#GOT7 Jackson Wang fanfiction

[pars-ley]

Come Alive (part one)

Pairing: Jackson Wang x female reader Summary: A night out with your friends takes a very unexpected turn when a gorgeous, kindhearted stranger offers to pretend to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention. All you can think about is the prospect of what could be…but for him, it’s not that simple. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / series / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: Making out / mentions of heartbreak / mentions of cheating (not by main characters) / slight stalking or predatory behaviour from non named, small character. W/C: 3.9k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @flurrys-creativity for being lovely and helpful as always. Notes: I’m back from abyss of life/work/kids and I'm writing again, if anyone still cares. I’m working on more kpop fanfic and going to try to post as regularly as I can. Please, comment and share, it really helps keep the motivation of writing going, thank you for anyone who reads! This is part one of approx five parts.

Feeling unwelcome eyes on you as you move further into the crowd to escape, gives you a knot in the pit of your stomach that pulls tightly on your insides. You try not to but end up glancing back at the man you're attempting to get away from, only to discover your suspicions are correct, he is watching your retreat with annoyance etched across his brow.

Why do some guys find the word ‘no’ such a hard answer to accept?

It's not like you were rude about it, in fact, you went out of your way to be as nice as possible but clearly, it didn't soften the blow.

You head to the bar, figuring you'll be safe for a while if you can talk to the bar staff, and pull out your phone, staring at the same message of "on our way" in your group chat. That was twenty minutes ago and you were still waiting. 

Your decision to get ready at work and come from there instead of pre drinking with the girls, now looks like a mistake.

Your gaze travels nervously back to the stranger and your stomach drops at seeing him moving slowly towards you through the crowd. For the love of…

“Can I be of any assistance?” A deep male voice sounds to your right, causing your head to snap over to the figure in the neighbouring bar stool. 

You're greeted by a handsome face with perfect features marred with a deep frown, as he nods his head in the persistent strangers direction. “He's making you uncomfortable,” he says matter-of-factly. 

You nod, surprised anyone has even noticed, the dancefloor of the club was very busy. 

“You can say that again.” You respond before ordering another drink. “Is he still heading this way?” You ask, afraid to look for yourself.

You watch the handsome stranger’s face explore the crowd, eyes scanning faces but you know when he's found him by the way darkness sweeps across his features. “He seems to be assessing the situation, just a short distance away.”

You sigh and take a long sip of your drink. “In that case, can you pretend we know each other? Then he might just decide to leave me alone.”

His responding smile is dazzling and has your mouth stretching up in a mirroring grin. 

“Not a problem, just go with me ok?” He says, as he slides your bar stool towards him, so your knees are in between his legs. “If you feel uncomfortable with anything I do, at any point, just say the word and I'll stop.” He says, leaning into your ear. “Now,” he pulls back slightly and tucks your hair behind your ear, in such a gentle manner you barely feel it, “firstly, i'm Jackson.”

His fingers softly trail down the length of your arm sending a shiver down your spine that you find yourself relishing in, rather than shying away from this complete stranger. There's oddly something comforting and wholesome about him.

“Secondly, how do you want to play this?” His hand comes to rest lightly on your thigh and when your eyes go from that to his face, your gaze locks and you can't look away. Focused on his brown eyes and how intense they stare back at you, you note a hint of sadness in them that he's trying to conceal and wonder what's the cause. 

You frown trying to understand the question he's just asked and what he means and when his mouth pulls up in a smile your eyes follow the movement.

“In the instances I've seen, men like this back off faster if they think you're with a boyfriend or love interest?” He watches you carefully, assessing your reaction.

You swallow, his scent swirling around you, like fresh linen with an underline of sweetness, is making it hard to focus, especially when the heat from his hand still on your leg is radiating through your body. 

“Yes,” you clear your throat and shift in your seat, “fine with me.”

“Like I said, at any point you're not comfortable, just say the word and I'll stop, ok?”

You nod, “got it.”

With a wide eyed smile, he takes your hand and entwines his fingers with yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles on your wrist. 

“Thank you,” you say, leaning into him slightly as you settle into your new role. “I'm waiting for my friends but they're late.”

He smiles and pushes the hair off your shoulder as he leans into your ear. “Happy to be of service, there are much worse things than pretending to be a beautiful stranger's boyfriend.”

Your cheeks grow hot at his words and you're thankful that he can't see from his position. 

“And why are you here drinking alone?” You attempt to deflect the focus from yourself, wanting to know more about him but you're aware of how his body stiffens at the question, only briefly, before relaxing again as he leans back away from you slightly. “Ah,” he sighs, “I'm attempting to ease the pain of heartbreak by drinking myself into oblivion.” His eyes avoid yours but you catch the raw emotion in them before they do. 

“I'm so sorry,” you comfortingly squeeze the hand he still holds of yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He brings your fingers to his mouth and kisses them, you’re mesmerised by how soft his lips are against your skin, not to mention how tender the action is.

He smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes, doesn't even come close. “Pretty clichéd stuff, I don't want to bore you with it.”

You hook a knuckle under his chin and tilt his head up, until he meets your gaze again. “Try me.”

His face visibly softens, eyebrows knitted together in anguish, he looks torn as unsure whether to share his story or if he should continue acting out your pretence. “I, er, found my girlfriend sleeping with one of my best friends.” He shrugs and shakes his head as if trying to push away the image. “I've now lost two people I cared deeply about and to be honest, I feel kind of baffled right now.”

You sit and watch as he surveys the crowd, clearly trying to distract himself from the pain. Your heart actually hurts for him. Here he was, so hurt and yet still trying to help you out and make your evening better.

“I know it's easy to say but I've been there, it does get easier.” You give him a reassuring smile, “and it may not help much right now, but it sounds to me like they're the ones who have lost something, not you.”

His face softens and his lips twitch up into a slight smile. “I appreciate that.”

Peeling your eyes away from him for the first time since you began your conversation, you take a large sip of your drink and relish the sweetness as it goes down.

Jackson looks over in the direction of the other guy. “He is persistent, isn't he?” It was clearly his turn to change the subject.

Rolling your eyes you shift closer to Jackson. “How do you feel about giving him a bit of a show?” 

His eyebrow arches as he turns his head slowly back in your direction. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Kiss me. I'm sure he'll get the hint then.” 

You see something flash in Jackson's eyes but before you can recognise what it is, it's gone as quick as it appeared. “You sure?”

Feeling yourself smiling shyly, you look up at him through your lashes, “absolutely. Only if you're comfortable with it, of course?”

“Definitely.” He whispers, standing from his stool and nudging your knees apart slightly to get closer. As he towers above you, his hands come up and gently cup either side of your jaw, arching your face up towards him, he leans down but pauses merely inches away, “you never told me your name.” 

His breath tickling your skin only draws you in more. 

“Y/n,” you reply almost breathlessly, as your heart gallops like a horse on a race track, eager to get to the finish line. 

He smiles sweetly. “Nice to meet you, y/n.” 

You take note of his blown out pupils and know, judging by the throbbing from between your legs, yours surely matches his. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and all you can do is watch as his head tilts slightly and he begins to close the space between you. His unbearably slow manoeuvre is deliberate but you grow impatient to know what his lips feel like against yours and before you register the movement, you’re grabbing his shirt and pulling him against you. 

His soft lips crash against yours and you hear his small, surprised moan as his hand suddenly finds the base of your neck, keeping you in place as he slots himself between your legs.

Behind your closed lids, all you can see is a cloudy red as heat and lust bloom inside you, sending a flush across your skin you've not experienced before. It awakens a hunger inside you that is very unexpected. The noise around you disappears as you're acutely aware of your heart pounding in your ears. The feel of your blood rushing through your veins, making your body throb with excitement, nerves raw with want. It had been a long time since you'd kissed a stranger, and a longer time since you'd let your defences down and given into a base desire. 

His hand entwines with yours before pulling you up on your feet, hearing the screech of the bar stool as it’s pushed away from you before he turns your body to the bar and cages you in, pressing his hard body against you. Your mouth devours him hungrily and when your tongue reaches out tentatively, he welcomes you in.

He tastes sweet and woody with a hint of spice, making you wonder what he was drinking but unable to focus on much apart from the sensual way he’s kissing you, slow, intentional and yet, intensely urgent.

Your mouths dance together, perfectly in sync in their own private serenade, with your hands exploring and finding their way up around his neck, fingers gripped into his hair to keep him close to you. When he moans into your mouth, you almost lose all composure as you break apart to take a breath and take control by spinning and shoving him against the bar. He arches an eyebrow in surprise as you feel his hand snake around your waist, pulling you back against him. His fingers dig into your back keeping you firmly in place, not that you want to move anywhere else at this moment. 

His scent swirls around you, sweeping you up and carrying you away, an absolute hurricane for your senses. Just when it all feels too much and when you're squeezing your thighs together for some semblance of relief, he pulls away, leaving you gasping and full of want.

He pants, breath fanning out over your face as your bodies still remain flush against each other.

The silence between you is so thick you could almost slice it with a blade. Something in your eyes reflects in his, where you both seem to revel in the sudden sexual tension between you. He remains clinging to you and the radiating heat of his body muddles your thoughts and leaves you wanting nothing more than to melt further into his embrace. This feeling between you is nothing like you were used to, passionate beyond belief. How can a stranger have you feeling this way? All you know is his name, and yet, there was something so comforting about him, so familiar.

His thumb strokes along your jaw as his mouth pulls into a smile, the action; so gentle it makes you want to lean into it but you resist.

“Wow.” He finally breaks the silence with a husky whisper.

“Wow.” You repeat, still shocked at your body's reaction to him.

You clear your throat, an attempt to also clear your hazy head and bring yourself back down to earth.

Jackson's gaze flutters begrudgingly away from you. “It worked,” he says, returning his dark eyes to you, holding your neck and studying your face like you were the Mona Lisa. “He's gone.”

If you were honest, you no longer care about the man in question, he is nothing but a tiny speck on your radar, ready to be flicked away, as if he were nothing better than a microscopic bug on a windshield. Jackson, however, is the beautiful sunset view stretched out in front of you.

Your phone vibrating in your jeans pocket makes you jump, snapping you out of whatever trance you'd been in, as you scramble to answer it, recognising one of your friends on the caller id.

“Sorry,” you say to him, as your body suddenly feels cold without him pressed against you.

He smiles but gives you the room you need.

“Hello, Jennie?”

“Babe, I'm so sorry.” You hear over the line, apology evident in her tone.

“Don't worry about it, but where the fuck are you guys?”

There's a pause long enough you have to check you still have reception, you put your finger in your other ear. “Jennie?”

“Didn't you get my messages? We're not coming.”

You pull your phone away from your ear and see you have seven unread messages from her, letting out an audible groan, you return the phone to your ear. “Why? What happened?”

“Rose and Lisa both have that stomach thing that's been going around, they're here at my place…throwing up, Jisoo turned up and fled the scene as soon as she could, not that i blame her.” 

You grimace, that does not sound fun, or like anything you want to be a part of. “Ok,” you sigh, attempting to get your head on straight, “do you need anything?”

“A hazmat suit?” She laughs and you can't help but do the same, even if her night has definitely turned out worse than yours.

You notice Jackson glance at you, hearing a one sided conversation but clearly trying not to listen in.

“Na, I'm good, girl. I'm so sorry about tonight, will you be ok getting home?”

You roll your eyes, “I'm a grown woman, I think I can manage to get a cab by myself.”

You hear an amused breath down the phone. 

“I'll call you tomorrow, ok?” You say. “Let me know if you need me to swing by at all.”

“No, go on without me, save yourself…,” her voice gets quieter as she hangs up, making you giggle. 

“Everything ok?” Jackson asks, genuine concern furrowing his brow.

You sigh, returning to your stool at the bar, “I got stood up.”

He frowns and joins you, taking his seat. “By your friends?” 

You nod, unsure whether you want to go home just yet or get to know Jackson a bit more. “Two of them have got some kind of bug.” 

There’s a moment of pensive silence between you.

“Before I spotted you,” he starts, “I was about to leave, I'd been staring into an empty glass long enough.”

You take note of the sudden sadness in his tone and your heart strings tug in his direction.

“If you're ready to go, we can share a cab, if you like?” He asks, seeming somewhat hesitant, amusing seeing as he had his tongue down your throat only a moment ago.

“Sure, that would be great.” 

You can't help the disappointment you feel settling into the pit of your stomach, clearly not ready to cut the night short with him but, understanding in his current heartbreak state, it may not be the best time. 

He grabs his jacket from the chair, draping it over his arm, then pulls out his phone and books a taxi on his app. “Should be here in seven minutes. Shall we head out?”

Nodding, you take the hand he offers you and let him lead you out through the compact crowd on the dancefloor.

The cold night air hits you, a stark contrast to the heat you felt inside, and you feel foolish for not bringing a jacket, forgetting how cool the night air can be.

A shiver runs through you, as you fold your arms across your chest at an attempt to stave off the chill. Jackson must notice, as something caresses your shoulders and when you look down, his jacket is draped around you.

“No, no, it's ok–” 

“I'm afraid I have to insist,” he cuts you off with a challenging smirk and you relent, pulling the thick material around you.

“Thank you,” you reply quietly, as you both walk slowly to the corner of the next road, away from the main entrance of the club.

“So what do you do in your spare time, aside from playing the part of ‘knight in shining armour’?” You ask, into the sudden awkward silence.

His responding laugh lights up the darkness of the night, coupled with a smile so bright that even the sun must envy him.

“That's not a title I've had before.” He glances at you shyly, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “You want the run down of me huh?”

You nod encouragingly.

“Ok, well, I have a lot of active hobbies, I go running almost everyday, rock climbing at the weekends, I love basketball and I did fencing as a child so I occasionally dip a toe back into it. Aside from that, I play piano and write music, I can speak four languages, I’m allergic to cats, I really hate spicy food, I have an older brother and I work for a fashion company.”

He shrugs at the end like none of it was the slightest bit impressive as you try to process the information.

“You speak four languages?” You ask, unable to hide the shock.

He nods and smiles bashfully. “I mean, yeah, I guess so.”

“How? One is hard enough but four, you’re just gluten for punishment really.”

He laughs again. “Hey, I didn’t say I didn’t find it hard, I guess I'm just very determined.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you pause when you come to the corner and perch on the wall of one of the buildings, the cold stone through your jeans causes you to shiver.

“Your turn.” He takes a seat next to you, watching your face, awaiting your response.

You pause, thinking if you had anything as interesting as that to tell him, feeling slightly embarrassed by your dull life. “Well, I'm not as interesting as you but, I too go running a few times a week and I go to yoga class twice a week, that’s all the physical activity I partake in. I work for an animation studio, which is my dream job and I love it there. I also have an older brother, who annoys the hell out of me but he’s my favourite person in the whole world, although I'd die if he ever found that out.” You both laugh and you can’t help but notice the genuine interest twinkling in his eyes as you talk. “I love lazy sundays of sleeping in, reading and ordering take out. Going out for breakfast is my favourite weekend activity and I’m a sucker for a dessert. I'll choose sweet over savoury every day of the week.”

He opens his mouth to speak but the taxi honking his horn as he arrives in front of you, makes you both jump and steals your attention.

Jackson holds the door open for you and you slide in along the leather seats. Inside it smells of perfume, alcohol and take away, you waste no time opening the window on your side as he climbs in next to you. You tell the driver your address as you're the first drop off and your short journey begins.

“That's quite a statement,” Jackson says over the quiet music on the radio, brow heavy with confusion. “Sweet over savoury?”

“There's not a doubt in my mind about it,” you reiterate, “desserts are the queens of meals.” 

“But what about starters?”

You shrug. “I think they're overrated.”

His mouth pops open as he stares at you, the action so comical you can't help but erupt with laughter. 

“Listen, I could take you to a dessert place that would literally change your life, and I can guarantee you'd move over to my way of thinking.”

He raises a brow. “I love your confidence. I just might have to accept that challenge.”

Your stomach flips at the prospect of seeing him again as you try to quell the excitement blooming inside you. “Well, you better get ready to lose.” You poke your tongue out at him and do not fail to notice the way his eyes travel hungrily to the action but before either of you have a chance to act on it, the car pulls to a stop.

“I think this is you,” Jackson says, getting out of the car and rushing around to open your door. You take the hand he holds out to you and let him pull you gently from the cab. When you’re upright you realise then how close your bodies are once again, basking in the heat from his body and definitely no longer needing the jacket. You tilt your head up to him and your eyes connect in a heated, yet hesitant stare. His hands linger at your hips, suddenly unsure where the boundary is.

“Thank you, for tonight,” you say quietly, every movement seeming so loud outside your apartment building. 

“It was my pleasure.” He smirks and the way your core clenches has you releasing a shaky breath. “Thank you, for taking my mind off things tonight. You proved there is enjoyment after heartbreak, I've barely thought about my ex whilst in your company.”

Your mouth turns up in a smile before you can try and stop it. “I'm happy to oblige any time.”

He opens his mouth but closes it again, eyes still focused on yours but glazed with conflict. “I know the timing isn't great, but would you maybe want to have dinner…or dessert sometime?”

You laugh at the conversation in the cab. Your heart swells in your chest and you take a breath to quell your excitement. “If I give you my number, then you can message me when you're ready, how about that?”

He nods, features soft, kind eyes sweeping over your face as he hands you his phone. This man is so intense, you find it hard to focus on anything, even breathing feels like a struggle when his gaze is on you. You type in your number and save it, before handing it back. He leans in and for a second you prepare yourself for another wild, steamy kiss, but instead his lips meet your cheek in a gentle caress, a featherlight touch that has you wanting more but understanding it's not the right time for him.

You smile and walk over to your building, turning to have one last look at him as you pass the threshold and only regretting it with how devastatingly handsome he looks leaning up against the car, watching and waiting for you to get home safely. As he waves and gives you one last smile so sexy you bite your lips as you watch the door close, separating the two of you and ending your surprising night with him.

[mykoreanlove]

You're sick

The number you have dialed is not in service. Please call again later.

What the actual fuck? Jackson took another puff of his cigarette before reaching for his drink again. She blocked me? She fucking blocked me?! He took another sip of the brown liquor, not even feeling the burn in this throat anymore. The only thing he felt was anger. His eyes were glued to the screen, still unable to process what has happened. How could you block me? I’m Jackson Wang from China for fuck’s sake. He took another long sip sadly accepting the fact that even his fame couldn’t guarantee him a shot at love.

You’re sick. Those were your final words to him. He replayed you saying that hundreds of times. You had that painful look in your reddened eyes, tears straining your flushed cheeks, breath stuck in your throat as you let go of him. Jackson spit out the nastiest things as his ego was taking a blow right there. He watched you pack your stuff and leave his apartment, leaving him for good.

At least you didn’t cheat on him. He smirked devilishly thinking that this was some kind of progress since the girl before you fooled him for weeks on end. But if he was honest with himself it didn’t feel like progress at all. It felt like heartbreak, like suffering, like a never-ending loneliness that has crept into his bones. At this point in his life those feelings felt like a part of him. You were right, he thought to himself, I am sick.

Jackson poured himself another glass as he was remembering the first few weeks he shared with you. He liked the excitement of becoming yours - being glued to his phone eagerly anticipating your texts became normal, having someone to share the highs and lows of his days with felt so natural and you giving him all of your attention made him feel so important.

He adored the passion you elicited in him – staying up most nights to explore your body thrilled him, being the one fucking you brainless turned him on endlessly and cuddling you to sleep while stealing sweet kisses made him domestic.

He loved forming a true connection with you - opening up about his struggles was easy since you’ve always been so empathetic, holding you in his arms under the stars while planning the future seemed logical and falling in love was inevitable, especially for someone as love-addicted as Jackson.

This sweet feeling of love took over his whole being which made him noticeably happier. Jackson finally felt like he was appreciated for who he was as a man and not for being an artist. He didn’t even care that he had to slow down his career, so that he could spend more time with you. He didn’t care about music sales, brand deals or future career options – all he cared about was you.

Until he didn’t.

His mind got pestered with doubts, anxiety clouding his every thought. What if this was too good to be true? What if you left him in the end? What if relationships weren’t just his thing? Could he really neglect his career for you? After all, his career would never wake up and abandon him one day…

Jackson felt himself slipping into old patterns. This was no longer the confident man that you fell for but a coward that shied away from love and gave into fear. Unable to stop his inner demons, he gave into them, turning into a self-sabotaging monster once again. Better hurting you than getting hurt himself, right?

He gulped down the remains of the liquor and let out a desperate sigh. Why did I do this? Why am I so stupid? He ran his hand through his blonde hair, tugging on it as if self-harm would ease his self-inflected pain. He thought about the downfall of your relationship: Joyful calls turned into silence, sweet acts of love turned into egocentric ignorance and soulful connection turned into manipulation. This was no longer a blooming relationship; this was him having his way with you. He controlled you by giving you love if he needed it and tossed you aside if you came too close to him. Jackson often wondered how long you’d play this game with him, how much it took to break you. Turns out that fucking his dancer in front of you did the trick. Crying and arguing got replaced with your silence – this was you being done with him. This was him being left with his sickness – once again.

[kcake555]

Jackson Wang cake 🍰

[soultiesblog]

⠀ ⌕⠀› querida, bambi

ⓘ informações adicionais↷

⠀· jackson wang (got7) + joy (red velvet)

⠀· você encontrará possivelmente os materiais aqui

⠀· em caso de inspiração, dê os devidos créditos ♡

[kwanisms]

please note that I am no longer actively writing for got7 and that by putting this groups in the 'archive' does not necessarily mean I will stop writing for them entirely. Any series originally planned for any members in the archive have either been put in the vault or recasted.

🔞 many of these works contain sexual content (18+ mdni) 🔞 ♤ — angst :: ♡ — fluff :: ♧ — smut ✍ — ongoing :: ⊝ — hiatus :: ⊗ — discontinued :: ✓ — completed

— oneshots

»» First Time ♧ i. jaebeom

➥ 3.1k; Y/N's first time with her boyfriend

»» Second Time ♧ i. jaebeom

➥ 3.1k; ever since her first time with her boyfriend, Y/N has felt like he was holding back. so she decides to see for herself what he's really like in bed.

»» Never Mine ♤ w. jackson

➥ 2.3k; jackson has fallen in love with Y/N, only there's a problem. Jinyoung is her boyfriend.

»» the Day Death Fell in Love ♤♧ p. jinyoung

➥ 12.5k; they say you only become a grim reaper if you've done something terrible in a past life. Whether or not that's true, Jinyoung didn't care. He had a job to do and he did his job well, guiding souls to the afterlife. That is, until he met Y/N.

ⓘ DISCLAIMER :: MONSTER/ALIEN FUCKER ENTHUSIAST ⓘ ©️ kwanisms 2024 | all works on this blog are protected under copyright. Do not repost, continue, or translate my works. All graphics made by me.

[hoodiejaebum]

where do y'all read your fics these days?

is it ao3 or like. bc I literally only see people with 25 notes and their fics are decent in the got7 tag so yall have to be going somewhere else or there's rly only this many ahgase here

[write-it-good-imagines]

Nothing More(M) - Three

~5k words, in this chapter we see how Mark and Sam navigate being apart from one another and how rain washes over the souls. Enjoy and don't hesitate to let me know what you think about it!

Don’t you want to try it? Are you scared to start? There’s no one you’ll find that’s quite like me.

Do you wanna take my broken heart?

Fame, music, concerts, freedom, artistry. In a fruitless attempt to sum up all that being an artist meant to Mark, the ability to walk up on the stage in front of as many as 60,000 people was exhilarating. It never stopped being meaningful. To inspire another person enough to have them watch and admire thyself was not only a privilege but also a responsibility.

Each concert began with the same mantra, it would be safe to assume for each of the seven members was the same. Each time they would walk on and make sure they enjoyed themselves to the maximum, as much as they made sure they would do their best. In the tumult of the shows, there was now something different.

All the love songs sounded a little different.

When the love song was hopeful, Mark performed happier. When the love song was desperate, Mark performed sadder. It all played a bigger part in the tapestry of each performance, but it would never go unnoticed by those closest to him.  With each show, the emotion grew little by little. And as much as Mark tried to dismiss it to the back of his head, it sneaked right back in when the lights turned down.

It always came back when he wanted to forget.

When the lights turned down over Jakarta, the boys were still bowing to the audience. Under the ravenous applause and the avalanche of confetti, the platform on the stage brought the boys down under the concert set. Another night ended in complete success.

Mark was the last one to dispose of his ear set. He stretched his arms above his head and felt a cramp starting to settle at his nape.

“Mark?” Jackson traced behind the group to match his pace with the other. “You good?”

“Yeah,” sighed Mark, massaging the tense muscles in his neck. “Just a little tired I guess.”

“Huh, we still have one week and a half to go, if you’re tired now... “ Jackson joked and nudged Mark with his elbow. “Getting old?”

Mark threw an arm around Jackson’s shoulder in a friendly hug. “No chance.”

“Passionate out there I’d say.” Jackson began, fidgeting. “Each concert getting only more passionate.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Aren’t we supposed to be like that?”

Silence.

“No?”

“I mean, sure.”

Jackson shrugged his shoulders. That’s when it hit Mark.

“Should’ve asked me to my face, Jackson.”

Jackson sighed. “I’m not good at subtleties!” He cleared his throat. “But you haven’t told us nothing in… ever since we left.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jackson.”

Jackson stopped dead in his tracks, looking at the other with a much softer expression than he would have liked.

“There really isn’t.” Mark concluded, walking ahead of Jackson. “I am the sex. She was the sex. That’s it.”

Mark grabbed a bottle of water from an adjacent table to drown out the words, and the apparent reality. Spelling out loud that they never spoke after he flied out left a burn to his throat.

A couple thousand miles away, Samantha was jerking her body to the other side of the bed. She extended her hand to grab a hold of her phone. 2:15 AM. With a light groan, she threw her feet into her bed slippers, rose from the bed, and hugged her body into her bathrobe. Murphy perked an ear up in response to the sudden movement, but he was not interested enough to follow Samantha from his nest.

Samantha opened the kitchen window to fill her lungs with a breath of fresh air. When she unlocked her phone, she realized that her latest google search was still pointing to Mark’s band’s latest concert.

Jakarta: more than 20,000 fans delirious after boyband’s successful stop.

Live pictures from the concert were quick to flood the internet. Samantha’s finger hovered over a very flattering picture of Mark, half-naked on stage, his chiseled abdomen contracting with whatever movement he was making. One arm was lifted in the air to hype the crowd, the other holding up his microphone. The tattoo reaching over his right set of ribs was vivid to the eye.

The kiss in the locker of the club flashed into Samantha’s memory.

Samantha locked her phone and slid it across the kitchen counter, leaning herself against the window frame, with one arm hugging her side. To the contrary, what should have come to mind should have been the dirtier times, all the times her fingernails drew over his tattoos, reshaping them into muscle memory.

She sighed, her eyes fixated on the shimmering full moon. If she called, would he pick up?

“Probably not. He has all those girls to keep him busy.” Samantha lied to herself, unable to resist the urge to pick up her phone. She hesitated, reading Mark’s name on the screen over and over again. Until she tapped on it.

Once, twice… “Mark?”

The call went to voicemail. Her voice deflated in disappointment.

“All those girls to keep him busy.”

The next dawn, Samantha was already ready to leave for the hospital. Sleep was light and uncertain, and she tried to mask it with concealer and foundation. In a haste to leave the house, she grabbed her motorcycle helmet, to catch a ride in hopes of easing her mind.

Sun was cracking out on the horizon, tangerine hues intertwined with tamed shades of red. Samantha took a longer route to the hospital to enjoy the scenery. Chestnuts strands tossed out of the helmet were gliding freely in the wind in an enduring antithesis with her thoughts.

‘You’re going to have to find a replacement for me.’

Unbeknownst to her, Samantha’s hand switched another gear.

‘I cannot make love to you and leave the next day like I am the worst scum to have ever walked this Earth. I am not that guy.’

The motorcycle revved once again.

‘You are irresistible, you know that?’

Samantha reached the hospital faster than she anticipated. She took off her helmet and shook her head to the sides, ruffling her long strands in the process. She locked the bike and put her helmet under her arm, a high-pitched whistle distracting her from her thoughts.

“Nice suit, cat-girl,” Jonathan smirked, locking his Yamaha super sport bike some paces away from Samantha. “We should ride out together next time.”

“I’ll think about it.” She stated simply, taking the lead towards the entrance of the hospital.

“That’s it? No smart reply, no anything? Wow, did I do anything to offend you?”

Samantha threw out a chuckle. “Not necessarily, just didn’t get that much sleep.”

Jonathan caught up with her, entering the hospital at the same time. “Oh? Mind me asking why?”

“Yes.”

“Touche. But I can take a wild guess.”

“Don’t take a wild guess.” Samantha offered a polite smile to the nurse’s station, grabbing the medical documents of a case.

“How’s Romeo doing? Wait, is that a—”

“Yes Jonathan, I’ll take a consult today.”

Jonathan put a hand over his mouth in a mocked attempt to hide his shock. “No fucking way, are you actually coming back?”

“Wait and see!” Samantha chirped, walking away to her office, the bounce in her hair leaving Jonathan with a smile imprinted on his face.

“And I told him he should have bought Rome! If he’d bought Rome, he would’ve won that trade on the airport with you, Jinyoung!”

A hearty laugh filled the room as Mark and Jinyoung entered Mark’s hotel room. The sun was well up in the blue of Jakarta sky, sending its shimmering beams across the universe. A sleepless night passed for the seven boys, fighting one another to the death to the Monopoly title. Their departure was set in a couple of hours to Kuala Lumpur that left them at liberty to let a night’s sleep go by.

“Bambam’s sweet tooth for money, what can I say.” Jinyoung threw his body on the bed, eyes glued to the ceiling to revisit his winning strategy. “Truth be told, he never had a chance to win.”

“You just led him on.” Mark chuckled and walked to the bathroom. “I am going to take a shower to wash off the defeat.”

“You bet.” Jinyoung rolled over on his chest, hand reaching out for the phone in his pocket. His movement on the bed caused Mark’s phone to light up. The water in the bathroom was not running yet.

“Hey, Mark,” Jinyoung shouted for the other. “You have a missed call.”

“Yeah?” Mark’s voice echoed. “Text Joey and let him know I’ll call back.”

There was a delay in Jinyoung’s response. “It wasn’t Joey. It’s Samantha.”

The next thing he heard was the faltering sound of the water running in the shower. Mark stepped under the rapid droplets, closing his eyes. It had been 11 days since they’d last spoken and she only left an unpicked call behind. It was not like Mark was expectant of something else entirely to happen, but he did not know how to feel. Happy that she had reached out? Bitter that she had not tried more?

Mark slapped his hands against the cold tiles to steady himself. As vehemently as he tried to distance himself from Samantha, something tugged him closer. Mark felt like he walked one step ahead, and two steps behind. He kept reciting to himself that it was not real, the feelings he rejected to feel. He couldn’t allow himself to miss her.

Still, I miss you.

The bathroom door opened, and Mark walked into the room with a towel ruffling his damp hair.

“So?” Jinyoung spoke, thumb scrolling lazily on his Instagram. “Are you going to call her back?”

“Probably,” reacted Mark, almost choking on his own spit. Would it be pitiful to acknowledge to the other that, in fact, he was not as nonchalant as he wanted to let on? “when we leave later for the airport.”

“Huh.” Snickered Jinyoung, jolting himself to his feet. “Here I thought I’d get to hear that conversation.” He pursed his lips, tapping at his chin with an index. “Maybe some sort of a clarification for why she had not reached out until now?”

Mark rolled his eyes with a small smile on his lips. It wavered when Jinyoung stopped in the doorframe. “But I guess fuck buddies don’t really get such clarifications, huh?”

Two and a something hours later, the boys were prepared to leave the hotel and embark for the next stop on their tour: New Delhi. The lobby of the hotel was swarming with staff, luggage, and security, preparing for the group’s very public departure. The journey to the airport was as chaotic as ever for the boys, in a joyful and brotherly atmosphere which always eased Mark’s mind and heart. He was always beyond thankful for the company and friendship of all the boys. Each held their own piece of Mark’s.

While waiting for the private transport from the gate to their plane, Mark stepped aside from the group to make the call he owed. It should have been around 4PM in Seoul. He took an anticipative breath in his lungs and tapped on Samantha’s phone number. There shouldn’t have been a singular reason why he felt so expectant.

‘You aren’t making love to me Mark. We are having sex, it is just sex.’

“Do you really think about us like that?” he whispered under his breath, a hand reaching up to cover his face better with the mask.

Mark did not receive his chance to hear the voice of the person whom he wished to hear the answer from because the call got interrupted to voicemail. “Fuck.” The breath in his lungs rushed out, leaving blooming traces of disappointment attached to his veins. All at once, the 10-hour flight became burdensome. Mark switched his phone to airplane mode to join the boys, a wee piece of his heart shattering from the expectations that failed to come alive.

In an empty common room, Samantha was flipping through her patient’s chart, examining and re-scanning what the laboratory results and the obvious common sense were reiterating. Because of an unforeseen and tragic natural complication, her patient would have to choose to lose her pregnancy to save her life.

“How do you tell someone this?” Samantha mumbled to herself, resting her face in the warmth of her palm. She flipped the chart and sighed, closing her eyes for a loose second. She had grown too soft in the big shoes of a surgeon. But it ultimately was what made her a better surgeon.

“Hey,” Leena stopped by, in a rush to reach somewhere else entirely. “Did something happen? I was in a hurry to prepare for surgery, but I couldn’t ignore you here all sappy by yourself.”

“Yeah. This patient I saw today… I have to tell her she has to give up the baby to save her life. This is why I sometimes am at peace with my decision to step back from being a surgeon.”

“And all the other times when you are not at peace?” Leena seated herself by Samantha.

“All the other times are when I miss going in the OR. Like last time I went in with Jonathan. It was the thrill crawling back, until it made my fingers tingle.” Another sigh. “Then I try to heal and come back, and I have to tell a mother to kill her child. Is this fair?”

“No, it’s not. It’s not. But you must remember how many lives you’ve saved and how many you can save, still. Young lives, who don’t even know they are about to live.”

Samantha tilted her head to look at Leena who had a softened look on her face. “Yeah.” She concluded as Leena rose from her seat.

“I gotta go now, Sam. Think about it. We miss having you around the OR. My girl power team lost all that power.” Leena gestured dramatically with her hands. “Maybe it’s a stretch but I think Mark would say the same to you, if he were here.”

“What?” Samantha exhaled. “Why are you thinking about Mark?”

Leena perked in the distance, as she was walking away “Because you won’t!”

And true she wasn’t. Samantha leaned back down in the chair, eyes obsessed with the ceiling of the office. It pained a little, both her ego and her wishes. Reason would say he couldn’t have picked up in the middle of the night, through the thousands of little things he had to attend to in the middle of a world tour, on top of probably the fatigue kicking in. Against reason, Samantha would tell herself anything to keep herself from hurting. Lies were always easier. Truth was always justifiable.

Truth was, Mark was everything she didn’t picture him to be.

Samantha gathered the scattered chart off the desk and mustered her courage to fill the big shoes of the surgeon she knew herself to be. Ever since Mark stumbled in the bar that night, to curl her hair through his fingers in a cheeky endeavor to rescue her from a vulgar stranger, with the smooth smile and the glimmer in his eye, Samantha’s life felt like it finally took a seat, on a vast green plain under the night sky. When pausing for oneself started to matter.

The rest of the day felt differently after Samantha decided to take charge. She went ahead and had the talk with the family whose happy hope vanished from their fingers. Then she offered to take lead of the surgery. The way she used to carry herself was slowly returning, with all the responsibility and the dignity. It was then she realized she did miss saving lives.

“So I guess it’s time to ask again about riding together? On the bikes, of course.” Jonathan laughed at his own joke, which brought a smile to Samantha’s own lips.

“You know what?” Samantha said, turning up the engine and securing herself atop of the seat. “I’m going to say pass for tonight, but let’s do it some time. It’s just been a full day today.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jonathan said, climbing in his seat and undoing his helmet. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

Samantha chuckled. “I know I don’t really take you at your word, most of the time. But I do appreciate you being in my life Jonathan.”

Jonathan threw his head away to veil his content expression. There were times like that one when Samantha wished she knew what was going on through his head. “Someone has to stick around, until prince charming rides back from his tour. Saw he got all naked and whatever up there. Not cool.”

“Mhm. Not cool for someone who asks prince charming how sex with me is.”

Jonathan almost dropped his helmet to the ground.

“Why would you ask him that?”

He raked his hair with his fingers, the previous content expression fading into a longing one. “Because it is part of why I made that bet with you when you were hopelessly drunk and so was I and I hoped we’d wake up and forget.”

It was almost puerile that they both remembered an inebriated bet to sleep with one another when they both had the desirous impulse of the body to do that on the spot. And, somehow, they did not go through with it.

“Jonathan—”

“You should have lied to me and told me you forgot. I would’ve made allowances for how your skin felt against my own. You didn’t even kiss me on the mouth you know?”

Jonathan kicked the jack of his motorcycle. “And trust me, I am actively working on giving up on you but it’s one hell of a job. So yes, that’s why I asked him how sex with you was, to get some closure. And Romeo proved to be almighty with it.” He threw one last look at the girl, and it caused Samantha’s breath to hitch in her throat. Under the alabaster streetlight, Jonathan looked so vulnerable. “Bear with me as I’m giving up on you.”

Keys rumbled against the glassy surface of the living room coffee table. The helmet bounced on the cushions of the sofa in a hasty attempt for Samantha to undress off her riding suit. Samantha plopped into the depth of the couch, skin getting goose bumps from the cold material. It was already the depth of the night when she finally managed to catch a stable breath. The roughness of the day found refuge in her nape, pressing unpleasantly in her muscles. Murphy came running towards her, jumping in an agile motion on the couch beside her. The contact of his fur against her skin eased the pressure in her body. Samantha twirled Murphy’s coat through her fingers, and the dog snuggled closer into her side. He perked up at her, always receptive of her mood.

With the other free hand, Samantha hastily searched for her mobile phone. The silence in her house echoed loudly, in sync with her accelerated thoughts. Jonathan’s confession ripped a band-aid which she did not believe she had. She felt guilty for the impulsive decisions she took a long time before, which still reflected into their present. Almost like a butterfly effect. Had she chosen Jonathan back then, would she have suffered the same heartbreak by his side? Would they have parted, or would they have thrived? Would she have avoided the public humiliation in the hospital?

Would she have met Mark?

The silvery radiance of the moon tiptoed into the living room through the crack of curtains, settling on the black screen of Samantha’s phone. It was repelled by the quick motion to turn the gadget on, an even quicker one to reach Mark’s phone number. A very late observation that he had called her back.

Would she have felt the same need to reach out to any other man, same as she did to Mark? A sliver of a breeze trembled through the thin material of the curtains, disturbing the lull of the house. In that natural equilibrium, the moonlight painted Samantha’s features in an artificial calm. Her heartbeat picked up in her chest.

Samantha drew her breath in sharply when the call connected.

“Mark? Hey, I know it must be late wherever you are, I wasn’t expecting you to pick up. How are you?”

She must have spoken fast, precipitated, in a much too evident surprise and much too little preparation for the feelings raging in her ribcage. All the stupid childish reasons of Mark being and keeping away took the reins.

“I’m sleeping, babe.”

Mark’s voice was low and coarse, at times breathy. Unbeknownst to him, Mark played with her heartstrings, with the ease with which he called her that affectionate name. He could not have meant that.

“Sure, no I’ll let you sleep, I’m sorry I disturbed you—”

“…don’t go. Missed your voice.”

Samantha took her phone away from her ear reflexively to double-check it was indeed Mark whom she was speaking to. On the other line, a faded puffing sound confirmed he was still there, as if he was adjusting his position.

“You there?”

“Yeah, I am, I just… you took me by surprise.”

“Mhm. You, too.”

A gust of wind played with the calescent air in Samantha’s living room. Through Mark’s groggy voice she couldn’t tell if he was upset, sad, or even remotely happy with her for contacting him.

“Just know I’m kinda drunk, so I might say shit.” Mark snickered, which caused Samantha to emit a giggle of her own. She had a palpable reason to blame Mark’s drunkenness for her heart’s quiver. “Drank our minds off with the boys. Middle of the evening.” Another snicker.

He was devastatingly alluring.

Samantha’s voice eased to Mark’s, a lonely index tracing the naked skin of her abdomen. The moon shifted, as if following the movements of the hand in a trance. “You’re too coherent to be drunk. Any special reason for the celebration?”

“Guess we felt like. Don’t know about them but I had a reason.”

Samantha took the bait. “Oh? How so?”

A sharp breath echoed on Mark’s side of the line, closely followed by another sharp exhale. “Promise you won’t get upset with me?”

Samantha’s eyebrows rose with curiosity, yet the heart in her ribcage threatened to stop beating. “I won’t.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.” But Mark stopped himself once again to prolong the anticipation Samantha prepared herself for. Maybe he would tear the scar open and confess he’d slept with others, that he went ahead and made good of their agreement, that he did not care. Or maybe that he was enough of a good guy to at least let her know he’d touched other women, that he’d heard other women scream his name in the intimacy of his sheets—

“I missed you.”

The sound of thunder reverberated in the infinity of the sky and a glim of lightning flashed in the darkness of the living room to put a halt to Samantha’s life. A strong current awoke goosebumps on Samantha’s skin, akin to Mark’s tender touch whenever he pulled her body to hide into his own.

Mark continued. “But I know you don’t miss me cause heck, you would’ve called a lot more than once, so cheers to me. You’ll say, ‘why are you an asshole cause you didn’t call either’, and you could be right.” A short pause. “I actually could be the asshole.”

What was Samantha supposed to say? How was she supposed to form coherent thoughts in her mind when Mark singlehandedly went and kicked away all rationality had to offer? In the tone of his voice, Samantha felt resentment. A resentment directed at himself for wishing he’d done better.

I should have done better, Mark.

“No, Mark, don’t say that about yourself. You could be anything but an asshole.”

I missed you too, Mark. And I didn’t want to.

“No, it’s fine. Absolutely fine. I’m just sex. You’re just sex. We’re just sex, nothing more, right?”

A sudden downpour started falling over the horizon, in a ghastly chase to envelop the night sky of Seoul. The sound of droplets played in a staccato rhythm, brushing against the tall glass windows of Samantha’s house. The restless curtains danced however the wind dictated, to cast shadows of the moon over her features, now rigid from the amalgam of emotions pirouetting through her being.

If she hadn’t met Mark, would she have wished to grant herself a second chance so easily?

Samantha rose lazily from the couch, leaving Murphy behind to meditate in his calmness. She carried herself to the windows, gripping the handle to open one of them, and ultimately seated herself on the windowpane. She extended one leg to feel the rain. “Do you hear that, Mark?” she spoke ultimately, tears gathering at her eyelids.

“Is that rain?” replied Mark, accompanied by a hissing sound. “It’s pouring in New Delhi, too.”

“It feels so cold on my skin.”

Another thunder trembled in the sky.

“I’m so jealous.”

“Jealous? Jealous on what?”

“All this rain is getting to touch you and I’m not.”

Samantha brought one knee to her chest to lean her cheek against it. If it was raining in New Delhi, it meant that maybe, just maybe, her and Mark could both look at the same sky.

It took a considerable amount of effort for Mark to push himself straight outside of bed. He couldn’t remember at what time the boys got back to the hotel, at what time he fell asleep, and he couldn’t remember why he recognized Samantha’s voice without even knowing it was her who called. With each reply exchanged between them, Mark was driving back to reality, a reality where both him and Samantha were looking at the same sky.

He walked over to the window of his hotel room, peeling it open to fully pick up the song of the rain. There was a tiny table adjacent to the window where he prompted his body, head leaning against the pane, and the free arm toying with the beads rushing down from the sky.

A reality where he was catching feelings for a woman who did not feel the same.

“It feels so cold on my skin too, beautiful.”

Maybe it was because of the same sky they both were watching but it felt like Samantha was smiling. “Why would you be jealous?”

“I should be, shouldn’t I? When something other than me is touching my fuck buddy.”

There was a pause on the other line. Rain was feeling tougher against Mark’s forearm.

“No one has touched me since you left, Mark. Don’t think anyone will.”

It was too good to be true. He did not believe her, could not believe her. Mark retreated his arm and raked his fingers through his hair. The coldness of summer rain made him flinch.

Mark was playing a game he knew he’d already lost.

“Do you think about us? Do you think about me, how I’m touching you?”

“Yeah, I do. I did today.”

Mark’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their kiss in the club’s locker room.

“Do you like the way I’m touching you?”

Mark’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

Samantha’s mind replayed their hug in the club’s locker room.

“I do.”

“I guess you still want me to fuck you, then.”

Samantha’s lack of response gave Mark the opportunity to glue his eyes to an outward building which still kept its presence through the water veil. The buzz of the alcohol was still messing with his head, and with his emotions. He shouldn’t had gotten so attached to a game plan, he should had cared enough back in the club when Samantha stated she was not interested. There was just something about her that kept reeling him in, which only amplified with each touch they shared, doubled with each kiss, tripled with each moan she’d mewl, calling out his name.

At the end of the day, the heart wants what it wants. And the heart shuddered at the thought of her moaning any other name than his.

“Hey Sam, I gotta go. I’m supposed to be waking up in 3 hours to rehearse the setting for the concert.”

This time, it was Sam. Not ‘babe’, not ‘beautiful’, just ‘Sam’. Bleak, obscure, a name. Samantha feared a simple name that carried no meaning. It was supposed to carry a meaning.

“Are you frustrated with me, Mark?” she breathed out, the tears rolling down her cheeks at the thought.

“What? No, I’m not. I’m not. Promise.”

“How long will you be gone, still? I hope it’s not that long because I’m naked and I am sitting on the windowpane, hoping that this rain will make me recall how your hands felt against my skin, and it’s not you and I cannot recall how your hands felt against my skin, Mark.”

Clouds wrecked into one another to release a rambunctious roar.

Mark sighed, and it almost broke Samantha’s heart. Then he laughed, and suddenly, the world came alive.

“Okay, let me guide you to remember, hmm?”

“Guide me.”

“If you lay your hand to the side of your neck, cupping it, but not too tight, and a bit far back, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to hold when we hug.”

In thorough obedience, Samantha did just as Mark instructed her to. She closed her eyes, picturing Mark’s silhouette right by her side.

“Now, if you lower your hand to your side, not too low on the hip, and drum your fingers against the flesh, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to tickle you.”

The action made Samantha giggle loudly, almost the same as Mark used to. “I am ticklish there, yeah.”

Mark laughed, and Samantha couldn’t see, but he laughed heartily. “Yeah, I know. Now, if you go further and caress a trail from your lower belly all the way to your clit, you’ll remember it is my favorite spot to make you pant. Right before I slide a finger inside you.”

Samantha followed Mark’s voice until her middle finger caressed over her womanhood, a loud whine erupted from the back of her throat. “Oh no, no, don’t even think about doing it. The last part is left for me to do.”

She unexpectedly stopped, Mark’s charm still working strongly. “How did you know I wanted to do that?”

“I know what your body is telling me, angel. It’s just you I need to know more about. I’ll be back in a week and a half, can you hold out for me this long? I can always talk you through it if you think you can’t.”

Samantha scoffed jokingly, draping her hand around herself instead. A week and a half felt to her like an eternity. When Mark had her wrapped around his finger like a marionette, when he knew when to go back to calling her endearingly, when he so easily confessed it was hard on him, as much as it became hard on her, the time stopped dilating as fast. Another bolt of lightning pierced the night sky, casting a porcelain light over her body.

“When you come back to me, Mark, I’ll tell you about the more you want to know.”

Next

[fandomnovella-blog]

The Teacher's Pet: Kim Yugyeom

You were so stressed out this week you didn't know which way was left and which way was right. You were exhausted and your appearance was starting to mirror how you felt. You had gotten pale, and your hair was starting to get a little crazy. Your assignments were keeping you so busy you fell asleep on your math textbook and woke up with the page stuck to your face! But finally, you felt like you were on top of everything. Every assignment had been handed in and every piece of scrap paper put in its proper place so with puffy eyes and your clothes hanging off you, you entered your History class. By the looks of the other students, they seemed to be just as tired dishevelled and sleep deprived as you. It made you feel less alone. You were just nodding off when the door opened and in walked Kim Yugyeom.

A hush fell over the class. He stuck out like a sore thumb! The whole class looked a mess! Exam stress had ravaged you guys to next to nothing and here Yugyeom was, not a hair out of place! His clothes neatly fit his body and with a face that almost glowed with energy and brightness! It was like Exam week had taken all your energy and zapped him with it!

He was carrying what you supposed was Mr P's laptop and mug which was full of steaming hot cofee and he neatly placed it on the desk waiting for it's owner to arrive. The smell wafted to your nostrils and gave you a little more life. You then watched groggily as Yugyeom placed a card and box of chocolates on the desk and sat down waiting for Mr P to arrive!

Sure enough the formidable teacher strode into the classroom, greeted Yugyeom cordially and sat down at his desk, "Thank you Yugyeom for helping me bring my supplies to class! Oh, and what's this?” He gestured towards the Chocolates and card! “You're spoiling me!"

You saw from the corner of your eye that Yugyeom beamed, blushed a little and sat up a little straighter. Mr P then scanned the class "you all look a wreck! How are you supposed to learn anything! Prepare to hand in your reports today. I'm not extending the deadline so do not bother asking!"

You groaned internally. Typical Yugyeom behaviour! Always giving gifts to teachers to say "thank you for being awesome and helping us to grow into the amazing people we'll become" you snorted.

The only thing Mr P gave you was stress, a headache and more homework than you could handle! At least the report he had asked you to do had been finished. You looked in your bag for the folder containing your essay and your heart dropped. You didn't have it with you! It must have gotten mixed up while you were at home! Today was the last deadline and if you failed to hand it in you'd lose a whole semester grade!

You felt like you were in a living nightmare!

Maybe if you pinched yourself then you would wake up with your math textbook stuck to your face again! But no. This was reality. This was happening right now and your whole life flashed past you eyes! You moved your hand more frantically in your bag uselessly praying  that your assignment would be there. But you were met with air passing through your fingertips whenever you swiped through your bag! You couldn't lie, and Mr P would NEVER accept an excuse. There was nothing else to do but bite the bullet. Slowly you raised a trembling hand. Mr P's head looked up from his laptop.

"Yes Yugyeom what's the matter" he said beaming. Your heart was beating fast...did he say Yugyeom? Did he just confuse you with his favourite student?

"Sir I think you have us confused with the other class. Our assignments aren't due in until next week."

Mr P looked at Yugyeom "Are you sure? I have it clearly marked here" he said looking at his diary.

"Sir, I wouldn't lie, I specifically remember you saying that it would be due in next week."

You looked at him eyes wide with disbelief.

Kim Yugyeom THE KIM YUGYEOM lying?! To the teacher?! Now you definitely were dreaming! For a minute Mr P looked down again at his diary. You felt sure he wasn't going to believe it.

But then he lifted his head and said "Very well. I'lI make the deadline next week. It could be that with all the essays due in I've written the wrong date down. It doesn't take much! Exam season doesn’t just affect the students you know!" He chuckled. You let out a breath you didn't know you'd been holding. And you weren't alone. It seemed whole class sighed with relief with you. When the bell rang for break you walked quickly out of the classroom.

You couldn't believe you’d escaped detention and an F-grade in history!

"You're welcome!” someone said as they passed you “Next time if you need me to cover you just ask." You looked up and saw Yugyeom's shiny backpack.

"Huh," you said to yourself. Yugyeom clearly wasn’t as squeaky clean and pure as the teachers thought!

[jasonbourneitsjacksonwang]

my favorite cultural phenomenon ever might be that we all collectively decided to make jackson wang the party host in every fanfic for no specific reason, to the point where there are PAGES of results for the tag on ao3

388$ to have ur certified y/n moment like ur in some fanfic 😭😭 at a jackson wang hosted party 😭

[pars-ley]

Title: Come Alive (part two) Pairing: Jackson Wang x f reader Summary: Having not heard from Jackson since he pretended to be your boyfriend to ward off unwanted attention, you try to push him out of your mind, that is until you run into him when you least expect it. Genre: Fake dating au / strangers to lovers au / heartbreak / angst / fluff / smut Rating: 15 (Nsfw-smut in future chapters) Warnings: some brief mild "friendly" threatening behaviour / foul language W/C: 2.2k Banner: @nixiecreates creating pure perfection. Beta: @seokgyuu thank you so much for you kind and encouraging words Tag list: @foofarny @kzokssb @galadrielthepsycho @sumzysworld @vminjackbaddie Notes: just a short chapter as I'm easing into the story that will unfold. I'm so excited. Please like, comment, reblog as it really helps!

"Can I get a medium latte and a slice of the lemon sponge, please?” You ask the barista, at the coffee shop around the corner from your apartment.

“Uh, sure, to have in or takeaway?” He responds with a bright smile, seeming slightly over the top.

“Have in, please.” 

He nods enthusiastically, “coming right up, tap when you're ready.” He points to the contactless card machine and rushes off to make your drink. “Swap with me.” He whispers to the other worker at the coffee machine, practically shoving him out of the way. Frowning, bewildered by his behaviour you shrug it off and make your payment before heading to the other end of the counter to wait for your order.

Taking a quick glance at the seating, you are pleased to see there are a few tables you can choose from, much to your relief. You need to get some work done and with your upstairs neighbours having renovations in their apartment, the noise there is almost impossible. So you came to your sanctuary, your favourite coffee shop with not only the best coffee, but most importantly, the best cakes. 

“Here you are.” The barista says with that same wide, slightly manic looking grin, as he hands you the tray. “Call me, anytime.” He whispers, but still loud enough for the people in the queue to hear, resulting in their quiet sniggers. You glance down at your order and see the scrawl of some numbers on your napkin and your face heats, only made worse by the fact you can feel so many eyes on you. Smiling awkwardly, you blurt out, “Sorry, I have a boyfriend,” before taking the tray and making a quick escape to your table by the window. 

Once seated you spin the cup to take a proper look at it.

The name ‘Lyle’ stares at you in bold, messy italics. Groaning to yourself, you turn the cup back back around and set your bag on the seat next to you, pulling out your laptop and hoping that the eyes you could still feel on you were only your imagination. 

You most definitely did not want to call him. Especially since you still haven't forgotten about Jackson. It has been a month since you met him at the club and you've had no text or call from him whatsoever and yet, he has crossed your mind more regularly than you would care to admit.

You shrug the thought away as you load up your work and dig into your cake, relishing the sharp lemon flavour of the sponge combined perfectly with the sweetness of the drizzled icing on top.

“Does this boyfriend have a name?” a voice beside your table startles you, your fork freezing in mid air while your mind races to come up with an answer for the persistent barista.

Glancing up at him, determined to continue your lie, you start, “l-” but stop when you see a familiar face smiling down at you. “Jackson?” you drop your fork and stand up to greet him. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and kisses you lightly on the cheek, lingering a little too long for just a casual greeting. “It’s great to see you, y/n.”

You can’t help smiling up at him, your bodies almost pressed against each other and radiating intense heat between the tiny gap. 

“y/n?” Another voice sounds and a smiling face appears from behind him.

“Do I know you?” you wonder.

“No, no, sorry, I’m Mark, Jackson’s friend, but boy, have I heard a lot about you.” he grins.

Arching a brow you peer up at Jackson and note the faint flush of pink dusting across his cheeks and have to fight the amusement that tugs at your mouth. “Good things, I hope?”

“Oh, yes, very,” is all Mark responds, snapping his mouth shut when Jackson throws him a deathly glare. Biting your lip in an attempt to keep your excitement and amusement at bay and watch as Jackson turns your coffee cup towards him, looking at the numbers written there, “so, is this boyfriend real or did you need a fake one again?” 

The smirk that plays on his lips has your heart pounding against your ribcage, creating a tune just to serenade him with.

“I guess I could have really used your assistance again.” 

He laughs and then his eyes fall serious, seeming unsure of what he wanted to say.

“So still no boyfriend, huh?” Mark interrupts the silence, as he stares very obviously at Jackson.

You shrug, “nope, I seem to have this problem…” tapping your chin thoughtfully, “where guys don't call me.” 

Jackson groans and dips his head into his hands, “I know, I know, I was going to call, but then…” he hesitates, searching for the right words.

“He was being a little bitch about his ex,” Mark interrupts, “but, he's over that now, aren't you?” he scolds and you have to fight the urge to laugh.

“Yes, definitely.” Jackson responds staring intently at you, eyes burning through you and starting a surprisingly intense heat inside you. “I'm sorry, I should have at least sent a text.”

“Hey, if you're not ready, you're not ready, can't help meeting at shitty timing.” you smile graciously, trying to hide your disappointment and hoping you're succeeding.

“I'm ready, now,” he insists, stepping closer to you. “If I haven't blown my chance?”

Your heart hammers so loud in your chest, you can barely hear his words, but the resounding scream inside your head tells you what you've decided. “Why don't you message me and find out?”

He beams at you and nods, “yes, for sure.”

Your cheeks warm slightly and you have to break eye contact, if you want your brain to ever work normally again. Getting lost in his eyes is dangerously easy.

“Miss, are these guys bothering you?” A voice sounds next to you and your eyes drift slowly over following the sound. Who should it be? None other than Lyle, the barista. Thinking he's being a knight in shining armour, when in reality he's disturbing a moment you have hoped for since the night you met Jackson.

You bite your lip, as the awkwardness only continues to grow as you watch Lyle sneer at the two of them, it would almost be laughable if you weren't so disappointed by the interruption. 

Jackson glances slyly at you, a devilish smirk playing across his mouth and as if you can read his mind, you give him a sly wink.

Jackson steps towards him, glancing at the barista's badge, “Lyle, is it?”

He nods in response, suddenly seeming unsure of himself for butting in.

“I really appreciate the concern for my girlfriend, thank you for checking in on her and her well-being,” Jackson's hand lands on Lyle's shoulder, meant as a friendly gesture but you can tell it's also a warning by the firm grips he holds. He picks up your coffee cup and turns it towards Lyle, “and as you can gather, she won't be calling you. No hard feelings, right?”

Lyle shakes his head quickly, cheeks slightly pink and spins on his heels, making his way back behind the counter.

“Thank you.” You fight back a laugh. “you come to my rescue once again.” 

“Always happy to be your fake boyfriend.” he beams at you.

“Or,” Mark chimes in again, “you could just date each other, then you could be her real boyfriend.” He mimes bashing your head's together which would have made you laugh ordinarily but you're hyper focused on Jackson's reaction to that.

He fixes Mark with a hard stare before turning back to you. “I'm sorry, I'm really out of practice with dating.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I'll call you later today and we can arrange a date? I mean, if you'd like to, that is? I don't mean to assume.” His face flushes pink and you can't help but bite your lip from the sight.

“I would love to, but,” you pause just to torture him a little more, “why don't you give me your number this time, in case you chicken out again.”

He gives you a bashful grin before pulling out his phone, typing away and then returning it to his pocket. “Done.”

You feel your cell vibrate in the back pocket of your jeans. “Ok, then.”

Both smiling at eachother like idiots, you're interrupted by Mark once again, “ok, lovebirds, we better get going so we're not late for the game.”

“Game?” You wonder.

“Basketball, a group of us play every week.” Jackson glances down at his watch. “Shit, you're right.” He takes a step towards you, “sorry, I've got to go but I promise I'll call you tonight.”

You nod, excitement blooming like roses in your stomach but a small whisper in the back of your mind does not want to get your hopes up again.

His fingers gently clasp your hand, and pull it up to his mouth, he presses his lips to the back of your knuckles, an action that almost has you swooning but you manage to stay upright.

“Really great to meet you!” Mark calls, as he heads towards the exit, drawing people's eyes in your direction.

Jackson backs away without another word, glancing back at you until he's out the door and out of sight.

You sit down, feeling dazed, your hand feels cold where his lips touched your skin, burning them with the memory of the tender kiss. Opening up your laptop and attempting to focus on today's tasks proves difficult when all you can think about is the hopeful impending conversation you would have with him later.

Pulling out your phone, remembering that he'd messaged you, so you could save his number and you see the text. Your mouth stretches in Cheshire grin before you can stop it seeing his message:

Unknown: can't wait to speak later

Just that simple sentence had you giddy and feeling like a love sick idiot. You also couldn't wait till later. 

*

Signing out at 5pm on the dot, you pack away your work things now you are back home. The renovations were still ongoing, the noise reverberating through your apartment like wildfire, making plans in your head to go out for dinner, until your phone rings, halting all other thoughts.

You see Jackson's name on your screen, scrambling to answer it and taking a deep breath to quell the excitement before you speak.

“Well, this is a nice surprise.” you start, sounding a lot cooler than you feel.

His deep laughter vibrates your ear, sending delicious shivers down your spine. “There's no chickens here today, ma’am.”

You can't help but laugh at his reference to your earlier comment. “I can see that. Nice to hear from you. How was the game?”

Settling on your sofa, pulling you legs up to get cosy, you listen in. 

“Yea, good, my team won, of course.” 

How can his voice sound even more devastating over the phone? Every word drips with velvet.

“There's nothing wrong with your ego, is there?” you tease.

“Not when it comes to things I know I'm good at.”

“And I bet you're good at many things.” the words leave your mouth before you can stop them, hanging in the air thick and heavy, until he speaks.

“I guess you'll just have to stick around and find out.”

You hold in the squeal that's bursting to escape, as more loud bangs and drilling sound around you.

“What on earth is that sound?” He asks.

Letting out a frustrated sigh you explain about your neighbours and your plans to stay out this evening, hoping when you return the noise would have dissipated somewhat.

“If you're free tonight, why don't we have dinner?” He asks, sounding nervous for the first time today.

Biting your lip and grinning you nod frantically, “oh sorry,” you laugh, realising he can't see you, “I was nodding. I would love that.”

“Ok, great, I'll pick you up in half an hour?”

“Perfect.” Holy fuck, you need to get ready fast.

You text him your address and raid your wardrobe, opting for a black dress with flat shoes, something simple but classic so you would fit whatever type of restaurant you go to. Your hair is beyond saving, so you pull it up in a rough bun, which for once turns out great. You neaten the very minimal makeup you have on when your doorbell goes. Your heart hammers wildly in your chest, galloping like a horse that carries you to your front door. Pulling it open, your mind goes blank seeing him standing there all in black. A fitted black t-shirt, with black trousers and shoes, he looked devastating in such a simple ensemble.

“You look…” swallowing and trying to appear calm, “amazing.”

His answering smile almost floors you. “I was thinking the same thing, you look beautiful. And we match.”

Looking down at your outfit you can't help but laugh at the coincidence. 

“Are you ready to go?” He asks.

Nodding, you grab your bag and keys and lock up. His fingers entwine through yours and he searches your eyes for permission, smiling as you give his hand a reassuring squeeze. It feels nice, the simple action of your hands clasped together, natural and comfortable. Your usual first date nerves have evaporated, maybe it's because you've spent time with him already, maybe it's because you know what it's like to kiss him, or maybe he's just a good match for you. Only time will tell.

[mykoreanlove]

Conversations with love

“Jackson buddy, you okay?”

Jackson missed the same beat for the third time in a row, dance rehearsal was kicking his ass today. He was not okay, but he did not want to show it. He clutched his hands over his head and apologized to his dancers, offering to redo the choreography once more. He tried his best to concentrate for the rest of practice, but his mind was too clouded with thoughts of you.

He sunk down in his chair overlooking the nocturnal skyline out of his fancy hotel room. He dreaded being alone in hotel rooms, his mind always taking him to the darkest places when he was alone and afraid. Over time he learned to ask for help in those moments, but he still felt weak doing so. Jackson fumbled with his phone until he decided to neglect his pride and ask for help once more. The phone rang – once, twice, thrice. He was about to hang up when he heard the breathless voice at the other end: “Hello? Jackson? Sorry buddy, I almost missed your call. Memorizing scripts is a special kind of pain.”

Jackson chuckled while noticing how much he had missed his friend. Even though he was always surrounded by folks and their comforting ears, he only trusted a handful of people. His profession made opening up incredibly difficult, any vulnerability could be used against him at any moment. That’s why he was beyond grateful for his friend. Him being in the same industry made things a lot easier but it was his sincerity that touched Jackson’s heart the most. Whereas many people kissed his ass in order to be favored, his friend always kept it real with him – even if that hurt Jackson at times.

“Jinyoung, thank you for picking up your phone. I’m sure those drama preparations are brutal?” The man on the other end of the line instantly noticed that Jackson had to be in trouble. Not beating around the bush, he confronted him right away. “What’s going on?”

Jackson took a deep breath. “Do you remember Y/N?”

Of course, he did. Jinyoung was very attentive to the people he cared about. However, he was not toying with Jackson’s nerves right now. He knew that Jackson had bad luck in love, always encountering another woman that broke his heart.

“I think we are about to break up. Or rather, she’s about to dump me.”

“What makes you think that?” Jackson explained the situation calmly without spilling too much details, but it was evident that he was suffering from abandonment issues, fearing the worst before anything had even happened.

“Jinyoung, do you believe I’m cursed? Like, love hates me or something? If I could I would ask love directly. I-”, he looked up at the ceiling of his room and screamed, “hey love, do you hate me? Why do you make me suffer so much?”

 It took Jinyoung a minute to think about his answer – the desire to console Jackson as well as being sincere with him was not an easy feat.

“Jackson, do you believe in the devil?” He was taken aback by that question. “The devil? I don’t know, I mean I do believe in God. I guess I kinda believe in the devil, too? Why are you asking me about the devil?”

“People always think that the devil is some guy with thorns, dressed in red, lingering in hell waiting for them. And that’s the biggest pile of crap if you ask me. Do you want to know where the real devil lives? Within them. Within me and within you. And you wanna know what the real devil is? It’s your fear.” Jackson remained silent. He had no idea where his friend was going with this, but he decided to listen and think, because he had the utmost trust in Jinyoung’s wisdom.

“Let’s pretend I am love for a minute. I’m here and you’re asking me why you suffer so much when it comes to relationships, right? You know what I would say? It’s because you choose to.” Jackson felt his heart beating faster, feeling panicky at this revelation. He stuttered a silent reply: “Because I choose to?”

“Think about it. Think in terms of love and fear – if only those two sides existed, whose side are you on more often?” Jackson’s ego started to interfere – of course he was on love’s side! How dare he even ask? With an agitated voice he answered: “Of course, I am on love’s side. I want love, I love love! But love chooses to not choose me!” Jinyoung knew he had struck a nerve with this accusation. He hoped that his friend remained open enough to listen to him, to consider the depth his words held for him.

“Jackson, I love you. And that’s why I’m being honest with you. You are not on the side of love. I hate to break it to you, but you’re married to the devil in your head.”

Jackson got up and sprinted to the mini bar – he was in desperate need of a drink. The line was silent while he poured the burning liquid, hoping that it would ease his mind. “Listen, I don’t want to get defensive but that’s kind of a lot to ask of me right now. Can you… can you explain what you mean by that?”

Jinyoung let out the breath he did not know he had held in. Relieved he continued: “What happens when you meet someone? It’s all great for some time but then you get into your head, feeding your worst fears, don’t you? What if she leaves me? What if she breaks my heart? What if she’s a cheater? What if I’m not enough? What if this, what if that – isn’t that how it always goes? You feel like love has left you but in fact you left love first. You danced with the devil, seduced by its sneaky remarks, you gave into that. And then you over-fixate on those girls. Just look at Y/N, right now. She texts you less? She is not as attentive as she was in the beginning? Love would tell you to love her anyway and be patient – maybe she’s going through some stuff and isn’t comfortable with sharing just yet? Or she’s busy and needs some time for herself? Fear however would convince you that she must be fucking someone else. Fear would tell you that she only used you because of your fame. Fear would tell you that no woman could ever love you for you. Isn’t that right?”

Jackson started crying but didn’t notice, he was too much engulfed in Jinyoung’s revelations about him. Up until today he believed that he was a lover, someone that craved love and loved freely in return but now he understood that he was far from that. He once read a quote in one of the countless books Jinyoung had sent him over the years that went like this: Only the loving find love.

Was it loving to always assume the worst? Was it loving to only love others when they behaved the way he wanted them to? Was it loving to them? Or to him? Or to love itself? He felt nauseous, he was disgusted with himself. Jinyoung was right, he was married to the devil.

“Can I ask for a divorce?”

Jinyoung laughed whole-heartedly while covering his mouth with his hand – old habits die hard. “I think love would really like that. She’s been waiting for your comeback for a while now.”

Jackson smiled warmly even though his heart felt heavy. “Jinyoung, where do I start?”

“You start by loving yourself first. Do you know why the devil always gets you with those sneaky remarks? Because they’re yours. He takes your fears and uses them against you. And what is fear? It’s just a story. Just a story that you very strongly believe in.”

“Doesn’t feel like a story to me though”, Jackson scoffed while pouring another drink. “Yeah, I know. To you, it feels very real because it’s what you’ve known your whole life. Remember what I said about choosing? Now you choose better, now you choose love, now you choose you. And it’s gonna take some time and be a lot of work but I know you, you are a diligent worker and will master this. You’re Jackson Wang, remember?”

Jackson smiled silently, watching the moon and the stars illuminating the night for him. He looked up at the ceiling again, imagining that love was looking down at him, nodding her head and confirming everything Jinyoung had just said. “Loving myself”, he murmured under his breath. “I think I’m gonna need a follow up on this. Can I… can I call you again and we talk it out more?”

Now it was Jinyoung who was smiling warmly: “Yes Jackson, we can. I’ll send you some books, too. Read them and we’ll talk once you’re done.” Jackson thanked his friend again and hung up, feeling strangely calm. He knew he had work to do, he knew he had to change his devilish ways and for once he was not afraid of love leaving him again. For once, he found it within himself. 

[soultiesblog]

⠀ ⌕⠀› pra ver se cola

ⓘ informações adicionais↷

⠀· jackson wang (got7) + lisa (blackpink)

⠀· sugestão por @mestradovento

⠀· você encontrará possivelmente os materiais aqui

⠀· em caso de inspiração, dê os devidos créditos ♡

[kpop-in-new-albion]

This is how you do it. I’m not even kidding. This was perfect. That twist really got me, you have no idea. All the details really work with the ending, especially because you don’t see it until you read through it again. Honestly, this was a pure masterpiece. Thank you, thank you, thank you so very much for writing this! It was pure perfection!

Run to you~ Jackson Wang Mafia Drabble

❖ Got7, Jackson Wang x gender neutral reader

❖ Drabble, mafia au/angst/fluff

❖ Warnings: Angst?, mentions of blood, murder, and guns

❖ wc:672

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Hope you enjoy!

. ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ ⋅˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Jackson’s heart pounded in his chest. Callused palms soft from dedicated moisturizing, were now cold and sweaty. Beads of ice-cold sweat dripping down his back as he watched them lead you out. Never in his life could he recall feeling so anxious, in all his years as a mafia boss. Jackson had survived tortures, bullet wounds, he’d been stabbed and beaten. Hell, he had watched the life drain from men’s eyes, their blood staining his hands as they cursed him with their last breath.

Keep reading

[elfdastiel91]

Guess I should introduce myself :)

Hello I'm Dastiel! I've been a K-Pop fan since 2012. First group I got into was SHINee. Then slowly it became my whole world, I am Korean-American, my mother was born and raised for 6 years in Korea before moving to the US.

I am a multistan, but Super Junior is where my heart lies. They are my ultimate bias group, Leeteuk being my ultimate bias. He is the best freaking leader not only Super Junior could ask for but K-Pop as a whole could ask for. This man has given so much to this industry. And has gone through so much heartbreak and pain and yet still he perseveres. As you can tell I am completely devoted to him so I will not tolerate any hate.

Some of the other groups I am a fan of...(there's a lot ;)) and my bias or biases if i have more than one

SHINee (Minho and Taemin)

Big Bang (Taeyang)

Block B (Taeil)

iKon (Jay and June)

GOT7 (AmeriThaiKong, Mark Tuan, BamBam, and Jackson Wang)

BTS (Kim SeokJin)

EXO (Sehun and Suho)

NCT (mainly 127) (Johnny and Jaehyun)

Seventeen (still trying to get the members correct lol don't know why it is taking me so long!) (Vernon)

Ateez (Jongho)

Twice (Momo)

AESPA (Winter)

Red Velvet (all of them honestly)

BlackPink (Rose)

Stray Kids (Felix)

Wanna One (Daniel)

Monsta X (Hyungwon and I.M)

Pentagon (Jinho, Hui, and Wooseok)

I think that is all for right now, I have a whole list of K-Pop artists I need to get into.

I have been writing K-Pop fanfictions since about summer of 2018. I write mostly dark fanfics but occasionally smut as well. If you want to follow me and read any of my fics here's a link but please be mindful of the tags!

[shinsukenaka80]

[yyparkq]

THIGH RIDE

characters: jackson wang x reader

warnings: pure smut!; (not so) dry humping

It’s only less than a month before the wedding of Jackson’s sister. It wouldn’t have matter more if it was a simple church or garden wedding but knowing your fiance’s family, such occasion should be grand. They opted on doing a beach wedding somewhere in Palau so of course, you got to get your body ready for it.

The moment you noticed the pink marked week on your phone calendar, you immediately stood up and weighed yourself in front of the mirror, slightly knocking Jackson off as he got out of the shower. You scrunched up your shirt and checked out your belly. Your period has just ended and you’ve been sneaking out eat junk foods behind Jackson’s back. He’d nonstop nag at you the moment he learned you were eating hotdog sandwich with pop corn and soda while he was away for the whole three days. You can’t beat the cravings and you claim defeat against them this time. 

Jackson looks at you in confusion. You have your ass bare in front of him as you check out yourself at the mirror, your thong being buried in between the depths of your butt cheeks. 

You glance at Jackson before heading to the bathroom. “I’m hitting the gym. You coming?” 

“Sure, babe.” he answers and follows your body with his gaze. You wink at him and sends him a cute flying kiss in which he laughs at. 

You work hard on your sets at the gym. Both you and Jackson in separate spaces working out, even so, he still glances at your direction every now and then. It’s like you got an invisible pull at him whenever you are in the same enclosed space as him. 

Jackson gets up and walks to you to hand you a water bottle. You cannot help but notice how unbelievably tight his training shorts were today. Did he grow more muscles on his thighs? Or is he wearing an old training shorts? God, you wished it was the former. It would be amazing to ride on those thighs tonight. 

You snatched the water from Jackson and whispered to his ear, “Want to do our own exercise upstairs? I think I want you to fuck me with your thighs, Wang Ji Er.” you slightly ghosted a touch above his length. 

The thoughts of feeling his taut thighs almost made you drool so you quickly whisked out of the gym with your boyfriend on your heels. Jackson follows suit and places a hand around your waist as you wait for the elevator to come. He could feel the tension you have been hiding. He knows as much as the look that you gave him earlier when he gave you a drink. The thought of making you want him in the public like that makes his member twitch in his already tight shorts. Damn, he’s glad he wore the trainers his brother-in-law got him. 

There were three people in the elevator when it opened and Jackson almost whimpered at the prolonged agony evident in his shorts. You pressed the floor number of your unit. Looking at the lit numbers, you realize your floor number comes last, meaning there will be three stops before you even reach your place. 

You decided to amp up the teasing by pressing your butt cheeks in between Jackson’s length while pretending to be busy with your phone. Jackson automatically hissed at the interaction, wrapping his arms around you and placing his forehead on your shoulders. You paid no attention to him. 

The moment you opened the door of the apartment, you let your bodies free of any article of clothing. “Fucking tight shorts. Were you seducing me, Mr. Wang?” you almost growled at his lips while grinding your core on his right thigh. You kept his shorts on, only rolling the hem up his thigh a bit more. “Keep them on. I want to spread my cum all over this filthy shorts of yours.” Jackson loves this side of you, as much as he does to every other, the dominant and wild one. He flexed his muscles and you moaned his name loudly.

“Jacksonnn~~fuck!” these two words seem to be the only words in your vocabulary at that moment. He kneads one of your breasts and takes the other in his mouth, sucking and flicking you sensitive bud with his tongue. You kept on chanting his name alongside your moans. 

Jackson cannot seem to breathe. You’re restraining his length inside his compressed shorts while he’s fully aware of your wetness and your knees trudging up his covered cock. “Touch me.” Jackson murmurs almost pleading to be touched. He brings one of your hands from his shoulders to his shaft. 

You massage his shaft though the moist material, all the while biting your lip and locking eye contact. Jackson reaches up and kisses you deeply, pulling you more into him and guiding your hips as you fasten your pace and massaging your clit to reach your climax. 

You feel yourself shudder as Jackson flexes his thigh much harder, sending you to your release. You pumped his shaft harder until his seed came out. He flipped you on the sofa and brought his face to your core. “I’m not yet done with you.”