#7 for 7 by got7 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pars-ley · 3 months ago

Note

The Drabble game seems fun!!

✨Jackson

🖤Enemies to lovers

✨prompt # 8

A lil angsty & smutty pls!

Congrats on 800 🎉

Title: Just like magic Pairing: Jackson Wang x (f) reader Summary: You and your colleague have never got on, he irritates you more than anyone you know, and especially when you attend a work event to announce your imminent promotion. But what happens when you're not prepared for the unexpected. Genre: Enemies to lovers / idiots to lovers / colleagues to lovers / office romance / one shot / angst / smut Rating: 18+ (NSFW) Warnings: Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it) / breast play / finger play (f. recieving) / heavy making out / Explicit language / cumshot W/C: 4.7k Banner: me Beta: @flurrys-creativity you're the best cheerleader ever! Notes: Thank you to this anon, I was super excited to write this one and the inspiration just kept coming, I hope you enjoy!

A groan rumbles in your throat, as your heels click against the stone steps ascending into the tall, old building being used as this year's work party venue.

“It won't be that bad,” Mark's voice next to you brings you some comfort, as he squeezes your hand, encouragingly. Glancing down at his polished nails, painted by you and you squeeze his back.

“Thank you for coming with me, honestly, you're the best friend a girl could ask for.”

“I wouldn't let you endure tonight alone,” he says, holding the large door open and gently placing his hand on your lower back, guiding you inside.

Your footsteps echo as you cross the large, ornate foyer, where one of the servers points you in the direction of the hall, the music muffled behind the closed doors.

“You ready?” He asks.

You nod and thread your arm through his, before taking a much needed deep breath. Tonight's work party is to celebrate the accomplishments of the company for this financial year. And most importantly the new creative director of events would be announced. You've worked your butt off for this promotion for two years, you've planned the most events out of anyone else in your company and with excellent reviews. All of this has not been without plenty of sleepless nights and working late. Now, it was all about to pay off and you felt like you could breathe again, but this work party had been filling your stomach with butterflies ever since it was announced. You hated being the centre of attention, plus the fact the promotion would be announced in front of everyone and you had to do a speech, made you very uncomfortable.

You walk into the large crowded room, suits and gowns as far as you can see. A large piano sat in the far corner, where a lady in a lavish blue dress and long black hair played an elegant piece, hitting the keys with perfect precision.

You drag Mark to the bar, insisting on a drink before any greeting, that is until you hear an all too familiar voice behind you. None other than Jackson Wang.

“Mark, my man, it's been a while since y/n’s dragged you along to anything.” He says, no doubt shoving his hand into Marks. You take a few gulps of your martini.

“Another please.” You mouth to the bartender, tapping on the glass.

You finally face Jackson, not even bothering with fake pleasantries.

“Y/n, you look…” he pauses for a moment and clears his throat, “nice.” He says the words as if they would choke him upon their exit and you can't help but roll your eyes.

“Gee, thanks,” you mumble, your nerves of tonight's events, making you far less patient for Jackson Wang than usual.

You two have been practically mortal enemies since his arrival at the company. He has been here half the time, does half the work you do and yet, gets most of the praise. But boy, does he love to rub it in. Everything about him rubs you up the wrong way.

“You seem to be in more of a mood than usual.” He remarks, “I thought you'd be celebrating by now.”

“Yes, well not everyone likes being the centre of attention, Jackson.”

He smiles, seeming awkward at the bite in your retort. “Well, Mark, great to see you as always.” They shake hands and hug once more, before Jackson turns back to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and says, “good luck, y/n.”

Your irritated glare burns holes in his back as he walks away.

“You need to cut him some slack,” Mark's voice sounds next to you, annoyance blooming like a tree inside you, “he was just trying to be nice.”

You fight the urge to snap at him, taking a breath before speaking, “no, nice and Jackson Wang are two words that can't coexist in the same sentence in regards to me. He's nice to you, yes. Me? Absolutely not. He’s sarcastic and loud and he doesn't care about anyone but himself.” You down the rest of your drink and pick up your second that waits for you at the bar.

“I think you're wrong about him. He's just-”

“Chaotic, arrogant, self-centred, conceited. I could go on if none of those work.” You reply dryly, ignoring the eye roll he throws your way.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” your boss on the microphone startles you out of your current conversation and has your stomach doing somersaults. “Can you all gather around, please?”

Mark holds out his arm for you, “shall we?”

Grasping it like your life depends on it, your feet move mechanically towards the crowd at the stage. Your legs feel like they would surely give way under you, if you weren't leaning on him so heavily.

“Now, it's the time we've all been waiting for folks…” he smiles cheerily. “I'll keep this brief, as I know everyone is eager to delve into the celebrations…”

You attempt to control your breaths and hope to slow down your rapid heart beat, pounding alarmingly hard against your rib cage.

“...creative director is a prized position in our company, and so, of course we had to make sure we chose the right person…”

A loud swallow seems to echo around you as you try to quell the dryness in your throat. How on earth will you be able to do a speech?

“...we need someone who will continue to bring in fresh ideas, someone who will create trends and not follow them and someone who will do their best to strive for this company…”

Your ears throb, mimicking your heartbeat and making your boss's words quiet.

“...it is my utmost pleasure to introduce to you, your new creative director…Jackson Wang!”

Your legs wobble and Mark clutches you to his side, his eyes straight on your face. But you couldn't look at him. Instead you're scanning the room, finding Jackson as he climbs the stairs onto the stage. A wide Cheshire grin stretches across his face, too wide not to have known that was coming. Your blood boils in your veins, an unbearable heat rising up through your body and straight to your face, making your head feel aflame. You flash back to his ‘good luck’ to you only mere moments ago and your chest fills fit to burst with a scream you dare not let escape.

All around you a muffled call of “speech, speech,” slamming its way into your ears like a steel drum.

No matter how much you don't want to watch this scene play out, your feet are frozen to the floor beneath you, unable to do anything but stare.

He laughs, “wow, uh, believe it or not, for the first time ever, I'm speechless.”

The crowd erupts into laughter, only infuriating you more as your fists clench into tight balls at your sides.

“Hey, let's get out of here?” Mark says attempting to soothe your anger but you don't miss the slight panic in his tone.

There's a brief moment of Jackson meeting your eyes and you could swear he almost faltered while making his rehearsed speech…almost but he recovers and you can't bear to see anymore. You let Mark lead you slowly out of the large room, following blindly alongside him, numbness taking over.

You both come to a stop in a quiet part of the building with no prying eyes or ears. Mark comes round in front of you, taking both your hands. “I'm sorry, y/n.” He whispers.

A hot tear rolls down your cheek and it's only then you realise your blurry vision is because your eyes are a dam ready to overflow. Cheering in the distance trumps again and you guess he's finished his speech.

“Do you want to go?” Mark asks bending down to try and catch your eyes, but your stare is fixated on the marble flooring.

You did, of course you did. You wanted to run as far away from this as you could but, you were expected to be here, your boss will want to talk to you, no doubt and you don't want anyone thinking you ran off and sulked, especially not Jackson. The last thing you would do is let him see you upset because of him, you wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Swiping harshly at the wet trail down your face, you swallow your pride down and take a deep breath. “I can't, I have to stay.”

He says nothing but nods in understanding.

“Give me a few minutes ok, I'll meet you back inside.”

He eyes you carefully. “Are you sure? I can wait here for you?”

Smiling, you lay a hand on his chest. “I'll be fine, I promise. I'll see you inside.”

Reluctantly he agrees and heads off back into the main venue, looking behind him once to check on you. Once he's out of sight you head to the bathroom to freshen up, needing a moment to collect your thoughts. Thankfully the mirror is unoccupied giving you the chance to touch up your makeup. Smoothing down your dress, you release a steady breath, feeling calmer and more prepared now you are in control of your emotions. However, when you open that bathroom door, you're met with the last face you expected to see waiting for you.

“Y/n,” Jackson breathes, seeming relieved.

Your fists are balled up at your sides in an instant, all your calming positivity thrown out the window from just your name on his lips.

Gritting your teeth to keep your cool prevents you from replying.

“I'm so glad you're still here.” He takes a hesitant step towards you.

“Where else would I be, Jackson?” You snap.

He stills, his face falling and eyes suddenly so sad and vulnerable it hurts your heart. The fact you feel guilty for your response has you doubting your feelings, but you push it aside. No, he's the one that's done this, he's taken something you've worked so hard for.

“Y/n, we need to talk.”

A bitter laugh escapes you, “you're the last person I need to speak to.”

You try to walk past him but his hand comes out, grabbing your arm gentle but firm, your head snapping back to him.

You realise then this is the first time he's ever touched you, unsure as to why that thought enters your head, you push it aside.

“Y/n, please.” His pleading eyes pull at your heart, as confusion muddles your mind further.

Shrugging out of his grasp and folding your arms across your chest, you say, “you have five minutes.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and closes some distance between you. “Thank you.” He smiles, seeming to ease the tension but maybe he's just smug that you've relented.

“I know that we haven't always seen eye to eye,” he starts and you can't help but scoff at the understatement. He ignores and continues, “but I want you to know that I've refused the promotion.”

Your mouth falls agape. Never in a million years would you have guessed that's what he was about to say. “Why would you do that?”

“Call me crazy,” he takes slow steps towards you, your arms fall at your sides even though you feel more tense than ever, “but I think a promotion should be earned.”

You're still waiting for the punchline but when there's only an inch between you, you look up into his dark eyes, open and honest and find your wilful thoughts faltering.

“You've worked harder than anyone in this company to do that and I've expressed that to our managers. You've not been recognised for all the work and revenue you've bought in for them. If I'm honest, I think you'd be better off elsewhere, but that's not my business.” He holds his hands up, surrendering before you can snap at him again. Only this time, your anger and annoyance has dissipated, left with only awe and bemusement in its place.

Your eyes narrow at him, still unwilling to completely let go of the distrust you hold. He smiles at your suspicion. “Feel free to go in and ask Mark, he is my witness, I'm a man of my word.”

There's a long pause, unwavering eyes on one another in the empty corridor, before he swallows and looks at his feet, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

“Anyway, I just wanted you to know. I'll see you around y/n.”

He starts off towards the exit doors and something inside you rises up, unwillingly to stop this conversation, the words fly out of your mouth, “why are you being so nice, now?”

He turns and smiles sadly, “I've been trying to be nice to you for months.”

Instantly, you're ready to argue but he puts a hand up to stop you, “you assume the worst of me and I'm not really sure why?”

For once you are at a loss for words, thinking back to every conversation you've had recently, could you have misinterpreted him? Or was he right, and you've just been looking for a negative brush to tar him with?

“But you're always so…” you're unsure where to start but decide on the least offensive first, “loud.”

“Did it ever occur to you that perhaps, I'm trying to get you to notice me?”

Your eyes snap across to his, feeling sure you would see the teasing in his eyes and when you don't, you feel more confused than ever. “Well, what about this, you tease me so often I never know when you're serious.”

He takes a step towards you. “I tease you to make you laugh.”

“But what about when you're always showing off?”

Another step closer. “Once again, trying to get you to notice me.”

You're desperately trying to connect a puzzle in your head but the pieces just don't seem to fit.

“But why?”

He laughs, shaking his head at you and swiping a hand through his hair, a move that he makes looks so devastating, your thoughts still. “I like you, y/n, I have since I started working here. I was hoping our fiery banter would turn into something more but…I never realised how much you despised me until tonight.”

A rock of guilt and disappointment lands in the pit of your stomach at his words.

“I'm sorry, truly, I didn't mean for there to be any miscommunication or to have upset you in any way. I should have just been up front and honest sooner,” he explains, making you feel worse.

Standing here looking at him now, how sincere and exposed he is, you realise what an idiot you've been.

The office is always full of laughter when he's around, something you'd assumed was at your expense, but he was aiming for your laughter instead. He was always speaking up in meetings, trying to pitch his ideas, you'd assumed he was talking over you and attempting to prove he's better, but it was all for your attention. Every compliment he'd given you had seemed sarcastic and full of mocking, instead he was just being awkward and unsure of how to communicate with you.

“No,” you say, closing the distance between you, “I was wrong, I read you completely wrong, all due to my own stubborn and selfish thoughts. I'm sorry, Jackson.”

The blush that crept across his cheeks was something you'd never imagined and made him look even more handsome.

A slow melody sounds around you, echoing down from the main function.

He clears his throat and holds out a hand to you. “Could I be so bold as to ask you to dance?”

You hesitate, although you're surprised at how badly you want to. “Here?”

He nods, a breathtaking smirk plays on his lips and needing no more encouragement, you take his hand and let him pull you to him. His arm wraps around your waist, holding you to him as your feet move perfectly in sync, slow and deliberate.

Neither of you say a word for the entire song, just enjoying the closeness, though unexpected and when the music stops so do your feet.

“I always thought you hated me.” You can't help the nervous laughter that escapes as your bodies remain pressed together.

He looks down at you, hooking a finger under your chin, “I'd rather fight with you, than be with anyone else.”

You realise now how serious he is, how much he means everything he's said to you and…much to your surprise, how much you want him too.

Without overthinking or second guessing, you grab the lapels of his blazer and pull him down towards you. He eagerly obliges. Not before cupping your face with gentle hands and touching his lips, softly but assertively to yours.

Your mouths explore each other in a passionate dance, tongues swirling and lips moving together perfectly, until you're both breathless and pulling away, fighting for air.

“You wanna get out of here?” You ask, your core throbbing with an unexplored want.

He nods frantically, pulling out his phone and requesting a cab.

“Come on, 2 minutes.” He takes your hand and pulls you towards the exit but as you leave the main doors and the chilly night air hits you, you remember someone.

“Wait, I need to find Mark.”

“No need, princess,” Mark's voice sounds from behind and you spin to see him casually leaning against the wall. “I'm waiting for a taxi as we speak, you go and have fun.” He winks at you and you resist the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl.

“See Mark, I knew I liked you.” Jackson says before leading you back down the steps and to your waiting car.

“Hurt her and I'll break you in half!” Mark calls out and you can't help but laugh, knowing how serious he is.

As Jackson pulls open the door of the cab you slide in, he follows you in quickly and slams the door.

“Your place or mine?” He asks.

“Mine’s closer.” You rattle off your address to the driver, before your mouth is on Jackson’s again.

Feeling needy and eager as his hands explore a pathway down your body, you resist the urge to climb on top of him.

“Did I mention how good you look in that dress?” He whispers against your lips.

“Not really no,” you respond, as your lips make their way down his neck, relishing the way his breath hitches in his throat.

“As soon as I saw you tonight, all I could think of was peeling this off of you.” He grabs at the material around your legs, bunching up to reveal your flesh. His fingers skate slowly up your thigh but he pauses and grabs them instead, letting out a frustrated growl. “I’ve wanted you for so long, these last few moments feel unbearable.”

You feel powerful and confident as you decide to make matters worse for him. Gliding a hand up his muscular thigh until you reach his crotch, you can feel his erection through the fabric of his trousers and you palm at it teasingly. He sucks in a breath and then holds it, biting his bottom lip with pleading eyes aimed at you. Smiling, you have to resist the urge to unzip him right there but the car comes to a stop, much to your relief.

Jackson tips the driver and helps you out of the vehicle.

Grabbing his hand, you race to your front door, fumbling to find your keys in your purse with the other hand. He presses the front of his body against your back, his hands wandering all over you, exploring an urgent pathway that makes you want to melt against him. The click of the lock has you growling with fervour, as you roughly push your way inside your apartment. Spinning, your lips are on his, burning with a passion you've never experienced, as your hands are whipping off his tie and rapidly tackling the button on his trousers. Your hands slide up under his shirt while he clumsily tries to undo the buttons, you however, have no time for that. Ripping open his shirt, and hearing the spray of the buttons as they scatter around your living room floor.

“Sorry.” You whisper breathlessly.

The smile you feel against your mouth tells you he doesn't care one bit, and before you know it, you're stumbling through your bedroom until your back knocks into your dresser.

His hand grasps the back of your knees suddenly, and before you can register, he's scooping your legs up and lifting you onto the wooden top. He glides the material of your dress up and over your head, only briefly breaking the contact between your bodies, before slotting himself in between your legs

His fingers find the hem of your underwear and pull them off quicker than you anticipate, having to hold yourself onto the edge of your dresser.

Your fingers run along the hard muscles of his chest and down his stomach, you're desperate to have him inside you. No thoughts of teasing and drawing this out, you wanted him to quench this unbearable thirst, now.

Reaching inside his briefs, you free his erection from its clothed prison, he's rock hard in your hand and you can't help the desperate whine that escapes you. Lining him up to your entrance, you use your legs to guide him in.

He pulls his lips off you and searches your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. “Are you sure?”

You nod frantically, “please, Jackson, I need you.”

His mouth connects to yours, more hungry and desperate than before and he pushes himself forward slowly, sliding into you and stretching you open.

The resounding groan from the two of you, sounds animalistic and raw. No holding back, just giving in to your feelings and desires.

Watching each other intently, panting with excitement, time seems to slow down. The mood changes around you. Having him in such an intimate manner opens your eyes, seeing him clearer than ever, as if for the first time. You hold his face, pulling him down to you with a kiss that's different, not full of eagerness and impatience, but comfort and understanding.

When he bottoms out in you, he pauses, savouring the moment between you, tongues dancing softly together but it's not long before you find your impatience growing again. With your legs hooked around the back of his, you pull him forward, and grind yourself up against him, willing him to move.

He grunts and gets the message before he's pumping in and out of you in a perfect rhythm, making your heart pound wildly in your chest, so loud you can hear the echo in your ears, thumping away.

He grabs at your bra and pulls it down, freeing your breasts, his hands are on them in an instant, massaging them.

The sound of your dresser squeaking under the movements and pressure beneath you, only turns you on more, at this point, it could collapse under you and you'd still continue on their tirade.

Your hands find his buttocks, squeezing the flesh as you control his movements, wanting him harder and faster, the pressure building up inside at an alarming rate.

You admire his body, toned to perfection, your gaze travelling up to watch his face, as his eyes are solely focused on his dick sliding in and out of you. The groans coming out of him are so sinful it makes you feel hot inside, too hot, like your skin could burn off your body at any minute and as the pressure inside grows intense, you realise you're dangerously close to a very powerful orgasm.

“Just like that,” you gasp, unable to say much more from the pleasure tightening everything and strangling your words.

“You close, baby?” He asks, eyes on your face as you nod. He smiles, looking pleased with himself, “I want to see how pretty you look when you come.” He bites his own lip, as if trying to hold off his own climax. The idea of that is all you need for the pleasure bubble inside you to pop and your body contracts aggressively around him, as you’re blinded by white light.

“Oh, yes.” He whispers, as he holds your face towards him, while he helps you ride out your high. The pulses continue on until they die down and suddenly he's pulling out of you and pumping himself with his hand, until he explodes all over your stomach and chest, leaving white ropes of ecstasy as evidence on your skin.

Leaving your head on his chest, trying to catch your breath, he strokes the skin on your back.

After a few peaceful moments, he places his knuckle under your chin and lifts your head up towards him, planting a tender kiss to your lips.

“Come,” he says, pulling up his trousers and then scooping you up in his arms to take you to your bed.

Your eyelids feel heavy and you can feel the adrenaline leaving your body as you curl up into his side, the last thing you remember is his lips against your forehead.

Opening your eyes, you're met with bright sunlight streaming through your window, you can hardly keep them open. Rolling from your front to your side and feeling for your phone on the bedside table, you check the time. 10.05. Not too late for a Sunday. Glancing down you notice your naked body, as the memories from last night's events come back thick and fast as you sit bolt upright, eyes darting around the room.

“Jackson!” You call out through the ajar bedroom door, wondering if he's somewhere else in the flat.

Silence.

Your stomach sinks slightly. Did you fall for a complete fabrication of feelings for a one night stand? Checking your phone; there's no missed calls or messages from him. Flopping back down on your bed, you pull the sheet over your head, feeling embarrassed and stupid and wanting nothing more than to hide away from the world. How were you going to face him at work tomorrow? Did any of your colleagues see you leave together? The thought churns your stomach, regret starting to seep in, hurting your chest with every new thought or worry.

A noise in the distance distracts you momentarily from the chaotic thoughts using your brain as a roundabout. You sit up, hearing someone moving around in your kitchen, could it be him?

You get out of bed quickly and quietly, pulling on some shorts and a vest, giving yourself a quick check in your mirror, that's when you notice your makeup and other items that neatly sat on your dresser, scattered all over the floor. A flush travels up your neck with the images from last night.

You swallow them down and tiptoe out into the open plan living room and kitchen.

There he stands, dressed in his suit trousers and shirt, at the counter, putting something on a plate, humming quietly to himself. The sight pulls in your chest and you can't help the smile that pulls your mouth as you lean casually against your door frame.

He turns towards you, carrying a tray with what looks like an iced coffee, panini, a plastic bowl of fruit and pancakes. When his eyes notice you, he freezes, his cheeks flush red briefly as he beams at you. A smile so captivating you can't believe you didn't appreciate it before.

“Hi,” you break the silence first.

“Morning,” he says, dreamily, then shaking his head as if to snap himself out of his daze, he adds, “I thought you might like breakfast. I didn't know what you'd like, so I got a selection.” He stands there, seeming awkward, his usual confidence gone.

You walk towards him, taking the tray and placing it on your dining table. “It all looks amazing, and very thoughtful. Thank you, there is something I'd like for breakfast.”

He frowns, bewildered from your actions, as you watch his Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows. You close any distance between you, playing with his shirt and notice the question in his eyes.

“You.” You reply, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

He's on you in an instant, lips dancing hungrily with yours as he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, leaving your breakfast waiting for when you've stated the hunger you feel for him.

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