──✶ inspired by @matchastwb and her drabble WHEN THE PARTY IS OVER
──✶ party boy!jackson wang x mid-life crisis ── after too many parties and watching everyone falling in love but him, jackson wang is officially in his mid-life crisis era.
──✶ word count: 1.2k
──✶ genre/warning: crackfic, light angst if you squint, celebrity au, therapy jokes, mid-life crisis, self-deprecating humour, delusional jackson wang agenda, mentions of your favs stealing everyone’s attention, dramatic behaviour
──✶ a/n: this is literally for the shits and giggles, if y'all ask for a taglist i will force @matchastwb to make this into a series with me (lowkey already is). enjoy! much love <3333
Jackson Wang is in therapy again.
Third week in a row. Same office, same chair, same tragically beige carpet that has seen more emotional breakdowns than his Instagram DMs.
Not because of the partying, or the sleep schedule, or the existential dread that hits at 3am and whispers, “hey king, what if this is all meaningless?”.
But because every man he meets is in a relationship except him.
His therapist doesn’t even look up anymore. She just clicks her pen, like she’s starting a timer on how long it’ll take him to get dramatic.
“What happened this time, Jackson?” she asks, flipping to a fresh page in her notebook.
“Everyone is in love except me,” Jackson declares, collapsing into the couch like a Greek tragedy in designer sweatpants.
He sprawls out so aggressively the cushion wheezes. One arm draped over his eyes, he looks like the world’s most dramatic K-drama second lead who never gets the girl but always gets the soundtrack.
“I tried getting a girl’s number last night,” he groans.
The therapist underlines something. “And?”
He peeks at her from between his fingers. “And she asked if I could introduce her to Jungkook.”
Silence. The kind of silence that deserves its own Oscar.
His therapist hums sympathetically, which is therapist code for “again?”
Jackson isn’t done suffering.
“The week before that?” He sits up just to gesture more dramatically. “A girl asked for Taehyung.”
He throws his hands up, incredulous. “She didn’t even pretend to be subtle. I was mid–flirting. I had a whole compliment lined up about her earrings. And she just—” He imitates her voice in a high-pitched tone. “‘Omg, you know Kim Taehyung, right? Can you introduce us?’” He clutches his chest. “I didn’t even get to the part where I say I like her style. Do you know how hard it is for me to do soft boy?”
“And last month?” the therapist asks, her pen hovering. She’s learned with Jackson that it’s best to let the monologue run.
Jackson’s shoulders slump. He covers his face with both hands like the memory physically hurts. “Yeonjun,” he whispers through his fingers.
The therapist leans in slightly. “I’m sorry?”
He drops his hands and looks at her, eyes wide and traumatized. “Yeonjun,” he repeats, louder. “From 4th gen.”
There’s a pause where even the clock on the wall seems to hesitate.
The therapist finally looks up properly. This, apparently, has crossed some invisible line.
“That… must hurt,” she says, and for once, it sounds less clinical and more like, girl, I’d be crying too.
Jackson’s voice cracks. “Do you know what it feels like to be the ‘do you know so-and-so’ guy? I’m like a walking LinkedIn connection for people’s crushes.” He sits forward, eyebrows knitting together. “Am I old?”
“You’re twenty,” she replies, already knowing what’s coming next.
“THAT’S WHAT I’M SAYING,” Jackson cries, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m surrounded by men who look like Greek gods,” he continues, counting on his fingers. “Jimin winks at people for fun. He doesn’t even mean it half the time. His resting state is flirt.” He holds up another finger. “Wonho exists. That’s a hate crime against the rest of us.” Another finger. “Eunwoo breathes near a girl and suddenly she’s like, ‘Wow, fate is real.’” Jackson gestures to himself. “And I’m out here getting friend-zoned into being a party promoter for other men’s relationships. I’m basically Eventbrite with abs.”
The therapist presses her lips together, clearly fighting a smile. “You do host a lot of parties,” she notes.
“That’s branding,” Jackson says defensively. “It’s community building. It’s networking. It’s—”
“It’s you inviting women to environments where all your stupidly attractive friends are also present,” she finishes gently.
He narrows his eyes at her, betrayal in his gaze. “Are you… victim blaming me right now?”
“I’m just observing a pattern,” she replies. “Maybe,” she says slowly, “stop inviting people to parties.”
Jackson blinks.
Stares.
Tilts his head like a confused golden retriever who just heard the word no for the first time.
“Stop… partying?” he echoes, as if she’s suggested he stop breathing.
“Or,” she clarifies, folding her hands over her notebook, “stop using parties as a personality.”
Jackson gasps like he’s been stabbed. “That’s literally my brand, doctor.” He looks personally attacked. “What am I supposed to do? Read?”
“Yes,” she says immediately.
He blinks again, horrified. “Like… books?”
She nods.
He mutters, “I knew this was going to be a hard session,” under his breath.
She gives him a very professional look. “I’m not answering that.”
“I’ll put that down as a yes,” he says confidently. “Continue.”
She takes a breath. “You are more than the fun guy who knows everyone. But right now, that’s the role you keep throwing yourself into. If you only ever show up as the party guy, people will treat you like a doorway. Not a destination.”
He goes quiet at that.
A doorway.
To Jungkook.
To Taehyung.
To Yeonjun–from–4th–gen.
He slumps back into the couch, staring at the ceiling. “So what, I need a new personality?”
“Not new,” she says. “Just… expanded. You don’t have to stop hosting parties, but maybe stop measuring your worth in how many people show up, or who asks for whose number.”
He kicks his foot a little, sulking. “That’s like… half my hobbies gone.”
“Develop new ones,” she suggests. “Ones that are just about you.”
He squints. “Like… cooking?”
“That could work.”
Jackson pictures himself in an apron, holding a pan, accidentally setting something on fire while a girl falls in love with him over ramen. He decides he likes that visual.
“Or,” she continues, “you could try going places alone. No entourage. No back-up dancers of doom. Just you.”
“Alone?” he repeats, like she’s suggested exile.
“Yes.”
“Do I at least get a good outfit?”
“Absolutely,” she says. “But no parties.”
He groans, dragging his hands down his face dramatically. “This is oppression.”
The therapist smiles. “It’s character development.”
He stares at the ceiling again, processing. Somewhere in the distance, a future version of him flips his hair in slow motion and thanks her. Present him, however, is still grieving.
After a few moments of theatrical suffering, Jackson sits up, elbows on his knees, hands clasped. He looks oddly serious for once.
“So what do I do,” he asks, “when the next girl asks me if I know Jungkook?”
The therapist considers this. “You tell her yes.”
He looks offended. “Doctor.”
She holds up a hand. “You tell her yes… and then you say, ‘But you’re talking to me right now.’ And you keep talking. You give yourself a chance in your own conversation.”
He blinks. “That’s… kind of smooth.”
“You’re welcome,” she says.
He leans back again, thinking. For the first time, he imagines a scenario where the girl doesn’t pivot away from him like he’s the customer service line to someone else’s heart.
Jackson leaves the session with one new affirmation, typed aggressively into his Notes app with a little sparkle emoji next to it:
I am more than a gateway to Jungkook.
His new goal? Make a girl fall in love with him before the next semester. Not with the parties. Not with the guest list. Not with the ‘oh yeah, I know him.’
With him.
With the guy who accidentally cries at animated movies, makes terrible late-night sandwiches, cares too much, overthinks everything, and still shows up anyway.
Godspeed, Jackson Wang.
He schedules another therapy appointment on his way out. He knows he’ll need it.
ain't no party like a jackson wang party
smut | party host!jackson wang x fem reader | spit kink, consensual mind/body control, wang calamari style squidlets | content warnings/tags here | 4.8K
This is pretty... explicit Like, from the third paragraph. No build up. No apologies. It's also very, very strange and weird and might gross you out, idk. Thanks for giving it a shot anyway? My prompt was puppeteering (because "mind control sex squidlets" wouldn't fit in the official schedule calendar).
My first contribution of @breakmeoff's KPOP Kinktober event. I'm sorry it's late, hopefully the, uh, originality will make up for it. Extra points go to anyone who can spot the references to Larie's first event, Fortune Favours the Brave.
Playlist:
Jackson Wang—Buck
Taemin—Sexy In The Air,
Panic!At The Disco—House of Memories (for the vibes)
Stray Kids—Celebrate
Potential trigger warnings: no choking but there is a dominant hand-on-neck moment, and one instance of gagging but in a spitting sense not a vomiting one. All other warnings can be found here. No cephalopods were harmed in the writing of this fic.
Across the multiverses, two truths ring universal.
Jackson Wang loves and respects women.
There ain’t no party like a Jackson Wang party.
You got here five minutes ago, and you've already walked past several new and creative sex acts.
You walked in through the door and almost tripped into a tangle of kpop royalty: Bom and CL scissoring, legs everywhere as they grind their labia and play with each other's clits.
They'd probably be making beautiful sounds, if it wants for the fact they both have their mouths full of cock—TOP using CL almost lovingly, while GD is face fucking Bom so hard it makes your throat ache in sympathy.
She seems to be enjoying it though, if the hand on his ass cheek is anything to go by. Acrylic nails digging into flesh, jerking him back and forth. Spanking him hard when his pace stutters or slows.
It's clear who's in charge of their raunchy love tangle, especially when CL startes squirting and rather than give her a break Bom slides two perfectly manicured fingers into her dripping cunt and starts fingerblasting her.
In another room, a naked and whiny Bang Chan is bent over between two of his younger members. Both of them fully dressed but with their pants down just enough to get their dicks out.
Even their dicks are dressed: Minho's pink condom looking so pretty as he gently slaps his dick against his hyung’s cheek—ignoring Chan's open, eager mouth in favour of a little degradation play.
What you could see of Han's condom appears to be green, though considering he's buried almost balls deep in Chan's ass makes it a little hard to tell. The puddle of precum under the eldest’s dripping cock let's you know they've been at this for a while. Poor Chan.
Hot as it is, it's bad manners to stare. So you ignore the ache in your panties and move to the next room.
Where party host Jackson Wang is laid out on the couch, barely dressed in a red silk robe, with two girls kissing around his cock. And another sat on his face. Anywhere else it would be awkward. But this is a Jackson Wang party. The annual Halloween orgy. What else could you expect?
The girls even have some of their costumes still on—one of them with bunny ears and a fluffy pufftail buttplug, the other with a devil tail snaking out from between her cheeks. Her horns are on the floor though, dislodged by the hand in her hair slowly guiding her tongue up and down Jackson's thick dick.
You have to wonder if they came wearing the anal accessories or if Jackson had a stash somewhere and was handing them out like party favours. The mental image of him standing by the front door with a big box of buttplugs waiting for his guests… Your brain doesn’t hate it.
Before you can move onto the next room, the girl riding his face keens out beautifully, thighs shaking and hips bucking as she cums on his tongue. Jackson's hands leave the hair of his cock-kissers to hold orgasm-girl’s hips, stroking soothing circles as he licks her through the pleasure as she writhes like a wild thing.
You meant to leave, but it was kind of hypnotic to watch. Just a whole bunch of writhing and moaning happening until he taps twice on her asscheek and she lifts off and collapses back on the couch. He sits up, abs flexing, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as his eyes find you. He gives you a slow grin, like he knew you were there and he’s been waiting all night for you to show up.
“Happy Halloween.” He strokes the hair of the two girls mouthing his junk before gently pushing them off and standing up. “Excuse me ladies.”
In any other circumstance you’d be worried about getting shanked by a fan, but these girls just go straight back to kissing, clearly unbothered by the lack of cock. Tragically, the cock in question gets covered as Jackson readjusts his robe tying it at the waist in some semblance of modesty.
“You must be Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”
Ah, yes. This is your first time actually meeting the man himself. They say first impressions matter, and what an impression he’s made. Before you can worry in kind he’s already grinning at you with a lazy smile and guiding you to the door with a gentleman’s gesture.
“Let’s get you a drink, yeah?”
The kitchen is thankfully though somewhat suspiciously free of fucking, and the shot glass he hands you is full of something orange and sparkly, and so blindingly neon it reminds you of the kind of jungle frogs you shouldn’t eat.
You down it in one, and he whistles in approval.
“A woman after my own heart.”
The alcohol goes down easy, spreading through your system with a rush of warmth and tingly goodness that has you ditching your inhibitions quicker than you can say 'commitment issues'.
Not that commitment is an issue in the current setting, but still. As the age-old adage goes, the night might be young but the condom supply is limited. So rather than wasting time you take your newfound confidence, look Jackson straight in the eye, and utter the magic words.
“Show me how to dance.”
“Yeah?”
Somehow his eyes light up while simultaneously flashing with something dark and delicious. His tongue flicks out over his lower lip as his eyes dark around the room, like he’s trying to decide if you guys should move out of the kitchen or not.
“Right here?”
“Yeah.”
You’re not sure if it’s the liquid courage or just the sheer amount of sexy in the air, but the idea of getting caught fucking in the kitchen isn’t as daunting as it would usually be. Sober you can cringe in the morning, but right now you’ve got the Jackson Wang half dressed looking at you like you’re a delicious plate of fresh calamari.
Food hygiene can go fuck itself for all you care.
Though it seems Jackson’s food safety standards are higher than yours, because he shakes his head knowingly and holds out his hand.
“Let’s go somewhere where we can be… undisturbed.”
Apparently, in Jackson-speak, undisturbed is not the same as privacy.
You discover this after he leads you upstairs to a room full of bodies writhing under red lights and a low, heavy baseline beating under the thrum of groans and whimpers.
Everyone’s eyes have a telltale glossy look, like they’ve taken a bunch of something that would usually be smoked and are now not fully in control of themselves… judging by the synchronous moans of multiple people reaching orgasm at the same time, everyone is having a wonderful time.
And the truth is so much better than drugs. Who needs a dealer when you’ve got Wang Calamari and his many magic tricks?
Smirking like he can hear you, Jackson turns to you. Looking you up and down like he’s already got you undressed.
“You know how this works?”
“I mean…”
You tilt your head. You were expecting to be more nervous, or at least a little shy. Instead you find yourself smirking back and speaking bluntly.
“You spit in my mouth, I swallow." You don’t miss the lip bite or the crotch-level twitch under his robe. "You get a show, and I get lots of orgasms.”
“Some might call that a gross oversimplification but… pretty much yeah.” He gives you a slow smirk before flicking his fingers at the nearest person. “Let me give you a demonstration first.”
She come towards him as if hypnotised, leaving her partner with their legs spread and shaking. There are no complaints from the interruption, with another person taking their place almost immediately.
Everyone’s moving with a strange fluidity, like jellyfish twisting in a slow current. That kind of ebb and flow that you only get when you’re drifting in the ocean.
It’s so hypnotic you almost forget about the demonstration until Jackson’s low tone makes your spine tingle.
“Ready for more, babygirl?”
Her eyes are a little clearer than the others, more lucid. Like the Wang effects are wearing off.
“Fuck, yes.” She grins lazily, looking at you with a smile that’s somewhere between friendly and lustful. “Your first time?”
You nod, trying not to get distracted by her tits. All tits are great, but hers are truly spectacular. She laughs easily and reaches for your hand, halfway to guiding you to her breast before Jackson gently hooks his thumb under her wrist.
“Demonstration first, then you can play.” His eyes flick to yours, one concerned eyebrow raised. “If that’s cool with you? Consent is key here.”
You nod, lazily twisting your fingers with hers. They grin, and then Jackson taps her chin. “Watch this.”
She tilts her head, open mouth tipped towards his like they’re about to kiss. He closes his eyes and frowns like he’s concentrating, swallowing a few times like he’s about to gag.
And then he slowly spits into her mouth.
It’s hot. It’s filthy. It’s hypnotising.
And it’s a little bit weird, when the tiny squid start appearing, dripping from his mouth to hers.
You knew it was going to happen, but it’s still fascinating to watch. The true allure of Wang Calamari: mind control sex squidlets. It doesn’t sound real, it doesn’t sound even vaguely believable. It sounds like something from a bad fanfic written for a halloween event and posted six days late.
Apparently they taste delicious, judging from the way she moans as they slip into her mouth. It seems to go on forever, this cephalopod exchange, but realistically it’s probably over in seconds.
Watching Jackson wipe his mouth with the back of his hand for the second time tonight all you can think of is that if you didn’t have a spit kink before, you certainly do now.
The squidlet effect sets in quickly, that glossy, semi-vacant glassiness returning to her eyes as she leans up to kiss him, long and slow. He looks to you over her shoulder and holds up an apologetic finger as if to say, one moment please, before closing his eyes and kissing her back.
Jealous isn’t the right word for what you’re feeling. It’s more like… impatience. The thrum of anticipation tickling under your skin as you watch their tongues tangle and his fingers twine in her hair. He’s kissing her like she’s his long lost lover he thought was lost at sea, and all you can think is…
My turn next.
They pull apart with strings of spit linking their lips, before Jackson smacks her ass playfully and nods back to the mob, where her partner from before is now getting rawdogged by two guys and another girl. At a Jackson Wang party, no hole is spared.
Once again, it’s like he reads your mind as he turns back to you.
“Any hard limits?”
“Mmm…” You think about it. You’re about to give over your body to telekinetic calamari because you wanted to try new things, though one could argue that you may have been slightly influenced by the fact that Jackson is incredibly hot… It seems a little prudish to define your preferences. But he’s giving those eyes that clearly stating once again, that consent is key.
“I don’t really feel like anal today.”
“Just today?”
You shrug, as if the idea of getting invited back doesn’t make you fizz all the way down to your toes. Your nonchalance gets you a quirked eyebrow and a lopsided smirk, followed by a slow nod.
“Noted. No anal today.”
He takes a step closer, that smirk slowly stretching into something deeper, something that promises fun like you’ve never experienced before. Like the both of you are sharing a secret no one else would understand. Like he’s about to introduce you to unreal levels of pleasure.
Like he’s about to spit squid into your mouth and take control of your body.
He traces your jaw with the tip of his finger, lifting your chin with the lightest pressure.
“Wanna share, or just me this time?”
His voice is a low whisper, something that makes you shiver on the inside. But you contain it, you’re not some star struck little fangirl. You’re a grown woman, and you’re here to fuck.
One person only.
“Just you.” Jackson’s eyes darken a shade, clearly affected by the thought of having you all to himself. As he leans down to kiss you, just before his lips touch yours, you can’t help but add, “...this time.”
He groans low in his throat and closes the gap, his lips pressing against yours slowly and surely and with the confidence of a man with a thousand first kisses.
What starts as something chaste quickly sinks deeper, into open mouths and twisting tongues and moans that rise from low in the belly. The fingers on your jaw slide down your neck until his hand is resting at the base of your throat, with a touch more sensual than possessive. Not choking, just… holding you steady.
He pulls back just enough to ask, “You ready?”
His eyes are all pupil and his lips are kissed raw, the imprint of your teeth on his lower lip from a bite you don’t remember giving. You don’t answer with words. Instead, you just open your mouth and wait. You’ve always been a swallower.
He groans, low in his throat, but rather than spitting in your mouth he leans forward and kisses you again. Nothing soft, everything hungry. The hand at the base of your throat squeezes slightly, a warning of what’s going to come.
You feel it, the first one. It’s a bit like swallowing the pit of a cherry after all the flesh has been chewed off. It doesn't taste of anything, but the way it wiggles down your throat makes your skin crawl.
The second one isn’t so bad, now that you know what to expect. That crawling feeling on your skin seeps into something different, a tingle that usually stays between your thighs spreading over your entire body. That hot, familiar feeling of neediness transforming into something darker as more of Jackson floods your mouth, flooding through your system like contaminated water.
You open your eyes only to be met with his, now an ungodly glowing white as he releases into you some of whatever eldritch demons reside inside him.
It shouldn’t be so fucking hot, but it is.
He pulls back enough to spit once more into your mouth, more saliva than squid this time. His eyes lose their luminosity, returning to a brown so deep it’s almost black. He licks on last wriggling squid off your cheek, flicking in into your mouth with his tongue and watching you swallow it.
“Good girl.”
Your eyes almost roll back into your head at that, two simple words reducing you to a puddle of want trapped in human form. If you were in control of your body, you’d surely sink to your knees and suck his cock, eager for more praise. The squid must be communicating your feelings back to him, because he smirks and shakes his head.
“Not yet, babygirl. This isn’t about me. Though..." The corner of his mouth lifts in a twist of lust and mischief as his eyes slowly run down your body. "I wouldn't mind seeing what's under that tight little skirt."
Dark eyes, lip bite, and it’s like your body is no longer your own—because it isn’t. Your hands are moving but you’re not in charge. That hypnotic current you could sense pulsing through the orgy, you can now feel it in yourself as your hands move to the hem of your skirt.
You’re not sure who’s more eager, you or Jackson, as the fabric inches up your thighs. Tantalisingly slow. He makes the most delicious sound at the glimpse of your bare pussy when your hands finally lift your skirt high enough to reveal your complete lack of underwear.
“No panties?”
He half-whispers, half-groans, dropping back into an oversized armchair and palming himself over his robe. His grip—or the squids—over your stumbles for a second, like he’s too turned on to concentrate properly, and your voice manages to bubble up through the haze in your brain.
“Seemed kind of pointless to wear them.”
Jackson stares at you for a second, struck dumb, all wide eyes and parted lips. Then he squeezes himself firmly, like he’s trying not to cum then and there.
“Fuck, I think I love you.”
You barely hear his words before it hits you—a rushing wave of lust and want, hitting you so hard and so fast it makes you stumble, and suddenly your flimsy Halloween costume is shredded by your own hands.
You never realised how soft your skin is until now, now that you’re stroking over your body like your caressing the finest fabrics. Not even your erogenous zones, not yet, no—your hands are gliding over your arms, up your throat and down the back of you neck. Down the dip between your breasts, stroking over your belly and curling over your hip.
It’s a strange, sensual foreplay between your hands and Jackson’s mind, his eyes greedily drinking in the view of you touching yourself like this. Deep in the haze, the last sober scrap of you wonders why you don’t feel self-conscious. Sensing your thought, Jackson’s eyes flick to yours as his mind guides your hands to your breasts, cupping them lightly and stroking over your nipples until they pebble.
He opens your connection a little wider, so you can understand. The reality knocks the breath out of you, and then you moan anyway as one of your hands slips between your legs, cupping your sex completely and just feeling the warm wetness there.
You’re not feeling your emotions, you’re feeling his. You’re seeing yourself the way he sees you.
Seductive. Sensual. A goddess to be worshipped, with your body as your shrine and his, the offering.
You feel the weight of his desire for you, from the moment you walked into his life months ago and simmering until now. Growing ever stronger the way the flavour of a stock deepens the longer you let it cook.
You’re not sure which feelings are yours, which parts of the lust that's storming through you belong to you and what belongs to him. Does it really matter?
All you know is you’re full of two forces pulling towards each other, a mix of wanting to drag this out with eons of foreplay to make up for the countless nights spent wishing he was fucking you and not his hand (ah, that must be Jackson’s) and wanting to hurry up and jump on his dick already (that one’s probably yours).
If you were in control of your body, you’d be climbing onto his lap and riding him relentlessly until you’re both fucked stupid. But you’re not, but hey, the way two of your own fingers are slipping into your cunt has you thinking this might not be so bad.
Your fingers start moving slowly, dragging in and out almost lazily as your thumb brushes your clit. It’s a strange sensation, being touched like this. It’s both achingly familiar and excitingly new. The only thing you know for sure?
You’ve never been so wet.
He’s laying back in the chair now, biting his lip and eyefucking you so hard you can already feel your guts being rearranged. You drool—actually drool—a little bit as he tugs on the tie of his robe, the silk easily slipping free and splitting over his hips, revealing that gorgeous cock you only got a glimpse of earlier.
It’s thick, and it's heavy, and it's decorated with blurry lipstick kisses that are only getting more smudged as Jackson strokes himself. Is fucking something covered in lipstick a good idea? Probably not. Are you going to do it anyway? Absolutely.
But more important than that, catching your eye and demanding your attention way more than the rainbow of red-and-pink-and-purple-and-black (it’s Halloween, after all) staining his shaft…
Of course Jackson Wang has a dick piercing.
It’s simple, just a stud on the cuff of his glans, but it is large. So large that you just know it’s gonna be perfectly placed to hit your g-spot from just about any angle. You haven’t fucked a guy with a junk jewellery before, you’ve never really thought about it. But if that dick isn’t inside you in the next 30 seconds, you might get violent.
You know Jackson can feel your frustration through the bond, through the thousands of tiny squid swimming through your system and driving you half mad with arousal.
And apparently he’s into it, smirking at you as he pumps himself at the exact same pace as the fingers in your cunt. Taking his time. The smug cunt, teasing you in your snug cunt, getting you all hot and sticky and—oh fuck.
You didn’t feel the orgasm coming until it hit you like a truck.
A truck with no respect for any speed limits, or the concept of gravity.
It nearly knocks you off your feet, and if you were in control of your body you would’ve definitely hit the floor. But apparently the squidlets also care not for gravity, because you stay rooted to the spot, stuck in the same place as your body thrashes with pleasure.
You’re tingly from the tips of your toes all the way to the top of your head. Your third eye is seeing new colours. You may have transcended time and space.
You’ve barely caught your breath, only just coming into your body as your other hand—the one that isn’t two fingers deep in your pussy, still throbbing with that post-climax pulse—trails up your torso to cup your breast. A single exploratory squeeze is enough to make Jackson narrow his eyes. Like he’s personally offended that your tits are all the way over there where you're standing and not in his mouth already.
A problem easily rectified.
You’re on his lap in a matter of moments, straddling his lap but standing on your knees rather than sitting on him so that your breasts are right in his face. He doesn’t hesitate, the hand not fisting his cock grabbing one and practically yanking it into his mouth. Fitting as much of you as he can in his mouth as he frantically thumbs your other nipple, his other hand pressing between your shoulder blades to arch you further into him.
He’s gonna devour you. From the inside out. Or the outside in, it doesn’t matter anymore.
His cool and calm persona from earlier has completely melted. Into something needy and desperate and uncontrolled, that whimpers when you reach down and grab his cock.
Oh fuck.
You knew it was big. You saw it was big. But you didn’t realise just how thick it was until now that you’ve got your hand around him. He’s not the only one whimpering as you drag him back and forth through your folds.
And that piercing, the pearl on the edge of his tip? The cool metal of his piercing contrasting with his hot silky skin as you halfway to another orgasm just with one touch.
Jackson growls as you press him against your entrance, biting your breast hard enough to make you slap him off you out of instinct. Your eyes widen in shock, but before you can apologise he’s tugging you down onto his cock, blindly humping up into like you just unlocked something in him.
Apparently Jackson’s into a little pain.
You? Not so much. And as amazing as his cock feels bumping against your clit, when he finds your entrance with a particularly rough thrust you find yourself flinching away.
“Too thick…”
You didn’t mean to say it outloud, though the issue is already speaking for itself as he unsuccessfully tries to penetrate you.
Jackson’s smirk is slightly diminished by how breathless he is, one cheek a little red from your slap as he looks up at you with pupils blown so wide with lust his eyes seem all black.
“Lemme help with that.”
You feel the tingling inside you as he takes command of the squid again, dragging your hands back down to your pussy. Faster than last time, like his patience is finally wearing thin. You try to steady your breathing as you feel your own fingers spread your folds, your other hand dipping into you with two fingers.
Your walls are already relaxed from your first orgasm, so you can easily slip in a third finger even at the awkward angle. But it’s still not enough. Your fingers aren’t big enough to stretch you the way his cock demands. You need more.
Jackson is only too happy to oblige, teasing around your entrance, feeling how taut your little entrance is, stuffed with your fingers. Tapping on your knuckles, the palm of his hand pressing you deeper, before slowly wiggling his index finger between yours and—
Oh god, is he going to—
Yup.
“Deep breath, baby.”
He kisses you deeply as he presses into you, muffling your whimpers with his tongue as he adds his fingers to the mix. First one, then two, stretching you out. He just holds you there for a moment, stuffed full of fingers, your poor little pussy stretched wider than it’s ever been before.
It’s so intense you almost cum when he starts to move. The tight fit means all the fingers inside you—yours and his—thrust into you at the same time. And then drag out again, almost completely…
The slow, steady pace is more agonizing than the stretch. Though after a few strokes, your body starts adjusting and it starts to feel... good.
It's still a little uncomfortable, but the skillful rubbing inside you—his fingers, yours, squid in your bloodstream...
Just as everything starts to feel normal again, he skewers one more finger into you. And it hurts, but it hurts good. Maybe you have a stretch kink now, who knows. Jackson knows. Now you're three for three and dripping down his wrist, breathing deeply and willing your body to give just a little more room...
Then Jackson curls his fingers—and yours—just right, and between that and being stretched in all these new places takes you right to the edge and and and—
"C'mon baby," Jackson pants, pressing his forehead into your shoulder, the veins in his forearm popping as he speeds up his pace again. "C'mon, you can give me another one... Be a good girl for me and cum on my fingers..."
Then he takes his cock in hand and nudges it against you, and the zing of the cold metal pearl of his piercing bumping into your clit sends you over the edge.
Screaming.
You’re barely done cumming when Jackson pulls his fingers out of you, arm shaking and leaving your pussy stretched and empty and lonely. You’re still pulsing from your orgasm as he tugs you down, one hand on your hips to guide you and the other jerking his cock a few times as he lines himself up.
“S’rry babygirl… can’t wait any longer…”
His half mumble turns into a full blown moan as his tip finally, finally presses inside you.
The combination of two orgasms and six fingers has you opened up enough that you can finally take his cock, though it’s still a tight enough fit that you feel like you’re being split in two.
“Fuck, baby, fuck, baby—”
Every shallow thrust is punctuated with a curse as Jackson fucks his way into your cunt, your wet and willing pussy yielding to the glorious invasion that is his cock. It reaches deeper than anything you’ve had before, even your longest toy doesn’t bump your cervix like he does.
“N’t g’nna last…”
His thrusts are fast, almost rabid as he jerks under you, holding your hips tightly as he jackhammers away.
“Can I cum in you? Please? Please, baby? Babygirl?”
You’re so cock drunk now that you’re incapable of words, and even if you could speak the only question in your mind is whether there’ll be squid involved, and that feels like a mood-ruiner.
So you just nob dumbly, going limp as he fully takes control and bounces you up and down his dick.
It’s hard, it’s fast, and then just when you think it can’t get any better he adjusts his angle so that his piercing is ramming right into your g-spot.
Your vision goes white. You scream. You even squirt.
Jackson’s still going, thighs shaking and hands squeezing tight enough to bruise as he uses you as a fleshlight, chanting a mix of swear words, babygirl, and your name as he gets closer. If he doesn’t cum soon you might actually die.
But then again… maybe that doesn’t sound so bad,
Death by Jackson Wang’s wang. What a way to go.
It's done. It's finally done. I'm sorry this has taken me so long and that it's so late, and I'm sorry that the ending is a little anticlimactic. I just couldn't write anymore. About half of this is proofread, then I gave up.
If you got this far, thank you for reading. The Bang Chan + friends vampire one coming out on the 31st will be better, I promise.
master post | part 4 @baby-yongbok | part 6 @angel-writes-skz-here
wc: 574 vibe: horror crack summary: it's about to get real weird squiddy up in here
Something feels off. People don’t just disappear.
Admittedly, 2nd gen k-pop royalty doesn’t usually get summoned by tiny genie children and the Kool-Aid man rarely leaves Quahog. But everything that just happened- the banging, the shaking, TOP’s weird cucumber fixation… It all felt so real.
“I thought this was a party.” Jackson murmurs as he looks around the empty room, frowning and placing a protective hand into the small of your back.
“So did I…” You mumble, trying to focus on the comforting pressure of his hand he guides you back through the door he came in through.
Into another empty room.
“So…” Jackson is smiling at you, looking around the empty space like this is totally normal and nodding his head to a beat you can’t hear. “You wanna dance?”
“Actually I think I might go home.” You can’t help but feel mildly pissed off at his attitude, but you don’t want to be rude so you make up a quick excuse just to be polite. “I feel kind of sick. Must’ve drank some bad soju.” To be fair, you’re not lying.
But as you go to step away from him, his grip tightens on your waist.
“Tell me, pretty thing…” His voice takes on a strange, raspy edge, like chalk being dragged over concrete. “Where did you get that?” His narrowed eyes are fixated on your hand.
“Where did I get what?” You ask, confused until you see what he’s looking at. Your blood turns to ice.
You’re still holding a piece of the slimy soju bottle from before.
Suddenly Bang Chan drops down from the ceiling in full tactical gear, katana drawn and levelled at Jackson.
“Get away from him! He’s not what he seems!”
To your confusion, Jackson giggles. It sounds like bubbles bursting. Not in a good way.
You look at Jackson. Really look at him. His smile is a little too crooked, a little too intense. And is that… ink? Leaking from his eyes?
He’s starting to look like a member of KISS, and everyone knows that’s never a good thing.
“So, you wanna dance?” He repeats, grinning maniacally at Chan. “I can show you how to dance.”
And then he explodes into a thousand tiny squid.
Each one of them chanting, in high pitched squeaky voices better suited to animated chipmunks, that they’re going to show you how to dance.
“Stay behind me!” Chan shouts, slicing through the squidlets with the kind of speed and efficiency you only get from playing too much Fruit Ninja. By the time you get to the door, the both of you are waist deep in recently deceased calamari.
He opens the door for you and gently pushes you through it with a shy smile. If it wasn’t for the squid bits he’s covered in, he’d look very cute. There’s a pause between you two, and for a moment you think he might kiss you. But then he shakes his head, his lips pressing into a thin line.
“You need to go. I’ll hold them off.”
You almost ask, “hold off what?” but then you see it, and all that comes out of your mouth is a choked scream.
The squid bits are reforming, squelching themselves back together.
Bang Chan looks over his shoulder and nods grimly. He gives you one last smile.
“Whatever you do, do not get lost in the groove.”
And then he slams the door in your face.
I wish I had a better explanation guys, but @breakmeoff got me to watch the buck mv now we live here. Thanks for inviting me larie, hope you don't regret it 😅 @angel-writes-skz-here, I can't wait to read what comes out of your brain next 🦑 💖
Jackson woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest as he realized where he was. The dream had been so vivid, so real, that for a moment, he couldn't distinguish reality from the fantasy. He was lying on his bed, sheets twisted around his legs, and sweat beaded on his forehead. His hand was between his legs, still gripped around his erection, which pulsed with leftover desire from the dream.
In his dream, he had been with her again—his best friend, Mia. They were on a secluded beach, the sand soft and warm beneath their naked bodies. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, the sound a sensual backdrop to their passionate encounter. Mia had looked at him with those deep, brown eyes, filled with a mixture of desire and uncertainty, and then she had whispered his name, low and husky, making his blood rush south.
Jackson groaned, shifting uncomfortably on the bed. The dream had been so intense, so detailed, that he could still feel the ghost of her touch on his skin. He could almost hear her moans echoing in his ears, taste the salt of her tears mingling with the sweat on her cheeks. In the dream, he had taken her, possessed her, made her cry out his name in a mix of pain and pleasure until she shattered around him, her body convulsing with a force that left them both gasping for air.
He sat up, running a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It had felt so real, too real, and the guilt was already settling like a heavy stone in his stomach. Mia was his best friend, his confidante, the one person he could always count on. How could he have such thoughts about her? And yet, the dream had been undeniable, the passion overwhelming.
Jackson stood, walking to the window to clear his head. The city lights shimmered below, a sea of stars reflecting the night sky. He leaned against the cool glass, letting the chill seep into his overheated skin. The dream wasn’t just any fantasy; it had been a revelation, a forbidden glimpse into what could never be.
As he stood there, lost in thought, his phone buzzed on the bedside table. It was a text from Mia. "Hey, you up? Need to talk."
His heart skipped a beat. Could she sense something? Did she know about the dream? Jackson hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. What could he say? How could he face her after what he had dreamt?
With a deep breath, he typed back, "Yeah, I’m up. Everything okay?"
The reply came quickly. "Not really. Can you come over? I need your advice, and maybe a shoulder to cry on."
Jackson’s stomach twisted. She needed him, and here he was, caught up in his own guilty fantasies. He couldn’t let her down, not when she needed him the most. With a resolve that surprised even himself, he replied, "On my way. Be there in 10."
He dressed quickly, pulling on jeans and a hoodie, his mind racing. As he drove to Mia’s place, the dream kept playing in his mind, each scene more vivid than the last. By the time he parked outside her apartment, his hands were shaking slightly. He took a moment to steady himself, then climbed the stairs to her door.
Mia opened it before he could knock, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, her expression vulnerable. "Thanks for coming," she said softly, stepping aside to let him in.
Jackson nodded, his throat tight. He followed her into the living room, where she collapsed onto the couch, hugging a pillow to her chest. "I don’t know what to do," she began, her voice wobbling. "It’s about Alex. We had this huge fight, and I think it might be over."
Jackson listened as she poured out her heart, detailing the argument, the accusations, the hurtful words that had been thrown like knives. He sat beside her, offering silent comfort, his hand resting lightly on her back. As she spoke, the tension in her body gradually eased, her sobs subsiding into hiccupping breaths.
"I’m sorry," she whispered finally, wiping her eyes. "I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. You must be tired."
Jackson shook his head, his voice gentle. "You can always talk to me, Mia. That’s what friends are for, right?"
She smiled weakly, nodding. "Yeah, I guess so."
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside. Jackson watched her, his mind still reeling from the dream, from the raw emotions they had shared. He wanted to reach out, to hold her, to offer more than just friendship. But he feared the consequences, the potential loss of her trust, her friendship.
As if sensing his turmoil, Mia turned to him, her eyes searching his face. "What about you? Anything bothering you?"
Jackson hesitated, torn. Should he confess the dream? Share the secret desires that had haunted him? Or should he keep it buried, locked away where it couldn’t harm them?
Before he could answer, Mia shifted closer, her hand finding his. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?"
Her touch was electric, sending sparks through his body. Jackson swallowed hard, his resolve crumbling. "There’s...something I dreamt about," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "It was about us, Mia. About...you and me."
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she waited, her hand still holding his, giving him the courage to continue.
"We were together," Jackson admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "In the dream, we were more than friends. It was intense, passionate...forbidden."
Mia remained silent, her gaze unwavering. Jackson took a deep breath, plunging ahead. "I know it sounds crazy, but it felt so real. I woke up thinking about you, wanting...things I shouldn’t."
To his surprise, Mia didn’t recoil. Instead, she leaned closer, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Maybe it wasn’t just a dream," she murmured, her voice trembling. "Maybe there’s something between us that we’ve been denying for too long."
Jackson’s heart leaped at her words, hope mingling with fear. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "Are you sure?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.
Mia closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. "I think so," she breathed, her lips parting slightly.
The air between them crackled with tension, charged with the promise of what could be. Jackson’s hand slid around her neck, drawing her closer, his lips inches from hers. "Can I kiss you?" he asked, his voice a ragged plea.
Mia nodded, her eyes fluttering open, revealing a vulnerability that tore at his heart. "Please," she whispered, her voice a mix of longing and surrender.
Jackson hesitated, his gaze locked on her lips, waiting for the final confirmation. Mia’s hand found his cheek, guiding his face closer, her eyes closing as their lips met.
The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, a question answered with a sigh. Jackson deepened it, his tongue tracing her lips, seeking entry. Mia whimpered, opening for him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.
Their bodies pressed together, the heat between them palpable, a tangible thing that threatened to consume them both. Jackson’s hands roamed her back, memorizing the curves, the softness, the feel of her in his arms. Mia arched into him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, her breath coming in short gasps.
"Jackson," she moaned, her voice a plea, a promise.
He lifted her, carrying her to the bedroom, his lips never leaving hers. The world around them faded, replaced by the urgency of their need, the hunger that had simmered beneath the surface for far too long.
Laying her gently on the bed, Jackson hovered above her, his eyes dark with desire. "Are you sure?" he asked again, needing to hear the words, to know this was real.
Mia nodded, her hands tugging at his shirt, her eyes fierce with determination. "I’ve never been more sure," she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.
Jackson kissed her again, his hands exploring her body, mapping every inch with reverent touches. Mia responded, her hands fumbling with his clothes, desperate to feel his skin against hers.
As their clothes fell away, the barriers between them crumbled, revealing the raw, untamed passion that had been hidden for so long. Jackson settled between her legs, his cock pressing against her entrance, slick with anticipation.
"Look at me," he commanded, his voice gruff with need.
Mia obeyed, her eyes wide and trusting, her body open to him. Jackson pushed inside, slowly, deliberately, watching her face for any sign of pain. Mia gasped, her nails digging into his back, her body stretching to accommodate him.
"You feel so good," Jackson groaned, his hips moving in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
Mia wrapped her legs around his waist, meeting his thrusts with a strength that surprised him. "Harder," she begged, her voice hoarse with desire.
Jackson complied, driving into her with renewed vigor, his body a blur of motion, his senses consumed by the feel of her, the sound of her cries, the sight of her arching beneath him.
"Yes, yes, yes," Mia chanted, her body clenching around him, her orgasm building with each stroke.
Jackson watched her, his own release nearing, his control fraying at the edges. "Come for me," he urged, his voice a rough whisper. "Let go, Mia."
With a strangled cry, Mia shattered, her body convulsing around him, her juices flowing over his cock, coating them both in a sticky mess. Jackson followed her, spilling deep inside, his release a thunderous wave that left him gasping for air.
They lay intertwined, their bodies slick with sweat, their hearts pounding in unison. Jackson brushed a strand of hair from Mia’s face, his thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with wonder.
Mia smiled, her eyes shining with tears. "I love you too," she confessed, her voice soft, her words a vow.
Jackson kissed her, his heart full, his mind clear. The dream had become reality, the forbidden lust unleashed, and he knew, without a doubt, that he would never look back.
„Oh my god, did you see this?????“, your friend asked.
With shaking hands you clicked on the link.
„I used to be critical on myself in my mind in a negative way. Not healthy. At all. I would call myself names and put myself down in my mind. I drank the most disgusting shakes for my body health but up here? I was rotting.“
„Yeah, yeah. I remember videos of that nasty shake. What did you put in there - chicken?“
„Gotta get my protein, man. But you know I would constantly feel guilty for what I have done or what I might do.“
„Like what?“
„Like. Okay, like did I practice enough? Is magic man good enough? What if I let everybody down? How will I cope? How will I live?
All these voices.. these fucking nagging voices were with me 24/7.“
„Damn that sounds tough. What did you do?“
„I thought it was impossible to fix because I tried so hard and nothing changed me. Or if it did, it would only last a couple of weeks and I’d be back to feeling like shit and talking down on myself.
Jackson, you moron, how could you do this? Did you really think you could make it? You don’t deserve this success. You don’t deserve to be happy.“
„Jackson, bro. I feel for you. Really.“
„Look, I’m just being honest. I would naturally think of punishments coming my way. I’d imagine injuring myself or loosing all my fans or money. I’d think of the most horrific shit late at night when I should be peacefully sleeping.
I would try to change my thoughts to change my feeling. I would rationalize my way out for hours to only find myself entering a new cave.“
„Like a merry go round.“
„Exactly, I was stuck. Same shit, different day. My gut always had this underlying feeling of tension.
I tried my best to give myself relief but like I said, I could not find Relief for longer than a week. Maybe a month at best.“
„Is that why you turned to alcohol? Because I remember you chugging down a bottle of Hennessy and thought to myself that’s not normal.“
„Oh, of course I started drinking more. I needed more. What used to make me pass out back then is like a cute little cocktail to me now.“
„Damn, that really is a lot to handle. Did you try other things, as well?“
„Look, I tried everything in the book. You name it, I tried it. Worked out. Meditated. Drank. Had sex. Nothing could give me what I craved so badly. Nothing. Until I found her.“
You swallowed hard.
You had no idea that he would share all this with the public. You were very well aware of his struggles but hearing him talk about them upset you. It broke your heart imagining him like that, all dim and broken.
Also, it made you nervous.
You had no idea that he would introduce you into the world like this.
You had no idea that he would reveal your relationship to his homies on a podcast.
Yet, you were intrigued.
„Her as in …?“
„You see, love is a funny thing, right? I didn’t plan to fall in love, nor did I want to but I kind of did. I found the one, man. I found the love of my life and I was lucky enough to have her love me back. Do you know how rare that is?“
„Yeah, it is for you. I remember our last interview and how we wanted to get you on tinder and shit.“
„Exactly! I used to be on my own for years. Years, man. I gave up on love completely, thinking this was meant for others but certainly not me. And then she came into my life. Like an angel that was coming down to help me. Save me even.“
„Your savior, huh?“
„I swear to god her love saved me. It saved me from drugs, it saved me from self destruction and first and foremost it saved me from myself. I gotta be honest man, if I hadn’t met y/n I wouldn’t even be here anymore.“
„Wow. That’s, that’s a pretty heavy revelation. I’m glad you’re doing better now.“
„Oh, I am. Management is probably going to kick my ass later but I don’t care. Let me loose fans, let me loose money. I don’t give a shit. If you support me now, you support the real Jackson Wang. And that’s me right now - happily coupled to the most beautiful soul on this planet. If you can’t handle that - my bad.“
„Okay guys, it’s over. China‘s most wanted bachelor is officially off the market. WHOOOO!!“
„Yeah, the king has finally found its queen.“
„So, what is she like?“
You paused the interview and took a deep breath. Jackson was very vocal of his feelings for you, but hearing it like that felt different. The biggest smile was plastered on his face as he was talking about you.
You as in his queen.
You as in future Miss Wang.
Hundreds of butterflies announced themselves in your stomach, making you giddy and joyful.
„Oh man, she is the best. Like, she is so breathtakingly beautiful. Inside and out. We have the best conversations. I feel like she is my best friend. Truly, no one gets me like she does. It’s just.. it’s effortlessly easy. We laugh a lot, we talk a lot, we share everything with each other. I’m just so grateful, man.“
„Yeah, I can see that. You’re grinning from ear to ear. Make sure to invite me to your wedding.“
„Like you invited me to your birthday?“
„Okayyyyy, let’s wrap it up. Guys, that’s it for today. Thank you Jackson, really appreciate you brother.“
You stopped the video, giggling at your petty boyfriend.
„Remind me to have a word with you once you’re back, yeah?“, you texted him.
It didn’t take him a second to instantly call you.
„Did you see it? Already? Damn babygirl, you’re quick“, he teased.
„You could have warned me, Wang!“
„I didn’t plan to say all that but I couldn’t help myself. It just.. it just came out of me. I really meant it though.“
„Everything?“
He knew exactly what you were implying.
„Oh, I’m gonna make you Miss Wang for sure. Rule my kingdom with me? Please?“
Mornings used to be rushed, since he had to balance the weight of the world on his strong shoulders. Quick kisses, quick touches, quick releases followed by quick declarations of love.
But ever since you got pregnant quickness got interchanged with longevity.
Jackson took his time to be there for you - and your precious little angel that would soon be welcomed into this world.
He would hold you in his arms and whisper the sweetest compliments in your ear. He would kiss and caress you, always attuned to how you were feeling that morning.
In the first months of your pregnancy he used to hold your hair back and dry your tears but ever since you reached the last semester you were relaxed. Jackson’s hands never left your round belly, he always hoped to catch a kick. He would look at you like you put the stars in the sky, he was still in awe that you were about to gift him the biggest present he would ever receive.
„My baby, my sweet, precious baby“, he would mutter under his breath.
„Hey, what about me?“, you faked jealousy in oder to get his attention. Jackson threw his head back in laughter and mustered you vividly. „You, y/n, are the love of my life. My glowing goddess. My happiness. My life.“
Moments like these made you think about creating a sibling instantly.
Waking hours were spent on your own, but never lonely. Jackson would text and call as often as he could, always tense if you were alright. He hated being away from you, especially now, but his drive and ambition was just a part of him as his loving kindness. After all, why not create a kingdom for the newest member of team wang?
He would drop baby names and ask for your opinion. He would order giant plushies and colorful blankets and stylish onesies like crazy because he wanted his child to be the happiest. Jackson postponed meetings and shows because he would want to spend every minute with you two. If he couldn’t make it he would send his best friends to look after you, sometimes even his mom. He had always been protective but ever since you got pregnant his urge to protect merged into something bigger, more purposeful.
Nights used to be sexy and passionate but ever since you got pregnant they were mostly replaced with comfort and relaxation. You didn’t mind as you knew that he loved you regardless, but something about your pregnancy glow made him go feral. But he would never pressure, never rush, you always came first.
Jackson would pour you lavender bubble baths and chat with you while figuring out how to build a crib. He would wash your hair and place sloppy kisses all over your face, happily. He would massage your feet and rub your belly with oil to help with stretch marks.
„Hey, little one. Here is your daddy“, he would always whisper against your belly. „I know you’re comfortable in there but I really can’t wait to finally meet you. I feel like I’ve waited for you all my life.“
Moments like these made you tear up even more, fuck hormones, Jackson was supplying you with all.
You caressed his hair, massaging his scalp lightly.
„Jackson“, you called out. On his knees he looked up, eyes glossy with appreciation and grace.
„I love you“, you whispered.
He smiled and looked away, wiping a tear from his cheek.
„Hey, don’t you hide from me. You’ve seen me cry hundreds of times, haven’t you?“
He chuckled, his eyes back on you. „I’m just so grateful, you know? I’ve been lonely for so long and now I have you and our little angel. Sometimes I wonder if I deserve all this, you know y/n?“
Old habits die hard, don’t they? You helped him up and kissed him tenderly.
„Jacky, you don’t deserve this. You deserve even more. Trust me on that one?“
