoff and start playfully protesting ‘there he goes with that’ while you shake your head in denial. The rest of the cast laughs, as well as the interviewer who was watching with amusement. Jaafar then adjusts the way he’s seated and leans forward slightly to further answer the question, “No but seriously, it was all her. If it wasn’t for her, I would’ve been a mess on that set. She doesn’t give herself enough credit, seriously.”
Immediately you speak up, “I feel like you don’t give yourself enough credit.”
And instantly Jaafar shakes his head, saying your name, “You are one hell of an actress and the only reason I was even able to… to do well in our scenes was because of you and… and how you just make the scenes seem so natural and… almost comforting.” He stares at you with that look again. The look that says ‘you are the only one I see right now’, and it wraps you in warmth, like a blanket.
For a moment, you forget that there were cameras rolling and that you were doing an interview as you stared into his eyes. And when you do remember, “Now you’re making me cry,” you say as you jokingly fan your eyes with your hands. The room erupts in laughter and Jaafar playfully wipes at your eyes with his fingers, making you burst out laughing as well.
When the room calms, Colman speaks up from your right, “You know what, and I mean this sincerely, in all my years of acting, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two actors have so much chemistry right off the bat. I’ve watched them act out a few scenes and rehearse on set and sometimes I feel like I’m interrupting a special moment.”
Nia chimes in with her own input, “Exactly! I sometimes felt like I wasn’t even supposed to be watching because every scene with these two felt so intimate and real.”
And all of a sudden, your co-stars start their own conversation about how yours and Jaafar’s performance gave the film so much more life because of how the two of you seemed to fit each other so well. The way they spoke about it made you slightly bashful and nervous as you looked down at your fingers, picking at your nails almost too harshly. Unbeknownst to you, Jaafar notices and reaches a hand out to pull one of yours away from the other gently.
“You still do that,” he says, loud enough only for you to hear. He then reaches for the small pillow he was leaning against on the couch and hands it to you. With a thoughtful look, he utters, “Don’t want you getting hurt.” You give him a smile as you take the pillow and start fiddling and playing with its tassels.
“Thanks,” you reply. He nods, squeezing your wrist slightly before looking back at your co-stars.
When you put your attention back to the unfolding conversation, Juliano was the one currently speaking. “You wanna know what I’ve seen behind the scenes? I was on break from, like, practicing my dances and stuff so I went to go get some snacks from the break room. When I walk in, I find these two-” he points to you and Jaafar, “they were taking a nap on one of the couches and Jaafar was leaning on her like this-” He leans onto Nia to his right, acting out how Jaafar had supposedly looked, mouth open, snoring. The room erupts in laughter, your jaw dropping in slight shock and Jaafar covering his face in embarrassment.
“Oh my- I didn’t know you were there!” You exclaim, laughing as you stared at the boy smiling mischievously back at you.
“I wanted to take a picture but my mom said to leave you guys alone so,” he shrugs, grinning, happy to have made the people around him laugh.
Nia, Colman, and the interviewer give their own comments about the story told. Things like ‘how adorable’, ‘that’s very endearing’, and similar phrases showing their amusement for the dynamic that you and Jaafar have. And when you look to your left to see Jaafar’s cheeks still slightly reddened with bashfulness as he looked down at his lap, you reach out to place a hand on his forearm, squeezing slightly. His gaze shifts to yours and you mouth ‘you okay?’ to which he nods in response, his hand moving to cover yours for a moment before it settles back on his lap.
—
The interview continues and stretches for a few more minutes with questions about the movie and the creative process of it all being thrown. Soon, it ends and the interviewer stands to shake each of the cast members’ hands. When your manager calls you over to discuss a few concerns, Jaafar’s stare lingers a little, gaining the attention of his other co-stars.
Juliano is the first to speak, “You should ask her out.”
Jaafar looks down at the boy, chuckling, he says, “You think I should?” The kid nods vigorously in response, muttering something about it being ‘painful to watch you two’ which makes Jaafar laugh and shake his head. He sighs, “I don’t know, she seems very busy recently.”
Immediately, Juliano makes a face, “So are you! But if you guys really like each other, you’d make it work.” The kid even crosses his arms in a smug way.
Jaafar gapes at him slightly. “Am I speaking to a grown man right now? What’s going on?” he laughs, which makes the boy grin up at him, giggling slightly. What the two of them didn’t know was that Nia and Colman were listening in to their conversation from a few feet away. The latter walks up to them.
“Kid’s got a point.”
Jaafar turns to face Colman, sighing. “What if she says no?” The man only snorts in response, shaking his head. He pats his shoulder as they look back at you still talking to your manager. When you feel their gaze on you, your head turns to their direction. You smile and wave before turning to say something to your manager. Soon, you were walking towards them.
“I think you’ll be okay, Jaafar.” Colman says, walking away and calling Juliano over to give you two some space. Jaafar looks back at them as they walk away, his gaze catches Nia’s who was giving him a knowing look. He sees her mouth ‘good luck’ as you near and he silently curses at himself, the nerves suddenly getting to him.
You touch his shoulder and he turns almost way too quickly. You chuckle, smiling. “I just came to say bye. Savannah just told me I have a flight to catch.” Jaafar is disappointed, of course, but he nods in understanding nonetheless.
“Oh, okay. Yeah- for sure… uh… text me, alright?”
You nod, still smiling at him. You then reach out for a hug which Jaafar immediately returns. “I’ll see you next interview?” You ask when you pull back, looking up at him in expectance. He nods and hums in response, not really trusting his own voice at the moment because of how nervous he was all of a sudden. “M’kay, well I gotta go say bye to the others.” He nods again, watching as you slowly walk away.
But before you can even take more than five steps, he suddenly feels this surge of courage erupt inside of him. “Actually,” he calls out. You turn abruptly; eyebrows raised at his sudden call.
“Yeah?”
“…Do you wanna go out sometime?”
You pause. He bites his lip in anticipation.
“When?”
“Uh, this Saturday night maybe?”
“…Sav’?” You call out to your manager who raises her head and looks in your direction. “Am I doing anything this Saturday night?” Savannah looks down at her tablet for a moment, scrolling before she looks back up at you and to your surprise, shakes her head no. You nod and sigh in relief before turning back to face Jaafar who was looking at you expectantly. You grin up at him, “Saturday night sounds good.”
Jaafar lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in and nods, a huge smile threatening to split his face. “Saturday night then. I’ll text you the details?”
You hum, “I’ll be waiting then.”
Jaafar is the one who reaches out for a hug this time. In your embrace, he turns his head to mutter in your ear, “I’ll see you Saturday,” and pulls away to gaze into your eyes. You giggle as you look up at him and say right back,
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 tug on his hair for support. Once you had the energy to lift your head & come back to life, 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 sparkling 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."
your taunt was meant to be cruel, edged with a secret clark guarded with his every being. his face contorts in frustration, annoyance ebbing deep within him. his body remained bowed above you, trembling with effort when you deliberately shifted.
his hips jerk involuntarily, tip of his cock grazing your clit, throbbing and aching from having been blue-balled. "don't…say that." you release a shuddering breath as his thumb comes down to your sensitive bud. you jump at the rough callouses, rubbing against it hard.
your gaze snaps up, catching the conflicted look paint his expression, mirroring one of your own when he withdraws completely from you without breaking eye-contact. clark lifts you, a motion that was effortless as he carries you toward the bed. the tense, impulsive air from earlier — wanting to fuck each other so bad that you'd both been on the floor, had been promptly broken, replaced with clark's much more competitiveness and determination to prove you wrong.
he doesn't immediately re-enter you as he lowers you onto the unmade bed. instead, he kneels between your parted thighs. warmer, bigger palms slide up the plush fat, tightening in a painful intensity as he tugs you abruptly to the edge. it knocks the breath completely out of you.
his thumb skirts at the edge of your inner thighs where you were slick with arousal. the silence felt much more unnerving than his usual show of poutiness. "...clark?"
clark leans down, replacing the pads of his thumb on your inner thighs with his mouth. you jump at the press of his lips, followed by the sharp nip of his teeth on the sensitive skin. he works his way upward, holding you still against the mattress.
it's agonising. all of it. his slow explorative touches, all the hot, wet kisses everywhere but where you needed it the most. he's somehow managed to park his own aching need, painfully bobbing against his own abdomen — with the intentional dragging out of your pleasure.
you wince when his gaze meets yours. they aren't unkind, but they're glazed with a new teasing glint you hadn't quite seen from clark yet.
"claaark…quit teasing…"
your sweet plea echoes in the room, and you feel a low, approving hum vibrate against your skin. as though he'd been waiting for you to get the taste of what you'd deprived him of. his mouth wraps around your pussy without further teasing. tongue flattened, pressing a firm and relentless pressure. your back arches off the bed, though restricted with a possessive hold pushing them back down onto the duvet.
"f-fuck! cla — hhrk. don't — stop!"
clark's palm slides up your belly, moving upward to cup your warm, sweat-slick breasts. he squeezes the softness as his tongue works your pussy. dipping in and out of your tight walls and up to your clit. his mouth was just so fucking big that it felt like he was everywhere around you.
helplessly, you buck into clark's mouth, rocking and grinding into the gentle curve of his nose. whimpering incoherently at the assault of his wet, insistent tongue curling to the roof of your cunt.
he knows when you're close. and he sucks your bud hard, the sound wet and obscene in the room, "a-ah fuck! gonna cum. g'na cum!"
clark's acknowledgment rumbles riiight against your clit. he feels the telltale sign of your orgasm as you pulse on his tongue. broken cries spill from your throat as you cum hard, thighs quivering with how clark refused to relent, drawing out every last drop of your slick until you're a trembling puddle beneath him, with an arm strewn over your eyes as you finally come down from the high.
the mattress dips at the shift of his weight, the shadow casting over you ominously just as you think it's over.
he looks to you, desperate and broken, unable to curb his own need. you feel him pry your arm away from your face, "gonna put it in okay? hm?"
you barely get to protest as he positions himself at your entrance. offering you enough time for refusal or hesitation. but the needy look of his gaze was enough for your body to act in compliance. you slide your palm past your navel, to the folds of your cunt, parting it wider for him to see the eager pulse.
a low broken groan rumbles in clark's throat at the sight, the quiet invitation being all he needed. he enters you in a deep thrust, accentuated with a jerk of his hips. you both gasp simultaneously, the overwhelming full feeling coming so soon after your earlier orgasm has you tightening deliciously around his cock.
"mmh…baby you need t'relax," he chokes, enforcing his iron will to make good on his unspoken promise to make sure you feel like he fucked you.
he wanted you to feel him even days after, and that determination was enough for him to keep a languid pace, designed to draw out your pleasure.
and god, it had. each stroke of his girthy cock in your walls, the creamy, slick that made it so much easier for him to fuck your pussy in shallow thrusts. the sounds alone were making your belly churn with need, let alone that sweet spot he hit over and over again.
your palms come up to rest at his abdomen, each thrust making you go dumb, incoherent babbles spilling from your lips. his body remains a fortress. the muscles in his arms tensed and reddened, back rigid and strained with every fiber of him taut.
"s'too…much!" you squeak, weakly pawing at him, in attempt to push him.
clark catches your hands, lacing his own fingers with yours with a single palm, pinning them gently above your head with a pressure that offered you escape if you wished. he keeps at the pace, brows knit in focus.
"i-i can't anymore."
he merely tuts softly at your breathless whisper, clearly having lost all the fight from your earlier taunts. he sees the truth in your words, the trembling or your thighs and blissed out look in your eyes. but he shakes his head, voice low and equally pleading.
"yes…you can."
"claaaaark…" you whine softly as he guides your limp arms over his shoulders, cupping one of your palms flush against his fever-hot cheeks.
"i'm getting real…real close baby," his voice cracks for a second, "can you hold on? f'me?" through laboured pants, he continues grinding and circling his cock into your cunt.
you pulse around him with another, drawn out whine. dragging your nails down his damp, strained biceps. when you offer a weak nod, the bed creaks louder. whispered curses were quickly swallowed when he shifts his angle a tad, hitting a spot in you that made your vision blur.
"fuck! t-there", you gasp sharply, fingers digging into his muscles. you nod hastily, unsure at even what — the insistent probe of his cock in that gummy spot deep within you sent shockwaves through your entire body. pushing you into another, white hot peak. the bed frames only continue scream louder under the relentless motion he keeps up.
"here?" he pants, gaze unfocused as he tilts his body to support his weight, with his forearm against the duvet to keep the angle.
"FUCK, yes! there, there — th—ah!"
your pussy gushes around him with no further warning, fluttering hard along his length as you cum again. a ragged grunt resonates against the side of your head, followed by clark's growls. his hips bucks wildly, body shuddering as he coats your insides deep with spurts of his thick spend.
the force of his very last thrust elicits a screeching crack of the bed frames, and you both drop hard.
the two of you briefly look at each other in a bewildered surprise and synchronised breathing, and you finally break the intense haze.
"shit." you croak, voice hoarse in its delivery.
clark lets out a huff, rolling to his side and taking you with him so you're nestled against his chest instead of being crushed beneath him as he slump.
summary: Clark Kent is the perfect neighbor and the ultimate gentleman. Baking cookies, fixing stuff around your apartment, always there with his reliable smile. So who's he to say no when you ask him to help build your new couch and… break it???
tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, neighbors to friends to lovers, whipped clark kent, he is a gentleman, clark and reader are horny for each other, oral (f receiving). clark has a BIG DICK, unprotected p in v sex, creampie.
wc: 3.4k words.
a/n: first of all... thank you so much to @tw1sters for managing and giving me the chance to take part in this SEXY event! i had so much fine writing it ahhh. second, hugeeeee thanks to @theworstwolvie and @clarknsun for being the first one to read and comment on this one, i am truly grateful. third, @sparklingsin!!!!!!!!! YOU AND YOUR TALENT HELLO i love the header sooo much thank you for making time to make it for me. i love all of you (and you readers too) very dearly <3
KENT masterlist | masterlist
You live in a humble apartment located in the heart of Metropolis. With a good amount of room for one person, every night, the sound of the traffic around you would hum like white noise, the high floor-to-ceiling window showing you the perfect view of the city’s nightlife—you mostly never closed the curtains in your living room—hell, you could even view Superman fighting one of his weekly villain fights through it.
Yet the thing that made you love it even more—to the point where you would rather be inside all day than go out with your friends, declining their offers—was not those.
It was your perfect neighbor: Clark Kent.
You pegged him as the ultimate neighbor since the first day you moved in. As the moment he saw you struggling with your boxes of too much stuff, he immediately offered to help.
Lifting up three heavy objects that were filled with your heavy kitchen appliances and bathroom necessities too easily, you can’t help but stare at those bulging biceps as he moved around. Quickly looking away every time you feel like he’d almost catch you.
And let’s just say your moving-in process was finished in just an hour, rather than the whole afternoon, with his help.
“I’m Clark, by the way,” mentioned the broad and tall man as he brushed his palm against his jeans, with his thick rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose and his deep dimples and boyish smile that you were sure would make you do a double take if you saw him on the streets.
“I live next door,” he pointed to the unit next to you.
So– you have a good view of the city AND a hot neighbor too? You really felt like you hit the jackpot with this one.
You smiled and offered him your name. “Nice to meet you, neighbor. I hope we could be good friends then.”
He nodded, lips curling up even more. “Just knock if you need anything. I’ll leave you to it?”
Humming, you then lead him out of your boxes-filled apartment, thanking him one last time.
You thought it would stop with him acting like a decent person—just helping a girl out with her things, but it didn’t. Later that night, you heard a knock on the door.
Looking up from your kitchen floor, you fixed up your shirt before padding down the hall. Checking the peephole to see the same new neighbor—Clark—carrying a plate filled with what you presume were freshly baked cookies.
Your eyes widened as you opened the door and saw exactly that. His soft smile, the scent of sweetness and the warmth emanating from the cookies almost made your heartbeat quicken.
“Sorry to bother you,” he fixes up his glasses with his free hand, then offers the plate out.
“Housewarming gift. Freshly made– though please do not mind if it’s not that good.”
You looked down at the plate, taking it, then up at him again. “Clark– wow, you didn’t have to…”
His smile softened immediately. “I wanted to. Hope you enjoy it.”
You breathed out a small thanks before he left you to continue your organizing.
The next day, you knocked on his door. His once-filled plate with cookies was now replaced with chocolate muffins you made all morning.
His surprise was evident, soft red hues creeping up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “I didn’t make those cookies just so you could bake me something as well,” his brows knitted.
“Well, consider it as a thank you for helping me out yesterday.”
He sighed softly. “Thank you,” with his classic, shy smile.
Then it continued. Always using the “I cooked too much” as a reason.
You’d give him your signature pasta recipe, and he’d return it the next day with a pan of freshly baked pie. He’d give you some homemade chicken dish he told you he learned to make from his Ma, you’d return it with a pint full of ice cream you made (just for him).
Though it went on and didn’t stop with the both of you casually exchanging meals.
Your kitchen pipes weren’t working? He’d be there in seconds with a wrench in his hand after you asked for help. Your eyes zeroed the moment his shirt went damp, making it practically transparent. You gulped as you stared at how his back muscles shifted with every move.
You didn’t know he could hear the way your breath hitched, though. His own body reacting the same as he could feel that you were also being affected by the closeness of the moment.
“Just need it to be tightened up,” he hummed, looking up at you from his knees just before the under-sink cabinet.
“Oh–” you straightened up, his voice breaking the trance you were in. “All fixed then?”
“Yeah…” he murmured as he stood up, his tall figure towering over you.
You felt your neck straining. “Thank you, Clark.”
“No worries. I’m open to help you with whatever, okay?”
Whatever, huh?
You almost choked at your own spit with the thought of him helping you with whatever. Immediately pushing those… thoughts down.
“Okay,” you managed to rasp out.
He smiled again before he continued with his day.
“Fuck…” you muttered to yourself the moment you closed your door, your forehead thudded against the wood.
More happened.
You were cooking, realized you were out of some ingredients, and went to him.
“Hey, sorry to bother you… but I’m cooking something, and I just realized that I’m out of onions. Do you potentially have any spare ones?” you asked him sheepishly.
Clark cursed to himself because he didn’t have any. He wanted to keep being the one you go to with every struggle you have; he wanted to keep being your lifeline and salvation, so what did he do?
“I’m sorry I don’t… though I’m gonna go out,” a lie. “Soap’s running short,” another lie. Clark literally just bought a full bottle yesterday.
“Really? Would you help me get some onions then?” your eyes gleaming with anticipation, but not wanting to burden him.
“Of course,” he smiled. “I’ll go get some for you.”
He returned less than 30 minutes later with a bag of onions and some snacks you mentioned you liked weeks ago.
You flushed, thanked him, and he nodded before leaving.
Week after week, it kept happening. It was like the both of you were trying to make excuses to see each other even more.
Purposefully switching up your mails with each other. When he saw your balcony railing wobbled just below an inch, he’d offer to fix it immediately. He heard you struggling with your shopping bags after a day out? He would take it from your hands, letting you carry nothing in your hands.
The both of you started to get closer. Unprompted movie nights in his unit, baking and cooking together, even doing nothing but enjoying a warm cup of tea as you both sit on the lounge chairs on your balcony, sharing childhood stories and laughing together.
Oh, both of you were falling deep.
The gaze held longer, smile now softer—deeper in a way—nothing like you ever shared with other people. You told him about your day, your stressful work, your family—and he told you about his life.
It was sweet, really. Clark Kent was sweet.
At this point, he knew everything about you. How you take your coffee, how your nose scrunched before you let out his favorite free laugh every time he made one of his stupid jokes, how sweet you smell whenever his touch lingered just on your thighs whenever you whispered a secret to him, how your pulse thrummed so evidently the moment he tucked a stray hair behind your ear.
And you knew everything about him as well. How his eyes would crinkle with amusement when you rolled your eyes and acted all annoyed, how his hand would linger around you as you both worked around the kitchen, how his body would tense, how his breath would hitch every time you told him something about yourself. Every time you draped yourself on his lap while watching one of the romcoms you forced him to see.
You felt it. The palpable tension, so thick you could cut it with a dull knife, through the not-so-innocent touches, the whispered words—He felt it too. The problem was, Clark Kent is too much of a gentleman to break those boundaries first, and there’s no way you’re the one who’d tear the bandaid off.
So the both of you didn’t advance into anything more than his arm around your shoulder as you both relaxed, or your arms around him as you let out your stress through the feeling of his warmth and scent wrapped around you.
Until one day.
You told him you were buying a couch, and even made him help you pick the color and measure your space. So the moment it arrived, he was at his feet instantly. Going down to carry the box filled with the parts.
It should be normal now; he’s helping you make furniture and fixing around your place, though he usually didn’t use this thin, figure-hugging compression shirt that made all of his muscles look swollen.
He made you stay out of it completely, just like always, not wanting you to do the work at all—yet you can’t help but linger.
You can’t help but ogle him—practically sexualizing him inside of your head.
The way his bicep would flex with every twist of the screwdriver, his veins popping under his sleeves through his forearm, making you wonder if those blood vessels would also look this enticing around his cock.
Your thighs clench the moment he lay under the couch as he tightened the bolts there. His shirt was riding up to reveal a patch of his skin, covered with soft hairs leading down to his crotch.
And he knew. He could practically smell the heavy, sweet smell of your arousal. He could hear the soft breaths you didn’t even know you let out every time he shifted, and his shirt went up even more.
His own body starts to heat up, flushing even though all of his blood was going south. He was thankful that he opted to wear his baggy sweats rather than his tight jeans.
Nevertheless, you saw his bulge start to thicken under the grey fabric. Eyes widening, you immediately looked away.
Clearing your throat. “Do you want some water?”
He looked up, noting the way that you were more fidgety than usual. “Yeah. Sure, thanks.”
You gave him a tight-lipped smile before walking through the kitchen.
Clark couldn’t help but fixate his eyes on your form. Your soft curves swaying with every step, ass peeking out of those short shorts that—the fact that it was always shorter than the last made it obvious that you want him to see. But he can’t. He can’t lose his control–
Gods, you were bending over the freezer now.
He shut his eyes, sucking a deep breath and letting it out shakily. He felt it wavering—his self-control thinning with every quiet hum you let out of your lips.
His fingers tightened around the whatever tool he was holding instantly. His cock throbbing inside his boxers, wanting—needing to be freed from the confinement and the pressure.
You knelt beside him, handing him the cold water. “All good?”
He cleared his throat, hand brushing over the couch’s fresh cushion to distract himself. “All good.”
You then helped him, fingers brushing his palm, lingering on his forearms whenever he asked you for a tool, and you’d give it. You also made it more obvious now that you saw him get hard.
You would blatantly eye him up and down, bare thighs brushing against his hands– you were horny.
Clark Kent made you horny, and he was the only one who could fix it.
His fingers would tighten around the wooden foot, and you imagined it was you instead. He’d let out grunts, and you imagined that it was you pulling it out of him, how he would probably praise you instead of dirty talking just because he was so respectful—too respectful.
He gulped as he watched how your breath starts to quicken, mirroring it unconsciously.
Then– Click.
The last bolt—the last piece of the couch was put in place. Dragging you back into reality.
“You’re done?” you asked.
He nodded, and you immediately sank down onto the new couch. Shifting around to feel the soft padding underneath you.
He joins, and your thighs grazed immediately, making you almost jolt—the neediness heightening back up inside you.
“It feels solid…” he murmured.
You finally glance at him, eyes low and half-lidded with lust. “Wanna test it?”
He eyed you, the way your chest heaved, pupils blown out before rushing forward and kissing the life out of you.
You stumbled with your lips, before wrapping your arms around him and pulling him flush on top of you as you sank against the armrest. Lips parting, swiping your tongue along his lower lip before nipping it, making him groan out your name.
His fingers brushed along the hem of your shirt, lips separating from yours so he could kiss down your jaw and neck.
“Ask me to stop and I will, sweetheart,” he whispered against your skin.
You shook your head profusely.
“I need words…” as he pulled away to study your face, the way your eyes glossed with want.
“Please– I need you, Clark, please…” You whined.
“Of course,” giving a soft kiss on your cheek. “Anything for you, sweet girl,” another on your lips. The nicknames and his gentleness burned you inside out, making you fall deeply towards him more and more.
He finally lifted your shirt off gently, kissing every inch of your skin revealed. Unclasping your bra, groaning at the sight of your breasts bare before him.
You squirmed underneath him the moment he wrapped his soft pink lips around your hardened nipple. Back arching as your hands found his shoulder and squeezed it.
“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured, kissing further down till his lips made contact with the waistband of your shorts. “Can I?”
“Yes– Clark, yes…” his hips lifting instantly as he hooked his fingers around it, pulling it and your panties with such softness and gentleness that no other man could give other than him.
He let out a shuddered breath as he spread your thighs open. The delicious scent of you hits all of his senses immediately.
He hummed as he saw how your folds glistened—borderline dripping. “Don’t wanna make a mess on the new couch, don’t we, sweetheart?” he whispered, before hooking your legs over your shoulder and diving right into it. Collecting all of your wetness—dragging his tongue on your hole up to your clit, making you let out a quiet cry.
“Clark–!” fingers snaking through his curls, tugging them as you held yourself back from grinding your hips against his mouth.
He looped his arms around your thighs, mouth expertly working you out—all the while his gaze stayed on you. Watching every bit of your reactions, the way you threw your head back against the armrest, eyes rolled, lower lip stuck between your teeth as you hold back your sounds.
It was a sight he could never forget now. He was sure to etch it into the deepest crook of his brain.
You whined out his name the moment he pulled back, though. “I know… I’m gonna give you something better, okay?”
You nodded reluctantly, too weak, too drunk with pleasure to deny and fight him over it. You kept your eyes as he stripped out of his clothes. Hole fluttering and tightening around nothing the moment he was bare before you.
His cock—full of girth and length, was straining and slapping against his stomach. His tip red, glistening with his pre. “You’re– huge, holy shit…”
He let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll make it fit. Don’t worry,” as his fingers brushed your hair back, grazing along your cheekbones.
You hummed softly, parting your legs even more to accommodate his broad figure.
Clark lets out a moan as he begins to slowly slide his tip against your folds. “So wet… you’ve been wanting this, hm?”
The silent nod in your response made his heart bloom, because he had wanted this too. He imagined this happening too many times before—whether when he was with you or alone in his bedroom whispering your name as he stroked himself to the thoughts of you—and really, the reality was so much better for him.
The moment he finally pushed himself inside you? He broke. Letting out a deep guttural sound to the feeling of your velvet walls wrapped so perfectly around him—it was as if you were made for him, no– he was made for you.
And you felt the burn, the stretch, splitting you open from your inside. Your hands find his arms immediately. Making imprints of your nails as you dug into his skin from the feeling of the pleasurable pain.
“Clark–”
“Shh… open up for me, sweetheart. I know you can.”
He stayed still the moment he was buried deep inside you, fingers softly brushing along your bare skin as you began to relax.
You nodded, eyes looking up at him with adoration the moment the burn dissipates.
“All ready?” he asked softly.
“Yeah…”
The both of you let out choruses of moans as he began moving, slowly at first. He pulled your arms so you could wrap them around his neck, his own snaking around your back just to keep you close to him.
His forehead pressed against yours. “You feel so good…” he whispered, pulling you into a deep kiss filled with passion. He kept his easy pace, but it was like he was holding back.
“More…” you moaned against his lips.
Who was he to deny you, his sweet, sweet girl, from pleasure?
He picked up his pace. Still deep, reaching to every inch of your walls, but it was more punishing now.
The couch starts to squeak underneath you—but you both didn’t care. Too captivated by the feeling of each other’s bodies to even notice the foot of the couch.
“Fuck–!” you moaned the moment he angled your hips. Your fingers now sprawled on the span of his back, raking it. Your walls began to clench around him tightly, making him fuck you deeper and faster.
“More!” you cried. And he served. His thrusts now punishing, both your chests panting. Your gasps and his moans echo around your apartment.
Clark swore that you were like an angel before him. With your body wrapped around a thin sheet of sweat that made it seem like you're glowing, hair messily draped everywhere yet still beautiful, your breasts bouncing like an invitation, and your face… gods, your face. He could die peacefully thinking about it alone.
So utterly beautiful and broken, and he was the one who did it.
His hips are working like an animal now, brutal, feral.
You finally realized that the couch underneath you was shaking, but you didn’t care. All you could think about was him, him, and him.
He noticed the way the couch was groaning in protest with the amount of pressure it was being given, but the way your cunt was tightening around him meant that he couldn’t stop. “Gonna break this–” before your walls gripped his cock even further.
“Gonna come–!” you cried.
“Give it to me, sweetheart. Come on.”
And you obeyed. Letting out a sharp cry of his name as your body jolts—convulsing as the waves after waves of orgasm hit your senses—burning your body with the amount of pleasure.
“Fuck–” he cursed, fucking you deeper as he chased his own climax. At last, with a final and intense thrust–
Craaack.
The foot snapped completely, making you yelp out and scrambling to hold onto him.
Clark didn’t even realize that he had already came and spilled inside you, too stunned, too focused on making sure you’re not hurt.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” his eyes widened, doing a one-overlook look at you to make sure no blood came out of you.
Your arms tightened, before you burst out laughing. “I am–” you wheezed. “The couch though…”
He blinked, then huffing out a small and relieved chuckle. “Guess it’s not strong enough, huh?”
Before pulling you onto his lap, shifting you on the floor carefully—still seethed deep inside you, and tugging you closer into a soft kiss. Fingers cuping your cheeks gently.
synopsis. In the fresh modern age of 2026, the last thing you'd expect was to get thrown in a Back to the Future plot. You and your totally basic life go haywire during a moment of curiosity when you decide to test out a stubborn retro camera with mixed up dates. What happens when it wasn't just any old camera? What if it had taken you back to the 20th century? And what will you do when you find the chance to change his fate?
starring. multiple eras!michael jackson x time traveller!reader
content warnings. death, sexual content later in the story, tobacco, alcohol, mental and physical abuse, michael's childhood, and many more content labels yet to come! muahaha
MASTERLIST
(total episode count has not been determined yet)
—episode 1 | Say cheese!
—episode 2 | This is far out!
—episode 3 | Oh, dear child...
—episode 4 | Funky 21st century girl!
—episode 5 | ...
—episode 6 | ...
—episode 7 | ...
—episode 8 | ...
—episode 9 | ...
—episode 10 | ...
—episode 11 | ...
—episode 12 | ...
—episode 13 | ...
—episode 14 | ...
—episode 15 | ...
—episode 16 | ...
—episode 17 | ...
(Further episodes will be decided later on.)
If you would like to be tagged for this series or for my general taglist, please let me know!
Jaafar Jackson on his grandmother Katherine's reaction to his portrayal of his uncle Michael.
⸙ Meet the Jacksons: Nia Long, Colman Domingo & Jaafar Jackson | ESSENCE UnCovered ⸙
