Pairing: Jaafar Jackson x Reader
Tags: Jaafar Jackson, one night stand, Public, celebrity x fem reader
Summary: You are a seat filler at the BET Awards and happened to be seated next to Jaafar.
a/n: been a bit since I posted Jaafar, and tonight he looked extra scrumptious.
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You give yourself one last glance in the mirror as you smooth your dress and fidget with the part of your hair that refuses to cooperate. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips as excitement and disbelief battle in your mind.
You were really going to the BET Awards.
When you filled out the seat filler application months ago, it was really just a joke...you had too much wine and thought why not? You never thought they'd actually choose you.
But yet, here you are. In a dress that hugs your curves just right, the illusion of designer despite the dress being terribly out of season. But no one there needed to know that.
BET had booked your hotel, but that was where their generosity ended. All alone you did your hair, found your dress, and figured out transportation. Every dollar spent carefully and no corners were cut. Despite being on a budget you were not going to look a fool.
With one long breath, you grab your clutch, finally slide your heels on and head for the door. In the Hotel parking lot your car sticks out like a sore thumb. Your beat up Honda Civic waits for you looking like Cinderella's carriage after midnight.
It may be worn but it's yours.
You laugh to yourself as you hop in carefully to not ruin your dress. The car lags a bit before starting. It takes a bit longer than usual to start you note but at least she still starts.
The ride there was hell. You didn't understand the LA traffic, you had to fight your GPS, and you severely underestimated how hot it could get in the oven you mistake for a car.
But when you finally make it, you make it. Did the security believe you were allowed in at first with that car? No. Did it take an extra fifteen minutes to convince them? Yes. But all that didn't matter now.
You stand in the venue taking in the sight. The theater was beautiful high ceilings and large glass windows. Black marble floors and an echo.
At a table that had the sign: Seat-Fillers, you signed in. A stern older woman gives you a refresher on your role and your seat number. You were here to laugh and clap. Do not talk to the celebrities unless spoken to and of course enjoy the show.
You giddily search for your seat, hoping for a good view. The theater is empty say for people like you sprinkling in, no A-listers or models just yet. Excitement buzzes through you once you do find your seat. It's not bad, obviously you are way in the back in the lower balcony, third row closest to the ground. Decent enough.
When you finally sit down you note two things. One, these seats are really comfortable, and two, you are really nervous. It finally hits that you will be surrounded by people you grew up watching on TV. Granted they probably won't notice you, but to be sitting around them for free? Crazy.
Your mind wonders with who will be sitting next to you. You drag your palms down your thighs the quell all the nerves jostling inside. Phones are allowed, so you pull yours out and check the time. You are really early, the show doesn't start for a few hours. It's better to be early than late but how would you kill the time?
It's not like you're glued to your seat just yet so you decide to explore the theater. You find the bathrooms for just in case, and also the cafe where they are selling ridiculously overpriced muffins and finger foods. You snap photos of pretty architecture and statues. Before you know it, you successfully killed an hour.
You go back to your seat for the remainder of the time. Your heart beats in your ears as you see familiar faces fill the room. You can't help the smile that creeps up your face as your idols find their seats. Your heart lurches every time one gets close but never sits down.
After another hour or so, some of your excitement dies as the seat next to yours remains empty. The show is about to start and still no owner of the chair.
Disappointment lines your stomach. You are forever grateful for the opportunity of course but you just hoped...Oh well.
The show starts and your disappointment fleas out the door. The energy in the room was none like any other. You sprung to your feet immediately, your hands clapping together with excitement.
Being on this side of things was so strange. You see the camera men scaling the crowd, you hear the slight audio delay of the host, you feel the bass in your chest. The bass so deep it made you slightly light headed.
The first award was presented by Jaafar Jackson and Nia Long. Your breath was stolen at the sight of them. They were extremely gorgeous, you couldn't fathom that they were real.
It was like a trance seeing them on stage, when the pair finally exited the stage, the breath clogging your chest eased. Suddenly you can breathe again.
That feeling would grab tight onto you many more times but not like that.
After a performance there was a five minute break. You sit down, toes crying inside the torture device also known as high heels. You relax into your seat, letting your back breathe as well. A low ache pulses through your body as you relax.
"Is this seat taken?" A voice says from your right.
You snap back into your more presentable mask.
"Uh–nope! I mean no, it isn't," you fumble with your words.
Silently you curse yourself out because that was not the cool and unbothered girl you promised yourself you'd be.
"Can I sit here?" He says.
When you finally compose yourself, you get a better look at the figure talking idly in front of you.
Your blood runs cold as your mind pieces together who this was.
It was Jaafar Jackson and he was asking to sit next to you.
"Sure," you huff, disbelief clinging to your lungs.
He smiles and thanks you.
"Jaafar," he turns to you, his hand stretched out.
"I know," you breathe and shake his hand.
He chuckles to himself before turning to face the stage. The break was over. Your starstruck haze wasn't but you knew you had to pull yourself out of it and quick.
You sit next to Jaafar Jackson, extremely hyperaware of his every move. Every time he clapped quietly or every low chuckle that was meant for only him to hear.
Here and there you sneak little glances at him. He looks extremely good in person in his navy suit. The color looks amazing against his skin. Skin that is clearer than your vision.
Every side glance made your heart somersault.
At another break, the adrenaline of the night subsides and fatigue cradles your bones.
"I'm so tired," you groan aloud.
You realize you said that out loud. Panic and embarrassment coat your cheeks scarlet.
"Oh my–I didn't mean to say that out loud. I'm so sorry," you scramble.
"No, it's okay. I get it. These things are so long," Jaafar confides in you.
And he was right. No break was long enough. Tiredness plays at the backs of your eyes the more you slip into relaxing around him.
"I had no idea," you say.
"It's going to be a long night," he chuckles.
It's the best sound you ever heard. It makes you feel comfortable. Your shoulders ease, your posture not as stiff. After the break, you two slip into enjoying the show together. Laughing and clapping to music as if you were friends.
As someone performs on stage, Jaafar leans over to you.
"Wanna bounce?" He asks, his eyes completely fixed on you.
You lean closer to him to hear him but despite the proximity the words don't seem the process.
"Want to go somewhere else?" He asks again.
You glance around because surely he wasn't talking to you. You point at yourself and he nods with a smile that makes your heart skip a beat.
He slips your hand into his. Your hand becomes alive at the contact. Your eyes fix on where his skin meets yours.
Was this allowed? Could you really just leave?
You slowly drag your eyes to meet his.
Your answer formed before you could ever think it through properly.
Jaafar's smile grows at your acceptance. He takes you by the hand and gently drags you out the theater. Your mind racing as he takes you beyond what you had access to before. No idea what location or what the two of you would do.
You found it hard to care when this handsome man you only dreamed of talking to has his hand in yours, pulling you into this secluded lounge area.
"Isn't it beautiful," Jaafar says his eyes trained on you as you take in the sight.
It was a little room with one giant window that out looks the bay. Dark wooden shelves that hold books, Hollywood relics, and sculptures. A chandelier hangs above your head, casting a warm yellow light across the room.
"Yes," you say breathlessly. Walking toward the window first.
"What's this place?" you ask.
"Not sure, I found it when I was coming from the dressing rooms. Thought it was really beautiful and wanted to show someone."
Your eyes fix on how the water sparkles as the moon dances on each ripple.
"Thanks for bring me here," you tell him.
You turn to face him, and regret doing so. He looked too handsome and too untouchable standing just a few feet away from you. His eyes catch on your body as the moon illuminates your curves.
You drop eye contact first. The floor was easier and safer option. If you kept looking into those deep espresso eyes, unrealistic thoughts would continue to ghost your mind. Thoughts of touching him. Thoughts of lips on lips. Hands to body.
Just the thought makes your body heat. Every passing second your dress feels tighter and tighter. When you look up again because you love to torture yourself, you notice he's closer.
The look in his eyes is different that before. It's heavier. You could see thoughts swirling in his mind but wanted the key to unlock them. To know what thoughts play in his beautiful head.
He takes another step closer while you remain glued to the floor. Your body turns feverish the closer he gets. He invades your space without permission until he's all you can see in front of you.
Slyly he snakes a hand around your waist, your eye catching at the movement. Jaafar pulls you closer in. You feel his body heat radiating off him on your chest.
"You know, I think you're really pretty," Jaafar whispers in your ear, his voice tickling your skin.
The tone makes your body heady and heavy. Your chest rises and falls in an uneven pattern.
"You do?" you ask, your voice matching his with a hint more breath.
Nasty thoughts dance around your mind again. The longer you are in his presence, the less you care about the rules.
His other hand snakes to hold the other side of your waist.
Eyes lock into dangerous contact as his face hovers above yours. Your body buzzes alive under the darkened contact. A conversation is being had with no words. You dare him to come closer as your eyes lazily drag over the lines of his face, drinking in every perfect detail.
His face hovers close enough where his nose ghosts yours. Your lips just a whisper away from his. Almost urging your lips to connect with his but you hesitate. When he pushes forward you inch back. So when you push your lips toward his he mimics your action.
Your heart feels like it might just explode the longer you dance around what you really want.
Since you have never been the patient type, you press your lips closer to his urging him to connect them. And when he does? It's like pouring water on a small fire. Just the pressure of his lips on yours makes you feel faint with desire.
The second time his lips hits yours, it's slow and hesitant but all consuming. You are the one that opens the kiss. Tired from walking on eggshells all event you finally take charge and do what you want no regrets. You grab on to his suit jacket as the kiss gets deeper and hungrier.
He slowly waddles you backwards until your back hits the cool glass. It feels like ice against your inflamed skin.
Jaafar's large firm hands grip the sides of your face as you kiss him messily. Your hands grab possessively at the crook of his neck, nails digging into his skin. The charged air fills with the forbidden sounds of lips smacking.
Jaafar's mouth prys yours open with more force than you'd take him for. You can tell he's hungry for you. So hungry, he decides he needs more of you. He hurriedly kisses down your neck as his hands explore you.
He scrapes his teeth up your neck before kissing the tender skin. Every touch makes your body hypersensitive. The need pooling between your legs is embarrassing, your thighs are slick with your arousal under your dress.
Jaafar gathers the edge of your dress to get access to you. Just the ghost of his hand against your cunt almost sends you over. When his hands do find your dripping sex it's like cold water at 3 am. You fall over him when his fingers graze your clit.
"Wow you're so wet for me," he whispers in your ear.
A low jagged moan escapes your throat that was equal part embarrassment and turned on.
His fingers circle your clit as his lips continue to attack your neck. Your body pressed against the window. It's the most shameful thing you've ever done and you don't want him to stop ever.
Without much friction (because that's how wet you are) he shoved two collapsed fingers inside you. You moan as the tips of his fingers graze your g-spot upon entrance.
Your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fingers you. He rocks his fingers at a pace that has your toes curling in your heels. Your body so alive you completely forget about the ache dull in your feet from your shoes.
Your cunt clenches around his fingers as you get closer. You grab a fist full of his suit to steady yourself, you bite your lower lip to quickly yourself.
He lifts your chin, making you connect eyes with him.
"Let me hear you," he gently instructed.
You listen, slowly letting your bottom lip go. If you got caught at least you lived miles away.
His hand rocked faster as the ghosts of your orgasm whisper in your ears. Your eyes never leave his as he coaxes you inside an orgasm none like any other. A watery shriek escapes your throat. You feel your juices flood his fingers.
"You're so beautiful," he moans before crashing his lips onto yours harshly.
You fiddle with this pants, needing more. Jaafar throws his jacket on the floor. He must feel the same way because his hands join your hurried ones to expose his aching erection. When it spring out you see how bad he wants you. He lets you pump it. Jaafar's brows furrow as he moans lowly.
"I need you inside me," you begged. Your voice so banged it was unrecognizable to yourself. You'd think harder on it if it wasn't for the animalistic want invading your mind.
A groan escapes his throat as he picks up. His cock slips inside you like he was made for you. He's long and perfectly thick. He fills you nicely.
Your decorum and last slither of shame fade away each time he thrusts into you. Your moans get louder and wetter. His do too. It makes you feel powerful as you make him break the composed mask to puts on for the world.
The man in front of you completely juxtaposes the polite, and often quiet man in the interviews or clips you see. He's ragged and loud as he chases each thrust that feels better than the last. With this angle he's hitting spots that make you see stars.
Your body drags vertically on the glass of the window, your bodily fluids coat a greasy layer. You wondered how crazy–how hot you two look from the windows point of view. How the moonlight illuminates all the nastier parts of you.
Jaafar drags your top down to reveal your breast. Your nipples harden immediately. His hands grip hard around them, his fingers play with the sensitive bud. As if it was to over stimulate you, he kisses your neck again. Biting and sucking this time. Claiming you.
Even if you never see him after tonight, a small part of you will be his. Right now you are his. His cock pistons into you at a mechanical pace you come all over it again. You shake and clench down around him.
He continues as tears roll down your face. He kisses and licks them away. He kisses you again, it's passionate and reassuring. His tongue swipes over your teeth then deeper in your mouth as if he was on a mission to explore every part of you there was.
"I'm almost there," Jaafar promises you, his words wiggly as he fights moans that scrape his throat.
You cry out because you can't take anymore. He feels far too good all over your body. You feel like your body might just collapse at some point. Your finger nails dig underneath his dusty navy button up.
Your body shocks you when another orgasm rolls through you when he slows down. Jaafar's thrusts slow down to a clinical rhythm as if he easing his release. He hisses in your ears as you feel his cock twitch inside you. You rock your hips into his to help coax his own release.
You hold onto him tightly as he shoots thick hot ropes of cum inside of you with a loud guttural cry. You kiss just below his eye softly. You feel him shake underneath you. He needed this release just like you did.
The two of you stand there bodies intertwined, breaths mingled, and clothes ajar.
The haze cloud induced by Jaafar turns into a fog as you come down from this high. Your chest still heaves but you feel clearer head enough to finally peal off of him.
"That was the best sex I've had in a while," you puff as you pat him on the shoulder.
You put much needed distance between the two of you as you do your best to make yourself look presentable. You put your boob back in your dress. You pull your dress down so that it falls just above your toes.
In a mirror near by you fix what's left of your makeup and hair.
"Thank you for a magical night," you tell him, voice light. You lean over to kiss his cheek.
"So that's it? I won't see you again?" his voice betraying him.
"Yes," he answers quickly, he notices it to, you see red ghosting his cheeks.
You didn't think that was possible. You don't see how it. You don't live here and he's busy.
Jaafar hands cup your face again, and you allow yourself to melt into him. He kisses you with intention that screams I'm not letting you go that easily.
Even after having sex with him, he still managed to make you feel like a school girl with a crush. When the kiss breaks, you don't dare meet his eyes.
"Please put your number in my phone and answer when I call," He pulls his phone from his pocket and hands it to you.
You note that his contact list is fairly short before you add your name and number.
"I'll go back first," Jaafar checks his watch, "they are probably going to wrap up soon."
Right. The Award show. The reason why you met him in the first place.
Jaafar kisses you one more time and promises to call, leaving you to feel the pulsing ache of him alone.
