#Jackson Wang Scenarios

[tangerineastronaut]

Let's Put the End in Friends | Jackson Wang (Part 2)

Part 1

The one where your best friend/sort of boyfriend really wants to fuck you.

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, SMUT, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 7.8k Warnings: reader is bad at feelings, jackson is in love, two horny weirdos, "begging" for sex (but not in a bad/manipulative way there's a mutual understanding ok), oral - fem!receiving (the man eats it like cake even after he hits), unprotected sex (don't do it unless you're best friends with Jackson Wang and I'm guessing you aren't), discussion of contraceptives, breeding kink sorta kinda heh, brief talk of having kids in future, banter, teasing, name calling, dirty talk, I think that's all?? they're still really annoying except just horny now A/N: Ughhhh here's the part two that I desperately wanted to write and finally people requested it!! This chapter is like 15% feelings and 85% smut, but it's all kinda mixed in so I apologize in advance. Jfc I love these two so much. If this is bad I'm sorry! I love writing where it takes me and it all felt right. I love my readers so much. <3 Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

You hadn’t really known what to expect. 

In dramas, after a confession, things were usually a little awkward, shy, sweet. But the day after Jackson confessed to you, he nearly bit your hand off when you tried to steal one of his dumplings. Granted, you bit him first, but it was his job to be chivalrous, not yours. 

“Um, maybe eat your own before you try to steal mine?”

“I’m literally just a girl, Jackson.”

A few weeks after said confession, things were still mostly the same, as you were awoken by someone pinching your cheek. Bleary eyed, you squinted, looking up at a very hot, very annoyed face. 

“Where the hell is my academy sweatshirt? I’m gonna be late for my shift,” he huffed, giving you another pinch. Jackson worked part time at an MMA academy, teaching a class of young children. Unfortunately, that meant three days out of the week, he had to wake up at 7 in the morning to be ready by 8. And if he was up, so were you. 

“I dunno,” you whined groggily, rolling over. “I didn’t wear it. Promise.”

“Liar,” he accuses. 

“Mmn. ‘m not lying, check my laundry.”

You hear shuffling, the sound of your hamper being opened (filled with clean clothes, because dirty clothes go on the bathroom floor of course), and quickly tug the blanket over your head as Jackson calls your bluff. 

“At least it’s clean,” you attempt to plead your case, but the covers are yanked off. You yelp as Jackson flips you onto your back and begins to tickle you. 

“Didn’t wear it, huh? Seriously, of all my clothes?” he snarls, fingers digging into your sides. You can’t speak; you instead make animalistic noises of possession as you attempt to free yourself. You wrap your legs around his waist and shove at his chest, shouting apologies in between fits of laughter. 

At last, the tickling ends, and you all but collapse against the sheets, sprawled out like half a starfish. 

“I’m going to start charging you for the things you steal,” Jackson says, breathless himself from the efforts of torture. Only then are you made aware that his hands are on your thighs. You don’t think he’s doing it on purpose, until you do, when he squeezes them beneath his palms and brushes his thumbs under your pajama shorts. 

“Hey,” you warn, wriggling beneath him. He laughs and leans over you. 

“What?”

“You know what. Get off of me.”

He sighs, letting his head drop down as though weary. 

When he looks at you again, his eyes have gone all soft, and it makes you feel warm and tingly inside. You swallow and force yourself to look away. You weren’t completely immune to his charms and didn’t want to risk it, answering the question he hadn’t asked. 

“Nope.”

That was the deal. 

Kissing was alright—as long as it wasn’t too long or too deep. Touching was fine too, just avoid any erogenous zones. Truthfully, you weren’t sure why you’d placed such heavy restrictions on your…relationship? Whatever this was. Probably because at the end of the day, you were still terrified of losing him. Of crossing a bridge that crumbles behind you, never being able to return to where you were. 

Right now, the two of you could still be around your friends, could still shamelessly flirt and insist it isn’t flirting. When you’d shown up to dinner with the guys, your hand clasped in Jackson’s to test the waters, no one said a word. Youngjae crinkled his nose and said it was cringe…and that’s it. That was the only reaction. The only people surprised about this development were the two of you, apparently, mostly you. And, you hadn’t realized how horny you were for one another. 

When you’d stare at him after a shower, when he had the audacity to drink juice from the carton wearing nothing but a towel around his waist, you noticed that…you’ve always stared. That wasn’t new. It’s just that you were now aware of it, and also very aware of how it felt to see his throat working as he swallows, beads of water dripping down his chest and following the dip of his abs like a treasure map for your tongue—

But it went both ways, fortunately, as Jackson’s playful way of grabbing your waist when you were busily bent over no longer felt fun, but rather, made you want to push against him, feel his hands sliding elsewhere, because god had they always been so big? Had his fingers always been so long?

Presently, Jackson rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek. You refuse to look at him still, so he tilts down, where his lips brush your throat; when your head snaps up to scold him, he takes the opportunity to catch your lips with his, sighing as though relieved. 

Kissing him feels so normal that it’s almost painful, like every second his lips are against yours, you ask yourself why you were so stupid, why you hadn’t noticed before, why you hadn’t understood that the feelings you’ve had for him were being confused for platonic when they were much, much closer to something akin to lo—

“Mmff…ou’re ‘unna ‘ee ate,” you mumble, though Jackson doesn’t stop kissing you. You giggle as your words are slurred by his mouth, which in turn makes him smile, which in turn makes you wrap your arms around his neck and consider begging him to let the kids down just this once. 

You know he wouldn’t hesitate. So that’s why you groan and push him away. You squirm from beneath him before he can snatch you up, fixing your pajamas as though you were preparing to walk the red carpet. When you look up at Jackson, he’s on his knees on your bed, hands gripping the covers and head tilted to the side. Oh. 

“Stop looking at me like that, puppy boy,” you mumble, rolling your eyes. You cross your arms, taking on the weight of the world’s strongest soldier as Jackson fucking Wang silently begs to bend you over the mattress

Jackson lets his legs slip over the side, feet planted on the floor as he tugs you toward him by the strings of your shorts. You whine in protest—losing a drawstring was so—

“I think you like it when I beg,” Jackson says, voice too low to be good for your health. You look at him in surprise, his expression hasn’t really changed, but why did he have to do this to you?

“I think you’re gonna be late,” you huff, feeling your cheeks redden. 

“I think you’re cute when you blush.”

“I think—”

“I think we’re gonna be good for each other.”

“It was my turn,” you pout. “I think you need a cold shower.”

Jackson mumbles something you don’t catch as he nuzzles his face against your stomach. His arms hang loosely around your hips, and you’re once again left with emotional whiplash as the man somehow goes from fuck me~ to hold me in the span of a few seconds. You swallow and rake your fingers through his hair (which he pulls at less nowadays, thanks to your nagging). 

“I want to,” you say quietly, nails scratching at his head. “But I’m scared. Like…we could probably bounce back from this, and from holding hands and even kissing. But I’m afraid that I’d never be able to, you know, not hurt around you the further we go if things turn out bad. We just don’t know what’ll happen if we commit. That’s scary.”

To your surprise, Jackson squeezes you tighter. He tilts his head back to look up at you, his chin resting just above your belly button. 

“What is it gonna take, pie?” he asks softly. Your brows furrow, though he continues. “What’s it gonna take for you to realize I’ve been yours this entire time?”

Your breath catches in your throat; you know he can feel it from the way your stomach tightens. He noses at the material of your top, planting a kiss there. Then the bastard opens his mouth again. You can taste his words.

“You own me, baby.”

You wake up confused and sweaty, fumbling around for your phone. You grab the device and groan—it’s not even five in the morning, and it’s a saturday. 

The dream woke you up. You and Jackson had an idea to conserve water, apparently, sharing a shower too small for one person let alone two. Your brain filled in the blanks for the missing information, unfortunately for you, though you had no doubt he was as beautiful in this reality, too.

It was almost impossible for you to go back to sleep after waking up usually, so you throw the covers off with much more attitude than necessary before quietly stepping out of your room. The light beneath Jackson’s door is off, and you tiptoe down the hall, but when you round the corner to the kitchen you gasp in surprise. 

Jackson raises a brow at you, taking a sip from the bottle of water in his hand. He’s wearing nothing but black boxers, showing off the lean muscles he works so hard on. So very hard. 

“You’re up?” he asks, and by his raspy tone it’s clear he woke up not long before you. You nod and shrug for no reason at all other than to distract from the fact that your eyes are eating him alive. He has the sexiest bedhead, and the thin chain he wears glints as it drapes over his collar bones.

“Thirsty,” you lie. You move past him to reach the fridge, but an arm hooks around your waist. You inhale sharply as you’re tugged against his chest, the warmth of him shooting tingles down your back. You swallow, and he holds the bottle in front of you. 

“Here,” he mumbles. He sounds so casual, like his actions hadn’t just made your soul briefly leave your physical form. You take the water from him and tilt your head back for a sip, not having realized how thirsty you were until you’ve finished half of it. 

You turn around, though he doesn’t release you, so you remain pressed to his bare chest. You have no idea why, but you lean forward and kiss him just below his collar bone, realizing too late how cruel you were being. In an attempt to make it chaste, you kiss the other side, right above his heart, though Jackson’s hand flies to your hair. He cups the back of your head and refuses to let you move. 

“Jackson,” you protest, but he whines. 

He fucking. Whines. 

“Please, pie. Just keep your lips on me. Please,” he breathes. You exhale a shaky breath and nod. 

“Okay,” you say quietly, and you swear he sighs with relief. You watch his face, tilting in again and pressing another kiss to the same spot as before. Jackson nods, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. 

You kiss the center of his chest, lips dragging over his skin to his left pec. When you move a tad bit lower, this time where his heart beats, he hisses and tightens his grip in your hair. You gasp for all the right reasons, though he doesn’t know that.  

“Fuck, sorry,” he whispers as though the two of you are sneaking around rather than doing…whatever this was in the middle of your shared kitchen. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” you giggle softly. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”

Jackson looks down at you, his expression morphing completely into…calmness? But it still puts you on edge. 

“What’d I say?” you ask with a frown. 

“I haven’t had sex in almost a year,” he admits. 

You blink. 

“You…what?” you breathe, shaking your head. “But, you’ve had tinder…you’ve gone on dates.”

Jackson pulls you close again, silently asking for more kisses. You realize he might’ve been right…you like when he begs. You kiss him as he asks, this time close to his nipple, and he shudders.

“I’m not gonna fuck a girl who wants more than I can give her,” he says. You mouth over his skin, tongue reaching the edge of his areola. You like his answer. 

“Why can’t you give her what she wants?” you ask, knowing what he’ll say but wanting to hear it all the same. Jackson knows this too, but he’s more than happy to give you what you want. 

“Because she—fuck—”

Your tongue lathes over his nipple and he grips the counter tight. 

“—’cause she’s not you,” he finishes. “None of them are. Can’t be anything for anyone except you. Wanna…wanna be everything to you.”

“You are…you are…” you mumble carelessly, barely kissing him, but rather rubbing your mouth on his chest. He seems more than okay with that, his head falling back, though he shakes it. 

“I’m not, baby. I’ve got so much to give you, gonna show you what it’s like to be loved right, fucked right, needed right. I need you, y/n. I-I fucking need you so bad. Always have.”

You were supposed to be turning him on, not getting choked up, but you pulled back and covered your face. Jackson was still a little breathless and out of it, but he grabbed at your wrists.

“Sorry, fuck, was that…was that bad? I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” you mumble, wiping helplessly at tears that slide down your cheeks. Jackson pulls you forward, crushing you to his chest. He wraps both arms around you so tight you can barely breathe. You love it. 

What else do you love?

You love that you can feel his cock pressing against the inside of your thigh, that you can feel how much he wants from you. You swallow your tears and reach between you, your palm finding the thick outline beneath his boxers and squeezing. 

Jackson’s reaction is visceral and downright sinful. He jumps, then buries his face into your hair. 

“Again, p-please,” he mumbles. You do it again. There’s a weird mix between sadness and horniness between you, but you keep going, sliding your hand up and down his clothed length. He’s definitely thick and a little longer than average, but not frighteningly so. 

Thick enough to make you choke, but not enough to bruise your cervix. Perfect. Somehow, you think you know exactly what it feels like to be fucked by him. 

“Jesus fuck—I don’t care if I get to fuck you, just please…let me taste you, baby,” Jackson grunts, hips lazily bucking against you. 

That…sounds alright with you. You take your hand off his cock and grab his wrist to pull him to his room, but he twists you around so that your back is to the counter. You open your mouth to ask what he’s doing, but the words die on your tongue when he drops to his knees. 

“J-Jackson, you don’t have t-to…”

“Shh, baby,” he mumbles, cupping the backs of your thighs. You feel dumb, forgetting how to speak. “Let me make you feel good. Wanna hear those pretty sounds you make when you play with yourself.”

Your cheeks flush pink, Jackson’s words hardly registering in your brain. He hooks his fingers into the elastic of your pajama shorts, leaning forward to kiss the front of your thigh before he begins tugging them down. 

“W-What do you mean when I pla—oh…”

Jackson doesn’t hesitate, going face first between your legs and groaning. The vibrations ring through your inner thighs and go straight to your clit, nearly sending you down. He hadn’t even touched you properly yet. 

“If you tell me you didn’t want me to hear you fucking yourself, I’m gonna call you a liar,” he whispers. His lips graze over the hair you keep trimmed—you could be a little self conscious about that at times, a couple past partners even commenting on it, but Jackson is worshipping your pussy without words and you’ve never felt so perfectly adequate. 

You think over what he said once you regain a little bit of consciousness. And fuck.

You were tired of this sort of hindsight ability you had now, the way you felt when you thought back to the times you were so obviously head over heels in love with him and had convinced yourself you were friends. 

Like fucking yourself with your favorite toy, back to the wall splitting your rooms. Moaning loud even though you didn’t do that when he wasn’t home.

“S-Sorry,” you whimper, because what the fuck else are you supposed to say? You feel warmth as Jackson breathes a laugh against your thighs, teeth grazing the sensitive skin near your labia. 

“It’s okay, baby. Just do it again for me, hm? While I’m in the same room at least?”

Did he have to be such a fucking brat? You thought “pie” and his attitude would disappear after all of this, but you were sorely mistaken. You opened your mouth to complain.

Jackson pushed your thighs open wider, settling between them and looking up at you from his knees. You squeaked, and the last thing you saw before his face disappeared was that smug grin underneath his pretty brown eyes. 

You learned two lessons very quickly. One: 

Jackson Wang ate pussy like his life depended on it. 

And two, you were immediately jealous of any woman who’d ever had him like this, on his knees between their legs. This should be illegal. 

His tongue slid between your tender pussy lips, expertly finding your clit and daring to flick at it beneath the hood. Your knees did buckle, but he hugged your thighs and kept you upright, taking the opportunity to squeeze and knead at your ass. You reached down and gripped his hair for purchase, tugging, eliciting a groan from him that felt better than any dick you’d ever had. You did it again, and this time he practically sang praises into you—he was literally fucking you with his moans. 

“Jesus fuck, Jackson?” you ask, unable to do much else other than feel and squeak out your needs. His fingers dug into the plushness of your thighs, though one hand slipped beneath your shirt. His thumb grazed over your nipple before gently pinching it, and you were ready to die. 

When he sucked the tender flesh of your clit into his mouth, you stumbled forward, nearly sending him back until he caught you by the waist. You whimper and tug at him to let you go until finally, he pulls away from your cunt, looking far too pleased with shiny lips. He licks them and you fall into his lap, shuddering as you cling to him. 

“That bad, huh? Should I keep my day job?” He teases you gently, one hand cupping the back of your head while the other hugs you tighter. You can still feel his cock straining against his boxers, nearly perfectly aligned as it presses against your ass. 

“S-Shut up, a-asshole,” you stammer out, gripping his shoulders tightly for comfort—or maybe dear life. Jackson chuckles in a way that makes you feel safe and annoyed—because how can he send you to fucking space and then try to convince you it’s all good and dandy with the same mouth?

“You okay baby?” he asks softly. When you nod, he pulls back enough to kiss your temple, though keeps his lips there. You swallow, having a feeling that he wasn’t done with you. Not even close.

“Was it good?” he asks.

“Very c-classy,” you manage to huff, but Jackson only laughs. 

“Mmm. Knew you’d taste good. Knew you’d love me on my knees,” he hums. You shiver, and he moves to your ear, nipping at your lobe. “Knew you’d look so pretty while I eat it.”

You let out a soft whine, your hips rolling into his. You’re spreading your sticky juices along his clothed cock, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he grabs your waist and bites his lower lip. 

“Are you done? Hm? Or can I take you to my room and finish you off?” Jackson asks, tilting his head to kiss below your ear. “Lay you down and hold you open until that pretty clit is nice and swollen…”

“F-Fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders. “N-No.”

“M’kay, need me to run you a bath then? I bought some new bath bombs—”

“No I meant…” you breathe, letting your head drop to his shoulder. You were dizzy, but your thoughts had never been more clear. Not necessarily a decision out of desperation, just…it needed to happen. You needed it. 

“I-I don’t want you to eat me out, Jackson,” you say as you swallow. 

You lift your head, relieved to see there’s no frustration in his gaze, no disappointment. God, he’s really just here to make sure you’re happy, safe, comfortable. 

“I want…I want you to fuck me.”

“Why are we in your room?”

“My bed is bigger.”

“When’s the last time you washed your sheets?”

“I don’t know, pie. When’s the last time you washed my sheets?”

You crinkle your nose, but Jackson just rolls his eyes. He drags you onto the bed with him, grabbing a pillow and stuffing it in your face. You sniff, your eyes immediately narrowing. 

“Have you seriously been washing your bedding regularly now under the implication that we’d fuck soon?” you hiss, sitting up to glare at him. He was sprawled out, looking much too happy for your liking.

“Yes,” he says gleefully. You grab the pillow and make an attempt to suffocate him, but he doesn’t fight back, and that’s not very fun. 

Oh yeah! You’re also only wearing his a t-shirt, and he’s only wearing boxers, and his cock is very hard and you’d very much like to put it in your mouth now that you’ve recovered somewhat from his tongue.

“You’re such a boy,” you groan, throwing the pillow back to the headboard. Jackson nods, tugging at the hem of your shirt. 

“Yeah. Take this off and sit on my face please,” he hums, lying back as though preparing to be sacrificed to the thigh smothering gods. 

“How romantic,” you scoff. 

“Come sit on my face so I can make you cry the only way a man should make a woman cry, please~”

“Better.”

With the back and forth out of the way, you can’t bring yourself to smile, pulling your knees to your chest. Jackson sits up, reaching out to take one of your hands in his large one. 

“Hey, no expectations, remember? You wanna stop right now, we’ll stop and never do anything like this again. You want me to finish you off, that’s fine too,” he says, thumb brushing the back of your knuckles. You shake your head. 

“No. I think…I think we should. We need to, I mean, otherwise we’re gonna be in limbo forever. But…” you pause, feeling your eyes burn a little damn it. When you look up at him, his boyish charm is gone, replaced completely by a concerned man who almost looks in love with you.��

“Hm? What is it, pie?” he asks, coaxing you gently. Ugh—why did sex have to be so god damn complicated?

“Promise me,” you say, biting your lower lip as you gather your words. “Promise me if we hate it, if it’s bad, just…stay with me? Like, forever? Please don’t move out? I mean if you have to get married just try to find someone who’s nice enough to let me stay? I’ll do the laundry. We can be like a throuple except you both just have to feed me and nothing else.”

“I love you, y/n.”

“Nevermind, let’s just do it.”

Jackson laughed as you flopped onto your back, though he leaned over you and caught your chin in his hand. You avoided looking at him, but he tilted your head down and pressed his forehead to yours to prevent you from escaping his eyes.

“I know you’re allergic to that word—”

“I am not—”

“But I love you. I love y/n and I love pie and I love the girl who thinks ‘coinkydink’ is an appropriate alternative for ‘coincidence’—”

“It is but okay—”

Jackson rolls his eyes, cupping your cheek under the romantic guise of making you shut up by pressing his thumb to your lips. 

“Do you know why I want to fuck you?” he asks, his voice oddly gentle for such an erotic question. You blink, he lifts his thumb. 

“Um, ‘cause I’m hot?” you offer with a shrug. His thumb goes back to your lips. 

“Yes, but the truth? I want to make love to you but I assumed your reaction to that phrasing would be…”

Jackson lifts his thumb. 

“Cringe?” 

“Correct,” he smiles. “I’m gonna do what I can so the next man you meet has to climb to fucking heaven to reach the lowest bar for you. I’m nowhere near perfect, but I’ll be damned if you leave my bed able to call your best friend and complain that your inner thigh got more action than you did.”

You pout and push his hand away. 

“That was one time,” you mumble. “If sex with you sucks, who am I gonna call? Yugyeom?”

“I dare you to fucking try,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. You beam, attempting to boop his nose, but he leans forward and kisses you instead. “If you leave this bed and hate me after, I’ll move out before sunset. And if you want me to l-o-v-e you for the rest of your life, I’ll do that too. I told you, pie. I’m yours.”

You kiss him this time, turning into him and cupping his jaw. Why couldn’t he see that the more of this he showed you, the less you wanted to risk it all disappearing? 

You tilt your head to the side, nuzzling your face against his throat to plant kisses there. He inhales, leg sliding between yours as a hand strokes your hair. 

“Mm…what do you want, y/n?” he asks, groaning when you suck beneath his jaw. 

“Wanna suck you off,” you mumble against his skin, relishing in the heavy groan you feel from him. “Then I want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that,” Jackson nods, licking his lips. You release him and sit up, looking over his stretched out form. He was so fucking gorgeous, and you were in his bed.

You place a hand in the center of his chest, and Jackson sits up on his elbows, his thighs parting eagerly. You giggle, gently kneeing his side. 

“Patience,” you hum, dragging your hand down to his abs, letting your fingertips dip between the muscles. You remembered all those times you fantasized about drawing your tongue against them—realizing you can. So you throw a leg over his, sliding down until you’re hovering over his thighs, face level with his hips. 

One hand rests on the elastic of his boxers while the other palms his abs. You look up at him as you drag your finger through the lines, following the shape of his muscles. He’s tense, but still coherent, so your other hand slides down to palm him again. 

Jackson curses under his breath, eyes never leaving yours. So you lean down and flatten your tongue below his navel. He gasps as you lick down the thin trail of hair that disappears beneath his boxers, kissing the sensitive skin there before moving up again. Jackson whines, and you lift a brow. 

“You’re not being very patient,” you say, kissing his stomach before licking up to his chest. Jackson’s head falls back, one hand moving to your hair. 

“It’s been almost a year, pie,” he groans. “Want this…want you…”

You giggle softly. When you palm him again, curling your fingers around his constricted length, Jackson practically flies off the bed, grabbing your wrist. 

“Baby, I will let you suck my cock until the sun explodes, just…please not now, I’m so fucking close, wanna be inside you…” he breathes. You’re surprised to see his chest flushed and heaving, not having realized how worked up he was over just a few light touches. You swallow and nod.

He smiles in relief, pulling you in for a kiss before sitting up on his knees, gently guiding you back. It’s a little jarring, suddenly being underneath your best friend, but Jackson immediately gives you gentle kisses, whispering your name and promises to make you feel good. You believe him. 

You lie there awkwardly as he reaches over you to the bedside table, removing a foil packet. You feel your cheeks redden, which makes him chuckle, and you mumble a quiet shut up. When he holds the condom packet between his teeth and thumbs the waist of his boxers, you realize that you should probably be naked, too. So you cross your arms over the hem of the t-shirt, tugging it over your head and tossing it to the side. 

The condom drops and bounces off your thigh as Jackson’s lips part in shock.

“What?” you mumble shyly, bringing your arms to your chest. He clears his throat and fumbles for the condom, shaking his head. 

“Nothing. You’re gorgeous. Knew you were, just..." he sucks in air through his teeth.

You blush harder, resisting the urge to tell him to hurry. 

Jackson manages to slide his boxers down to his thighs. His cock, once freed, smacks his toned stomach and you grip the covers at your sides as you watch an enticing bead of precum slide down the shaft. It’s exactly as you’d imagined; a little bigger than average, thick, and so beautifully veiny. God it’d feel so good on your tongue, but later. The idea that, hopefully in the future you could suck his beautiful cock whenever you wanted to, made you happier than you’d ever admit to anyone.

You watch as he rolls the condom down his length, swallowing down your doubts as he drops to his forearms on either side of you. 

“You okay?” he asks, no humor, no teasing, just genuine concern. You nod and lick your lips. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you say with a shaky breath. Jackson smiles, leaning forward until your noses bump. The action makes you giggle until you realize he’s fitting your mouths together, and suddenly he’s kissing you. 

It’s gentle and soft, his lips sucking at your lower one but moving no further than that. Your arms move to loosely hang around his shoulders, where both of his slip beneath you. You feel the head of his cock brush over your clit and jump. Jackson chuckles. It happens again, but this time, the swollen head catches against the opening between your folds, and you can already feel the stretch, wriggling your hips as if to wedge him in. 

Jackson begins to push. 

The stretch is slow, heavy, delicious, both of you releasing sounds of relief with eyes rolling back into your skulls as though you’ve both spent four years pretending you don’t want this. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, he squeezes you tight beneath him as he sinks deeper and deeper. At last, his hips meet yours, and Jackson Wang, your best friend, is balls deep inside of you. You squeeze your eyes closed, overwhelmed by the sudden and intense sensations and emotions.

“Are you okay? Feels okay, baby?” he asks softly, clearly restraining himself. You nod, licking your lips. 

“Mhm. It’s good. So good,” you babble. Jackson chuckles, nodding as he kisses you again. It’s sweeter this time, moreso as he begins to slide out. The drag of his cock makes you shudder, and you clamp your thighs tight around his waist. 

“That’s it,” he hums, leaning down to kiss your cheek. “Lock me up inside you, baby. So fucking pretty.”

You purr in response, arching your back. Jackson takes this as a go ahead, pushing himself up to his palms as he begins to fuck you properly. 

You feel your mouth open in shock as he thrusts rhythmically, the switch between emptiness and fullness making your head spin. Every time his hips smack the backs of your thighs, another grunt escapes his mouth, and fuck if you couldn’t listen to that sound for the rest of your life. 

Jackson leans down and kisses you. This time, you make sure it’s not as sweet, sucking his tongue and letting him lick yours. You taste his groan as he bucks heavily, pausing to collect himself. Your legs hook around his waist, heel digging into his lower spine, making him moan. 

“F-Fuck baby, gonna make me come already,” he breathes, letting his head hang down. You smile, cupping his face and pulling him into you. 

“So sensitive,” you purr. Jackson huffs.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” he hums, wincing at his own sharp thrust. “Maybe I should pull out and leave that gorgeous head to wonder what it’d be like.”

“You won’t,” you reply, calling his bluff. “If I begged you, I bet you’d go raw.”

Jackson surges forward, hands moving behind your knees as he folds you nearly in half. You choke on air and look up at him, wondering why the fuck you've forced yourself to wait for this.

“You don’t have to beg for shit. Don’t fucking tempt me, y/n.”

Your mouth opens at his tone, but he begins to fuck you harder, gripping your form against him as he gives you everything he has. Your whines turn into muffled cries as he tucks your face into his shoulder. 

“Shh…let’s not let the neighbors know I’m finally inside you baby…that’s it, quietly…take it for me, yeah?” he hums, and you whimper, digging your nails into his skin. Your legs bounce uselessly where he holds them in place, giving him room to be flush against your ass each time he bottoms out. 

“Can’t wait for you to let me lick this sweet little cunt until you cry,” he murmurs, leaning back to slip a hand between you. You jump when he immediately finds your clit, index and middle finger repeatedly alternating pressure. He’s a god damned expert, and you feel yourself clenching tight around the obstruction of his cock. 

“Fuck…is that all it takes? You’re squeezing me like a fucking vice, y/n," Jackson groans. “More, baby. That’s it…fuck. So fucking good.”

“J-Jackson,” you huff, squirming beneath the pressure of his weight. “Nng…f-feels so good…”

“Yeah, princess? Just like you've dreamed about?"

Fuck. He always knew, knew you too well, were you made of glass?

"Y-yeah," you whimper, choosing not to lie. "B-Better."

Jackson kisses you again, his hand slowing its movements to match his hips. 

“Show me,” he says roughly, obviously close himself. “I wanna feel you cum, baby. Want my cock shiny and sticky like my tongue was.”

“Mm..don’t stop, ‘m close,” you breathe. You tuck your hands into his hair, tugging at the strands, knowing what kind of response you’d experience. He groans, as expected, though pulls back and pushes your thighs apart. 

He looks down at your cunt swallowing his cock whole as he rubs at your hooded clit, cursing and biting his lip. Your cheeks flush despite everything, and when his eyes flicker to your face—you’re not sure what to call that expression if not love. 

You want him to cum first. You bring his hand away from your clit and up to your lips, kissing the wet pads of his fingers before slipping them into your mouth. Jackson lets out a high pitched noise that you can’t wait to tease him over later as he watches you suck them. 

He swallows and leans forwards, pulling your fingers away from your mouth to kiss you. You think it’s an accident, the intimacy, but the kiss is soft, so soft that he stops thrusting and you stop trying to make him cum, so soft that you’re suddenly crying and hugging him and apologizing for being a fucking idiot. 

“Hey, ‘s okay baby, I’m here,” he whispers, his own eyes wet. “Stop crying, y/n. I’m right here. I’m yours. I’ll still be yours tomorrow. Shh...”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you breathe, burying your head against his throat despite the fact that his cock is kissing the opening of your cervix currently. “I was scared, Jackson, so fucking scared, I-I think I loved you so much that I scared myself into thinking I couldn’t.”

“Huh?” he asks, knowing damn well what you said according to the stupid grin on his face. You roll your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe at your tears. 

“I said I love you, asshole,” you whisper, sniffling. “And ‘m not gonna say it again.”

“Okay,” he chuckles, pulling your hands down to wipe your tears himself. “Fine. I’ll just memorize the way you sound when you say it and play it over and over until we live in a nursing home together."

"You roll your eyes, smiling through the teariness. Only you would cry in the middle of sex, but Jackson seemed to love this, taking it as your not-so-silent confession. 

He eventually shifts again, making you shudder despite the fact that he was only getting comfortable. He prepares to ask—you already know—want me to stop? So you shake your head before he gets the words out. 

“I want it, you know, without,” you say instead, shyly looking up at him from your elbows. Jackson looks a little confused, and you sigh, gesturing around as if that’s helpful at all. “You know. Without.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying, pie—”

“I’m saying I want you to fuck me, and then I want you to tell me you love me so I can say it back without dying, and then I want to go to the pharmacy with you and get plan b even though I’m on birth control because we’d make cute babies but I wanna wait like 10 years probably. So, like, without? If you want?”

You finish your monologue, your cheeks burning hot. You flop to your back and cover your face, once again forgetting about the cock buried inside of you. Jackson doesn’t, of course.

“Are you asking me to hit it raw—”

“Must you be so unromantic—”

“Shut up and c’mere,” he mumbles. He leans down, pulling you up enough to kiss you. You feel him shuffling between you, embarrassed by the gasp that slips out when he pulls back. Jackson smirks. There’s a snap of rubber and he winces as he removes the condom, tossing it into his desk trash can. 

“Easy, baby. He’ll be back,” he chuckles. 

“I’m actually going to kill you,” you groan. But then he’s pushing into you again, and fuck if the look on his face doesn’t make you want to buy a first class ticket to hell. 

“Fucking…jesus…baby…” he gasps. You giggle, though he just pushes you back to hide the apparent blush on his cheeks. 

“That bad huh?” you mock him, feeling him bottom out, completely. He curses and dips his head to kiss you, but it’s messy and desperate and feeds the fire that’s been burning inside of you for too long. 

“So fucking…nng…so fucking pretty,” he says with a sharp snap of his hips. You gasp, clinging to his shoulders as he leans down. He kisses you again, hard, palms flattening on the bed on either side of your hips. He uses the leverage to fuck you harder, leaning over you until you’re pinned beneath him. 

“D-Didn’t know it’d turn you into an animal,” you giggle breathlessly, hand fisting his hair. He groans and tilts his head to the side. 

“You turn me into a fucking animal, baby,” Jackson grunts. “Makes me…makes me want to do stupid things, like fuck you without a condom and cum so deep the pill doesn’t do shit to stop it—”

“Jackson—”

“You said it first. Still gonna make you swallow the pill with my cum dripping down your thighs.”

You squeak and tug him down for a filthy kiss, tongues barely missing the mark as his thrusts become loose and sloppy. He’s fucking himself dumb, gripping the sheets and whining against your mouth like a dog. 

“G-Gotta make you cum. Gotta make it good for you,” he breathes, reaching between you. You pull his hand away, shaking your head. He begins to argue but you squeeze your thighs around his waist, making him shudder and stumble. He falls against you, cursing into your hair as he continues his thrusts. 

“Want you to cum first,” you whisper, hugging him tight. “Want you to fill me up like you said, so fucking deep—"

He groans, leaning on you and thrusting heavy as he snaps his hips forward. His speed remains the same, but you can hear the sound of his hips meeting your ass like he's trying to bury himself in you indefinitely.

"T-That's...fuck..." you whimper, nodding. "Good, that's good."

“Ah…ah…” Jackson whines, shaking his head. “F-Fuck, baby…gonna cum, is that…is that okay? Fucking…ah…c-can I cum?”

Oh. Oh.

You were going to explore this later, him asking permission to cum. But not now. 

“Please, Jax. Please cum for me, in me?” you beg softly. “Promise, I’ll take it so good."

“Fuck, I know you will, princess. Know you’ll take it all so good for me…so perfect, so fucking beautiful…all mine, baby…”

Jackson clings to you so tight you have trouble breathing, but you feel him shudder, hear him gasp, and you squeeze him back just as much. He releases a sob into your hair, his muscles tensing as he cums hard. You feel his cock pulsing, the warmth spreading inside of you, and realize with a start that you’re feeling his actual cum seeping into your womb. 

You rub his back for a few minutes while he recovers, until he finally sits up and hisses at the sensitivity of his softening cock still buried in you. When he tugs away, it’s your turn to gasp, shivering at the cool emptiness you feel. 

“Was that okay?” he asks quietly, hands pushing your thighs apart. You nod. 

“Yeah, ‘s good. What are you—shit.”

Jackson knelt between your legs, lips first kissing your clit before he sucks it into his mouth. You all but scream, trying to clamp your legs together, but his easy strength prevents that. 

“F…Jackson...fuck, w-what are you doing?” you whimper again, trying to push yourself up to look at him. He uses a hand on the soft of your belly, pushing you back down. He pops off of your clit, free hand taking over the strokes. 

“My babygirl didn’t cum. I’m gonna make sure she does,” he explains as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“B-But you…your cum…”

“Mhm, keep reminding me,” he moans, tongue slipping beneath the hood of your clit while two long fingers prod at your sore hole. You wince, but he slowly eases them in, his own cum working as lube. Rather than move them, he holds them there, gently stroking inside of your walls while he laps freely between your labia. 

In a frighteningly short amount of time, you’re coming off the bed (literally) with a cry of surprise, mumbling his name over and over again as though he could save you from the crushing pleasure you felt. Your thighs clamped around his head, though he made no move to escape, apparently right where he wanted to be as it allowed him to continue sucking and licking the sensitive bundle of nerves until your legs trembled violently. 

It stole your breath, and you saw stars, mixed in a few moments later with a boyish grin and someone peppering your face with kisses. It was the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had, definitely if you were comparing him to other men. Well. There was no comparison. 

You could only imagine how it'd feel with his cock as deep as it was. Next time. You'd suck his cock, cum on it...maybe make him beg to do the same.

Jackson is patient enough to wait until you’ve mostly returned to your body before he smugly proclaims that he was right, the sex was great, and you owe him a backrub (don’t you usually have to make bets to win them in the first place?) but whatever, because you were fucked out and your boy was happy and probably planning your wedding. 

But once you attempted to sit up, wincing at the soreness of keeping your legs open, Jackson kissed you sweetly and urged you to lie down again. He left for a few minutes, returning with boxers (darn it) and a bottle of water, which he forced you to sip whilst he ran you a bath. 

You were helped down the hall, feeling like a frail old lady after you insisted you could do it—and had to catch yourself by the doorframe as you walked like a baby deer. You informed him it wasn’t polite to laugh at people you’ve nearly fucked to death, regretting your words immediately as a somehow cocky Jackson became even cockier. 

He guided you into the bath, telling you to relax while he ran to the pharmacy. Before he left though, he knelt beside the tub, fingers tapping at the lava-like water you were soaking in.

“Do you like the smell?” he asks, resting his chin on his fist. You nod, letting your fingers find his and trying to pull them beneath the water. He compromised by pulling yours out, kissing the back of your knuckles. “Good. It’s strawberry scented.”

“Fucking me doesn’t make my bath bombs free real estate,” you say pointedly.

“Fucking me doesn’t make my clothes free real estate.”

You open your mouth, then purse your lips. 

“Touche.”

“I have something to ask,” he sighs, resting his lips on your hand. “It’s really important.”

Oh god. What. 

“Yeah?” you ask, your voice shaky. Jackson grins. 

“Just…did you like my cream, pie?”

You stare at him for a few seconds, contemplating the last hour and four years of your life. “I want a divorce.”

“I love you.”

“How…how long have you thought of that joke?” you ask. You didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Um…about 20 seconds after I called you pie for the first time? Not with you of course.”

“Well why in the god damn hell not with me!?”

“I mean? Yes with you?”

“Creep.”

“I love you.”

“I still want a divorce.”

“I still love you.”

“Nng.”

“That means I love you in worm?”

“...Yeah.”

“Heh~”

“Hey Jackson?”

“Mm?”

“Your lil sperms might be kinda fast? So like? Maybe leave now? I do love you but I will not have your babies right now?”

“Oh. Yeah. Be right back. Try not to make a baby with those in the meantime, they’re not ripe yet, you know?”

"...Hurry."

[kpopimaginings]

Jackson Wang - Ride me? (NSFW)

A/N: Got a request for some more Jackson on here, so I finally finished this story I started about 3 years ago!

Jackson had had a long day and you knew this. It wasn't a surprise to you that after a quick hello and a kiss he headed straight to the bedroom. What was a surprise was entering it later and finding him still awake. "What's up baby?" you asked him. "Can't sleep?"

You sat beside him and ran your hand through his hair soothingly.

He shook his head. "I want sex."

You were taken aback by his blunt words.

"You look like you want sleep."

"Ride me?" he asked, giving a pout and his irresistible puppy eyes.

"Really?"

He honestly looked to you like he'd fall asleep before either of you climaxed.

"I've missed you. It feels like so long since we were together and I kept getting distracted thinking about you today."

"I can lay with you and cuddle while you fall asleep?" you offered.

Jackson just looked up at you with a pout and his puppy eyes you loved so much. He ran a hand up and down your thigh.

"Please?" he asked again, his hand wandering slowly higher and higher.

"You are far too persuasive, Jackson Wang," you sighed, causing a bright smile to appear on your boyfriends face.

He swiftly pulled you so were straddling him and brought your lips together. You couldn't help but giggle into the kiss at how eager Jackson was despite his sleepy state.

"Baby," you mumbled against his lips and he just hummed in response. "I'm wearing far too many clothes for this," you finished, pulling back slightly.

It was Jackson's turn to let out a laugh this time, releasing his grip on you so that you could shed your clothes. He lazily threw back the covers so that you could join him under them. That was when you noticed that he was already naked and semi hard.

"You really are keen, aren't you?" you teased before climbing back on top of him.

He just grinned up at you, before pulling you back down to connect your lips once more. One of his hands threaded through your hair while the other splayed out against your back, keeping you as close as possible.

As your lips were engaged with Jackson's, you slowly began grinding down against him.

"Baby," he moaned, "Feels so good already."

You smiled before kissing him again, continuing your movements to make sure you were both ready before going further.

As you finally slid down onto him, he let out a low moan, his eyes fluttering shut.

You smiled, letting out a happy hum yourself. "Is this what you needed, baby?"

He hummed in confirmation. "Love you," he mumbled out in his half sleepy, half blissed state.

"Love you too," you smiled, capturing his lips in yours and rolling your hips.

Jacksons breath hitched at your movement, so you continued.

"Let me know when you're close, yeah?"

The only reply you got was a nod as he gripped your hips tightly to keep you moving against him. You allowed your hands to roam from his chest around his body, your hips still grinding against him.

Despite his tired state, Jackson was still rocking his hips in time with yours, his hold on your hips so tight it was as though he was worried you may vanish.

"Close, baby," he muttered, screwing his eyes shut.

You leant forward to kiss his lips. "Good," you whispered in his ear, "Let go for me, baby."

The closeness of your body against his, your soft breath against his ear and the continued movement of you hips timed with his was exactly what he needed to reach his high.

With a grunt as his movements stuttered as you kept circling your hips, riding out his high and chasing your own. After finishing yourself, you pushed yourself up again, looking down at your boyfriend. His eyes were still closed as you softly brushed his hair away from his forehead.

"Is that what you needed?"

He nodded and hummed, the only response he had energy to give you.

"I'm just going to clean up and I'll be back to snuggle you," you said as you got up to head to the bathroom.

Upon your return you pulled on the first of Jackson's tshirts you found and were very unsurprised to see his fast asleep in almost the exact position you left him in.

With a small smile, you pressed a kiss to his cheeks before snuggling into him to drift off yourself.

NAVIGATION  |  GOT7 MASTERLIST

[spacequokka]

In My Bed

Pairing: bf!Jackson x Reader Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Suggestive Rating: M Summary: Jackson fell asleep when he planned to surprise you. Word Count: 0.7k, Request Warnings: dry-humping

After a grueling day at work, all you wanted to do once you got home was shower and get in bed. The never-ending stream of conference calls and meetings punctuated with answering emails left you drained mentally and physically. However, when you opened the front door and spotted a familiar pair of sneakers sitting on the shoe rack, you were immediately invigorated.

Jackson was home!

You all but dropped your stuff on the bench as you kicked off your shoes. It was quiet save for the hum of the ice maker in the freezer. Maybe he was asleep? You tiptoed down the hallway and sure enough, the light of your life was laid out across the bed on his stomach using his arms as a pillow. His expression was a picture of serenity as he snuggled your favorite hoodie. Your heart swelled with affection. How does he continue to surprise you with his cute little habits?

There was no telling how long he’d been home, but you needed your hugs and kisses. You crawled over to his side and laid beside him, gently prying his hands away from his head then forcing your way against his chest. In the midst of your shuffling, he woke up groggy and sluggish as he registered what was going on.

“You’re home?” He blinked slowly, then looked at the window. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost five.” Seeing as he was awake, there was no point in being gentle. You rolled him over onto his side and pulled his arms around you. His scent filled your nose, and you sagged with relief, savoring his warmth. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be home today? I would’ve met you at the airport.”

He chuckled at your whiny tone as he drew you close and planted a kiss on your forehead. “I wanted to surprise you. Actually,” he drew back and kissed your lips, “I wanted to show up at your job and take you out for lunch. I guess I underestimated how tired I was and how much I missed our bed.”

You forced a pout, just barely keeping yourself from smiling. “The bed? What about me?”

“Oh, hush. You know I hate being away from you this long.” He hid his face in your neck. “Why do you insist on being all strong and independent? You could come with me! See the world and join the mile high club and stuff.”

You laughed. “Why do I get the feeling the sex is the motivating factor?”

“No, no. It’s a perk. A bonus, if you will.” He kissed your neck, letting his lips linger. “The motivation is having my beautiful girlfriend with me. It’d be so much better if I could wake up with you in my arms.”

You squirmed against him when his teeth skimmed over your sensitive skin. “I’d ruin your image and hurt your sales.” You bit your lip when his fingers pressed into your skin, holding you still as he put his thigh between yours. “Ah, shit. Wait, Jackie. I need a shower.”

His chuckle made it clear that wouldn’t be happening. “Performing isn’t my only source of income, baby. I can stand to lose a few, especially if it means I get access to you when I get off the stage.” He groaned and pressed his hips against you, drawing your attention to his growing excitement. “It’s been too long since I last had you.”

“But I wanna be squeaky clean for you.” Your squirming only served to increase the friction between your bodies, coaxing him to return the favor by rolling his hips and grinding his erection into your stomach. “Jack, please.”

“Ugh, I hear you.” He loosened his hold. “But if you need one, then so do I.”

With the haze of desire messing with your mind, it took you a minute to process his words. “If we slip and fall in the shower, it’s your fault.”

He smiled wide with glee as he hauled himself to his feet. He held his hand out to you, ignoring the tent that had formed. “I’ll make sure to take the worst of it. Now come on, I need you now before I bust in my pants.”

[kathaelipwse]

"You Can’t Hide From Us"

Pairing: Jackson x GN!Reader x BamBam

Genre: FWB! Sick Comfort

Synopsis: The reader has been avoiding Jackson and BamBam, trying to hide how sick they are. But the boys find them anyway—and they’re not happy about it. Cue clingy, domestic fluff as they take care of their stubborn FWB.

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2.0k

You should have known they’d come looking for you.

Jackson and BamBam weren’t exactly the type to respect boundaries—not with you, at least. Being their friends-with-benefits (emphasis on the friends part) meant they were all up in your business, whether you liked it or not.

So the fact that you had been ignoring their texts and calls for the past few days? Yeah. That wasn’t going to fly.

Still, you tried.

You locked your doors, silenced your phone, and buried yourself under layers of blankets in your dimly lit apartment, fighting off the fever that had settled deep in your bones. Every movement felt sluggish, your head pounding with the force of a thousand drumbeats. But no way in hell were you going to call them.

You didn’t need them to worry.

You didn’t need them to see you like this.

Unfortunately for you, Jackson and BamBam didn’t need an invitation to break into your life—literally.

The knock at your front door was loud and insistent.

"Honey! Open up!" BamBam’s voice rang through the silence of your apartment.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing them away.

Another knock. Harder this time.

Jackson’s voice, firmer, laced with suspicion: "We know you’re in there. Stop ignoring us."

You groaned, curling deeper into your blanket cocoon. Maybe if you stayed silent, they’d just—

Click.

Your front door swung open, the cons of giving them your apartment keys.

Shit.

You peeked out from under your blanket just as the two men stepped inside, their expressions shifting from annoyed to concerned the moment they saw you.

"Oh, hell no," BamBam muttered, his usual teasing lilt replaced with something softer.

Jackson crossed the room in three long strides, his eyes narrowing as he took in your pale skin, glassy eyes, and the way you shivered despite the warmth of your apartment.

Without a word, he crouched down beside you, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead. His lips immediately pressed into a tight line.

"You’re burning up," he said, voice dangerously low.

You tried to shrug weakly, but BamBam was already climbing onto the couch beside you, poking at your cheek. "How could you hide this from us?!"

"I—" Your throat burned as you tried to speak, and you coughed into your sleeve instead.

"No. Nope. Shut up." Jackson stood, hands on his hips like an angry mother. "We’re not doing this. You’re sick, and you thought it was a good idea to suffer alone?"

You opened your mouth—to lie, to downplay it, to make an excuse—but BamBam wasn’t having it.

With zero hesitation, he wrapped himself around you, effectively trapping you under his weight. "Guess what? You’re stuck with us now."

"Get off me, you menace," you croaked, but your voice was too weak to sound threatening.

Jackson, unimpressed, simply bent down and—without warning—scooped you up into his arms.

"Jackson—!" you wheezed, but he was already carrying you to your bedroom.

BamBam followed, dramatically clutching his chest. "You should’ve told us, babe. We would've come over days ago."

Jackson set you down gently, pulling the covers up to your chin before sitting on the edge of your bed, arms crossed. "From now on, if you’re sick, you call us. Got it?"

BamBam leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours with an exaggerated pout. "Got it, baby?"

You scowled, but the warmth of their presence—their concern, their ridiculous yet oddly comforting energy—was already breaking through the feverish haze in your mind.

"Fine," you muttered.

BamBam grinned.

Jackson sighed in relief.

And just like that, you lost your right to be left alone.

Jackson took the kitchen.

You heard him rummaging through your cabinets, muttering about "Where the hell is their ginger?" and "I swear, if they don’t have soup ingredients, I’m buying groceries and force-feeding them."

BamBam took the job of “emotional support.”

Which really meant he was laying next to you, playing with your hair, and dramatically sighing every few minutes.

"You really thought you could avoid us?" He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his teasing tone softer than usual. "You think we wouldn’t notice?"

Your throat was too sore to argue, so you just nudged him weakly with your elbow.

He gasped, clutching his chest. "They still have the energy to bully me. They must be getting better."

You would’ve rolled your eyes if they weren’t so heavy.

Twenty minutes later, Jackson returned with a bowl of homemade soup.

You stared at it. "That looks… suspicious."

BamBam, peering over your shoulder, snorted. "Did you poison them?"

Jackson shot him a deadpan look before turning back to you. "Shut up and eat."

You took a tentative sip. It was… actually decent? Maybe a little strong on the ginger, but warm and comforting nonetheless.

"Okay, it’s not bad," you admitted.

Jackson smirked, smug as ever. "Told you."

BamBam, meanwhile, tried a spoonful and fake gagged. "Ugh, what is this? Medicine?"

Jackson shoved him. "It’s soup, dumbass. Go eat instant ramen if you don’t appreciate my cooking."

Despite the teasing, the room felt soft—warmer than it had been all day.

Hours later, when your fever had lowered slightly, you found yourself half-asleep between them.

Jackson was seated against the headboard, his fingers lazily running up and down your arm. BamBam was curled into your side, one hand still tangled in your hair.

It was… comfortable. Too comfortable.

Maybe that’s why the words slipped out before you could stop them.

"Didn’t want to bother you guys."

Jackson stilled, his fingers pausing for just a second before resuming their slow, soothing motion. "You’re not a bother."

BamBam shifted, his face now dangerously close to yours, voice soft in a way you weren’t used to. "You know that, right?"

Your chest tightened—but this time, it wasn’t because of the fever.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Then, Jackson sighed, pressing a feather-light kiss to your forehead.

BamBam nuzzled closer, his breath warm against your cheek.

And just like that, your defenses crumbled completely.

Maybe you were too tired to keep pretending. Maybe you didn’t want to anymore.

Either way, you let your eyes flutter shut, breathing in the scent of them—cologne, warmth, something unmistakably Jackson and BamBam.

And as sleep finally pulled you under, you missed the way they glanced at each other over your head.

Missed the way BamBam murmured, "Dude, we’re screwed."

And Jackson, running a hand through his hair, exhaling softly: "Yeah… we like them too much, don’t we?"

---

[mykoreanlove]

Acts of intimacy

Eyes shot open as you woke up from your slumber. It took you a minute to realize where you were. This was not your room, not your bed, not the scent of your home but everything fell into place as memories of last night clouded your vision.

Jackson and you ended up at his place, getting to know each other on a whole new level. Greedy kisses, lustful touches and heavy moans filled his walls for hours, until the two of you were too exhausted and had to take a break.

From the moment you met him you assumed he was a passionate lover but he outdid all the expectations you had of him. He did his hair style justice as he showed you his two prominent sides: the dark, dominating, hard one and the light, romantic, intimate one. Jackson was far from ordinary, but so were you.

And now he was laying behind you, still sound asleep. You felt his naked body on yours. Memories of you kissing every ab of his followed by sucking him off made you blush.

Suddenly, Jackson shifted and hugged you, pulling you closer to him. His big hands held you tightly, just like they did last night. You swore you could still feel his grip on your hips, the skin would definitely be bruised. He caught you by surprise as he murmured in his sleep. You couldn’t understand a word, you were too preoccupied with the deep tone of his voice anyway. You adored his voice, especially when he used it to demean you.

„You like being fucked like that? What a bad whore you are.“

Just thinking about it made you wet. Jackson must have sensed it as he slowly woke up, too. His voice was even raspier than before.

„Baby, are you up?“

You nodded.

Jackson felt you up and stopped at your tits, kneading them thoroughly. „I can’t believe what we did last night“, he chuckled amused. You felt his cock grow hard again, pressing into you. „Fuck, I want to go again but I’m so tired. Are you?“

His voice was soft and deep from exhaustion. You placed your hand on his and guided him down to your pussy, making him feel your wetness. Jackson sucked in his breath, less exhausted now.

„Baby, you’re insatiable“, he whispered into your ear as he played with your pussy. Circling, sliding, stretching - he was finger fucking you, making you melt within seconds. You grabbed his wrist for stability as you buckled your hips, loud moans escaped your pretty lips once more.

„Fuck, you’re so good for me. My sweet little whore.“

And with that you came all over him, again. Jackson smiled into your neck, leaving small kisses on your damp skin.

„I really like making you feel good like that, y/n. Can you make me feel good, too?“

You would have done anything for him. Quickly, you wanted to turn around but felt him blocking you moving.

„Stay that way. I want to slide into you from behind and… sleep within you. Is that ok?“

You giggled at the idea. „Your dick wants to sleep in my pussy. Is that it?“

Jackson nodded. „Please. Keep it warm in your pretty tight hole for me.“

You pressed your ass against his hips, signaling him to do it. Jackson let out a deep grunt as he pushed himself in you easily, your pussy was welcoming him dearly with your warmth and wetness. „God, you have no idea how good that feels“, he praised you once more.

For him, this wasn’t a kind of cockwarming, no to him this was an act of intimacy - something he craved dearly and finally found in you. You moved your hips, unsure if he had found the best position yet.

Jackson’s hands landed on your hips immediately, holding you in place firmly. „If you keep moving like that we won’t be sleeping anytime soon, Princess. Give me some time to refuel, okay? I promise I’ll make you scream my name before breakfast.“

[leftoverpizzasauce]

— ‹𝟹 worth the trip.

jackson wang x reader

summary: after a year-long hiatus, jackson struggles to balance his return to work with how much he misses you.

other jackson texts: baby love

[kcake555]

Jackson cake 🍰

got7

[huihuiheart]

Idol As Your S/O Series - Jackson - NSFW Ver

Navigation

Got7 Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Requested: No

Warnings: NSFW Themes Below Cut

SFW:

How did they fall in love?

He’s the type to take his time falling, but who others easily fall for. He likely will know he loves you for a while but doesn’t let himself really fall until he knows you better. It’s not a time thing, but more of a how well you know one another thing.

PDA Level: 7/10

PDA in more of a romantic and gentlemanly gestures type of way than in a super touchy-feely type of way.

Gift Type:

Flowers, like constantly. The type to keep one from the bouquet so that he knows when you need a fresh one. I can also see him buying you clothes and accessories, but usually while you’re out together.  He’s the one buying what catches your eye.

They surprise you/try to surprise you how?

He can do both, private dinners and elaborate parties. You’re not going to have a clue either way though, man knows what he is doing.

Favorite scent on you:

As cliché as it sounds, his. He is absolutely obsessed with you wearing his scent. The man cannot get enough of it.

What is your home like?

I get very rich boy modern mansion vibes from him. I mean where better for parties, but your private spaces such as the bedroom are much warmer and cozier. Those spaces are definitely more personalized for the two of you.

Day in:

Days in are just for the two of you. Time to relax and just be absorbed in one another’s presence. Will somewhat plan these out in that if things have been rough he’s making sure you both have a day off for this.

Casual Day Out:

Typically lunch and shopping. Aka an at-your-own-pace outing. He finds that it's good for talking, but also if either of you needs a change of topic you have plenty around you since you’re out somewhere. It helps things remain comfortable while encouraging communication.

Night Out:

Something lively like a club. This man loves a good party and falling in love won’t change that. It just means that he wants to party with his lover now.

Vacation:

He seems like the city type, but he does well at mixing classing cities like Paris and lively modern cities like New York. He’ll keep you on your toes with which type you’ll end up in. After all, he’s not one to be considered boring.

NSFW Below:

NSFW:

What was the first time like?

He is such a gentleman. So constant check-ins and such. He knows exactly what he’s doing, but he’s ensuring you go at your pace. Even if that means only foreplay one night and so on, this man is bending to your comfort.

Romance Level:

About 50/50 depending on his mood. Now afterward he’s always a romantic, but in the heat of the moment, you might be in for more spice than sugar.

Favorite Position:

Anything where he can see your face, he likes being able to visually check in on you. He likes gripping your jaw to make sure that you’re looking at him.

Dom/Sub/Switch:

Switch. This man does it all and he does it well!!!! He seems like he’d have a slight dom lean, but I’d say he’s like 60/40.

What is it usually like?

Very passionate, the man cannot keep his hands off you. He seems like the type to be switching up positions all of the time. Multiple rounds are very much the norm with him.

Gift type sexy edition:

Lingerie and toys. Like lots and lots of both. Though to be honest it is definitely for the both of you. 

How do they spice things up?

Toys and bondage in any combination imaginable. With the collection that he had gotten you both it’s not likely you’ll have a repeat anytime soon either. 

Unexpected at first: 

Anal. He was hesitant for a few reasons, but to be honest he loves your ass so much that it really doesn’t take him long or much convincing to give in.

Don’t Expect:

While he is the type to play around with pain and degradation he is never truly mean. He always balances it out well and he’s like the same in return. That being said he is okay taking a bit more than he gives.

Almost Always:

Teasing. This man wants to go all night and part of making that happen is teasing. Part of that is also multiple orgasms... for both of you.

[sleekervae]

Solo Mode [1] jackson wang x fem!oc

Masterlist

A/N: I've had this idea knocking around in my brain for a while, never had the push to write it until Jackson started releasing music again. It's my little birthday gift for myself ☺️ Lemme know what you think!

Pairing: jackson wang/fem!oc

Summary: He's an international pop star trying to outrun burnout. She's a sharp-tongued software engineer who doesn't do feelings. What starts as a no-strings arrangement quickly unravels into something messier, softer, and realer than either of them planned. Between chaotic breakfasts, late-night confessions, and breaking every rule they set, Jackson and Heather find themselves in deep — and neither of them knows how to stop it.

Warnings: strong language, alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.7k

Heather had been staring at her screen so long her eyes felt like they’d been rubbed raw with sandpaper.

A single red error message blinked in the corner of her code editor like a middle finger. She typed something, rewrote it, deleted it, then typed it again with more force—like that would make the compiler less of a bitch.

The fix was so close. She could feel it.

This patent meant everything. Years of development. Her own codebase. Her design. Her algorithm. Her name. She was going to stamp that shit into tech history if it killed her—and given the four hours of sleep she was running on, it might.

Her tea was cold. Again.

She shoved the cup aside and reached for her headphones, already resigned to another night of silence and circuits.

Then came the bass.

A low, rhythmic thump, like a heartbeat made of bad decisions, started pulsing through her wall.

Heather paused, jaw tightening.

She waited. Sometimes it was just a one-song thing—someone testing a speaker. A music cue for a home workout. A tragic attempt at a sex playlist. She could forgive that.

The song ended.

Another one started.

Louder.

This one had more bass. Thicker vocals. A synth loop that could drill straight into her skull.

Heather yanked off her headphones. Waited.

Male voices joined the music—shouting, laughing. Someone belted a high note and knocked straight into a wall. She heard the distinct clatter of something heavy hitting the floor.

Her eye twitched.

She stared at her code like she could will the function to solve itself. She counted to ten. Counted again. Then shoved her headphones back on and turned up her white noise generator until it hissed like static in her skull.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen.

The wall thumped again.

“Fuck me,” she muttered, slamming her laptop shut.

She marched to the wall and slapped it with her palm. “Shut the fuck up!”

A chorus of mocking laughter greeted her back. The music didn’t stop.

Heather turned in a slow, surgical circle, walked to her front door, yanked it open, and stalked barefoot into the hallway like a vengeance demon in a hoodie. The hallway bulb flickered overhead, as always, and the noise spilled clearer from the apartment next to hers.

5D.

Of course it was 5D. The asshole with the luxury vinyl door mat and people shuffling in and out at all hours of the morning. She’d hardly seen his face. She didn’t care to. Whoever he was, he partied too much, wore too much cologne, and had the kind of deep-pocket PR budget that covered noise complaints like napkins on spilled liquor.

She knocked once.

Nothing.

She banged again. Harder.

The music cut mid-drop.

Muffled voices argued. Something about “just open the fucking door, bro, she’s gonna call the super.”

It swung open.

And standing there—shirt undone, chain glinting, black silk clinging to smooth, a jaw line sharp enough to cut glass, inked skin and an expression too drunk to care—was him.

Heather froze. He smiled, lazy and stupid and pretty. One brow quirked like she’d shown up to amuse him.

“Hey,” he said, drawl thick with booze. “You lost?”

“No,” she snapped, arms crossing. “I’m working. Or I was. Until you and your frat house remix session decided 3 a.m. was prime time for a rave.”

He blinked. Then laughed, low and hoarse and a little off-balance.

“You’re the girl next door.”

“And you're my drunken idiot neighbour.”

He leaned against the doorframe like it might start spinning.

“You always this mean?”

“You always this fucking loud?”

“Only when I have a good time.” he shot back. “You should try working during the day like a normal person.”

Heather’s smile went razor-sharp.

“You should try choking on glass.”

He laughed again, like she was a feature not a bug. “You’ve got a mouth on you.”

“You’ve got ten seconds to shut the music off or I make this an HOA issue.”

“Ooh,” he teased, dragging the word. “Miss Murder Eyes wants to file a complaint.”

“Miss Murder Eyes wants to burn your speaker system to ash.”

He looked like he was about to say something else—something smug—but someone inside the apartment yelled his name and he turned halfway, distracted.

Heather didn’t wait.

She turned on her heel and walked back to her apartment, slamming her door so hard the frame shook.

The music didn’t come back on.

But she knew—knew—this wasn’t the last time she’d have to deal with that walking, talking, open-shirted migraine.

The elevator doors creaked open with all the enthusiasm of a Monday hangover. Heather stepped in, hoodie swallowed around her like a fabric shield, socked feet tucked into Adidas slides, legs bare and chilled under the fabric of worn athletic shorts. She looked like what she was: an exhausted, overcaffeinated, over-it woman one microsecond away from flaying the next person who so much as breathed too loudly.

Unfortunately, the next person was already inside the elevator.

Her fucking neighbour.

Slouched in one corner like a cover model for "Too Cool to Care," he wore a zip hoodie hanging open over a rumpled black tank, grey sweats slung too low on hips that had no business being that sculpted, and—of course—sunglasses. Indoors. At 8:07 a.m.

Her eye twitched. “Are you seriously wearing sunglasses inside?”

He tilted his head lazily toward her. “Heather, right? Good morning to you, too.”

“That wasn’t an answer.”

He yawned. Loudly. “I’m hungover. Lights are loud. Your voice is louder.”

Heather jabbed the lobby button harder than necessary. “You're giving 'douchebag' all too well.”

He didn’t blink. Might’ve been the glasses. “That’s funny. Coming from the woman who looks like she woke up after an adderall bender.”

“Fuck you.”

"Not with that attitude."

"Then choke on glass."

He grinned, teeth too white for someone claiming to be that hungover. “Nice go-to. You serving it plain, or should I expect a cube or two for garnish?”

She side-eyed him, deadpan. “I’ll chill the whole damn shard for you.”

He chuckled, low and smug. “Spicy this early in the morning. Adorable.”

She didn’t answer, just crossed her arms tighter across her chest and stared at the floor numbers ticking down too slowly for her liking. The silence stretched thick with mutual annoyance.

“I gotta say though,” Jackson said, breaking it anyway, “you do grumpy better than anyone I’ve met.”

Heather’s jaw tensed. “You’re lucky I don’t code viruses for sport.”

He made a dramatic show of clutching his chest. “Be still, my tragic heart.”

The elevator dinged. Doors opened.

She stepped out first, refusing to look at him.

Behind her, he called out, “Hey, if you want to carve my death sentence into my door, just ask for my full name.”

Heather flipped him off without turning around.

The building lobby was quiet—thankfully. Heather stepped through the glass doors and into the biting morning air, tugging her oversized red hoodie tighter around her. She was barely awake, hair in a high, messy knot, hoodie half zipped over a sports bra, Adidas shorts just peeking beneath the hem, and black crew socks shoved into plastic slides. Not a look she’d ever choose to be perceived in. But caffeine was life or death.

Her phone buzzed. Order dropped off.

She spotted the delivery guy by the curb with a paper bag in one hand and a cardboard drink tray in the other. She moved to intercept, pulling her hoodie hood further over her head like she could disappear into it.

“Hey—Heather?” the delivery guy asked, glancing between the names on the receipt. “And… Jackson?”

Before she could respond, the door behind her swung open with a gust of warm air and the smell of cologne and regret.

“Yo, that’s me,” came the voice she’d already spent too much of her brainpower hating this week.

She didn’t need to look to know.

Then his eyes—well, probably his eyes—shifted toward Heather. “We really gotta stop meeting like this.”

Heather gawked at him. “You order from Mildew?”

Jackson shrugged, plucking his own iced coffee. “Their cold brew's the only thing stronger than my regrets.”

"-- And a protein wrap." the delivery guy read his order receipt.

"Thank you."

Heather grimaced, “God, even your breakfast order is pretentious.”

The delivery guy awkwardly extended both drink trays. “Uh… you guys want to split this up?”

Heather grabbed hers, iced americano with two caramel shots and a tiny pastry bag. Jackson took his with one hand and tore open the bag like it owed him rent.

“You know,” he said, tearing a bite of rap, “you could’ve just told me you wanted to grab coffee together.”

She scoffed. “I’d rather snort sawdust.”

“Hmm.” He chewed slowly, sunglasses tilted as he clearly scanned her from hoodie to socks. “Is that your way of saying this is your morning look? ‘Unapproachable with a hint of homicide’?”

She took a sip of her drink and stared him down over the lid. “This is the look of someone who works. Unlike you, I’m guessing.”

He grinned. “Sweetheart, I work hard enough to afford the noise complaints.”

She turned on her heel. “Try that line again when you’re not dressed like a hungover gym rat.”

Jackson called after her, amused and unapologetic: “Hey! Want me to order you glass with extra ice next time?”

She didn’t bother flipping him off this time. She just hoped the coffee kicked in before she accidentally committed a felony.

Heather cut through the lobby, legs moving with purpose, sipping her coffee like it could save her soul. Her slides slapped the tile with quiet urgency as she beelined toward the elevator. Behind her, she heard Jackson exchange a few pleasantries with the delivery guy—of course he was charming when he wasn’t being a complete walking migraine.

She reached the elevator, thumb jamming the ‘up’ button with a vengeance. A second later, the doors slid open with a slow mechanical sigh.

She stepped inside.

From across the lobby, she heard, “Hold up!”

Nope.

She hit the ‘close door’ button with the kind of speed that could win arcade games. The doors began their slow, deliberate slide inward.

Jackson jogged up, protein wrap still half in his mouth, coffee in hand, sweats slung low on his hips like they were allergic to tension.

“Hey! Heather!” he said around the bite.

She didn’t even look up. Just muttered, “Work hours only, gym rat.”

The doors closed on his groan of disbelief—and, she hoped, his dumb, smug grin.

For the first time that morning, she smiled.

Just a little.

[idolimagines]

I have a request. Will you do a oneshot where it's your wedding day and you have a flashback on how Jackson enlisted the help of all the members to help him setup a treasure hunt proposal? At the end the you're crying happy tears because you are pronounced as husband and wife?

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it.

Title: Mrs. Wang

Genre: Fluff

Word count: 1.5K

The fresh smell of orchids filled your nose as soon as the double doors opened and revealed your grand entrance.

The room was filled with guests consisting of your closest family and friends. It was an elegant and intimate wedding adorned with pearl and satin accents and highlighted with the most beautiful shade of Robin’s egg blue. Several gasps were heard and all eyes were on you as you gracefully began to walk down the aisle to your soon-to-be husband, Mr.Jackson Wang. He stared at you lovingly, tears pooling his eyes at first sight of you in your wedding dress. As you continued to make your way towards him, you couldn’t help but admire his handsome appearance. He was dressed in a classic tuxedo and his chocolate brown hair was swept to the side with gel. Jackson’s thick brows helped highlight the rest of his sharp features, from his deep, dark brown eyes to his plump lips that you were dying to kiss.

As you neared the altar, you spotted Jackson’s best man, Jaebum quietly handing him a small handkerchief as a sign to dry his teary eyes. Jaebum earned a thumbs up from Yugyeom and BamBam who were sitting in the front row along with Jinyoung, Youngjae and Mark. It wasn’t long before Jackson dried his tears and walked down the three small steps to meet you. “You’re so beautiful” he whispered just before taking your hand into his and leading you up the steps to the altar. In that moment you felt like you could turn to mush just seeing how he smiled at you so lovingly. Jackson remembered how nervous you were just the day before seeing as you wanted everything to go perfectly smooth. You had been planning this wedding for months and now that the day was finally here, you hoped your hard work had paid off. However, all negative thoughts instantly vanished as Jackson held both of your hands and gently rubbed his thumbs against your fingers, almost as if to give you that nonverbal reassurance you didn’t know you needed.

The officiant began reciting his usual script just after thanking everyone for coming together to witness the lifelong commitment you and Jackson were about to make. Before you knew it, you were suddenly drowning out the officiant’s voice and taking in every single word your fiance uttered before you. Jackson spoke from the heart, looking you in the eyes as he first mentioned how you took his breath away when he first laid eyes on you all those years ago. He made the crowd laugh when he briefly mentioned having to pull out all his smooth moves on you just to give him your number back in the day. You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as well as you reminisced about your beginning and all the good times you’ve had that led up to this moment.

Jackson bit his bottom lip as he looked at you with tears growing in his eyes again. He bit down on his lip a little too hard, almost as if to stop his voice from shaking before taking a deep breath. “You are my everything,” he added. You looked up at him and smiled while you felt your own tears forming. “I admire you so much.” Jackson said, “You’re the kindest, most loving person I know and I wake up everyday wanting to be the best version of myself because of you. Thank you for always being by my side and I promise to always be by yours. I love you, _____.” 

By this point, tears were cascading down your face before you took a deep breath to begin exchanging your vows. Similarly to Jackson, you declared your infinite love for him and emphasized the impact he has had on your life just as you had his. You spoke of the many moments of laughter and love you two shared throughout the years and made sure to mention just how much he means to you before the officiant continued reciting his script and allowed you two to exchange wedding bands. You watched as Jackson gently placed the band on your finger before locking eyes with you again. After a few more moments, you were suddenly wrapping your arms around his neck as he dipped you and bestowed a kiss just after the coordinator said, “you may kiss your bride.”

The crowd erupted with cheers and chants in celebration of your new milestone. You stood at the altar with Jackson hand in hand, taking in the special moment as you both faced the crowd. You watched as Jackson’s best friends, or more like brothers in the first row whistled and cheered you two on. It brought a smile to your face as the sight of them reminded you of how you two got to this point in the first place - the proposal. 

You remembered how Jackson had recruited the boys to set up a sort of ‘treasure hunt’ like proposal for you. It started with a sly little note at home, with details and clues of where to find your dress, shoes and accessories Jackson had bought for you for the night. He then had Youngjae drive you to your next destination, which was one of the best hotels in the city. Once you arrived you were greeted by Mark, Yugyeom and Jinyoung and instructed to find more clues that would lead you to the ‘treasure.’ “Guys what is going on,” you would occasionally ask as you followed a trail of rose petals and made your way through the hotel and towards the back door. Throughout your search you would find short love notes and compliments seemingly from Jackson along the way.

“Is this what I think it is?’ You asked with a big smile when you saw Jaebum and BamBam. You could feel your heart pounding as you neared them and noticed BamBam’s mischievous smile. “I don’t know. Only one way to find out,” BamBam chimed as he opened the door for you and motioned for you to continue. You will never forget the butterflies you felt as you exited the back door and found yourself walking along the beach at sunset just before catching sight of Jackson. He was standing before the ocean with his hands clasped together, almost as if he had been just as nervous as you were. He was dressed in a white button down and khaki trousers rolled up to his knees.

“Jackson!” You cheered as you made your way to him a little quicker. “Come here,” he chuckled as he eagerly awaited your arrival. “What are you doing out here?” You giggled as he immediately pulled you in for a hug as soon as you reached him. “I know the beach makes you happy, so I wanted to bring you here,” he answered in a calm tone. You smiled at him before looking out to the ocean, admiring how beautiful it looked as the sun set over it. “Yeah there’s nothing quite like this view,” you hummed. 

“Or you,” Jackson added. “There’s no one quite like you, _____.” He said while admiring you and causing you to look at him once more. You watched as he swiftly reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful ring. “Jackson-” you gasped as he kneeled in front of you. “I mean it, ____. There’s no one else in the world like you. You’re one of a kind and you mean so much to me.” He confessed. Jackson gazed upon your beauty and suddenly became at a loss for words as he began to stumble upon his next thought. “To be honest, I had a whole script planned out in my head, but looking at you now. Wow.” He smiled. “I just can’t think of what else to say now other than I love you. Will you make me the happiest man on Earth and marry me?” 

You gasped as you heard those words come out of his mouth. You had dreamed of this day so long as it was one-step closer to marrying the love of your life. “Yes of course!” You exclaimed before jumping into his arms and kissing him tenderly. You were surprised as fireworks erupted from above and the rest of the boys appeared, shouting and cheering in awe as their best friend was set to marry the one who made his heart full. 

Those same cheers echoed in your mind as you came back to reality and smiled at Jackson’s life-long friends just before he whisked you up and yelled, “This is my wife!” To everyone in excitement. “Oh my gosh,” you laughed at his antics as more cheers erupted. “Already announcing it to the world?” You added. “Yes!” Jackson beamed. “Now, how about we get out of here, Mrs. Wang?” he asked with a grin and you nodded. “Let’s do it-” you barely uttered before Jackson took off with you in his arms and ran down the aisle. You nearly screamed in surprise and held onto him for dear life with your bouquet barely hanging on. You tossed the flowers aside to gain a better grip as Jackson neared the car outside. “Mrs. Wang,” you cooed. “I like the sound of that.”

[midnightstay-blog]

hi! about the prompt list, could you do 6, 21 and 38 for jackson wang? fluff or angst, it's up to you. thx

Sure here you go. 🙂 I hope you like it. I did more of a mix of fluff and angst but it’s mostly fluff. But I don't know if I like the ending. Anyways thanks for requesting.

Tw: mentions of blood and alcohol.

💫Rain & Wounds.💫( Requested)

Angst 🌒 | Fluff 🌙| Gender neutral reader 🌓 | Romance🌹 |Request 💫| Scenario✨

Genre: Jackson Wang x reader

Theme : Friends to lovers

Summary: After an eventful night out with friends things between you and Jackson change forever.

Rating: Pg13

Word Total: 1,898

“Stop moving You’re making things worse for yourself.” You tell Jackson as you try to bandage his hand for the third time. You were out at a club when a guy started hitting on you. You tried to reject him, but he wasn’t in the mood to take no for an answer. Soon it caught the attention of a slightly drunk Jackson and let’s just say things went left from there. The night didn’t start out with him getting in a fight the complete opposite actually. Originally you were supposed to be out celebrating after you got the news that Your book had become a New York times best seller. However, as the night went on the group of friends that y’all were with suggested going clubbing. Fast forward a few hours and now here you are at 3 am in the bathroom of your two-bedroom apartment with medical supplies and a drunk Jackson to look after.

“I’m fine really.” Jackson stated trying to move you out of his way.

“You are far from it actually. “You tell him while placing a hand on his chest and lightly pushing him back towards the counter. “Your hand has a huge gash on it and you’re bleeding on my floor.” You state in a matter-of-fact tone.

For as long as you’ve known him Jackson had always been protective of you. Though you mentioned on multiple occasions that you are in fact grown and can take care of yourself, part of him could never quite let you.

“Oh, please that guy had it coming.” Jackson exclaimed.  Reaching into the first aid kit you grab an alcohol wipe in order to properly clean his wound. Noticing this Jackson quickly removes his hand from your grasp.

Letting out a sigh you grab his hand in an attempt to wipe the wound.

“Give me your hand I have to clean the gash. “Looking between you and the wipe he shakes his begins to shake his head making you roll your eyes.

“Jackson you’re a grown man you should be able to handle an alcohol wipe.” He goes to protest again but before he can you grab his hand wiping the blood from his palm.  He winces at the alcohol begins to work its way through his hand. Shortly after you apply some antibiotic ointment. Eventually the room briefly falls silent as you begin to reach for the gauze and the non-stick pads. Pressing the pad into his hand he winces again as you finish up. Examining your handy work, you instruct him to remove himself from your counter while you clean up your mess. Agreeing he makes his way into the living room. Sometime later you emerge from the bathroom and make your way over to the kitchen. Going over to the fridge you pull out a bottle of wine that you had opened the previous night and set it on the counter before offering him some. With his approval you reach over to your glass cabinet and pull two glasses before joining him on the couch.

For a while you two talk about all different kinds of things from work to friends even his upcoming fashion line. After a while you even started to go down memory lane a bit. “Remember that time you took me to meet BamBam and Yugyeom and he spilled what was it.” You pause snapping your fingers as you recall the memory. “Um… Oh it was lemonade I think strawberry lemonade if I’m not mistaken.” He insists. “Yeah, that’s right because it was a big pitcher of it too.” You said laughing. “Yugyeom ended up knocking the pitcher over and breaking it because he was trying to impress one of the girls at the pool party with this one dance move.” Jackson laughed as he recalled the memory. “And then turns out she had a boyfriend the whole time.”” I felt so bad for him, but man was that funny.” You added. After a while you could feel a slight buzz from the wine starting to take over and for a second you contemplate calling it a night. However, the memory of how you met begins to creep into your mind and you begin to smile.

“What?” Jackson asks noticing the change in your features.

“Nothing I was just thinking about how we met and how lucky I am that we did.” You tell him.

“Oh, please if anything I’m the lucky one. “He tells you.

“How so?” you begin to inquire. Silence falls over you and for a moment you can hear rain begin to fall against your apartment window.

Jackson takes a deep breath before he begins.

“How can I not be?” he admits.  “Your kind and you have a great personality.” “Also, you always look out for the people that you love and you’re there whenever I need you even if I don’t feel like I do.” “Not to mention you bake a mean birthday cake.” He says as he recalls the cake you baked him last year for his birthday. “And you always know what to say in times of crisis.” “You actually care about people not a lot of other people do that.” “Usually, it’s just an everyman for themselves type of deal.” Your smart and not to mention you are beautiful even when you don’t think so at times.”  He adds. “So, believe me when I say that I am very lucky to have you as my friend.”  He finishes. You sit there for a while touched at his beautiful words. “Jackson that was so beautiful thank you.” You say while pulling him in for a hug. You stay like that for a moment before you begin to pull away. Upon pulling away you both pause taking in each other briefly before sharing a kiss. Coming to terms with what is happening you both pull away before Jackson begins to speak once more.

“I love you.” he states. Though hearing it this time it sounds different. You take a moment to soak in his words letting them fully hit you. Soon after you clear your throat before getting up from the couch with you wine glass in hand.

“Your drunk “You exclaim waving your hand dismissively.

“So? “he says.

“So, you don’t mean that. “You say with a pause. “At least not in the way that you think you do.” You tell him.

He stands up from the couch and begins walking over to your kitchen island meeting you by it.

“I mean every word of what I just said to you otherwise I wouldn’t have said it.” He states sadness evident in his tone. Placing your glass in the sink you rinse it out before brushing past him and heading towards your hallway closet. Sometime later you re emerge with a blanket along with a few pillows and place them on the couch.

“It’s late you can sleep of the wine here you tell him as you begin to make up the couch.”

“Why don’t you believe me?” He questions. You stay silent for a bit before continuing. Walking over to you he places his hand over yours stopping you in your tracks.

It’s not that you don’t believe him. In fact, a part of you had always secretly hoped this day would come. You just wanted him to be sure this wasn’t one of those drunken confession things that he would regret later.

“Hey, talk to me what’s going on?” He questions placing his bandaged hand on your cheek. You lightly place a hand on his chest as you begin to softly push him away from you.

“Nothing.” You state placing your hands by your side. “I just- I just think that you should sleep off the wine and if you feel the same in the morning then we’ll talk about it.” You say giving a shrug. Not believing you but also not wanting to push the matter Jackson agrees. Not to long after you exchange goodnights before you make your way to your room and eventually fall asleep.

The next morning you are woken up by the smell of breakfast. For a moment you lay in bed confused before remembering the events of the previous night. Feeling somewhat embarrassed you crawl out of bed and make your way into the living room. There Jackson is stood at your stove making eggs. His shirt is missing but he’s still wearing his pants from the night before. Clearing your throat, you catch his attention before muttering a small “Good morning “and siting at the island. He response with a brief “Morning “before turning his attention back to the stove. “How is your hand? You inquire.

“It’s fine I changed the bandages already.” He states in a dryer tone. “Oh... okay.” And with that a brief and awkward silence befalls you both. Soon he joins you at the island and places your breakfast in front of you. Feeling the awkwardness cling in the air you contemplate addressing the conversation from the previous night. That is until he beats you to it.

“Look about last night.” He chimes. He tries to explain but you manage to cut him off.

“Don’t even worry about it we were both drunk and said/ did somethings that we probably didn’t mean so it’s fine.” You state hoping to save yourself from embarrassment.

“I meant everything I said to you last night.” He expresses. You sit there in a bit of shock. Noticing your state, he continues “When I’m with you it’s like seeing the sun after a week of rain.” “When I look at you, I forget how to speak.” “Often times I find myself saying something so embarrassingly stupid that I want to just evaporate into thin air.” I genuinely don’t know why my brain just goes blank when I look at you. I think I’m going crazy. “He states as if he just had an epiphany of sorts. Once he finishes, he looks over to you. For a while you just sit there looking at your plate of eggs while in deep though. If he really did love you, why did it take him so long to realize it? How long has he felt that way? Questions like this and more swirled in your mind however, in that moment the only thing you felt was happiness. A smile began to form on your features before you turned to him and gave a response. “I love you too.” You said slowly letting the words hit one by one.

“In all honesty I wanted to say it back when you said it last night, but I didn’t want this to be one of those drunken mistakes for either of us, so I waited.” You responded. “Really, I wanted to tell you ever since you showed up to my event last year, but I saw that really pretty girl with you and I chickened out at the last second. You say truthfully.

Your confession leaves him speechless for the first time since last night. Getting up from his seat he makes his way over to you. You take a moment to explain further. However, before you can he cuts you off with a kiss. This one is warmer than the last tender almost.  In that moment all of your previous worries melt away leaving just you and him.

Request are open

[tangerineastronaut]

Hi! I saw you take requests.

May I request something with GOT7 Jackson Wang and best friend!reader, in which the reader starts developing feelings for him and start thinking he’s the one for her? <3

Friends, Just for Now | Jackson Wang (Part 1)

Part 2

The one where your best friend can't keep his secret anymore (and you're oblivious).

Pairing: Jackson Wang (GOT7) x Fem!Reader Genre: Fluff, BestFriend!Reader, idiots to lovers Requested: Yes w.c. 6.6k (oops) Warnings: Cheating (not between jackson and reader), lots of profanity, nicknames, namecalling, minor injury, reader wouldn't know love if it smacked her in the head, holy shit they're kind of annoying af A/N: this was so fun to write, love me a good idiots friends to lovers. I'm also cheesy af, feel free to call me out. Please excuse any errors there may be, I usually proofread after posting. ❣️The love I received on my yunho imagine has literally made me do happy dances, I haven't posted anything on tumblr in 8 years and you guys are just literally the best. I love you all so much! Requests: Open (link below)

Requests | WIPs Masterlists: BTS | ATEEZ | GOT7 | Stray Kids

🎧 FRI(END)S by V

“Come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen. You never listen.”

Two things went through your mind, though you refused to lift your head from where it was tucked against your knees. 

One, you hated that nickname. Pie. He thought it was so cute, and it probably would’ve died off had you not reacted to it the way you did. One missed smear of cherry on your nose 3 years ago and suddenly you’ve been christened. It was his favorite story to tell. 

And two, Jackson Wang was going to get his shit rocked if he didn’t leave you alone. 

“Fuck off,” you say bitterly, pulling further into yourself.

He was right. He had warned you.

You’d hoped Leejin was different, that the rumors were just exaggerated. Surely he didn’t cheat on every girlfriend…right?

“Wrong,” Jackson had laughed. “He’s a fucking dog, y/n.”

You’d rolled your eyes, and then Jackson said three words to you that had kind of hurt. Not kind of. A lot. They’d hurt a lot. 

“You’re not special.”

Leejin was so nice, he was smart and funny and headed for a successful career with his family’s business (so what if his parents probably paid off the school to make sure those student conduct violations never stuck). You wanted to be special. Spent 4 months trying to be. It wasn't an eternity, but you tended to put your whole heart into everything, and it almost always ended up like this.

But Jackson’s words rang true, painfully so, when you received a text from an unknown number earlier today—screenshots of messages between Leejin and some girl, including explicit photos. The unnamed person had said nothing else; you wondered if it was the girl from the screenshots, but you didn’t reply. You simply texted Leejin to go fuck himself before blocking him on everything, running straight home to your apartment, praying that Jackson wasn’t there. He was, of course, as you split the rent. You hated the look on his face when you barged in, nose red and snotty from crying.

It wasn’t smug, it was just…"come on, pie, I told you this was gonna happen." 

You heard him sigh now, no doubt running a hand through his hair. It was blonde; you’d made fun of him at the time he'd dyed it though begrudgingly had to admit it suited him. But he was going to be bald before he was 40 if he didn’t stop tugging at it when he was stressed.

“Hey. Hey, stop. I hate it when you cry, you know, makes my joints hurt or something,” he says, kneeling beside you.

The fuck…? What does that even—

But you were too upset to stop, so he muttered under his breath, poking at your head until you whipped it up to slap him away. He looked like such a boy, hugging his knees and giving you a pleading look. Fine. Bastard.

You sighed and uncurled yourself, your knees screaming from the pain of turning into a human rollie pollie for the last half hour. Jackson sighed as well, no doubt relieved that you weren’t ugly crying anymore. 

He waited until your sniffles were a few minutes apart before moving, sitting criss cross on the floor. His brown eyes were soft, a rarity, truly, though you knew he was already formulating ways to tease you about this when it was more irritating than painful. 

“Done?” he asks, more to comfort himself than you. You sniff and nod, wiping your nose on your sleeve. Well, his sleeve. He made a face, realizing that you were wearing one of his sweatshirts, but made the apparent decision to yell at you later. 

“Don’t be mean to me,” you mumble, resting your cheek on your knee. 

“When am I ever?”

“Jackson, I swear to fucking—”

“I didn’t say anything, pie.”

“If you don’t drop that god damned nickname, it was one time, one little bit of cherry filling, I don’t even like cherry pie, you’re so fucking annoying—”

It was his turn to interrupt, but he didn’t. He just watched you, an irritating twinkle of amusement in his eyes. You scoffed and tucked your face away again, wishing he’d stop looking at you like that. Or at all, really. If there was one thing you’d learned after being friends with him for so long…the asshat had some eyes on him. Had this way of using his gaze to set the mood, able to stop your arguments or rile you up with micro expressions like an olympic gold medalist of manipulation. 

“Want some ramen?” he asks, tilting his head as though speaking to a kicked dog. You crinkle your nose without looking at him. “Want some cake? Some candy?”

“I want you to leave me alone,” you grumble. 

“Want a bath?”

You sigh, refusing to humor him with an answer he already had. He snapped his fingers like he’d just solved the equation of the century, having the audacity to ruffle your hair as he stepped over you unnecessarily to get to the door. You could hear him down the hall, the sound of the bathroom cabinets opening and closing, the water running, hopefully set on hot like you liked. 

“You're out of bath bombs,” he called. You frown. 

“I’m not, they’re under the sink.”

“Why’d you move them? Next to your menstrual equipment, eww.”

That’s why. You felt sorry for whatever unfortunate woman Jackson decided to wife up—the man was addicted to hot baths and cotton candy bath bombs. You’d have to move them again though, now that he knew about your stash. Besides, you’d sent him to the shop more than a few times when you were cramping and out of pads (and chocolate); he would not be impeded by them.

Jackson was waiting for you by the time you dragged yourself to the small shared bathroom. He bowed dramatically, gesturing toward the tub which was steaming hot, as you liked—a meal’s gotta cook. 

You mumble a thank you as he walks past, though he pauses in the doorway, eyes narrowed.

“Get naked, and give me my damn sweatshirt,” he says, pointing accusingly at you. You pout, immediately clutching your pearls.

“Is that why you never get laid? Jesus, would’ve thought you were smoother than that,” you huff. He impatiently tugs at your sleeve, rolling his eyes in that sassy way that always made you giggle and made him more irritated—a win win scenario. 

“It’s a $30 shirt, not a snot rag…pie.”

“You’re a snot rag,” you mumble. You turn your back to him, crossing your arms at the hem and tugging it over your head. You were still in a bra thankfully, though still covered your chest as you tossed the material at him. 

Jackson caught it smoothly, though he wasn’t even looking at the sweatshirt. You didn’t realize he was looking at you until you reached for the button of your jeans. His eyes weren’t lower than your lips, but he looked a little…off. You expected a joke about a food baby or maybe how pale you’ve gotten, but he says nothing. 

“Hello?” you say, shaking your head. “Is that all? Want my pants too? Gonna do my laundry for a change?”

Jackson blinks like his brain finally returned to his skull. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head and backing out of the doorway. Before he closed the door, however, his eyes leveled with yours, so intense it made your breath catch in your throat. Was he mad? Over a sweatshirt?

“Leejin is a fucking idiot,” he says before turning on his heel and heading down the hall. 

You stare at the spot where he stood, even after he’s gone. The hell was his problem now?

By the time you’ve finished your glorious bath, you waltz into the living room like a princess. Jackson looks up from his place on the sofa, deadpanning and tossing his phone on the coffee table as he takes in the freshly purloined hoodie you're sporting.

“Gonna lock my closet,” he says, shaking his head. You beam at him, cutely crinkling your nose as you pad to the kitchen. You tug open the fridge, thinking maybe you could cook something simple for the two of you. It was kind of late to make anything grand, but you wanted more than ramen. 

The empty shelves make your eye twitch. 

“Seriously?” you huff, gesturing around. “Would it kill you to get groceries once?”

“You always complain when I do,” Jackson shrugs, flicking through netflix with the remote. “Got the wrong brand, got too many, didn’t get enough—”

“I always text you a detailed list, but whatever,” you grumble, low enough that it doesn’t provoke a response. “Since you’re a big man baby incapable of buying groceries, you can buy us something at the convenience store.”

“I am perfectly capable, thank you,” Jackson says, narrowing his eyes. 

“Of what? Weaponized incompetence? I agree, get dressed,” you hum. 

Ten minutes later, you’re walking side by side down to the convenience store. The apartment’s location was perfect—five minutes from campus one way, five to a 24 hour convenience store another. Perfect because you both had a habit of wanting to come home when you were drunk after a party, starved and craving foods that you’d regret the next day. 

The doors chimed a welcome as they slid open, allowing you inside. You made a beeline for the sweets, Jackson went straight for the energy drinks. 

You perused the aisle for a few minutes, making your choice and going to find your roommate. You rounded the corner and froze. 

Unfortunately, it wasn’t possible to block someone in real life. So while you’d never see Leejin’s social media posts, it didn’t mean that you wouldn’t run into him on a saturday night at the convenience store near your apartment. 

You feel a mix of emotions—anger, shame, disbelief among them. You knew it wasn’t impossible, it wasn’t even unlikely, as this store was one of only a few. But it felt so damn unfair that he’d happen to be here, hours after you found out about what he’d done. 

“Is that all you’re getting?” Jackson snorts, frowning as he eyes your bag of chips. But he notices your stillness, following your gaze to see Leejin, casually chatting on the phone as he looks at the protein bars.

You expect him to snort, maybe make a comment just loud enough for the other to hear before pulling you away, but Jackson surges forward so quickly he nearly knocks you over. You grab his arm, both to steady him and stop him from…whatever the hell he’s doing. 

“Where are you going?” you whisper, tugging him back with as much strength as you could muster. 

“He broke your heart and I’m gonna break his fucking face.”

He moves again, this time dragging you along on the linoleum floor. Fortunately, Leejin is too preoccupied with his call to notice. The thought makes your stomach twist, briefly wondering who he’s talking to. 

“You’re gonna get us kicked out, what’s the matter with you?” you hiss, trying to shake sense into him. Jackson yanks his arm away from you, dropping the energy drinks on the nearest shelf before storming off. You stare after him, mouth agape in disbelief. 

You arrive home 15 minutes later, having hid near the bathrooms until Leejin had left. You’d bought (and paid for, irritatingly) your snacks and Jackson’s drinks, but when you shove into the apartment, it’s empty. Lights off, no sign of him. You worry for a few seconds—had he waited for you and bumped into Leejin instead? But you surely would’ve heard something outside. You opt to text him and choose to believe he’s being broody and walking through the streets like a sad music video.

> what the fuck? is your deal? Where are you??

You’re confused and groggy when someone taps at your cheek, not realizing you’d even fallen asleep on the couch. You rub at your eyes, squinting, processing the sight of Jackson standing over you, t-shirt stuck to his form, beads of sweat rolling down his cheeks. 

You’ve had weird dreams about him before, ones that you’d rather never speak of again, and they usually start out like this. But this Jackson rolls his eyes in a way that sweet, sweet dream Jackson would never. 

“Get up, jesus. Your back is going to hurt,” he says. You slowly sit up, realizing he’s right. Apparently not only had you fallen asleep on the couch,  but you’d fallen asleep sitting up, sleeping in an unnatural slouched position. 

“Ow…”

“Told you.”

“No it’s…hey,” you snap, waking up a bit more now that you  remember that you’re actually pissed at him. “It’s your fucking fault, what happened to you? You just disappeared! I was worried!” 

You’re surprised to see Jackson bristle. He’s not shaken easily, least of all by you, but he glances to the side and tugs at his t-shirt, separating it from his damp skin. 

“Went to the gym. Figured I should cool off,” he says. You want to be pissed at him more, say something else, but your back hurts and you’re sleepy. Plus, you’re glad to see he’s alright. Mostly.

“Whatever,” you finally grumble, trying to stretch out your neck. “What time is it?”

“Dunno, around 2 a.m.,” he replies casually. “I’m gonna shower.”

“Great,” you huff. “You go shower. I’ll go roll over and die happy now that I know you’re alive.”

You stumble down the hall to your room, sighing at the sight of your unmade bed. What was the point if you were going to mess it up anyway? You hear Jackson follow shortly after, the bathroom door opening and closing. The shower starts, and you shuffle beneath the covers. 

You wake up not long after, whining in protest as you’re jostled. 

“It’s me,” Jackson says, rudely pushing you over. “Scoot.”

You wanted to shove him away, to point out that “scoot” should be said before you rob someone of their bed, but you can’t be bothered. Besides, once he settles next to you, you realize that he’s not wearing a shirt and he smells nice and clean. 

Sleepy, groggy, annoyed, relieved, you curl against him like a bunny seeking warmth. You feel him stiffen, though you think little of it. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, not sounding the least bit tired. You couldn’t say the same for yourself, unable to open your eyes as you reply. 

“Mm. ‘s warm down here. Night night.”

You hear him sigh, then shuffle, and then he’s rolled over to face you, offering a human-made cocoon that you happily burrow into. He’s soft and warm and smells like his manly body wash—and your shampoo, damn it. 

“Goodnight, y/n,” he says, soft enough to count but not enough for you to notice. 

Waking up tangled with Jackson was, unfortunately (?), not all that unusual. When you were upset, you found your way to his bed, and despite his protests you knew he didn't actually mind. It went both ways—you'll die before you admit that you like it, if only because he's a human heater.

You still feel groggy, squinting and fumbling around for your phone. Such a task is difficult when there's deadweight slung over your waist, but you manage, bringing the device to your face.

10:43 a.m.

Oh good. You slept 8 hours—and half the day away, to your brain at least. You toss your phone down, debating whether or not you should just go back to sleep. You choose instead to roll over, addressing the sleeping shirtless man keeping you pinned to your bed.

Your camera roll was filled with photos just like this, because Jackson slept like a baby. Literally. Hands curled into fists, face relaxed, head tilted to the side. His blonde hair is mussed from sleeping with it wet last night, and you dodn't hesitate to run your fingers through it for no reason at all. It was soft and surprisingly thick, but you weren't about to dial back on the baldness theory.

Jackson stirred, though didn't wake up, shifting to lie on his back. Freed from your restraints, you sat up and had to cover your mouth to stifle a laugh.

Of course the curtains parted like that, of course he was sleeping like a prince now, sunlight arcing off of his jaw—it even highlighted his stubble in an annoyingly poetic way. What kind of gods were kind enough to give him of all people that face?

He really was kinda...pretty.

No, not kinda. Jackson Wang was beautiful. You were his best friend, but you weren't blind. Maybe you'd become a little numb to his charms, but you'd seen what he could do to people with just a look, even without malicious intent. He was charismatic on top of that, though you were the only one who got to see the side of him that wasn't.

The side that stole your shampoo and commandeered your bed, anyway.

So fine, you knew he was pretty. But he was kinda sorta extra pretty right now, and maybe you wanted to remember it later.

You shifted to grab your phone—a never-ending quest for material to bully each other over—but the movement apparently jostled him awake. You sheepishly smiled as he blinked a few times, using the heel of his palm to rub the blurriness away.

"Really?" he asked, voice rough, eyes leveling to the phone in your hand. "Fucking creep."

"You have like a thousand pictures of me sleeping," you point out, narrowing your eyes. Jackson nods, rolling over and hugging your waist, his head resting against your hip.

"That I do—you're cute when you drool all over yourself. I'm working on a collage."

"Asshole," you mutter, prying his arms off of you. You make an attempt to escape, but as expected, you're smoothly hauled back down.

"Where you going?"

"I need to pee, wanna come with?"

"It's early."

"It's almost 11."

"Yeah, early."

Jackson grunts before you can reply, practically placing you in a chokehold as he rolls over. You have no choice but to go with him, ending up flopped over his chest like a dead fish.

He says nothing for a moment, and you wonder if he's fallen back asleep. It's not difficult to squirm out of his grasp this time, though rather than allowing you to slide off, the apparently-awake-Jackson moves both hands to your hips.

Your stomach does that funny thing it sometimes does around him, like a little alarm that says 'hey! getting too close!' Listening to this alarm had prevented a lot of mistakes over the course of your friendship, mistakes like wanting to kiss him when you were tipsy, noticing the way he looked after a long workout, hair plastered to his forehead, the fuzziness you felt that time your heating pad broke, and his warm hands wound up on the lower half of your tummy to stave off the cramps.

Mistakes like that.

His eyes open again, and you do your best to look irritated.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says, suddenly unnaturally serious. "I was just trying to cool off, and my phone died, so I didn't see your text until after I got home."

You're not really sure how to respond—it was always strange when conversations got like this between you, regardless of the topic. It was so jarring, so far from the usual cracked out nonsense. You decided to nod, then shake your head, then nod again.

Jackson was a badass, most people knew as much. He was trained in martial arts and practically ate protein for every meal. But despite this, he wasn't typically an aggressive guy. You'd only ever seen him throw one punch—an ex of yours a couple years ago who threatened to post a nude photo of you. Needless to say, the guy deleted them, made difficult thanks to the blood smearing his screen as it dripped from his nose.

"It's fine, I get it," you say. "Just...why were you so mad at him? Did he do something to you?"

Jackson blinks up at you, shifting so that he's partially sitting up on his elbows.

"I told you, y/n," he says, shaking his head like you're an idiot. "He broke your heart, I was gonna break his face. You should've let me get one hit in at least."

"He didn't break my heart," you groan, rolling your eyes. "It wasn't that serious, you know that. We'd only been dating for 4 months."

"...I watched you cry for an hour because someone stepped on a worm—"

"—that's different. It's literally a living little creature, what if that's someone's girlfriend, hm? What if she asked her boyfriend 'would you still love me if I was a worm' and he said yes except now they can't live wormily ever after because she's smushed all because some horrible person can't be bothered to step aside for a worm?"

Jackson stared up at you, blinking slowly, looking 175% done with your shit.

"What the fuck is wormily ever after?"

You sigh, leaning forward until your head is on his bare shoulder. You have half a mind to bite him, though you resist. You will be civil—for now.

"I don't know," you mumble. "No early birds, no hot sidewalks?"

"I....you're so fucking weird."

"Lots of guys are dickheads, but you were ready to knock him out. Really, Jackson, was that all? Promise he didn't say something to you?" you ask, voice muffled against his warm skin. Just one lil munch. It'd be good payback for him scaring the hell out of you last night.

Jackson exhales, and there's suddenly a hand tugging at your tangled mess of bedhead until you're sitting up, looking down at him.

"I wanted to kick his ass for the same reason that I never bring anyone home," he says quietly. His eyes are serious, no sparkle of humor in them, and it makes your stomach twist. You didn't like it when Jackson got serious.

"What? Because of me?" you ask. "I don't care who you fuck as long as I don't have to cook them breakfast."

Mostly true—you were afraid of walking out of your bedroom one morning and running into a really pretty girl, someone with perfect grades and clear skin, who has the audacity to be beautiful and nice. Someone only Jackson deserves. But you leave that bit out and give him a half teasing smile.

Jackson doesn't return it. He grunts, moving his hand up to tug at his hair. You slip yours beneath his, mumbling for him to stop doing that.

"You really don't?" he finally asks, swallowing hard enough that you see his throat move.

"Don't what?"

"You don't care who I fuck?"

His question catches you off guard, though not as much as the fact that he still looks dead serious. This seems like something the two of you should be laughing over—not something to talk about whilst you're currently straddling your best friend in your bed, who happens to be naked from the waist up.

"I mean...no?" you say, shaking your head in confusion. "Should I?"

"I don't know, should you?"

Should you? What the hell was that supposed to mean? You didn't like riddles, and this felt like one. You'd tried to stay out of his business over the four years you've been friends, though come to think of it...you'd never met any of his girlfriends after the first six months. You'd assumed he was so busy with classes and his extracurriculars that there just wasn't much time for anything past shallow hookups.

But...you couldn't remember a single time that had occurred. He was home every night, never brought company over for that purpose.

"Jackson," you say quietly, palms resting on his chest. When the hell did he get so muscular? There was a noticable firmness beneath your fingers, and you briefly considered billing Leejin for your services in making sure he didn't get the shit beat out of him. "I feel like this is an inside joke and I'm out of the loop. You're upset? Why?"

"Why would I be?" he counters, irritatingly smooth. The hands on your hips squeeze once, like he's trying to talk to you in morse code. It's annoying.

"Quit," you mumble, biting your lower lip. "I'm trying. Stop being mean and just tell me."

He sighs, moving a hand to his face.

"If you don't already know, then it doesn't matter, alright?"

"Wh—"

You're cut off as he suddenly shifts from beneath you, leaving you tumbling to the sheets when he stands. Just like the last two times for some damn reason, he prepares to storm out of the room.

"Jackson, wait—shit."

You trip over the edge of your nightstand, catching yourself on your hands. Your lamp tumbles to the floor, thankfully not shattering on the carpet. Still, the ache brings tears to your eyes, and you bite the inside of your cheek as you sit down.

"How many times have I told you to push that against the wall!?" Jackson says, rushing over to you. You lean back against your bed, grimacing as you look at your knee. It's not the worst scrape you've ever gotten, but it is bleeding, and it burns.

"Hang on, pie." He leaves the room, and by the time he returns with the pack of bandaids and peroxide, you're covering your face with one hand and hugging your knee with the other.

"Hey, it's not so bad," he says, obviously in partial panic mode as he kneels in front of you and tugs at your ankle. He probably thought that's why you were in tears, but it was moreso the fact that he was being...just...weird, and you didn't like it.

You quietly sit there, hands over your eyes as he uses a cotton ball to dab at the blood. You don't even flinch, it doesn't burn—perks of having an MMA star for a roommate; he knew how to bandage a cut (a common occurence for your clumsy ass, unfortunately).

After a few minutes, he pats the side of your calf, and you finally uncover your eyes. There's a bandaid over the scrape now, and you let your knee fall to the side. Jackson is looking at you, and you nod.

"That's good, thanks," you mumble quietly.

"You sure?" he asks. You frown, nodding quickly. But his hand moves up to your cheek, cupping it as his thumb swipes below your eye.

Tears.

That alarm goes off inside of you, but Jackson doesn't move his hand, so you let it sit there and you feel your stomach tying itself into a knot. You're a little worried it's not gonna come undone.

"I wasn't crying because of that," you say, swallowing as you glance away shamefully. "I...I don't like this, Jackson. Feels weird. If I did something to make you mad, I wish you'd just tell me—"

"I'm not mad at you," he replies. You sniff, and finally his hand slips away, though only to rest on your uninjured knee. His fingers twitch, like he wants to do something but won't let himself. Slap you, maybe, for never listening to him and always ending up hurt because of it. You would, if you were him.

"You keep running away from me," you point out, a little surge of anger from last night returning. "You keep acting like I'm supposed to know everything you're thinking, and I don't, because you won't tell me stuff. I tell you stuff, the least you could do is text me a grocery list of what the fuck is going on inside of your brain, so I'm not sitting here thinking I'm gonna lose my best friend and roommate over something I don't even know that I've done. I'm sorry we ran into Leejin, it's not like I knew he was gonna be there. I'm sorry for thinking I was special in the first place and ending up where you said I'd be."

Jackson sighs and tilts his head, and you hate yourself for crying more. It wasn't a big deal, things were a little crazy after yesterday. You didn't even love Leejin, it had just...hurt? Your pride? No one wants to know they're less than a second choice. But Jackson had acted like Leejin was out for his blood, and every time he runs away, it feels like he's escaping you.

"You're not gonna lose me," he finally says, glancing down at the floor. "I just...I've got a lot of shit to work through, you know? It's not...it's not your fault though."

"Like what?" you ask, worry lining your brow. "If you'd just—is it money? Because we can figure out rent—"

"It's not money," he interrupts. "I promise, it's nothing like that."

"Then what?" You huff, a little more irritated than concerned. "Parents? Grades? Girl trouble?"

"Yeah," he nods, licking his lips. "That last bit."

"Girl trouble?" you ask, somewhat surprised. For some reason, the fact that he hadn't told you about a girl bothered you more than the idea that there was one at all. You shared everything with him; if he'd kept her a secret, it had to have been a little more serious.

"Do I know her?" you ask tentatively. Please say no, I don't want to go through a list of the hottest girls I know.

"Yeah," he replies. Fuck.

"Oh. How long have you been dating?"

"We're not."

"Then...?"

"She's an idiot."

"It's a mystery as to why you're single, really," you say, rolling your eyes. "So she's an idiot because she won't date you? Sounds kind of shallow on your end."

"She's an idiot because she keeps dating jackasses who don't give a shit about her. I don't give a damn if she ever chooses me or not," he says plainly. You frown.

"Maybe she's insecure?"

"She is. Very."

"Huh. Is she pretty?"

"Beautiful."

"Oh. Hm."

Well what the fuck were you supposed to say to that? Congratulations? Sorrows, sorrows, prayers?

"Okay..." you say after a beat. You were not good with advice, especially when it came to love, obviously. He didn't say love though. Infatuation, maybe. Still, you were not an expert. "So if she keeps dating jackasses and won't date you, why do you bother? Why not just forget about her?"

Jackson's eye twitches. You don't notice.

"Hard to forget someone you see every day, pie," he says. You scoff.

"Okay, I'm calling bullshit. I'm literally the only person you see every day."

"Mhm."

"Then you're lying?" you ask. Jackson deadpans.

"Please, for the love of god, never reproduce."

"Rude," you mutter. "Fine, so I know her, she's insecure, pretty, dates assholes, you allegedly see her everyday?"

"All of the above," he says. You frown, lips pursing as you rack your brain for answers, going through the hot insecure girls you know like a filing cabinet.

Wait.

Your eyes widen. Jackson's do the same, and then he smiles, like he's proud of you.

"Oh my god, is it Kim Sujin?" You ask, covering your mouth. "The girl with the—"

"Jesus fucking christ, y/n," he groans, running a hand through his hair. "Are you...you're fucking with me? That's what this is. You're not this dumb, right? Please say no. I feel like I'm in middle school right now, holy shit."

You open your mouth to argue, to insist he was being unfair (you didn't even like puzzles!) but he suddenly leans forward, palms cupping both of your cheeks. He pulls you toward him, nose inches from yours. You've been this close to him before, but you're suddenly dizzy now, a little out of it as you wonder if this is really happening to you—or if this is another sweaty-jackson-standing-over-me dream. Jackson, who has freckles on the tip of his nose and won't stop looking at you like that, the knot pulling tighter and tighter.

"Stop thinking before you hurt yourself. 'm gonna kiss you now, is that okay?" he asks.

Is that oka—?

"Kiss?" you mumble, swallowed up by those god damn pretty brown eyes. Jackson nods, head tilted, primed to kiss the cluelessness out of you, apparently. "Y-yeah, that's fine."

"It's gonna be...it's gonna be a lot, okay? Like not just a peck. You're fine with that?"

"Yep," you nod.

Jackson nods back. And then he kisses you.

He doesn't release your face, squishing your body between himself and the bed behind you. His lips press to yours, insistent and warm, though you can tell he's being cautious—if you wanted to push him away, you could. But you did not want to do that.

Because Jackson Wang was kissing you, and he's a really good kisser.

You briefly forget that you have hands, so when you remember, you waste no time in using them. One cups his jaw, feeling the edge of it press into your palm. The other fists his blonde hair, tugging it gently.

Jackson groans into your mouth, and that alarm in your belly turns into a fucking war drum. You feel the knot tighten and snap, and suddenly you're pushing him back, scrambling into his lap.

You kind of want more, kind of want to put your tongue in his mouth because he's warm and tastes good and you can only imagine how much better it would be, but he beats you to it. His tongue swipes over your lower lip and you eagerly open for him. He breathes in as soon as you do, and it feels like he's stealing your soul. Fuck it? He can have it?

It's messy, a tad bit desperate, definitely not the poetic kiss of rom coms, but you don't give a shit. It feels good, feels warm and right, like you've been kissing him in your head every day for the past 4 years.

By the time you manage to separate, you're trembling an embarassing amount. You'd blame the buzz on coffee if you'd had any, but you just hide your flushed cheeks and rest your forehead against his shoulder. You can tell that for once, Jackson's brain seems to also have short circuited, as it takes him a minute before he finally wraps his arms around you. You can hear his breath—as shaky as yours, thank god.

"Was that okay? Was it weird? Did I make you uncomfortable?" he asks, tilting back on one palm to look at you, his other arm secured around your waist. You sit up, shamelessly biting your lower lip, refusing to meet his eyes. He mistakes this for discomfort, all but shoving you out of his lap, hands flying to his hair.

"Fuck, I...I shouldn't have...I didn't mean to. I wasn't gonna...I'm so fucking sorry y/n, if you want me to move out—"

"You're gonna go bald," you mumble, a little blitzed out as you rest on your hands.

"Huh?"

"Nevermind. Stop freaking out, okay?" you offer, finally looking up at him. God he looks...scared. Hair messy, brown eyes wide. So unlike his usual cocky self that you're a little shaken, caught between wanting to protect him and wanting to kiss him again.

"I didn't make you uncomfortable, did I?" he asks softly. That alarm is now everywhere, setting off in your chest at his concerned tone. You shake your head.

"No. I'm okay," you reassure him. "A little irritated."

Jackson's head snaps up, worry on his face. You feel guilty, so you quickly clarify.

"You said I'm not special," you say quietly, looking away. "If you were talking about me just now...why did you tell me that?"

He looks confused, like he can't remember (of all the things he's said to bully you—while you kept a detailed record). But he seems to finally recall the conversation, rubbing his forehead as his lips spread into a smile.

"What's funny?" you puff.

"I meant to him, pie. You're not special to him. Not that you weren't special at all, or to...to me," he explains, looking part amused and part shy. You soften a bit, unable to help but pout.

"Then you should say that!" you say, gesturing at nothing. "You can't just go around telling people they aren't special."

"I don't make you feel special?" he asks, dipping his head to meet your eyes.

Well, yes, but that's not the point. You choose not to reply.

Just like most things when it comes to you, however, he already knows the answer. He looks a little too proud of himself as he reaches for your wrist, pulling you back into him. You're not quite in his lap, but you lean heavily against his side, your chin resting against his chest.

"What if we mess it up?" you ask, looking up at him. He frowns, not understanding. "Us. What if...what if we mess us up?"

"I don't see how we would," he laughs. "We're practically married."

"Gross. We are not."

"We split the bills, pie."

"Most roommates do."

"We cook together."

"Most roommates do."

"My mother loves you."

"Your mother loves everyone."

"Not true. And my father loves you."

You pause, then squint.

"Your father has good taste," you say. Jackson rolls his eyes. He looks a little conflicted, like he can't decide what's too much, what's too soon.

"I do," he says quietly.

You hate that, for once in your life, you know exactly what he's saying without him saying it. And god damn it, you feel your eyes burning.

"Don't...ugh," you whine, looking away from him. But he's not having it, taking your chin and tilting your face up. You're faced with glassy eyes that make you want to die.

You hated it when he cried. Maybe you make his joints hurt or whatever, but you've only seen Jackson cry twice, once when his family dog died, and another when he was drunk and had convinced himself you weren't his friend anymore. Both times, you'd never felt so helpless. The way you feel now.

"Y/n, I—"

"Please don't," you breathe quickly, swallowing down your tears. You immediately panic at the look on his face, like you've slapped him. But you tuck your hair behind your ear and shake your head.

"No, I-I mean, I know you do, and I...I'm pretty sure I do too. I just...I can't say it now, alright?" you explain. "I'm sorry, I just—you know me better than anyone. I don't...don't wanna fuck it up, you know? I don't wanna lose you, I'm so bad, so stupid when it comes to this—"

"Hey, hey, shh..." Jackson says, gently shaking your chin. "I'm not upset, okay? Just relieved, a little scared. I don't want to fuck this up either, yeah? I want...I want what we are today and I want it tomorrow, even if that means we stay just like this."

His thumb brushes your lower lip. God, you want to kiss him again.

"No rush, pie, okay? I'll wait for you, even if..." he sucks in air and looks away, as though the idea hurts to even consider. "...even if it's never for us."

You want to kiss him again. Would that even be appropriate? After what you just said? After the emotions threatening to disrupt the foundation of your life for the past four years?

"Can...can I kiss you again?" he asks softly. You swallow and nod.

"Please."

Part 2 is out now!

[kawaiixbeats]

Concert Dreams

🩷 Pairing: Jackson Wang x Original Character: Starr 🩷 Genre: Fluff/Smut 🩷 Summary: Starr and her best friend scored tickets to a Jackson Wang concert, and it turned into a night they will never forget! 🩷 Word Count: 4,907 🩷 A/N: This is the first fic I am posting. I used to write years ago and have just started up again. I hope you enjoy it. Also, this is my first attempt at a bit of the smutty kind of content. 😅 🩷 m.list

Starr and Kali were basking in the glow of an unforgettable night. They had scored tickets to see Jackson Wang. Not just any tickets, but floor seats right by the stage. From the moment they secured those coveted spots, they knew camping out to get near the barricade was a must. Their determination paid off.

The concert was everything they ever dreamed of and more. Jackson’s music, energy, and electrifying presence on stage were perfect. Tears streamed down both of their faces as the night ended, tears of joy, excitement, and even a hint of sadness that it was all over. What made it even more surreal were the moments when Jackson seemed to notice them. It was the kind of night they would cherish forever.

Or so they thought.

As they slowly made their way out of the venue hall, still buzzing with adrenaline and the tears slowly stopping, a voice called out to them. “Hey, do you want to return to my hotel and hang out? There’s going to be a bunch of us going from the concert. You guys were having a great time out there, so I wanted to extend the invite.” 

The voice sounded familiar, far too familiar.

Starr and Kali had wide-eyed looks of disbelief before turning around, frozen. Standing there, just feet from them, was Jackson Wang. 

“I’m sorry, my ears are ringing from the concert. You’re Jackson Wang,” Starr stammered, her mind struggling to process what was happening. 

“Could you please say that again?” Kali chimed in quickly, trying to sound casual while suppressing the fangirl screams threatening to escape. “It was so loud in there, we didn’t quite hear you.”

Jackson smiled. “Sure, I get it. It was loud. Like I said, I sometimes invite fans to hang out after the show. I’ve already invited a few people, but I noticed you two having a great time tonight. I’m glad I caught you before you left. What do you think, wanna join us?”

Starr blinked, her face flushed. “Uh…thank you for the invite. Do you mind if we take a moment to talk it over?” 

Jackson chuckled. “Of course, take your time.” 

She grabbed Kali’s arm and pulled her aside. “Okay, we’d be insane to say no, right? I didn’t want to just jump at it and seem desperate.” Starr whispered hurriedly, her heart pounding.

Kali stared at her, incredulous. “If you had said no to Jackson Wang, Starr, I would’ve slapped you, gone alone, and left you behind!” She burst out laughing. 

Starr grinned. “Alright, alright, I just wanted to make sure we were on the same page.”

The two returned to Jackson, trying their best to play it cool. “We talked it over,” Starr said with a confident smile, “and we’re definitely free. We’d love to come hang out.” 

Jackson beamed. “Awesome. I was hoping you’d say yes. I noticed you both during the show and thought, ‘They’ve gotta come.’ Follow me.”

Their faces blushed at his words, but they quickly stepped behind him, their hearts racing. Starr and Kali joined the small group of fans Jackson had gathered from the concert. They all headed to his hotel; the entire walk there was surreal. 

They all chatted together as if they were long-time friends; Starr and Kali couldn’t help but exchange private texts:

Starr: This is real, right? Like, he actually knows we exist.

Kali: OMG, pinch me. If this is a dream, I don’t wanna wake up.

What had started as the best night of their lives was now turning into a story they’d never forget.

When they arrived at the hotel, Starr and Kali were speechless. The suite was beyond anything they had ever imagined: sprawling, luxurious, and filled with an energy that matched the night they’d just had. The floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city’s sparkling skyline, and the sleek modern decor radiated sophistication.

Jackson had gone all out. A fully stocked bar sat in one corner of the room, with a private bartender mixing the drinks. “No one’s paying tonight,” Jackson said. 

Despite the open invitation of complimentary beverages, Starr couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. From experience in the food service industry, she knew how much bartenders relied on tips, so she made sure to tip generously each time she got a drink since she noticed that no one else was tipping. The bartender smiled appreciatively every time.

The night unfolded like a dream. Everyone shared stories about the concert, the crowd, their favorite moments, and how they ended up at this once-in-a-lifetime gathering. Some fans talked about other Jackson Wang shows they’d been to, while Starr and Kali admitted this was their first.

Jackson left the group briefly, then returned with a mischievous smile, holding something behind his back. “Who wants to play a game?” 

The room erupted in nervous laughter, everyone eyeing him warily. Unsure what Jackson was about to pull out from behind his back. “Depends,” they all said together. 

Jackson revealed a box of Uno cards, and the tension broke as laughter filled the room. “Don’t look so scared,” he said, chuckling.

The drinks were flowing by now, and everyone felt more relaxed and uninhibited. The group of twelve included a mix of fans, some of Jackson’s staff, and a few of his dancers. Five of them, Jackson, Starr, Kali, and three others, decided to play Uno. At the same time, the rest continued chatting and drinking in the background. 

Starr and Kali exchanged a knowing glance as they settled at the table. They’d learned long ago that sitting next to each other during any competitive game was a recipe for chaos. Without a word, they agreed to keep some distance, seating another player between them.

What they didn’t tell anyone, though, was their unspoken rule: if they weren’t sitting next to each other, they would naturally team up against everyone else. It always happened as if by instinct. 

They avoided putting Jackson between them; neither wanted to risk making their first real interaction with him a battlefield of wild card draw-fours and skipped turns. Starr and Kali’s competitive spirits soon appeared as the game started lightheartedly between the players. 

“You better watch your back,” Kali teased, giving a mischievous smile and throwing down a reverse card.

“Back at you,” Starr replied with a sly grin, stacking a draw-two.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. “I feel like I should be worried about you two.”

“Oh, no,” Starr said sweetly, trying to play innocent while batting her eyes. “We’re just here to have fun.”

“Yeah,” Kali added with a smirk. “We’re harmless.”

The group laughed, but it wasn’t long before everyone realized Starr and Kali had a silent, strategic rhythm that left their opponents groaning in defeat. Even Jackson shook his head in amused disbelief.

“This is officially the most intense Uno game I’ve ever played,” Jackson said, shuffling the deck for the next round. 

When the group had finished playing a few rounds of Uno, Jackson stood up, gathered the cards, and disappeared into another room. He returned moments later, holding a different deck, a standard pack of playing cards.

“Don’t worry,” he said, grinning at their cautious expressions. “These are just regular cards; what do you wanna play?” 

“I’m down for anything,” Starr said with a smile. “My two favorites are poker and rummy. But I’m open to learning if it’s something new.”

Kali laughed, nudging her friend. “She doesn’t know many card games. I’ve got her defeated in that department.” 

The entire table erupted in laughter, even Starr. 

They settled on poker, a game Starr knew but wasn’t exceptionally skilled at. Winning wasn’t her priority tonight; she was just there to have fun. The group of six gathered around the table. Jackson sat at the head, with Starr to his right. A fellow fan, Mark, sat next to Starr, followed by his friend Nate, then Laura and her boyfriend, Adam. Kali sat directly across from Starr at Jackson’s left. 

The game moved quickly, laughter and friendly banter filling the air. As they began the third round, Mark accidentally knocked over his drink. The liquid contents spilled across the table and began to pour onto Starr’s clothes. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Starr. I didn’t mean to hit that,” Mark said, looking embarrassed.

Starr smiled, waving off his apology. “It’s okay! Accidents happen. Honestly, it’s not a big deal. I’ll clean up and be back in a sec.” 

Excusing herself, Starr made her way to the bathroom. There, she assessed how nasty the stain was. The soda stain was glaringly apparent on her red shirt, one of her favorite colors. “Why couldn’t I have worn black tonight?” she muttered. 

She quickly removed her shirt, ran it under the water, and scrubbed the stain with soap, hoping that it wouldn’t leave a permanent stain since it was fresh. Grabbing a blow dryer, she focused on the damp spot, hoping it would dry without leaving a mark.

She was so absorbed in her task that she didn’t hear the door open. When she glanced up, her reflection caught a familiar face standing behind her, smiling. She gasped, jumping in surprise and clutching the shirt in her hand to her chest.

“Oh my god, you scared me!” she exclaimed, spinning around to face Jackson.

He stepped closer, holding a shirt in his hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. You were taking a bit, so I wanted to check on you. I brought you this; it’s one of mine.”

Starr blinked, her face heating as she realized she was standing shirtless in front of Jackson Wang. “Oh, uh, thank you, but I think I’ve got the stain out. I can just wear this.”

He tilted his head, his hand lifting her chin gently so their eyes met. His proximity made her heart race. “I insist,” he said, his voice soft yet firm. “You can take your shirt home and clean it properly. Besides, this is one of my shirts. No one else has it. How could you say no to that?”

She hesitated, overwhelmed by the situation. Jackson was so close, his gaze locked on to Starr, and that playful smirk on his lips made it hard to think straight. 

Her mind raced. Why is he staring at me like that? Why is he so close? She tried to focus, reminding herself that Kali and the rest of the group were just outside. But at that moment, all she could think about was how badly she wanted to close the distance between them.

“Starr, can I tell you a secret?” Jackson asked suddenly, his voice low and intimate. Her breath caught in her throat. “Uh, um, sure. Of course. I’m all ears,” she replied, though her heart pounded. She didn’t have much choice, cornered as she was, but she wasn’t about to complain. 

Jackson’s gaze never left hers. “Ever since I saw you at the concert, I couldn’t concentrate. All I could think about was you. I wanted to get you alone. So, in a way, I was thankful you had to come in here to clean up.”

Starr’s eyes widened. His words caught her completely off guard. “I... I…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Jackson interrupted, his voice soft but firm. “I can see it in your eyes. You want the same thing I want.”

She swallowed hard, her cheeks flushing. “To deny it would be a lie,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But… Kali and everyone else. I’ve been gone for a while, and now you’re here too. What are they going to think?” She hesitated, then added, “And I don’t want to be seen as just another fangirl who’s trying to sleep with an idol.”

Her eyes dropped, unable to meet his anymore, but his hand on her chin held her gently in place. Even so, she glanced down, sadness flickering across her face. 

“I understand what you’re saying,” Jackson replied, his voice filled with a warmth that made her heartache. “And I appreciate your honesty. But leave that to me. Just from meeting you tonight, I know you’re not that kind of person. I didn’t get that vibe from you at all. You’re different. So please…” His thumb brushed against her jaw. “Look at me.”

Starr reluctantly raised her eyes to meet his, her breath catching as she saw the sincerity in his expression. 

Jackson leaned forward, placing the shirt he’d been holding onto the counter. His now free hand gently removed the shirt she had been clutching to her chest. His touch trailed to the small of her back, his palm pressing lightly against her, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine. Instinctively, she arched ever slightly, and a playful grin appeared on the corner of his lips.

Without hesitation, Jackson pulled her closer and kissed her, the intensity of it stealing the air from her lungs. Starr froze briefly, stunned, before melting into the kiss. Her hands found their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. 

Encouraged by her response, Jackson released her chin and used both hands to lift her effortlessly. Starr gasped softly as she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. Jackson carried her with ease, sitting her on the counter. Their lips never parted, the kiss deepening as the world outside the bathroom seemed to fade away.

At that moment, nothing else mattered, not the concert, not the others waiting outside, not the nagging doubts in her mind. It was just them, caught in a moment neither wanted to end. 

Jackson pulled back slightly, his lips lingering close to hers, his voice filled with urgency. “Starr, can we take this to the bedroom? I can’t keep holding back. I want to be with you completely. I don’t care who’s here or what anyone thinks.” 

Starr froze, her mind reeling. She had fantasized about this moment countless times, but standing here now, reality felt heavier than she’d ever imagined. Jackson Wang, her bias, the man she admired from afar, was asking for something she had only dreamed of, but those dreams didn’t come with the crushing weight of doubt and fear. 

Her thoughts spiraled. What happens after this? What if I say yes, and then I’m left behind? She knew herself too well; her heart wasn’t built to handle being close to someone and losing them. She couldn’t mentally handle growing more attached to him than she already was. She realized her thoughts must have been showing because Jackson’s expression looked at her with worry and showed a softened expression. 

“Hey, Starr,” he said gently, stepping closer and tightly wrapping his arms around her. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

Her resolve disintegrated at his tenderness. Tears filled her eyes and spilled over as a shaky breath escaped her mouth. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. “I want to, Jackson. I really do,” she began, her voice breaking. “But I’m scared. I don’t want to get attached only to be hurt. It would be like your song, LMLY. That would be me, loving you from afar, left behind. Kali and I… we’ve joked about moments like this, imagining scenarios, but it was always just a fantasy. I never thought it would actually happen.” 

She wiped at her face, her words tumbling out in a rush. “The truth is, I think about this more than I want to admit. And I know the kind of person I am; I don’t see you as just an idol. I see you as a person, and that’s why it scares me. I’d get attached to you. And in your world, with your schedule and life, I’d just… fade away. I probably wouldn’t see you again unless I went to another show. That’s what hurts the most.”

Her tears flowed more freely now, and her chest seething with emotion. Jackson held her closer, his hands cradling her face as he wiped away her tears with his thumb. “Starr,” he murmured, his voice steady and calm, “you’re not just anyone to me. I see you, too. I don’t want to be the reason you hurt, ever.”

He stepped away briefly, grabbing his shirt from a nearby chair. Without a word, he slipped it over Starr’s head, covering her, and then threw her shirt over his shoulder. “You’ve been through enough tonight,” he said softly. Before she could protest, he easily lifted her into his arms, carrying her bridal style. 

He brought her into his bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. Pulling the covers over her, he kissed her forehead and smiled reassuringly. “Just rest here,” he said. “You don’t need another drink. I think it’s time to call it a night.” 

Leaving the room, Jackson returned to the gathering. Sensing the late hour, he thanked everyone for coming and suggested it was time to wrap up. He even arranged rides for the guests, insisting on covering the cost himself. 

Before Kali could leave, Jackson pulled her aside. “Can you head to your hotel and grab your things?” he asked. “I’ll have one of my drivers take you. I’ve already paid for your room for the night, but I want you and Starr to stay here with me. I have plenty of space, and I don’t want either of you returning there tonight.”

Kali hesitated but saw the sincerity in his eyes. “Are you sure?” she asked.

He nodded. “Positive. Starr is already asleep, and I want her to be comfortable.” 

Once Kali left, Jackson returned to his room. Starr was still lying in bed; her tears had slowed. She looked up at him as he entered. He explained everything he had arranged, including Kali bringing their things back. 

Starr’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jackson, you didn’t have to do that. We can’t impose like this; it’s your room and your personal space.”

Jackson chuckled softly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Starr,” he said, brushing her hair back from her face, “this was my decision. No one makes these choices for me but me. I want you here, and nothing will change my mind.” He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, and kissed her again.

He moved to lie beside her, his arms pulling her close. “I didn’t get enough time with you tonight,” he admitted, his voice low and warm. “I wanted to ensure you knew this isn’t the last time you’ll see me. I promise you that.” 

Starr felt her tears return, her voice trembling. “Please, Jackson,” she whispered, “don’t make me promises you can’t keep. I’ve had too many broken promises before and can’t handle one more.” 

Jackson held her tighter, his heart breaking. “Then let me prove it to you,” he said, “one day at a time.”

Jackson and Starr lay together in his bed, their conversation flowing easily as they shared pieces of their lives. The warmth of his presence comforted her, though Starr couldn’t shake her wandering thoughts. Jackson had instructed his security team to inform him when Kali returned so he could personally greet her and ensure she settled into the guest room he’d prepared.

When Kali arrived, Jackson quietly slipped out of the room, leaving Starr alone with her thoughts. He met Kali at the door, carrying the belongings she had retrieved for herself and Starr. Guiding her to the guest room, she handed off Starr’s things, ensuring everything was set before bidding Kali a polite goodnight. She hesitated momentarily before asking, “Can I give you a hug to say thank you?” 

He nodded with a small smile. “Of course.” 

Kali hugged him, her gesture warm but respectful, and then she stepped back, smiling brightly. “Thanks again for everything, Jackson. You’ve been so kind tonight.” With that, she turned and closed the door behind her, sending Starr a quick text to confirm she was settled in for the night.

Starr read the message but didn’t reply. Her mind raced, overanalyzing the hug. Was it just a hug? Could there have been more? She knew Kali would typically be the first to mention anything noteworthy. Still, Starr couldn’t help the flicker of jealousy creeping into her chest. What if she’s holding back because I haven’t told her about us? 

So lost in her thoughts, Starr didn’t hear Jackson return until his voice broke through her preoccupied state. “What are you thinking about now, babe?” Her heart palpitated. 

“Wha...what did you just call me?” she asked, as it took her breath away. 

Jackson chuckled, stepping closer. “Caught that, did ya?” 

“Don’t ignore me,” she said in a curious tone.

“I called you ‘babe,’” he said while laughing. “Now, your turn. What has got you deep in thought?” 

Starr’s cheeks flushed as she stammered, “Kali texted me… that’s all.” 

Jackson raised an eyebrow, sensing her hesitation. “Does every text from Kali make you look this sad?”

She sighed, avoiding his gaze. “No, not usually. I don’t know why this one did.” 

“What did it say?” 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Mr. Wang. Why did you call me ‘babe?’” Starr pressed, narrowing her eyes at him.

“Because that’s what you are to me,” Jackson replied, his tone sincere. “Now, tell me what the text said.” 

“She said you escorted her to her room and… that you gave her a hug.” Her voice wavered, her eyes darting away as her insecurities bubbled to the surface.

Jackson walked around the bed to where she lay and sat beside her. Gently, he lifted her chin with his finger, his eyes searching hers. “Starr, look at me,” he said softly. She resisted, but his patience didn’t waver. “Please.”

Reluctantly, she met his gaze. 

“Kali asked for a hug to thank me, and that’s all it was. Nothing else,” he assured her. “I came straight back to you. What you’re feeling right now is jealousy. And you don’t need to feel that way.” 

Her lips trembled as she whispered, “Why not, Jackson? I’m nothing special. There are so many beautiful women out there. Even Kali is a better choice than me. I don’t know why you’re so hung up on me.” 

Jackson’s expression grew firm but tender. “Starr, stop,” he said, his voice steady. “Looks aren’t everything. They’re just a bonus. What matters to me is the whole person and you; you’re the complete package. When I saw you earlier, I was struck by how beautiful you are on the outside, but what made me pursue you was your heart, mind, and soul. That’s why I can’t get you out of my head.”

She stared at Jackson, overwhelmed by his words and the sincerity in his voice; tears fell. Acting on impulse, Starr moved forward, closing the space between them. Instinctively, she interlocked her fingers behind his head and pulled him into a kiss.

Jackson responded immediately, following her lead as she lay back against the bed, pulling him with her. He shifted his body to balance his weight, his left arm bracing him above her while his right hand tenderly caressed her face and hair.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. The world outside faded, leaving only the two lost in each other. 

Starr’s hands began to explore Jackson’s form with deliberate slowness. Her fingertips traced the back of his neck, gliding down over his broad shoulders and arms. She let them drift back up and down his sides, her touch feather-light but confident. They stopped only when they reached the hem of his shirt. Pausing momentarily, she wrapped her fingers around the fabric and began to lift it, pulling the material over his head. 

The motion caught Jackson off guard. Once free of the shirt, he looked down at her, his expression a mixture of curiosity, a soft grin playing on his lips, and a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Starr,” he said gently, his voice steady yet profound, “what are you doing? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to or anything you think I want you to. I would never force you into something you’re not ready for.” 

As he spoke, his gaze remained locked on hers, unwavering and filled with sincerity. 

Starr leaned forward, brushing her lips against his, her kiss warm and reassuring. “I know,” she murmured against his mouth. “You’ve made that clear, not just with your words, but with everything you’ve done. I trust you, Jackson. Completely.”

Her words lifted the weight of his worry, and he felt at ease. Leaning in, he kissed her again, obsessed with always wanting to kiss her, his lips meeting hers with tenderness. 

Jackson adjusted himself to be over her. His presence was intense but never overwhelming, and his touch reflected the trust and connection they had built in their moments together. His need to be with her and touch her was intense. 

With one swift and fluid motion, he removed the shirt that had adorned Starr’s body, revealing her smooth skin and delicate curves beneath. Her breath was caught in her throat as she gazed at the stunning man before her, his dark hair tousled, and a fiery intensity burned in his eyes. Jackson couldn’t help but admire the woman lying before him, her beauty magnified by the light’s soft glow from nearby. 

He unzipped Starr’s skirt without hesitation, effortlessly sliding it off along with her fishnet stockings and underwear. She couldn’t help but giggle at his impressive skill. “Mr. Wang, you certainly know your way around a zipper,” she said playfully. He grinned mischievously, “Just wait until I show you my real skills.” With that, he unfastened his pants and pulled them down, revealing his fully toned physique. 

Laying back on top of Starr, he resumed their passionate kissing. Slowly, he began planting wet kisses down her neck and across her chest, taking care to pay equal attention to each breast and nipple. His lips continued their journey down her abdomen and pelvis until he was met with the soft inner of her thighs. He placed kisses along the sensitive skin as he made his way upwards. 

Starr couldn’t help but feel a mixture of nervousness and excitement as Jackson’s skilled lips traveled closer to her most intimate areas. As he continued to worship her body with his kisses and caresses, any apprehension melted away, and she gave in to pure pleasure. 

Jackson gently takes her clitoris into his mouth, sucking on it with care and causing her to gasp and move her hips. He holds her down as he continues to pleasure her with his tongue, exploring every inch of her most sensitive area. She can’t help but writhe and moan in response to his expert touch. As he presses his tongue against her core and massages it firmly, he revels in the way she responds to him, unable to contain her moans and squirms. He becomes more vocal and dominant as she moves uncontrollably under his touch. 

Jackson peppers Starr’s body again with kisses, this time with more intensity and urgency. His teeth gently graze over the tense muscles in her neck as he supports himself with one arm and cups her breast with the other, his fingers tracing over her nipple. He positions himself between her legs, fitting perfectly. He begins to grind against her wetness as both their breaths become heavy and labored. As he enters her, they both moan loudly in unison, their hips meeting in perfect synchrony. He then slowly thrusts into her as her body adjusts to accommodate his size. 

His movements are slow and deliberate as he pulls out and then pushes back in. Starr can’t help but moan loudly, instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist. Jackson maintains a steady pace; their bodies pressed tightly together as they share shallow breaths. She loves the feeling of his weight on top of her and inside of her. Every touch from him ignites her senses. Their noses brush against each other as they breathe heavily, and she runs her finger across his bottom lip, feeling his warm breath on her skin. 

Starr can feel her heart racing as she bites down on her lip, trying to suppress the giggle that threatens to escape. The moment’s fierceness overwhelms her, and she giggles, amplifying the desire rushing throughout her body. Jackson’s smile widens at the sound, quickly redirecting his attention to Starr’s lips. Resuming his thrusts with a craving and dire pace, each movement ignites a fierce passion between them, causing their bodies to move in perfect unison as they both lose themselves in the raw intensity of pleasure. 

Their bodies were fueled by a fire and passion that burned between them. Jackson’s love for Starr never wavered. Every movement and kiss was filled with the devotion she deserved. He knew that he was the one who was to provide that. 

The night continued; their exhaustion turned into euphoria as they collapsed in each other’s arms. Amongst the tranquillity of the night, they listened to the steady rhythm of each other’s heartbeats, beating as one. Starr drifted to sleep, safe and secure in Jackson’s embrace, while he tenderly played with her hair. 

Jackson’s promise to take things one day at a time was sincere. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing her, not after experiencing this one perfect night together. He knew without a doubt that he never wanted to spend another day without her presence by his side.

[spacequokka]

JS.two

Prompt: “Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddamnit!”

It seemed like it only ever snowed when you were forced to be inside, like at work or something. You hated being unable to play in the snow with the other kids growing up, so you always took advantage of the winter weather when you could. Jackson had just answered his phone when the first snowflake caught your eye.

“Is that…?” You touched his arm, but he didn’t hear you. Fine. You wouldn’t bother him. You continued walking down the busy sidewalk, with you stopping occasionally to catch a snowflake on your nose or tongue. Maybe mother nature pitied your enthusiasm for the fluff because the flurries picked up enough to get Jackson’s attention.

“Was it supposed to snow today?” He pulled his phone away from his face and studied the screen. “Shit.” He looked around before pointing at a building. “We can get a coffee while we wait for it to blow over.”

“It’s not a blizzard, Jacks. It’s gonna come down for as long as it wants to.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, woman.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you along behind him. You ordered your drinks and took a table by the window. While he went back to his call, you watched the snow outside pick up. To your absolute delight (and his horror), the stuff started sticking to the ground. Your excitement grew as the hour went by and a decent pile of snow coated the ground.

“It doesn’t seem like it's gonna slow down anytime soon.” You pointed at the window. He ended his call and frowned.

“I knew I should’ve taken my car. It’s too cold to walk back in that.”

You shrugged and drained the last of your cup. “I don’t mind. I haven’t gotten to enjoy the snow in a while.”

“Hm…you sure? You won’t get sick?”

“I’m not psychic. I can try not to get sick, but I won’t make any promises.”

“Ugh, come on then.” He stood up. You threw away your trash and headed out. It was a good thing you thought to wear your winter boots just to look cute. They repelled the wet snow and kept your toes warm. “Next time we’re checking more than one weather station.”

“You don’t like the snow?”

“It’s okay. Just don’t want you getting sick.”

You spotted a small mountain of snow on a bench. “Me getting sick is the least of your worries.” You tiptoed over to the bench and quickly grabbed handfuls of the snow, mushing it together in a lopsided snowball.

“What the hell else would I care about?” He noticed you weren’t beside him and stopped walking. His eyes widened when he saw your hands. “No.”

“Yes.” You picked it up and started towards him.

“Don’t you dare throw that—you little shit!” He yelped when it hit him in the neck, exploding in a puff of white and slush. You cackled as he frantically shook his coat and shirt, dancing about like he had a squirrel in his pants. When he deemed the effort a lost cause, his clothes quickly becoming soaked as the snow melted, he turned to you with a glare. “That’s your ass.”

“Wha—?” Instinct took over, and you ran the second he charged at you. You couldn’t imagine how goofy you looked with him chasing you the rest of the way home.

[kathaelipwse]

"You Can’t Hide From Us" (Part 2)

Pairing: Jackson x GN!Reader x BamBam

Genre: FWB! Sick Comfort

Synopsis: After recovering from the illness, you find yourself caught between Jackson and Bambam’s playful yet possessive jealousy. What starts as harmless teasing over who gets more of your attention quickly escalates into a heated battle of affection.

Requested: Yes

Word count: 2.0k

I felt like the other request could be added to the same fic, as a continuation, as it was a same dynamic :)) Enjoyyy!!

It started with something so small.

A casual afternoon, the three of you sprawled out in your apartment, lazily enjoying each other’s company after a long week. The sick spell that had previously knocked you down was long gone, leaving behind only warmth and the familiar comfort of Jackson and Bambam hovering around you like overly affectionate guard dogs. But today, something was… different.

It began when Jackson pulled you into his lap, arms winding around your waist as he nuzzled into your neck. "You spent all morning with Bambam," he murmured against your skin, voice carrying the slightest edge of accusation. "You didn’t even cuddle me once."

Bambam, lounging on the other side of the couch, let out an exaggerated scoff. "Oh, please. You had them all last night! They fell asleep on your chest!" He threw a pillow at Jackson’s head. "Quit being so greedy."

Jackson caught the pillow effortlessly, but his grip around you tightened possessively. "Greedy? I’m just making up for lost time. They’re mine too, you know."

The air between them shifted—just a little. Playful, but thick with something more, something that made your breath catch as you felt Jackson’s fingers press into your hip. Bambam’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward, draping an arm over the back of the couch, tilting his head at you.

"Yeah? Well, if they’re yours, then what does that make them to me?" Bambam’s voice was deceptively sweet, but the sharp glint in his gaze made your stomach twist. "Because I don’t remember agreeing to share."

Jackson’s grip flexed, his jaw tightening. "You don’t get to play the jealous card when you hog them whenever I’m not looking."

"Hog them?" Bambam laughed, but it lacked his usual lightness. "Don’t be mad just because they like spending time with me more."

Oh. Oh.

There it was—the shift from playful to something deeper, something that sent a shiver down your spine. The tension between them was palpable now, both men staring each other down while you sat in the middle, helplessly caught in their battle of possessiveness.

You sighed, pressing a hand to your forehead. "Guys, seriously?"

Neither of them acknowledged you, their gazes locked as Jackson scoffed. "Right. That’s why they’re sitting in my lap right now."

Bambam smirked. "Oh, that just means they’re comfortable. Doesn’t mean they’d pick you over me."

You groaned. "I am literally right here."

"No, no, let’s settle this," Jackson said, voice lower now, his fingers playing idly with the hem of your shirt. "If you had to choose—"

"Don’t even finish that sentence, Jackson Wang."

He had the audacity to pout, but before he could argue, Bambam suddenly stood up, clapping his hands. "Fine. If they won’t pick, we’ll just have to prove who deserves their attention more."

Your stomach dropped. "I don’t like where this is going."

Bambam ignored you, already grabbing his keys. "Give me twenty minutes."

Jackson narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you up to?"

"Oh, you’ll see."

And with that, he was gone.

You stared after him, then turned back to Jackson, who still had his arms wrapped securely around you. "Should I be worried?"

Jackson hummed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "Nah. Whatever he’s planning, I’ll just do it better."

You sighed. "You two are ridiculous."

"You love it."

You wanted to argue, but his lips brushed against your skin again, and, well… maybe you did love it. Just a little.

---

Twenty minutes later, Bambam returned—triumphant, grinning, holding a beautifully wrapped box of your favorite chocolates. "For you, baby," he cooed, pressing the box into your hands with a wink. "Because I actually pay attention to what you like."

Jackson immediately scoffed, standing up with you still in his arms before setting you on your feet. "That’s cute. Really. But—" He grabbed something from behind the counter, turning back with a bouquet of your favorite flowers. "—I think they deserve something a little more romantic."

Your mouth fell open as you looked between them, each holding out their offerings, smugly challenging each other through you.

"You’ve got to be kidding me."

Bambam’s smirk widened. "Go on, baby. Pick."

Jackson tilted his head. "Yeah. Who do you think deserves your love more?"

Oh, they were really pushing it now.

You took a deep breath, slowly setting both the chocolates and the flowers down on the counter before turning to glare at them. "Alright, that’s enough. Both of you, sit down."

Jackson raised a brow. "Are we in trouble?"

"Yes."

Bambam pouted. "Damn."

Still, they listened, perching on the couch like scolded puppies while you crossed your arms. "I don’t know what kind of dumb competition this is, but let me make one thing clear: I love both of you. Equally. So whatever this little fight is? Stop it. Now."

Silence. Then—

"But I—"

"No."

"Well, technically—"

"Bambam, I swear to God—"

They both sighed, exchanging glances before Jackson finally gave in, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, alright. We get it."

Bambam leaned back, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah. Love us both. No favorites. Blah blah."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do I need to kiss you both to make my point?"

Jackson perked up. "I mean—"

You groaned, shoving their shoulders as they laughed, finally letting the tension ease into something softer, something warm. And as they pulled you back onto the couch, cuddling you between them, you realized—

Maybe their jealousy wasn’t so bad after all.

---

[mykoreanlove]

on being real

“I don’t want to date you anymore, Jackson.”

The silver fork he was holding in his left hand fell onto the marble floor, crashing the silence caused by your announcement. Jackson was visibly irritated, big frowns on his face.

“You… what? Why?”

For days you had been practicing this moment, imagining how you would explain your reasons and set him free. And even though you went over this moment hundreds of times, you were not prepared for the gravel pit of anxiety in your stomach. You didn’t do this because you didn’t want him, no. Your feelings were as strong as ever, but Jackson never opened up, he never let you take a look behind his porcelain façade. You decided to no longer waste your time with someone that only portrayed his good sides.

“I don’t feel like knowing you, Jackson. You only show me your good sides, you never share your problems with me. I just…”, you stumbled to find the right words.

“Say it, y/n”, he urged you with a serious tone.

“I feel like I’m dating a fake.”

Ouch, the pit grew bigger.

Jackson hid his face behind his hands, shielding himself from you. You didn’t think it would affect him that much, but his silent sobs gave him away.

“I’m sorry, Jackson.”

It didn’t take long for him to change into his real self, which you finally saw for the first time after months of dating. His eyes, always sparkly but never serene, turned dead, drained from life and love. You silently gasped, surprised to see the abyss behind the veil.

Jackson broke out in laughter as he wiped away his tears.

“Dating a fake, huh?”

Tears started to form in your eyes, seeing him like that broke your heart.

“What do you want to know, y/n? How broken I really am? You think you’re going to love that?”, he spat sarcastically.

You couldn’t answer, you didn’t dare to. Jackson took another sip of his drink, grimacing in pain.

“Shall we talk about my crippling depression, then? You want to know what that’s like? To lie awake every night wondering if this is the life I want, the one that I deserve? Shall we talk about the accompanying anxiety which is clouding my mind 24/7? Am I doing enough? Am I true to myself? Is this really who I am? Shall we talk about my sweaty hands and rapid heartbeat? Me wondering if I’m about to drop dead any minute? Is that it?”

He paused and observed you, not understanding the reason behind your tears.

“Or shall we talk about my health problems? Did you notice how badly I’m griding my teeth? Should I tell you that my jaw is tense as fuck and my teeth are overly sensitive? That drinking and eating anything but warm liquor is making me wince in pain? You think I’m this skinny because I’m on a diet? No, y/n, far from it. Should I tell you how frustrated I am because I have tried literally anything, and no one can help me? You wanna know what that’s like? To be helpless in your own body? To be betrayed by your own fucking body?”

Your eyes wandered to the glass in his hands, finally understanding why he was always drinking so much. Jackson started pacing through the room while bearing his darkest secrets.

“Or shall we talk about the people I’m seeing for help? Because I’ve seen them all, y/n. I searched through whole fucking Asia, and everybody is saying the same shit. It’s all in your head, Jackson. Do you know how fucked up that is? Neither antidepressants nor the shit for my teeth is helping me and you wanna know why? Because apparently, it’s in my head. My body is hurting because my soul is hurting. Isn’t that hilarious?”

Jackson spilled some of his liquor, trying to make a point.

“Or let’s not forget about my love life, y/n. You wanna know what that’s like? You wanna know how much energy it took to portray myself as normal? I wanted you to think of me as strong and healthy and full of life but now you’re breaking up with me because that was, what, fake? I did all of this so you would never realize how broken, fragile, and weak I am. But I guess that wasn’t the right way to go about it either.”

Another layer of sadness washed over his face, tinting his brown eyes in even deeper despair. Jackson took a seat on the couch and hid behind his hands again, wondering why he told you all of this if you were already over him.

He flinched in surprise as he felt your arms around him, hugging him tightly. For once he just gave in and hugged you back, crying silently in your embrace.

“Thank you for telling me, Jacky”, you whispered sweetly into his ear. “This is exactly what I wanted.”

He looked at you surprised, so you explained yourself.

“I fell in love with you because you were a real one. Standing in your truth and being true to who you are. That’s how I have always perceived you, anyways. But then when we started dating, and I never got to know that side of yours. You were too perfect, in a way. And I don’t want perfect. I want real, Jacky.”

His thumb brushed along your cheek, tracing down to your jaw.

“How could you possibly want that?”, his hoarse voice croaked.

You chuckled in response.

“I’m not perfect, Jackson. And I don’t want to be. Don’t you think I get depressed from time to time? We can cry together then. And yes, the thing with your teeth sucks. But I will love you even if you get new ones. And besides that, my teeth don’t hurt but my head does. Often, I get insufferable migraines and have to lie in a pitch-black room, I flinch at light like Dracula himself. Do you think I like that? No, but we all have something. You make it sound like you have to be perfect to be loved. But you don’t.”

The newfound spark in his eyes was noticeable, if only for a quick moment.

“I agree with the people you’ve been seeing, though. Your soul is hurting, Jackson. And that’s okay.”

You grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly, looking at him hopeful.

“You don’t have to heal on your own though. I’d like to help… if you let me?”