The air was practically burning with his rage. You barely dared to move a muscle. After John had dragged you out of that bar and shoved you into his truck, he hadn’t said a word to you. His gaze was focused on the dark road in front of him, knuckles almost completely white around the wheel. You had your head against the window and watched the trees pass by. It was just a harmless flirt with the bartender because you did need some information. It wasn’t like John hadn’t done it a million times before, just that in this case the bartender was a guy and you worked your charm on him. Bad idea. Really bad. John wasn’t the sharing type at all and you could literally see the gears working in his head. It made you nervous and excited at the same time, completely on edge.
Request: It was long and I don’t want to give away too much! Weekly Idol. Jackson. Wild and Sexy. And some sweet ^.^
Member: Got7′s Jackson x Y/N x (ft. Yugyeom)
Type: angst/fluff/mention of smutty situations
I emerged out of the cave like room and stumbled my way down the hallway. I wasn’t drunk, but I felt like I was. That was his effect on me though. Before I had entered this agreement, I had no idea how he would impact my body, all of my senses. What the side effects were.
I quickly found my way to the bathroom door handle and gave it a quick push, making sure no one was standing in the way of my sobriety. Without even turning on the light, I shut the door behind me and navigated to the sink and turned it on, dunking my face under the cold water.
I stood back up and flipped on the light switch in one swift motion. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the light, but even through the blur, the dark hickies on my neck caught my attention. I tried to focus on the mirror in front of me and tilted my head in every angle I could manage, getting a better mapping of the new galaxies he had placed on my skin.
The water trickled down my neck and caught along my shoulders. Taking the hand towel, I patted at the sensitive skin as gently as I could and groaned.
Jackson was one hell of a drug.
Whatever this was began on the set of Weekly Idol, generally his hang out at least once a month. We had met a few times before, but this time, something behind his eyes ignited. As soon as I stepped foot onto the set, his eyes traced my body, lingering on my hips and my breasts. After filming had wrapped, he cornered me near the refreshments table, insisting we stop all of this foolishness and just exchange numbers already.
I had no idea when he had begun tapping his fingers onto my phone screen what those digits would be doing to me later.
I turned off the light and exited the bathroom, running with a thud into Yugyeom.
“Ah, noona,” he chirped, not making eye contact.
“Hey Yuggie,” I said softly, plastering on a smile. I pulled my hair around my neck and adjusted Jackson’s tank top fitting loosely on my frame. “How are you?”
“Tired,” he nodded, catching my movement over my neck, but quickly looking away again. “I’ve had a hard time sleeping tonight.”
I nearly choked on my own saliva. Yugyeom was in the bedroom along side the one Jackson and I were in. He was probably sick of hearing the repeated “don’t stop,” “Jackson,” and “Pineapple.”
So we may or may not have had a safe word, okay?
“Oh,” I said slowly. “That’s awful. I’m sorry you can’t sleep.”
“Are you guys making juice or something?” Yugyeom asked, tilting his head after an awkward silence. “I told Jackson to quit making his organic smoothies in the bedroom. It just makes everything sticky.”
“Riiight,” I groaned. “Well try to get some sleep, okay?”
He nodded, giving me a weak smile and went into the bathroom.
I shut my eyes for a moment and shook my head. Poor, sweet baby.
I shuffled back to Jackson’s room and eased into the door.
“Back so soon?” he cooed, patting the mattress beside him. He was lounging in just his underwear, a sly smile on his face.
I smiled as well, hopping over and onto the mattress. I straddled Jackson, leaning back against his legs.
“Hey,” he smiled.
“Hey,” I whispered.
“I think you should come to my photo shoot tomorrow,” he whispered, interlacing our fingers.
My heart stopped. We had never talked about it, but I always assumed our relationship wasn’t terribly much more than sex. We had the occasional coffee date or late night trip to the park, but most of the time, we strictly got down to business.
“What?” I croaked. My head was swimming. Admittedly I was sick of hiding. I was proud of Jackson. I was proud of the marks he had left on my skin and ultimately my heart. I wanted to show off to the world what was mine.
“So it’s at this building in downtown Seoul, and they have these huge offices that no one ever uses that have windows around the entire thing. Wouldn’t it be hot if-” Jackson quickly began, planning out our next risky outing.
So he didn’t want a real relationship.
I was exactly right, we were nothing more than adrenaline filled sex.
I sighed, sliding off of Jackson and plopping alongside him in the bed. I leaned over and began collecting my clothes, trying not to tear up.
“What’s wrong? Did I say something?” he asked, furrowing his brows.
“Yes Jackson, you’ve said a lot,” I muttered.
“Y/N, wait,” Jackson sighed, wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me back toward him. “Talk to me.”
“Oh? You want to talk to me?” I squeaked. “My mouth is good for more than just one thing apparently.”
“Why are you talking like this?” Jackson asked, nuzzling into my neck.
“Because I’m sick of hiding Jackson,” I groaned.
“Hiding?” he asked, still confused.
“Us, what are we even? Just sex?”
“I thought that was what you wanted,” he said quietly.
“You assumed?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. “Don’t get me wrong here, the sex is amazing, but haven’t you ever been sick of hiding our relationship? Even from your members? I mean, for God’s sake, Yugyeom thinks we’re making smoothies in here!”
“Huh? Oh, pineapple,” he chuckled. He rubbed circled into my arm and smiled at me. “We can be more.”
I stopped mid tirade and gave him a careful glance. I was surprised at how easily I was getting my way. “We can?”
“We can,” he smiled. “Nothing would make me happier than being your boyfriend…I just didn’t know it was something you wanted.”
I smiled and began to speak before he cut me off again with a frustrated look.
“But not like a boy who is your friend, but like a boyfriend where the two words aren’t separated by a space…because I don’t want any space to separate us,” he nodded confidently.
I thought my heart was going to melt in my chest. How could someone who was oozing sexiness turn into such a cinnamon roll before my eyes.
“Good,” I whispered, giving up on my fight from his arms and relaxing on him once again. “We just can’t let Yugyeom find out that we aren’t making smoothies in here.”
“Well something’s being pounded…i don’t know if it’s fruit.”
Jumping up at the sound, you try to run out of the room before an angry Bellamy appeared in the doorway.
Bellamy was your roommate and had been for a little over four months now. For some reason, the two of you had never really got on, despite having countless things in common. One of the things that you disliked about your roommate was how snappy and irritated that he got with you. There wasn’t a day that would go by that he wouldn’t make a snide comment or huff when you walked into a room.
He was a nightmare to live with, but the rent was cheap.
Now, by this point you’ve pretty much figured out how to ignore Grumpisorious Bell, but there was a marked difference between regular ‘Grumpy Bell’ and ‘I’m angry as fuck Bell’ and you weren’t much fond of the second one.
So when you hear him sound your name in rage, you attempt to make your escape before he caught you, but just as you were about to run down the stairs, he was running up them.
“Look at what you fucking did!” Bellamy growls, shoving a pink ball into your hands. Looking down, you see that it’s a pair of Bellamy’s boxers.
“Gross, Bellamy! Whatever happened to those, it definitely wasn’t me.” You push the article of clothing into Bellamy’s hands, but he just shoves it against your stomach.
“Look at it, y/n.” He huffs, his face completely serious. Taking another peak at the underwear a sly smile works its way onto your face.
“Pretty panties, Bellamy.” You giggle, handing them back to him while Bellamy grimaces. “I like them, do they come in my size?” You tease him, doing nothing to help him horrid mood.
“You put your fucking red socks in with all the whites and now all my shit is pink.” Bellamy finally clarifies. You pause for a second, blink, and then you burst out laughing so loud that it causes your roommate to jump. Huffing, Bellamy turns away, walking into his bedroom and turning on his iPod to full blast.
Rolling your eyes at his childishness, you climb back down the stairs and check what had gone pink- a few shirts, socks and two more pairs of boxers. Nothing too difficult to replace.
Sighing, you run and get the money you left on the counter to go to buy Bellamy the items that you’d accidentally ruined.
The next morning when Bellamy wakes up and comes downstairs to see a bag full of new white clothes on the kitchen table, he closes his eyes momentarily and wonders how he could be so lucky to have a roommate that puts up with him like you do.