hobiyaaaa

💝

[yeontannieeeeee]

Jaafar Jackson

Closed Door Interview

3 AM Reassurance

From Childhood Friends To Everything

Hidden hearts

Breaking Free & Finding Home

When The Weight Gets Too Heavy

What Was Always Meant To Be

Jaafar as michael jackson

Hearts in the Spotlight

Bet On Us (part 1)

Bet On Us (part 2 - finale)

[ohhowjooniewept]

masterlist

if you want to support me/my writing, here's my ko-fi <3

in my multiverse of fics, jungkook and y/n are the same people over and over and over - deeply infatuated, disgustingly so. it's not healthy, it's intimate and it's pure obsession.

you'll see my o/c, yejin, who will forever be y/n's best friend and the other tannies showing up here and there to complete the fics. i hope you love them as much as i do.

just a word of warning - my fics tend to sit darker. they're not full blown yandere, but they have themes of obsession and darker tones overall. if that doesn't make you comfortable, this blog isn't for you.

drabbles are shorter, jotted out stories with little to no plot

one shots are fics with little plot, more so a collection of scenes and scenarios

fics have an overarching plot, with different themes and a chronological series of events

drabbles

ex's to lovers

angst, fluff

streamers

fluff, fluff, fluff - tension!!!

brother's best friend

tension, tension, tension

thief

obsession at first sight

situationship (?)

they’re idiots. enjoy.

one shots

pirate x noblewoman

obsessive, darker themes, smutty

uncle jungkook x primary school teacher y/n

candid obsession, love at first sight, smutty

fics

neighbours

sick infatuation, lovesick, yearning

same friendship group

fluff, angst, smut (they're so in love it's sick)

ex childhood best friends

darker, longing, smut

ex's to lovers

angst, fluff, smut - jungkook's a yearner baby

roommates

fluff, angst, smut (jk being down bad, what's new)

obsessive older brother’s best friend

angst, smut, fluff, filthy fucking obsession

illegal street fighter

dark, smut, angst (this one is lowk yandere lol)

nerd x popular

fluff, SMUT!!, angst

ceo x employee

longer fic, fluff, smut

best friend x best friend

obsessive, dark, needy, smutty

prince x princess

lots world building, fluff, smut, angst!!!!!!!

best friend's older brother

obsession, yearning, smutty

frat jungkook x studious y/n

stalker jungkook meets bitchy y/n. ur so welcome

alpha x omega

soulmates, SMUTTY.

streamer jungkook x streamer y/n

confident, cocky jungkook who’s extremely down bad!!!!!!!!

mafia leader x mafia daughter

dirty, dark and smutty

handyman jungkook epilogue

damsel in distress, obsessive, darkkkkkkk, smut

[ohhowjooniewept]

stalker jungkook x stalker y/n

deep, dark, obsession - smut, fluff, minimal angst

<25k

—

being popular came easily to you.

it wasn’t hard when you had it all. you were the prettiest girl at your university by miles, paired with a good brain, a sweet personality and more importantly - you were genuinely nice to be around. every girl wanted to be you and every guy wanted you for himself, a combination that had you ranked queen bee on the social hierarchy, something you had never even tried to do.

it came naturally to you, and that was the part that had people who didn’t like you so envious. you didn’t try to be likeable, you simply were, making sure to befriend anyone and everyone despite their social status, or just going out of your way to be kind to people just because you could. the fact you were so beautiful only added a cherry on top. you were a full package.

even your circumstances had a way of working out. you came from a household where abuse was a norm, and so, you had left at the ripe age of 12, only to be taken in by your best friend, yejin, and her family who you now considered your own. you were treated as though you were blood, with lavish birthday parties, and a full ride to the university of your choice, which just so happened to be the same one your best friend attended - to which you both shared a lovely apartment on campus.

you were perfection defined to all, and yet, they failed to see your one fatal flaw.

obsession.

it was a disease, you knew this much, which is why you kept it under lock and key, a darkened secret only you knew about. it trickled into the darkest parts of your brain where it had begun to fester into tangent thoughts, things that coaxed your throat and soul into a never ending cycle of want and need.

no one understood, no one would, you knew that. how could you explain that you had never been able to look at someone normally without feeling the entirety of your life collapse before your very eyes?

you made it a a rule to never fall in love, not with anyone, not ever. a rule made to be broken it seems for only a few months into your university life, your eyes happened upon the one person that had brought every dark fantasy of your own to light.

jeon jungkook.

oh, that name. it unsettled you. it made you become a twisted little thing that wanted nothing more than to lock him away for your own selfish greed.

you felt pained at the prospect of him looking at another woman, even more pained when you realised he was the one person you couldn’t introduce yourself to - leaving you in a limbo where you couldn’t stomach him belonging to another, and doing exactly nothing about it. what was the point of popularity when it couldn’t even be used for your benefit, in your time of need?

being smart was one thing, jungkook was a genius. he was years ahead of anyone you’d ever met, with a brain so sharp it seemed to annoy him whenever he was sat in your shared physics classes. you sat four rows behind him, three seats to his left, giving you the prime spot to stare at him all lesson, doodling his name in your book whilst thinking of all the ways you wanted him.

it wasn’t sexual, not entirely - of course you often thought of him. you had been with other men on the mere basis that they shared a feature with him, whether it be his large eyes, his smile, his dimpled cheeks - one look and you were able to imagine it was him instead, though it never quite satisfied that deep itch inside of you. it was more than that, though. he represented something fucked up inside of you, something that had your hands shaking whenever you conjured it up in your mind.

he was home, and he didn’t even realise it.

he wasn’t particularly nice, with an ego too large to really make good friends. he had a few, all who were equally as smart, and they would sit at a table quiet, amongst themselves, where you would fight with every inch of your life to not look over despite feeling some of their eyes on you. you were pretty, popular and smart - every man’s dream, and yet it meant nothing if it wasn’t him.

you couldn’t even remember how this began, only that it had no end. he had no social media presence, went to his nerdy, stupid clubs, played his games with his friends and studied endlessly - you needed him like you needed air to breathe.

it was comical really.

hilarious, that you, despite your wit, were not able to see what was so clearly so familiar to you reciprocated.

how was it that jeon jungkook, object of your foul infatuation, had the same incessant need when it came to you?

it was sick, really, the way he felt about you. sweet little thing, shorter than him, smaller in every way, he knew that he could have cornered you months ago and you would have bat your big eyes up at him in that way you often did to others, rendering them weak, wrapping them around your pinky.

it wasn’t enough.

he wanted you in a way that wasn’t normal, it couldn’t be encouraged - he wanted you to belong to him, to own you, to have you so deeply intertwined into him that you wouldn’t know how to breathe without him. that’s how he felt about you, and he was sure you had never even noticed him.

every day, he’d wake, sitting in the same seat of his physics class where the reflection of his laptop monitor would show you sat a few rows behind him, to which he would spend the entirety of his time watching you. though he couldn’t see your face clearly, the muffled reflection of you was enough to have his heart beating out of his chest, as his hand would often crush whatever pen or pencil would have the misfortune of being in use that day.

the difference between you both was simple. jungkook had gotten here first.

he remembered the day his eyes had found you, simply studying in a cafe, his heart looping over and over and over and over. he had sat at the opposite end, watching you, for a straight hour before you had left, to which he needed another on his own simply to recoup.

he wanted to be good for you, throwing himself into his academics just so he could have something to show for. he was a genius, his brain working at a rate much faster than that of the average person, and it didn’t go unnoticed - his professors practically begged for his opinion, job offers going crazy at the prospect of managing to bag such an ideal student after graduation.

he kept them all in limbo, no matter the insane salaries. it would all depend on you; his sweet, angel girl. where would you want to settle? far away, near the coast, where sun and ocean were to be siblings? or would you prefer to stay in the city, where familiarity brought you comfort?

even the thought of you got him hard, his hand constantly having to adjust himself whenever he was even near you.

that’s when the stalking properly began.

first step in making his life easier were the cameras. he installed them mainly in your room, managing to put a few at different angles when you and your roommate were away on a holiday. he remembered that day fondly, having stolen multiple articles of clothing for himself, even going so far as to edge himself in the comfort of your own bed, breathing in the soft scent of your shampoo from your pillow.

second, the tracker on your car. what kind of guy would he be if he let his girl go anywhere, and everywhere without notice? he liked to make sure you were safe, after all, and how else was he supposed to enjoy his weekends if he didn’t know where you were? wherever you would go, he would come too, adorned in a hat and a mask, sat at a distance, but close enough to admire your sweet face.

thirdly? interference.

watching had become tedious, especially when the payout was beginning to become the same. he longed for more, craved to know you in a way that was completely out of bounds. he wanted something bigger, wanted to mould the situation further until it could unravel all on its own.

it started small. a window left unopened, despite you knowing with certainty that you had closed and locked it the night before. then, your lip gloss, a favourite where you carried everywhere diligently, suddenly disappearing. you weren’t forgetful, nor known to misplace things, so its sudden loss became confusing to you.

clothes weren’t being taken, but they were being moved. you liked your wardrobe coded, with summer and spring on one side, and your autumn and winter on the other - you knew once you started realising a few pieces had been messed around with, that someone was actively here. touching, misplacing.

you noticed - how could you not? you were observant, far too in tune with your things to not notice such small details that felt jarringly big to you.

he watched it all with bated breath, and his fist around his cock.

the way your features would pull in confusion, head tilting and pout ready, unaware you were on camera and being live streamed to him and him alone. god. he wished you could see what you did to him, how you had him breathing heavy at the mere sight of you - he yearned to know if it would scare you away.

the thing that began to dawn on him, however, was the realisation that it didn’t add up.

your lack of action, or perhaps your lack of reaction, was the first stickler. your acceptance, however, was a confirmation of something he had only ever dreamt of in his wildest, most fucked up dreams.

you understood.

you weren’t scared, or confused, or terrified at the prospect of someone breaking in. no, you were at ease, as though what you knew of yourself could no longer scare you, even if it stemmed from someone entirely different and this..oh, this. that was what he craved.

he couldn’t stop now that he was aware, and lord knew that his plan was beginning. no longer would he sit in the shadows, watching and bidding his time.

you were his, whether you liked it or not.

the first time he stayed, he didn’t touch anything, a clear difference to all the other times he had become comfortable.

your apartment was quiet, the soft hum of the fridge bleeding into the silence, yejin snoring somewhere on the opposite side of your shared place, all whilst jeon jungkook stood in your bedroom, watching you sleep.

you were so sweet to watch, all curled into the covers, cheek smushed against the pillow whilst you held something tightly to your chest. a little teddy he had left on your bed for you, a sign of his courtship that he could see for his own two eyes you had accepted readily. the sight had him smiling.

his tongue pressed into his cheek as he stepped closer. the sight of your panties, forgotten on the side, had him grunting lightly, his hands reaching out for them almost immediately before pulling them up to his nose, and breathing them in hungrily. his favourite scent.

he had seen you through screens regularly, stolen so many pairs of your underwear just to smell them - this all felt like routine.

you, however, asleep. no, this was out of the norm.

he had never seen you so adorable, so sweet. his girl, he whispered under his breath before backing away quietly.

it wasn’t time. you couldn’t see him just yet, not until you were ready, because he knew once he started, he couldn’t stop.

and so, he gently placed your panties into his pocket, cock hard, shoulders rolling before slowly departing, his heart thumping out of his chest.

he wasn’t ready for you to see him. not like this.

not until you understood.

—

the party was loud. excruciating for some, but the alcohol in your system left a dull hum in your ears as you sipped from the red solo cup, your hair pulled up into a sweet ponytail. bodies were packed so closely, with laughter echoing against each wall, a bright and illuminated swimming pool at the heart of the party where everyone stood in either bikinis or shorts.

this was the kind of place that chewed people up and spat them out whole - a place where you dominated. you fit right in, perched against a corner of the pool with your feet in the water, too small bikini barely covering your tits whilst a scrappy pair of shorts sat on your body. the essence of a university pool party was to be as promiscuous as possible for the night, whilst completely disregarding any man that approached you.

you only had eyes for one anyway.

you were used to the eyes, the attention, the way heads turned when you and yejin walked into a place, but even this felt a little too much. frat parties weren’t to your taste personally, but they were where the vibes were - everyone knew if you wanted to party, you had to attend a kappa pi event, no matter how annoying the guys were. it was simply an opportunity to see and be seen, to get a buzz in your system, let loose and what not.

secretly, you had tried your hardest not to come, but yejin wasn’t having any of your excuses. you had done something, something that felt so inherently fucked up, and yet your stomach was buzzing in a sort of excitement that you knew if anyone ever found out, you’d be demonised for life.

you had hacked into jungkook’s phone.

fuck. it felt thrilling to even think about how you had done it, and a small sense of pride filtered through you veins at the recognition you had done it all by yourself.

many often dismissed you as a pretty girl, but you were incredibly smart. it didn’t take long to figure out the coding needed to hack into his phone, especially when you had been eyeing it for so long - you had spent your last physics class doing exactly that, managing to infiltrate it directly, and now being able to access it in real time on your own.

you could see what he was doing, what sites he’d access, what he’d watch, what he’d do, who he’d text. your body shook in excitement at the thought, brain completely somewhere else as yejin giggled at something a guy whispered into her ear, sipping quietly.

she had begged you to come, unaware of the fight inside your chest, and considering the way you were gripping your phone, she figured you had met a new guy. she was never one to push you, knowing you were oddly private about these things, always respectful of your boundaries - but she couldn’t come to a party like this alone. she won in the end, knowing you couldn’t say no to her.

“we’re gonna get some more drinks. want anything?” she asked you sweetly, to which you shook your head with a small smile, wiggling your eyebrows about the man who had turned his back momentarily.

she let out a small giggle and nod, before standing up, walking away and into the house, leaving you to soak in the water and party for yourself.

water splashed from different sides of the pool as condensation clung to your bare stomach and legs, the slight chill in the air pebbling your nipples, all whilst you tipped your head back in soft thought.

it was exhausting the way you couldn’t think, or exist without him tumbling into your thoughts, demanding your attention, grabbing it without permission. you could feel a constant ache in your stomach at his absence, wanting nothing more than to simply fixate on him from afar. you couldn’t even imagine what he’d be like up close.

you were too caught up in your own delusions to realise the very object of your affections stood only a few metres away from you, chest heaving.

you see, jungkook knew.

he had known before stepping foot into the frat house, phone heated in his palm as his fingers practically crushed it, screen glowing with something that shouldn’t have made sense. it couldn’t be.

he noticed the abnormality almost immediately.

a delay, at first, hardly noticeable to a large majority of people and yet he was different in every way. a man like him, savvy in ways that were not deemed normal, determined something was wrong almost immediately - code didn’t falter unless someone had interfered.

unless something, someone, was inside.

it took him less than 10 minutes, fuelled by anger at first. who the fuck dared to hack him? what could they even want? money? extortion? did someone know about his psychotic obsession with you? his chest flipped at the thought of being found out before he could monopolise on it, before he could have ever even watched your reaction up close. it pained him.

and thus, queue ten minutes of silence in the car as jin, his friend, drove the 20 minute journey to the off campus party, all whilst he sat in the backseat, decoding, deciphering.

he traced lines, rerouted access, digging deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper until he finally got exactly what he wanted.

once he had found it, he dropped his phone into his lap with a silent, shaky exhale.

you.

it took him another 40 seconds just to be able to pick his phone up without his hands betraying him weakly, his eyes widened, lip caught between his teeth.

he couldn’t stop staring - far longer than what was necessary, or logical. it was as though neither his eyes or brain could comprehend what was in front of him.

your name. you. your access. you. your fingers swiping through apps and looking at things. you. he watched as you entered his photo album, lingering on gym photos, and random pictures he would take of things he needed to remember. you.

he broke the silence in backseat, his friends paying no mind as they chatted amongst themselves, only for him to laugh quietly under his breath in disbelief.

you.

you?

his sweet, angelic girl. you? with your big eyes and pouted lips, so precious it made his heart ache with a need to ruin you. dressed in your baby pink’s and blues, constantly attaching cute little keychains to your bag, an aura emitting from you that he long wanted to get his hands on.

oh, he had misplaced you entirely.

to do something so wrong, perverse..so filthy. hacking into his phone? for what?

his brain had rewired in the span of the remaining ten minutes of the journey to the party, a soft understanding filtering through his body.

he didn’t know you well at all. in fact, he was appalled. here he was, a man priming himself to be your future, and yet he barely knew you it seemed. he had fallen right into your trap of innocence, as though you were free from any of the filth that plagued his mind - only to find out you too were a victim of it.

he could have shut you out. your work was sloppy, too out in the open, it had taken him mere minutes to discover you, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to ever do such a thing.

oh, sweet, sweet y/n. his heart bloomed at the thought of you, a small, genuine smile on his face as he watched you rummage through his phone, even going so far as to sneak through his notes app. his cock pulsed painfully whenever he’d see you linger on one of his photos, a confirmation that you too were so sick in the head.

once the car stopped, he knew the game had finally begun.

jungkook didn’t belong here. it was obvious to anyone that knew him, and to himself - this wasn’t his usual scene, despising loud gatherings as though they were an insult to him personally. his closest friends, all who were as nerdy as him, stared wide eyed as they took in their surroundings, trying to place themselves somewhere that typically excluded them.

he wouldn’t have come, not usually, but he had a very clear objective.

you.

he salivated at the prospect of having you out in the open like this, tits practically on show, tiny bikini whilst you sat so sweetly as you always did, completely oblivious to the way every man had their eyes on you. he was jealous by nature, possessive to a fault - what kind of guy would he be had he not come?

he was in a pair of shorts, forgoing his t-shirt somewhere at the entrance, and he knew he had caught the attention of a few girls himself. he was bigger than most of the guys here, with muscles rippling every crevice, a chest so broad and shoulders so wide they had you closing your eyes tight in thought most days.

one look at you, and his very soul fell aflame.

his jaw tightened, hand crushing his phone slightly as his chest flexed. not through a screen, not through hidden glamours under a cap and mask, no. he was out in the open, watching, staring, salivating.

you were on your phone now, a hidden little smile forming on your lips, almost giggling. one look at his phone and he could see you were still looking through as though it was the most interesting thing on earth, despite being sat alone with multiple people yearning for your company. he was of course one of them.

he couldn’t stand this feeling in his stomach any longer, the excitement, the thrill. the game had shifted entirely now he knew you were a willing participant. you were one and the same, equally as fucked, equally as messed up. he couldn’t think of anything more romantic even if he tried.

his tongue pressed against his cheek just as a girl walked past him, fingers trailing over his chiseled abs in a way to get his attention. he looked down at her, almost feeling an excruciating sense of disgust at the sight of her - another girl touching him, someone that wasn’t you?

his face remained stoic, mean even, despite the sultry smile on her lips as she passed him, no doubt figuring it would be easy to bed the nerd, something that nearly had him scoffing under his breath. once she had properly walked away, his eyebrows furrowed, frowning slightly, before returning his attention back to you.

his sweet girl.

only, this time, you were staring back at him, eyes wide, lip jutted out in a pout, a look of clear upset painted on your features. you weren’t even trying to hide it, your emotions stronger than anything you could conjure up.

he was yours. all fucking yours, and here he was, chiseled and hardened in a way you had never seen in real life, tattoos cherishing much of his milky skin, your chest almost heaving at the sight.

that green, ugly emotion in your chest was fluttering all over you at the sight of him being touched by someone else, so much so that you broke eye contact with him after a few moments, your brain not comprehending the way he too was staring at you, so much deeper than simply looking. you looked to your left, hands turning your phone off as you tried to regulate your breathing.

you felt like you had been punched in the stomach.

you couldn’t even fester on your feelings, as yejin tumbled over to you, grin wide, drinks in hand, her new boy toy following like a lost little puppy, though she paid him no mind, no longer interested.

“got you a drink anyway.” she hummed, sitting beside you on the edge, putting her feet into the pool.

she peered up, noticing your far away expression, the way you were nibbling on your bottom lip, hands slightly shaking.

“you okay?” she asked, voice immediate, eyes furrowed as she examined you.

“yeah.. sorry. just got a bit of a headache, the musics too loud.” you lied smoothly, praying she would believe you.

to further convince her, you took the drink she handed you, wincing only lightly as you drank it all in one go, completely ignoring the burning stare from just behind her.

you couldn’t think. it wasn’t like your brain worked like the average girl’s anyway, you were clouded with this parasitic obsession that clouded every normal thought - how could he? how dare he? were you not pretty enough? smart enough? did you not warrant enough to capture his attention entirely?

your chest only pained further, as yejin began conversing with you, and you kept up, of course, to appease appearances. the thud in your throat was heavy in itself, chaining you to where you were sat, your shoulders hunching up with every wave of deep jealousy.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you murmured to her. “okay, want me to come with?” she asked, eyebrows furrowed in slight worry, knowing you were being a little different.

“don’t worry, i’ll be down soon.” you shook her head, giving her a small sort of smile, before getting up.

the hallways of the house felt much narrower when you were walking through absentmindedly, thoughts completely adrift, stomach aching in horrible self doubt. too long, too packed, bodies brushing past you as you made your way to the bathroom with the sole intention of locking yourself inside and simply overthinking.

your fingernails dug into the palms of your hands, leaving bloodied crescents as your breath continued to get more and more uneven the more you thought.

how could he?

over, and over, and over, and over.

it didn’t make sense, it shouldn’t have mattered, not to this extent, even you recognised how abnormal this was, but he was yours. jungkook was all fucking yours - you had done the work. you were the one hacking into his phone, invading his privacy and his right to anonymity. it was you, all you, and to have someone else see him when he belonged to you was fucking enraging.

you felt humiliated when you took into account he didn’t even know you.

you barely recognised the heavy footsteps behind you. not until a harsh hand grabbed at your wrist, all but forcing you against the cold wall. a sharp gasp tore from your throat as your body made contact, your shoulders hunching upwards immediately at the hiss of coldness against your skin, a wild difference to the bubbling heat simmering inside of you.

him.

your eyes widened for a fraction.

jungkook didn’t give you time to hesitate, no time to run or turn, your hands being grabbed and forcibly pushed above your head, pinned against the wall. your eyes were large, lips parted with small puffs, whilst he stared at you openly.

you had never been this close to him.

to look at his features directly, with every opportunity to trace the slope of his nose, the soft skin of his lips, the furrow of his brows and the harshness lined in his eyes. he was everywhere all at once, his bare chest emitting a sort of heat that had you almost curling towards him, your own chest lost of any air and comfort.

you couldn’t think, your shaky breath stopping for a moment only to release a quiet whimper that seemed to hit him directly as he too let out a shaky breath.

“where are you going?”

his voice. oh, his voice. so quiet, meant only for you, and yet firm.

like he already knew the answer, only asking to hear his own suspicions confirmed.

your lips parted, your chest still heaving as you tried to pull yourself together. you couldn’t show him how undone you were by his presence, never mind his burning touch - something you know you’d replay over and over until your mind split in half.

“bathroom..” you managed, barely above a whisper.

the weakness in your tone compared to the firmness of his own was visibly jarring, enough to have his eyes trace each and every one of your features. your nose, to your lips, cheeks to your eyes, all down the panels of your neck.

he acted as though he had all the time in the world, as if this wasn’t highly inappropriate given you were both technically strangers. oh, how ignorant you were to your own surroundings.

“you look upset.” he murmured, tone void of any concern. instead, laced with recognition - as though he knew to read you better than he could himself.

you swallowed harshly, jungkook watching your throat with his own bated breath.

“i’m not,” you said quickly. too quickly. “it’s just loud, i..it’s just..”

his thumb pressed into your pulse, feeling it jump.

lie.

“you’re a bad liar.” it felt like a warning.

a beat.

you exhaled through your nose as he eased the pressure on your wrist, gently rubbing his thumb as a means to ground you once more. you wanted to relax, wanted nothing more than to ease in his touch but all you could think about was how close he stood to you, his cologne, both of you scantily dressed, your bikini top doing nothing to cover you modestly.

“look at me.” he whispered, your eyes having fallen to his bare chest as you began to space out into your own thoughts.

you peered up through your weighted lashes, breath still uncontrollable. the intensity, it had your stomach jumping painfully, the eye contact both too much to handle and yet you never wanted him to look away, feeling scared it would be ripped from you before you could think.

“what’s wrong?” he asked again, softer, body inching closer, thumb pressing into your pulse once more.

you simply shook your head in response. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. how could you? he let her fucking touch him. her hands, rubbing over the same skin that was now beginning to press intimately against you, as though he wanted it branded in his bloodstream.

the silence between you stretched, as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed. your chests were openly touching, his head dipped low to capture your eyes properly, legs intertwined now. had anyone walked past you both, they would have naturally assumed you were making out given the intimacy of the stances, the sheer nature of the way you were pressured into the wall.

you were suffocating from it. you couldn’t think. you couldn’t comprehend. not when the only thing you were seeing were her hands, a flicker of genuine anger and a roar of jealousy holding you hostage.

the words slipped out before you could really do anything about them.

“you let her touch you.” you whispered, voice fragile.

the three seconds of silence between you felt like a lifetime multiplied. your eyes widened as you comprehended what had just left your lips, a streak of fear gripping your heart. you watched his eyebrows furrow, head tilting just slightly as he absorbed your words.

the quiet dropped like a weight, as you watched in real time his features completely transform from that of someone intense to a man who felt too dangerous to be good. he darkened, eyes growing lidded, lips growing slack.

“what?” he calmly asked, as though your response held more power than anything else physically possible.

too calm. far too steady.

you shook your head immediately as it dawned on you what had truly left your lips. you had let out your deepest, darkest self in front of him simply because you were overwhelmed by his presence. stood, forced to the wall, body against body, breath mingling with breath.

“i..didn’t..no..”

“no.”

his hands left your wrists, slowly easing them down whilst maintaining eye contact. once your hands were down, immediately, his own brushed up to your face, both palms cupping your jaw possessively, pulling your chin upwards.

“say it again.” his voice was breathless.

his grip was neither gentle nor cruel, but you could feel it in every facet of your stomach. you couldn’t move, made to feel every inch of his darkened stare, whilst your own fingers gently gripped his wrists, shaking.

he knew exactly how much pressure to use against you. knew exactly what had you spiralling, and what grounded you, opting for a gentle mix of both.

you couldn’t help your emotions, feeling your bottom lip begin to tremble, eyes growing glassier by the second.

“you let her touch you..” your chest rose sharply, voice breaking at the end of your sentence. “she was..and you just..she was all over you.”

your lips pressed against one another harshly as a means to silence yourself, heart spiralling whilst your brain begged you to see reason, to quieten in front of him in fears of such harsh rejection.

you tried. you truly did. you didn’t want him to know, didn’t want him to see.

but you were already gone. your voice had cracked, your eyes were already glassy, lip already trembling. it was as though he had cheated, indulging in another woman with his heart and soul when it had been nothing more than a fleeting touch, a norm for a place like this. you couldn’t rationalise that though, not when you were so deeply obsessive, so intensely fucked up in every way.

jungkook let out a loud, shaking breath.

you were heartbroken. over him?

he couldn’t believe it. he couldn’t fucking believe what he was hearing, what his eyes were seeing, what his heart was bouncing to. you? his sweet, gorgeous girl, so hurt because of a fleeting touch from a woman who he hadn’t even spared a proper glance at? he hadn’t reacted to her touch because he had barely computed it, as she meant nothing. was nothing.

to know a 3 second interaction had you about to cry, so bothered you had to physically remove yourself from the environment, shaking with each passing step. fuck, fuck fuck.

oh, you were the world and more. look at you, he thought, his head coming down to press against yours so gently, such a juxtaposition to the way he was holding you so firmly, so harshly as though you were ready to run away. a part of you was prepared.

his thumb pressed against your shaking bottom lip, as you tried so hard to hold your tears back, looking like a pathetic little baby. his baby.

“you didn’t like that.” he confirmed. not a question, but a clear cut statement, whispering it down at you to show you he understood.

you simply nodded, letting out a shaking breath, sniffling lightly. you felt fucking humiliated, your mental illness out for him to see in the ugliest of ways, all the whilst he cradled you like this wasn’t absolutely absurd - no one normal would have reacted the way he was reacting.

fingers began spreading over you, one hand leaving your jaw and travelling down to your neck, lightly wrapping. not squeezing, but merely holding.

you felt anchored.

“hey,” he nudged his nose against yours, breaths beginning to mingle from how close your faces were. “look at me.”

you listened, watery eyes meeting his.

the way he was looking at you confused you entirely. you were used to men looking at you because they wanted you, or because they wanted something from you - this was completely different. jungkook looked down at you as though you represented something deep inside of him, a look that you knew you held for him and him alone.

a look of full, unadulterated obsession.

“i didn’t touch her.” he promised, lips grazing your skin. “she touched you..” you corrected shakily, eyes begging to close at the feel of his touch.

“and i let it pass.” he promised, shaking his head lightly at you. “didn’t let it go on, didn’t give her nothing.”

your lips parted but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything. he watched you think, watched it click in your brain, as though you were stranded in the desert, thirsty, whilst he brought you a pitcher of water.

“you think i’d let someone think they could have me?” he almost spat, as though the words were offensive. “when you’re there? sat there?”

your breath caught so sharply it hurt.

“what?” you whispered.

his gaze didn’t waver. “you heard me.”

he leaned in closer, his nose brushing openly against yours, nuzzling as the corner of his lips began to graze your own, your eyes falling shut immediately.

“i saw you. smiling at your phone.” he murmured, feeling your pulse quicken underneath his hand. “you think i wouldn’t notice? all my pictures, my notes, my text messages, my fucking call logs.”

your eyes shot open in shock. your lip began fully trembling now, a hardened noise leaving your chest as you held back a soft sob, scared at having been discovered. you knew this would ruin you, make sure you’d never even be able to have a friend again, never mind exist.

more importantly, you would lose him, jungkook, the object of your infatuations.

“hey. c’mon baby. it’s just me.” he shook his head at you, cooing. “it’s okay.”

a heavy tear escaped, dribbling down your face pathetically. “i-i..”

your body was shaking.

“it’s okay.” he reiterated, eyes deceptively kind, warmth plastered over you as he kissed over where your tear trailed. “i liked it.”

you let out a noise of confusion, a whimper paired with a shake of your hands.

“i like knowing you’re in there, looking at my stuff. i like it so fucking much.” he breathed, his own eyes closing momentarily. “just how i like knowing where you are.”

a sudden stillness enveloped you.

no longer were your limbs rattling, or your eyes widening - the tears remained, fresh and hot as your orbs began to overflow as though the words leaving his lips could have only been conjured in the faintest of dreams. jungkook was speaking, and yet your brain was barely comprehending, not quite understanding. he liked knowing where you were.

he liked knowing where you were.

he liked it.

the knowing.. what did that mean? what did that represent? what was he referencing, symbolising, alluding? your brain was failing you, and as bright as you were, you felt smaller than you had ever in the entirety of your life simply trying to keep up.

tears were streaming easily now, and he couldn’t help the soft coo he released, soothing you with gentle eyes as though what he was saying was normal, casual even. none of this was healthy, not from your side, especially not his and yet you felt your crumpled hands faintly touch upon his chest.

you couldn’t help the bloom of romance in your stomach.

how sweet, how romantic.

“what does that mean?” you asked him through your tears, fingers digging into his chest as a means to feel closer to him, almost shamelessly.

your question didn’t land lightly with him.

it didn’t drift between you, didn’t penetrate the clawing tension between you by softening the air or easing the lump in your throat. no, instead, it sank. heavy, thick, debilitating, you could almost feel your legs ready to give out despite the fact you were bordering on sobs, the fear of being found out slowly being replaced by something so much bigger, so much more compelling.

he didn’t answer you immediately.

instead, his hand on your throat tightened. slowly, not enough to cause you any semblance of pain, but enough to show you he was there, to remind you, to rid your brain of any thought that was now clouding your judgement. this was real. he wasn’t a figment of your sick fucking imagination, something to soothe the illness deep inside of you, the parasite that claimed you head from toe. he was real. this was real. you were real.

his thumb pressed into your jaw, harsher now, tilting your head up just a fraction, causing you to look into his gaze. his heart gave him away, however, as you felt it thud meanly against his soft skin. you felt so exposed, so on show, seen in a way where you could feel him inside of you.

his eyes dragged all over, committing each inch to painstakingly detailed memory, as though you were a prized jewel and he a mere sailor.

“you don’t know?” he murmured, voice low, laced with a somewhat sense of amusement - not mocking, but in a way that was clear he found you endearing. as though your tears and confusion were the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

your brows pulled together as a hiccup left you, tears still streaming with no intention to stop. you shook your head then, small, uncertain, and it finally had something inside him snapping.

“fuck.” he exhaled harshly, more to himself than you, his forehead dipping to gently brush against yours once more lingering as though it was hardly enough. like he needed to ground himself before the cracks in his very soul were laid to bare in front of you.

“it means,” he started slowly, “that i’ve been watching you a lot longer than you’ve ever even looked at me.”

your breath hitched.

a sharp involuntary noise, something you couldn’t control no matter how hard you tried, your fingers now digging into his chest as a means to regain some sense of control.

he noticed. of course he noticed. his lips twitched just fucking looking at you.

“don’t do that.” he whispered with an almost accusatory tone, head shaking. “don’t act surprised now.”

you shook your head, so much faster this time, as though you were fighting to prove your innocence despite it being the furthest thing from the truth. the shame inside you hurt, but he was here too soothe it.

“i don’t..i don’t understand..”

“you do.” he cut in firmly. he leaned in close to you, your breaths mingling as your lips sat mere centimetres away from one another. “you’re too smart not to.”

your lips trembled. he was right.

you did understand - perhaps not entirely, not in a way that had you deciphering his words, but the strain in his voice. the harshness that came with it. he was telling you something your brain often echoed over and over to you. he was showing you the same disease up close, and your mind recognised it, saw it for what it was, what it could be.

home.

you were a cocktail mix of thrill and fear, your fingernails digging so harshly into his skin that he was sure you’d break it, with small tiny cuts beginning to form, not that he minded. he felt branded by you, a fucking dream come true.

“the windows,” he continued quietly. “things that went missing, your clothes..fuck, your panties are my favourite. you started leaving them in places i’d find. started making it so much easier for me.”

you breathed harshly.

“you noticed all of it. i know you did, because i watched you, studied you. yet you haven’t said a word to anyone.” his words were a jumbled mess, as though he was making sense of it in front of you. “why?” he asked, so softly, so gently.

it was a question with only one answer - you were smart enough to know that. it seemed that he already knew, and yet, with the way he was holding you, the way you clung to him, he yearned to hear it from you. not for it to be coaxed, but for you to sincerely say it.

your chest rose and fell once more, eyes leaking beyond control as a horrible sob left your lips, finally broken, entirely ashamed. the words slipped out before you could stop them, before you could ever dampen them down from a mixture of embarrassment and pure humiliation at being caught, alongside a dangerous streak of want that truly couldn’t have lessened even if you tried.

“i..” your voice barely audible. “i didn’t want it to stop.”

you closed your eyes as your hands finally let him go, cuts in the shape of crescent moons tight into his chest as your hands flung to your face, cradling your features away from him through quiet cries.

you prepared for him to push you away, to sneer at you in disgust, into disappointment, into anything that resembled any form of sanity that any other person would have gladly shown you. the thought of losing something you had never truly even gotten to have despite needing it more than anything was enough to have your knees buckling, your body shaking.

what you didn’t expect, however, were the large hands on your body to cradle you so sweetly, pulling you into an even larger chest, so that your face was engulfed entirely by jungkook. both arms held you delicately, causing your brain to malfunction as your now reddened orbs looked up only to meet his, your breath stolen by the look of pure yearning.

oh, sweet y/n, he thought to himself.

it was as if you had written him a sonnet.

a soft smile was directed down at you as his beefy biceps caged you into his body, even softer kisses placed against your forehead. your hands were still hiding your face slightly, and though you couldn’t stop your crying, the look of confusion that he was met with was so endearing, he couldn’t help but let out a shaky sigh.

“there she is..” he whispered down at you, eyes filled with an emotion you couldn’t place.

“hm?”

“i was wondering how long it would take until you finally showed yourself to me.”

“what?” you hiccuped.

your fingers slacked around your face as your body racked with a mixture of both half sobs, and harsh hiccups, your chest fighting for breath, all whilst your brain struggled to keep up, his touch intoxicating, burning into your skin. it was hard to comprehend this was even happening.

“you liked it.” he repeated, smile so earnest you would have thought you’d given him the greatest gift on earth.

his arms loosened around you, though his touch only got more and more daring. one hand slid up to your cheek, pulling you closer to him whilst the other took a hold of the back of your legs, sweeping you up in a notion that was far too easy, as though you weighed nothing.

the shock of suddenly being suspended into the air had you leaning into him immediately, arms flying around his neck as he simply led you into the bathroom, closing the door with his foot. instead of putting you down, you watched as he sat on the edge of the tub, sitting you down onto his lap, manoeuvring you like a doll without thoughts.

soon enough, your legs were on either side of him, your arms still wrapped around his neck, both of your barely clothed bodies pressed in a way that had you hiccuping again, a loss of air in your lungs now causing you to become light headed.

your chest was rising and falling, but he too matched you. it was like neither of you could believe this was real, that you were touching, existing, talking, holding one another like it hadn’t just been revealed you both liked to stalk each other.

the thump inbetween your legs got louder and louder until it was all you could feel, and from the way you were sat, you wanted more, wanted to sit a little forward until you were seated right against him, but the fear in your chest kept you rooted.

“don’t cry, baby.” he whispered, the quiet sound of music from downstairs echoing against the walls. “don’t be scared.”

you sniffled, eyes meeting his, fingers gently daring to brush against the back of his head where hair sat ready to be touched. his thumb pressed into your pulse on your wrist as his head pressed against yours, his body cradling yours as though you were the sweetest thing he had ever seen, his girl. his, sick, stalker girl.

“you just wanted to see me, right pretty girl?” he cooed down at you, causing you to nod through a hiccup. “nothing wrong with that. it’s just like i wanted to see you.”

your lips parted slowly, nodding, breathing still difficult. his words felt so comforting, the sickness inside your brain soothing now that it had been assured. you felt at home, so at peace.

your heart strummed harshly from the skin to skin contact as you peered at him almost nervously, your chest jolting from hiccups, your makeup utterly ruined. his words were also rattling in your brain, echoing from side to side as you tried to comprehend them, tried to understand them in a way that felt rational. instead, romance bloomed in your chest, the woman from earlier a distant memory as the same thing rolled in your mind over and over.

he just wanted to see you.

you.

all you.

for a moment, the world narrowed down to that simple truth.

you.

jungkook watched it in real time. your eyes began to droop, soften as you sniffled, lips still quivering with each passing moment. your hands on his neck lessened in grip, a sort of acceptance, a gentle comfort in the way you realised everything you had ever wanted was possibly here, right now.

this wasn’t fleeting, not like the attention you received daily from others. it stayed deep inside of you, wrapping around your ribs, curling around your heart until it suffocated you, precisely like what you had wanted.

“yeah,” he whispered, breathing in your scent, your perfume mixed with alcohol, eyes tracing your own. “that’s it, sweet girl.”

“i wanted it to be you.” you admitted in a small voice, no longer afraid, but still hesitant. “i knew things were being moved and taken in my room but..i didn’t want it to be anyone else.”

silence spanned between you, a moment of quiet in what had felt like an admission of the century.

your words hit him hard visibly, as he let out a shaking exhale, eyes shutting so tightly you could see the strain in his jaw. his hands shook as he held you, holding you much tighter suddenly - you couldn’t think outside of him. you watched him with bated breath, sniffling as your hands slipped from his neck, and instead slid down his chest.

“not anyone else.” he repeated finally, processing your words.

his own hands moved, no longer cradling you as they now moved to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair, neither gentle nor rough. possessive.

“say that again.”

you blinked up at him softly. “hm?”

“say it again.” his voice sounded heavier, harsher, as though finally, your admission had undone him entirely.

your lips trembled. “..i..didn’t want it to be anyone else but you..”

and in that moment, you had ruined jungkook completely.

a broken sound left his chest, a cross between a laugh and a shaking breath, his head dropping forward as his grip on you tightened so much harsher, pulling you flush against him. you were pulled forward, pressing both of you against one another in a way that you could feel him against the flimsy denim of your shorts, the two of you unable to look away.

“fuck..” he whispered again, but for the first time, he sounded wrecked. overwhelmed. his nose brushed against yours, frantic now, like he didn’t know where to put himself. “do you know what that does to me? what you’ve just said to me?”

you broke the eye contact, peering down at how you sat so directly against him, brain pulling you in a million directions as you both lightly grinded your cores against one another. the action felt so natural that neither of you were even doing it consciously, your bodies simply doing it for you. the pleasure was low, but you could feel it heavy in your stomach.

it grounded you.

“i’ve been in your apartment for fucking months.” he admitted, no shame now, no hesitation, just honesty. “been watching you. installed cameras in your room, got one in your shower..fuck. my girl, aren’t you? my sweet, sweet girl.” he rambled, breathing in your scent.

you heart bloomed so softly, your eyes watering once more.

“waiting for you to notice..wanted you to notice so badly, y/n. i needed you to know it was me. didn’t even think you knew i existed.”

your quivering lips parted to let out a noise of rejection, as though the notion was insanity in itself. you had noticed him immediately.

“i see you, see all of you, and i want it. i want all of you, i want that sick fucking part of your brain because mine is sicker.” he admitted, voice so much harsher than before. “you’re all i think about, all i can ever see, i wake up, study, and watch you. that’s it. i orbit you.”

his other hand gripped your hips, grinding you harshly against him as his actions began to become readied, assured. he was playing with you purposefully.

“i like following you too. i know your coffee orders, know what sizes you wear, know where you like to study.” he whispered this, as though it was a secret only for you to hear. “you’re branded on me. took your panties every chance i got because it’s the only thing that gets me off anymore. need to feel you, need to feel close to you.”

a strangled noise left your throat, as you clung to him tightly, your own hips moving in unison as you tried to hold back your tears. your heart was ready to explode out of your chest from a mixture of overwhelming joy. the man of your dreams was picking you, the real you, openly because he too was like you. sick in the head.

“i didn’t touch that girl.” he added suddenly, tone suddenly filled with venom, a tone you had yet to hear from him. he was offended beyond belief. “i’d never touch another woman other than you, y/n. not when you’re right here.”

his words finally broke you, as you once more, burst out into deep sobs.

you were being seen.

you were being chosen.

every negative emotion that chained you to gaping hole in your mind was brushed away, letting the darkness exist finally within its own right. others would have demanded it to close, to hide away, to make sure they never even caught a glimpse of it.

jungkook wanted to nurture it. he was picking you, choosing you, based on it, because of it.

“you hacked my phone because you went looking for me.” he whispered, his own eyes glistening lightly, cooing as he wiped your tears earnestly. “baby..i..i’ve been building my life for you.”

“really?” you desperately asked through your cries, body shaking in his arms.

he nodded, chest rising and falling at the sight of you, his sweet, gorgeous girl.

“you’re not too far gone.” he promised. “you’re just finally catching up with me.”

the movement between you began to slow as you began to hold one another, finally giving in to your desires, your cheek against his bare chest, openly breathing in his scent as you sobbed, and sobbed and sobbed.

minutes later, when you had finally managed to calm, and his chest sat glistening from your tears, he pressed a soft kiss to your head, causing you to look up through sniffles and hiccups.

“you’re tired.” his thumb brushed under your eye, catching the dampness that still remained as though it personally offended him.

you didn’t think to argue. he was right.

not physically, more so something deep inside you. you could feel the exhaustion in your bones, deep inside your stomach, through the ridges of your brain - you felt both alive and dead all at once.

you simply nodded at him, causing a soft grin to form on his face.

“i want you to go home.”

your brows pulled together faintly like you didn’t quite understand.

home?

his hand slid down to your thigh, squeezing once gently. “go home, get in bed, don’t wait up, okay? just go.”

you stare at him. it felt like an instruction, felt like care.

“but..what about you?” you asked, voice croaky from your earlier cries.

his lips twitched into something small, a sense of assurance lifting in his shoulders, relief clear on his face from the way you pulled at him.

“i’ll watch you.”

you knew those words should have felt wrong, and yet, they settled inside of you like a kiss to the soul. your breath managed to steady for the first time that night.

“okay.”

no hesitations. no questions. no thoughts. no concerns.

his eyes darkened at the thought of you so pliant for him, as though you wanted him to simply think on your behalf, a role he was more than happy to fulfil.

within the next ten minutes, jungkook cleaned your tearful face of any mascara streaks, you had spoken to yejin who jumped up to take you home immediately, as a good friend should, and you were already in your apartment.

it took another half an hour to properly prepare for bed, but once you were, dressed in nothing more than tiny little panties and a tank, you felt safer than you had ever in your life. wrapped in the plush of your covers, your cute teddy bear sat somewhere on the bed, your washed hair pulled out of your face - it was the assurance that jungkook could see you right now that ultimately led you asleep.

he too had managed to get home, preparing for a nightly visit to his laptop. he had gotten it out, positioning it on his lap as he watched you sleep like a baby, all curled up, so sweet, so darling.

his weepy girl. he had just begun in telling you his feelings, but now, he knew it was time to actually show you. the thought had his stomach bouncing in knots.

—

life after the confession remained oddly the same. you were sure that a big tsunami of change would come, a pit of anxiety in your stomach forming at the unknown, and yet everything felt eerily familiar. once you realised it was because he had been a constant in your life, whether you realised it or not, from day one, it all became clear. you woke up each morning, knowing he was watching you, showered knowing he was watching you, ate your breakfast, brushed your hair, got dressed - all of it. you did it with the knowledge that he was watching you.

you didn’t expect it to feel so safe, so comforting. a constant state of surveillance would have upset anyone else, but to you? each time you woke up, knowing he was there, it felt like a declaration of unadulterated love. your heart bloomed to know jungkook cared for you so much he couldn’t ease a waking moment without you, even using you in the background when you slept just so he too could relax.

anytime you would catch him in the hallways, neither of you pretended anymore. you simply looked, stared even, fingers grazing secretly as an act of acknowledgment. you wanted him, he wanted you more but alas, the game was not done.

oh, not at all - why would either of you stop when he had just began?

to have you so willing was merely a bonus on top of everything.

the quiet between you and jungkook grew with each passing day, but with it, an assured comfort - you wanted more, as did he, but taking the first step was difficult when all you had known was one another in a different state. to hide in the shadows felt safer.

the announcement came on a grey, dark thursday, with misted clouds collecting in the sky, condensation heavy against the windows of your university campus. it was the sort of afternoon that made winter feel heavier, quieter. slower. students were half sleeping, half listening, whilst the scratch of pens and and laptop keyboards echoed throughout the lecture hall.

your professor droned on and on as you continued to doodle, as you had been doing for the past hour. his monotone voice filled the space whilst you peered over the dark screen of your laptop, positioned in its usual way to glance at jungkook any chance you got. again, though you couldn’t see his face, it didn’t deter you.

you continued marking your notebook as you long abandoned your physics work, instead opting to draw little loops of jk, jungkook and tiny hearts you blacked out, with the intention of doing more and more. all this whilst pretending to make notes on quantum states, a content look on your face.

pathetic, you knew, but there was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to hide anymore. there was comfort in it, and that made you feel good enough to not care anymore if anyone watched what you were doing. the guys who sat beside you were curious enough, always trying to flirt, always trying to get your attention - one look at your battered notebook and they got the message loud and clear.

you were halfway through tracing his surname next to your own name for the twentieth time that session when professor choi cleared his throat, demanding everyone’s attention.

“now, onto the research practicum. i don’t want to hear any of you whining about not being able to find someone to partner up with, so i’ve taken it upon myself to put you into pairs.” he said, adjusting his glasses. “no changes. no swaps. you’re all adults now, and i expect the best of your ability.”

everyone groaned around you, causing you to sigh quietly underneath your breath. you were sure you’d be paired with someone who barely knew anything, in hopes of supporting that student - you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the slack for two people, and so, you sat there, eyes closed, already feeling the low buzz of annoyance.

names were called, people either happy or hiding their frustration, causing you to cringe when you realised your name was up next.

you braced.

“y/n y/l/n, you’re with..ah, yes. jeon jungkook.”

a beat passed in the room.

your pencil dropped from your fingers, clattering against the table loudly before you moved to collect it instinctively, your shoulders raising high in a mixture of shock, confusion, alarm and suspicion. your body went still in a way that felt violent - not butterflies or nerves, but instead, something so much darker.

you could feel your stomach cave in itself as your professor continued rattling off names, heat rushing to your cheeks, chest, fingertips. shallow breaths left your lips as you nervously peered over your laptop screen to gauge something, anything.

only, he wasn’t there.

not in front of you, three rows down. not where you felt most safe seeing him, in the blur of the back of his head, face obscured and figure present. not where he always sat, broad shoulders hunched over a screen, fingers tapping in that restless, impatient rhythm you could sometimes hear if you strained hard enough.

your heart stuttered, almost pained.

was he..not happy?

immediately, your brain went into overdrive as your now shaking hands cupped one another, lip bitten hard to hold back the intensely overwhelming waft of emotions in your head, toying with the idea that he didn’t want to be around you. the game was over. he realised how deeply messed up you were. he hated you. he was disgusted by you. he thought nothing of you.

an almost whimper left your lips as you considered that you may have imagined it all entirely - that perhaps your brain, so primed to have everything circle back to him, had merely conjured it up.

your hands were shaking harder now as you tried to relax your restless body, the onslaught of your demeaning thoughts beginning to take over you, feeling the emotion rise in your throat and pull at your eyes. you looked down at your notebook, adorned with his name, almost ready to weep.

a chair scraped next to you.

slow. deliberate. purposefully harsh.

the sound cut through the room like a blade, a few people even turning to look at such a loud noise, some grumbling in annoyance and others turning away.

you, however, looked up, with teary eyes, letting out a small exhale of what could only be described as relief.

there he stood, jungkook, laptop gripped, bag slung over his shoulder whilst his notes sat comfortably in his notebook in his other hand. he was maddeningly calm, as though he had every intention of taking up all of your personal space, like it was his and his alone.

your entire nervous system felt ablaze as you watched him sit down, not bothering to spare anyone around you both a spare glance, ignoring the professor ahead, attention on you and only you.

he noticed the beads at your waterline, the way your lip jutted out gently in a quivering pout, all against your will. his chest tightened, half in awe and other half absolutely enamoured by how sweet you looked - there was nothing he loved more than seeing you up close and personal like this, but seeing you so visibly emotional?

he wasn’t a fool, especially when it came to you. he knew you inside out, knew that you liked to stare at him all lesson just above your laptop screen, and figured once you hadn’t seen him after being paired, your brain began assuming the worst.

his silly girl.

he knew, of course he knew.

the second he had sat down and caught the dew in your eyes, and the way you hid your trembling lip in that telltale way you had when emotion threatened to overspill, his very fucking soul tightened at the mere sight of you.

you had thought he didn’t want this. didn’t want you as his partner.

didn’t want you.

the idea alone was offensive to his personhood, a concept that felt both foreign and false - he couldn’t even fathom it. he knew you were different, and despite being equally as fucked up, you were still his angel girl who processed things differently to him. he knew obsession manifested in different ways but his heart genuinely pained at the thought of you so delicately upset at the thought of it being a reality.

his jaw flexed once. twice.

his things were put out properly, his laptop beside your own, as the other students in the room began to copy him, walking over to their partners. this gave a moment of private reprise between you as he looked, properly looked at you.

jungkook swore something animalistic stirred in his chest at the sight of you. so soft, so devastated, all for him.

he leaned in closer, inappropriate even, as your perfume wrapped around his brain so harshly he felt as though he was in your room, engulfed in your scent.

“hey.” barely a whisper.

your big eyes lifted, wet. so ruined.

he nearly folded. “look at me.”

he wasn’t commanding you, no. he couldn’t bring himself to do that when your brain was already being unreasonable, his voice carrying a tone of hurt that had you meeting his gaze immediately despite how you felt. you obeyed, of course you did, no matter how damp your lashes were.

you felt so embarrassed. you were emotional by nature, but this was different. he was different. you had never wanted anything more in your entire existence, and you were still grappling with the fact he knew about your filthy obsession for him - so much that your brain often failed you whenever you’d think about it for too long, rendering you useless. thus, the negative thoughts came running in.

“did you think i left?” he asked.

you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him.

that, however, was answer enough.

his eyebrows furrowed as a flash of hurt ran over his face, only making you nibble on your lip further as a means to stop the quivering, looking away momentarily before meeting his gaze once more.

“sweet girl.” he breathed, a reprimand heavy on his tongue. he sounded like heartbreak personified. “just moved so i could come sit next to you.”

the words landed heavily inside your chest, falling all the way into your heart and dripping down to your stomach, a sense of reassurance you weren’t expecting engulfing you. unfortunately for you, you felt your lip quivering so much more, as you desperately blinked the tears away, so embarrassed to be crying in front of him again.

you nodded a little, hearing his words, the relief soothing every crack you had created within mere seconds of overthinking. he watched you, watched your cute face, the way you sank into your chair, the way your hands clutched the messy notebook on your lap.

his eyes did a double take.

your notebook.

his lips parted as his gaze settled on the book inbetween your hands, and more importantly, the page you had been doodling in for god knows how long. you snuck a glance at him, eyebrows furrowing a little by the intense stare at your hands until you realised exactly what he was looking at.

your blood ran cold.

all those stupid hearts. his name. your name. both of your names together. his last name with your first name, decorated and coloured, worshiped as though it was the prettiest thing your fingers could bring yourself to spell. they were dreams in black ink.

your hands instantly moved to shut it, but you were way too slow. his palm covered the page before you could shield it from him, hand touching yours openly, both warm and possessive. you were struck by his touch, your entire body stilling once more as you felt the sparks ignite in your stomach, all whilst he pulled it away from your lap, and into his own.

he kept his hand against you, now sat in you lap, whilst his other hand flickered through the pages almost eagerly. too eager.

his hand on you traced your thighs, touching your fingers, holding them against his in a warm embrace, grounding you, feeling the rush through his veins just feeling you. he could see from the corner of his eye your shoulders had relaxed massively, but the anxiety on your face was still evident as he flicked through pages and pages and pages and pages of his name.

jungkook stared and stared and stared, fingers tracing jagged paper from where you’d gone over certain letters a hundred time to tattoo it to the book. a shaking breath left him as he looked over your name matched with his last name.

y/n jeon. fuck.

“looks right.” he whispered, under his breath, but your hypersensitive body caught it immediately.

you looked at him immediately, gaze intense as you watched him, listened to him. his tone had become so much rougher, a hint of desperation tinging every last sentence. your chest rose and fell harshly as you absorbed his words, every inch of your very soul clinging to it like a lifeline.

jungkook took a hold of your pen, letting go of your body for a moment, to which you almost chased it back with a whine. he angled it on the paper, on a completely new page, and began doing the same as you, writing out your name along with his last name, the action bringing him more pleasure than anything he had ever done in his life yet. he was breathing heavily, hands slightly shaky as he traced and traced and traced and traced.

bravely, you reached out for his arm, fingers pressing into the skin gently as your large, teary eyes brought him back to you. the small action of him affirming you only nurtured the growing parasite in your brain, confirming to you why he was worth obsessing over - he was everything.

instead, he took a hold of your hand once more, before slyly bringing it to his lips, kissing over your knuckles one by one. then, kissing your ring finger, as though it was an act of promise, his darkened eyes never leaving yours.

“that name,” he tapped against the book, “i’ll make it yours.”

you were relieved that the room was chaos, with people chatting loudly, moving around, the professor still looking through his notes, allowing you both to converse freely, as you took a sharp intake of breath.

what better gift to a sick mind like yours and his, than a promise of eternity?

“really?” you managed to choke out, desperately fighting tears back as you begged yourself not to cry, not again. you just couldn’t help it. you felt so weepy around him.

“the plans i have for you, y/n..” he shook his head lightly, as though offended you would ever even think otherwise. “gonna get us a house, a ring on your finger. our kids, our pets.”

with each word, you watched a look of genuine bliss overcome him, as he shifted in his seat, as though the thought of such a dream life, his guaranteed future, aroused him to a scary degree. you could see the tent in his sweats begin to form, as he rolled his shoulders, legs wide enough to carry no shame. you, on the other hand, had shifted so much closer to him, your bodies now sat side to side, your hips touching, his hand intertwined to yours and pressed into your lap.

“i want all of that.” a tiny wounded noise left you at the end of your sentence, as you finally looked down at your hands, holding his tighter. “so badly..”

jungkook was fucking enamoured by you. his sweet, angel girl - your heart was too big for your body. look at the way you got all upset at the prospect of everything you had wanted confirmed. god, it had him hardening by the second, moving your tied hands over his bulge as both a means to hide it and to simply feel your touch.

you nuzzled against it immediately, though the action was hidden by the notebook by any prying eyes. his jaw hardened as he looked down at you, watching, observing, the two of you a sight for sore eyes indeed.

in the background, your professor dismissed you all as he gathered his own things, but neither of you made an effort to move, too busy caught up in each other’s feel, as your fingers caressed his hardened bulge. not enough friction to get him off, but your curiosity, your light touch - it felt better than anything. paired with those teary eyes? fuck, jungkook was ready to scream.

the room emptied pretty quickly, and no one, again, speed either of you a glance. the two smartest students paired together? it was obvious you just wanted to situate yourself in your partnership, and so, soon enough, you sat alone in a large, echoing room.

he couldn’t stop staring at you.

he moved the book, pushed it onto the table before letting go of you entirely, though your touch remained on him. he grabbed your chair and yanked, pulling it until you all but practically fell onto him in proximity, grunting lightly under his breath at the feel of you all over.

“mm. my girl, aren’t you?” he whispered lowly, as his thumb reached out to trace your bottom lip. “my soon to be wife. it’s inevitable, baby. it has to happen.”

you nodded through his words as you sniffled a little, your emotions catching up to you. “and you’ll be my husband, forever and ever?”

“always. fuck.” he nodded immediately, eyes closing for a second at your words. “why do you think i work so hard, hm? gotta give you the life you deserve, y/n, gotta make sure you get everything you ever want.”

silly boy, you wanted to scream into his face, as your lip quivered once more, a lone tear finally escaping as it rushed over your cheeks. all you fucking wanted was him. you didn’t care if you were in a run down shoebox for the rest of your life - as long as he was there, and he was yours, then it was fine. he belonged to you.

you felt overwhelmed. you felt like you were barely together.

jungkook’s expression changed evidently - not soft, never that. he seemed determined.

his hand tightened against yours, as though he was trying to understand how you had ever even reached your original conclusion, as though he genuinely couldn’t understand the way your brain worked despite it mirroring his in so many different ways. how had your brain turned the inevitable of him and you, into a mere possibility? you had no choice in this, didn’t you understand?

and so, without really thinking, his hands darted out for you. one on your waist, the other on your hip, lifting you with a practised ease and straight onto his lap, hearing your strangled gasp and not caring a second. his girl crying over him? a concept that typically would have had him snapping his hips into yours meanly, but this was different. how much more did he need to do, to get you to understand?

your legs sat on either side of him, your cute skirt flowing on each side of you too. he pushed you right against him, your lips parting in shock as you could feel him directly against you, bulge against damp panties, your teary eyes now forced to look up at darkened ones peering down at you.

“your brain is making you think stupid shit, y/n.” he said, almost meanly, though the way he was caging you in, the way his head dropped to yours was anything but. “what part of this made you think i don’t want you?”

“no..it’s just..you moved and..”

he sighed a little, thumb pressed onto your lip once more as he lightly shook his head at you. he was pushing, and pushing, until it slipped into your mouth, resting it on your tongue.

the heaviness had you wrapping your lips around it instantly as you stared at one another, your tongue lapping at it gently, though you teary eyes remained. it felt charged, sexual by nature and yet given the circumstance you were in, it was so much deeper.

“listen to me.” his tone dropped as his eyes darkened, earning him an obedient nod as you continued to lick and suck lightly, all whilst he cradled you into his lap like you were the sweetest thing on earth. “there isn’t a scenario, a factor. anything. that could make me not want you, y/n.”

his voice felt mean, harsher than you’d ever heard it, but with the way your shoulders slumped, it was exactly what you needed.

“no scenario could stop this. you could change your mind tomorrow and decide you don’t want this, baby, and i still wouldn’t fucking stop, you understand me?” he pushed his thumb deeper into your mouth. “there’s no escaping me. no escaping any of this.”

you nodded again, just as he removed his thumb from your mouth, panting lightly at the sight of a thin string of saliva connecting you and his digit. he’d replay that memory tonight.

“need you stop thinking.” he whispered then, just as your arms clambered up, wrapping them around his neck to pull him in closer, breathing in his scent. “keep working yourself into circles that don’t exist..i’m right here.”

your entire body eased, like a switch had been flipped and all of your negative thoughts had finally been eradicated. his voice, his presence, that heaviness to his voice - it all softened the hardened edges of your brain, causing you to practically slump in his arms. he could feel it too, from the way your tightened grip lessened, but you grew more comfortable in his arms.

you looked so pretty, he thought, as he properly took his time in examining you. a touch of makeup, your sweet pink jumper, a cute shirt peaking out from underneath and white skirt, you were the epitome of adorable - he wanted nothing more than to preserve you like this forever, all flushed cheeks and gentle eyes. this was why he was so deeply infatuated, how could he not be?

“this is new.” he muttered quietly to himself as his hands tugged at your jumper, fingers playing with the hem before sliding underneath, just to touch against your skin directly.

you blinked up at him. “hm?”

he was taking it in, looking at the way your skirt had bunched due to the way you were sat so intimately against him. he could feel the dampness from your panties, and though he was obsessive, he was a gentleman first - he simply pushed his bulge firmer against you to offer some relief.

the pretty sigh that escaped you was enough to have him offering you a slight smile, so enamoured by his gorgeous girl.

“you didn’t have this before.” he tugged at your jumper.

your heart boomed at his attention of detail - no doubt after months of breaking into your bedroom and going through all your things. fuck, it was so romantic it hurt.

“i just got it yesterday. do you like it?” you asked a little shyly.

“fucking love it, baby. love it so much.” his response was immediate, causing a big smile to form on your face almost instantly.

now that. that floored him.

he couldn’t help but match the grin on your face with a huff of amusement, enjoying how quickly your mood had changed from a single compliment. he’d be sure to do it more often.

“been staring at you the whole lecture, couldn’t focus on anything else.” he admitted through his own grin. “you look so cute.”

your hands met at the back of his neck, playing with the stray hair that had grown too long, your smile doing enough to brighten his entire day. the mood had shifted between you, something akin to playfulness as you quietly conversed, despite your intimate position, small giggles leaving you whilst he whispered things, allowing for a moment of ease. this was new, and outside the realm of heavy emotion you were both used to.

it felt fresh, rewarding even, to be able to just talk to him without your brain whizzing a million miles per hour. it felt good, and just looking at him, you could tell he the felt the same tenfold. he made a comment that had you giggling even louder, your head thrown forward towards his shoulder to which he too, matched you, laughing quietly, ego skyrocketing from the way he could make his girl laugh.

fuck. knowing all of these months of such meticulous stalking had led him to here, right now? he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

his laughter softened first.

not fully gone, but quieter, like it had gotten caught somewhere in his chest whilst admiring you, his sheer emotion for you so much bigger, suffocating it down. his hands beneath your jumper, holding onto your skin so firmly stilled as he tilted his head back, listening.

footsteps.

voices.

faint at first, but growing louder in the hallway outside.

you didn’t notice, not when you were too busy tucking into him, too comfortable, too content. you felt settled in a way you had never felt before, breathing in his scent whilst mumbling something about the project, light little comments without thought.

he noticed though, of course he did. his blood boiled at the thought of someone interrupting you when you were so soft, so relaxed - jaw tightening. you were in your own world, completely unaware of reality that sat just behind double doors metres away.

fuck.

he didn’t want to move you.

didn’t want to shift you when you were so happy perched on him, lightly grinding your core against him for relief, all the whilst keeping up normal conversation - you were the epitome of sweet, all warm and soft and exactly right.

but he wasn’t about to allow anyone see this. see you like this.

“hey.” he murmured, quietly.

he watched as you hummed, not pulling away, not even bothering to look up from your position - just nuzzling closer like you hadn’t heard a thing.

his mouth twitched with fondness.

“baby.”

that got you.

you lifted your head slowly, blinking at him, dazed, as though you had been pulled from a dream like state.

“we gotta move.” his thumb traced your cheek.

you shut your eyes tight immediately, with an almost bratty shake of your head, going back to your position immediately. “no..i don’t wanna.”

that did something to him.

he bucked his hips into you, causing a low whimper to get stuck in your throat. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, breathing in your scent intimately as he rubbed your back.

“yeah..i know.” he said, more to himself than anything.

unfortunately for you both, the voices outside the room were only getting louder, meaning people would be walking in any moment now. he made the decision then.

one hand slid from under your jumper,smoothing it down properly - almost subconsciously. he knew you didn’t like to look dishevelled, always appearing perfect no matter where you went, and despite your dazed brain, he would keep that up for you of course.

“c’mon.” he whispered, watching your arms tighten around his neck with a frown as he picked you up just as he stood, easing you back down onto your feet himself.

the pout on your face had him almost groaning out loud from how cute you looked, with a face of genuine upset lining each of your features at having to leave such a soft state. you felt so good, and now it was all over, a horrible sinking feeling filling your tummy at the thought. he couldn’t bare to look at you like this, not when he was half hard and sporting a small wet patch on his crotch from where you had been lightly grinding, and certainly not when you were looking at him like he was capable of hanging the moon and stars.

“you wanna go home?” he asked you, quiet, as he gathered both of your things.

you nodded, dejected at the thought of the day coming to a close with him, unsure of whether to reach for his fingers now you could actually hear people outside. you weren’t sure what to do now you had broken another wall between you.

your fingers twitched at your side, like your body was fighting an internal battle - one half desperate to grab him, the other half still battling the normalcy you had both been playing into for weeks.

jungkook noticed, of course he did.

his eyes dropped to your hands, the way you were shuffling them, before he shifted closer, arm sliding around your waist with ease. he held all of your things in one hand whilst you slipped your half empty bag over your shoulder, one hand on him at all times, holding him tight to you.

his jaw flexed, subtly, thinking too much for a man who had spent his entire life finding answers coming naturally to him.

“i’m coming with you.” he said, with a tone of finality.

your breath caught.

you looked up at him, eyes lighting up more than he had ever seen, face filled with a level of excitement that had him softening in front of you. his shoulders slumped lightly at the sight, a faint smile forming at the way you looked up.

“really?”

“yeah.” he nodded, laughing lightly. “come on.”

his hand slid down to properly intertwine with your own before he pulled it up to his lips, planting a soft, buttery kiss so faintly on the back of it, you wondered if he had done it at all. he led you to the doors, large back almost hiding you completely due to your size difference, something that had your brain leaking with every chance.

the hallway was much busier than either of you had expected, confirming his decision to get up when you did. the thought of anyone else seeing you so pliant truly made him angry, the deep, sadistic part of his brain igniting at the sheer idea.

you couldn’t help the soft smile that was present on your face as you looked at your intertwined hands, biting back a bigger grin as he led you through, not sparing anyone else a single glance. you were the most popular girl on campus, someone who rarely dated, never gave anyone a chance, especially not people that were deemed to be on your social calibre and yet here you were, hand in hand with a nerd from your physics class.

to say people were staring was an understatement.

your heart was beating out of your chest as you felt jungkook squeeze your hand, offering you a look as he pulled you flush against him. the both of you walked beside one another, all whilst people whispered, some gawking, others analysing you both in genuine confusion. none of them knew.

none of them understood the sick fucking idolisation you both had interlaced into each other’s minds.

he dipped his head as you walked to the entrance, this thumb still caressing your head. “you look so fucking pretty.”

your stomach flipped.

“you already said that.” you flushed with a gentle pat to his arm, something that had his dimpled cheek on show.

“and you deserve to hear it again.” he said almost casually, causing you to giggle behind your hand, flustered beyond belief.

by the time you reached the exit, the air around you felt so much different. it felt charged, both cold and sharp, and yet it did nothing to cool your overheated body. if anything, you felt even more aware of him as you left the safety of your shared campus and out into the real world, out into reality where things were so much harsher - more real.

his hand. you were hyper aware of it now.

the way it refused to let you go even as he pushed the door open for you, guiding you through like it was an instinct. despite the heavy stares, he remained dismissive of everyone else, it meant little to him after all. he wasn’t used to the looks, but it came with the territory - you were the hottest girl on campus, and you were all fucking his.

you both slowed on the steps. not completely, but enough to have you coming to a pause.

you looked up at him, all starry eyed. “my place..or?”

and there it was. jungkook’s jaw twitched, his eyes darkening instantly as he took a heavy step towards you.

“mine.” no hesitation.

your breath hitched, lips parting.

“it’s closer.” he explained. “and i don’t feel like waiting.”

your stomach was flipping violently as all you could give him was a pathetic nod, fingers clinging to him harsher than ever.

and this time, when he pulled you close, leading you to his car that was parked relatively nearby, there was no hesitation whatsoever. jungkook was a man starved, finally about to take his fill - every inch of you. all his

—

stepping foot into jungkook’s apartment was exactly what you assumed it would be.

he was a meticulous person by nature, and as a result, his living space depicted that clearly - rows of bookshelves all neatly arranged, whilst the decor remained minimal and clean, tones of navy and cream throughout. there were little things, things that didn’t quite match if anyone else had walked in, but to your eye, you understood immediately.

a pink and white throw sat on the edge of the couch, folded. you recognised it to be the exact one you had conveniently ‘lost’ two weeks ago. rows of candles sat among the bookshelves, some completely used, scents you recognised as the exact ones you’d often buy. it wasn’t until you looked closer that you realised they really were the candles that were once in your own room.

you turned to look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips.

he met your gaze, quiet, simply watching, examining even, to see your reaction. to see the romance flourish from behind your eyes felt assuring in ways he didn’t realise he could feel, and yet here he was.

he watched as you put your bag down, tucking strands of hair behind your ear, already feeling comfortable. you couldn’t explain it, but being here felt the epitome of safety, and you knew that was his exact intention, a soft sigh of content leaving your lips as you took a few steps forward, your shoes by the door.

“smells so nice.” you murmured quietly, looking over your shoulder as you walked into his space properly.

“i bought the diffuser you like.” he responded smoothly, watching a smile pull at your features in real time.

“you’re so cute.” you squeaked, hands rushing to your own cheeks as though you couldn’t take it. instead, his darkened eyes narrowed. “don’t call me that.”

you ignored him, letting out an exaggerated sigh of fondness as you walked into his kitchen next, fingers brushing against his clean counters, peering at the snacks on his dining table.

“these are my favourite sweets.” you hummed absentmindedly, picking up the pack of sour cherries.

he didn’t respond, causing you to turn on your heel, to peer over and see where his attention lay. upon looking at him, you noticed a gentle dusting of pink on the tops of his cheeks, his ears stained red. it wasn’t that he had any shame in stalking you, non whatsoever - this just felt different. it felt domesticated, or as domesticated as it could get between people as fucked up as you both.

your scents, your candles, your blanket, your favourite snacks. it was like his space was curated in mind of you and you alone. as though his only thought process was that everything in his life went back to you anyway, and so it naturally made sense to come home to something that felt like you. of all the things he had done, all the things he had said, it was this. this that truly made you feel wanted.

and so, once you stopped your thinking, you found yourself walking back over to him, all as he watched, stood, examining you. his eyebrows lifted in partial shock as you immediately wrapped your arms around his waist, holding him to you as though you were a koala desperate to be held.

he immediately reciprocated.

his arms wrapped around you also, holding you close to his chest as you snuggled deeper, breathing in his scent almost hungrily. as your eyes met, he couldn’t help but stare at the freckles held in your eyes, something choking him from the inside from the mere look you gave him.

you were transcendent, beyond belief and theory - he knew in his heart of hearts he wasn’t worthy of one inch of you, and yet he would never let you go. you were all his, until his dying breath.

“it feels different to what i thought it would be like.” you admitted, in a small voice, eyes cast down to his stomach momentarily before resuming your stare at him.

“what?” he rasped, voice tight.

you let silence settle between you for a second.

“i’ve always wanted you. i just..i don’t know, i guess i never thought of there being a reality where this could actually work, i mean.. i didn’t exactly think you’d be like me.” you confessed, eyebrows slightly knitted.

it was his turn for his eyebrows to furrow.

“you could have had me,” his voice sounded rough. “you could have had me the moment you saw me.”

“not in the way i wanted.” you immediately shook your head.

he looked confused.

“it’s hard to explain, okay? i don’t know.” you sighed a little as one of his hands lifted, cupping your cheek. “just always thought that i’d have to hide this side of me so i wouldn’t scare you away, and now that this is real and it’s happening, i just..i never expected it to be like this. it feels different.”

he absorbed your words.

he understood them, of course he did. he differed from you openly - he had always known that if he was to get a taste of your company, he’d keep you shackled to his obsession under lock and key. you, however, were so sweet, so darling - how could he listen to your words without his heart aching so gently?

“no matter how disturbed you feel by your own brain,” he whispered then, thumb tracing your cheek. “no matter how fucked up, just know that i’ve done it too. i’ve done worse and just because i have you, it doesn’t mean i’ll stop. you know that, right baby?” he almost cooed.

your eyelashes fluttered gently, as though you were being told a fucking lullaby.

“promise?” you asked.

instead of responding, jungkook released your face, instead planting the sweetest of kisses to your forehead, breath slightly shaky as he pulled away. taking a hold of your hand, intertwining your fingers, he stepped back slowly but surely. your eyebrows knitted as you watched him edge towards another door, one you assumed was his bedroom.

he didn’t rush you. never. it wasn’t in his nature to make you despite his certainty - so used to being unyielding in every other aspect of his life. every move felt measured, calculated, as though whatever sat behind the door of his bedroom held more weight than anything you were able to conjure.

“c’mere.”

you followed without question.

his room was dimmer than any other part of his apartment, with blinds drawn to only allow for small slivers of sunlight to bleed over his oak flooring. everything sat in its place meticulously, almost too well, with his large bed made to perfection, his clothes cung, ironed crisply and his desk.

his desk sat in the corner of the room, and though the space was large, it took up a considerable chunk considering the three monitors that sat idly, waiting to be turned on.

his space was odd. you couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but a small part of you assumed that he kept it pristine on purpose - perhaps in hopes that it would be ready always for you. you nibbled away on your bottom lip, eyes taking in everything as he continued to lead you inside, your scent seemingly everywhere. it mingled with his own.

your brain went blank as he turned to face you, properly now, leading you over to his chair, rolling it out lightly before taking a comfortable seat. you watched him, head tilted, almost ready to question what he was doing before his arms darted out at you.

large hands grabbed at your waist, pulling you back until you were being pushed onto his lap. he situated you so your back touched his chest comfortably, a position you were very quickly enjoying as you could feel his hands quite literally all over you.

you felt secure, safe. you felt entirely whole in his arms like this, so much so that you let out a soft sigh, just as his head dipped. his lips began grazing the skin of your neck, letting out his own deep exhales, breathing in your scent so openly it had your thighs trembling. he could feel it. could feel all of you. you on his lap, snuggled into him, his aching cock already nestled against you. you felt like home.

the shaky breath that escaped you pleased him greatly, as it acted as direct confirmation of how you felt. just like he did.

“eyes on the screens, baby.” he whispered down at you, catching you staring at him over your shoulder. “c’mere. got something to show you.”

you properly rested against him now, watching as one of his hands darted out to the mouse, his computer finally turning on.

the shy smile that formed as you watched him type in his password, your name, to access his desktop was beyond anything. he could feel the way you curled into him deeper, even going so far as to grind against him lightly. enough to have him bucking up at you, but also not enough to ever claim anything other than mere innocence.

you watched as the screens came to life, jungkook clicking a few things, moving others around as he took his time in whatever he awaited to show you. you were beginning to get restless, moving around on his lap, nibbling away on your lip a little more - you had all of his attention and yet you wanted so much more of it, until you were fully overwhelmed.

“stay still.” he let out a sudden hiss.

you flushed.

you hadn’t realised that your panties were practically stuck to you, skin to skin, from how wet you were getting. from the moment in the classroom until now, you had been horny, that was for certain, but this was different. jungkook had yet to even kiss you, and yet you were grinding yourself on his cock like it was the most normal thing in the world.

suddenly, you were brought out of your haze, your hips stilling for a second as you tried to comprehend what your eyes were seeing before you on the screens.

was that..?

your gasp was loud enough to echo around the room, as jungkook’s hands now sat firmly against your stomach, refusing to let you go, despite what was directly in front of you.

your room.

the camera angle was situated to the top of your wardrobe, tilted so it had the perfect angle of your entire room, most notably your bedroom. your bed still sat in the way you had left it, done, with your teddy sat comfortably in the middle. your makeup station was as messy as always, as you had ran slightly late, causing you to assure yourself you could just clean it when you were home.

the flashing red dot in the corner was what had you struggling to breathe.

live?

“jungkook.” your breath caught, sharp and fragile, like it might shatter had you moved whatsoever.

he continued planting kisses to your neck softly, guiding upwards until he reached your jaw and cheek. “keep looking, baby.”

the second screen shifted. your bathroom. notably, your shower.

this one sat high, connected to the ceiling of your shower, tilted downwards so it was all it could see. that had you gasping even louder as you lurched forward, his grip breaking on you as you examined the screen from up close. a sick part of him wanted to punish you for leaving his arms so easily, but he draw an exception - you were too cute when you were shocked.

your heart began pounding out of your fucking chest. not out of fear, not quite - something else, something much heavier. something that made your skin tight with want, the very parasite in your brain singing loudly as it interpreted this in the only way it knew how.

jungkook loved you.

you could see it now, see it clearer than ever, as your throat began to constrict, holding back a wave of emotion you truly weren’t ready for. you leaned back into his arms after a few moments, to which he simply watched you watch the screens, as though this was the exact moment he had waited for.

it was.

god. jungkook had never been harder watching the realisation settle into your face, into your body. he told you, he had told you from the second he had revealed himself to you that he liked to watch you. you had no idea to what extent, but of course the following you around grew tired after a while.

no, see, he needed something else. something entirely his, that infringed on your very personal being - he wanted to take something from you so it could become his too, shared. he chose your privacy.

you turned to him then, eyes filled with teary wonder, a shaky smile forming on either side of your lips.

“you watch me?” you asked, desperate to hear it confirmed on his lips.

to that, he simply tugged you closer to him, firmly pressing you on his cock once more. “all the time. always.”

you shuddered, fingers clinging to his own that clutched your body. you didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to voice the utter devotion trapped in your throat, not when he was so openly displaying his own. you genuinely believed this to be the most romantic thing anyone had ever one for you, and with the way your pussy soaked him through multiple layers, he knew.

“when you sleep,” he murmured almost thoughtfully, “you curl into your pillow. “cutest thing i’ve ever fucking seen.”

you couldn’t speak. not when your heart was pounding so hard.

“and when you shower..” his eyes shut for a moment, as though imagining. “fuck, baby. you can’t blame me, right? all that water over these tits.”

he was whispering into your ear, rough hands suddenly travelling up to cup your breasts, both engulfing as though it was his every right. you breathed out, immediately closing your eyes at the feel of him massaging, pulling, cupping, squeezing.

you couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. you were staring at your own bedroom, your most intimate space, all whilst he sat, all but worshiping you within the four walls of his own. he continued planting kisses to your neck, your cheek, your head, breathing in the scent in your air whilst long fingers began to unbutton your shirt, pushing your jumper up to your chin, revealing skin with each passing movement.

you let him. of course you did. this was every dream and fantasy all in one.

cold air brushed against bare breasts as he pulled your lacy bra down, just enough to release them, his hands immediately returning to them to provide the attention you deserved.

you let out a smooth whine, all whilst he too huffed under his breath, as though he couldn’t fathom he was touching you like this. he nuzzled his nose into your hair, just as your head tipped back, his fingers circling your nipples, pulling at them gently.

“like watching you play with them..” he whispered then in your ear. “kills me every time.”

“hm?” you let out, watching him toy with you.

“never enough though, is it? need me to do it for you.”

you nodded at that, albeit slightly desperately as you felt your mouth salivate. his hands started to toy with you harder, pushing his hands against your skin as a means to brand you. you could feel it, his silent, invisible mark - it was tattooed onto your very soul, something you were beginning to wear with pride.

“how much..do you watch?” you asked through a breathy moan, as you felt his body shift.

one arm slipped down to your waist, continuing the grinding with ease whilst one hand remained on your boob, pulling, cupping. his mouth dropped to your shoulder, planting kisses on bare skin before sinking his teeth slowly into a bite, marking you physically.

“mm..” he grunted, feeling pleasure up and down his body as all of his blood rushed to his cock, forcing it to strain uncomfortably against his sweats. “every night, i like watching you play with your cunt. your fingers are so small though, never quite hits where you need it, right?”

his words had your brain swimming as you let out a loud moan, fingernails digging into skin. he was spewing filth into your ears, feeding that dirty disease inside of your brain, fostering it. nurturing it.

you shook your head in agreement at his words, only getting wetter and wetter with each passing minute.

the thought of him watching you every night as your fingers plunged in and out of yourself, your thoughts plagued with him and him alone. what he would do to you, how he would treat you, all before you had ever even exchanged a word with him. the frequency of your secret masturbation escapees only got higher and higher after the party, knowing he too was attracted to you.

it all felt like too much and not enough, causing you to turn in his hold. his hands on you dropped as you slid, moving your legs so you were now straddling him, face to face, his eyes finally meeting yours.

you didn’t want to wait, not when he had just shown you the most romantic thing you had ever seen, whispered heartfelt secrets and touched you intimately - enough was enough. you had played the long game, he even longer, and it was time for something to give before your brain shut down completely.

and so, you grabbed jungkook by the face, before pressing your lips against his.

the kiss was unlike anything you had ever experienced, or expected. at first, you took charge, as shock filtered through every running vein of jungkook’s body, his brain unable to compute his reality. that only lasted a few seconds, until he sat up properly, grabbing you with haste and pushing you against his desk, kissing you back with a reverence.

it was neither soft nor gentle, but rather everything you needed it to be.

you tugged him closer as he too did the same, your mouths moving in unison, bodies grinding, using one another. you couldn’t keep your hands off of him and he didn’t bother even trying to fight it, yanking your jumper and shirt off of you completely now, letting it fall somewhere onto the ground, the cool air hitting your skin. you were left in your skirt and underwear, but you watched as he yanked your bra off as though it was a nuisance, finally freeing you completely.

only then did he part from your lips, lowering his head to properly ravish your breasts.

he couldn’t help the loud groan as he bit against your nipples, sucking on them to soothe, only to do it all again. fuck, you were so sweet, even the taste of your skin was enough to have his mind race. he couldn’t bring himself to decide what to do, going between one breast in his pith, to kissing you once more, passionately pushing you further into the desk until it was beginning to bite, only to return to your other breast.

purpled hickeys were beginning to form all over you as he created a constellation, a physical declaration of his feelings for you, a masterpiece made entirely of you and him.

“please.” you begged him, grinding harsher and harsher.

it wasn’t enough. the pleasure would catch, only to be subdued, causing you to faster and faster and yet it wasn’t enough stimulation to get you even close to orgasming for him. he was genuinely breathless at the sight of you, grabbing your hips and lifting you immediately.

he led you to his bed, dropping you in a far gentler manner you were expecting - you, however, grabbed him by his t-shirt and tugged him down before pushing it off of him.

your breath caught as he watched your expression, your shaking hands tracing the tattoos on his arm, the chest and shoulder piece that felt fresh, you fingers trailing over him hungrily. you remembered seeing him like this for the first time at the pool party, how undone you had been at the sight as though it was beyond your wildest imagination - now here you were, underneath him, ready to be ruined.

“look at me.” he panted, nose pushing against yours to get your eyes on him. you obliged. your gazes met, heavy and heated, hands still running over him. “after this..there’s no going back.”

“i know.” you whispered, nodding, knowing the implications of what was to come.

“you’re mine. publicly. visibly. everyone will know.” he fought the burger to capture your lips as he watched you exhale so sweetly, as though what we was saying was music to your ears. “need you to think baby. is that what you want? honestly?”

at that, you pulled him down once more, your lips capturing his in surprise for the second time that day. he melted against yours as your lips moved softer than ever, a gentle but knowing kiss shared between you.

you pulled away slowly. “you’re all i want. i don’t wanna hide how i feel anymore.”

jungkook closed his eyes, still hovering over you as he let out a shaking breath, chest visibly shuddering at your words. god, you were like his personal brand of drug - he could feel you in his blood stream, infusing.

seeing the effect on him had your eyes almost watering, but the need in your stomach was so much bigger. so much harsher.

and so, you tugged at his joggers, as a means to get his attention once more, to which you succeeded as he immediately caught your jaw with his mouth, instead leaning down to remove your skirt immediately. you were left in nothing more than your utterly soaked panties, your legs wide and spread, unable to look away from him.

he let out a loud groan as he parted from your arms, not with resistance of course as your nails dragged against his biceps. he moved down, until he was sat on his knees between your legs, grabbing your thighs and yanking you down the bed with his hold.

you squealed at the sudden movement, only to squeak again when you suddenly felt his nose push against your sensitive clit, all through your clothed cunt. your chest began to rise and fall at the sight of him doing the one thing you had dreamt so regularly of, the way he was openly breathing you in.

god, it was so messed up. he was freaked out beyond belief but he didn’t give a fuck, breathing in his favourite scent. “you know how many panties i’ve stolen from your hamper just to be able to smell this? fuck.”

his words had you flushed from your cheeks to your toes.

“d-don’t say that!”

his eyes met yours.

“used to wrap them around my cock thinking of you, baby.” he practically cooed at you, as he planted pepper kisses to your clit, before finally pushing the material to one side.

you couldn’t even let his words sink into your brain as he finally launched. his mouth attacked your weeping pussy as though you owed him something, and a part of you acknowledged it - he had been sniffing your panties, wrapping them around his cock, pumping in your bed to the thought of you and your scent but now? actually tasting you? he thought he was going to die.

the moans you were letting out echoed onto the walls, and jungkook smirked, knowing they were thin as paper. his friends all lived on either side of him, all in shared apartments whilst he lived alone. though they were not privy to the extent of his perversion, they were well versed in the knowledge of you and his utter devotion. they knew he’d never bring any other woman other than you into his home.

he continued his attack. sucking on your clit to begin with, tracing letters, humming, teeth slightly grazing which had you jolting out of pure stimulation before he pinned you back onto the bed. your hands rushed into his air, desperate for a semblance of comfort that only he could provide.

it took you a full minute to realise what he was spelling out on your poor pussy.

he was telling you he loved you, with v’s and o’s and i’s all curated to bring you closer and closer to cumming on his tongue, all whilst a finger began to prod at your entrance. within seconds, he inserted, letting it go as deep as you could take it, causing you to let out a loud whine.

you were being forced still on the bed, with one hand on your stomach pinning you down, all the whilst jungkook attacked. he pumped and licked, only to insert another finger whilst you were still getting adjusted to one.

you had been with other guys, sure, all before jungkook was even a thing in your mind. none were very good with their hands, or anything for that matter, and so you had come to terms with the fact sex would always be boring for you.

having him inbetween your legs, pleasuring you, all whilst he rutted into the bed himself, moaning between your legs as though he could feel the pleasure in your stomach - it was beyond anything you could conjure.

“fuck, you’re so tight. gotta loosen you up, baby, or you won’t be able to take my cock.” he hissed against you, curling his fingers inside.

you jolted again, legs restless as your thighs clamped around his head, all but suffocating him. not that he gave a fuck - he would happily die right here if given the chance.

“jungkook! i-i..” you could barely speak.

your hips bucked into his mouth after he sucked particularly harshly, causing a squeal to escape you before you pulled at his hair a little too roughly. he groaned loudly at the shot of pain, liking it more than he expected. the feeling of pain by your hands turned him on beyond belief.

he could feel you clenching, tightening around his fingers. could feel the pulsations straight to his cock which was practically weaping, begging for your attention but he needed to be patient. he was confessing his love to you against your sweet core, tasting you as if you were the only meal he’d ever be granted.

you realised very quickly that jeon jungkook was the definition of a fucking munch.

he was lost between your legs, hissing the dirtiest things you’d ever heard, about how you were made to take his tongue, how you needed to loosen up or else he’d have to fuck you open, something about how good it felt to be suffocated by your thighs. your brain was malfunctioning officially as you sunk deeper and deeper into the bed.

“close..” you managed to choke out, though he could hardly hear you, blood rushing to his head as he continued his actions, tongue laying flat to lap you up as much as possible.

you didn’t last much longer, his fingers curling into that spongy part inside of you that had you cumming, your back arching harshly, your hands pulling at his hair as you squealed loudly enough for the entire apartment complex to hear.

jungkook fucked you through it, large digits chasing the remnants of your high as he lapped up your slick, grunting about “how sweet you tasted when you cum.”

by the time your orgasm died down, jungkook had to be forcibly removed from between your thighs as you patted and pushed until he finally pulled back. his mouth was a mess, but it was his eyes that unnerved you - they looked entirely black, as though what he had just experienced was enough to take him to an early grave.

unfortunately for him, you hadn’t even had a chance to start.

your eyes fell to the large tent now in his sweats, the wet patch that had angrily formed. you could have cum again just from the sight of it, a measly sigh escaping you as you sat up on your elbows, hand darting out to message it firmly.

his jaw dropped lightly as you both kept eye contact, watching the way your hooded eyes only got drowsier and drowsier, falling into cockdrunk territory without even having it inside of you. it didn’t take long nor much before your positions were switched, with him now sat up, and you inbetween his legs, pulling down his sweats as though they were personally offending you.

you watched his cock spring up, slapping your cheek as it rested heavy on your face, a sight jungkook swore he could never forget even if he wanted to. his sweet girl.. to think he had once thought you were entirely innocent, and not at all privy to the perversion that plagued him so fully. if only he had known then that you too were a proud victim of it - he would have fucked you sooner.

he watched as your hands immediately took a hold of him, pumping up and down slowly, your eyes meeting his and refusing to look away.

“i won’t last.” he whispered down at you, to which you offered him a sly, coy smile. “just want a taste, kookie..you won’t deny me, right?”

fuck.

a girl like you needed your throat fucked.

instead of responding, he simply brushed your hair out of your face just as your tongue darted out, licking a large stripe up his tip. he was bigger than any guy you’d been with, and so much thicker, needing both hands just to wrap around him. you knew a cock like this would ruin you for life - no one would ever compare again, not when it was so pretty.

you watched as he shuddered, your tongue circulating his slit before tracing the vein down his cock, giggling lightly as you felt his hands in your hair tighten.

“don’t fucking tease.” he hissed at you, cheeks flushed red.

you obliged, though the cheeky smile on your lips, alongside your leaking cunt, proved you were up to no good.

you wrapped your mouth around his tip entirely, lips stretching wide as you began to bob your head immediately, pumping the rest of his cock that you couldn’t reach with both hands. he threw his head back in pleasure, grunting loudly as he returned to watch you.

neither of you could look away as you took more and more of him down your throat, until you began to gag too harshly, releasing him for a moment only to return to your actions. you could feel spit dribbling down the sides of your mouth, continuing to gag, continuing to pump, chasing more and more.

jungkook needed to stop you. he wanted his cum inside you only, knowing it would be such a waste if it sat inside of your stomach instead of your womb but fuck. you were a minx. just the way you bobbed your head so eagerly, as though this was all you’d ever wanted - how could he deny his sweet girl?

and so, with both hands on your head, jungkook began to push it down.

he watched you whimper, forced to take more of him down your throat, but he was uncaring, secretly loving the way you desperately scrambled to accommodate him. he began to thrust lightly, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt him use you in the exact way you would often daydream about.

he released you for a moment, watching you pull off of his cock with a choke, coughing for air for a few seconds. he pulled up your chin once it subsided, pulling you in close until your lips connected once more. you could both taste each an other on your tongues, a moan leaving you at the thought.

“can’t wait any longer, baby.” he huffed, grabbing one of his pillows and situating it under your head comfortably.

your heart sang as you watched him prioritise your comfort before grabbing another pillow, placing it directly under your hips, your pussy now elevated for him to fuck exactly the way he wanted. your legs were still shaking, your throat sore from the way it had just been toyed with and yet there was nothing more than you wanted than him.

“no condoms.” you immediately said, as he began inching towards you.

jungkook wanted to laugh. he had every fucking intention of cumming inside of you, you knew that. he knew that. you were the cutest thing he had ever seen, asserting your wants just the way he wanted you to - despite his selfless nature when it came to you, he was a man with needs. he wanted you round and plump.

“no condoms.” he repeated, watching the way your eyelashes fluttered up at him before he pressed another kiss to your lips, passionate.

your tongues lapped at one another, all whilst he began to rest his cock against your core, moving, pressing into you so you’d feel every inch of what was about to penetrate you. he loved the way you moaned into his mouth, allowing for him to swallow every noise as though it was his favourite song.

as he pulled away, a thin string of saliva connected you both, a lidded look on his features.

he sat up from his position, grabbing onto your legs once more, pulling you slightly closer before continuing to rub his cock against you, beginning to push the tip in.

your eyes widened, a gasp loudly tearing into the space once more as you felt him push, push, push. his cock was breaking you in real time as he inserted inch after inch.

you couldn’t breathe.

this was the last barrier separating you, the one, final thing to make your relationship whole and now he was fully inside of you. you could feel him deep, your breath caught as your arms wrapped around his neck, all whilst he pulled himself down so his own arms were at either side of your head.

he could see it was too much, could see it in the way your eyes kept opening and shutting, your chest rising and falling, your legs parting and closing. he wanted to have you like this always, so sweet - his angel girl. god, he’d give you the world now that you were his, all soaked and clenching on his cock like he knew you would be.

he began to thrust slowly, whilst you let out gasps, whines, hums of both pleasure and pain. for every ounce of ache, you felt thrill tenfold as he made you keep your eye contact, gaze locked entirely on him.

“feel that, baby?” he cooed gently, so loving, so sweet. “you can never get rid of me, now. not even if you try.”

in response, you clenched around him hard. he choked.

“you can’t leave me either.” you whimpered up at him, his forehead coming down to connect with your own. “not allowed.”

“leave you? i’d sooner die.” he hissed immediately, as though the notion drove him insane to think about. at that, you felt your bottom lip quiver slightly. “my weepy baby.”

at that, his thrusts finally began to quicken.

they picked up in pace and pressure, as his thrusts now landed harder. faster. meaner.

the sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off of the walls as your name was chanted on his breath, all whilst you clawed at his cheeks, neck and shoulders. he could feel the pain come in waves as the scratches you left on him began to bleed lightly, not that he gave a fuck - he wanted you to mark him in every single way.

by the time he was pounding into you, you were openly crying up at him.

you were so overwhelmed, tears pooling on either side of the pillow as you begged him not to stop, desperate to keep him inside of you for as long as he could, your hips coming up to meet his thrusts. it just felt so good, so whole, nothing had ever felt so right before.

was this a taste of heaven, jungkook thought, as he leaned down to kiss you through your blabbering, all whilst you tried to keep your sobs at bay. god, you were driving him insane. to know you were crying out of pleasure was akin to his wildest dreams, his eyes shutting tight to ward off any thoughts of cumming too soon.

“my girl, my girl, my girl.” he chanted down at you, heaving lightly. “fuck..don’t know what to do with you. need to give you the world but it’s not enough.”

“just want you. you’re my world.” you whimpered at him, all whilst clenching down hard causing him to hiss loudly.

your words were fucking him up. his head swarmed with flashing images of you knocked up, thick diamond on your left hand, cute little dress stretched over your stomach as he cooked for you. a house on a suburban street, with a nice garden and a white picket fence. fuck. he had to give you it all.

“open.” he growled down at you, to which you opened your mouth immediately.

he spat inside, watching the way you swallowed almost instantly, tongue lolling out of your mouth to show him.

“good fucking girl. my stupid baby doesn’t wanna think no more, huh? just needs me to tell her what to do.”

“mhm.” you confirmed, pussy throbbing at his condescending tone. “that's how i want you, all fucked out. need to get you pregnant soon, can’t have this pussy empty ever again.”

at that, you felt your eyes roll to the back of your skull as your legs began to shake. he knew you were close, but he wasn’t done with you yet.

you let out the loudest whine of the night, protesting as he slipped out of you, cock soaked from your juices as it slapped against his stomach. he laughed lightly at how bratty you sounded, the pout on your lips paired with the tears streaming down your face enough to drive any man fucking wild.

he pulled you up by your arms, almost harshly as he rested against the bed frame, pillow behind his back to support you both before pulling you into his lap. you felt his cock prod at your entrance before he all but pushed you down onto it, forcing you to take every inch once more.

the moan you let out would forever remain imprinted onto his memory as he watched your face squeeze in pleasure, feeling him so much deeper in this position. he pulled your legs on either side of him, so you were properly sat, all whilst he cradled you to him.

he began picking you up and dropping you, both of you hissing at the feel of you so much tighter this way, if that was ever possible. he was practically using you, with the way he was manhandling your body, your arms wrapped around his neck as you let him do whatever he wanted in the name of pleasure.

“don’t want t..this to stop..fuck, kookie.” you moaned, watching the way his skin bled lightly from your earlier attacks.

“won’t stop baby.” he let out a breathy exhale. “gonna do this to you every chance i can. fuck you, watch you when you’re not with me, gonna break in like i always do. hm, you want that? you want kookie to stalk you, still?”

“yes.” you sobbed at him, nodding desperately as you began matching his thrusts, it bordering on masochism with the way he was pounding into you. “please don’t stop.”

“sick fucking girl. makes you wet thinking about me stalking you, huh?” he hissed, fingers rubbing at your clit for you, to which you continued to nod. “that’s why we’re a match, baby. that fucked up part of your brain is just like mine, it makes my cock hard too.”

“don’t want anything to change.” you whimpered through a sob, watching the way his eyes rolled back. “don’t worry..fuck..just like that. gonna make sure you feel it this time, hm? make sure you see me everywhere.”

the pleasure, the thought, the promise. it was too much and not enough.

“promise, kookie? promise me.” you begged through your tears, watching as they streamed down your face, falling between you and straight onto where your bodies met, causing jungkook to fuck them back into you. “promise baby. gonna stalk you until you beg me to stop and even then, s’not your choice, huh?”

his words ripped you over the edge as your breathing stopped, cockdrunk and orgasming on his too fat cock. your body convulsed, his arms caging you in as he fucked into you, riding out your orgasm in a way that had your feet wrapping around him tightly.

jungkook watched your eyes shut tight before you squeaked from overstimulation, as he too chased his high, following you closely as he felt his orgasm wash over him. he grabbed onto your body, clutching you tight as he came and came and came and came.

he captured your lips with his own as he rode out his high, feeling you quiver with the way you milked him for every last drop. your mouths moved in unison, his tongue lapping at yours once more as you twitched around him, collapsing in his arms from exhaustion after.

you both panted, both unable to comprehend what had just happened, and yet neither of you made any effort to move. he pulled you closer, still inside, holding you tight, kissing every inch of your face, whispering sweet nothings.

“so good to me.” he whispered down at you right as you closed your eyes, exhausting taking a hold of you as it slowly seeped into your bloodstream.

—

the cafe off campus was home to you by now, and home to the relationship you had fostered with jungkook. this was where he had first seen you, where he had first tasted the sweet, familiar sensation of obsession.

now, he came here with you, hand in hand as he ordered your favourite drink and a cookie, all whilst you rested your head on his bicep as though you were finally comfortable. people around you would stare, half in confusion and other curiosity at the sight of the most popular girl on campus so smitten with her nerdy, know it all boyfriend who was known for his dry attitude. it seemed it was only you who he bothered with, and that confused everyone else even more.

what did you see in him, they wondered. was he rich? did he have a trust fund? sure he was attractive, with his large frame and tattoos, piercings glinting in the sun but you were on a whole other league. they simply couldn’t work it out.

such fools, you often thought, scoffing at the way they’d think. they had no idea what jungkook was to you, and what he represented. a physical manifestation of every deep, twisted desire in your darkened mind - wholly accepting, entirely loving. he was the love of your life, and you. oh, you were the very epitome of life itself for him.

he liked when you’d both sit in the corner, where he’d sit across from you, laughing quietly at whatever you’d tell him as though anything you said was intensely humorous. your cheeks would flush pink as he would take his time in complimenting you, from your hair to your outfit, all the way down to the cute ballet flats that adorned your feet.

“c’mon, finish your cookie.” he’d remind, voice soft despite his darkened demeanour, only for his gentle tone to drop whenever someone would ask him a question, or even look his way.

the only other person he was even remotely as nice to was his own personal circle, and of course, yejin, who you adored more than words. she’d often sit with you both, just so you could both talk and gossip as you’d often do, whilst jungkook merely sat and admired you.

sometimes he would tell you he couldn’t join you just to have an excuse to stalk you. the thought had your panties damp in a second, as you would peer from the corner of your eye, noticing a shadow, a cap and mask, all hidden away in the corners of the room. fuck.

now you were able to spot it, it made the game so much more thrilling.

you were at his home every chance you could get, or him at yours, but on the off chance you would fall asleep on your own, you’d be sure to find the most risqué underwear you could find, all so you could perch on your bed at an angle you knew he’d enjoy. from waking up in the middle of the night to touch yourself to openly addressing him, you took full advantage of his voyeuristic tendencies.

sometimes, you’d wake up to find him in bed next to you, bulge nestled right against where you needed him most, a reminder that he was able to break in when you least expected. of course, that also meant you were constantly undergoing a shortage of panties as he’d steal them.

that didn’t mean you had stopped, however, as you too felt your mind fall deeper into madness.

he had been paired with another girl for a physics project, to which they had shared contact information to divide tasks. innocent enough for most but it had you falling into a deep, dark jealousy, as you hacked into his phone with every chance you got, reading his messages, nibbling away at your lip despite knowing he knew what you were doing.

considering the messages so far consisted of “i’ve done section 2.” and “please do section 4 before monday.” you knew you had nothing to stress about, but you couldn’t reason with someone with a parasitic brain. even after the project was over, you found yourself looking through his phone almost excitedly, it bringing you a sense of entertainment and joy.

you’d leave little snippets of yourself there to remind him you were always watching him - ranging from little i love you’s in his note apps to full on nudes of your body in his photo album, to which he’d go feral for once he’d find them.

neither of you were healthy. neither of you were normal and yet you were happy beyond belief, living a life you were sure that no one else could have given you.

it wasn’t until yejin started hanging around with jungkook’s friends, all of you interacting, that you realised his tendencies were beginning to rub off on his own circle - his oldest friend, seokjin, staring deeply at her with a look of pure and unyielding devotion. she, of course, being a smart girl completely fed into it, making him her little boy toy almost immediately.

“nothing better than an obsessive man.” she had hummed to you with a wink, watching him scramble to go get her the drink she had asked for.

if only she knew how deeply you agreed with the sentiment.

“you’re sick.” you murmured at her with a coy grin, though there were no bite to your words.

yejin only grinned with a small giggle, leaning back into her chair as she crossed her legs, entirely unbothered. “hm, and you’re not?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t need to when your grin gave you away.

the scrape of the chair beside you was familiar now, and expected, as jungkook hand found its usual place on the back of your neck, thumb pressing gently to ground the both of you to one another.

his drink sat down beside yours, your typical matcha cookie following.

this was routine at its finest.

“eat.” he simply muttered, a small kiss placed to your head before he slid into the seat next to you, as opposed to opposite you this time.

you leaned into him without thinking, breathing in his scent almost hungrily before lifting your drink to your lips, all the whilst curling into him instinctively. yejin’s eyes flickered between the two of you, a sense of candied understanding settling behind them before she let out a hum of amusement.

“i’m gonna go steal jin’s wallet. i wanna go shopping.” she hummed, already standing.

“it’s not stealing if he’d thank you for doing it.” you replied through a glance, causing her to tilt her head before nodding.

“exactly! he has to carry the bags too..”

she disappeared, walking over to the counter where he was collecting her drink, eyes already trained on her as she slid her hand into his back pocket, batting her eyelashes up at him. you watched his jaw slack, completely enamoured before nodding immediately, guiding her to the door without even bothering to spare anyone else a glance. the sight had you giggling.

you didn’t notice the shift beside you until it impacted you directly.

his hand moved from the back of your neck to your jaw, pushing it towards him gently so that you were facing him properly. his sweet girl, you looked so pretty today, he thought. what, with your hair all curled.

“you didn’t sleep.”

not a question, but rather an observation.

you blinked at him, a little dazed, before shaking your head slowly. “i did..”

this thumb pressed under your eye, amused by your lies. “no you didn’t.”

you huffed, your bratty nature to the surface now you were completely comfortable with him. “okay, fine. woke up early, that’s all.”

“what time?”

“…three.”

he watched you for a second longer than necessary, something ticking behind his eyes, before he leaned back slightly in his chair. he was observing you openly as he often did, with his attention on your gaze, momentarily dropping to your lips that he wanted nothing more than to defile, before returning up.

“next time call me, baby.”

you nibbled at your lips at his sweet response. “you were sleeping, didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“call me.” he responded again, firmer this time, as though he’d hear nothing else on the matter.

your stomach fluttered.

a beat of silence filled the air as he pulled you in close once more, pressing his lips to your forehead, looking down at the way you sipped on your drink, humming quietly about how yummy it tasted. he found you so endearing - loving how anytime he’d bring you here, you’d do the same thing, always making the cutest of noises whilst telling him he needed to try how good your drink was.

he reached for your cookie, breaking off a piece before holding it to your lips. you immediately opened up your mouth, taking a bite, cheekily swiping your tongue on his finger before innocently batting your lashes up at him.

you knew he’d get you back later.

you chewed slowly whilst he breathed in your scent, lips grazing against your neck, jaw, nose and head. it wasn’t until you had completely finished your cookie that he pulled back slowly.

“i’ve been thinking about us.” he confessed, softly.

that got your attention. you stilled slightly, as you peered up at his face, trying to determine what he meant.

“about what we’re doing after this.”

you stilled. not visibly, or in a way anyone with an untrained eye would notice, but in a way that only a man like jungkook could be well versed in. he watched you like a hawk.

“after what?” you asked almost shakily. he brushed your lip with his thumb. “after graduation, after everything.”

you watched him more carefully now.

“i’ve had multiple job offers now, different places…different cities.” he murmured gently down at you, only to watch the way your face fell slightly.

it was like he could see your heart straining.

“okay..” you whispered softly, unsure of what to say.

“we need to talk about where we’re going, baby. not taking anything until you decide where you want us to be.”

you blinked.

“what?”

“i’ll go wherever you wanna go. or you can come with me, i don’t really mind.”

your eyebrows knitted together. you weren’t confused, no - you were catching up. it was like a decision had been made for you, and you were finally privy to it.

“kookie..”

“i’m serious, y/n.” his voice remained the same tone, neither raising nor getting too excited. it was like this was fact. “i’m not building anything without you in it.”

your throat felt tight all of a sudden as you swallowed, your chest beating out of your chest at the casual sweetness he displayed for you and you alone. you felt so loved. always so, so loved.

“i don’t even know where i wanna work after this.” you confessed, voice small.

“that’s okay. we’ll figure it out.” he assured.

no pressure, no impatience. just a gentle assurance that whatever you picked, whenever you did, it would be done with him by your side.

“and if it’s somewhere shit?” you weakly asked, attempting some kind of humour despite your heart beating out of your chest.

he huffed out of amusement, easing your shoulders. “then it’ll be shit. doesn’t matter to me.”

you couldn’t stop staring at him, looking deeper and deeper into dark chocolate orbs where you could see nothing but yourself reflected both in and out. you tried to find the exaggeration, or the joke, but you came up short each time.

there wasn’t one.

“i’ll get us a good place. been saving for us.” he murmured almost absentmindedly. “somewhere big enough for you.”

your heart lurched hard.

“and then?” you asked, voice so soft it sat barely above a whisper.

the side of his lips quirked up.

“then, i marry you.”

he said it as though it was fact, as opposed to a wish for the future. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t breathe.

“..and..then?” you choked out, with large eyes.

he grinned, gentle, soft.

“then…no more birth control.” his voice melodic, soft, as though it wasn’t a warning to come. “then, we start our family together.”

jungkook’s hand slid under the table to intertwine with yours before he pulled it up to his lips, watching the way your eyes quickly filled with unshed tears ready to implode at any minute. he huffed out another breath of amusement at the sight of his girl, always so sweet and always so so teary.

the constant tug of war between you to get closer and closer all made sense in that moment.

jungkook wasn’t just your person, he was the only route home. he was everything and more, and you were his sole purpose.

you were both inevitable.

———

i love my creepy little stalkers so much, they’re such weird freaks

my silly babies, i loved writing this one, sorry it was so long omg, 25k words is crazy even for me but i hope you guys enjoy and love it so much!!

if you enjoyed this fic and want to support me in paying my ugly london rent, i have my kofi here ❤️

love you all so so bad!!!!

[yeontannieeeeee]

What Was Always Meant To Be (Jaafar Jackson x reader)

The ballroom was flooded with soft golden light, laughter echoing off the high ceilings, and the hum of music wrapping around everyone like silk. You stood beside Liam—your fiancé, the man your family had arranged for you to marry, the man who was also Jaafar’s closest friend. Your dress was elegant, your smile practiced, and every time someone congratulated you, you nodded and thanked them, your heart heavy in your chest.

You were Y/N L/N—known across the world as a top model, born into one of the oldest, most prominent old-money families. Every part of your life had been curated and planned for you, but nothing hurt more than knowing the one person you’d truly loved was standing just across the room.

Jaafar Jackson.

Three years ago, you’d been inseparable. You’d loved each other with everything you had, your worlds tangled together in laughter, late nights, and quiet moments that felt like home. Then, out of nowhere, he’d ended it. He’d told you he needed to focus completely on preparing for the role of a lifetime—portraying his uncle Michael Jackson in the upcoming biopic. He’d said he couldn’t give you the time or attention you deserved, that the training, the work, the pressure was all-consuming, and he wouldn’t let you suffer because of it. You’d begged him to stay, told him you’d support him through every second of it, but he’d been firm. He’d walked away, and you’d been left broken.

Over the last three years, you’d watched him grow, seen his dedication pay off, but you’d also had to navigate your own life—one that your parents had mapped out long before. They’d pushed you toward Liam, a kind man from an influential family, someone who’d been Jaafar’s best friend since childhood. You’d tried to fight it, but your family’s expectations were suffocating, and eventually, you’d agreed to the engagement, thinking you’d never find a love like what you’d had with Jaafar anyway.

And now, here you were, at your own engagement party, standing next to Liam, while the man who still owned your heart was just a few feet away.

Liam turned to you, smiling warmly. “Hey, I see Jaafar over there. I haven’t caught up with him in ages—let’s go say hi.”

Your stomach dropped, but you couldn’t refuse. You nodded, your palms sweating as he led you toward Jaafar. When Jaafar’s eyes met yours, his expression shifted—shock, longing, and a quiet sadness flashed across his face before he schooled it into a polite smile.

“Jaafar! Man, it’s been too long,” Liam said, clapping him on the back. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Jaafar’s voice was steady, but his eyes never left yours. “Yeah… yeah, I remember Y/N. Congratulations to both of you.”

You could barely breathe, your face heating up with embarrassment and pain. No one knew about your past—Liam didn’t, your families didn’t, none of the guests did. It was a secret you’d both buried, but standing there, it felt like every word you’d ever said to each other was written all over your faces. You mumbled a quiet “thank you” and quickly looked away, desperate to escape the intensity of his gaze.

After a while, the noise and warmth of the room became too much. You slipped away unnoticed, stepping out onto the wide balcony, the cool night air washing over your skin. You leaned against the railing, staring out at the city lights, trying to steady your breathing, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall.

You heard the door click shut behind you, and you didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was.

“Still run to the balcony when it gets too loud, huh?” Jaafar’s voice was soft, familiar, and it made your chest ache.

You turned slowly, your arms wrapped around yourself. “Old habits, I guess.”

He stepped closer, his hands in his pockets, his eyes searching yours. “You look beautiful, Y/N. More beautiful than ever.”

“Jaafar…” you started, your voice trembling. “Why did you come tonight? You know how hard this is for me.”

“I had to come,” he said quietly. “Liam’s my best friend. And… I needed to see you. Even if it killed me.”

“You left me,” you whispered, the hurt you’d carried for three years spilling out. “You walked away like I was nothing, like what we had didn’t matter. And now I’m here, engaged to your best friend, living the life my parents chose for me, and you just… show up and say things like that?”

“I did it for you,” he said urgently, stepping closer still. “When I took on this role… it was everything. I had to train for hours every day—singing, dancing, studying every detail, living and breathing Michael’s life. I knew I’d be gone, or distracted, or stressed beyond belief for years. I couldn’t ask you to wait, couldn’t ask you to put your life on hold for me. I thought… I thought letting you go was the kindest thing I could do. I thought you’d be better off without me weighing you down.”

“Well, you were wrong,” you said, tears spilling over. “I was miserable. Every single day. And now I’m stuck in a life I never wanted, with a man I care about but don’t love, all because you thought you knew what was best for me.”

Jaafar reached out, his hand hovering near your face before he gently brushed a tear away with his thumb. “I’ve regretted it every single day, Y/N. Every rehearsal, every interview, every time I saw your face in a magazine… I regretted it. I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”

Before you could say another word, he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. It was desperate, hungry, full of three years of pent-up love and longing, and for a moment, you forgot everything—where you were, who you were supposed to be marrying, everything but him. But then reality crashed back in, and you pulled away sharply, breathing hard.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you said, your voice shaky. “I’m engaged, Jaafar. This is wrong.”

You turned and hurried back inside, leaving him alone on the balcony, his heart breaking all over again.

A few days later, a day before the wedding

Sunlight filtered softly through your bedroom curtains, but you’d barely slept all night. Your mind kept replaying that kiss, every memory, every word you’d shared with Jaafar. The wedding was tomorrow—everything was arranged, everything was ready, and yet your heart felt heavier than ever.

Suddenly, your phone rang beside you. The screen showed an unknown number. Your breath hitched—you knew, deep down, exactly who it was. You answered with trembling fingers.

“Hello?”

“Y/N… it’s me.” Jaafar’s voice was quiet, raw, and it made your heart ache instantly.

“Jaafar?” you whispered, sitting up straight. “How did you?—”

“I know I shouldn’t be calling, especially not now,” he said quickly, like he was scared you’d hang up. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. Tomorrow… you’re getting married. And if I don’t say this now, I never will. Can we meet? Please? Just for a little while… at our place?”

You knew exactly where he meant—the quiet, hidden beach on the edge of the city, where you’d spent so many nights talking until dawn, where you’d shared your dreams, your laughter, and your tears. It was the one place that had always belonged just to the two of you. You hesitated only for a moment, then said, “I’ll be there.”

When you arrived, the morning sun was glinting off the waves, and the air was fresh and cool. Jaafar was standing by the water’s edge, his hands in his pockets, staring out at the sea. He turned when he heard your footsteps, and his face softened the moment he saw you.

“Why did you call me, Jaafar?” you asked softly, stopping just a few steps away from him.

“I came to say goodbye,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes glistening. “For real this time. I told myself once filming was done, once I’d finished everything I had to do, I’d be okay. But seeing you at the engagement party… knowing you’re walking down the aisle tomorrow… it broke me all over again. I had to tell you the truth before it’s too late. I love you, Y/N. I always have, and I always will. You are the love of my life, the only one I’ve ever wanted. And I know it’s too late, I know I lost my chance… but I couldn’t let you marry him without telling you that. Then I’ll walk away, and I won’t bother you ever again.”

Tears streamed down your face as you stepped closer, until you were standing right in front of him.

“You think I belong to him?” you whispered, your voice shaking. “Jaafar… this marriage… it was never my choice. My family arranged it years ago. It’s all about business, about merging names and fortunes. They never cared if I was happy. I tried to fight them—I told them I didn’t want it, that I barely even knew Liam… but they wouldn’t listen. And when you left me… I had nothing left to fight for. I agreed because I thought you didn’t care anymore. I thought I’d lost the only person I ever loved.”

You looked deep into his eyes, your heart pouring out in your next words: “But you were wrong, and so was I. Because I never stopped loving you either. Not for a single day.”

Before you could say anything else, Jaafar pulled you into his arms and kissed you—hard, deep, and full of everything he’d held back for three years. It was desperate and tender all at once, like he was trying to put every broken piece of both your hearts back together with just his lips. For a long moment, nothing else existed—no wedding, no families, no rules—just the two of you, finally where you belonged.

When you finally pulled apart, breathless and crying, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Then why are we doing this?” he whispered fiercely. “Why are you marrying him tomorrow if you don’t want to? If you love me?”

“I don’t know,” you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. “I’m scared… scared of my family, scared of what people will say, scared of ruining everything…”

“Listen to me,” he said, holding you tight, his voice steady and sure. “You are not trapped. Not as long as I’m here. We’ll face everything together. Whatever happens, whatever they say… I’m with you. I’m not letting you go again. Never.”

He drove you back home, holding your hand tightly the whole way, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. When you reached your front door, you took a deep breath, wiped your tears, and stepped inside.

Liam was sitting on the couch in the living room, waiting for you. He stood up slowly as you walked in, his expression calm but serious—like he’d been expecting this.

“Where did you go, Y/N?” he asked gently, no anger in his voice, only quiet concern.

“I… I went to see someone,” you said, standing tall, summoning every bit of courage you had. “Liam… there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Liam I-…I can’t marry you tomorrow. I can’t be your wife. Not really. You’re kind, and wonderful, and you deserve someone who loves you with their whole heart—but I don’t. I never have. This marriage… it’s just for our families, for their businesses, for their reputations. It’s unfair to you, and it’s unfair to me. And I can’t go through with it. I’m so sorry… I’m truly sorry.”

You braced yourself for anger or disappointment, but instead, Liam walked over to you and placed his hands gently on your shoulders.

“I know,” he said softly.

You blinked, shocked. “You… you know?”

“I’ve known for a while,” he admitted with a sad smile. “One of our mutual friends told me about you and Jaafar a long time ago. He said you two were each other’s greatest love, that nothing and no one could ever compare. And… I remember when our parents first brought up this marriage idea. You tried to tell them you didn’t want it, that you barely knew me… and I didn’t say anything. I just went along with it because I thought maybe we could make it work, because I cared about you, and because I knew how important it was to everyone else. But I was wrong. I didn’t stand up for you when you needed it most, and that wasn’t fair to either of us.”

He looked deep into your eyes, his voice sincere and steady. “I saw the way you looked at him at the engagement party, Y/N. And I saw the way he looked at you. Tell me the truth—do you still love him?”

You nodded, tears spilling over once again. “With all my heart.”

“Okay then,” he said, breaking into a warm, genuine smile. “That settles it. We’re calling this off. Right now.”

He pulled out his phone immediately and called both sets of parents, and before they could even start arguing or demanding explanations, he spoke firmly and clearly: “Y/N and I have decided to cancel the wedding. It was never right for either of us, and nothing you say or do is going to change our minds. This is final.”

When he hung up, you threw your arms around his neck, crying into his shoulder. “Thank you, Liam. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”

He hugged you back gently, patting your back comfortingly. “Just promise me one thing: go be happy. You both deserve it. More than anything.”

You grabbed your phone immediately and called Jaafar, your hands shaking with excitement and relief. He answered on the very first ring.

“Jaafar? It’s over. The wedding’s off. Everything’s over. I’m coming to you right now.”

You could hear the joy and disbelief in his voice as he replied, his voice thick with emotion: “I’ll be waiting. Drive safe, baby. I love you so much.”

You drove as fast as you safely could to his place, your heart racing faster than it ever had in your life. When you arrived, he was already standing at the front door, and as soon as you stepped out of the car, he ran to you, lifting you up and spinning you around, both of you laughing and crying at the same time, like you couldn’t believe this was finally real.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” he whispered against your lips, kissing you over and over again. “I thought I’d lost you forever.”

“Never,” you promised, kissing him back fiercely. “You’ll never lose me again. I’m yours. Completely and forever.”

That night, you spent hours talking—catching up on every moment you’d missed, laughing about old memories, crying about the hard times, and promising each other that nothing and no one would ever come between you again. As the hours passed, the talking softened into quiet whispers and gentle touches, turning into something deeper, more passionate, more intimate than anything you’d ever known. It was raw, tender, and full of the love you’d carried for each other for years—making up for all the lonely nights, all the missed moments, all the time you’d spent apart. Every kiss was a vow, every touch a promise, and when you finally fell asleep tangled together, safe in each other’s arms, it felt like coming home at last.

The next morning, you woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains and Jaafar watching you with the softest, most adoring smile on his face. He leaned down and kissed your forehead, then reached over to the bedside table and picked up a small, worn velvet box.

He sat up and took your hand in his, his eyes shining with emotion.

“Y/N,” he said softly. “Three years ago… the exact same day I broke up with you… I went out and bought this ring. I bought it because even then, even when I thought I was doing the right thing by letting you go, I knew deep down that you were the only person I’d ever want to spend my life with. I kept it with me everywhere I went, through all the training, all the filming, every single day… it was a reminder of what I had, what I’d lost, and what I hoped I might one day get back. I never stopped believing that maybe, just maybe, fate would bring us back together.”

He opened the box, and inside was the most beautiful ring you’d ever seen—elegant, timeless, perfect, just like the love you shared.

“Y/N L/N,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “Will you marry me? Will you let me spend the rest of my life making up for the time we lost? Will you let me love you, protect you, and cherish you for every single day of our lives? Will you be my wife?”

You burst into happy tears, nodding frantically, unable to speak for a moment before you managed to whisper, “Yes. A thousand times yes. I’ll marry you, Jaafar. Nothing would make me happier.”

He slipped the ring onto your finger and kissed you slowly, deeply, sealing the promise with all the love in his heart.

Years Later

Jaafar’s portrayal of Michael Jackson was released to global acclaim, earning him praise from critics and audiences alike, and launching his career to incredible heights. But no matter how busy he was, no matter where his work took him, you were always by his side—his biggest supporter, his safe place, the love of his life.

You eventually stepped back from modeling to focus on things that truly mattered to you, though you still worked occasionally on projects you cared about. Your families, after seeing how truly happy you were, and realizing that love was worth more than any business deal or social standing, eventually came around and accepted your relationship wholeheartedly. Liam remained a close and beloved friend to both of you, and you were even there to support him when he met the love of his life a few years later.

You and Jaafar married in a beautiful, intimate ceremony by the ocean—the same place where you’d met that morning, the place where you’d found your way back to each other

Yeontanniee: no comment hehe

[yeontannieeeeee]

Heyy there, I've been reading your content for a while and i absolutely love all of it!! I don't know if you are doing requests, but if you are I'd like to request jaafar comforting reader because she has a really stressful job (it's a desk job at an office) you can add smut if you want, it's up to you hehe👀

When The Weight Gets Too Heavy (Jaafar Jackson x reader)

The front door clicked open at half past seven, and the sound alone made Jaafar lift his head from the couch. He’d been waiting—you were never this late, and you’d sounded quiet on your last text. He stood up immediately, stepping toward the entrance, only to freeze when he saw you.

Your shoulders were hunched, your coat slipping off one arm, and your face was streaked with tears you were trying so hard to wipe away like they were something to be ashamed of. You didn’t even look up at first, just kicked off your shoes and stared at the floor, your breath hitching in shaky little gasps.

“Baby?” Jaafar’s voice was soft, but it cut through the quiet of the room. He crossed the space in two long strides, his hands reaching out but stopping just short of touching you, like he was afraid he’d break you further. “Hey… look at me. What happened?”

You shook your head, trying to turn away, but your legs felt weak, and before you knew it, you were sinking down onto the small bench by the door, burying your face in your hands. “It’s nothing… I’m fine, really—”

“Nah, don’t do that.” He knelt in front of you, gently pulling your hands away so he could see your face. His expression shifted—there was that familiar warmth, but underneath it, a sharp, determined edge, like he was ready to take on the whole world just to make sure you never felt like this again. “You come home crying, trying to act like everything’s okay? I’m not buying it. Who hurt you?”

The question was quiet, but firm. His thumbs brushed away fresh tears from your cheeks, his touch so gentle it made you sob harder. “It’s just… work,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “My boss—he kept yelling at me for things that weren’t even my fault. He made me feel like I’m useless, like nothing I do is ever good enough. I tried so hard, Jaafar… I really did.”

Jaafar’s jaw tightened. His eyes darkened, and you could see the anger rising—not at you, never at you, but at whoever had dared to make you feel small. He stood up slowly, pulling you into his arms, holding you so tight it felt like he was trying to merge his strength with yours. His hand stroked the back of your head, pressing your face against his chest so you could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with that protective fire you knew so well. “You are the most hardworking, brilliant, amazing person I know. Everything you do—you put your whole heart into it, and anyone who can’t see that is blind. They don’t deserve you. That job? It’s just a place—it doesn’t get to define you, and it sure as hell doesn’t get to make you cry like this.”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his fingers tilting your chin up so you couldn’t look away. “If they don’t appreciate you, that’s their loss. Not yours. And if they ever speak to you like that again—if anyone ever speaks to you like that again—you tell me. You hear me? I don’t care who it is.”

His voice was fierce, unapologetic, but his thumb was still brushing softly over your cheek, wiping away the last of your tears. Slowly, the tight knot in your chest began to loosen. You leaned into his touch, letting his words sink in, letting yourself believe them because he believed them so fiercely.

“I just felt so… helpless,” you whispered.

“I know, baby. I know.” He kissed your forehead, then your nose, then your lips—soft, sweet kisses that felt like safety. “But you’re not helpless. You’ve got me. Always. Whatever you need—whether it’s to quit, to yell, to cry, or just to sit here and let me remind you how incredible you are—I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere, and I’m not letting anyone hurt you like this again.”

He lifted you up easily, carrying you to the couch and settling you into his lap, wrapping a blanket around you like a shield. He didn’t rush you to stop crying, didn’t tell you to cheer up. He just held you, let you let it all out, whispered quiet reassurances against your hair, and every so often, muttered a sharp comment about how ridiculous those people at your job were, making you let out a small, shaky laugh.

As the night went on, the tears dried, and the fear and doubt began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his arms and the certainty of his love. He stayed true to his word—he listened, he comforted, and he promised that no matter what happened, you never had to face anything alone.

And when you fell asleep later, curled up against him, safe and loved, Jaafar sat there a little longer, staring into the dark, his mind already turning over ways to make sure you never felt this way again. He’d protect you, always—with every bit of strength he had.

Because you were his heart. And no one got to hurt his heart and get away with it.

Yeontanniee; hiii so I’m not really good at doing smut and still working it out hehe so hope this is okay for you, btw thank you for requesting cause I have been waiting for someone to request hahaha

[yeontannieeeeee]

Bet On Us (Jaafar as Michael Jackson x reader) part 2 finale

True to his word, Michael called you bright and early the very next morning. Your heart practically leaped into your throat the moment you heard your phone ring, and when you picked it up, that familiar soft, melodic voice came through the line instantly, making you smile before he’d even finished saying hello.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said warmly, a gentle smile evident in his tone. “I hope I didn’t wake you? I’ve been wanting to call since the moment I left you last night.”

You laughed softly, settling back against the wall. “Good morning, Michael! No, you didn’t wake me—don’t worry. I’ve actually been up for a while now, honestly… I was kind of hoping you’d call sooner or later.”

He chuckled shyly on the other end, the sound light and happy. “I told you I would. I never break my promises, especially not important ones. How are you feeling today? Did you get home safe? I’ve been thinking about you non-stop.”

“I’m doing great, thank you,” you told him, though you had to raise your voice slightly over the faint noise in the background. “And yes, I got home perfectly safe—don’t worry about me. I’m actually… well, I’m currently on a photoshoot right now, believe it or not! We’re doing a big spread for a major fashion magazine, but it’s my break right now, so I’ve got plenty of time to talk to you. I’m so glad you called, Michael. Honestly.”

“You’re on a photoshoot?” he asked, sounding fascinated. “Wow… you really never stop, do you? But I’m really glad I caught you during your break. I didn’t want to disturb you while you were working. But I just… I just needed to hear your voice. It makes me happy.”

You could feel your cheeks flushing even over the phone. “You’re so sweet, Michael. Hearing your voice makes me happy too, believe me. But don’t worry about disturbing me—talking to you is definitely the highlight of my day so far. Even better than the shoot!”

You spoke for nearly the whole hour-long break, laughing and chatting easily just like you had the night before. He asked you dozens of questions about the photoshoot—what kind of outfits you were wearing, what the set looked like, how you managed to stay looking perfect even after hours of work—and listened intently to every single word you said. In return, he told you little stories about growing up, about touring, about how much winning those Grammys really meant to him… but he kept coming back to you, telling you again and again how beautiful you were, how smart, how special you felt to him. By the time your break ended and you had to go back to work, your head was spinning and your heart was fluttering like crazy, and you found yourself counting down the minutes until you’d see him again.

A few days later, the day of your date finally arrived. Michael had told you simply to dress comfortably and casually, but you’d honestly assumed that meant you were going out for a nice dinner somewhere elegant—after all, he was Michael Jackson, the King of Pop, and you’d pictured something fancy, candlelit, romantic, the kind of date you’d seen in movies. You’d decided on a cute, flowy pastel dress that fell just above your knees, soft and light with little frills along the hem, paired with your favourite comfortable yet pretty ballet flats—practical enough to walk in but still sweet and feminine, exactly the right mix of pretty and easygoing. When the sleek black car pulled up outside your place, you smoothed down your dress, adjusted your shoes, and practically bounced down the steps to meet him.

Michael was waiting by the open car door, looking absolutely breathtaking in a casual white shirt, light trousers, and his signature fedora, smiling that soft, boyish smile that made your knees weak. His eyes immediately drifted down to take in your outfit, lingering fondly on your little dress and delicate flats, before lighting up completely. He helped you gently into the back seat before sliding in right beside you. Up front, his trusted driver was already seated behind the wheel, quiet and professional, while one of his bodyguards sat in the passenger seat—there to ensure privacy and safety, but completely giving you both space, acting like they weren’t even there.

“You look absolutely adorable, Y/N,” he told you softly, reaching over to brush a strand of hair away from your face, his gaze warm and adoring as he looked you over. “That dress… and those little shoes… you look like a princess. So beautiful, so sweet… you take my breath away.”

You blushed furiously, glancing down at your outfit with a happy little smile. “Thank you, Michael! I wasn’t sure what to wear exactly, but I wanted something nice but comfortable… and I’m glad you like it. You look pretty amazing yourself, you know. I’m really looking forward to dinner tonight—where are we going, by the way? You’ve been keeping it a secret!”

Michael grinned mischievously, leaning in closer, his voice low and excited. “Oh, it’s definitely a secret… but let’s just say dinner is going to be part of the fun, not the whole thing. Just you wait and see, okay? I promise you’re going to love it.”

You tried to guess where you were going as you rode along, but Michael skillfully changed the subject every time you asked, talking about music, about movies, about whatever popped into his head, keeping you smiling and laughing the whole way. It was only when you recognised the large, iconic gates coming into view that your jaw dropped completely, your eyes going wide in shock and delight.

“Michael…” you breathed out, turning to him in disbelief. “Are we… are we going to Disneyland?”

He beamed at you, his face lighting up with pure joy and excitement, looking just like an excited child himself. “Surprise! That’s exactly where we’re going. I told you I had other plans! I know you thought we were just going for dinner… but I wanted this date to be special. I wanted us to have fun, to be able to laugh and run around and just be us, without all the fancy stuff or the crowds or the cameras. Disneyland is my favourite place in the whole world—it feels like magic here, like nothing bad can ever happen. And I wanted to share that magic with you.”

You couldn’t help it—you let out a happy little squeal, reaching over to squeeze his arm tightly. “Michael, this is the most amazing thing anyone has ever done for me! I absolutely love it! This is so much better than dinner—thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He laughed happily as the car came to a stop. The bodyguard stepped out first to check the area and open the door for you both, keeping a low profile but staying close enough to ensure no one disturbed you, while the driver waited patiently with the car. Michael jumped out, helping you out gently, his hand warm and firm in yours. He glanced quickly down at your feet and smiled softly. “Good choice with the shoes—we’ve got a lot of walking to do, and lots of running around too!”

“I’m ready!” you grinned, squeezing his hand.

And you were. It was honestly the most magical, perfect day you’d ever experienced. Michael seemed to know every inch of the park like the back of his hand, leading you around with confident strides, his hand firmly clasped in yours the whole time. He took you on all his favourite rides—from the thrilling drops of Space Mountain and Big Thunder Mountain Railroad to the gentle, dreamy boat ride of It’s a Small World. On every single ride, he laughed louder than anyone else, his eyes sparkling with pure delight, and he always made sure you were safe and happy, holding your hand tight whenever you seemed nervous or squeezing your shoulder whenever you screamed with excitement. He even teased you gently when your dress fluttered in the breeze or you hopped happily along in your ballet flats, calling you his “pretty little fairy”. His bodyguard always stayed at a respectful distance, blending into the background but keeping watch, letting you and Michael enjoy every moment completely undisturbed.

Between rides, you wandered through the colourful streets, playing all the little carnival-style games set up along the way. Michael was surprisingly competitive, but in the sweetest, funniest way possible—he tried his absolute hardest to win you every single prize, from giant fluffy teddy bears to colourful balloons, cheering so loudly whenever he won that people turned to look and smile at the two of you. Even when he lost, he just laughed it off and immediately dragged you to the next one, determined to win you something eventually.

By mid-afternoon, you were both getting hungry, just as Michael had promised. He led you to one of the cozier, quieter restaurants inside the park, where you shared delicious burgers, crispy fries, and huge ice cream sundaes, talking and laughing between bites like you’d known each other your whole lives. Even while you ate, Michael never stopped looking at you—he watched the way you licked ice cream off your fingers with that soft, adoring look in his eyes, listened intently to every story you told him, and reached across the table constantly just to touch your hand or brush your hair back gently. He even complimented your dress again, telling you how pretty you looked in it, how the colour suited you perfectly, and how you glowed from within.

As the sun began to set and the lights of the park started twinkling on one by one, the whole place turned even more beautiful, glowing like something out of a fairytale. You walked hand-in-hand through the crowds, stopping to watch the colourful parade pass by, Michael humming along quietly to every single song, his fingers tangled warmly with yours. You were glad of your ballet flats now—your feet didn’t hurt at all, even after walking and dancing around for hours, and Michael kept commenting on how cute they looked whenever he caught a glimpse of them as you walked.

“This has been the best day of my entire life, Michael,” you told him softly as you leaned against his shoulder, watching the fireworks light up the sky in brilliant bursts of colour later that evening. “Seriously. I never thought I’d have this much fun, or feel this happy… thank you so much. This is perfect.”

Michael wrapped his arm tightly around your waist, pulling you close against his side, resting his cheek gently against the top of your head. His voice was quiet and sincere, barely audible over the sound of the crowd and the music, but it made your heart swell completely.

“No, thank you, Y/N,” he whispered. “Winning Grammys, selling millions of records, performing for thousands of people… none of that compares to this. Being here with you, making you smile, hearing you laugh… this is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re magic, Y/N. You look beautiful, you act beautiful, everything about you is beautiful… just like this place, but even better. And I never want this feeling to end.”

You tilted your head up to look at him, and in the bright reflection of the fireworks, you saw so much love and tenderness shining in his dark eyes it almost took your breath away. You reached up, cupping his face gently in your hands, and smiled softly.

“It doesn’t have to end, Michael,” you whispered back. “Not ever.”

Michael beamed—the brightest, happiest smile you’d ever seen—before he leaned down slowly and pressed his lips softly against yours, right there in the middle of the magic, surrounded by lights and music and happiness. It was gentle, sweet, and absolutely perfect, just like him. And as the fireworks exploded above you, lighting up the sky in brilliant colours, you both knew that this was only the very beginning of something beautiful—something magical, something that would last forever.

Yeontannieee: this is it ladies, part 2

[yeontannieeeeee]

Bet On Us (Jaafar as Michael Jackson x reader) part 1

The 26th Annual Grammy Awards was the biggest night in music, and the atmosphere inside the Shrine Auditorium was electric. Flashbulbs popped continuously, cameras whirred, and the room was filled with the biggest names in the entertainment industry. You were no stranger to this kind of spotlight—being the highest-paid model in the world meant you were used to cameras following your every move, your face on billboards and magazine covers globally, and invitations to every major event. Tonight was no different; you’d received a personal invitation to attend the prestigious ceremony as a special guest, given your massive global influence and status in the fashion and entertainment world, and you’d jumped at the chance to be part of such an iconic night. You looked stunning tonight, wearing an elegant floor-length gown that turned heads the moment you walked in, but right now, your attention was fully on the two people seated next to you.

Originally, you’d been assigned a seat just one spot away from Michael Jackson — the King of Pop himself — who was sitting right in the centre of your row. To his right sat your best friend, the gorgeous and charming Brooke Shields, who you’d known for years. To his left was an empty chair that belonged to another guest who unfortunately couldn’t make it to the event at the last minute, while you were initially placed one seat further away from him. Michael was the man of the hour — everyone knew it. His Thriller album had taken the world by storm, breaking records and redefining music, and tonight he was nominated for a historic number of awards. Brooke had told you weeks ago that Michael was her date for the evening, but she’d also been very clear: “We’re just friends, Y/N. The absolute best of friends, but nothing more. He’s like a brother to me, honestly.” You’d believed her instantly — Brooke was open and honest with you about everything, and the way they interacted was warm, playful, and completely platonic. She also knew about your tiny, long-held crush on him — you’d confessed it to her ages ago, blushing furiously as you told her how much you admired him, not just as the incredible superstar he was, but as the kind, gentle soul she’d told you so much about. Brooke had found it absolutely adorable, constantly teasing you gently about it and promising that one day, she’d make sure the two of you met properly. So when she noticed the empty seat right next to Michael and realised you were still sitting one spot away, she immediately grabbed the chance. She spoke quickly to one of the event managers nearby, explaining the situation and asking if you could move into that vacant seat. Before you knew it, she was turning back to you with a triumphant, mischievous little grin on her face — and just like that, you were now sitting right beside him, with Michael perfectly positioned right in the middle between the two of you.

Michael had looked up as you settled into the chair beside him, his large dark eyes widening just slightly as he saw you. He was dressed impeccably in his signature military-style jacket with gold detailing, his hair perfectly styled, and that famous sparkle in his gaze—but right now, it looked like he’d just seen something he couldn’t quite believe.

“Michael,” Brooke said brightly, turning toward him with a grin, “I want you to meet my very best friend, Y/N L/N. You definitely know who she is—face on every magazine cover in existence, the highest-paid model in the world, and the kindest soul you’ll ever meet. Y/N, this is Michael.”

“It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, Michael,” you said softly, offering him a warm smile and extending your hand. “Brooke talks about you all the time. She tells me you’re pretty amazing.”

Michael stared at you for a split second longer than necessary, his long lashes fluttering, before he gently took your hand in his. His skin was soft, his touch gentle, and his hand felt warm against yours. He didn’t shake it right away—he just held it lightly, his eyes searching yours, looking completely awestruck.

“Y/N…” he repeated your name slowly, like he was testing how it sounded on his tongue, his voice soft and melodic. “I… I know who you are. Everyone knows who you are. You’re even more beautiful in person than in the photographs. I didn’t think that was possible, but… you are.”

You felt your cheeks heat up instantly, a surprised little laugh escaping your lips. “Thank you, Michael. That is honestly the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. And look who’s talking—you look incredible tonight. You always do.”

Brooke watched the two of you with a knowing smirk, before she leaned back comfortably in her seat, sipping her drink and letting you two get acquainted. And surprisingly, conversation flowed easily between you. Michael was quiet at first, a little shy, but once he relaxed, he was funny, thoughtful, and endlessly interesting. He asked you about your work, about travelling, about what you loved most about modelling. You asked him about making Thriller, about performing, about what it felt like to have the whole world singing his songs.

You quickly realised why Brooke loved him so much—he was genuine, kind, and so incredibly sweet. And Michael? He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off you. Whenever you spoke, he leaned in closer, hanging onto every word, his gaze never leaving your face. He watched the way you laughed, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear. He looked completely starstruck, like he couldn’t quite believe he was sitting next to you, talking to you, making you smile.

After a while, Brooke had to step away briefly to say hello to someone she knew a few rows over, leaving just the two of you alone. That’s when Michael leaned in even closer, lowering his voice just slightly, a playful, mischievous glint appearing in his dark eyes.

“You know,” he began, a small smirk tugging at his lips, “tonight… they say I’m nominated for twelve awards. Twelve! Can you believe that?”

Your eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. “Twelve? Michael, that’s incredible! That’s unheard of. You’re definitely going to win a lot of them tonight—I’d put money on it.”

He chuckled softly, tapping his fingers lightly against his knee. “Well… actually, I was thinking about making a little bet with you. Just for fun.”

“A bet?” you asked, grinning at his enthusiasm. “Okay, I’m listening. What kind of bet?”

He leaned even closer, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours, his voice dropping to a warm, whispery tone that sent shivers down your spine. “If… when I win more than five awards tonight… you have to give me your number. And… you have to let me take you out on a date. Proper dinner, nice place, just us.”

You blinked at him, surprised and delighted, your heart skipping a beat. He looked so confident yet so nervous at the same time, biting his lip slightly as he waited for your answer.

“And…” you teased him gently, tilting your head, “what happens if you win less than five?”

Michael threw his head back and laughed—a bright, joyful sound. “Then… I’ll leave you alone! Well… no, I won’t, but I won’t ask for your number! I promise. But Y/N… I will win more than five. I know it.”

You pretended to think about it for a moment, watching the hope and excitement dancing in his eyes, before you extended your hand toward him again, shaking his hand firmly.

“Deal, Michael Jackson. If you win more than five Grammys tonight… you get my number, and you get your date. But fair warning—I expect you to work for it.”

He squeezed your hand tightly, his smile dazzling, lighting up his whole face. “Oh, I intend to. You won’t regret this bet, I promise you.”

Just then, Brooke returned to her seat, raising an eyebrow at the way you were holding hands. “What did I miss?”

“Just a little wager,” Michael said, never taking his eyes off you, his smile growing wider. “A very important wager.”

And then the ceremony began in earnest.

It wasn’t long before his name was called. The presenter stepped to the microphone and announced: “And the Grammy for Best Engineered Album, Non-Classical goes to… Thriller! Michael Jackson!”

The room erupted in applause. Michael stood up, adjusting his jacket, but before he walked up the stage, he glanced down at you, shooting you a quick, cheeky wink, a huge grin on his face. As he walked onto the stage, accepted the award, and gave his speech, he kept looking straight toward your section, his eyes finding yours instantly. He thanked the producers, the musicians, his family… and right at the end, he looked directly at you and said, “And thank you… to someone very special sitting right there, for giving me extra luck tonight.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt yourself blushing furiously as Brooke nudged you playfully in the ribs.

And then it happened again. And again. And again.

Best Pop Vocal Performance, Male: Michael Jackson. He bounded up the stairs, beaming, and once again, before he even spoke, his eyes scanned the room until they landed on you. He held the trophy up slightly toward you like it was a gift just for you.

Best R&B Vocal Performance, Male: Michael Jackson. This time, he blew a quick, subtle kiss in your direction, hidden by his hand as he thanked everyone, his smile bright and proud.

Best Rhythm & Blues Song: Michael Jackson. He winked at you from the stage, biting back a laugh when he saw you shaking your head in disbelief, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt.

Album of the Year: Michael Jackson. The biggest award of the night. When his name was announced, the crowd practically roared. He walked slowly to the microphone, holding the golden gramophone high, his eyes shining with emotion and happiness. He spoke eloquently, passionately, his voice ringing clearly through the auditorium… but throughout the entire speech, no matter where he looked or who he thanked, his gaze always drifted back to you. Like you were his anchor, like you were the reason he was smiling so broadly, like you were the only person in the whole room that mattered.

By the time the night was over, Michael Jackson had won an incredible, history-making eight awards. Eight.

When he finally returned to his seat, clutching his armful of golden gramophones, he was glowing—exhausted but absolutely radiant. He sat down, immediately turning toward you, his chest heaving slightly with excitement, his eyes sparkling triumphantly.

“Eight,” he whispered breathlessly, holding up eight fingers, his grin huge and boyish. “Eight awards, Y/N. I believe… I believe I won our bet.”

Brooke looked between the two of you, shaking her head with laughter. “I knew it! I knew the moment you two met something was going to happen.”

You looked at Michael—at his beautiful smile, his shining eyes, the pure happiness radiating from him—and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart feeling light and full. You reached into your small purse, pulled out a pen, and gently took his hand, turning it over to write your number neatly on his palm. You traced the numbers slowly with the pen, and Michael watched every movement like it was the most magical thing he’d ever seen.

“There,” you whispered softly, finishing with a little heart at the end. “You won fair and square, Michael. You get your number… and you definitely get your date.”

He looked down at the numbers written on his hand like they were precious treasure, before he looked back up at you, his expression softening into something incredibly tender and sincere.

“I’m going to call you tomorrow morning,” he promised quietly, leaning in so only you could hear. “And I’m going to take you on the best date you’ve ever been on. You have no idea how happy I am right now, Y/N. Winning all these awards… it’s amazing. But honestly? Getting your number? That’s the best prize I’ve ever won.”

You laughed softly, your fingers brushing lightly against his hand. “I can’t wait, Michael. I really can’t.”

As the ceremony ended and people began to leave, Michael walked out of the auditorium with you and Brooke, his arm resting lightly near yours, never straying too far away. He carried his trophies proudly, but he made sure he never let go of your hand for long.

And as the cameras flashed outside, capturing the three of you laughing and chatting happily, Michael Jackson—the King of Pop, the biggest star in the world—had eyes for only one person. You. And he knew, right then and there, that the Grammy Awards night of 1984 wasn’t just the night he made history… it was the night he met the love of his life.

Yeontannieee: this is also inspired by “seat filler” by @anonymouspyt credits to you my love, I love love love your fanfic😩🫰🏻

[yeontannieeeeee]

Hearts in the Spotlight (jaafar as michael jackson x reader)

The studio lights were blindingly bright, casting a warm golden glow over everything, but you barely even blinked. You were used to this—after all, you’d been in the public eye for years, and winning the Oscar for Best Actress just last year had only made the attention more intense. But today felt completely different. Today, sitting right beside you on the plush white sofa, close enough that your knees were touching, was Michael Jackson. The King of Pop. The man who had captured the hearts of millions around the world—and the man who had captured yours, completely and utterly.

He looked absolutely breathtaking in his signature Bad style: fitted black leather jacket adorned with silver buckles and zippers, matching black trousers that hugged his frame perfectly, his hair sleek and sharp, and that iconic sparkling silver glove on his left hand. He looked confident, edgy, and so incredibly handsome—but when he turned his dark, warm eyes toward you, that familiar soft, shy smile tugging at his lips, you saw the man only you knew: gentle, sensitive, endlessly kind, and completely yours.

For months, rumours had been swirling in the press about the two of you. You’d been spotted together at award shows, charity galas, private events, but you’d always kept your relationship carefully guarded, choosing to protect the beautiful thing you shared from the often cruel and invasive spotlight. But today, you’d decided together that it was time. Today, during this highly anticipated joint interview, you were finally going to tell the world.

The interviewer, a respected and well-loved host named David, leaned forward with a warm smile, looking between the two of you with genuine interest.

“It is such an incredible privilege to have both of you here today,” David began, his voice steady and enthusiastic. “Two of the brightest stars in the entertainment industry—one, the undisputed King of Pop, breaking records and boundaries like no one before him; the other, our award-winning leading lady, whose performances have touched hearts around the world. You have both achieved so much, reached heights many can only dream of… but today, I want to talk about the journey. The highs, the lows, everything in between. Michael, let’s start with you—you’ve been in this industry since you were just a little boy. Looking back at everything you’ve experienced, what has been the hardest part for you?”

Michael shifted slightly in his seat, his expression thoughtful and sincere as he leaned into the microphone. His voice was soft, melodic, but held a quiet strength as he spoke.

“You know… being in this industry, it’s a beautiful thing, truly. I get to do what I love every single day, I get to create, to perform, to bring joy to people all over the world—and I am so grateful for that. But… it can be hard, too. Especially starting out so young. I didn’t have a normal childhood. I was working before I even knew what it meant to be a kid. And as I got older, as my career grew, the pressure grew too. People watch your every move, they judge you, they speculate, they make up stories that aren’t true. Sometimes it feels like people think because you’re successful, because you’re known all over the world, that you don’t have feelings, that you don’t get hurt. But I do. I feel everything so deeply. There have been times where I felt so alone, where I felt like nobody really saw me, they only saw what I represented. It can be a lonely place, this industry.”

He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting toward you, his eyes softening instantly, a small, tender smile touching his lips.

“But… it’s not lonely anymore. And that means more than I can ever say.”

David nodded slowly, clearly moved by his words, before turning his attention to you. “Y/N, you’ve experienced similar things, haven’t you? You started acting young too, and since winning your Oscar, your life has changed in so many ways. What has your experience been like navigating this world?”

You took a slow breath, turning slightly so you were facing the interviewer, though your hand instinctively moved to rest gently on Michael’s arm—a touch that was as natural to you as breathing.

“Michael said it perfectly. It really is a double-edged sword. This industry gives you the most amazing opportunities, the chance to do what you love, to tell stories that matter, to connect with people in the most beautiful ways… but it takes so much, too. It takes your privacy, your sense of normalcy, sometimes even your peace of mind. When I won the Oscar, it was the greatest moment of my career, a dream come true… but suddenly, everything changed. People felt like they knew me, like they had a right to know everything about me. There were days where I felt like I was performing even when the cameras were off, like I had to be perfect all the time, like I couldn’t make mistakes or show weakness. I’ve dealt with criticism, with rumours, with people trying to put me in a box or tell me who I should be. And honestly? There were times I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle it anymore. It’s exhausting, constantly being looked at, constantly being judged.”

You squeezed Michael’s arm gently, and he immediately covered your hand with his gloved one, his fingers wrapping around yours in a firm, reassuring hold.

“But just like Michael said… everything changed when I met him. Suddenly, there was someone who understood exactly what I was going through, someone who knew what it felt like to have the whole world watching, someone who didn’t just see the actress or the award winner—someone who just saw me. Michael is the kindest, most genuine soul I have ever met. He gets it. He gets the pressure, the loneliness, the highs and the lows. And having him by my side? It makes everything easier. It makes the hard days bearable, and the good days wonderful.”

David smiled knowingly, his eyes lighting up with curiosity. “You know, over the past year or so, there has been so much speculation about the nature of your relationship. You’ve been seen together at events, supporting each other, spending time together privately… and hearing you two speak like this, with such obvious love and admiration… I think it’s safe to say that the rumours we’ve been hearing might actually be true?”

The room went quiet, almost holding its breath, as all eyes turned to the two of you. Michael looked at you, his dark eyes searching yours, silently asking if you were ready. You nodded, smiling softly at him, and he turned back to the interviewer, his posture straightening slightly, his expression open and honest.

“Yes,” Michael said, his voice clear and steady, ringing through the quiet studio. “The rumours are true. Y/N and I… we are together. We have been for quite some time now, actually.”

A collective murmur rippled through the room, and you could see the surprise and delight on everyone’s faces, but you barely noticed—you were too busy looking at Michael, your heart swelling with love and pride.

“We kept it private for a long time,” Michael continued, squeezing your hand as he spoke. “Because… well, you heard what we said. This industry can be hard. People can be unkind, they can speculate, they can try to twist things. And this… what we have… it’s so precious to us. It’s something beautiful, something that makes us happy, something that gives us peace in a world that is often so chaotic. We wanted to protect it. We wanted to make sure that what we had was real, that it was strong, before we brought it into the spotlight. But… we realised that hiding it also meant hiding a huge part of our happiness. And we didn’t want to do that anymore. Y/N is the love of my life. She makes me happier than I ever thought possible. She understands me like nobody else ever has. She supports me, she loves me, she sees me… and I love her more than words can say. I want the world to know that. I want everyone to know how lucky I am.

Tears pricked at your eyes as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion, and you turned to face David, your own voice soft but sure as you spoke.

“Michael is everything to me. He is the most incredible man I have ever known. He is talented, yes, but more importantly, he is kind, and gentle, and loyal, and so full of love. He has been through so much in his life, and yet he still has the biggest heart of anyone I know. Being with him is the greatest blessing of my life. We support each other, we lift each other up, we understand each other in a way that nobody else ever could. We know how hard this world can be, but we also know that as long as we have each other, we can handle anything. We didn’t want to hide anymore. We are proud of what we have, we are proud of each other, and we are so happy. And we wanted to share that happiness with everyone.”

David was beaming, clearly touched by your words, as he leaned forward. “That is absolutely beautiful. Truly. You two are such an inspiration—both individually, and now together. It takes a lot of courage to be this open, especially given the lives you lead, but hearing you speak, it’s so clear that what you have is rare and special. Michael, with your new album Bad coming out, and Y/N with your upcoming film—what does having each other mean for your work, moving forward?”

Michael smiled, his face lighting up with that infectious energy everyone knew and loved. “Everything. Y/N inspires me every single day. When I’m writing music, when I’m dancing, when I’m creating… she is always in my mind. She encourages me to take risks, to be brave, to trust myself. She believes in me even when I don’t believe in myself. And I try to do the same for her. We are each other’s biggest fans, always. Knowing I have her love and her support behind me? It makes me feel like I can do anything. Like I can conquer the world.”

“It’s exactly the same for me,” you added, grinning at him. “Michael pushes me to be better, to dig deeper, to never settle for less than my best. He is the most dedicated artist I know, and watching him work, watching the passion and heart he puts into everything he does… it inspires me so much. He makes me want to be the best version of myself. And knowing that at the end of the day, no matter what happens, good or bad, I get to come home to him? There is no better feeling in the world.”

For the rest of the interview, the conversation flowed easily, moving between stories of your careers, funny moments you’d shared, the way you supported each other through difficult times, and your hopes for the future. Michael was charming, thoughtful, occasionally shy, but always so incredibly open and affectionate toward you—often glancing over to make sure you were okay, smiling whenever you spoke, reaching for your hand whenever he could. You laughed together, you spoke passionately together, and the love between you was so obvious, so tangible, that it felt like it filled the whole room.

When the interview finally came to an end, David thanked you both warmly, his eyes shining. “Thank you. Thank you for being so honest, so open, for sharing this beautiful news with us today. I think I speak for everyone when I say—we couldn’t be happier for you both. You truly are a match made in heaven, and we wish you nothing but love and happiness, always.”

As the cameras stopped rolling and the lights dimmed, Michael immediately turned to you, his eyes sparkling with joy and relief. He reached out, cupping your face gently in his hands, his touch soft and warm.

“Did we do okay?” he asked softly, a little nervousness still lingering in his voice.

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cover his hands with yours, pressing a kiss to his palm. “We did perfect, Michael. It feels amazing, doesn’t it? Not having to hide anymore.”

He nodded, his face breaking into the brightest, happiest smile you’d ever seen, before he pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“It feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders,” he murmured against your skin. “Now everyone knows you’re mine. And I’m yours. I’ve been waiting so long to say that.”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, running your fingers softly through his curls. “And now the whole world knows. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love you, Michael. So much.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning down to press a soft, sweet kiss to your lips—a kiss that was gentle, sincere, and completely yours. “Forever and always.”

And as you walked out of the studio hand-in-hand, waving to the crew and the fans waiting outside, you knew that while the industry might be tough, and the spotlight might be bright, you had everything you needed right there beside you. You had each other—and that was more than enough.

Yeontanniee: happy reading ladies!😘

[yeontannieeeeee]

Breaking Free & Finding Home (jaafar jackson x reader)

You and Jaafar had become inseparable over the last few years — professionally and personally. This was your fourth movie together, and honestly? It felt like magic every single time. From the very first day of filming that first project years ago, there was something between you — an instant spark, an understanding, a connection that went way beyond just co-stars. You’d liked him from the moment you met, and he’d felt exactly the same way about you. But life had a funny way of messing things up — right around the time you realised your feelings were getting serious, Jaafar got engaged. To a woman who… well, she was never right for him. Everyone saw it, everyone knew it — except maybe Jaafar at first. She was controlling, manipulative, incredibly toxic — always telling him what to do, who to talk to, how to act, making him feel small and unworthy, constantly putting him down. Over time, Jaafar had changed — the bright, happy, carefree boy you’d first met had slowly faded, replaced by someone quiet, stressed, always looking over his shoulder, never quite smiling with his whole heart anymore. He wasn’t happy. Everyone knew it, and most importantly, he knew it too — but he felt trapped, like he couldn’t get out, like he’d made his bed and had to lie in it.

But through all of that, you were his constant. You were the one person he could talk to, the one person who never judged him, the one person who made him feel like himself again whenever you were together. And the feelings between you? They’d only grown stronger, deeper, more impossible to ignore with every single movie, every single scene, every single quiet moment you shared.

Now, filming for your fourth movie together was coming to an end. It was the last night of shooting, and the whole cast and crew decided to go all out and celebrate at one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. The music was loud, the lights were flashing, everyone was laughing, drinking, dancing — having the time of their lives. But you and Jaafar? Neither of you were big drinkers, and tonight especially, neither of you really felt like losing control. You both nursed the same drink for hours, standing close to each other, talking quietly, laughing softly, completely in your own little bubble away from the chaos around you. You could feel it all night — the tension thick enough to cut with a knife, the way his eyes lingered on yours just a little too long, the way his hand would brush against yours like he couldn’t help it, the way he looked at you like he wanted to say a thousand things but couldn’t find the words.

When the night started winding down and everyone began heading home, Jaafar turned to you, his voice low and gentle.

“Hey… let me give you a ride home, yeah? It’s late, and I’d feel better knowing you got back safe.”

You nodded softly, smiling at him. “Yeah… I’d like that. Thanks, Jaafar.”

The ride back to your place was quiet — too quiet. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it was heavy, charged with everything unsaid, everything you both felt, everything you both wanted but couldn’t have. You could feel his eyes on you every so often when he thought you wouldn’t notice, and your heart was hammering against your ribs so loud you were sure he could hear it. Neither of you spoke a single word the whole way, but the air between you practically sizzled.

When he pulled into the private parking lot of your luxury apartment building, he turned off the engine, and silence settled over the car again — deep, thick, full of emotion. You sat there for a moment, staring straight ahead, not wanting to leave, not wanting the night to end, but knowing you probably should.

You turned to him softly, breaking the quiet.

“Thank you… for the ride. And for tonight. It was really nice.” You reached for the door handle, ready to step out.

But before you could pull it open, his hand shot out, gently wrapping around your wrist to stop you. His touch was warm, firm, and sent shivers running all the way up your arm. You turned back to look at him, and his expression was torn — pained, desperate, like he was fighting a war inside his own head. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something — something big, something important — but then he just closed it again, shaking his head slowly, looking away, his grip loosening but not letting go completely.

“…Never mind,” he whispered, voice thick. “Forget it.”

Silence stretched between you again, long and aching, and your heart broke a little for him — for the pain he was carrying, for the words he couldn’t say, for the love you both felt but couldn’t act on.

You looked at him, really looked at him, and before you could overthink it, you spoke softly.

“…Do you want to come up? Have some tea? It’s late, and… I don’t really feel like being alone right now. And you look like you could use it too.”

He looked back at you, his eyes widening slightly, hope flickering in them like a candle in the dark. He hesitated for only a second before nodding, almost eagerly.

“Yeah… yeah, I’d really like that. Thank you, Y/N.”

You both stepped out of the car and headed up to your penthouse. The second he stepped inside, Jaafar stopped, looking around slowly, and let out a long, shaky breath — like he’d just taken off a heavy coat he’d been wearing for years.

“Wow…” he murmured softly, a small, genuine smile tugging at his lips. “It feels… it feels so peaceful here. So warm. It feels like home.”

Your heart swelled hearing him say that, and you smiled softly at him.

“Make yourself comfortable. Sit wherever you want — I’ll just go make the tea. Won’t be a minute.”

You disappeared into the kitchen, your mind racing a mile a minute, your hands trembling slightly as you prepared everything. You knew inviting him in was risky — you knew things could change forever tonight — but you couldn’t help it. You loved him. You’d loved him for years, and seeing him so unhappy, so trapped, broke your heart every single day.

When you walked back into the living room with the mugs, Jaafar was sitting on the large plush sofa, leaning back, his head tilted slightly up, his eyes closed, looking more relaxed than you’d seen him in months. He opened his eyes when he heard you come in, and sat up straight, making space for you beside him.

You sat down close to him — not touching, but close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him — and handed him his mug. For a little while, you just sat there, sipping your tea, talking about light things — the movie, the cast, funny memories from filming — but eventually, the conversation slowed down, and the heavy silence settled again.

Jaafar put his mug down on the table, turning his whole body toward you, his expression serious, vulnerable, raw. He looked at you for the longest time, like he was memorising your face, like he was gathering every ounce of courage he had.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice quiet but steady. “I need to tell you something. Something I’ve wanted to say for such a long time, but I never had the guts to… until now.”

You put your own mug down, turning to face him fully, your heart pounding wildly in your chest. “What is it, Jaafar? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

He let out a long, shaky sigh, running a hand through his hair, looking down at his hands for a moment before lifting his eyes to yours again — and there were tears glistening in them.

“I’m not happy, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I haven’t been happy in such a long time. With her… with my fiancée. It’s terrible. She controls everything I do, everything I say, everyone I see. She makes me feel like I’m nothing, like I’m worthless, like I can’t do anything right. I feel so trapped, so suffocated… I feel like I’m losing myself completely. And I know it’s my fault — I know I got myself into this — but I just… I don’t know how to get out anymore.”

Tears pricked your own eyes hearing him speak, and you reached out, placing your hand gently over his, squeezing it softly. “Oh Jaafar… I’m so sorry. I wish you’d told me sooner. I wish I could have helped you.”

He turned his hand under yours, lacing his fingers through yours tightly, holding onto you like you were his lifeline.

“But the thing is…” he continued, his voice getting softer, deeper, more intense. “The only time I ever feel truly happy… the only time I ever feel like me again… is when I’m with you. You make me feel safe, you make me feel understood, you make me feel like I’m actually worth something. You’ve been the best thing in my life since the day I met you, Y/N. And I… I have feelings for you. I have for years. More than feelings — I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And it kills me knowing I’m engaged to someone else when the only person I’ve ever truly wanted is you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, tears spilling over and rolling down your cheeks. You’d dreamed of hearing him say those words for so long… but now that he was saying them, it felt so complicated, so messy, so wrong and right all at once.

Jaafar leaned in slowly, his eyes dropping to your lips, his face getting closer and closer to yours, his breath warm against your skin — he was about to kiss you, finally, after all these years.

But your mind raced — He’s engaged. He belongs to someone else. This is wrong. This is messy.

Right before his lips could touch yours, you placed your hands firmly on his chest, pushing him back just enough to stop him. You shook your head, tears streaming freely now.

“No, Jaafar… we can’t. This is wrong. You’re engaged. You belong to someone else. You can’t do this — you can’t just tell me you love me and try to kiss me when you’re supposed to be marrying her. It’s not right. And I won’t be the other woman. I won’t be the reason you break your commitment, even if you’re unhappy. You need to go. Please… just go.”

Jaafar looked absolutely heartbroken — devastated, like you’d just ripped his heart right out of his chest. He stared at you in disbelief, pain written all over his face, tears spilling down his own cheeks.

“Y/N… please… don’t say that. You know it’s not like that. You know I don’t love her — I’ve never loved her the way I love you. Please…”

“No, Jaafar,” you whispered, voice shaking. “Just go. Please.”

He sat there for what felt like forever, looking at you like he wanted to say a million things, like he wanted to fight you, like he wanted to convince you — but he could see how firm you were, how torn you were, how much pain you were in too. Slowly, he stood up from the sofa, his movements slow and heavy, like he was moving through water. He walked towards the front door, his shoulders slumped, looking completely defeated.

He reached for the doorknob, his hand trembling, and for a second you thought your heart was going to stop beating entirely. You watched him, every fibre of your being screaming at you to stop him, to tell him you felt the same, to just forget everything else and be with him. He loves you. He’s unhappy. He’s miserable. He wants you.

Before he could turn the handle, before he could leave, before it was too late — you moved.

You practically launched yourself off the sofa, running across the room, grabbing his arm and spinning him around to face you. Before either of you could say a single word, you grabbed his face in both your hands, pulled him down to you, and crashed your lips onto his.

It was desperate, messy, tear-stained, and absolutely perfect — years of longing, years of love, years of everything unsaid all poured into that one kiss. Jaafar responded instantly, wrapping his arms tight around your waist, pulling you flush against him like he never wanted to let go, kissing you back with every ounce of passion and love he had, kissing you like he was starving for you, like you were the air he breathed.

He walked you backward slowly, never breaking the kiss, until the back of your knees hit the bed, and he gently laid you down, climbing over you, his hands touching every inch of you like he wanted to memorise every curve, every mark, every part of you.

“Tell me you want this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice thick with emotion, his eyes searching yours earnestly. “Tell me you want me… because I’m yours, Y/N. Completely, entirely, forever yours. I’ve always been yours.”

“I want you,” you breathed back, tangling your fingers in his hair, looking deep into his eyes. “I’ve always wanted you. I love you, Jaafar — so much.”

That night was everything — soft, passionate, intense, tender, perfect. You showed each other exactly how much you loved each other, exactly how much you’d missed each other, exactly how much you needed each other. It felt like coming home, like everything falling into place, like all the broken pieces finally fitting back together.

When you woke up the next morning, sunlight was streaming in through the large windows, illuminating the room in warm, golden light. You shifted slightly, and realised you were wrapped completely in strong, warm arms — Jaafar’s arms. He was fast asleep, his breathing steady and soft, his face relaxed and peaceful, looking younger and happier than you’d seen him in years. One of his hands was resting gently, possessively, against your waist, his thumb brushing softly against your skin even in his sleep, holding you close like he was terrified you’d disappear if he let go.

You lay there for the longest time, just looking at him, tracing the line of his jaw softly with your fingertips, your heart so full it felt like it might burst. Last night had changed everything — nothing would ever be the same again. You knew there would be hard conversations ahead, hard decisions to make, messy things to fix… but for the first time in a long time, Jaafar looked truly happy. Truly at peace.

Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and he blinked awake, looking down at you, and the second his eyes met yours, the biggest, brightest, most genuine smile spread across his face — the kind of smile that reached his eyes and made them sparkle, the kind of smile you’d missed more than anything.

“Morning,” he whispered softly, his voice deep and raspy with sleep, tightening his arm around your waist and pulling you even closer until there was absolutely no space left between you. “Am I dreaming? Or is this real? Are you really here with me?”

“It’s real,” you whispered back, smiling softly, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead. “It’s very real. And I’m not going anywhere.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then finally your lips — slow, gentle, full of promise.

“I’m going to end it,” he murmured against your lips, his voice sure and determined. “Today. I’m going to call her, I’m going to end the engagement, and I’m never looking back. I’m done with her, I’m done with the toxicity, I’m done with being unhappy. From now on… it’s just us. If you’ll have me, that is.”

You beamed at him, tears of happiness pricking your eyes, and nodded eagerly.

“I’ll always have you, Jaafar. Always. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he said, kissing you again, softer this time. “More than anything. You saved me, Y/N. You brought me home.”

And as you lay there tangled together in the morning sunlight, you knew — no matter what happened next, you were going to face it together. You’d waited years for this, and now that you finally had it, nothing and no one was ever going to tear you apart again.

yeontanniee: this is kinda somewhat inspired by the “high infidelity” of @youwannabestartingsomething, so credits to you my lady😘, go check her out her fics are fireeee😩

[jaafaredits]

Jaafar Jackson - Got Me Singing

[youwannabestartingsomething]

High Infidelity {Jaafar Jackson x Reader}

It didn’t feel like betrayal at first.

It felt like relief.

You told yourself that as you sat across from Jaafar, fingers curled tightly around your glass, watching the way his eyes softened when they landed on you. It was subtle—too subtle for anyone else to notice—but you caught it every time.

The pauses. The almost-smiles. The way his attention always found its way back to you.

He wasn’t yours.

That truth sat heavy in your chest, even as your knees brushed under the table.

He had a fiancée. A whole life already planned.

And yet—

“Why do you look like that?” he asked quietly.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to run.”

A small laugh left you. “Maybe I should.”

His jaw tightened just slightly. “You won’t.”

It wasn’t a question.

That should’ve been your first warning.

⸻

You didn’t mean for it to start.

It was late—too late—and the world outside had gone quiet in that suspended, after-midnight way. You were supposed to leave. You knew that.

Instead, you stayed.

Talking. Laughing. Ignoring the tension threading through every glance.

“Do you ever think about it?” he asked suddenly.

“About what?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Forget it.”

But you didn’t.

Because you had been thinking about it.

“What would happen,” you said slowly, “if we stopped pretending?”

Silence.

Sharp. Dangerous.

“You don’t mean that,” he said.

“Don’t I?”

“You know I’m—” he stopped himself. “You know my situation.”

“I do,” you said softly. “That’s why I didn’t say anything before.”

“Before?”

“Before it got obvious.”

Something shifted then. You saw it in real time—the moment restraint started losing.

“You should go,” he muttered, standing abruptly.

“Jaafar—”

“Please.”

But he didn’t look at you when he said it.

And neither of you moved.

You left that night.

You told yourself that was the end.

It wasn’t.

⸻

April came with rain.

Cold. Steady. Relentless.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks—not really. Just half-finished messages. Conversations that hovered on the edge of something dangerous.

Until—

Come over.

Two words.

That was all it took.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

You had barely shut the door before he said it.

“Then why did you ask me?”

He didn’t answer.

Because the way he looked at you—that was answer enough.

Different now. Not soft.

Hungry.

“You have a choice,” you said, even as your heart pounded. “We both do.”

“Do we?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Yes.”

“Because it doesn’t feel like one.”

“Then say it,” you challenged. “Say you don’t want this.”

The silence stretched.

He tried. You could see it.

He failed.

His hand found yours.

And that was it.

That was the moment everything broke open.

⸻

It wasn’t just physical.

That would’ve been easier.

This was late nights that turned into mornings. Laughter that felt too intimate. The way he said your name like it mattered more than it should.

You started measuring time in moments with him.

And ignoring what it was costing.

“Do you feel guilty?” he asked one night.

You stared at the ceiling. “Yes.”

“Good.”

You turned sharply. “Good?”

“Means we still know it’s wrong.”

“Do you think about her?”

The tension snapped tight.

“Don’t,” he warned.

“You’re engaged, Jafaar.”

“I know.”

“Then how—”

“I said don’t.”

Silence.

“I didn’t plan this,” he said more quietly.

“Neither did I.”

“Then why does it feel like we’re choosing it?”

Because you were.

Every single day.

The cracks came quietly.

Missed calls. Short answers. The way his phone lit up with her name—and the way he went distant every time.

You pretended not to notice.

But pretending doesn’t last forever.

⸻

“April 29th,” you said one night.

He frowned. “What?”

“That’s the day everything changed.”

“You’re keeping track now?”

“I can’t forget it,” you said. “Can you?”

He didn’t answer.

And that told you everything.

It ended the way things like this usually do.

Quietly.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words felt hollow—but necessary.

Jaafar looked at you. “Because it’s wrong?”

“Yes.”

“Or because you’re scared?”

You hesitated.

“That’s what I thought,” he said bitterly.

“I never wanted to hurt anyone.”

“You think I did?”

Silence.

“I love her,” he said suddenly.

It hit harder than you expected.

“I know.”

“But I—” he exhaled. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“But it did.”

“Yeah.”

A pause.

Then—

“I think I love you too.”

That was the worst part.

Because it didn’t fix anything.

It just made leaving harder.

So you left anyway.

Because some lines don’t disappear once you cross them.

They stay.

Haunting you.

⸻

Days passed.

Then a week.

No texts.

No calls.

No him.

It hurt—but it also felt like breathing after holding it too long.

For the first time, you weren’t living in the in-between.

You were just… you

You didn’t expect him to come back.

Not like that.

Standing at your door in daylight, looking like he hadn’t slept.

“Please,” he said when you opened it. “Just let me talk.”

You hesitated.

Then stepped aside. “Five minutes.”

He nodded, stepping in carefully—like he wasn’t sure he still belonged there.

“I ended it.”

You blinked. “What?”

“With her,” he said. “I told her everything.”

Your stomach dropped. “Everything?”

“She deserved the truth.”

No pride. No relief.

Just consequences.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

“Because I meant what I said.”

“That you love me?”

“Yeah.”

You shook your head. “That’s not enough.”

“I know.” He stepped closer, slower this time. “That’s why I’m not asking to go back to what we were.”

“Then what are you asking?”

“A real chance.”

Something about the way he said it felt different.

“No lies. No hiding. No half-versions of this,” he said. “If you say no, I’ll respect it.”

You studied him carefully.

This wasn’t the same man who tried to live in two worlds.

This was someone who had chosen—and was standing in it.

“I’m not a second choice,” you said.

“You’re not.”

“I’m not the easier option.”

“You’re not that either.”

“Then what am I?”

He didn’t rush this answer.

“You’re the person I couldn’t ignore,” he said. “The one who made me realize I was living a life that looked right—but didn’t feel right.”

Your breath caught.

“That doesn’t excuse what I did,” he added. “To her. To you. But I’m done hiding. I’m choosing you. The right way.”

You let the silence settle.

Felt the weight of everything—the guilt, the pull, the truth.

“Okay,” you said finally.

He blinked. “Okay?”

“One chance,” you said. “Not whatever that was before. This is new. Honest.”

Relief flickered across his face.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I can do that.”

“You have to,” you corrected.

“I will.”

A small pause.

Then—

“Can I…?” he asked carefully.

You closed the distance first.

When he kissed you this time, it wasn’t rushed or hidden.

It felt steady.

Real.

Later, standing side by side instead of across from each other, he glanced at you with a small smile.

“This is better,” he said.

You huffed lightly. “Less morally questionable.”

“Definitely.”

You nudged him.

Then, softer—

“No more what-ifs.”

“No more,” he agreed.

And this time…

It felt like something that could actually last.

[irlapplehead-deactivated2026051]

Jaafar Jackson x Fem!Reader

Los Angeles, California — 2026

You stood next to Jaafar, trying to look normal, but your feet were killing you. Every few seconds, you shifted your weight, only for the strain to get worse.

You thought you were hiding it well, smiling awkwardly at the cameras pointed in you and Jaafar’s direction.

Apparently not.

Jaafar glanced over at you briefly. Sensing your discomfort, he slipped an arm around your waist in an attempt to comfort you before turning back to the man interviewing him about the movie.

Soon, the conversation wrapped up, and he turned fully to you. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you said quickly.

He hummed, unconvinced, but chose to leave it alone.

A few minutes later, he caught you shifting again.

“Okay, what’s wrong, baby?”

You exhaled through your nose, giving up. “My feet hurt.”

His expression softened. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because this is important to you,” you muttered, gesturing to the crowd lining the red carpet. “I can survive a few hours.”

He let out a soft laugh, then turned to the woman who had just stepped up beside him with a microphone in hand.

“Give us a minute,” he said, before guiding you off the carpet and weaving through the crowd.

You sighed. “J, I’m fine. You should go back.”

“Sit,” he said, gesturing to a small bench near the wall.

Hesitantly, you sat.

Relief hit you instantly, and you let out a tired sigh.

Jaafar watched you with a small smile as he shrugged off his long coat.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused.

“Hold on.”

Reaching into the inside pocket, he pulled out a pair of sandals.

You blinked at him. “…Jaafar.”

He just smiled. “What?”

“You did not.”

He shrugged, squatting down in front of you as he gently took your ankle. “Lift your foot.”

He carefully slipped off your heels, replacing them with the sandals. “Better?”

You nodded.

“Thank you, J,” you said, smiling.

“Mhm,” he hummed, standing and offering you his hand. You took it, letting him pull you up.

Before you could crouch down to grab your heels, he beat you to it, holding them in his right hand while his left laced through yours.

authors note: heyy, i wanted to write something for Jaafar and this was the only concept I could come up with so… my bad it’s so short :/

[yeontannieeeeee]

Hidden hearts (jaafar jackson x reader)

You and Jaafar had been together since your college days — years of quiet love, late-night talks, inside jokes, and being each other’s biggest supporters through absolutely everything. You’d gone from students figuring life out to you becoming one of the biggest names in music, and him landing the role of a lifetime playing his uncle Michael Jackson in the highly anticipated biopic. But through all the success, through all the fame and attention, one thing had stayed the same: your relationship was yours and yours only. You’d kept it completely private, never posting photos together, never walking red carpets side-by-side, never even confirming rumours. To the world, you were just two successful stars who happened to know each other. But behind closed doors, you were everything to each other — home, safety, love, forever.

A few weeks before the premiere of Michael, you were in the middle of your sold-out world tour, and tonight was one of the biggest shows of the leg. The energy in the arena was absolutely electric — thousands of fans screaming your name, lights flashing, the whole place buzzing. And up in the highest VIP box, right near the stage where he could see everything perfectly and you could easily spot him if you looked up, was Jaafar. He was sitting with a few of your closest friends, all of you people who had known about your relationship from the start, the only ones who’d seen it grow and flourish over the years.

Jaafar was leaning against the railing, eyes shining, wearing that soft, adoring smile he only ever had when he was watching you perform. He clapped and cheered louder than anyone, singing along to every word, his eyes never leaving you for even a second. You’d glanced up several times throughout the show, catching his eye, and every single time, your heart did that familiar flip — the same one it had done the very first time you’d kissed him all those years ago in your college dorm.

You’d just finished a high-energy song, the crowd still screaming and cheering, and you took a moment to catch your breath, smiling out at everyone. Then you turned slightly, your gaze drifting straight up to where Jaafar was sitting, and your smile softened completely, turning into something so full of love it almost made your knees weak. You grabbed the mic, taking a deep breath, and spoke into it, your voice warm and clear through the speakers.

“Okay everyone… I wanna do something a little different right now,” you said, grinning as the crowd cheered louder. “I have three songs I’m gonna sing for you next — none of them have ever been released, none of you have heard them before. And I wasn’t actually planning to perform any of them on this tour… but tonight’s special. Because tonight, someone very, very special to me is here watching me. Someone who means absolutely everything to me, someone who has been by my side through every single high and every single low for years now. And these songs? They’re all about him. Every single word.”

The crowd gasped and cheered loudly, screaming questions and comments, but you just laughed softly, your eyes still locked on Jaafar’s. He was leaning forward now, his heart racing, knowing exactly what you meant — knowing every single lyric, knowing exactly how much each song held your love for him.

“The first one,” you announced gently, “is Capital Letters.”

The music started, soft and beautiful, and you began to sing — every line dripping with all the feelings you had for him.

‘Never was a leader

Never had a thing for fairytales

Not really a believer, oh-oh

Small voice in the quiet

Guess I never dared to know myself

Can my heart beat quiet? No’

You sang with your whole heart, looking right at him, and you could see his eyes glistening with tears, his hand pressed over his heart. He knew — he’d always known — exactly how much he meant to you, but hearing you sing it like this, in front of thousands of people, even if they didn’t know who it was about… it meant more than anything.

When the song finished, the crowd cheered wildly, and you smiled, wiping a happy tear from your cheek. “The second one,” you said softly, “is Lover.”

This one was even softer, even more intimate, every lyric like a promise you’d made to him a thousand times over.

‘Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my

Lover’

As you sang, you traced a little heart in the air with your finger, pointing it straight up at him, and he mouthed I love you right back to you, loud enough only for you to read his lips. It felt like the whole arena had faded away, like it was just the two of you — just like it had always been.

When the final note faded, you took a shaky breath, grinning through happy tears. “And the last one,” you said, voice thick with emotion, “is called Call It What You Want.”

This one was perfect for you two — a song about building your own world, protecting your love, knowing that no matter what anyone said or thought, you had each other and that was enough.

‘My baby's fit like a daydream

Walkin' with his head down, I'm the one he's walkin' to

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

My baby's fly like a jet stream

High above the whole scene, loves me like I'm brand new

(Call it what you want, call it what you want, call it)

So call it what you want, yeah, call it what you want to

I want to wear his initial

On a chain 'round my neck, chain 'round my neck

Not because he owns me

But 'cause he really knows me

Which is more than they can say, I

I recall late November

Holdin' my breath, slowly I said

"You don't need to save me

But would you run away with me?

Yes (would you run away?)’

When the song ended, the arena erupted — screams, cheers, applause echoing everywhere. Jaafar was standing up now, clapping as hard as he could, tears streaming down his face, looking at you like you’d hung the moon and stars just for him. You blew a soft kiss up to him, and he caught it against his chest, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. No one knew yet — no one knew it was him, no one knew the love story you’d built — but you both did, and that was all that mattered.

The Day Before The Premiere

Fast forward a couple of weeks, and it was the day before the big premiere of Michael. You’d both decided — it was finally time. You didn’t want to hide anymore. You were proud of him, proud of what you had, proud of the life you’d built together, and you wanted the whole world to know exactly who belonged to your heart.

You’d stepped out together that morning to grab coffee at your favourite little spot — the same one you’d gone to on one of your very first dates back in college. You were dressed casually, comfortable, but you looked absolutely stunning to him, and he couldn’t keep his eyes or his hands off you.

You were standing outside the shop, waiting for your order, and Jaafar instinctively wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you close against him, resting his chin on your shoulder. You leaned back into him completely, covering his hands with yours, turning your head just enough to press a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. He turned his face into yours, catching your lips in a sweet, slow kiss right there on the sidewalk — nothing rushed, nothing hidden, just pure, open love.

You didn’t even notice the paparazzi taking photos from down the street, didn’t care. You were giggling against his lips, your fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and he was smiling into the kiss, holding you like he never wanted to let go. The photos that came out later were absolutely beautiful — you two looking completely in love, completely at peace, so soft and lovely-dovely it made everyone’s hearts ache in the best way. The internet went wild, everyone speculating, everyone asking questions — wait is the michael jackson’s nephew? How long? Are they together? — but neither of you said a word. You were saving the big reveal for tomorrow night.

Premiere Night

The night of the premiere was absolutely magical. The red carpet was massive, cameras flashing everywhere, fans screaming, reporters calling out names. Jaafar looked incredible in his tailored suit, nervous but excited, ready to show the world the work he’d poured his whole soul into. And you? You looked breathtaking in your elegant gown, turning heads the second you stepped out of the car.

Usually, you’d walk your own section of the carpet, he’d walk his — separate, private. But tonight was different.

Jaafar was waiting right by the entrance, and the second he saw you, his breath caught in his throat. He walked straight over to you, ignoring everyone else, and reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours firmly, confidently. He lifted your joined hands, pressed a kiss to the back of yours, and looked at you with that beautiful, shining smile.

“Ready, my love?” he asked softly, loud enough only for you to hear.

“Always,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand tight.

And together, hand in hand, you stepped onto the red carpet.

The reaction was instant — gasps, screams, cameras flashing even faster than before, reporters shouting questions. But you didn’t care. You walked side-by-side, posing together, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you close every chance he got. At one point, while posing for photos, Jaafar turned to you, brushed a strand of hair gently behind your ear, leaned in, and pressed a soft, clear kiss right to your lips — slow, sweet, and completely public.

The crowd went absolutely wild, cheering and screaming, and when he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, grinning like an idiot.

Later, during interviews, a reporter asked the question everyone was dying to know: “You two look absolutely incredible together — have you been together long? Is this official?”

Jaafar smiled, glancing down at you with so much love it made your heart race, before turning back to the mic.

“We actually met in college,” he said, his voice warm and steady. “We’ve been together for years now — through everything. We just… wanted to keep this part of our lives just ours for a while. But I’m so incredibly proud of her, and I’m so proud of what we have, and honestly? I didn’t want to hide the best thing in my life anymore. Y/N is my everything — she always has been, and she always will be. And yes… we are definitely, officially together.”

You beamed up at him, leaning your head against his shoulder, and added softly into the mic: “He’s been my person since the day we met. And all those songs I sang on tour a few weeks ago? Every single one was about him. Everything I am, everything I do… it’s all for him.”

The room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jaafar squeezed you tight, pressing another kiss to the top of your head.

That night, as you watched him shine on screen, as you saw how incredible he was, how much he’d achieved, you knew you’d made the best decision of your life — choosing him, loving him, and finally letting the whole world see exactly why he was worth every single word of every single song you’d ever written.

And as he whispered I love you so much against your ear later, holding you close in the dark theatre, you knew one thing for sure: your love story was only just getting started — and this time, you got to live it out loud, together.

yeontanniee: happy reading y’all!!

[yeontannieeeeee]

From Childhood Friends To Everything (jaafar jackson x reader)

You and Jaafar went way back — like, all the way back to when you were barely tall enough to reach the kitchen counter. Your parents were incredibly close friends, practically family, so you grew up spending every holiday, every birthday, almost every weekend at each other’s houses. You were always attached at the hip — running around the Jackson family home, playing games, laughing until your stomachs hurt, getting into mischief together. Even back then, Jaafar was the sweetest boy you’d ever known — kind, gentle, always looking out for you — and even at such a young age, he had the biggest, brightest smile that always made your heart race just a little bit. And for Jaafar? You were his favourite person in the whole world. He followed you everywhere, called you his best friend, and even back then, he had the biggest little puppy crush on you that he was way too shy to ever admit out loud.

But life had different plans, and when you were around ten years old, your family had to move back to your hometown — far away, miles and miles from Los Angeles and from him. It was heartbreaking for both of you; you cried when you said goodbye, promising you’d never forget him, promising you’d stay in touch. And for a while you did — phone calls, letters, emails — but as the years went by, life got busy, time zones got confusing, and slowly, the contact faded until it stopped completely. You grew up in your hometown, chasing your dreams, while Jaafar grew up there, chasing his.

Fast forward over a decade later. Jaafar was now 24 years old, a successful model and actor, just weeks away from the release of the highly anticipated biopic Michael, where he played the lead role of his uncle. He was walking down the street one sunny afternoon, heading to a meeting, when he stopped dead in his tracks. Right in front of him, towering high above the buildings, was a massive billboard — and staring right back at him was you.

You were 20 now, and somehow, some way, you had become the biggest new name in the modelling industry. Your face was everywhere — on the covers of the most famous fashion magazines, on bus stops, on posters, and now, huge billboards lighting up the streets of LA. You were stunning — even more beautiful than he remembered, all grown up, radiant, confident, absolutely breathtaking. Jaafar stood there, staring up at your face for the longest time, completely frozen.

And suddenly, it all came rushing back — the memories, the laughter, the days you’d spend together, the way his heart used to flutter whenever you were near him when you were kids. That little puppy crush he’d had on you all those years ago? It didn’t just come back — it hit him like a tidal wave, ten times stronger than before. He felt his face warm up, his heart beating fast in his chest, and he couldn’t stop smiling. “Wow…” he whispered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s really her.”

From that moment on, Jaafar became your biggest fan. He followed everything you did, bought every magazine you were on the cover of, secretly kept photos of you saved on his phone. He couldn’t believe that his childhood best friend — the girl he’d been so sweet on when he was little — was now the stunning supermodel everyone was talking about. He was so incredibly proud of you, but also… he was head over heels all over again, just like he was when he was ten years old.

A few weeks later, the press tour for Michael was in full swing. Jaafar and the rest of the cast were sitting on a talk show couch, laughing and answering questions, when the host asked a fun little question: “Alright, everyone, let’s have some fun — tell us, who is your biggest celebrity crush right now?”

One by one, the cast members answered — naming different actors, singers, stars — until it was Jaafar’s turn. He leaned back in his chair, a soft smile tugging at his lips, his eyes lighting up instantly.

“That’s easy,” he said, his voice warm and sure. “For me? It’s Y/N L/N.”

The whole room — the audience, the host, even the other cast members — immediately cheered and agreed loudly, clapping and whistling.

“YES!” the host laughed. “We love that choice! She is absolutely incredible — talented, beautiful, literally perfect. You have amazing taste, Jaafar!”

Jaafar just grinned, nodding, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “She really is. I’ve actually known her since we were kids, you know? We grew up together before she moved away. Seeing everything she’s doing now… she’s just amazing. Always has been.”

The audience ‘aww-ed’ loudly, loving the story, and from that moment on, everyone knew exactly who Jaafar Jackson was crazy about.

A Few Months Later

A few months passed, the movie was a massive success, and Jaafar was busier than ever — but he still thought about you every single day, wondering if you ever thought about him, wondering if you’d even recognise him now if you saw him.

Then came the invitation he’d been waiting for. The entire cast was invited onto The Tonight Show — one of the biggest, most famous talk shows in the world. But this episode was special — it was a celebrity special where the main host brought in special co-hosts to help him interview the guests.

Jaafar walked onto the stage with the rest of the cast, waving to the cheering crowd, smiling broadly as they took their seats. The main host greeted them warmly, laughing and chatting, before turning to the audience with a big grin.

“Now,” the host said, leaning into the mic, “you guys know how this works — today I’ve got some amazing co-hosts helping me out. They’re huge stars, absolutely incredible talents… and I think one of them in particular is going to make someone here very, very happy.”

The audience laughed and cheered knowingly, and Jaafar looked around confused, chuckling softly. He had no idea what was going on.

“Jaafar…” the host teased, grinning right at him. “I think you already know exactly who I have backstage waiting to come out as my co-host, don’t you?”

The whole audience burst into laughter and cheers again, and Jaafar’s eyes went wide, his brow furrowed even more. He shook his head, laughing nervously. “Wait… what? I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about, man! Who is it?”

The host just winked and turned toward the side of the stage. “Well, let’s bring them out! Please welcome our amazing co-hosts for tonight — the incredible Alex Consani… and the one, the only… Y/N L/N!!”

The music started and the crowd roared so loud the walls practically shook as you and Alex walked out onto the stage, smiling and waving at everyone. Jaafar’s eyes went huge and his heart skipped a beat seeing you there, but he kept his cool, a bright, polite smile spreading across his face as you both approached the group.

“Hi everyone! It’s so great to be here!” you greeted warmly, smiling at all of them. When your eyes met Jaafar’s, your gaze lingered just a little longer than with everyone else’s, and you both shared a small, secret grin before looking away again.

Alex beamed, leaning into his mic, “And seriously, we’re really excited to be here with the whole Michael cast! This was actually so unexpected — they literally didn’t tell us who we were going to interview until the very last second! We had no clue it was you guys — honestly such an amazing surprise!”

The crowd laughed and clapped, and the whole segment flowed perfectly — fun, lively, and totally professional on camera. You and Alex asked the cast all about filming the movie, what it was like working together, the hardest scenes, the funniest moments. Jaafar answered every question perfectly, laughing at all the jokes, contributing to the conversation, but he kept catching your eye whenever he could, a quiet, excited sparkle in his gaze that only you seemed to notice.

When you asked him, “So Jaafar, what was the hardest part about filming this movie? I know it must have been so much pressure but also such an honour,” he leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, looking right at you.

“It was a lot,” he admitted honestly. “Long hours, a lot of responsibility, carrying my family’s name and legacy — it was heavy sometimes. But honestly? What kept me going was thinking about… well, thinking about people I love, people who believed in me. People like you. Seeing you succeed, seeing you do what you love and absolutely kill it… it inspired me. I kept thinking, If Y/N can do it, I definitely can too.”

Your heart swelled so big you thought it might burst, and you smiled at him, eyes soft. “You did more than kill it, Jaafar. You were absolutely amazing — I’ve been telling everyone for months how incredible you are in this! You were born to do this, honestly.”

Jaafar’s face lit up, and he beamed at you — that same lopsided, boyish smile that you remembered so clearly from when you were little.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice warm and sincere. “That means everything coming from you.”

By the end of the show, the chemistry between you two was sweet and friendly, but perfectly polished for the cameras — though anyone paying close attention could tell there was something special there.

As soon as the cameras stopped rolling and the audience was filing out, the professional walls came down instantly. You and Alex excused yourselves quickly and headed straight over to where Jaafar was standing with the rest of the cast, waiting to leave.

“Jaafar!” you gasped softly, laughing in disbelief, as you and Alex came to a stop right in front of him.

“Y/N…” Jaafar breathed out, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe you were actually standing right there in front of him. “Oh my god… I-I had no idea! I seriously didn’t know! This is…” He laughed, running a hand through his hair, his cheeks flushed bright pink. “This is insane. I can’t believe it’s really you.”

You beamed at him, your eyes shining just as bright as his were. “I can’t believe they never told me you were gonna be here!! they just said ‘the cast of a movie’?? I should’ve guessed it was you but they kept everything so secretive I was actually SHOOK when I walked out and saw you standing there! It’s been so long — look at you! You’re incredible!”

“Look at you,” Jaafar said quietly, his voice full of awe, completely forgetting about everyone else around you. “You’re… wow. You’re even more beautiful in person. Seriously.”

You blushed, looking down shyly for a second before meeting his gaze again, and even though there was no audience here now, Alex and the rest of the cast ‘aww-ed’ loudly, loving the sweet moment between you two.

“We go way back,” you laughed, turning to Alex and the others. “Our parents are best friends — we practically grew up together! We were inseparable until I moved away. It has been years… honestly, I never thought I’d see him again, let alone here!”

“And I’ve been seeing her face everywhere for months!” Jaafar added, grinning at you. “Literally every billboard, every magazine — I kept looking thinking, Is that really her?, and I was so proud, but also… man, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” you said softly, smiling warmly at him. “More than you know.”

Alex smiled, nudging you playfully. “You two are literally the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, oh my god.”

After chatting and catching up with the whole group for a while, everyone started heading out, leaving just you and Jaafar standing near the dressing rooms.

Jaafar hesitated for a moment, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking suddenly nervous again — just like he used to when you were kids.

“Hey…” he started softly, looking deep into your eyes. “I know it’s been a long time, and things are different now… but honestly? Seeing you again, talking to you… it feels like no time has passed at all. You still feel like home to me, Y/N. You always did.”

You smiled, reaching out to gently take his hand in yours, just like you used to do when you were little. His hand was warm, strong, and fit perfectly against yours.

“It feels that way to me too, Jaafar,” you whispered. “I never stopped thinking about you, you know.”

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your knuckles, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Good,” he murmured against your skin. “Because I’m not letting you go again. Not this time. I’ve waited way too long to have you back in my life — and now that I do? I’m never letting you leave.”

And as he stood there, holding your hand, looking at you with all the love and adoration he’d carried in his heart since he was ten years old, you knew — this was only the beginning. The little boy with the puppy crush and his best friend girl had finally found their way back to each other… and this time, it was forever.

yeontannieee:aww so cuteeeee

[iriadoingthings]

MICHAEL (2026)

[yeontannieeeeee]

3 AM Reassurance (jaafar jackson x reader)

Jaafar’s pov

3:17 AM.

I’ve been lying here for what feels like forever, staring blankly at the ceiling of my hotel room. The sheets are twisted around me, my heart’s hammering against my ribs, and my stomach is twisted in tight knots that just won’t go away. Tomorrow — or well, technically today — is the premiere. My first ever red carpet, my first big movie event, the first time the whole world is gonna see me not just as myself, but as an actor. And honestly? I’m terrified.

Scared I’ll freeze up in front of all those cameras, scared I’ll say the wrong thing, scared I won’t live up to expectations, scared people will only see my last name instead of all the hard work I put in. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for hours, and the more I think, the worse it gets.

My eyes keep drifting over to my phone sitting on the nightstand.

I know exactly who I want to call. Who I need to talk to right now. It’s always her — it’s always Y/N. She’s the only person who ever really knows how to calm me down, the only one who makes me feel like everything’s gonna be okay even when I’m sure it’s not. I like her — more than I probably should, more than just a friend — but I’ve never had the courage to say it out loud, and neither has she. We just… exist in this perfect, soft little space between friendship and something more, and I’m too scared to mess it up.

But my thumb hovers over her name, hesitating.

It’s 3AM, Jaafar. She’s asleep. She’s probably been asleep for hours. You can’t just wake her up just ‘cause you’re being nervous and overthinking everything. She’s got a big day too, she needs her rest… don’t be annoying, just leave it.

I put the phone down, roll over, squeeze my eyes shut — but my mind won’t stop racing, my chest feels tight, and honestly? This hotel room feels way too big and way too quiet, and the only thing I want right now is to hear her voice.

I pick the phone up again.

But she told me before — whenever I’m feeling like this, no matter what time, just call. She said she’d always answer. She means it, right? She wouldn’t say that just to be nice…

I take a deep breath, my hand shaking just a little, and before I can talk myself out of it again, I press call. I hold the phone to my ear, listening to it ring, my heart thumping even harder now. Part of me hopes she doesn’t answer — so I don’t bother her — but the bigger part of me is praying she does.

After three rings, I hear her voice, sleepy and soft, and instantly my shoulders drop like I can finally breathe again.

“Jaafar? Hey… you okay? Everything alright?”

end of jaafar’s pov

“Hey… I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I didn’t mean to wake you, I just… I couldn’t sleep. And you’re the only person I wanted to talk to.”

You sit up quickly, concern washing over you. You’ve liked Jaafar for the longest time — he’s kind, talented, so sweet — but neither of you have ever said anything about the feelings you both clearly have. You’re just best friends, close as can be, and you’d never do anything to ruin what you have. But hearing how shaky and upset he sounds right now makes your heart ache anyway.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t apologise. I’m glad you called. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

He lets out a long, shaky sigh, and you can practically picture him running a hand through his hair the way he always does when he’s stressed.

“It’s tomorrow… or well, today now. The premiere. My first ever red carpet. I’ve been lying here for hours just thinking about it, and my stomach feels like it’s in knots. I’m scared I’ll mess up, or say the wrong thing, or freeze in front of all those cameras and people. I’ve never done anything like this before, Y/N. It’s terrifying.”

Your heart aches for him — you know how hard he’s worked, how much this means to him, how much pressure he puts on himself to do well, especially carrying the name he does. You speak gently but firmly, wanting him to believe every single word.

“Jaafar, listen to me. There is absolutely nothing for you to be nervous about, okay? Nothing. You have worked so incredibly hard for this, you poured your whole heart and soul into this role, and you were amazing — honestly, you were incredible. Everyone who sees this movie is going to love you, I know they are. And I’m gonna be right there beside you the whole time. I won’t leave your side, I promise. If you get nervous, just look at me, squeeze my hand, and breathe. It’s gonna be okay, I swear.”

He is quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, there is a slight edge of frustration in his tone — not at you, but at himself.

“It’s easy for you to say that though, isn’t it? You’ve been doing this since you were literally a kid. You grew up in this world, you know exactly how it all works. You’ve walked hundreds of red carpets, given speeches, even won an Oscar for god’s sake… you’re a pro at all this. Of course you think it’s no big deal. But for me? It’s all brand new, and I feel like I’m walking into something I’m just… not good enough for.”

Your heart breaks a little hearing him talk about himself like that, and you sit up straighter, voice soft but serious.

“Jaafar, stop. Don’t say that. Yeah, I’ve been doing this for a long time, and yeah I’ve had a lot of amazing opportunities — but that doesn’t mean I don’t get nervous too. Every single time I step onto a red carpet, every time I do an interview, every time my name is called for an award… I still get that exact same feeling in my stomach. I still worry I’ll mess up or say the wrong thing or that I’m not good enough. Being in this industry doesn’t make the nerves go away — you just learn how to breathe through them, that’s all.”

You pause for a second, letting your words sink in before continuing, your voice full of nothing but admiration and affection for him — the kind of affection you wish you could say out loud properly, but settle for showing in other ways.

“And honestly? All those things I’ve achieved? They don’t matter half as much to me as what you have done. You walked onto that set, completely new to all of this, with all these eyes watching you and all these expectations on your shoulders… and you didn’t just do a good job, Jaafar — you were brilliant. You were so dedicated, so kind, so talented… you made me a better actor just by being there with me. I have years of experience, yes — but you? You have something I can’t even teach, something you can’t learn — you have natural talent, you have heart, you have this magic about you that people are gonna fall in love with the second they see you. You belong here just as much as I do — actually, more, in my opinion.”

He is silent for a long time, and you hear him take a shaky breath, like he’s trying not to get emotional.

“You really mean that?” he whispers, voice thick.

“Every single word,” you answer immediately, without hesitation. “Jaafar, I wouldn’t lie to you. I see you — all of you — and you are so much more than enough. You’re amazing. And tomorrow… today… when we walk that carpet together? I’m gonna be so proud to stand next to you. I’m gonna be showing you off to everyone, honestly.”

He lets out a soft, watery laugh, and you smile hearing it.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he murmurs. “I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ve been so scared I’d mess this whole thing up, but hearing you say all that… it actually helps. A lot.”

“Good,” you say softly. “Because I’m gonna keep saying it until you believe it. And remember — no matter what happens, I’m right there. Just look for me, okay? I’m always gonna be right here.”

“I know,” he says quietly, and you can hear the warmth and affection in his voice clear as day — the same kind you have for him. “You’re my favourite person, Y/N. Always have been. I don’t know how I got so lucky to have you in my life, but thank you. For everything. For tonight especially.”

“Always,” you whisper back. “Now try and get some sleep, okay? You’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I wanna see that handsome smile of yours looking well-rested.”

He chuckles softly. “Okay, okay. I’ll try. And Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you said softly

“Thank you. Seriously. You… you really are the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

Your cheeks warm up, and you’re glad he can’t see how flustered he makes you. “You too, Jaafar. Night.”

“Night, Y/N. See you soon.”

You hang up the phone with a soft smile, placing it back on the nightstand, feeling lighter knowing he was feeling a little better. You snuggle back into your blankets, already counting down the hours until you’d get to see him, get to hold his hand, get to show the whole world exactly how amazing he truly was — even if you couldn’t tell him just how much you loved him yet.

The premier

The flashbulbs are blinding, the noise is loud, and there are hundreds of people calling names, shouting questions, cameras clicking from every angle. Jaafar had been quiet and a little shaky when you’d met him at the venue, his hand cold and trembling slightly when you’d instinctively reached for it — but the second you stepped out onto the carpet together, you squeezed his fingers tight, turned to him and gave him the brightest, most reassuring smile you had.

He looked down at you, took a deep breath, and suddenly all that nervousness seemed to melt away. He lifted your joined hands, brushed his thumb gently across your knuckles right there in front of everyone, and gave you that beautiful, lopsided smile that belonged only to you.

“Got you right here,” he whispered, loud enough only for you to hear. “So I’m not scared at all.”

And as you walked side-by-side, posing for photos, answering questions, smiling and laughing together… you knew exactly what you’d said to him was true. He belonged here. He was incredible. And even if neither of you had found the courage to say the big things out loud yet, you knew one thing for sure — you were right where you belonged, right by his side.

yeontannieeeeee: alright y’all, that’s it for today🫶🏻 hope you guys liked it hehe

[yeontannieeeeee]

Closed Door Interview (jaafar jackson x reader)

The room is quiet, just the hum of equipment filling the air. Two black chairs sit side-by-side, angled slightly toward the small table where the interviewer is seated. Cameras are set up at different angles, their red recording lights glowing steadily, capturing every movement and word. There’s no audience, no bright flashing lights — just the three of them, and the quiet focus of a session meant only for the final cut.

You sit upright, hands resting gently in your lap, while Jaafar leans back comfortably, one arm draped loosely over the back of his chair. His shoulder is just inches from yours, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, close enough that every small shift feels noticeable.

“First off,” the interviewer starts, smiling warmly at you both. “Thank you for doing this closed session with us. I’d love to start by asking — what was filming this movie really like behind the scenes?”

Jaafar turns his head toward you first, like he always does before answering anything related to the project, and a soft smile tugs at his lips. “It was honestly one of the best experiences I’ve ever had. From the moment we started rehearsals, it just felt… right. The locations were beautiful, the crew was incredible, but honestly? The best part was the people I got to work with.” He glances at you then, his eyes softening, voice dropping just a little lower. “Especially her.”

Your breath catches just slightly, and you duck your head with a quiet laugh, cheeks warming. When you look back up, he’s still watching you, that same gentle look in his eyes that always makes your heart race. “I feel exactly the same way,” you say, turning slightly toward him too. “We had such long days sometimes, really intense scenes, but it never felt draining. Because everyone was so supportive, and working alongside Jaafar… it just made everything easier. He brings so much energy and heart into everything he does, and it’s contagious.”

Jaafar’s grin widens, proud and pleased, and his hand shifts just a little closer to yours on the armrest between you. His knuckle brushes lightly against the side of your hand — quick, subtle, something no one else would catch — but you feel it like electricity running through your veins. You don’t pull away, and neither does he; his fingers stay hovering just millimetres from yours, like he’s waiting, hoping, but too scared to cross the line.

“That leads perfectly into my next question,” the interviewer says, leaning forward slightly. “The chemistry between your characters is something everyone’s been talking about. It feels so genuine, so natural — how did you build that kind of connection?”

This time Jaafar doesn’t hesitate. “I wish I could say we worked hard at it, but honestly? It wasn’t work at all. From our very first read-through, talking to Y/N felt like talking to someone I’d known for years. She’s so easy to be around, so kind and talented, and when you’re acting opposite someone who makes you feel that safe, that comfortable… it just happens. You don’t have to pretend. It just feels real.” He pauses, his gaze locking onto yours, and his voice turns quieter, more sincere. “For me, at least. It’s always felt real with her.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he must hear it. You look at him, really look at him — at the way his dark eyes are soft, open, like he’s saying more than he’s actually putting into words. “It was the same for me,” you admit softly, your voice steady even though your insides are fluttering. “I never once felt like I had to try too hard, or overthink anything. Jaafar just gets it — he gets me. And when you have that kind of understanding with someone, the scenes just flow. It never felt like acting. It just felt… like us.”

For a moment there’s silence, just the hum of the cameras, and you and Jaafar are caught in this little bubble, eyes locked, everything else fading away. His fingers brush against yours again, slower this time, deliberate, and your pinky finger hooks gently around his. It’s barely anything, so small and subtle, but it means everything. He gives your finger the lightest squeeze, and you can feel the smile in his eyes.

“What about the rest of the cast and crew?” the interviewer asks, breaking the soft moment gently. “What was the vibe like with everyone else?”

“It was family,” Jaafar says instantly, turning back to the interviewer but keeping his pinky linked with yours, his thumb rubbing lightly over your skin in a soothing rhythm. “Everyone got along so well, we spent all our free time together too — meals, hanging out between takes, even just sitting around talking late into the night. I learned so much from every single person there, and I walked away with friends I know I’ll have forever.”

You nod in agreement. “Exactly. No one was there just to do a job and leave. Everyone cared so deeply about the story, about each other. It made the whole experience feel so special, something I’ll never forget.”

“And finally,” the interviewer says, “the question everyone is dying to know — would you two want to work together again in the future?”

Jaafar doesn’t even think before answering. He turns fully toward you now, his hand shifting so his palm rests lightly against the back of yours, fingers intertwining slowly, openly now — like he doesn’t care if the cameras catch it, doesn’t care who sees. “In a heartbeat. There’s no one else I’d rather work with. She challenges me, inspires me, makes every moment better — whether we’re filming or just sitting and talking. I’d say yes to anything, as long as it’s with her.” He pauses, his voice dropping to that soft, warm tone that makes your knees weak. “Honestly? I hope I get to work with her for a long, long time.”

You smile, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and squeeze his hand tight. “I feel exactly the same. Jaafar makes everything brighter, better, just by being there. I can’t imagine not working with him, not having him around. I’d jump at the chance to do this all over again — any role, any story, anywhere. As long as we’re together.”

Jaafar’s thumb strokes gently over the back of your hand, his eyes shining, and he leans in just a little closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear it, even though the mics are still on. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

The interviewer beams, clearly touched. “Well, let’s hope we get to see much more of you two together — on screen and off. Thank you both so much, this has been wonderful.”

As soon as the cameras are switched off and the red lights fade to black, the room falls quiet. But neither of you let go of each other’s hands. Jaafar turns fully in his chair to face you, his free hand coming up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing softly over your skin.

“You meant that?” he asks quietly, searching your eyes. “About wanting to work together again… about wanting me around?”

You lean into his touch, heart racing, and smile softly. “Every word. And not just for work, Jaafar. I want you around… always.”

His face lights up, bright and beautiful, and he lets out a soft breath like he’s been holding it for months. “Thank God,” he murmurs, leaning his forehead against yours, his voice thick with emotion. “Because I’ve been crazy about you since day one, and I didn’t know how much longer I could keep pretending it was just about the movie.”

You laugh softly, your fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him just a little closer. “Me too. I thought I was the only one being stupid and hiding it.”

He chuckles, low and warm, and lifts his head just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before coming back to your eyes. “We were both being stupid,” he whispers, “but we’re not hiding anymore. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper back, and before you can say anything else, he leans in and kisses you — soft, gentle, and so full of everything you’ve both been feeling for so long. It’s quiet, perfect, and in that moment, with his hand still holding yours and his lips moving softly against yours, you know one thing for sure: whatever comes next, you’re facing it together.

yeontannieeeeee: this is my first ever fanfic on tumblr and i’m kinda nervous 🥹 but i hope you guys like it! i also take requests because i’d love to bring your ideas to life along with mine🫶🏻

(also credits to omegaa_aep for this edit on tiktok😘)