valentine @icedhirayalatte - Tumblr Blog

about me

filipina | '96 | libra

current hyperfixations: jaafar jackson, antonio cipriano, nct and barbara palvin-sprouse, 5sos

i write fanfiction since middle school :> but this blog focuses to jaafar jackson only. i used to edit vids as well before for 5sos!

note: yes i always use barbara as my muse! check my masterlist here

httpsvalentinelatte

its your birthday make a wish - chapter one

succubus!reader x jaafar jackson

on the suffocating set of his latest film, an exhausted jaafar feels entirely detached from his life, his family, and his girlfriend, maddie. trapped in his own head, he becomes obsessed with the memory of a spectral woman who haunted his senses after he smoked a rare, vintage blunt.

warnings: swearing, mentions of drugs

the set was a mess of tangled cables and blinding spotlights, the kind of environment that usually fed his ego, but tonight it just felt suffocating. jaafar had been running on fumes for weeks, pushing himself through the sequel filming because being a leo meant never letting the shine fade, even when he was burnt to a crisp.

he’d completely lost track of the days, buried in lines and blocking, until the clock on the wall hit midnight.

suddenly, the room was full of noise. maddie was there, beaming, holding a cake that looked like a tiny island of warmth in the middle of the soundstage. his mom, jermajesty, and randy were right behind her, their voices rising in that familiar, off-key birthday chorus.

jaafar stood there, feeling like he was watching a movie of his own life. he plastered on his best smile, the one that made the fans scream, but god, it felt heavy.

"happy birthday, baby," his mom said, pulling him into a hug that smelled like home lavender and expensive fabric softener. "you look like you’re drifting away on me. take a breath, okay? the cameras will still be there tomorrow."

randy leaned against a lighting rig, looking way too relaxed. "mom’s right, j. you’ve been running yourself into the ground. let the star dim for five minutes, yeah?"

maddie stepped closer, her hand resting on his arm, her eyes full of that sweet, genuine concern that usually made his chest swell. but tonight, it just felt… quiet. like something was missing, a piece of the puzzle that he couldn't quite place. "you okay, jaafar? you seem like you’re somewhere else entirely."

jermajesty hovered near the back, his eyes sharp and unreadable. "he's just working too hard, aren't you, j? don't let them kill your vibe, though. maybe the best parts of the night happen when you stop trying so hard."

jaafar couldn't take it—the noise, the expectations, the way everyone looked at him like he was a monument instead of a person. "i, uh—i need a minute. restroom. be right back."

he walked out, the silence of the hallway hitting him like a physical wall. that’s when he saw it. a new vending machine he’d never seen before, tucked into a dark corner. it was buzzing—a low, hypnotic sound that made his teeth ache. his eyes locked onto a single chocolate bar on the top shelf. it was practically glowing, the logo a swirl of gold that looked exactly, hauntingly, like your eyes.

get a grip, he told himself, walking past it. it’s just a snack, man. you’re losing it.

he ducked into the restroom, splashing ice-cold water on his face, trying to scrub the phantom scent of you out of his head. but when he stepped back out, the air was thick with it—sandalwood, jasmine and peach. it was radiating from the vending machine. he was a fool, he knew it, but he pushed his money in anyway. the nectar bar dropped with a thud.

he tore the wrapper off, muttering to himself, "this is insane. you’re talking to a chocolate bar because you’re high and you miss a ghost. you’re a mess, jaafar."

then he saw the note tucked inside: put your hands together. it’s your birthday jaafar, make a wish.

his heart hammered against his ribs. he squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his palms together, and pleaded with the universe. be real. please, just be real. i don't want the dream, i want to see you again.

he waited. nothing. just the hum of the machine. the spell he’d felt.

the weird, magnetic pull—suddenly snapped, leaving him feeling cold and ridiculous. he started laughing, a jagged, broken sound that echoed in the empty hall. "what a joke," he whispered, tossing the wrapper inside his pocket

the air behind the equipment crates was heavy, and the way jaafar was breathing—short, jagged bursts—made the smirk on jermajesty’s face finally slide off. jaafar didn’t just pull him aside; he shoved him back into the shadows, his fingers biting into his brother’s arm.

"the blunt," jaafar hissed, his voice so low it felt like a vibration in the dark. "the one you handed me last month. look at me, maj. where the hell did it actually come from?"

jermajesty tried to shrug it off, his eyes flicking toward the set to make sure no one was watching. "whoa, chill, j. you’re tweaking. i just found it on the living room table, man. figured you were stressed and needed a break. why are you acting like i tried to poison you?" he gestured toward the pocket where jaafar had stuffed the nectar bar.

"honestly, that chocolate looks better than whatever mood you’re in. hand it over."

"don't you dare touch it," jaafar snapped. his usual cool was completely gone, replaced by a raw, frantic edge that made jermajesty stop dead. "do you have any idea what this is? do you have any idea what that smoke did to me?"

jermajesty’s face hardened, his voice losing that joking rhythm. "it’s a blunt, jaafar. if you’re losing your mind over a high from weeks ago, that’s on you. i’m not taking responsibility for your head."

"you’re damn right you’re taking responsibility, because you’re the one who put it in my hand!" jaafar’s voice dropped to a harsh whisper, vibrating with a lethal kind of control. "maj, stop acting like you’re oblivious. i know you. so tell me, right now, before i make you regret ever finding that thing."

jermajesty stared at him, really seeing the desperation in his brother’s eyes, and finally, the bravado crumbled. he sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "fine. damn. i didn't find it on the table, okay? randy left it there. i just saw it and thought of you. ask him yourself."

jaafar didn't wait. he marched over, grabbed randy by the jacket, and hauled him into the huddle, ignoring his protests. "randy. the blunt. where did you get it?"

randy looked between them, his brow furrowed, clearly confused by the sudden aggression. "what? the vintage stuff? i picked it up from that antique shop near the pier. the guy said it was some rare, organic blend. what is the problem?"

"the shop," jaafar pushed, his voice tight. "did you get the chocolate there, too?"

randy blinked, looking at the nectar wrapper sticking out of jaafar’s hand. "yeah, the shopkeeper threw that in for free when i bought the bundle. he said it was a gift for 'the boy who shines.' it smells insane, doesn't it?"

randy reached out to take the chocolate, but jaafar yanked it away, his knuckles pale. he turned his full, icy focus back to jermajesty.

"maj, listen to me," jaafar whispered, the intensity in his tone making the air feel suffocating. "i am not your experiment. i’m not a toy for you to test things on. if you ever bring me something from that place again—if you ever cross that line without asking—you’re going to find out exactly how little i care about the fact that we’re family. do you understand me?"

jermajesty held his brother’s gaze, the silence stretching until it felt painful. he finally gave a slow, reluctant nod, all the cockiness gone. "i hear you, j. i won't touch it again."

jaafar didn't say another word. he just turned and walked away, leaving his brothers in the shadows of the set, the scent of sandalwood, jasmine and peach still clinging to his skin like a curse.

the trailer felt colder than it should have, even with the heater humming in the corner.

maddie sat against the headboard, knees drawn up, watching jaafar as he finished changing. the silence between them stretched out, heavy and unfamiliar. she had hoped tonight might bridge some of the gap that had been growing for weeks, but the moment he climbed into bed, that familiar emotional wall was already there.

when she shifted closer and let her hand rest lightly on his arm, nothing stirred in him. his body stayed unresponsive, distant in a way that went beyond just physical. maddie pulled back slowly, the quiet rejection settling deep in her chest.

“jaafar,” she said, her voice tight with frustration, “what the hell is happening to us? you’re right here but it feels like you’re miles away.”

he sighed, staring up at the ceiling instead of meeting her eyes. “i’m sorry, maddie. my mind’s just… not here. work’s been eating me alive and i can’t even relax enough to be close to you.”

she let out a short, hurt laugh, scooting further away on the bed. the space between them suddenly felt deliberate. “that’s the thing. it’s not just tonight. you’ve been pulling away for weeks now. emotionally, physically everything. i talk to you and it’s like you’re listening through fog. i try to reach you and there’s nothing. no spark, no warmth, just… this emptiness.”

maddie hugged her arms around herself, the anger mixing with a deeper ache. “i miss the man who used to look at me like i was his whole world. now i feel like i’m competing with whatever’s going on in your head, and i’m losing. badly.”

jaafar turned his head toward her, but his gaze still felt far off, guarded. “i don’t want it to be like this. i’m trying, but…”

“trying?” she cut in softly, shaking her head. “it doesn’t feel like it anymore. right now, it just feels like i’m alone even when you’re lying right next to me.”

the quiet that followed was louder than any argument. maddie turned onto her side, facing the wall, the emotional distance between them wider than it had ever been.

jaafar stayed on his back, silent, both of them trapped in their own heads, the connection they once shared feeling more like a memory than reality.

jaafar didn't move for a long time, his eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles. he wanted to reach out, to smooth the tension out of her shoulders, but every time he tried to focus on her, the memory of that sandalwood and peach scent crowded his senses. he felt like he was suffocating, trapped between the woman he was supposed to love and the phantom that had latched onto his mind.

he rolled onto his side, his movements heavy. "maddie," he started, his voice barely a murmur. he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the fabric of her sleep shirt, but he didn't pull her into his arms. it felt dishonest. "i know it feels like i'm not here. but it's not you. it's not you, okay?"

maddie didn't turn around. the bed sheet was pulled tight against her frame, a wall of cotton separating them. "then tell me, jaafar. if it’s not me, what is it? because i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep loving a ghost."

the word ghost hit him right in the sternum. he felt a sudden, sharp urge to tell her everything—about the blunt, about the vending machine, about the way he still had that dress tucked away in his drawer like a dirty secret. but the words stuck in his throat, dry and impossible. if he told her, she’d think he’d finally snapped. he was barely holding onto his own sanity as it was.

"it's work," he lied, the words tasting like ash. "it’s the pressure, the cameras, everyone wanting a piece of me until there’s nothing left. i’m just… fried, maddie. i’m sorry."

she finally turned over, the light from the trailer window casting sharp shadows across her face. her eyes weren't angry anymore; they just looked tired. "you used to come home and i was your safe place. now you come home and you look like you’re waiting for the walls to close in."

she didn't wait for an answer. she just closed her eyes, the distance between them feeling like a canyon.

jaafar lay there for what felt like hours, his skin buzzing with a restless, frantic energy. he couldn't sleep. every time he closed his eyes, he saw those golden eyes from the nectar logo. he shifted, his hand accidentally brushing against his own pocket where he’d stuffed that wrapper, the paper crinkling in the silence.

he felt a wave of nausea. he was ruining things—ruining us—over a high that wouldn't end.

he quietly slid out of the bed, the cold air of the trailer hitting his sweat-slicked skin. he didn't look back at maddie, who was already breathing in that slow, steady rhythm of sleep. he moved to the small kitchenette, his hands trembling as he poured a glass of water.

he stared out the small trailer window into the dark lot. somewhere out there, in the quiet of the night, he felt like something or someone was watching him. he touched his chest, right over his heart, and for a split second, he could have sworn he smelled it again. that faint, sweet, impossible scent of jasmine.

you’re losing it, jaafar, he told himself, but as he stood there in the dark, he realized he didn't even want to be found.

the knock was sharp, rhythmic, and enough to pull jaafar from that weird, half-conscious state he’d been trapped in for hours. he didn't even glance at maddie, who was still dead to the world, before sliding out of bed. he pulled on a hoodie, his movements jerky, and threw the trailer door open.

jermajesty stood there, looking way too awake for 2:00 am. he held out a thick, cream-colored envelope. no return address, just his name written in ink that seemed to shimmer even in the shitty fluorescent porch light.

"what is this?" jaafar hissed, his voice raw.

"don't know, don't care," jermajesty shrugged, though his eyes were sharp. "just figured you needed to see it."

jaafar didn't wait. he grabbed the envelope and shoved jermajesty off the steps, ushering him toward the back of the lot where the shadows were deep. he saw randy leaning against his car, looking bored, and practically dragged him into the huddle.

"randy. now," jaafar said, his voice vibrating with a dangerous edge. "the shop. the antique one. we’re talking about it. because i’m not losing my mind alone anymore."

he reached into his pocket, pulling out the remains of that blunt randy had 'found.' he didn't bother hiding his shaking hands as he lit it, taking a long, jagged hit. the smoke swirled, and he turned his eyes on his brothers, his gaze piercing.

"you two tell me. what did it feel like for you?" jaafar asked, his voice low, desperate. "when you smoked this, what did you see? tell me it wasn't just me."

randy and jermajesty exchanged a look, both of them shifting uncomfortably.

"it was a rush, j," randy started, his voice hushed. "i felt heavy. like i was sinking into the couch, yeah, but it wasn't just a high. i felt like... like i was being watched from the corners of the room. it wasn't pleasant."

jermajesty nodded, his face uncharacteristically serious. "i felt like i was floating, but my body felt like it was miles away. i kept hearing whispers in another language. it made me feel like i was standing on the edge of something i wasn't supposed to see."

jaafar let out a harsh, jagged laugh, the smoke curling around his face like a shroud. "a rush? whispers? that’s all you got?"

he took another drag, his eyes glazing over. "for me? it’s her. it’s not just a high; it’s living a second life. she’s a succubus, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but she feels so real. her skin, her touch... it’s electric, randy. it’s the way she looks at me, like she’s the only one who actually sees the weight i’m carrying. the way she tastes, like peaches and sandalwood... it’s driving me insane."

randy stepped forward, his expression pale. "jaafar... j, listen to me. that shopkeeper? he didn't just sell me a blunt. he told me the stuff in that collection came from a place that doesn't exist on any map. he said it was for 'those who feel too much.'"

"i don't care about the salesman," jaafar snapped, clutching the envelope so hard the paper began to tear. "i care that i can't go back to normal. randy, please. you have to take me to that shop."

"it’s the middle of the night, j," randy tried to reason, but jaafar wasn't hearing it.

"i’m begging you, randy," jaafar said, his voice breaking as he stepped into his brother’s space, his eyes wide and pleading.

"i’m not joking. i need to go there. i need to find the source. if you don't take me, i’ll drive until i find it myself. just take me to the shop. please."

randy and jermajesty exchanged a worried look. they’d never seen jaafar this unglued.

"fine," randy exhaled, pulling the keys from his pocket. "but if we're walking into something dark, don't say i didn't warn you."

the pier was dead silent, save for the rhythmic slap of dark water against the wooden pilings. it was 2:38 am, and honestly? there was nothing. just empty boat slips and the smell of saltwater.

randy walked in circles, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, his face pale under the streetlights. "i don't get it, man. this is it. this is where i parked. i swear to god, the shop was right next to that bait shack."

"you sure you weren't on some other shit when you bought that blunt?" jermajesty snapped, pacing the edge of the dock, his frustration boiling over. "because we’re standing in the middle of nowhere, j is losing his mind, and i’m starting to think you’re just messing with us."

"i’m not messing with anyone!" randy fired back, his voice rising, his eyes wide and darting toward the dark water. "i bought the damn thing here! i don't know why it’s not—"

"shut up," jaafar growled, his eyes fixed on the envelope. he tore it open, pulling out the map that had been hidden behind the dried jasmine petal.

he held it up to the dim light of the pier, and the ink seemed to pulse with a faint, shimmering, sickly glow. he traced the lines with his thumb, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird. "it’s not a mistake. the map says we’re exactly where we need to be."

jermajesty let out a frantic, shaky laugh, raking his fingers through his hair until it was a knotted mess. "are you serious? this is wild shit, man. we’re three grown-ass men standing on a pier in the middle of the night looking for a ghost shop that doesn't exist. i’m out. this is too much. my head feels like it’s vibrating."

"it’s my birthday," jaafar cut him off, his voice ice-cold, vibrating with an intensity that silenced the pier. he didn't care about the skepticism anymore. he didn't care about the logic that dictated this was impossible. "it’s three in the morning, and my phone just went off."

he pulled his phone from his pocket. there was an alarm—a shrill, jarring tone he definitely hadn't set—displaying a single word in bold, black text: arrive.

randy and jermajesty both leaned in, their faces turning ghost-white. randy pointed toward the far end of the pier, his hand trembling so hard it looked like he was vibrating. "uh, guys? look."

the air rippled like heat over pavement, and suddenly, the space between the warehouses began to bleed into existence. a storefront flickered into view, glowing with an eerie, rhythmic pulse that matched the frantic beating of jaafar’s heart. it looked ancient, constructed of dark, warped timber that seemed to inhale and exhale with the tide. the windows were frosted with grime, yet light spilled from within—a sickly, intoxicating amber hue that felt entirely, impossibly wrong.

jaafar looked down at the note that had appeared inside the envelope, the handwriting elegant and archaic. present the key to the keeper. do not look back. .

"i’m going in," jaafar said, his voice quiet but absolute. the black metal key felt unnaturally heavy, almost burning, against his palm.

"j, don't," jermajesty pleaded, his voice breaking. he grabbed jaafar’s shoulder, looking like he was about to have a full-blown panic attack. "look at this place! it’s not normal. whatever is in there, it’s not human. just come home, man, please. we can forget the shop, forget the blunt, just come back to the car."

"you're being a coward, maj," jaafar said, his expression softening just a fraction, but the obsession in his eyes was blinding. it was you. it was always going to be you. he couldn't hear the warnings; he could only hear the phantom call of the sandalwood and peach, the promise of your touch that haunted every waking moment.

"oh, i'm the coward?" jermajesty shouted, shoving jaafar’s shoulder back, his face flushed with panicked rage. "you're the one acting like you're possessed by a damn chocolate bar! you're going to get yourself killed or worse, and you want me to just stand here and watch?"

"quit it, both of you!" randy yelled, stepping between them, though his own legs were visibly shaking. "we're literally standing in front of a building that just appeared out of thin air! can we focus on that instead of killing each other?"

"if i’m not back in an hour," jaafar said, placing a heavy hand on randy’s chest to push him back, effectively cutting off the bickering, "you know exactly where to find me. don't follow me. don't try to be heroes. just… if it gets bad, you know where i went."

"and if you don't come back?" jermajesty countered, his voice trembling as he looked at the dark threshold of the shop. "what if you're gone? what if you just... cease to exist, or end up in some other dimension where you're never coming back to earth again? i'm not dealing with that, j! i'm not living in a world where my brother is some ghost story!"

"you are so dramatic, maj, shut the hell up," randy snapped, though he looked just as terrified. "nobody is ceasing to exist. jaafar is just... he's just losing his mind, that's all. right, j?"

jaafar didn't answer them. he was staring at the note, his eyes tracking new lines of text manifesting on the parchment in real-time. the incense of binding. a vial of silver tears. the final toll is a drop of his own blood on the altar.

the door creaked open, exhaling a gust of air that smelled like ozone and dried jasmine. it was heavy, suffocating.

jermajesty immediately whipped out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen. "mom, don't ask. we’re at the pier, jaafar’s having a total breakdown, and if we don't make it back, tell the lawyers to settle everything. seriously, j’s gone off the deep end and i don't think we’re coming back from this," he muttered, his voice pitching up into that dramatic, high-stress register he only hit when he was genuinely terrified.

"you're such a drama queen, put the phone away," randy hissed, though he looked just as shaky, his knuckles white where he gripped his jacket.

"who goes first?" jermajesty whispered, looking at the dark maw of the shop. "i'm not going first. i have a life, i have a life to protect."

"fine, i'll do it," randy snapped. he stepped over the threshold, his shoulders hunched. he stopped dead, blinking hard. "it’s... it’s all blurry. like i’m looking through a camera lens that won't focus."

jaafar shoved past him, the black metal key burning in his hand. inside, the place was a labyrinth of mismatched shelves and glass jars. behind a counter that looked like it was made of calcified bone stood an old man. he was hunched over, his hair a wild, matted mane of snow-white tangled locks, his eyes milky and sharp like the witch from some fucked-up fairytale.

jaafar slammed the envelope onto the counter. the old man’s lipless mouth curled into a grin. "ah. you're here for lilith. the temptress."

randy leaned in, his voice tight. "who the hell is lilith? and what kind of shop is this? this is insane, j, we need to–"

"don't," jaafar cut him off, his voice lethal. he turned to randy, eyes wild. "you say one more word to him, and i swear to god, randy, you're not leaving here. shut up."

the old man cackled, a dry, rasping sound, and shuffled into the back. they could hear him clattering with metal, the sound of glass breaking, and something that sounded suspiciously like a low, inhuman growl.

he came back, dropping a heavy, ornate box on the counter. he looked at jaafar, sliding a fresh, shimmering bar of nectar toward him. "eat. follow the instructions. don't miss a step, or the debt becomes permanent."

jermajesty stood in the corner, his hands pressed against his ears, whispering a silent prayer that his brother wouldn't turn into a puddle of goo.

jaafar unwrapped the chocolate, the scent of crushed flowers hitting him before the first bite. he chewed, the bitter cocoa hitting his tongue just as the old man pointed to the vial of silver tears and the obsidian needle.

"they must be real," the old man rasped. "tears of a memory that burns. blood of the one who seeks."

jaafar didn't need to fake the grief. he closed his eyes and summoned the ache—the way your scent haunted his trailer, the way he felt so incredibly lonely even when the world was screaming his name.

he let a single, heavy tear fall into the vial, then pressed the needle into his forearm. he dragged the point just enough to draw a bright, ruby drop, letting it splash onto the cold altar stone.

as the blood hit the altar, the shop seemed to melt away. the walls dissolved into a vast, swirling dreamscape. the ceiling vanished, replaced by a pure-white moon that hung low and heavy in the sky, lighting up the space like a spotlight.

the atmosphere changed—it was a kaleidoscope of past and present, everything pointing to you. the bearings of a half-moon shifted in the sky above him, the curve of it mirroring the exact shape of your eyes.

he followed the man’s raspy directions, his movements turning rhythmic, fluid. under the faint, ethereal light, jaafar felt himself drifting. it was as if he and the dreamscape were flowing together, a pulse beating against the world’s encroaching darkness. he wasn't just a man anymore; he was a vessel, and every step he took in this bizarre, moonlight-drenched shop was leading him straight to where you were waiting.

"how are you feeling?" randy whispered, looking at jaafar with pure terror.

jaafar didn't answer. he couldn't. the world had gone quiet, and all he could see was the light in your eyes reflected in the moon above.

the silence in the shop was heavy, the kind that rings in your ears. the old man stood there, his long, jagged fingernails tapping against the wood of the counter. he let out a slow, wheezing breath that sounded like a sigh of relief.

"it is done," he rasped, his milky eyes pinning jaafar to the spot. "congratulations, boy. and a happy birthday to you."

randy and jermajesty exchanged a look, both of them looking like they wanted to bolt, but they were frozen. the man reached under the counter and pulled out a necklace. it was a piece of raw, jagged diamond, hanging from a chain that looked like woven silver wire.

"this belonged to the sirens of old, but for a temptress like her? it is her anchor. if it leaves her neck—or yours—the tether snaps. keep it close. do not let it be stolen, do not let it be seen, and for the love of everything, do not take it off."

jermajesty felt a shiver claw its way down his spine. he nodded, his throat too tight to speak. randy just stared at the diamond, his expression a mix of awe and pure, unadulterated terror.

jaafar, however, reached out and took the necklace, his fingers brushing the stone. he didn't feel scared; he felt a sudden, electric sense of purpose.

"you will meet her in a while," the old man said, his grin fading into a flat, cryptic line.

jaafar stepped forward, his heart thudding. "how long is a while?"

the old man just stared back, refusing to give him a timeline. "she's excited to see you too."

that was it. he turned his back on them, and the shop’s light flickered and died. they stumbled back out onto the pier, the morning air biting at their skin. the wood groaned as they hit the docks, and when they turned around, the storefront was gone. it was just empty, decaying pilings and the dark, indifferent water.

jermajesty whipped out his phone, his thumb hovering over the screen. "5:05 am. we were in there for two hours? it felt like five minutes." he paused, then let out a sharp, audible crack as he slapped his own cheek hard enough to leave a red mark. "ow. god, that’s real. that’s actually real."

"we’re all losing it," randy muttered, his voice hollow. "this has to be some kind of mass hallucination."

they walked back to the car in a daze, the weight of the night settling into their bones. randy started the engine, his hands shaking on the wheel as he pulled away from the pier. for the first ten minutes, the car was silent, the hum of the tires on the asphalt the only thing tethering them to reality.

randy tried to clear the air, his voice too loud in the cramped space. "so, uh, are we just going to pretend we didn't just walk out of some fucked up dimension-hopping antique shop, or are we—"

he didn't get to finish. the stereo in the suv suddenly flickered to life, even though randy hadn't touched the dial. it wasn't the radio; it was a sound that seemed to come from everywhere at once a low, melodic, dreamy chime that sounded like starlight hitting water.

jermajesty let out a string of curses, his hands gripping the edges of his seat. "what the fuck, randy? turn it off! turn it off now, you asshole!"

"i’m trying! the buttons aren't doing anything!" randy yelled, his foot heavy on the gas as the music grew louder, more intoxicating, winding around them like a physical touch. "this is that goddamn witch craft! i told you that antique place was bad news, i told you! and now look at us—some ghost bitch is about to kill us because of your birthday, j!"

jaafar didn't move. he sat in the passenger seat, his pulse racing, his hand tight around the diamond necklace. he knew. he felt the air in the backseat get cooler, a sudden, heavy pressure blooming in the space behind his head.

the car seemed to grow smaller, the silence outside pressing in against the windows. jaafar’s heart was hammering against his ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the song. then, a breath of sandalwood and peach brushed against the back of his neck, sharp and sweet.

"boo."

a soft, playful whisper right against his ear.

"happy birthday, jaafar."

its you back on earth. lilith is back on earth

prettyangeliczz

BITCH I JUST MOANED-

gravenoirr

AND DID THAT

MICHAEL HAS OFFICIALLY HIT 1B in box office. THE FIRST EVER BLACK BIOPIC TO DO THAT!! THIS IS A MOMENT IN HISTORY TAKE A MF PICTURE!

dearjaafar

⌞ Jaafar Jackson @ Wimbledon, 07.12.26 ♡ ⌝

hii! can we get some angst in break up with your fiancée? maybe jaafar does something really trifling to y/n, and she completely removes herself from him. then he ends up begging for her back, but her friends are genuinely convincing her not to go back to him. idk, i hope you get the gist of what i'm trying to say lol. take care, and take your time <3

I WAS THINKING THE SAME THING IT WOULD BE A MESSY STORY NOW HAHAHA its angst-drama time 😭😫

You inspire me to write fics for jaafar 😭😭😭 how do you write please help me

ALWAYS BRING A NOTEBOOK! (If you’re that type of person) a lot of songs actually made me to write some scenarios or a whole scenarios!!! so write whatever comes up into your mind. then, at night you can pull out an all nighter to correct the errors and more scenarios if needed! 🩷 hope this helps (?)

i love the fact that you make series of jaafar fanfics! because not a lot of people does that 🥲 i love you and you are one of my favorite authors!!! don’t stop writing please

i love you anon! i don’t plan to stop, there are more upcoming jaafar fics so watch out for it 🤪

lady-in-your-life

httpsvalentinelatte

WICKED GAMES •• PROLOGUE

stalker, sugar daddy!jaafar x actress!reader

warnings: dead dove do not eat dark romance, smut (yes it includes gun play, knife play, stockholm syndrome (?), suspense) note: if you're uncomfortable with the warnings ahead please skip this fan fiction. release date: mid october!

the afternoon light hit the floor, dusty and stale, just like the mood in your chest. your phone wouldn't stop vibrating against the wood, a relentless, buzzing reminder of the person you couldn't escape.

it was another call from your enemy—your mother. she’d been begging you for months not to go to your grandmother's manor, and here she was again.

"y/n! i told you not to stay in there!" your mother’s voice was shouting through the speakers. you rolled your eyes, already exhausted.

"you were exactly just like your grandmother!" your mother added.

you couldn't stand another word. she always acted like she knew you best, but she didn’t know a thing about you. she didn’t even know your birthday, yet here she was, acting like a hypocrite.

"mother?" you called out, cutting her off.

she paused, hoping you’d finally changed your mind, that you’d realize california and this victorian manor weren't for you.

"what now, y/n?" she asked.

"fuck you." you ended the call just like that.

you grew up with your grandmother, not your mother.

your mother always hated you, acting like you were the one who took away her youth.

this manor had become your comfort, your safe space ever since that incident with the fan—the one who gave you that poisoned mango-coconut drink.

you almost died, and while it hadn't been dramatic, jaafar was there.

jaafar wasn't your typical sugar daddy.

he was the person who made you a star, pulling every string to get you where you were. even though you were the same age, he insisted you were his baby girl, his precious little girl. to jaafar, you belonged only to him.

he never seemed strict or possessive—not until that incident.

you were fading in and out of consciousness when you heard his voice echoing in the hallway, dripping with a coldness that made your blood run slow. he was talking to one of his men, his tone void of any mercy.

"i want you to drag that piece of shit into the basement," jaafar said, his voice flat and terrifying.

"don't let him talk. don't let him breathe right. i want him waiting there, broken, until i get there. i’m going to kill that bastard with my own hands. he had the nerve to touch what’s mine? he’s going to wish he was dead already." jaafar added.

you trembled, the sound of his voice staying with you even after you woke up.

you left the industry. you were scared of being followed, terrified that someone would poison you again. you made sure no one would know you, that no one could trace you.

you traded your luxury life for a quiet existence as a painter, buying your things in bulk to stay under the radar. you avoided everyone. despite still loving jaafar, you chose your peace.

yet, you were still being followed. you could feel it that familiar, heavy weight on your skin. someone was out there, watching you from the trees, looking at you right now. you still didn't know who the stalker was, but you knew he was waiting.

instead of hiding, you slowly slipped your thin dress off your shoulders. it dropped to the floor, leaving you completely bare. cool air kissed your nipples, tightening them instantly. you cupped your breasts, squeezing softly, rolling your thumbs over the sensitive peaks until a quiet whimper escaped your lips.

your hand slid down your stomach, fingers dipping between your thighs. you were already so wet. the first touch to your clit made your knees weak.

you leaned against the window frame, legs parting wider, giving whoever was hiding in the shadows a full view.

two fingers circled slow at first, then faster, pressing harder. soft moans spilled out of you as you pushed two fingers inside, curling them deep while your thumb rubbed your swollen clit.

your hips rocked forward, fucking yourself right there against the glass.

"mmh… fuck…" you breathed, forehead resting on the cool pane. the feeling of being watched made everything hotter, dirtier. you imagined those eyes tracing every tremble, every slick sound. you spread your legs even more, adding a third finger, stretching yourself as your moans grew breathier.

your free hand braced on the window like you were offering your body to him. thighs shaking. breath fogging the glass. the pressure built fast, tight and overwhelming, until it crashed over you.

you came hard with a broken cry, clenching around your fingers as slick dripped down your thighs. your body jerked with every wave, but you kept touching, slow and lazy, drawing it out while soft little whimpers kept falling from your lips.

you stayed there, naked and flushed, staring into the dark garden, letting the stranger’s eyes drink you in.

you had no idea it was.but the idea of giving him a show is exciting.

something’s wrong with you and you know that.

you had no idea he was standing just beyond the trees, jaw tight, cock straining painfully against his pants as he watched his precious little girl come so beautifully for him.

soon he’d remind you who you really belonged to.

the phone screen lights up the dark room, and for a second, you’re blinded. when you see the notification, your heart just drops into your stomach. it’s from an unknown number.

unknown: you looked so good by the window earlier. i honestly couldn't take my eyes off you.

you stop breathing. your fingers are shaking so hard you almost drop the phone.

unknown: touching yourself like that when you think no one's around... it was mesmerizing. unknown: did you feel me? i was close enough to hear you breathing.

the air in the room suddenly feels way too thin. you stare at the screen, your skin crawling, and for a second, the house feels less like a safe space and more like a cage. you don't even realize you've dropped the phone until it hits the floor with a dull thud, and the silence in the manor is suddenly loud enough to make your ears ring.

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

a tear slipped down your cheeks when you look up at him, voice small and shaky. “are you going to shoot me?”

jaafar cups your face right away, thumbs brushing them away so tenderly it almost hurts. he leans in and kisses you deep, slow at first, then hungrier, his tongue sliding against yours until your head feels fuzzy and the fear starts bleeding into something warmer.

when he pulls back, forehead pressed to yours, he whispers, “no, princess. i would never kill you. i could never do that to you. i only want to keep you safe… keep you all to myself.”

he kisses you again, softer this time, before guiding you down onto your knees. you wrap your lips around his cock, taking him in warm and wet, sucking him gently while your tongue traces every vein.

he runs the cool gun along your skin, teasing your nipples until they ache, then slides it lower. the barrel presses against your dripping entrance and pushes in slowly, stretching you open with that shocking cold that makes you gasp around his thickness.

“fuck… there you go,” he breathes, starting to move the gun in lazy, deep strokes, curling it right where you need it. “see? i’d never do anything to lose you. you’re overthinking again, baby. those messages were just me loving you from a distance, making sure you were okay. you leave the curtains open and touch yourself so sweetly… it’s like you were calling me to watch. you wanted me to see, didn’t you?”

you nod desperately around his cock, sucking him deeper, cheeks hollowing as more spit drips down your chin. the cold metal feels so strange and full inside you, every thrust making your pussy flutter and drip, pleasure twisting up with the fear in the best kind of way.

“good girl,” jaafar groans, his hand gentle in your hair as he rocks his hips, feeding you more of his cock.

“your body always knows what it wants. you were made for this… made for me.”

he starts thrusting the gun a little faster, hitting that spot over and over while you bob on him, sloppy and eager, throat tightening around his length.

the mix of sensations is driving you crazy—his hot, heavy cock filling your mouth, the icy gun stretching and rubbing your soaked pussy, slick sounds getting louder with every move.

you pull off just enough to beg, voice all wrecked and needy. “please jaafar… please let me cum. i need it so bad, i can’t take much more..”

“keep begging, princess. you sound so pretty when you’re desperate like this.”

your hips grind down onto the gun as the words tumble out. “please… let me cum on it… i’ll be so good, i promise! just please let me cum—”

he cups your tear-streaked cheek again, thumb stroking softly while he pushes the gun deeper, twisting it perfectly. “that’s my girl. tell me how badly you need it.”

“please i’m right there! t feels too good, i can’t hold i please jaafar, let me cum, i need to cum so fucking bad—” you moan, sucking him back in messily, desperate and dripping.

“cum for me now, princess,” he growls, voice low and rough. “let go, baby. let me feel you.”

the orgasm slams into you hard, your pussy clenching and pulsing wildly around the cold gun as waves of pleasure crash through your whole body. you moan loud around his cock, shaking and trembling, thighs slick as you fall apart completely for him.

jaafar keeps you there, murmuring soft praises through every shiver, holding you like you’re the only thing that matters.

#jaafar #jaafar jackson #jaafar fanfic #jaafar imagine #jaafar jackson fanfic #jaafar jackson x reader #jaafar jackson x yn #jaafar x reader #jaafar jackson smut #jaafar smut

icedhirayalatte

break up with your fiancé, cause i’m bored - chapter eight

warnings: cheating, SMUT DISCLAIMER: if you’re uncomfortable with cheating PLEASE DO NOT READ/INTERACT with this story. next update: weekend ;)

he saw the hesitation on your face and pulled back immediately. he wouldn’t press you. he knew you were miserable, and he knew you’d talk when the fever finally broke and you were feeling more like yourself again. "just focus on resting," he whispered, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple. "i'll be back before you know it."

“and jaafar?” you called him before he closed the door. you hesitated, struggling to say the words out loud, you badly wanted to say that you like him, you wanted to admit your true feelings –– the fact that maddie was at the back of your mind you could only shrug it off. “take care.” you said, it was soft.

delicate, pure with care.

he knows what you feel, he can sense it of course. “i love you y/n. i will take care.”

the paris sun was absolutely brutal.

but jaafar stepped into it like it was nothing.

he looked incredible in that navy pinstriped blazer, the deep, plunging neckline showing just enough skin, paired with those wide-leg trousers that made him look like modern royalty.

he looked like a prince, effortlessly cool, but he didn’t have a clue what the girls by the barricade were whispering.

"t'as vu comment il marche? il a l'air d'avoir baisé toute la nuit, cette femme doit être épuisée," one girl snickered, loud enough to cut through the noise. (did you see how he walks? he looks like he's been fucking all night, that woman must be exhausted.)

her friend leaned in, squinting at him. "c’est clair. et son aura, elle est totalement différente depuis le japon. il a l'air plus rayonnant, plus sûr de lui, comme s'il était devenu un autre homme." (for sure. and his aura is totally different since japan. he looks more glowing, more confident, like he's become a completely different man.)

"il a une maîtresse, c'est sûr. ils ont crié et gémi tellement fort hier soir, on l'entendait depuis la rue," the first girl added, laughing. (he definitely has a mistress. they were screaming and moaning so loud last night, we could hear them from the street.)

jaafar just flashed them that charming, oblivious smile, completely unaware that he was the center of a scandal.

you watched the tweets start to trickle in, rumors about some mystery woman. it was still quiet, but you couldn't wait for the moment maddie finally stumbled across it. you joined the people circulating the rumors. you were having fun despite drying inside because of your cold that turns into a hellish cough and you know for sure. you needed to see a doctor.

maddie was already losing it. she knew he was pulling away.

he was distant, quiet, and he wasn't messaging her back.

she did what she always does when she feels like she's losing control: she went back to her old self. she had those burner twitter accounts set up, stalking his every move, trying to figure out why he was so silent.

when she didn't find answers about him, she started digging into you.

she was obsessed.

she wanted to know how you became who you are, how you got the life and the opportunities she thought belonged to her.

watching her scroll through your life, getting bitterer by the minute while she sat in the dark—it felt good. for her, it wasn't fair.

it wasn’t fair that you were scouted at a grocery store on where she buys her groceries it wasn’t fair that you don’t need to audition for some roles, while maddison has to do it. it wasn’t fair that you easily become a model and try out things easily, while she has to work hard for it.

for you, it was exactly how it was supposed to be.

you were genuinely convinced you were dying. the fever was a living thing, pulsing behind your eyes, and that medicine you took felt like it had the half-life of a fruit fly. your throat was raw, your head was spinning, and every step felt like you were walking on shifting sand.

your phone vibrated against your palm again.

starboy 💫: you're still not here. i can feel you getting worse from across the city. starboy 💫: get a doctor, y/n. this is stupid. you: i'm pulling up now. meeting a friend. i'm skipping the after-party. just need to finish this.

starboy 💫: a friend? which friend? if it's that guy antonio, tell him to back off. i saw the messages from last month, remember? i'm not forgetting that. you: stop being jealous i was working and focus on the show. you:i can see you on the feed, you're looking at your phone instead of the runway.

jaafar was pacing behind the curtain, jaw locked tight enough to shatter teeth. he’d been ignoring maddie for hours, the notifications piling up like a digital death sentence until he finally snapped.

maddie: you’re not answering me? seriously? i see the tweets! maddie: who are you with? is she there? maddie: i know you’re ignoring me, jaafar.

jaafar: i’m working. get off my back. jaafar: i work with her, remember that

maddie: don't 'get off my back' me. i'm your fiancée. the least you could do is pretend to care about this relationship. jaafar: i care about doing my job right now. talk later.

he was genuinely spiraling, torn between the suffocating weight of maddie’s psycho-fiancee energy and the gnawing fear that you were going to collapse. just as he went to send another warning to your inbox, jordan walked over and casually remarked that he looked way too tense for just a fashion show. jaafar didn't even look up from his screen, biting out that he should go tell that to you since you were currently running the entire place while fighting a massive fever, before bluntly telling jordan to just mind his own business and do his job.

he was so damn grateful for the life you’d curated for him. the navy pinstripes, the way the cut of the blazer sat against his chest, the entire look—it was all your touch.

he felt like a new man, a king, and he knew exactly who to credit. but he was distracted. he kept checking his phone instead of the runway monitors, his thumb hovering over your chat.

then, you finally stepped out.

you were ghostly pale, eyes glassed over, moving with a slowness that felt like you were fighting gravity.

the crowd erupted, but you barely registered the noise through the thrumming in your ears.

you offered a small, practiced wave, just trying to keep your balance.

you caught jaafar’s gaze from across the room.

he wasn't looking at the crowd, wasn't looking at the cameras—he was just watching you, his expression etched with that terrifying, possessive concern that made your stomach flip.

you rolled your eyes at him, trying to signal for him to get it together, but he didn't even blink.

you hated that stare. you hated that he saw exactly how much you were suffering. & most of all, you hated that he cared, because you knew that the moment he started caring like that, you were completely and utterly finished.

jaafar wasn't just falling for you anymore; he was plummeting. every time he looked your way, the world seemed to shift into slow motion, and he’d realized that no matter how much he tried to fight the gravity of it all, he was already head over heels.

he didn't care about the cameras or the crowd; he was stubborn, and he was determined to get to you.

he caught up to you and grabbed your arm, his touch uncharacteristically gentle but firm.

he could feel the fever radiating off your skin like a furnace. "don't bother meeting your friend," he muttered, his eyes dark with concern. "just come to the after-party with me. i’ll keep an eye on you all night."

you felt like you were swaying on your feet, your throat so tight it hurt to breathe. "i’m heading back to the hotel, jaafar. stop worrying."

your voice came out as a pathetic, jagged whisper. jaafar just raised a brow, completely unconvinced. "i really think you should go to the—"

"actually, i still have to do the after-party. stella will be there," you snapped, the irritation fueled by your own weakness. you had to create space, even if it killed you. "and once again, you’re not my boyfriend or my husband. stop this. drop the act."

the words felt like a physical blow. jaafar went rigid, his jaw working as he processed the cold reminder of the lines he wasn't supposed to cross. he felt a sharp pang of hurt, but it was quickly drowned out by a wave of protective, possessive need.

he hated that you were pushing him away, but he hated the idea of you suffering alone even more. he knew your pride was the only thing keeping you upright, and he knew exactly how much you were hiding behind that sharp tongue.

you saw the flicker of pain in his eyes and immediately felt the guilt wash over you. you didn't want to hurt him, but you were terrified of what would happen if you let your guard down. "i'm sorry," you whispered, your voice breaking. "i’m just… i'm really sick."

all his annoyance vanished the second he locked eyes with you.

he looked into your eyes. your big, blue, crystal-clear eyes that always seemed to hold a hint of stormy, ethereal depth and he couldn't stay angry.

he let out a soft, low chuckle, shaking his head. "you're impossible, you know that?"

he stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hum that resonated in your chest. "fine. want to head backstage for a bit? did you bring extra medicine?"

you nodded weakly, fumbling with your small bag and pulling out the blister pack. he saw the exhaustion etched into your face and finally let out a breath he’d been holding.

he reached out, his hand coming to rest on top of your head, patting it with a rough, lingering tenderness.

"good girl," he murmured, the possessiveness back in his tone, and for a second, the fever didn't seem quite so heavy.

it wasn't long before you were back in the hotel suite, the sanctuary of the room feeling like a different world compared to the chaos of the show. but the second the door clicked shut, your body decided it was done pretending. you were hit with a coughing fit so violent it sounded like you were hacking up a lung, your chest hitching with every sharp, rattling breath.

jaafar was pacing the length of the rug, his frustration finally boiling over. "i told you, we should’ve gone to a clinic, y/n. this isn't normal, you're literally falling apart."

you waved a hand, trying to cut him off, but the cough seized your throat again. when you finally managed to gasp for air, you reached for your bag, only to find it completely empty. your last dose of meds was gone.

you felt a sudden, dizzy spike of panic, but you forced a tired smile to hide it. "just focus on your work, starboy. really. i just need to crash for a few hours, i'll be fine."

you watched him for a second, seeing the way his jaw worked, the way his eyes tracked every movement you made with that intense, predatory concern.

you had a different idea, though. the fever was doing strange, intoxicating things to your inhibitions, and your usual walls were completely eroded.

"starboy, come here," you commanded, your voice raspy and low.

he didn't hesitate, crossing the room in two long strides until he was hovering over the bed. he looked at you really looked at you noting the flushed skin and the way your pupils were blown wide. "what do you need?"

a wicked, devious little laugh bubbled up in your throat, followed by another sharp cough. you didn't care about the illness anymore; you just wanted him to close the distance.

"i want you," you whispered, the request feeling more like a dare as you reached out to grab his collar. "please."

he froze, his hands hovering over your waist as he searched your face, clearly worried you were just out of your mind from the fever and the meds. "are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice thick with a mix of hesitation and rising heat. "you're burning up, y/n. i don't want to hurt you."

you didn't let him finish. you just nodded, your fingers digging into his blazer, pulling him down until there was no space left between you. you didn't need to speak again; you just pulled him down to beg properly, and he finally stopped fighting the inevitable.

you tugged him down by his collar like you were starving for him, lips crashing messy and desperate against his. the fever had you burning from the inside out, but it only made everything feel hotter, wetter, more urgent. “i want you,” you rasped, voice all scratchy and broken from coughing, but dripping with pure filth.

“fuck me, jaafar. i don’t care how sick i am. just ruin me.”

he groaned low in his throat, that sound vibrating through your chest as his hands finally gave up fighting and gripped your hips hard, fingers digging in like he owned every inch of you. “you’re out of your fucking mind, princess,” he muttered against your mouth, biting your bottom lip before soothing it with his tongue. “burning up and still begging for my cock like a needy little slut. fuck, i love you like this.”

he shoved your dress up around your waist in one rough motion, not even bothering to take it off completely.

the cool air hit your soaked panties and you shivered, but then his thick fingers were yanking them aside, sliding through your slick folds with zero patience. two fingers pushed inside you right away, stretching you open while his thumb rubbed rough circles on your clit. you cried out, back arching hard off the bed, the fever making every touch feel like electricity straight to your core.

“so fucking wet already,” he growled, pumping his fingers deeper, curling them just right to hit that spot that made your eyes roll back. “this pussy’s throbbing for me even while you’re sick. you really can’t get enough, huh?”

your head was spinning, half from the fever, half from how filthy he sounded. *god, he’s never this rough when he’s worried about me, but fuck… i need it tonight.* you grabbed his wrist, grinding down on his hand like you were losing control. “more,” you whimpered. “i need your cock, starboy. please—fill me up.”

jaafar pulled his fingers out with a wet sound that should’ve embarrassed you, but it only made you ache worse.

he stripped fast, shirt ripped open, trousers shoved down just enough to free his thick cock. it slapped heavy against your thigh, already leaking and rock-hard. he stroked himself once, eyes dark and locked on your flushed, glassy-eyed face.

“look at you,” he said, voice rough as gravel. “you're pale but dripping and desperate. my perfect little secret.” he hooked your legs over his arms, spreading you wide, and pushed in with one deep, brutal thrust. no slow easing tonight—you took every thick inch at once, the stretch burning so good you screamed his name.

“fuck—jaafar!” your walls clenched tight around him, the fever making you impossibly sensitive. he didn’t give you time to adjust, just started pounding into you hard and fast, hips snapping against yours with wet, filthy slaps that echoed through the suite.

the headboard banged against the wall in rhythm, but neither of you cared who might hear.

“that’s it, take it,” he grunted, leaning down to bite your neck, sucking a dark bruise right where everyone could see tomorrow. “this pussy is mine. mine to fuck even when you’re coughing your lungs out. you feel how deep i am? gonna fuck this fever right out of you, princess.”

every thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. you were a mess—sweat slicking your skin, tits bouncing with every rough snap of his hips, moans turning into broken whimpers every time he hit that perfect spot. the roughness mixed with the way he still looked at you like you were everything made your chest tighten.

you scratched down his back, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks. “harder,” you gasped between coughs. “fuck me like you mean it. like i’m the only one you want.”

jaafar snarled, shifting angles so he could drive even deeper, one hand wrapping around your throat just tight enough to make your head spin deliciously.

“you are the only one. maddie could never take me like this. never make me this fucking crazy.” his hips slammed forward relentlessly, balls slapping against your ass as he claimed you completely. “say it. tell me who this pussy belongs to while i’m deep.”

“yours,” you choked out, voice wrecked. “all yours, jaafar—fuck, i’m gonna—”

your orgasm hit you like a freight train, pussy gushing around his cock as you shook and clenched, vision whiting out from the intensity. the fever made it last longer, wave after wave crashing through your overheated body until you were sobbing his name.

he fucked you through it, rough and greedy, chasing his own release. “good girl, fuck—squeezing me so tight. gonna fill you up, princess. gonna pump you so full you’ll feel me for days.”

with a deep, guttural moan he buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of cum flooding your pussy, so much it leaked out around his cock as he kept grinding through the aftershocks. he collapsed on top of you, still buried deep, breathing heavy against your neck.

for a minute the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the occasional cough you couldn’t hold back. jaafar kissed your temple, your flushed cheeks, the corner of your mouth—soft and tender now, the complete opposite of how he’d just railed you.

“you’re insane, you know that?” he whispered, voice hoarse but full of that worshipful warmth.

“dragging me into bed when you can barely stand. but fuck, i can’t say no to you. never could.” he stayed inside you, slowly softening, like he didn’t want to break the connection yet. one big hand stroked your hair while the other rubbed gentle circles on your belly.

“rest now, baby. i’ve got you. i’ll deal with everything else. you’re mine to take care of… even when you’re being a naughty, fevered little brat.”

you smiled weakly, curling into his chest as the exhaustion finally pulled you under, his cum still leaking slowly between your thighs and his arms wrapped tight around you like he’d never let go.

for a long minute the only sounds were your ragged breaths and the occasional cough you couldn’t hold back. jaafar stayed inside you, softening slowly, like he couldn’t bear to pull out yet.

then he finally eased himself free with a low hiss, his cum dripping messily down your thighs. he kissed your forehead, your damp temples, the corners of your eyes, murmuring soft praises the whole time.

“stay right here, baby. don’t move,” he whispered, voice rough but so gentle it made your chest ache. he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, coming back with a warm, damp cloth and a glass of water.

he cleaned you up carefully, wiping away the sticky mess between your legs with slow, tender strokes, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as he went.

“there we go… look at you, all flushed and pretty even when you’re wrecked. my good girl.”

once you were clean he helped you out of the rest of your dress, sliding one of his oversized shirts over your head instead.

it smelled like him—warm, expensive cologne mixed with that masculine scent that always made you feel safe.

he pulled you into his arms, settling you against his chest so your head rested right over his heart. one big hand rubbed slow circles on your back while the other stroked through your hair, untangling it with patient fingers.

“drink this,” he said softly, holding the water to your lips and making sure you took small sips. when you started coughing again he held you through it, palm warm on your chest like he could ease the ache just by touching you.”you scared the shit out of me tonight, princess.”

you nuzzled closer, burying your face in his neck, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your cheek.

the fever still burned, but wrapped up in him like this his cum still faintly leaking out of you, his arms tight around your waist, his lips brushing your hair every few seconds it felt bearable. safe. wanted.

“i love you,” he murmured into the quiet, the words heavy and real in the dark suite. “not just when it’s easy. especially when it’s messy like this. you’re mine to fuck, mine to fight for, mine to take care of. get some rest now. i’ve got you… always.”

you let your eyes drift shut, the aftershocks of pleasure still humming through your body, his warmth chasing away the worst of the chills.

for the first time all night, the guilt and the sickness felt far away.

there was only jaafar—rough and filthy one minute, soft and worshipful the next—holding you like you were the only thing that mattered in his world.

you woke up to the muffled, frantic hum of stylists and makeup artists hovering around jaafar. the suite smelled like hairspray and expensive cologne. you pulled one of his oversized shirts over your head, shivering, and draped his blazer over your shoulders for warmth.

"jaafar," you croaked, your voice barely a ghost of a sound. you felt worse than yesterday, your body humming with a fever that wouldn't quit.

he turned immediately, his eyes darkening the moment he saw you. you reached your arms out, a silent plea, and he didn't hesitate—he scooped you up, tucking your head into the crook of his neck while a makeup artist continued to work on his face.

"can we just stay like this?" you mumbled, clinging to him.

he pressed a kiss to your hair, his voice low and soothing. "i wish we could, baby. i really do. i’ll tell stella to watch out for you, okay? i’ll be back before you know it."

hours later, the after-party was in full swing, but jaafar was barely present. he stood near the bar, nursing a sparkling water, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

"you're not exactly winning the party of the year award, are you?" stella joked, sidling up to him.

"she's sick, stella," jaafar said, not breaking his stare. "i can't focus on anything else."

"she's strong, jaafar," she replied gently, watching him. "go home to her if you need to."

his phone buzzed.

you: i miss you already. this fever is absolute hell. i hate being sick.

starboy 💫: i miss you too. i’m miserable here. just hold on, i’m coming home as soon as i can.

he excused himself, walking out to a quiet hallway to call you. the call connected, but the line was deathly silent. "baby? you there?" he asked, his heart hammering against his ribs. you answered, but your voice was terrifyingly weak, disjointed. "jaafar... i..." you trailed off. "baby, stay with me. i’m coming home right now, we’re going to the hospital the second i get back."

panic took over. he couldn't hear you anymore. convinced you’d passed out, he bolted back into the party, grabbing stella by the arm. "she's not responding, stella. i think she passed out. we have to go now."

he hotel suite was a blur of early morning chaos. staff were buzzing around to get jaafar ready, but you were barely conscious, shivering under one of his oversized shirts and draped in the blazer he’d worn the night before.

"jaafar," you rasped. your voice sounded like sandpaper. you felt worse than yesterday—dizzy, hot, and completely hollowed out.

he didn't even hesitate. he scooped you up into his arms, settling into the makeup chair with you curled against his chest. he let you bury your face in his neck while he sat still for the stylist.

"look at you," he whispered, stroking your hair, his voice thick with nerves. "i don't want to leave you like this. i'll make sure stella keeps her mouth shut, okay? just try to sleep."

"can we just... stay like this?" you mumbled, clinging to him. you felt so small, so sick, and so desperate for him to just stay. he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead, promising he’d be home the second the cameras stopped flashing.

he kept his word. he went to the after-party, but he didn't drink. he stayed professional, moving through the crowd with an air of distraction. he eventually found stella near the VIP section.

"she’s really that bad?" stella asked, eyeing his phone as he checked it for the tenth time.

"she can barely talk, stella. i shouldn't have left," jaafar muttered, his jaw tight.

meanwhile, you were back in the suite, checking your phone.

you: i miss you already. this fever is literally killing me, i hate being sick. starboy 💫: i hate it too. i’m almost done, just hang on for me.

you watched the battery icon flicker—5%—but you were too exhausted to move. you just let your hand drop, your eyes drifting shut.

at the party, jaafar’s stomach dropped when your next call went to voicemail. he excused himself, his face going pale. he didn't wait for a polite exit. he grabbed stella by the arm, dragging her toward the door. "she didn't pick up. she’s probably unconscious. we have to go."

"jaafar, slow down," stella urged, but he was already running for the car.

in the hotel, your phone finally died. you realized you were disconnected and, in a moment of sheer desperation, you grabbed your room key and stumbled out to find a charger. the walk to the store felt like a marathon.

"you're... you're her, right?" the guy at the counter asked when you finally reached the store. you looked a mess, pale and shaking. when you nodded, he looked sympathetic. "just take the charger. feel better."

you walked out and froze. the front of your hotel was crawling with paparazzi. an ambulance was sitting right there, lights flashing against the glass.

"what happened?" you asked a stranger in the crowd, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"some girl in the suites passed out," they said. "paramedics went up minutes ago."

your heart dropped into your stomach. your phone was dead. you sprinted—or tried to—into the lobby. jaafar was there, frantic, shouting at the staff, his face a mask of pure terror.

"jaafar!" you screamed, your voice cracking and your throat hurt too much.

he spun around, his eyes locking onto you. the relief that washed over his face was so intense it made you stumble. he crossed the room in two strides and crushed you into a hug, burying his face in your hair. "where were you? i thought you were gone!"

the paramedics moved in then, checking your pulse and looking at each other with concern. "this isn't just a flu," one of them said, looking at the unusual symptoms. "she needs to be at the hospital now."

"i'm going with her," jaafar insisted, grabbing the stretcher, but you shook your head weakly.

"no," you wheezed, grabbing his sleeve. "if you get seen in the back of an ambulance, the press will destroy you. let stella come."

"i don't care about the press!" he growled, but you were already being pushed toward the door. he watched, helpless, as the doors closed. "i'm following you. do not try to stop me."

while you were being rushed through the city, jaafar's family group chat was absolutely blowing up.

jermajesty: bro, what is going on? my phone is vibrating off the hook. randy: is y/n okay? the headlines are everywhere. genevieve: jaafar, pick up the phone! prince: just saw the photos. get to her, man. bigi: sending love. let us know.

jaafar didn't bother typing back. he just stared at the taillights of the ambulance, his knuckles white against the steering wheel, just it wasn’t that serious.

#icymi <3