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Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
pairing: jackson wang x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, suggestive dialogue, angst, comfort, aftercare. smut: oral (m and f receiving), fingering, soft dom!jackson, usage of “daddy”, praise kink. kinda turned into mostly porn w/no plot - sry not sry. MDNI, 18+ only
word count: 3.1k
synopsis: the pressure of his new album was getting to him, and the only thing that would calm his frayed nerves was getting a hit of dopamine; precious time with you.
note: trying something new here, so please bear with me while i get my footing. my initial thought was to write one-shots loosely based off of some of the lyrics in jackson's songs that inspire me. however, in falling down the rabbit hole that is pinterest, i have seen so many other pictures of him that are possibly making me want to write other versions of him (husband!jackson? dad!jackson?) not quite sure yet, but i am happy to hear any/all suggestions if you have them! as always, thx for reading :)
Masterlist
Sometime after midnight, you were curled up on the couch, unintentionally passed out while the television screen played some trashy reality show you’d fallen asleep to.
The work week had already been draining, and so after two glasses of red wine and some greasy take out, all you wanted to do was turn your brain off. So much so, you turned off all of the lights in your apartment before collapsing onto the sofa, and shut down your phone.
A few soft, methodical knocks rapped on your front door not far from the living area. Blinking your eyes open slowly, you looked around the room in a daze trying to refamiliarize yourself with where you were when your attention fell back on the quiet noise.
Pushing yourself up lazily from the couch, you adjusted your sleep shorts and tugged down your oversized hoodie as you meandered to the door.
With a quick peek through the peephole, you were surprised to see the visitor just outside. Opening the door quickly, your eyes fell on the slumped over figure of your boyfriend, Jackson, leaning against the doorframe. “Hey…” you murmured quietly, furrowing your brows at the state of him.
Wearing his signature baggy black jeans, black hoodie pulled over his messy hair and chunky black boots, you could barely see his eyes due to the shadow of the hood over them.
“Baby, what are you doing here so late? What time is it anyway?” Your voice was soft, gingerly reaching out to him to pull him inside your apartment.
“Almost 1 AM, sorry, you weren’t answering your phone…” he mumbled, shuffling his feet inside before kicking off his shoes and pulling his hood back. “I just needed to be with you.”
“I… I turned my phone off, I’m the one who is sorry. Didn’t mean to cut you out too,” you apologized, shutting the door softly behind you.
Taking a few steps forward, Jackson lifted his arms to slump around you, burrowing his nose into your neck, breathing you in. Feeling the weight he was carrying, your arms wrapped comfortingly around his midsection.
“Are you ok…?” you whispered into his ear, placing a soft kiss to his temple.
“Yeah… no… I don’t know. Lately I’m so caught up in the moment that I’m forgetting the big picture I think.” He paused, pulling back a little bit to press his forehead against yours with a heavy sigh. “There's so much in my head, can't put it down.”
“Pretty substantial stuff for so late on a Wednesday night,” you tried to tease quietly. Pressing your lips to the tip of his nose, “why don’t you go sit on the couch and I’ll make you some tea?”
Jackson finally lifted his head, making his first real attempt at eye contact with you since he walked in. “There’s just too much on my chest…”
You placed a comforting palm above his heart, nodding empathetically. “Go sit down, baby.”
Turning around, he made his way over to the sofa and leaned back against the cushions, tipping his head against the back while shutting his eyes.
A few minutes later, you came over to sit beside him, handing him a warm mug of green tea. Shifting his eyes back to you, he took the beverage gratefully and took a slow sip before placing it on the coffee table.
Snaking one of your arms around his shoulder, you softly began kneading at his muscles, trying to relax him quietly.
Dipping his head forward with his eyes closed, he sighed gratifyingly, mumbling something about shoulders tight.
“Tell me what’s going on, what’s got you so stressed out?”
“I think it’s the new album, there’s a lot of pressure to get it right. And my team is insistent that I am out there promoting almost every fucking day…” Jackson said, shifting to lean his back against you, silently encouraging you to continue rubbing his shoulders.
“Everything just feels like it’s getting heavy, and I’m not seeing anyone turn on the light at the end of the tunnel…”
Your deft fingers continued to caress his fatigued upper body, pressure changing from light touches to firmer strokes up the column of his neck.
“The initial reactions to Buck are positive though, right?” You murmured quietly, trying to keep the level of your voice calming to match the rhythmic motions of your hands.
“Gratefully,” Jackson agreed, sighing deeply to the feeling of your careful ministrations.
“Be kind to yourself, there’s a lot going on right now and I know it’s got to be so draining but you have to take care of yourself too.” With his head resting back against your shoulder, you placed a feather-light kiss to the top of his hair.
Reaching for one of your hands, Jackson pulled it down to kiss the back of your hand softly before resting it flat on his chest. “Truthfully, I’m here because I was craving some of your care…”
“Oh yeah?” You playfully questioned, curling your fingers into the fabric of his shirt beneath your hand.
Craning to look back up at you, a mischievous glint in his eye becoming apparent in his dark, weary face. “I need a little smoothing out the rough…”
“That so?” Fingernails dragging slowly across his chest, applying just enough pressure to cause his breath to hitch.
Jackson sat up again, moving his back to lean against the couch cushions as he reached out for you, hands gripping your waist in an attempt to coax you into his lap.
“...I want relief I know only you can provide,” he murmured, ghosting his breath over your wanting, parted lips.
“I want to feel your touch…” Jackson whispered against your neck, his hands digging into your thighs as he began rocking you against his growing arousal below you, achingly slow. “I want release…”
With your eyes pinched shut and your head tipped back, you exhaled the sweetest moan as he began trailing the tip of his tongue down the side of your throat. “Jacks…” you whimpered breathlessly, arms wrapped around his shoulders.
One of his hands meandered its way up your back, up to the base of your scalp where his lean digits curled your hair into a makeshift ponytail and gave it a commanding, possessive tug.
With even more of your neck now exposed to him, he sucked at your heated flesh, leaving a deep rouge bruise in his wake, eliciting another desperate whine from you.
The air between you was thick, heady with anticipation and each touch ignited a heated spark between you. “Fuck, I love when you beg for me…” Jackson groaned, nuzzling into you as both of his hands dropped to the bottom of your hoodie, inching it up your otherwise bare hips and waist.
“The noises you make are intoxicating,” he continued, his calloused palm creeping up enough to cup your now exposed breast. “...you’re like a damn drug, one I can’t get enough of.” His expert fingers lightly rolled over your nipple, causing it to harden instinctively under his careful touch.
“It’s like my body just knew where to go to get a fix…” he murmured, dotting kisses along your jaw, up to your mouth, finally melting his lips against yours in a slow, all-consuming manner. “I came here to get some dopamine,” he confessed against your mouth.
“...to get a hit of my favorite addiction,” Jackson paused, leaning back just enough to fully remove the hoodie you were wearing, exposing your chest and upper body to him entirely. Lifting his eyes to yours, wandering hands resting on your warm, flushed skin. “... you.”
The intimacy of his words, so poetic and full of intensity, always did something to you. Your mutual yearning for each other never wavered.
You began rocking your hips on top of him more fervently, applying more direct pressure of your damped heat on top of his erection below which was becoming harder by the second.
Weaving your lips together, you pressed your bare chest against his torso, the flames of your internal fire stoking your hunger for him with every movement.
“Let me take care of you baby…” you hushed against his lips, your fingers now at the bottom of his own sweatshirt, pulling it and the tank below off at a teasingly slow rate, heightening his anticipation.
Raking your fingertips down the expanse of his defined chest muscles and toned torso, thin red lines marking his flesh that would linger as a reminder of your touch, you pushed yourself off of his lap and fell to your knees between his legs.
Jackson stayed quiet while his gaze remained fixed on your face, his lips parted, watching your every move so intently. Though when your fingers reached to the front of his jeans, you heard his sharp inhale when you unbuttoned his pants, and drug the zipper down.
Leaning forward, eyes still locked in on his own, you pressed a soft kiss to the curve of him straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs. Noting the small, growing damp spot near the head of his cock, you couldn’t stop yourself from dragging your tongue against it.
“Fuck,” he exhaled, unable to look away.
Once your fingertips reached the waist of his clothes, Jackson lifted his hips just enough to help you slide everything off, his heavy erection now twitching before you.
Eagerly, you brought your soft palm to the head of his cock, smearing the precum that had collected there to drag down his shaft.
Teasingly, you placed a chaste kiss to the leaking tip of him before dragging your tongue all the way down his hard length and right back up before wrapping your plump lips around him.
Shifting your weight to get more comfortable, you began bobbing your head up and down him languidly, enjoying the sound of his breath getting steadily heavier.
“Shit, my lady looks so pretty with my dick in her mouth…” he cooed, gingerly moving his hand to your forehead to brush away any unruly strands of hair out of your face.
Your cheeks flushed a soft pink at his praises, which only encouraged you to take him further down your throat. Noticing how his words affected you, his hand shifted to the back of your head and helped guide you down as far as you could go, nose pressing into his lower abdomen as a low moan reverberated around his cock.
“Gooood girl,” he purred, holding your head still for a moment. “Such a good fucking girl for me.” Releasing his hold on you, you pulled back off of him completely, gasping for air as a sticky trail of drool connected your lower lip to the head of his dick.
Wrapping his hand around your hair again, not to force you to move, but to hold you close and keep himself grounded, he became mesmerized by the rise and fall of your breasts with your deep inhales.
You’d never felt truly desired before Jackson, and how he looked at you like you hung all of the stars in the sky - cherished, revered, loved.
“So tasty…” you whispered, looking up at him through your eyelashes, bobbing your head back down his flushed cock. “Want to make you feel so good, Daddy.”
“Fuck, you could make it go all night and I’d die a happy man,” Jackson said, his voice gravely, low, hoarse.
Even after years of being together, the pull he had over you was undeniable. The heat of his gaze caused you to press your thighs together, becoming desperate for some sort of friction.
Closing your eyes, you placed one of your hands on the top of his thighs for stability as your free hand snaked down the front of your body and beneath your soaked panties.
Noticing the hitch in your breath, Jackson’s eyes moved down to your hand, unable to see it beneath the waistband of your sleep shorts. Groaning deeply, his hips instinctively lifted, chasing the exquisite feeling of you gagging around him.
“Oh is my girl feeling needy?” he teased, his grip on your hair tightening, thrusting against the back of your throat in slow pumps. “Go on, touch yourself… I know you’ve been waiting for me.”
Jackson’s words of approval made you moan around him, encouraging you to press your middle and index finger against your swollen nub, rubbing small circles against the bundle of nerves.
Pulling your lips off of his cock with a loud pop, you inhaled a sharp intake of breath at the sensation between your legs.
“Fuck,” he whispered, watching your reactions. Bringing his hand to the base of his dick, he began stroking himself with his free hand, his other still tangled in your hair. “Finger yourself, let me hear how wet you are.”
“Yes Daddy,” you whined, dipping the same two fingers down your slit and into your throbbing pussy. Building a slow rhythm, you pressed the heel of your palm against your clit as a wet, squelching sound could be heard from between your thighs.
Leaning forward again, you dipped your head between his muscular legs and dragged your tongue flat against one of his balls. Hissing at the sudden feeling of your wet, warm breath, Jackson began twisting his hand faster up and down his length.
Sucking one of them into your mouth, you twirled the tip of your tongue around the delicate flesh, unable to help your moaning.
The feeling of your vibrations against his most sensitive area caused his grip in your hair to tighten, and he held your head closer against his body, writhing against you as his speed on his cock became erratic.
“Such a filthy little girl for me, drooling all over me like you can’t get enough… you like it when you’ve got Daddy’s balls in your mouth, don’t you?”
Nodding frantically, you let go of one and switched to the other, swirling your tongue around it as your fingers buried in your cunt increased their momentum.
“You gonna cum from just your fingers, sweet girl?” He asked, almost more demanded. “Put your mouth back on my cock, you better suck Daddy dry before you fucking cum.”
The switch of his tone from soft and gentle to harsh and domineering was dizzying. Doing as he demanded though, you took your place back higher on your knees, taking the length of his pulsing cock deep in the back of your mouth once again.
The sensations of Jackson fucking up into your mouth and the sloppy sound of your fingers moving in and out of your slick was becoming too much.
Digging your fingernails into his thigh, grasping on for purchase, you began rubbing the palm of your hand more fervently against your clit, chasing your eminent release.
Unable to speak with him so deep down your throat, you hallowed your cheeks and hummed a moan against him, doing all you could to push him over his looming edge.
“Gonna fucking cum princess…” he grunted out, holding your head against him as he bucked up into your mouth once, twice. Tipping his head back, he left out a filthy, load moan as you felt his warm, sticky seed coating the back of your throat.
Between the addictive sounds of his climax, the tangy taste of him on the back of your tongue, and the walls of your pussy fluttering around your fingers, you were so close.
Jackson pulled himself out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath as you so desperately tried to push yourself over the edge.
Regaining his senses, he saw you struggling before him and without any warning, pushed you back onto the floor and ripped your shorts off your legs.
Pulling your hand away from yourself and letting him manhandle you, you laid back flat against the carpet as Jackson pulled your legs over both of his shoulders and buried his face into your pussy.
“Oh my God, fuck fuck…” you cried, lifting your head just enough to watch him pull your clit between his lips and began sucking.
Bringing one of his large hands between your thighs, he slipped two of his fingers into your slick walls, already so wet for him. Curling them just right, and flicking his tongue against your sensitive nub, you started trembling under his touch.
“Gonna c-cum… Daddy please let me cum,” you begged, your fingers finding the back of his head for stability. Groaning against you, he demanded with one simple word. “Cum.”
With his command, the pressure of his fingertips against that sweet spot deep inside you and his skillful tongue, you came hard, involuntarily grinding against his face.
Jackson left his fingers still, buried inside you, and placed soft kisses against your clit as your body convulsed under the aftershocks of your intense release.
Gently, he released your legs back to the ground, soothingly massaging the tops of your thighs as you tried to catch your breath. First licking his lips, he brought the back of one of his hands to wipe the remnants of your arousal from his mouth and leaned up to grab the blanket off the back of the couch.
Laying down beside you, Jackson draped the blanket over both of your naked bodies. Shifting so he was hovering halfway over you, he brought a hand up to brush the damp strands of hair away from your face and leaned in to kiss you gently.
“You ok?” He asked, barely above a whisper. With a simple nod of your head, you turned to nuzzle into his neck, taking a deep breath. “I was supposed to be the one taking care of you tonight,” you mumbled.
“Just being here, you telling me sweet nothings…” he paused, pressing his lips to the top of your head, “you got me all right.”
You hummed softly, wrapping an arm around his waist and tangling your legs between his. “Really was just trying to be an ear for you to vent to, a shoulder to lean on.”
Jackson laughed low, “ain’t no time for talking when we’re tongue-tied.”
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The night air feels thick. The windows are cracked open, letting the breeze slip into the car. City lights blur past like lazy brushstrokes, but all you can feel is the weight of Sunghoon’s gaze flicking between you and the road.
You try not to squirm in your seat, fingers gripping the hem of your skirt. It’s been like this for weeks — this weird, heavy tension hanging in the air whenever you're alone with him.
It’s not like you planned to fall for your best friend’s brother. You knew Sunghoon before he even got his license, back when his hair was too long and he barely talked. But somewhere between then and now, he grew into... well, him. The same sharp jawline, same stupid little eye smile — but everything about him feels different now. More careful. More... intense.
“Why’re you so quiet?” Sunghoon’s voice breaks through the hum of the radio. His fingers drum lazily against the steering wheel.
You force a shrug, pretending like your heart isn't doing that weird stuttery thing in your chest.
“Just tired.”
“Liar.”
You glance at him, but he's already smirking. He knows you too well. You hate that about him.
Sunghoon shifts in his seat, hand reaching down to mess with the AC. The air gets cooler, but your face feels hotter.
His fingers brush against your knee. Barely. Almost like an accident.
But you know better.
Your breath catches, eyes snapping to him, but he just keeps driving — like he didn't just short-circuit your whole nervous system with a single touch.
"You always get quiet when you're nervous," he says casually, like he's not absolutely wrecking you right now.
"I'm not nervous."
"Sure."
You want to punch him. You want to kiss him. You don't know which one would ruin your life more.
The car slows at a red light, bathing the inside in soft, red glow. Sunghoon's fingers trail up — slow, deliberate — brushing against the edge of your thigh.
Your heart is pounding.
"You should stop doing that," you mumble, eyes locked on the windshield.
"Doing what?"
"You know what."
There's a beat of silence — and then you feel him lean in. Just a little. Close enough that his breath warms the shell of your ear.
"Why?"
You hate him. You really, really hate him.
The light turns green. He doesn't move away.
"I thought you were tired," he teases, voice lower now — almost lazy. Like he knows exactly what he's doing to you.
"I am."
"Liar."
You squeeze your thighs together. He definitely saw that. His smirk twitches wider, but he finally pulls back, like he's sparing you.
The rest of the drive is quiet — except it's not. The whole car feels heavy with unsaid things. The kind of silence that feels louder than anything.
When he finally pulls into your driveway, you're halfway out of the car before he can even kill the engine. But Sunghoon moves fast. His fingers wrap around your wrist, gentle but firm.
"Wait."
You freeze.
His eyes flick down — to your lips, then back up — like he's fighting himself.
You feel like you can't breathe.
"I... probably shouldn't like you this much," he murmurs, almost to himself.
Your heart lurches.
"You like me?"
His grip on your wrist tightens, just barely.
"I've liked you since you started stealing my hoodies."
Your whole brain short-circuits. Because... yeah. Maybe you've been doing that.
"I didn't think you'd notice."
"I always notice you."
You swear the whole world tilts a little.
His thumb brushes against your pulse, slow and steady — like he's memorizing the way you're falling apart under his touch.
"Sunghoon..."
He leans in — close enough that you can smell his stupid cologne. Close enough that all you have to do is tilt your chin up and he'd be kissing you.
"Tell me to stop."
You can't. You really, really can't.
So you don't.
Instead, your fingers curl into the collar of his jacket, pulling him in the rest of the way. His lips slot against yours like they were always supposed to be there — soft and warm and so painfully slow.
It's not a perfect kiss. Your teeth knock, and you're pretty sure you're shaking, but none of that matters.
Because the second his hand slides to the back of your neck, tilting your head just right — you're gone. Completely, hopelessly gone.
He pulls back just enough to breathe, forehead resting against yours.
"You always get quiet when you're nervous," he whispers again, smug as hell.
You flick him on the forehead.
"Shut up."
His grin stretches wide — bunny teeth and everything — and you realize you're so, so screwed.