IN WHICH : You have been taking piano lessons with Mr. Lee for months. What began as an innocent hobby quickly turns into an intense, mutual attraction, until the tension finally breaks during a lesson
⚠︎ WARNINGS : explicit content - smut (mdni) including: teacher/student, age gap (not specified), fingering, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, riding, dirty talk, praise kink, light spanking, hickeys/marking, nipple play, nicknames (sweetheart, baby, good girl)
You have been taking piano lessons with Mr. Lee for months. What started as an innocent attempt to pick up a new hobby to relieve stress has slowly turned into something else. Now you attend every class just to see him.
The tension between you has been building day after day. It began with lingering glances across the piano. Then came the gentle touches of his hands when he adjusted your fingers on the keys. And God, his hands were large and veined, you often find yourself staring at his long fingers, imagining how they would feel somewhere else.
He catches himself staring at your lips every time you bite them in concentration. He also notices how carefully you dress for his classes, in those dresses that expose your collarbone and the delicate curve of your breasts, or in those tiny skirts that let him glimpse the lace of your panties.
You both know this is wrong. After all, he is your teacher, older, more experienced. And you are his student, younger, but not entirely innocent.
One afternoon, the air feels heavier than ever. You arrive wearing a tight white dress that clings to your body. He is certain you bought it two sizes too small because the hem barely reaches the middle of your thighs, and your breasts look like they might spill out at any moment.
You are working on chopin's nocturne in e-flat major. Every time you stumble on a complex note, he moves closer.
"Feel it, don't rush." He murmurs, stopping right behind you. You can feel the warmth of his body against your back and smell his masculine cologne.
You turn your head slightly, your faces are only inches apart. His gaze instantly drops to your lips before he suddenly steps back. "Try again."
When the piece finally ends, a heavy silence fills the room. You are aching for him to do something, because you can already feel the wetness between your thighs, your pussy throbbing with need. "Mr. Lee..."
"Heeseung." He corrects quickly, his hands resting on your shoulders. "You've improved so much. But today you're... distracted."
"So are you." You whisper. He squeezes your shoulders harder and lets out a slow breath, as if he is finally surrendering to a fight he knows he cannot win.
"Stand up." You obey, turning around to face him on trembling legs.
He cups your face with one hand and gently brushes his thumb across your lower lip. Your eyes close, waiting for the kiss you've been craving, but then he whispers. "We shouldn't... this is reckless."
Your eyes snap open, your cheeks burning. "I know, but I can't stop thinking about you. Every day, in every lesson."
His eyes travel slowly down your body, taking in your breasts straining against the tight dress and your soft thighs. His cock throbs inside his pants. He is a man who has been fighting this for months, but the way you are looking at him now is too much.
He cups your face with both hands, gently stroking your cheeks. "If we do this, I need you to be sure."
"I'm sure, Heeseung. Please." you whisper.
The sound of his name leaving your lips without formality breaks him. "I'll stop the moment you want me to, sweetheart."
He pulls you into a deep, hungry kiss filled with months of repressed desire. You gasp against his mouth as he effortlessly lifts you onto the lid of the piano.
The kiss only breaks when you are both breathless. But Heeseung doesn't stop. He trails his lips down your neck, sucking and nibbling on your skin to leave marks.
"You have no idea how long I've wanted to taste you." He growls, gently biting the sensitive spot on your neck. "My pretty girl, sitting here every in that little dress, driving me fucking insane."
His hand slides up your thigh, pushing your dress higher until he reaches your panties, tracing the soaked fabric between your legs.
"You're soaked already." He smiles proudly and pulls your panties aside, stroking your folds and circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp.
Then his mouth crashes against yours again, tongues tangling obscenely as he slides two fingers inside you. He swallows your moans, claiming your mouth. "Stay quiet for me, baby."
He drops to his knees in front of you and spreads your thighs wide. The sight of your hot professor kneeling between your legs makes your mind hazy and your pussy clench. He pulls your panties down, pockets them, and buries his face between your legs. "Oh God- Heeseung..."
His tongue gives long, hungry licks along your folds before sucking hard on your swollen clit. At the same time, he pushes two fingers back inside you, curling them against that sensitive spot. "Fuck, you're so sweet."
His fingers pump in and out of you while his tongue circles and sucks your clit. "This pretty little pussy is already soaked for me."
He eats you like a man starved, making your thighs shake around his head and your hips grind against his face. "That's it, baby, ride my tongue. Let me hear those pretty sounds."
He keeps going until you come hard with a loud moan. Only then does he pull back with a wicked smile and kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. "Good girl. You did so well for me."
Still trembling, you reach for his belt, freeing his long, hard cock. The tip glistens with precum, making your mouth waters. You wrap your hand around the warm, heavy length and slowly stroke him. "Turn around for me, sweetheart. Bend over the piano like I've imagined a hundred times."
He guides you, bending you over the piano until your breasts are pressed against the cold wood. He pushes your dress up to your waist, fully exposing your ass.
"Fuck, look at you..." He runs his hand over the curve of your ass and squeezes one cheek hard, making you whimper. "Bent over my piano like a dirty little slut for your teacher. So beautiful it hurts."
He gives your ass a sharp slap, watching it jiggle, then he grabs the base of his cock and rubs the head against your slick folds. "I'm going to fuck you so deep you'll feel me for days."
He pushes in slowly, inch by inch, letting you feel every vein. He is big, almost too big, but the stretch burns in the most delicious way. When he finally bottoms out, you feel completely full. "So tight... My good girl's pussy is taking my cock so well."
He stays still at first, letting you adjust to his size. “You okay, baby?"
You open your mouth but only a shaky, pathetic sigh comes out, so you nod frantically, but it's not enough for him.
Smack!
The loud sound echoes through the room. Your ass stings, making you cry out. "Yes! I'm okay, please move."
He starts slow, pulling back until only the tip remains inside, then thrusting hard. The piano resonates with every powerful stroke. Soon his pace becomes faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixed with your moans and his filthy praises.
"That's it, take it." He leans over you, pressing his chest against your back. "This tight cunt was made for me. You've been teasing me for months while I tried to be a gentleman. Now you're bent over my piano like a dirty little slut for me."
His dirty words make you clench around him. "I can feel you everywhere inside me, oh my god-”
He laughs mockingly and pinches your clit. "Yeah? Then cum on my cock, I want to feel you milking me."
You come hard for the second time, moaning his name. He keeps fucking you through your orgasm until he finally buries himself deep and fills you with his hot, thick cum.
He stays inside you, making sure not a single drop is wasted, while kissing your shoulder and gently stroking your back. “Can you give me one more, baby? I want to watch you ride me.”
“Yes, please, Heeseung. I want it." You whisper breathlessly.
He sits on the piano bench and pulls you onto his lap. You sink down onto his cock and begin rolling your hips, riding him slowly at first. “You feel so good, baby."
He lets you set the pace while he finally pulls your dress off and throws it aside. Your breasts are finally free. He takes one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive peak.
You move faster, holding onto his shoulders for balance, your clit rubbing against him every time you take him deep. "Hee- that feels so good."
He releases your nipple with a wet pop, but his hand keeps kneading and pinching the other one. "You're so wet and sloppy. I can feel my cum leaking down my balls, baby."
The pressure in your belly builds until your body starts shaking uncontrollably. Your movements lose rhythm, but he grips your hips and helps you keep going. "I'm going to cum inside you one more time. I want to fill this sweet cunt until it's overflowing."
You cum first, falling apart in his arms. He holds you tight, thrusting up into you through your orgasm until he follows right after, groaning in satisfaction as he fills you again.
"You were perfect." He whispers, kissing your forehead tenderly. "Are you okay, baby? Any soreness?
You shake your head, smiling at the softness in his voice. "I'm great."
He smiles and gently runs his fingers through your messy hair. "Good, because these lessons are going to be very different from now on."
𓂃
NOTE : english is not my first language, please let me know if there are any typos!
best friends who share everything… including their side chick.
𓊆박성훈 & 심재윤& 박종성 x fem reader𓊇 baby, is it me or are you doing something to me? when you smile, it’s shining, but for some reason, you’re lying inside. dangerously, you’re beautiful. you slowly came to me, my dilemma like a habit. ─ baby don't like it, nct127 ⫶ 𐔌masterlist꒱
𓆩♡𓆪 wow hi :< it's been a minute since i wrote + something so long + smut?! + foursome?!?!?! ... i'm super sorry in advance if this is so shit because yk i don't reread my smut and this is genuinely just 10k of filth hahsheahs and i miss u guys so much kisses kisses kisses :x
word count 10k
content advisory heavy infidelity/cheating, lowkey polyamory? possessiveness, side chick, jay is a football player, jake is a nerd, toxic relationship, moral ambiguity, hoes before bros or whatever, no one's a good person here, mentioned of underage drinking (1), kinda sunghoon biased i'm so sorry, non proofread!
smut advisory foursome (fmmm), very nasty mayne, different sex scenes, squirt, fingering, cum stuffing, oral, fellatio, pussy licking/sucking, lots of making out jesus, dirty talk, profanity, locker room fucking, creampie, cumshot, tit play, jake's in love with your tits and sunghoon can't stop kissing you, flirting, jay's gentler than the others, jake is lowkey a softdom/sub, sunghoon's a hard-dom and mean, use of slut, whore, cumdump etc. doggy style, side-fucking, missionary, creampie after creampie, car sex, hotel sex... might miss out some but pls.
growing up as a trio—jake, sunghoon, and jay always, and always made sure that no secrets are kept from one another. from highschool, and attending the same college, they stuck together like glue—rooming in the same dorm block, sharing the same late–night runs, copying each other’s work despite not taking the same major but shared classes.
they called themselves 02z (and sunghoon always thought that it was corny) and no matter what happened, the rule was simple: no secrets. everything got laid out on the table—the good, the bad, the ugly, and the embarrassing.
and they’d proven it time and time again.
like the time jake got stupidly drunk at a house party at the age of seventeen, and jay had to haul his half–conscious ass back through the window of his bedroom while sunghoon knocked on the front door and entertained jake’s father from finding out.
or the time jay accidentally broke the school’s window and to prevent him from getting suspended and kicked out of the football team, jake stepped forward and took the blame—”i threw it too hard to impress a girl, sorry.” he flashed that innocent puppy smile and accepted the week’s detention without complaint. jay never forgot it and paid him back by covering his shifts for two whole weeks.
but the real payment was the tighter bond between them.
“ride or die,” sunghoon had said once. and in a world where friendships were shallow and people stabbed each other in the back, the three of them were unbreakable. like a stream of water, it cannot be cut—
but even the strongest stream can be diverted when the faucet is turned.
——
funny enough—the first time jay saw you was during one of his football friendly matches.
it was a casual friday afternoon game, nothing serious, just the medic faculty versus the business for bragging rights and free drinks afterward. jay was on the field in his number 99 jersey, sweat already soaking the back of his neck under the orange sun.
his girlfriend, minji, was sitting in the small bleachers with a couple of her friends, waving at him every time he glanced her way. he’d blown her a kiss before the whistle, the perfect boyfriend move that made his teammates tease him later.
and you weren’t even supposed to be there for him.
you were merely just a friend with one of the strikers in his team—and had come along because he (martin) had begged you to at least pretend to cheer so he doesn’t look like a loser. you sat on the grass near the sidelines, knees pulled up in those pretty shorts and prettier top.
you weren’t attention seeking or loud, but jay found his eyes travelling to you more often than he’d like to. light, genuine laughter that cut through the noise of the field and scored him square in the chest. he almost lost the ball.
and if it wasn’t after the match that everyone gathered near the benches to talk about what happened and martin pulled you in to join the conversation. you, being youself—ever so friendly and talkative you, even prettier up close and funnier than most girls he know—chatted with the rest of the boys like you’d known them for months.
jay stood there, still catching his breath, tower slung over his shoulder, watching you. the conversation flowed naturally and he found himself grinning wider than he should, eyes lingering on the way your lips curved when you smiled.
“you played so well. even if your team totally got lucky on that last goal,” you commented, casually sitting next to jay on the bench. jay laughed, humming. “yeah? that never happened by the way—so it was probably your luck.”
you raised an eyebrow, amused, turning your body slightly toward him. “you think so?”
the way you said it made something in his chest tighten in the best way possible. most girls would either just giggle or try too hard, but you looked like you were genuinely enjoying the back–and–forth.
he leaned back on the bench, resting his elbows behind him. his jersey clung to his chest, damp with sweat, but neither of you care. for once, he was grateful his girlfriend wasn’t around.
“maybe,” he replied, that smirk tugging at his lips. “or maybe you’re bad luck for the other team. every time you cheered us, their defense fell apart. i saw it.”
you let out the laugh that got him almost distracted on the field earlier—and shook your head. “you’re so smooth, jay. do you use that line on every girl who watches your game?”
uh, oh.
his smirk faltered for half a second. he let out a quick, awkward laugh and rubbed the back of his neck to play it cool. “of course not,” he said, chuckling a little too loudly. “that would be way too cheesy. i swear i’m not that kind of guy.”
you tilted your head, studying him with glint in your eyes. then, casually, almost too casually, you dropped it—
“i thought so! you kept blowing kisses to a girl earlier. i saw it.”
jay went quiet.
the easy smile on his face froze. his fingers tightened slightly around his water bottle as the words landed. he swore—he swore—he didn’t mean to come off as flirty or anything, but it just… came out naturally.
like it was just you.
for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. he hadn’t even realised you’d noticed that.
“yeah, well…” he started, voice trailing off. he looked away for a second, heartbeat drumming fast, searching for the right words that wouldn’t make him sound like a complete asshole.
before he could finish, you broke into a soft giggle and waved your hand lightly in front of him. “i’m just joking, hehe,” you said, mischievous. “relax. you don’t have to look so guilty.”
jay let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, the tension in his shoulder easing as he laughed along. you were teasing him, but the way you said it so playfully made his tummy flip.
he finally met your eyes, watching the way your lips curved when you smiled like that. relax. you don’t have to look so guilty. then, before he could talk himself out of it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and held it out to you.
“put your number in,” he said, smoother and calmer now. “next time we play, you could be our lucky charm again.”
you’re not stupid. if anything, martin would’ve invited you to the next matches anyway. but you took the phone anyway—fingers brushed against his. you saved yourself as yn, followed with a little soccer ball emoji and handed it back.
“don’t blow me kisses though,” you teased lightly as you stood up, brushing invisible dust from your shorts.
jay watched your back as you walked away, phone warm in his hand, your contact staring back at him. it’s harmless—it’s just a number and you’re just a girl who was easy and fun to talk to.
but the further you got from him, the more it’s clear to jay that he was going to text you tonight.
and the first turn of the faucet happened—quietly, and completely without anyone knowing, not even jay himself.
——
“oh my gosh, my player,” you moaned sensually, tipping your head back as jay lifted you up around his waist with ease.
his strong hands gripped the back of your thighs, fingers digging into your soft skin as he pressed you against the cool metal locker. the contrast between the cold surface on your back and the heat of his body made you shiver.
jay’s mouth was on yours instantly—hungry, deep, messy, and horny. he kissed you like he’d been starving from it since the first whistle was blown, tongue sliding against yours while low groans rumbled deep from his chest.
“fuck baby, you feel so good like this,” he rasped between kisses, grinding his hard cock against your bare pussy. the thin fabric of his shorts was the only thing separating you, and you could feel every inch of him throbbing, already leaking like a little boy for you.
“my little reward.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers threading through his damp hair as you rocked your hips against him, chasing the friction. “hngh—you did so well… how are you so good at everything?” another sensual moan slipped from your lips when he shifted and rubbed the head of his cock against your swollen clit.
“am i?” his lips trailed down your jaw to your neck, sucking and biting lightly, leaving faint marks he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t stop himself from making. one hand stayed under your thigh, holding you up effortlessly, while the other squeezed your tit, thumb flicking over your perky nipple until you whimpered.
“look at you,” he murmured against your skin, voice hoarse with list. “so fucking wet and ready for me after i won. you like being my secret celebration, baby?”
you nodded eagerly, pussy twitching and clenching around nothing but the idea of jay’s thick cock inside. sensing that—he pulled his shorts down just enough to free his cock, thick and heavy, tip glistening with a bead of precum.
“i want you—fuck me, please,” you cry out, leaning to kiss him.
without another word, jay lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust—stretching you open, filling you completely. a broken moan tore from your throat as he bottomed out, walls clenching tight around him. the guy buried his face in your neck, groaning loudly at how perfectly you took him.
“shit… so tight,” he breathed, staying still to let you adjust—but not for long before he started moving, sensual, deep rolls of his hips that dragged his cock against every sensitive spot. “oh god, yesyesyes, just like that,”
the locker rattled with every thrust. your legs tightened around his waist, heels dragging into his lower back as he fucked you against the cool metal, mouth never leaving your skin. he kissed, licked, and sucked at your neck and collarbone while his pace gradually picked up, turning deeper and harder.
“mine tonight,” he whispered roughly, one hand slipping between your bodies to rub tight circles on your wet, sensitive clit. you moaned louder, bud ticklish and feeling like you were going to squirt—which you did, just seconds after.
jay’s so good and gentle with how he’s treating you it’s making your chest flutter. “yours, jay, yours,” you gasped as the head of his cock knocked against your cervix—jerking your body upwards with each pound.
“my pretty little trophy… taking my cock so well after the game.”
your moans grew louder, more desperate, echoing softly in the empty, locked, locker room as he drove into you again and again and again—sensual, hot, sinful, and so fucking good.
jay’s breathing turned ragged, forehead pressed to yours as he chased both your highs, the wet slap of your skin and your shared gasps filling the air. the player ended up cumming—shooting ropes and ropes of warm jizz on your pretty little face, landing some on your head.
seeing how well you’re cleaning his cock—jay realised he was far from done with you.
——
for sim jaeyun, everything had its place, neatly stacked in order of importance.
first came his family—always. then his friends (sunghoon and jay at top, then the rest of the people he knows). layla, his border collie, squeezed into that top tier too. studies came strongly after that because he believed it’s 100% his future—
and finally, only then—way down the list—came fun.
and fun included his girlfriend, chloe. she was sweet, understanding, and never complained when he told her he had to study late or hang out with the boys. jake liked that about her—she knew her place in his priorities, and she respected it.
he never meant to rearrange that list.
“sorry we can’t do this at my apartment,” jake said, rubbing the back of his neck. “my girlfriend’s been staying over a lot lately and… yeah. i didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
you and jake shared multiple classes since the start of the semester, sitting in the same lecture halls but he’d never really talked to you. not until the professor paired you two together for a major project that counted half of the final grade.
now here you were—tucked away in a quiet, secluded corner of the library on the third floor. jake sat across from you, laptop open, highlighter between his teeth as he scribbled notes. you leaned back in your chair, legs crossed, a small knowing smile playing on your lips.
unlike the easy friendliness you’d shown jay, something about jake brought out a slightly different side of you—a bit more teasing, more… dominant? like you enjoyed watching the good boy squirm a little.
“that’s okay, jakey,” you replied, tilting your head, eyes locked onto his. “anywhere is fine at least we get it done, right?”
jake blinked, caught off guard by the nickname but didn’t comment on it. his cheeks warmed slightly, but he laughed it off. “yeah… exactly. studies first, you know? gotta keep priorities straight.”
you hummed, leaning forward on your elbow, chin resting on your hand as you watched him. jake had to do everything just from glancing at your cleavage sticking out from your shirt. the way your gaze lingered made the air between you feel a little heavier, more intimate—and jake figured this was why most girls wouldn’t want their boyfriends around a girl.
a pretty one at that too.
“that’s good. keeping everything in order like that, hehe.”
the words slipped out casually but jake’s ears turned pink anyway. he shifted in his seat, suddenly hyper–aware of how secluded this corner was—no one could really see the two of you back here.
he tried to steer the conversation back to the project, pointing at the screen as you scooted closer beside him. “so… for this second, i was thinking we could—”
“oh—you typed quantitative wrong here—”
you leaned in and pointed at the typo on his laptop screen. in the process, your chest brushed against his arm, soft and warm through your thin top that jake swore he felt the sponge of your bra.
jake froze.
his breath hitched, eyes widening for a split second as he felt the brief press of your chest against his bicep. a rush of heat shot straight through him and you felt the way he tensed up.
“oh—shit, sorry,” you said quickly, pulling back a little, though your voice didn’t sound even an ounce of guilt if he was being honest. “didn’t mean to interrupt you like that.”
his mouth went dry. he could still feel the ghost of the touch on his arm, and his brain was suddenly struggling to form normal sentences. “n—no, it’s okay,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, cheeks now matching the pink of his ears.
“don’t worry about it.”
you bit your lip to hide a small smile, watching the way composed jake was suddenly flustered. the good boy who kept his priorities straight was starting to crack a little. instead of moving back, you stayed right where you were—shoulders almost touching his, close enough that your perfume filled his nostrils.
you pointed at the screen again, this time more carefully, your nails tapping on the lcd. your voice dropped softer, with a hint of light dominant slipping through.
“see? right here. fix it, jakey.”
jake swallowed hard, nodding quickly as his fingers moved to the keyboard. but it was hard to focus on the project anymore—not when every time you shifted even slightly, he became hyper–aware of how close you were, and how dangerous his mind was playing at.
that damn cleavage and top.
maybe it was because jake met you during one of his ‘studying’ sessions, but you were quick to climb up his carefully built hierarchy. just like jay, you were easy to talk to, quick with your thoughts, and somehow jake liked… being told what to do. shamelessly.
“you’re so good at this,” you hummed softly, scooting your chair just a tiny bit closer until your knee brushed his under the table. “what’s something you’re not good at?”
you meant the project—but you also knew men like jake would divert the meaning elsewhere. something jake’s not good at is probably standing on his morals and keeping his priorities straight.
not when he’s easily swayed like this.
——
just two months after that, jake’s stacked priorities crumbled.
parked in a quiet, dimly lit corner of the campus parking lot at 11:49 p.m., the backseat of his car fogged up. he had a chemistry exam the next day—yet here he was.
“jakey…” you whispered against his mouth, voice low and teasing as you cupped his cheeks, fingers tapping against his skin. “you’re thinking too much again.” you continued, straddling his lap and brushing your lips against his.
“it’s late…” he breathed, even as his hands gripped your waist tighter, pulling you down harder against the obvious bulge in his jeans. “test t’morrow… chloe… fuck, this is so wrong.”
you pouted playfully, rolling your hips and grinding against him in the meantime. “but you’ll ace the test tomorrow anyway, why bother?” you hummed, pressing your lips against him. jake groaned, head falling back against the seat. you purposely ignored the latter problem.
his morals screamed at him, but his body betrayed him completely.
clothes were pushed aside rather than fully removed—your skirt flipped up, panties pulled to the side, his jeans shoved down just enough. he had you on all fours, exactly how he liked it best: doggy style.
as all up for him to watch as it jiggles—yeah, fuck yeah. jake’s hands gripped your hips tightly as he pushed into you from behind in one, full, deep thrust—instantly burying himself deep with a broken moan.
“shit—you feel so good, yn,” he gasped, forehead pressing between your shoulder blades for a second. the angle was beyond perfect—the cramped car, and your tight, wet, cunt while being so deep he could feel every clench around him.
“uh huh? what else?”
he started moving, savouring the way your back arched for him, the way you pushed back to meet every thrust, the way your ass jiggled when his pelvis slapped ‘em. “so tight, your pussy’s so tight, yn,” he rasped, picking up his pace. jake’s hips snapped harder, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the space of the car. “i love it—love your pussy,”
jake’s cock was probably the longest you’ve had, reaching so deep your fingers, toys, and other boys had never been able to. “oh god, jakey, you’re so good,” you moaned aloud, palms flat against the fogged window.
“you’re ruining me,” jake groaned, one hand sliding up to push you down lower, chest pressed against the seat while your ass stayed up for him. “can’t stop thinkin’ about this—about you.”
his balls slapped against your wet pussy, dragging you velvet walls with each time he pulled out. you moaned sensually, gripping the edge of the seat as he fucked you faster, coming close. “then don’t stop, just do me all the time.”
that pushed him over the edge.
the boy’s grip tightened. he pulled you back onto his cock, deep with every thrust. the car rocked with his movements. “fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, sweat dripping down his temple, morals completely shattered as he took you exactly how he loved—deep, rough, playful.
“want your cum, gosh—fuck, cum all over me,” you gasped, saliva leaking out from the edge of your mouth. your pussy squelched with every thrust, juices splattering on the leather seat. what a shame to the girlfriend, really.
he leaned over you, one arm wrapped around your waist while the other braced beside your head, pounding into you harder as he began chasing his end. “shouldn’t… i really shouldn’t…” he groaned, voice strained and broken.
“c’mon, be a good boy—give it to me, cumcumcum,”
the praise pushed him over—with a final moan, jake pulled out of your dripping pussy. he flipped you onto your back in one motion, trapping you between his knees. his hand pumped his slick, wet cock furiously, eyes dark and wild as he hovered above you.
you looked up at him with a teasing glint in your eyes—lips parted, chest heaving, already arching your back and pushing your tits together for him. his abs tensed, jaw clenched tight.
“shit—i’m cumming—!”
thick liquidity, warm ropes of cum shot across your chest in messy spurts, painting your tits and collarbones white. some landed right on your nipple, dripping slowly down the curve which only caused jake to cum some more.
fuck, that’s so fucking hot—he thought, swallowing the lump in his throat as he kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop until his cock twitched empty and his whole body shuddered.
you licked around your lips, smearing jake’s cum all over your pretty tits. it looked like you were lactating his cum.
“fuck… am i good enough, yn?” he murmured, chest heaving. “look at what you do to me.”
——
saturday night and sunghoon’s at a popular off–campus club with a group of his classmates. while he’s not much of a party guy, he came because one of them kept dragging him anyway, and he knew he couldn’t keep rejecting their advances for so long.
he’s sitting in the booth area, nursing drunks, bored, and detached while everyone else is loud and drunk. sunghoon doesn’t dance. doesn’t flirt. just watch.
that’s when he saw you.
you’re on the dance floor with your girlfriends, just being effortlessly sexy and attractive—the way your body swayed, hair sticking on your neck from the heat, the same curve of your smile that jay was starstrucked with.
and that damn black dress that hugged your curves just right.
sunghoon’s eyes locked on you instantly, he didn't smile when your eyes met his as well across the floor—just watching. instead of looking away shyly, you held his gaze for a few seconds, then your eyes travelled from the top of his head down to his shoes, and gave him a slow smile before turning back to your friends.
that was all it took for him.
sunghoon stood up, leaving his classmates’ drinks and stuffs on the table, and walked straight onto the crowd. he didn’t say anything at first—just slid in behind you, one hand slightly resting on your waist as he spun you around to meet him.
“hey,” he murmured, tall frame towering over you. “what’s that about?”
you tilted your head slightly, a playful, faux innocence smile playing on your lips. “what’s what about?”
his eyebrows furrowed just a fraction, but the corner of his mouth twitched—the tiniest hint of amusement and a thought of, wow, the audacity. his hand stayed on your waist, thumb pressing lightly into the fabric of your dress, holding you in place.
“that look you gave me,” he said, shrugging. “are you daring me?”
you let out a soft laugh that almost sounded like a scoff, eyes sparkling and laced with a kind of bratness that he never knew he was into. you didn’t pull away but instead stepped a little closer, letting your chest brush against his as you looked up at him through your lashes.
“and if i am?” you replied, sweetly. “what are you gonna do about it?”
morality had always been quite a blur to sunghoon.
he never lost sleep over it but rules, right and wrong, loyalty—they were just concepts that applied to other people. as long as it didn’t affect his image or his life or his close circle greatly, he didn’t care enough to draw hard lines.
and tonight, those blurry lines had just walked out of the club with him.
sunghoon didn’t say much as he guided you toward his black sedan by holding your hand in his. you glanced up at him, still wearing that same little smile. “you always drag girls out of clubs without asking their name?”
he unlocked the car with a soft beep and opened the front door for you. his eyes met yours—completely unbothered. “sunghoon,” he said simply. “and i don’t bring girls out anywhere.”
you let out a hum, but still slid into the front seat without hesitation. he followed right after, closing the door behind him. the inside of his car smelled strongly of his cologne, and as he started the engine, he didn’t bother with small talks. didn’t ask where you lived, nor did he offer to take you home.
sunghoon pulled out of the parking lot and drove toward the city centre with his one hand occasionally brushing your thigh. you watched the streetlights flicker across his jawline and the way his expression said nothing eventhough the tension between you two in the car reeked with want.
“so… where are we going?”
“a hotel. closer than my place.”
——
the door had barely clicked shut before sunghoon had you pressed against the wall, mouth crashing into yours in a deep. hungry kiss. there was nothing gentle about it—his lips moved against yours with need, tongue sliding in immediately to taste you as one hand gripped your jaw, and the other pressed on your hip.
and you—you kissed him back just as greedily, fingers digging into his shoulders, tugging at his shirt like you wanted it off yesterday. “ngh—hngh,” you moaned into his mouth, tongue intertwining and sucking on one another.
sunghoon broke the kiss only long enough to pull your dress up and over your head at once, letting it drop to the floor. his hands were on you instantly—squeezing your tits, sliding down to grip your ass, yanking you flush against him so you could feel how hard he was through his pants.
“fuck,” he muttered against your lips, voice low. he bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue before kissing you again, deeper this time.
you moaned into his mouth, hands working frantically to unbutton his shirt and push it off his shoulders. the moment his bare chest pressed against yours, sunghoon groaned and lifted you up. your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as he carried you across the room, lips still on yours.
he dropped you onto the bed, the mattress dipping. before you could even catch your breath, sunghoon was crawling over you, shoving his pants and boxers fully down to free his thick, heavy cock.
and jesus—unlike jay or jake’s, sunghoon was packing.
“you’re so hot,” sunghoon licked his lips, hooked his fingers into your panties, ripped them down your legs, and spread your thighs wide open with his knees. he looked down at you for one brief second, then lined himself up.
“are you gonna fuck me? without even knowing my name?”
sunghoon paused, the corner of his mouth twitching into a cocky smirk. finally, he didn’t look cold. he pushed just the tip inside you, teasing, before answering.
“i know you, yn,”
your eyes almost widened, a mix of surprise and arousal flashing across your features.
“how?”
he leaned down closer, one hand gripping your thigh as he slowly sank another inch deeper, stretching your tight cunt open. “i overhead your friends,” he murmured, hissing through his teeth as your pussy engulfed him.
you let out a soft moan, back arching as the familiar burn of being stretched came back to you. “fuck… you’re really something, hoonie.”
sunghoon bottomed out with a groan, burying himself to the hilt inside you. for a second, he stayed still—letting you feel and adjust every inch of him, his grip on your thighs tightened. you arched your back, eyes half–lidded as you looked up at him, that spark still burning bright behind your eyes.
“fuck me good, hoonie,” you whispered, biting your bottom lip as you began palming and playing with your tits, tweaking the perky buds. “make it worth me leaving my friends for you.”
“shh—shut up and let me do the work.”
that night, sunghoon fucked you for hours—the bed creaked loudly beneath as he fucked you deep and fast, hips snapping against yours with every thrust. his hands held your thighs spread wide, keeping you open as he pounded. the wet sounds of your bodies echoing in the hotel room.
“fuck—your cunt feels s’good,” sunghoon moaned, tipping his head against the headrest, jaw clenched tight. you hovered right over his hard, slick cock. sunghoon’s eyes never left yours as you sank down onto him, taking every inch until your ass met his lap.
a broken moan left your lips at the deeper angle. sunghoon groaned too, his fingers digging harder. “look at you,” he murmured, eyes roaming over your face, your bouncing, marked, tits, lips parted in pleasure with your tongue sticking out.
fuck. this is why sunghoon loved cowgirl. watching every lewd, pretty expression, every flutter of your eyelashes, your mouth opened to moan his name—because of this cock.
you started moving, rolling your hips in sensual circles, then bouncing on his cock with more force. his hands guided you, but he let you do most of the work, just like he liked it. his gaze stayed locked on your face the entire time.
“you’re so big, hoonie, oh jesus fuck,” you moaned eagerly, biting your lip. with each time you bounced on it, the head of his cock kissed your cervix sweetly and it felt so fucking good. he pulled you down closer by the nape of your neck, and kissed you deeply while you rode him.
“that’s it… just like that, baby,” he rasped against your mouth, kissing the corner of your lips, then your cheek, then your jaw. “ride my cock like a good girl—let me see how pretty you look when you cum on me again.”
his free hand moved between your bodies to circle and pinch your perky buds. the combination made your rhythm falter, thighs shaking as you bounced faster, chasing the high.
sunghoon kept watching you—obsessed. he kissed you again and again, swallowing your moans, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your movements and driving himself even deeper.
“cummin’ soon, babe?” he murmured against your lips, now moving his hand to rub that sensitive, wet, clit. “cum on me—then i’ll fill you up.”
you could only moan his name as the pleasure built higher and higher, your hips moving desperately.
sunghoon, who never thought he’d ever cheat on sooha, let alone creampie another girl he just met raw—watched your face with almost possessive gaze. he had always been careful, even with someone who has little to no morals.
and you—who had literally never let anyone cum inside you before—were seconds away from letting him be the first.
your thighs shook as the orgasm crashed over you. “fuck—!” you cried out, clenching hard around him, hips stuttering as you came and squirted all over his cock. the feeling of your pussy pulsing and gushing around him pushed sunghoon over the edge.
thick, hot spurts of semen flooded inside you, filling you up the very first time. he kept thrusting through it, pushing his cum deeper.
one night stand—this won’t ruin anything for sunghoon.
right?
——
“so,” jay started, leaning back against the railing with that smirk of his, “valentine’s next week. you guys already got plans locked in?”
jake nodded, smiling. “don’t even say it. i booked the restaurant last month because i know she’ll kill me if i forget. we’ll probs just have dinner together.” he shook his head, sipping his canned beer. “gotta keep the girlfriend happy, right?”
sunghoon took a slow sip of his as well, shrugging and unbothered as ever. “i’ll probably just take sooha out on a breakfast and shopping. i got plans that night.”
jay raised an eyebrow, turning to him with curiousity. “oh? what are you doing that night?”
he didn’t even flinch, just stared down at the small puddle of water around the can opening where his mouth kissed it. “bringing yeji out,” he said, absentmindedly swirling the alcohol in the can. “she’s been begging me to take her out. figured valentine’s night is as good as any.”
jake let out a laugh, completely buying it. “damn, she’s gonna milk you dry.” he commented, then glanced at jay from where he’s sitting. “what about you? something big again?”
“nah, think minji wants something intimate this time.” he hummed, looking out at the yard—people were chatting, dancing, and drunk to their heads. “maybe i’ll cook and we’ll spend the day at mine. who knows.”
“what a romance.”
the three of them continued talking easily—hopping from one topic to another—arguing whose girlfriend was more demanding, whose more whipped, and reminiscing about things they’ll never get back.
none of them even knew that they each shared the same secret—and little did they know, she was walking around the party downstairs right under their noses.
down in the crowded kitchen, you leaned against the counter, red cup in hand, while heeseung stood in front of you—close enough that his arm rested on the counter beside your waist.
“oh, i don’t have a boyfriend,” you replied, taking a small sip from your cup while holding his gaze. heeseung grinned, leaning in a little closer and lowering his voice so only you could hear him over the loud music.
“good. because i’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now. you’re always so hard to catch alone.” his fingers lightly tapped the counter next to your hip. “what do you say? let me take you somewhere nice this valentines?”
you bit your lip, pretending to think about it—
but before you could answer, a familiar voice cut through the noise.
“yn?”
sunghoon.
he was frowning. the usual expression on his face didn’t change much except for the tightness of his jaw, and the way his gaze flicked to heeseung’s hand near your hip.
heeseung turned his head, still smiling. “oh, hey man—”
sunghoon didn’t let him finish.
without a word, he reached out, wrapped his fingers around your waist and firmly pulled you away from the counter and away from heeseung. “come with me,” he said quietly, already leaving the kitchen.
you barely had time to shoot heeseung an apologetic smile before sunghoon guided you through the crowd, up the stairs, and into one of the empty guest rooms on the second floor. he closed the door—but didn’t lock it—the party noise instantly muffled.
“the fuck was that?” he asked, frowning and confused. “heeseung? really? you let him get that close to you?”
sunghoon took a step closer, towering over, eyes narrowed.
“i thought we had an understanding,” he continued, laced with unfair possessiveness. “you didn’t even tell me you’d be here—then i caught you with some dude flirting?”
before you could form a reply, his hand came up to grip your cheeks, forcing you to meet his gaze. “you couldn’t wait till i take you out on valentines?”
you looked up at him, a scoff escaped you—and a small smile tugged at your lips. “so you can have fun with sooha… but i can’t do the same with heeseung?”
his jaw tightened; and for a second, he just stared at you, thumb brushing over your lower lips. he let out a low, breathy scoff, almost a laugh—but there was no humour in it. “you’re really testing me,” he murmured, clicking his tongue.
“sooha’s my girlfriend. she gets breakfast and shopping because that’s what keeps everything quiet. you…” he paused, free hand slid down to your waist where he squeezed the flesh. “you get me at night. isn’t that better? i’m about to fuck you all night and you’re gettin’ jealous over some fucking breakfast?”
he tilted your head slightly, fingers digging into your flesh.
“don’t compare yourself to her. and don’t let another guy put his hands near you again.”
he crashed his lips against yours in a hungry, possessive kiss, gripping your jaw tighter as he devoured your mouth. the kiss was messy and intense—tongues sliding, teeth grazing, low groans between you.
you kissed him back just as fiercely, fingers threading into his hair and tugging hard, making him groan into your mouth.
“fuuuccckkk,” he grunted between the kiss—turning and walking you backwards until your legs hut the edge of the bed. without breaking the kiss, sunghoon pushed you down onto the mattress and climbed on top of you, body pressing into the sheets.
his hands roamed greedily—one sliding under your dress to grip your thigh, the other pinning your wrists above your head. “oh my, hngh,” you moaned softly, arching up into him as he ground his hips down against you. sunghoon bit your bottom lip, then soothed it with his tongue.
“always pissin’ me off—”
his phone suddenly started ringing on the nightstand.
sunghoon ignored it initially, lips moving down to your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another mark as the ringing continued. “jesus—shut the fuck up…” he murmured, merely glancing at his phone. he assumed it was just one of his friends, or just anyone but—
“sunghoon, you in here—?”
jake’s voice died in his throat. jay stood right beside him, phone in his hand—both of them froze in the doorway, eyes wide as they took in the scene.
you lying on the bed, dress hiked up, lips swollen from kissing. sunghoon on top of you, one hand under your dress, his lips glistened from saliva, hair messy from your fingers.
for a long, suffocating second, nobody moved.
sunghoon’s head snapped up, eyes widening in genuine shock, his expression completely shattered—he was caught. fucking caught. by his own bestfriends. they weren’t supposed to fucking know that he’s not loyal to sooha. the same two guys he swore loyalty to since teenangers.
the colour drained from his face.
jake and jay stared, wide–eyed, stunned.
“...yn?” jake breathed out first, voice barely above a whisper, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. jay’s mouth opened, then closed—replaced by pure disbelief. instead of addressing the elephant in the room—which was sunghoon fucking cheating—your name came out first.
the realisation hit them both at the same time—how the fuck did all of them came to know you? if jay knew you because of his affair, and jake knew you too—and sunghoon too—then were they all having an affair with you?
they’d been secretly fucking the same girl for months—?!
you, still pinned under sunghoon, felt your stomach drop.
“oh my fucking gosh…” you whispered, eyes wide, a nervous laugh bubbling out of you before you could stop it. you propped yourself up on your elbows, hand flew up to cover your mouth, but it was useless.
the shock, the absurdity, the fact that you had been playing all three of them without any of them knowing… it was all crashing down at once.
sunghoon finally pulled his hand out from under your dress and sat up slightly. he looked between his two bestfriends, voice strained. “look—this isn’t what it looks like.”
jake let out a broken, disbelieving laugh. “you’re on top of her, dude.”
jay’s grip tightened—he stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time.
“you.. and sunghoon?” his voice cracked. “how long has this been going on?”
the room was thick and silent for half a second.
then it clicked.
sunghoon’s eyes narrowed and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he looked at jay—then slowly turned his head toward jake. the realisation hit him. “wait…” he muttered. “how the fuck do you know her?”
jake’s face went pale—he blinked rapidly and swallowed the lump in his throat. “yeah… how do you know yn?”
jay’s mouth opened, but no words came out at first. his gaze flicked between you and sunghoon, confusion turning into dawning horror. sunghoon sat up straighter, but not off you. all three boys were now staring directly at you.
“how do you know jay?”
“and how the hell do you know jake?”
“you and sunghoon—?”
now the focus shifted entirely on you.
you were still lying on the bed, dress rumpled, lips swollen, heart hammering in your chest. three pairs of eyes—shocked, jealous, and confused—were locked on you.
“i—”
you tried to sit up, tugging your dress down with shaky hands. “i—i didn’t know? ah, i swear… it just… happened? i mean—”
you were clearly flustered, words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “i never thought—i didn’t know you guys knew each other—?”
before you could finish, jake reached behind him and closed the door with a soft click, locking the four of you inside. both of them walked closer to the bed, their expressions shifting from confusion to something more of—betrayal and disbelief.
jay ran a hand through his hair, letting out a short laugh. “wow… you’ve been fucking all of us?” his voice was low, eyes wide. “our own friend group?”
why didn’t they blame each other—? you thought, swallowing the lump in your throat. you guys were the asshole cheaters in the first place! so they could cheat on their girlfriends, but god forbids a girl have fun with multiple guys?
“have you been playing us the whole time? jake asked. “letting jay fuck you, me, now sunghoon pinning you down like that?”
just as you were about to open your mouth, sunghoon squished your cheeks together and slammed his lips against yours roughly—teeth clashing and grazing your lips. you whimpered into the kiss, hands instinctively grabbing his shirt.
when sunghoon finally pulled back, you grasped for air. his thumb dragged across your botton lip. “there’s no point hiding anymore, is there?”
the tension snapped.
jay moved first, climbing onto the bed and grabbing your wrist, pulling you toward him. “c’mere, baby.” jake was right behind him, kneeling on your other side. sunghoon stayed where he was, between your knees, watching as his two bestfriends started touching you.
in seconds, your dress was being yanked up and over your head. hands were everywhere—jake’s mouth on your neck, jay’s hands squeezing your tits, sunghoon’s fingers hooking into your panties and dragging them down your legs.
you were panting, head spinning from the sudden overload.
“look at her,” jay murmured, voice thick as he pinched your nipple, eliciting a moan. “pretty little side chick… been taking all three of us like a whore.” jake groaned, kissing down your chest. “and we thought we were the only ones… fuck, that’s so hot.”
sunghoon gripped your jaw again, turning your face toward him. “open your mouth.”
the second you did, and he kissed you again—rough and deep—while jay and jake worked together pleasing your tits. jay’s hand wandered along your tummy—down to your bare, wet cunt.
his fingers slid between your folds, groaning when he felt how wet you already were. “shit, so soaked.”
“fuckin’ dripping for us already,” sunghoon said, moving to give jake a space to settle between your spread legs. “turn over,” sunghoon ordered, commanding as he grabbed your hips. “on your hands and knees now, c’mon.”
your body obeyed before your brain could catch up—which shocked jake a little since with him, you were never this obedient. you were flipped onto all fours in the middle of the bed, ass up, back arched, completely exposed.
jake gripped your asscheeks, spreading them wide enough as he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly from your clit, all the way up to your dripping hole. “fuck, taste s’good,” he moaned, his cock beneath his pants twitched. he dove back in, licking and sucking messily while jay knelt in front of you. he tilted your chin up, hard cock already freed from his pants, thick and leaking.
“open that pretty mouth, baby.”
you parted your lips and he instantly pushed the head of his cock past them, sliding deep into your warm mouth with a satisfied groan. “oh, fuuuuck… your mouth always feels s’good…”
sunghoon stayed at your side, one hand already palming and stroking his cock while the other reached underneath to rub circles on your clit as jake french–kissed your pussy. “look at you,” sunghoon murmured. “what a slut… taking all taken men at once. this what you wanted, isn’t it?”
jake hummed against your pussy and you felt the curve of his mouth forming into a smile—the vibration making your thighs quiver. jay thrusted into your mouth, hand tangled in your hair. “been screwing each of us behind the other’s backs…” jay groaned, pushing deeper until you gagged.
“greedy little girl.”
your muffled moan around jay’s cock was the only answer they needed.
jake was the first to pull back from between your legs, shiny with your juices. he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, swimming with pure need. “i’m going first,” he said, settling behind you. “been dying to fuck you again since the last time.”
sunghoon and jay didn’t argue. they simply shifted positions.
jake moved behind you, gripping your hips tightly and lining up his hard cock with your dripping entrance. without any warning or heads up, he pushed in with one deep thrust—bottoming out in a single stroke.
“oh, fuuuck…” he groaned aloud, head falling back as your tight walls clenched around him. “still so ’ tight… missed this pussy so much.” jake started thrusting—deep strokes that rocked your body forward.
at the same time, sunghoon knelt in front of you. he grabbed your hair gently but firmly, guiding your mouth to his cock. “open up,” he ordered quietly. you obeyed, lips parting as he slid his thick length into your mouth. sunghoon let out a groan, eyes half–lidded as he watched you take him inch by inch.
jay moved to your side, kneeling close enough that his cock was right next to your face. your hand instinctively wrapped around his length, stroking his wet cock while you sucked his best friend’s.
the room filled with wet, porno sounds—jake’s hips slapping against your ass as he fucked you from behind, the slick sounds of your mouth working sunghoon’s dick, and your hand pumping jay’s length. every now and then, jake would slap you ass—gripping, squeezing, and spreading and watched as your asshole twitched.
“aw, pretty baby,” jay grunted, wrapping his bigger hand around yours as he guided you through it out. “taking all three of us so well, mm? perfect girl.”
next to him, sunghoon scoffed. jake panted and runted like a dog—gripping your hips harder as he pounded into you. “oh—hah—you feel so good, oh fuck, i missed this so much—missed you so much.”
sunghoon glanced at jake before his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your head as he picked up his pace fucking your mouth. “that’s it… suck me just like that—how you’d do with all the other guys, babe.”
jay groaned, hips twitching into your fist. “yeah—? do you have other guys you’re fucking aside us, yn?”
you instantly shook your head as much as you could with sunghoon’s cock buried in your mouth, a desperate, muffled, “mm—mm” vibrating around him.
“right,” sunghoon clicked his tongue. the memory of you getting hit on by heeseung playing in the back of his head. if you were able to hide jake and jay from him for months—who knew who else?
every thrust from jake pushed you forward onto sunghoon’s cock, forcing you to take him even deeper down your throat. you were gagging around him, drool slipping from the corners of your mouth but you kept sucking.
jake’s rhythm started to falter. his grip on your hips tightened almost painfully as he fucked you harder from behind. “hah—i’m close, oh god,” he groaned. “wanna fill you up—i can fill you up, right? hngh—you’ll let me?”
he slammed into you a few more times, deep and desperate, burying himself to the hilt. now—jay and sunghoon never knew jake was someone who’s into this but who were they to judge? the contrast between how you were with jake, sunghoon, and jay made them want to laugh.
with jay, you’re treated as the princess of the princess—sweet, gentle, kind words—like you’re the girlfriend. with jake, you got to order and command—and he’s always so fucking into being called a good boy. with sunghoon? with sunghoon—you’re the brat that needed some punishment.
you nodded your head and that was all jake needed.
“hah—cumming—” he rasped. you felt the first hot spurts of his cum flood deep inside you. the puppy boy kept grinding into you, milking every drop as he creampied you, his cock twitching. a low whine escaped your throat, muffled.
when jake finally pulled out, a thick trail of his cum leaked from your cunt.
“next,” jake panted, voice hoarse as he moved aside.
they filled you onto your back.
the player immediately took his place between your legs, but instead of fucking you missionary, he turned you slightly onto your side. he lifted your top leg, hooking it over his hip, and instantly slid his throbbing cock into your cum–filled cunt in one thrust.
“ah—! jay!” you moaned aloud, followed by jay’s groan. the warmth from jake’s cum wasn’t helping the situation at all. it felt so fucking good. “she’s so slippery with your cum, jake… so filthy.”
he started fucking you from the side—deep, rolling thrusts that let him hit every sensitive spot. you’re beyond embarrassed at this point. your creamy pussy that gushes cum with each thrust, how exposed and bare and wet you were for the other two boys to see.
you wondered if this was the consequences of your actions.
jake moved up beside your head, still breathing hard. he groped your tits greeding—how he loved them—squeezing and kneading, pinching your sweaty nipples as he leaned down to kiss and bite along your neck.
‘hngh—yn, i love these so much,” he muffled, sucking and tugging at your boobs. “so soft, you’re so squishy.”
sunghoon shifted to your other side, cupping your jaw and pulling you into a deep, messy kiss. his tongue slid against yours while jay continued fucking you from the side, the wet sounds of his cock plunging into your creampied pussy filling the room.
sunghoon kissed you like he couldn’t bear not doing anything while the other two boys had their fun. he was almost annoyed and pissed that they just had to interrupt him having you all to himself earlier.
“is this what you like?” jake murmured against your neck, his hands never stopping roaming. he groped your breasts, rolled your nipples between his fingers, then slid one hand down to rub your clit in lazy circles while jay thrusted into you. “taking jay’s dick right after i filled you up… you’re so hot, yn.”
“hngh—jay, oh fuck, you’re so big—” you moaned into sunghoon’s mouth in which he instantly shut you up. jay groaned, picking up the pace, hips snapping harder. “fuck. i can feel your cum every time i push in, jake. poor sweetheart, do you like this, baby?”
sunghoon pulled back from the kiss just enough to let you breathe, lips brushing yours. “answer him while he’s fucking you.”
your body trembled between the three guys as you answered: “yes, yes, yesyesyes—! i—i love all three of you, oh my fuck!” you cried out, chasing sunghoon’s lips as you began sucking his bottom lip. you moaned shamelessly into his mouth while jay’s cock dragged against your walls.
“we love you too.”
behind you, jay smirked—and jake couldn’t help from smiling.
“show us how much you love it, please?” jake murmured against your nipple, his fingers never slowing down—pressing and rubbing your clit. “squirt for us—make a mess all over jay’s dick.”
he began rubbing harder—and the pressure coiled fast. too fast.
before you knew it, your thighs started shaking uncontrollably. your back arched sharply as jake’s fingers and jay’s cock worked you together. “oh, i’m gonna—!”
you didn’t even get to finish.
with a loud, broken cry, you squired around jay’s cock. clear fluid gushed out of you, soaking jay’s hips, the sheets, and jake’s hand. your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching and pulsing violently.
“fuck—!” jay groaned, eyes rolling back as your walls squeezed him like a vice. the feeling of you squiring all over him while still full of jake’s cum pushed him over the edge. without any warning, he buried himself deep and came—thick ropes of cum shooting right inside.
he kept grinding into you through his orgasm, pushing every drop deeper as your squirt continued to leak around his cock.
sunghoon watched the while thing, still kissing you through your high, swallowing every broken moan and whimper.
when jay finally stilled, panting against your shoulder, the room was filled with heavy breathing and the obscene sound of cum and squirt dripping onto the sheets. jake leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your nipple while his fingers slowed on your oversensitive clit.
“good girl…” jay murmured, kissing your temple. “such a perfect girl.”
jay pulled out slowly, another mix of squirt and both their cum leaking out of your used cunt like whipped cream, jay smirked, giving your ass a squeeze.
“my turn.”
sunghoon didn’t waste a single second.
he moved between your legs, pushing them wide open as he settled on top of you in full missionary, his frame caged you in, eyes locked onto yours that always made your tummy flip. without warning, he slid two fingers deep into your cum–filled pussy, curcling them instantly.
“hah—hoonie—!” you gasped, back arching off the bed as he started fingering you—fast and deep, wet sounds loud and filthy as he stirred jake and jay’s cum inside you. “feel that, babe? he muttered. “so full already—yet so slutty for more.”
he pumped his fingers harder, scissoring them, pushing the mixed loads deeper while his thumb rub your swollen clit. your legs trembled around him, overstimulation making tears prick.
only when you were whimpering and gasping did sunghoon finally pull his fingers out. he brought them up to your mouth.
“clean ‘em.”
you obediently opened your lips, sucking his fingers clean of the messy mix of cum while he watched. then, he lined up his thick, needy cock—and pushed into you in one deep thrust, slow enough to let you feel every inch and veins of him.
a broken moan tore from your throat.
sunghoon bottomed out, holding your hips. “shit… so warm and wet,” he breathed, and began to move. his thrusts were hard and deliberate, hips snapping forward with every stroke, driving jake and jay’s cum even deeper.
he kept you in missionary the whole time—face to face, eyes locked, his body pressed flush against yours. one hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider. the other slid up to wrap gently around your throat, holding you there.
“open your mouth.”
you obeyed instantly, lips paring, tongue slightly out naturally.
sunghoon leaned in first. he gathered spit in his mouth and let it drop slowly onto your tongue, watching with a smirk as it landed right on your tongue. jake moved in simultaneously, hovering above you as he spat directly into your open mouth, a thick string of saliva mixing with sunghoon’s. jay too—tilted your head upward gently before spitting into your mouth as well.
all three of their spit mixed together on your tongue—so fucking humiliating in the best way.
“swallow, baby, c’mon,” jay murmured, kissing your cheek. sunghoon tightened his grip on your throat just a little, you swallowed the thick saliva, throat bobbing under his palm. the taste of all three of them made your pussy clench hard around sunghoon’s cock.
“fuck, she just squeezed me,” sunghoon groaned, picking up the pace, fucking you harder. “such a nasty little cumslut.”
jake chuckled, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth as he palmed your tits. jay’s hand slid down to rub your clit as sunghoon pounded into you deeply—”nasty little girl, look at you,” jay murmured, caressing your hair.
“you love being used like this? who taught you to be so slutty, baby, hm?”
sunghoon’s eyes never left yours—your half–lidded, crossed, rolled to the back glossy eyes. he fucked you relentlessly, wet squelching sounds of his cock stirring the mixed cum inside you filling the room. his hand stayed around your throat as he fucked your cunt like a fleshlight, claming while jake had his fun with your tits, and jay continued teasing your clit from the side.
you were a complete mess—trembling, moaning, drooling… barely got to focus on the moving ceiling above. your tits bounced and jiggled with every thrust—a sight jake could cum alone.
sunghoon’s thrusts grew sharper, deeper, and more desperate. his grip on you throat tightened just a fraction as he groaned against your lips. “fuck… ‘m cummin’—”
he straightened up, canines digging into his bottom lip as he buried himself to the hilt and came hard. the hardest he’s ever ejaculated. thick, hot ropes of cum flooded and washed over deep inside you, mixing with the cum from jake and jay before.
as usual, he kept grinding into you, pushing every drop as deep as possible while his cock twitched inside your overused, overfilled pussy.
at the same time, the two boys kneeled on either side of your head—jerking themselves off furiously above you, breathing heavily. “shit, shit, shit,” jay rasped, thick spurts of cum landing across your tits and collarbones.
“oh, gosh, yn, please,” jake whimpered, following just right after as he painted your face and chest with more warm cum. their softened cocks rested on your chest, with jay’s twitching again as it rubbed your nipple.
you lay there, panting, body covered in their cum—tits glistening like you milked out semen, pussy leaking a creamy mix of all three of them, throat marked from sunghoon’s hands and jake’s bites, lips swollen from jay’s kisses.
the room was silent except for heavy breathing and panting.
sunghoon pulled out—agonisingly slow—watching his thick cum drip and burst out from your stretched hole. fuck—what a sight, he thought. he wasn’t sure if this would be the last time. your pussy twitched and spasmed around nothing, thighs trembling with orgasm as you shivered.
jay leaned to press a chaste kiss on your cheek. jake’s softened cock caressed your other cheek as the owner pumped the mixed cum back inside your puffy pussy with his fingers. sunghoon pressed a soft, loving kiss to your lips.
“you’re our secret girl now.”
you lay between them—as the three sworn, soulmates bestfriends who used to swear they had no secrets finally agreed on one secret:
they would share their perfect little side chick—away from their girlfriends, and away from all the other guys out there.
JAY knew exactly what he was— big, overwhelming, too much. And you, made of glass, too perfect to damage, too soft to push past its limit without leaving cracks behind. But some things aren't meant to stay perfect, aren't they? — In which Jay is far too huge for someone as delicate and small as you
content tags and warnings: jay x reader, jay is taller than reader and can be carried by him. explicit content (smut): SIZE KINK AGENDA HUHU, unprotected sex, standing sex erm but later on it's not, dubconish content, squirting, overstimulation, hung! jay. MDNI. WC: 2K
note: do not repost, share, or bring my stories to other platforms such as x or tiktok. please keep my stories within this space.
At first, Jay found himself deeply conflicted about taking things further with you.
Look at you—you were his baby girl.
He cared about you in a way that made him unusually cautious, almost overly aware of everything he did around you. There was a constant awareness in him whenever you were near, a sense that you weren’t someone he could treat carelessly or push too far without thinking about the consequences.
He was aware of the physical difference between you two, and more importantly, of how fragile you seemed in his presence when he stood too close or moved too quickly. You were small, delicate in a way that made him naturally slow down, it was like his presence alone carried too much weight for you to handle.
He knew exactly what he was.
Big, overwhelming, too much.
Oh, poor you, couldn’t even take his fingers without falling apart on him, your tight cunt clenching and resisting, your voice breaking into helpless cries, begging him to pull it out for just a second.
It really did feel like you were made of glass, something too perfect to damage, too soft to push past its limits without leaving cracks behind. Jay thought about holding back, about keeping things exactly where they were, untouched, safe.
But some things aren’t meant to stay perfect.
Some things are meant to be used, stretched, tested until they give.
“S-Slow down… p-please…” you whimper, your hands press flat against the wall, fingers splayed.
Oh, a perfect glass to ruin. Your back arches so perfectly in front of him, the curve of your body practically inviting him closer, the way your ass presses back without you even realizing it.
It took time to get you here.
A long fucking time.
“Love you,” he whispers against your ear, his lips brush over the sensitive curve of it, lingering there for a second before pressing a slow kiss just beneath. One of his hands settles around your waist, while the other guides himself down, his grip tight as he drags the thick length of his cock forward, letting the wide tip press and slide slowly against your slick labia.
A soft, breathy moan slips out of you before you can stop it, you glance back over your shoulder, your eyes meeting his for a brief second before you lean in just enough to catch his lips in a kiss that’s clumsy but needy.
Your neck strains with the angle, your smaller frame struggling to keep up with his height, but you don’t pull away.
His hips start to move in slow motions, dragging himself along your folds, teasing your clit with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch. The friction sends heat rushing through your body, building steadily, making your thighs tense as you try to hold yourself together.
You shift closer without thinking, your back pressing fully against his chest now, and the difference between you becomes even more obvious as both of his arms wrap around you, caging you in, holding you exactly where he wants you.
Your mind feels scattered, spinning in uneven circles, thoughts tripping over each other as anticipation and nerves twist together in your stomach.
You can take it.
You have to.
“Ya ready?”
“Hm…” you nod faintly as you break the kiss, your head dropping against his chest.
The position is awkward for him, his knees bending slightly to line himself up with you, his grip tightening just a bit around your waist as the thick tip of his cock presses against your entrance, nudging, testing, before slowly starting to push inside.
Fuck!
Both of you react at the same time, your mouths parting as an overwhelming sensation pulls a broken whimper from your throat, your body tensing around him as if trying to resist what it doesn’t know how to take.
“Shhh,” he murmurs quickly, his lips move over your ear again, then down to your neck, pressing slow comforting kisses there.
“Hurts…” you whine softly, your fingers tightening against his arms where they’re wrapped around you.
“I know, baby… just—just a little bit more, hmm?” Jay’s voice comes out strained and clearly slipping his control as he tries to keep his pace slow, his forehead and neck tense with effort while he eases forward in small, careful increments, stopping each time he feels you tighten around him.
But the restraint he’s holding onto is wearing thin, his focus breaking in waves as your warmth and closeness start to undo him piece by piece.
You nod weakly against him, lips parting as you try to steady yourself, “M’kay…” the words slurring a little, not quite clear but obedient in a ways that is trying to be good for him even as your body struggles to adjust.
Your hand stays on his arm bracing yourself as he adjusts your position, his feet nudging yours, guiding your legs wider so he can ease in further.
His mouth is trailing messy, lingering kisses along your shoulder and up your neck, so gentle at first then nibbling the skin, until it turn rougher, biting your neck that made your whole body shiver every time he would push his hips deeper.
Why won’t you let him in?
Each attempt is the same unsteady pattern, a careful push forward followed by a pause, then a slight retreat before he tries again, repeating it over and over as he tries to guide you through the sensation without overwhelming you, though the restraint in him is visibly thinning with every breath he takes.
“J-Jay… slow down… please…”
Your fingers tap weakly against his arm, trying to get his attention, but his focus is fractured. He hears you, but it doesn’t fully register the way it should, because half of his attention is gone, consumed by the overwhelming warm of your pussy, by the way everything feels too much and not enough at the same time.
He exhales sharply through his nose, a low grunt catching in his throat as he tries not to lose control completely, his movements stuttering for a brief second before he steadies again, though it’s clear he’s struggling now.
Let him in. Let him in. Let him in!
“Jay, love... please… wait…” you whimper again, almost embarrassed.
You can take this even if it feels like too much too fast. It isn’t that you can’t—it’s that he isn’t slowing the way you need him to, that everything is happening in rushed, uneven waves that leave you barely catching up before the next one hits. It was overwhelming!
“Jay!” A small, panicked squeal as you try again to pull him back into focus, your body tensing as you realize he’s not fully listening anymore.
Something is coming. Your stomach is tightening in a ways you don't fully understand. Something is fucking coming!
But Jay is gone in it now, lost in the moment, the next moment when he finally moves again, it’s with a sudden, decisive push that leaves no space for hesitation, pushing his cock all the way inside you. Drawing a sharp, breathless reaction from you as your body reacts all at once, your head tipping back, neck straining, vision flashing white at the edges as the intensity overtakes you and the world narrows down to nothing but him holding you in place while your hands scramble against the wall just to keep yourself steady.
“Ahh, fuck, finally.” Jay groans, his breath spills hot against your neck, while your own response breaks apart into soft, helpless whimpers.
Your legs tremble beneath him, muscles refusing to steady, and he feels every tight, fluttering clench that grips him like your body doesn’t know whether to pull him deeper or force him out. His jaw tightens, eyes flicking with a brief, impatient roll at the sensation, because it borders on too much, too tight, too warm, and yet he doesn’t move away, doesn’t give in to the pressure trying to push him out; he stays buried, stubbornly pressing forward, addicted to the heat wrapped around him.
Then he notices the way your thighs shake harder, the slick, sudden liquid spill that follows, spurting, as some of it trails down between your legs.
Oh…
You sniffle, lips quivering as embarrassment floods your face just as quickly as the tears do, streaking down your cheeks.
“Baby…” Hazy, almost dazed, Jay leans down to press a kiss against your head.
A flicker of satisfaction underneath it all, he feels what he’s done to you. God, he really did break you, didn’t he? His baby girl, falling apart right where he wants you.
And fuck, it feels good.
He drags himself out slowly, until there’s nothing left connecting you, the sudden emptiness making you gasp, but he doesn’t give you time to recover. He thrusts back in, forcing a sharp yelp from your throat that cracks into another sob as your hands curl uselessly.
Again—he pulls out, then pushes back in with the same steady force, drawing out that same broken sound from you.
“My baby… my love,” Jay murmurs, his head tilting back for a moment as his eyes roll, lost in the way you feel around him. One of his hands slides up, settling around your neck. “My good girl… it’s okay, shhh…” His tone softens just enough to soothe, even as his hips push deeper, contradicting every bit of comfort with the relentless way he keeps going, dragging you right back into it.
All you can do is moan. Your body feels like it’s burning from the inside out, heat spreading through your chest and stomach, pooling low in a way that leaves you breathless and unfocused. Your legs refuse to cooperate, trembling uncontrollably beneath you, barely holding your weight as Jay keeps setting that relentless pace behind you, driving his huge cock into you over and over again, hitting deep, right where it makes your thoughts scatter.
It’s too much, overwhelming in a way that makes your head spin, pleasure stacking until it feels unbearable. Good—too fucking good. It builds and builds, pressing against your nerves until it almost hurts, until it feels like your mind can’t hold onto it anymore. It feels—
“—Feels like I’m g-going to break, Jayyy—” your voice cracks as you cry out, your knees buckling under you, your body finally giving in to the strain.
You don’t hit the ground because Jay catches you instantly.
A sharp squeal leaves you as he lifts you with ease, one arm locking securely around your waist while the other still settling around your neck in a firm hold. The shift in position makes your head fall back slightly, your eyes rolling as your body reacts all over again, the angle changing just enough to make everything hit deeper, sharper, more intense than before.
“You can take it,” Jay groans right into your ear. “Haaa, I love your pussy, baby.”
Your feet dangle uselessly off the ground, swinging slightly with every movement of his body, your toes curling tight as the sensation keeps crashing over you. You are completely held up and kept in place while he keeps going, each thrust forcing another broken sound out of you.
Your back arching helplessly as the sensation overwhelms you again. It feels like you’re slipping somewhere distant, like your body is still here with him but your thoughts are drifting, dissolving into nothing but feeling.
Jay loves you, his baby girl. He fucking loves you.
A deep, guttural groan leaves him as he spills his cum into you, warmth flooding through your already trembling body, but he doesn’t let go, doesn’t ease up, doesn’t give you the mercy of rest. He keeps you held there, suspended in the air and keeps driving his hips, forcing the both of you in overstimulation.
You’re breaking.
That’s the most beautiful part.
If you crack, if you splinter under his hands, if you come apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of you—he’ll just gather every shattered part and put you back together the way he wants.
And when you’re whole again— he’ll break you all over again.
am i the only one feeling overwhelmed and conflicted now that enhablr is getting more and more attention on tiktok? like, on one hand, it’s nice seeing people finally recognize how insanely good the writing is, and that art has always deserved more appreciation. but at the same time, i can’t help but feel like this kind of exposure might do more harm than good.
enhablr has always felt like an almost “safe” corner for readers and writers, especially for those who explore darker or more unconventional themes. now that it’s being pushed into a mainstream platform like tiktok, it’s attracting an audience that doesn’t always understand or respect that genre. i mean, the fact that x reader works are getting mocked or shamed by people who don’t get the appeal. what more could it be if they discovered this.
from now on, i do not give permission for my fanfiction to be reposted, shared, or brought to other platforms such as x or tiktok.
i truly appreciate all the love and support you’ve been giving my work—it really means a lot to me. however, i prefer to keep my stories within this space and share them only with you all here.
(✉️) a/n: I made this with the ideas of my moot @lexiizarchive !! I hope you like it and it’s what you envisioned even if it’s js a little (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) <3
sunghoon's slender fingers gently trace along sunoo's sides, running his fingers through sunoo's hair his warm breath tickling sunoo's ear as he whispers "come on, baby~ open up for me. i know you want to let me in~" he leans in closer as he whispers again, "you can't ignore me forever, sunoo-ah." he gently bites sunoo's neck, leaving marks. "i already said no" sunoo whispers desperately his voice breaking. "have some respect heeseung is sleeping next to us!" sunoo whisper shouts pointing at heeseung who was sleeping on the hotel bed next to theirs. sunghoon chuckles quietly, pressing his lips against sunoo's ear. "shh, we both know he's a heavy sleeper. he won't wake up." his hand slips into sunoo's pajama pants, gripping his hardening member, grinding his hard cock against sunoo's thigh, letting him feel how big and hard he is. he smirks as sunoo's whines, loving the effect he had on him, his hand covering sunoo's mouth completely to muffle any sounds "we'll be quick and quiet, i promise." he starts jerking sunoo off under the covers all "respect" getting thrown out the window as sunoo arches into sunghoon, slowly stroking sunoo's cock, his thumb rubbing the sensitive tip spreading his precome. "spread your legs a bit… just a little." he carefully lifts sunoo's legs, spreading them apart. his fingers gently probing sunoo's entrance, he slides his index finger inside sunoo, curling it to hit his prostate softly. he adds another finger, scissoring them slowly stretching him out making sunoo's eyes roll back without a sound, sending electric shocks of pleasure through his body, making his hips buck involuntarily against sunghoon's hand. his fingers buried deep inside him, curling and pumping relentlessly against his sweet spot. the stretch and burn from sunghoons thick fingers is intense but incredibly pleasurable, especially since he's trying so hard to be quiet. sunoo is a mess - his face flushed, eyes watery from sunghoons big hand muffling his desperate cries and pleas for release. his legs trembling around sunghoon's hand, eyes squeezed shut. sunghoon slows his fingers, watching sunoo's face closely.
sunghoon leans in close, their faces inches apart. "open your eyes, sweetheart." sunoo peeks at him shyly. sunghoon's gaze is intense "look at me while i finger you." he orders softly, pulling his fingers out slowly and then pushing them back in just as slowly. sunoo whimpers and looks up at him with glazed eyes. "keep looking at me." he commands, curling his fingers to hit that spot. sunoo looking up at sunghoon with hooded, pleading eyes. the pleasure builds intensely inside sunoo, his prostate sensitive and swollen from the stimulation. he feels wet, full, and his hole aches deliciously around sunghoon's thick fingers. he speeds up his fingers, hitting that spot inside sunoo over and over again as he watches sunoo tense up. his body writhe silently. he knows he's close, so he pulls his hand suddenly away from his mouth. as expected, sunoo throws his head back, letting out a loud "ah!" sunoo's eyes widen in shock and frustration, he freezes mid-moan, eyes wide as no sound comes out. he bites down hard on his lip to keep from making any more loud noises. "mmm, it's okay baby." sunghoon whispers, his fingers still moving inside sunoo. "let it out baby i need to hear you. i want to hear those pretty sounds." he curls his fingers again, hitting that spot perfectly. "go ahead...he won’t hear i promise" sunoo teary eyed let’s out a moan that came from the back of his throat. squirming violently in sunghoon's embrace, releasing onto sunghoons hand. "hnngh s-sunghoon" he grabs onto the sheet tightly his knuckles turning white. sunghoon coming down with him. his cum squirting onto sunoo’s thigh he was humping while fingering him.
the next morning they had to endure teasing from the boys all day. heeseung did in fact hear and told the boys. "ahh ah sunghoonie~" heeseung mimicked sunoo. sunghoon hitting him in the back of his head threatening the boys before looking back at a very angry sunoo, mouthing a 'sorry'. not even all the mint choco ice cream in the world was gonna fix this.
Jake Sim, son of one of the most wealthiest CEOs in Australia. Who also happens to be the man your parents set you to marry at 20 years old, and now—five years later, the father of your child. You and Jake have a..rocky relationship to say the least. The real question is, who’s going to be the first to break?
sim jaeyun x fem! reader
content warnings: smut, fluff, slight angst if you squint, arranged marriage, reader and jake have a kid, forced proximity, unprotected sex, pussy eating, breeding, fingering, masturbation (m & f), nipple stimulation, tit obsessed jake (he’s also pussy drunk asf), wet dreams, squirting, teasing, stubborn/avoidant reader, suggestive jokes, jake calls reader “mama”, mentions of alcohol and controlling parents, featuring Sunghoon and Jay. Just know Jake wants it real bad and he’s kind of pathetic.
word count: 21k (I got carried away)
this builds off of my jay fic here: Sweet Desire, but it can be read alone
The day you were informed of the arrangement, your whole world crashed on you. To be fair, you knew it was coming, your parents made sure of it. The constant reminders to not waste time on the boys around you because you were bound to marry one of their choice.
Jake Sim, Son of one of the most wealthiest CEO’s in Australia. Before you married him, you met him briefly when your parents dragged you to Australia to confirm everything. You had no choice of course.
One thing you didn’t miss was how handsome he was. Not to mention that ridiculous accent, if it hadn't been an arrangement you would have definitely gone after him.
He didn’t love you though. Not in the way husbands love their wives. Because this was all for one thing, to join your families. And that's all he saw it as, just another task his parents assigned for him.
After you got married, he didn’t touch you for almost eight months. The only reason he did was because both of your parents, demanding, constantly asking why you haven’t announced your pregnancy to them.
The night he did touch you that way, he could barely even look at you. If he was being honest, he enjoyed it but he wouldn’t dare to admit that out loud.
It felt good. You remember the feeling of him, the sounds, the words he let slip out in the moment, but after that it was meaningless.
You lived together during the pregnancy, he helped you, he was caring. Caring in a way he hadn’t been before you had his child in you. Over the course of those nine months you grew a special connection together.
Becoming a mother was something you expected, but you had always thought of it to be different, not something arranged, a duty needing to be fulfilled.
Like the movies you would watch, the books you secretly read, maybe even the dreams you had, but then again—do they really always come true?
Then the arguments started, the fighting. He never laid a hand on you, never hurt you, but most of all he never touched you sexually again. Was it because he thought it wouldn't be good? Because you were no longer ‘fit’?
Which was many people's explanation why their husbands wouldn't touch them. But you constantly reminded yourself, he’s hardly your husband, this is simply an arrangement.
Which is exactly why you’re in your car now, with your four year old daughter, driving to Jake Sim’s house to drop her off for the week.
On paper you two are married, but in reality you moved out when your daughter turned one. You couldn’t handle it anymore, and you figured it would be best if she didn’t grow up in a house full of arguments from the people who were supposed to be her role models.
Jake didn’t seem to mind, his time mostly consisted of working, trying to expand his knowledge on his father’s company which he was going to inherit.
One thing you did agree on, was that you were able to see other people, date whoever, fuck whoever. Obviously you both had needs, needs that you weren’t willing to fulfill with each other. The only thing was you couldn’t introduce said person to Layla.
“Daddy said he’d buy me the whole barbie section from the store!” Your daughter says, playing with the dolls he apparently just bought her a few weeks ago.
“You already have all of them right sweetheart?” You ask, turning into the gated neighborhood, the houses are pretty spaced apart since they're huge. You don’t understand why he didn’t just move to a smaller place afterwards, 6 bedrooms is extremely unnecessary for one man.
“Not the camping ones” she looks out the window as you pull into his driveway with a smile on her face. You glance down at your outfit, So what if you are wearing something nice, and a little more makeup then normal..nothing wrong with dressing up a little.
You move to the trunk to get the backpack with everything she needs from your place before getting her from the backseat “You ready Lay?” You ask helping her out, and holding her hand as you walk to his front door, before you're even on the front porch the door opens, you pause, she lets go of your hand to run to him, jumping in his arms.
He’s wearing some jeans with a casual sweater, his hair styled, but messy at the same time. “Aw, sweet girl, you missed me?” He says hugging her back, holding her in his arms.
He offers a tight lipped smile to you before inviting you in, “I wanna play with the barbie house!” She says, squirming to get out of his arms, he puts her down, watching as she runs off to the living room to play.
You set the backpack down on the kitchen island before looking around, nothing seems different from the last time you were here.
“The drive was okay?” He asks, walking past you into the kitchen, hips brushing yours. You don’t know if it was intentionally, but you do know every nerve in your body felt it. “Yeah, traffic wasn't terrible.” You nod, slightly cringing at the attempt in small talk.
“Im going to use the bathroom” You say abruptly, “Second door on the right.” He offers, “I know.” He lets his eyes drop to your outfit for a split second before you disappear down the hall.
You walk to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you before bracing your hands on the counter, looking up at your reflection.
God, you're actually pathetic.
You wait a few minutes before you flush the toilet, you didn't even have to use the bathroom.
Jake moved to the living room, sitting on the couch watching Layla play with her toys with a smile on his face. You don't look at him before crouching down beside her
“Mommy’s going to leave now okay?” You smile softly, “But I want you and Daddy to both play!” she frowns, looking at Jake than at you, you can't help but share the same frown before leaning in to give her a hug, she wraps her arms around your neck.
Jake watches the interaction, he cant help the slight ting of guilt that hits his chest, he watches you pull back to kiss her forehead before standing up.
“I'll walk you out” he stands with you, following you to the door, you step out before turning to face him “I won't be able to call her goodnight tomorrow.” You say, watching him lean against the door frame, eye brow raised.
“Why?” he asks the question like it’s his business to know. “I'm just- I’ll be busy.”
“Ah, a date?”
“What- Thats none of your business” You say defensively
“So a date then.” He sighs, watching the way your face morphs to irritation.
You dodge his question “No ice cream for dinner.” You mutter before turning to walk to your car, he closes the door once you drive off, before putting his attention back on his adorable daughter.
-
“She’s dating now? Damn, about time.” Sunghoon mutters, putting down the weights he was just lifting.
“About time? No, fuck no.” Jake replies back, grabbing heavier weights just to feel something. “Why’re you pressed about it? You’ve fucked plenty of girls since.” Sunghoon says casually.
“Well it’s–different..”
“Nope, not that different.”
“You’re not helping.”
“Did you guys not agree to do just that? It’s not like she’s getting married to another guy. She probably just needs to get laid.” Sunghoon offers bluntly, earning a glare from Jake.
Yeah, that was the agreement, but it doesn't help the thoughts going through his mind. Sure he’s had plenty of useless fucks, using his hand gets boring. But he hasn't dated officially, so you going on a date, just makes shit worse.
“When was the last time you actually got pussy then?” Sunghoon asks, finishing his set of bicep curls.
“Shit, like a few weeks back–”
“That’s why you’re so fucking frustrated.” He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
“How’s things going with that Sara girl?” He questions, downing his water
“Who?” Jake asks, genuinely confused
“Sara, the girl you met at the bar?”
“Oh–I don't know, She’s just kind of..boring.”
“Wish she was y/n huh?” Sunghoon smirks
“Bro fuck you, when was the last time you–”
“Last night.” Sunghoon replies immediately, Jake opens his mouth to speak, closes it.
“Okay, what were you saying about the weights?” Jake asks, changing the topic, earning a laugh from Sunghoon.
As soon as Jake gets home, he wakes up Layla, who attempts to sprint down the stairs just to see the guest he brought back.
“Hoon!” Layla practically screams, running up to his best friend to give him a hug, “Hey Lay, Just had to stop by to pick up something” Sunghoon smiles down at her, the cocky bastard exterior gone, making Jake roll his eyes. “The papers are in my study. I'll be right back.” Jake says, walking upstairs.
Sunghoon is his best friend, someone who he can really trust. He’s one of the few people in his life who know about the arrangement between you and him.
He also happens to work at his fathers company, one that Jake will soon inherit. The only steady thing in his life consists of work at this point.
He can't help the laugh that slips past his lips when he sees Sunghoon sitting on the ground, holding a fairy barbie and talking in a pitch way too high for a 25 year old man.
“No! You were supposed to give up your wings so mermaid Barbie can swim!” Layla says in a sharp tone talking to Sunghoon “Sorry, sorry, take the wings please–” He apologises as if he’s scared of upsetting her-
“Having fun?” Jake smirks walking over to him “So much fun” Sunghoon replies standing up and taking the papers from him.
“Bye Layla, ill see you soon” Sunghoon says, rubbing Layla's head before turning to the door “Gym same time tomorrow?” He adds
Jake nods, walking to the kitchen as the front door shuts.
“Hm I guess ill just eat all this ice cream by myself” Jake says loud enough, less then 10 seconds pass until Layla's running over to the kitchen with a smile on her face.
-
The date was genuinely horrible. Some guy your friend tried setting you up with, all he did was talk about himself the whole time. You slip off your heels before stepping inside your house, who knew listenting to someone brag about themselve could be so fucking exhausting.
You’re so sexually frustrated it's insane. Since when did finding a quick hookup become so hard? You crawl into your bed not bothering to change out of your dress.
You lay there for a moment, contemplating, before deciding to reach into your side drawer, pulling out one of the things that has kept you sane this entire time.
You hike up your dress to your hips before brushing your fingers in between your legs, feeling the dampness coat your fingers through the thin fabric of your panties. You push them to the side before clicking the button on your vibrator.
The low buzz filling the silence of the room before you bring it down to your core, your hips instantly jolt at the feeling, you rub small circles on your clit with it, pinching your nipples through your dress before closing your eyes, trying to imagine someone else pleasuring you, bringing you closer instead of yourself..someone like–Jake..
Oh hell no.
You open your eyes, turning off the vibrator before sitting up. “No, no, absolutely not.” Anything but him, anyone but him. It’s like the universe wants you to think about him as his name flashes across your screen.
“Fuck.” You whisper, grabbing the phone, you fix your hair in the reflection looking back at you before clicking accept.
“Hey y/n, Layla wanted me to call you, she said she wouldn't sleep unless you said goodnight–are you good?” He pauses, looking at your flushed face on his phone
“What? Good, yes I'm good- why are you asking that. Just show me Lay.” You feel your heart racing in your chest, why does it feel like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't.
“Okay.” He simply says before giving Layla the phone
“Daddy said you wouldn't be able to call tonight but I still wanted to see you” Layla pouts, you can't help the warm feeling in your chest at how cute she is “I'm here now sweetheart, I hope you sleep well and have good dreams okay?” You say sweetly, blowing her a small kiss before Jake takes the phone back.
“Goodnight Layla” He says, you don't see his face but you watch the lights turn off and listen to the sound of the door shutting. “Alright bye-”
“How was the date?” He asks, walking to what seems to be his room and sitting on his bed, the camera is now on him, you watch him push his black framed glasses up his nose with his finger, fuck, why are his hands so damn hot.
“What–”
“That bad huh?” He chuckles, the sound low, in amusement. “It's none of your business.” You scoff, rolling your eyes.
“I think it is my business what my wife does.” That has you fucking shook. “Your wife? Are you serious right now?”
“Very. If the date went well, you wouldn't have answered the phone. Yet here you are.” He can't hide the smirk that coats his face. “You have no room to talk–” You snap back, “You just answered my question for me anyway” He dodges your statement, with a proud look on his face, God–he’s such an ass.
“I’m not talking to you unless it's about Layla. Goodnight.” You say, tone stern before hanging up.
What the hell is wrong with him? You knew he was a cocky asshole the second you met him all those years ago.
But you can't deny, he’s a damn good father.
-
You got the call in the middle of the day while making yourself coffee in your offices lounge.
“Is she hurt?” You ask frantically, packing your bag and letting your boss know you have an emergency.
You don't have to work honestly, you're wealthy enough to spend your days slouching around the house, but you like being on your feet, because sitting down for too long is when the overthinking happens.
“No Mrs. Sim, She’s not hurt, but she did lay hands on another student. Which is completely unacceptable here.” The Director of Layla's pre-school says.
“Did you call her father as well?”, “Yes ma’am, Mr. Sim is on his way right now.” She says cliply. You let out a sigh “I’ll be there right away.” You say before hanging up and getting in your car immediately.
Once you get to the school, you see Jake pacing outside of the Director's office, he’s in a suit, he must have just come from work too. You smooth down your blouse and business pants before walking over to him, the sound of your heels being the only thing in the empty hallway, he stops to look at you, not having time to fully take you in
“Where is she?” You ask, hand gripping your phone hard. “They took her to a different classroom, some bullshit about needing to calm herself down.” He says, pushing his hair back.
“Layla would never do something like this, not just because anyway. There has to be a reason.” You bite your lip in frustration before knocking on the door of the office. “Come in.” you hear the stern voice of the Director say, before looking at Jake who nods.
You both walk in, taking the seats in front of her desk, “Good evening Mr, and Mrs. Sim, I'm sure you know why I've called you here.” She says, eyes darting between the two of you.
You can't help the way your hand grips your phone tighter at the use of the last name, the one that feels like it doesn't even belong to you. “We also do not tolerate any form of violence here. Since this is the first and hopefully only time, we've given her a warning, due to the..circumstances of the action.” You raise a brow at that
“What ‘circumstances’?” Jake asks, tone serious. “Well, another student had actually taken her..barbie doll, and–” She clears her throat “Ripped the head off..” She finishes, looking at the both of you and the confused looks on your faces
“So she kicked him.” You see Jake slightly relax in his chair, “So she was just defending herself then.” He offers, “Well, in a sense, but it's still not acceptable, like I said we forbid any violence. So there is another reason I called you both here today.” You raise your brow as she continues talking
“Is there something going on at home?” She asks, looking at you then at him. You scoff at that “No, everything's perfectly fine.” You simply say, you watch the way Jake shifts in his chair, earning a glare from you and a curious look from the director
“And you Mr. Sim?” She says, “Right, Yes everything's fine, nothing more than the perfect family.” He smiles, that performative one you always see in the business photos. “Good to hear. Layla should be waiting outside, Thank you for coming all this way.” You nod, before standing up, Jake follows after you.
As soon as you see her, you crouch down to her level in the chair “Lay, baby–” You look down at the doll in her hand, ruined.
“Layla-” Jake whispers, sitting down next to her, she looks up at you, tears in her eyes, her face slightly red from crying earlier. You swipe them away with your thumb gently “H-he took it from me..a-and he broke it mommy” She says, voice trembling, you look up at Jake, you see that familiar look of anger flash on his features.
“I k-kicked him..I know I shouldn't have Im s-sorry” She says before breaking into a sob, and hugging you.
You hug her back immediately, hand smoothing down the back of her head before looking at Jake, He doesn't say anything before standing up and storming back into the directors office, shutting the door behind him. You don't stop him either, because you know exactly what he’s going to do.
You pull back to look at her, your heart hurts to see her like this. “Listen, I'm not saying violence is okay, but I'm glad you defended yourself okay?”
You tuck her hair behind her ear “I don’t want you to solve problems with violence, do you understand?” you ask gently, she nods looking down at her barbie ashamed, you press a kiss to her forehead before standing up.
Jake walks out of the office not even 5 minutes later, "I've got the kids parents contact, he wont mess with her again.” Is all he says before picking up Layla in his arms and walking outside to his car, you follow after him, watching as he buckles her up in the car. He swipes a thumb over her cheek gently before shutting the door and turning to face you.
“Perfect family huh?” You cross your arms over your chest, watching his face “She bought it.” He simply says. “Yeah, you’re pretty good at lying.”
“Fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means what I said.” You reply back snappy
“Yeah okay y/n, im not doing this shit” He rubs his nose bridge before looking at you again “Typical of you, being an avoidant asshole.” You don't know where this is coming from, but you can't stop the words from coming out, the pent of frustration boiling in you.
He sighs, looking down at his shoes before back at you, something you can't quite pin flashing in his eyes. “I’ll see you on Friday.” His tone is sharp before turning around and getting in his car.
You don't say anything before walking to yours, the sole of your heels digging into your feet irritating you, but nothing can possibly be more irritating than Jake Sim.
-
Friday comes sooner than expected, Jake messaged you a brief “On the way.” 20 minutes ago.
You opted for some lounge pants and a sweater today. “Mommy!” Layla's bright voice says the second you open the door “Hi angel” You smile when she hugs your leg, before looking at Jake.
He’s wearing a navy suit today, glasses. You try not to think about how good he looks in those glasses.
You look down at the pink backpack on his shoulder “Oh- um, you can come in–” You say, walking back.
The place is perfectly curated to how you want. So much more different than his house, You don't see the deep inhale he takes.
It smells so much like you. “You can just put the bag wherever” You say briefly. “Y/n-”
“Mommy guess what!” Layla drags your attention to her, you tilt your head “Daddy said we're going to Italy with grandma and grandpa!” she says, tugging your pant leg, you don't smile. You look up at a very nervous looking Jake,
“Oh really sweetheart?” You ask, still looking at him. “Yup! Grandma called” She giggles, you lower yourself to the ground to talk to her face to face “Can you go to your room angel? Me and daddy need to have an adult conversation okay?” She nods, completely clueless that she just practically dropped a bomb on you.
When you see she’s down the hall you whip your head to Jake “What the fuck?” You look at him eyes wide
“I know, okay I know.” He buries his face in his hands, “When is this happening.”
“Two weeks.”
“Two weeks Jake, are you serious? When the hell were you planning on telling me?”
“Come on y/n. You know how they get. They want us all to be one big happy family or something–” He sighs “Who else is going "
"I don't know, it was brief.” You look at him like he has two heads “No. No I cannot do this, I absolutely cannot fucking do this.” You walk to the kitchen, pacing around, he follows
“Like what the fuck was going through your head when you said I would go?” You try not to raise your voice so Layla doesn't hear.
“If I had a choice I would have said no. You know how they are, they expect you to be there.” He says, watching you.
“How long is it?” You ask, trying to remain sane.
“A week.”
“No fucking way, no actual fucking way.” You don't even know what to say. “I cannot be stuck in Italy with you for a week, no way in hell.”
“Geez, didn't know I was that bad.” He says, leaning against the counter, like he belongs in your house.
It’s true, Jake isn't horrible, he picks up, he doesn't snore, too loud anyway. But that's not why you're stressed about this. It’s because you don't know what could happen.
“There's more..” He says, watching your reactions
“No.” because you know exactly what he’s going to say, you can feel it.
“They dont want us to stay at the estate with them in Milan. Something about us needing ‘couple time’.” You're going to throw up. You're actually going to throw up in front of him.
“I don't need them to butt into our–relationship, it's perfectly fine how it is right now.” He doesn't say anything to that.
“I know y/n. I tried to talk them out of it, but they are dead set on it.” You sit down, you can't be on your feet right now, you inhale and exhale, trying to calm the rapid pace of your heartbeat.
“I’ll probably be taking care of shit for the company anyways, it’s this whole thing with our partners from America–” He sighs, hand running through his hair in irritation.
“Okay. One week, seven days. Not bad, I can do that.” You voice your thoughts out loud unknowingly. You see him check his phone, “I have to go. We can talk about this later.”
“Thats it? You're just leaving again? Dropping this on me?” You stand up, following him to the front door
“In case you weren't aware, I still have a company to run. Trust me I'm not thrilled about this at all, so don't get it twisted.” He says, looking down at you.
“Fuck you.”
He scoffs at you, “You’re fucking ridiculous.” he mutters before walking down to his car. You watch him for a moment before slamming the front door behind you. The pain in your chest doesn't go away, even when you tuck Layla in for bed that night.
-
“Holy shit–Yeah, you might actually be fried,” Sunghoon says, not bothering to ask before sitting down at his desk across from him. “What does that even–” Jake mutters, running his hand through his hair. Attention that was once on the laptop before him gone.
“All I'm saying is that this is not good, I mean when was the last time you two were actually together for more than one hour?” He doesn't respond
“Exactly.”
“I still haven't told her about the room situation.” Sunghoon laughs at that.
“So what? You’re just going to sleep in the same bed together” Jake nods, rubbing his eyebrows in thought “You gonna be able to resist then?”
“What do you mean–”
“You know exactly what I mean. Let's not forget the fact that every woman you’ve been mildly interested in represents her in at least one way.” Sunghoon says, bluntly.
Jake looks down at his computer, not even bothering to argue because it's true. He made sure of it.
“I don't know, okay?” he finally says, that makes Sunghoon do a double take
“Shit. I wasn’t expecting you to admit it.”
“Its not fair. Nothing about this is fair to her, to me. I just wish they would fucking stay out of it.” He mutters, almost to himself. Thinking back to when he first met you, he couldn't deny the immediate attraction he felt, but it all felt like this was just another thing given by his parents, you were just a task, a duty he had to fulfill.
“It’s going to be torture. Having to put up that front, that everything is okay. Making it believable to all of them. When this whole situations fucked up.” Jake says, standing up, looking down at the city from his office window.
“I can’t say I understand it man, but if I was you, I'd meet up with her. Tell her how it’s going to go, I mean.. maybe she won't make it a big deal, right?” Sunghoon suggests, shrugging.
Sunghoon also doesn't know you as well as he does.
—“No, I dropped her off an hour ago.” You put your phone on speaker before setting it down on the bathroom counter.
“So you’re home right now?” Jake asks, you roll your eyes.
“Why?”
“Just answer the question.”
“Mhm, I'm working from home.” you say, trying on some designer dress you bought specifically for Italy.
And yes, obviously you would be excited to go, It’s not like you actually have to be with Jake the whole time anyway. You can spend some time by yourself, or with Layla.
You slip off your bra, the braless look is better for this type of dress anyway. “-outside”
“huh?” you ask, completely forgetting you were on the phone. “Im outside” He says like its the most normal thing
“Wait what-” You look at yourself in the mirror and then back at your phone “Im at the door y/n, let me in.”
“Fuck, fuck–shit” you hiss
“What, do you have someone you don't want me seeing?” That pisses you off even more. You storm downstairs, swinging the front door open with an irritated look on your face.
His gaze drops to your feet, the miss matched socks, to the extremely short, almost see through dress, to your face, and then the messy pony tail on your head.
“Playing dress up huh?” He says, walking in. You scoff before shutting the door, watching as he walks into your living room and sits on your couch.
“What are you doing here? I already said Layla was at pre school.” You walk to the living room, standing in front of him “I need to talk to you about Italy.”
“Okay what about it?” you ask, attitude leaking from your tone. “And aren't you supposed to be at work?” You look down at him, his outfit, black dress pants, to the white button up.
“No, meeting got cancelled.” Even if he was the one to cancel it himself. He decided to come straight here after talking to Sunghoon.
“Okay, spit it out then.” You cross your arms over your chest, he lets out a quiet chuckle. God, you need to be put in your place so bad sometimes.
“I tried requesting a separate room, but my parents found out about it.” He says, casually unbuttoning his shirt collar “So what the hell are you trying to say?”
“You know exactly what I'm saying y/n.” He runs his hand down his face “Look– its one fucking week okay? Just play the part–”
“Of the perfect wife. Right.” You don't even bother sitting next to him. “We don't even have to talk to each other, I mean– when we get there we obviously have to see my mother and father, maybe the partners from America.”
He pulls out his phone “Great.” You watch him scroll through it. “This is a pretty big fucking deal for us y/n. Not everything is about you okay? You knew what you were doing the second you signed that contract five years ago.”
He stands up, gripping his phone tighter than normal in his hand. You open your mouth to speak–close it.
Jake immediately regrets his choice of words, of course you didn't know it would end up like this– separated family, separate houses–
“Y/n–” He drops his head, biting his lip in concentration “Get out Jake.” You watch the way his eyebrows furrow. You two stay there like that for a moment, in a silence, before he turns away from you. You only look at him when he speaks, his voice rough.
“I’ll message you more details later.” He says, shutting the front door behind him. You scoff, sitting down where he just was, trying to keep your cool, even if the very thing you want to do right now is slap his stupidly perfect face.
-
You refused to take his offer of being driven to the airport, which was probably really stupid considering you were literally going to ride in his private plane, While also staying with him in Italy, while playing the part of his wife.
So obviously you wanted to hang on to your last ounce of dignity, even if paying for parking at the airport was definitely avoidable.
You look for the woman that Jake said to follow once you got to the airport. Spotting her immediately since she stood out, young, pretty.
You recognized her from when you were dragged to past work events, ones that you left 30 minutes into after making your appearance as Jake's “wife”.
“Mrs. Sim,” She nods at you, offering to take your bags. “Thank you.” You reply shortly, falling into step beside her as she leads you to the plane, the very spacious one to be exact, from the brown leather reclining seats, to the marble accented ceilings.
You spot Layla immediately, she's sitting next to a man you recognize, Park Sunghoon. He's smiling down at something she said, holding one of her barbies in his hand. The woman next to you stares at him for a moment before facing you.
“Mr. Sim is talking to the Pilot, he wanted me to let you know this is your seat as well” She points to the window seat, among the many other ones, ah–so he's assigning shit to you now.
You set your bag down on it before walking over to Layla, “Hi angel” You smile down at her, her eyes lighting up the second she sees you “Mommy!” She yells in a high pitched tone, standing up in the seat and holding her arms out, you take her in your arms, hugging her back.
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Sim” Sunghoon says with a smirk, the tone he uses for your name hitting a nerve only someone as cocky as him could.
“You as well, Park.” Layla twirls a strand of your hair, before wiggling out of your arms, a sign she wants to be put down.
“Here you go Miss. Layla” Sunghoon hands her the fairy barbie in his hand, eyes looking past you to the woman you were talking to earlier..
You turn around, taking Layla to your seat.
Jake comes through the Pilots cabin shortly after, glancing down at you, his eyes softening when he looks at Layla beside you.
He stops at where Sunghoon and the other woman are sitting across from each other, both with their laptops out.
“You two do realise you don't have to work while we're on the plane. Save it for when we actually get to Milan.” He sighs,
“I just like to stay ahead.” The woman says, “Let's just say I'm feeling motivated.” Sunghoon adds, eyes not living Jake's other employee. “Yeah– okay, just don’t kill eachother.”
He rolls his eyes, walking back over to where you and Layla sit, you give her the tablet you occasionally let her use, along with her pink unicorn headphones, she happily takes it, leaning against your arm.
Your hand mindlessly brushes through her hair as Jake loosens his tie, his blazer discarded already. You look down at your outfit, a pair of nice fitted jeans, silk blouse, before looking back at him.
“Whats up with those two?” You ask, nodding behind you to where Sunghoon and Jake's other coworker sit. “Ever since I hired her, Sunghoon has had this– inferior complex thing going on.” He sighs, leaning against the cushioned plane seat.
“When they work together, they definitely get shit done, but when they argue it's annoying as hell.” Jake says bluntly, glancing down at Layla, whose focus is on her tablet.
“Oh, I see.” You reply quietly, looking out the window as the plane begins rolling for take off.
-
After an extremely long flight, and parting ways with Jake's coworkers, you finally arrive at his parents' estate in Milan.
“Just play the part” He nods at you, moving to open the car door and get Layla from the backseat. You two don't even have a chance to mentally prepare yourself when you walk in, to see Jake's mother and father both at the door.
Ignoring you and Jake, their focus immediately goes to your daughter “Princess!” His mother says, Layla skips over to her, giving her a hug, “Grandma! Grandpa! I missed you” She says, voice filled with joy, something that both you and Jake can't mirror no matter how hard you try.
His parents finally look at the two of you, “Nice to see you y/n.” His mother says, you smile tightly. “I need to talk to you son, it's about the partners from America.” His father says, giving Jake a pointed look, he fixes his posture, looking at you for a split second before following his father to his study.
“Mommy, you and Daddy will still come and see me right?” Layla looks up at you, eyes wide and childlike.
“Of course sweetheart, we just have important stuff to take care of” You smile down at her, before looking at Jake's mother for a split second, if you looked a little longer you would see the brief concern across her face.
She has no right to feel concerned for you though, considering she's one of the reasons you're here in the first place.
Jake shuts the door behind him, following his father to his desk in the center of the room. “My assistant got the dates wrong for when you were supposed to come.” His father says, eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
“What do you mean she ‘got it wrong’? You couldnt have let me know that before I flew my fucking family out?” Jake says, irritation written all over his face.
“I would have, if I knew. Park Jongseong landed a few hours after you, trust me this isn't ideal for either of us.”
“I need you to go to the Park international office headquarters before you and y/n head where you are staying. He expects you to be there, not for long, just to confirm meetings and etcetera.” His father says, leaning against the desk.
“This is a fucking mess.” Jake groans, running his hand through his hair. “Just get this done, there's going to be issues bigger than this when you actually fully take over the company son, take care of it.”
For some reason, that makes Jake even more upset. Hes fully aware of how this all ends up becoming his responsibility, hell, his whole fucking life has revoled around it, just a bunch of deals, negotiations, arrangements.
“I’ll handle it.” Jake straightens moving to the door, not looking back at his father as he approaches you.
“We need to go.” he looks at you for a brief second before he faces his mother and Layla in her arms. “Bye angel, mommy and daddy will come see you later this week okay?” His voice is gentle when talking to her
“Okay!” She says cheerfully, playing with Jake's mother's expensive diamond necklace, His mother leans up to press a kiss to his cheek, “Drive safe okay?” His mother says, giving him a look of warning.
“I know.” He sighs, walking towards the door, you give Layla one more kiss on her head before following him. Somehow it feels like all of this is a bad decision.
“Where are we going.” It's not a question, it's something you're demanding to know as he pulls out of the stone driveway of his parents estate.
You look at him, his tense jaw, to his hands that are gripped on the steering wheel dangerously tight. “The Park International Office.” He replies back, eyes not leaving the road. “Okay, drop me off before then.”
“No.”
You scoff, looking at him in disbelief “Why the hell not?” you ask, irritation leaking in your tone. The same tone he recognizes so well from when you two actually used to live together, even before you were pregnant with Layla.
“The faster we get this over with, the better.” His voice is stern, unmoving. “Fine. Don't expect me to be all enthusiastic and shit to meet your fancy clients.” You add a mocking flare to the last words, this time he actually looks at you, disbelieving.
“Gosh– I forget how fucking bratty you get.” He says, slight amusement leaking from his voice.
“Can’t forget how much of an asshole you are.” you reply back, rolling your eyes. He pushes his tongue against his cheek, gripping the steering wheel harder.
As he puts the car into park, taking off his seatbelt, he pulls his black framed glasses from the center console, putting them on. You try not to notice the way they sit perfectly on his nose bridge.
“Just play the part.” He says low, opening the door, walking over to open yours but you already got out the second he did. You smooth down your silk blouse, he reaches to hook his arm around yours but you pull back.
“Y/n.” you let out an annoyed sound before taking his arm, the touch foreign, yet almost comforting in a way you don't want to admit.
You see Sunghoon and Jake's other coworker once you enter the building, both with irritated looks on their faces as if they were arguing before falling into step beside Jake.
Sunghoon smirks down at you, before looking at Jake with his brow raised in a knowing look. You watch everyone's eyes follow a man, black hair, sharp features, even sharper jawline as he approaches you.
Jakes hand rests low on your waist, you feel the heat radiation off his palm through your shirt.
“Mr, and Mrs. Sim” He nods politely at you, before doing the same to Jake's coworkers out of respect.
Jake nods back “Mr. Park.” He nods back, you cant help but notice how the man in front of you also looks like he doesn't want to be here.
You stay by Jake's side, even as the man you now recognize as Park Jongseong speaks business, the woman from the plane writing down things on a glass clipboard, while Sunghoon joins the conversation with them.
You sigh, slightly annoyed, your performative exterior crumbling the longer you have to stand by his side.
What felt like hours, but was most likely only 30 minutes of having to perform as his ‘perfect little wife’ you two finally got to the place you were staying, an extremely nice estate, it was almost like a penthouse, overlooking the water.
You still don't understand why you and Jake couldn't have stayed at his parents estate, but you guess this is what everyone insisted on.
You shove past him to get in the room, ignoring the way he glares daggers at the back of your head, only to pause when you reach the bedroom.
He follows after you, letting one of the room service workers bring in your stuff. You both freeze, staring at the bed.
The rose petals covering the white comforter, you feel your cheeks flush when they land on the condoms, assorted to make some sort of heart on the nightstand, you quickly move, opening the drawer to shove them inside of it only for your whole body to still.
“What the fuck–” Your eyes meet a pair of handcuffs, next to them, a bottle of unopened lube.
You swear your whole body is on fire, “I-Is this some kind of like– sex resort?” You turn to Jake, gaping at him.
He looks like he's at a loss for words, hand clutched tight around the suitcase handle. You move past him to the room service workers who are bringing in your stuff.
“Hi, sorry, I think we have the wrong room, I'm confused with all the–stuff laying around.” You can't help the slight tremble in your voice, the woman unloads your suitcase off the carrier, before standing straight.
“Ma’am, this was booked specifically with the additions to it.” She says warily.
Jake follows out the bedroom, realisation dawning. Sunghoon.
He should have known better than to have the idiot be the one to book where to stay.
“Shit.” He mutters, before looking at the woman, and the other two who helped bring your stuff up here
“You may leave, Thank you.” He hands her handfull of money, you couldn't see how much, but from the slightly shocked look on her face, you knew it was more than needed.
The door shutting behind them, leaving you and Jake in a penthouse in Italy, alone.
One that practically screamed sex, you crossed your arms over your chest, giving him that look.
“Sunghoon booked it. I was busy with meetings– Fuck, I knew I shouldnt have let him.” He takes off his glasses rubbing the bridge of his nose in irritation.
“God, of course he would do something like this.” You look around, besides the..stuff, it was a really nice place, probably the nicest you could have gotten, but that was expected with how wealthy he was.
You sigh, not looking back before walking towards the bedroom to unpack your things.
His eyes follow you, trailing a path down your body, the way your jeans cling to your hips, swaying in a way that could make any man weak.
Example being the way some of the men in Park Jongseongs office eyed you down.
You looked around the room- hell, Even the bathroom held the same aura as the bedroom, built for something intimate.
The shower lining the back, completely open, besides the glass in the middle, one shower head on the left, and one on the right, a fair distance away from each other, the dark tile made it feel even more dangerous.
This whole place was just one big temptation, with Jake being the center of it all.
-
For being in the same penthouse as him, it was surprisingly easy to avoid each other. He mentioned something about Sunghoon, and this and that, in which you were half listening, half trying to ignore the way his short sleeved button up fit him.
There must be something in the air, there's stuff for that right? Perfume that makes you obnoxiously horny. Because that's the only reasonable explanation.
You finish blow drying your hair, running the detangling oil through it, the one that smells like fruits.
Checking the time, 9:48. Layla is probably already asleep, you open your phone, checking for any notifications, a part of you already knows who you're looking for.
“Im so fucked.” Jake groans, hair messy, glasses forgotten, the first few buttons on his shirt open, his tone chest revealed.
He takes the drink the bartender offered him, her hand grazing his at the exchange, Jake doesn't even notice it.
Sunghoon raises a brow at his state, looking at the woman behind the counter now serving a group of girls vodka shots.
The music isn't too loud, considering he specifically wanted a bar that wasn't meant for too much partying.
Jake looks around, the couples sitting down, happy, intertwined.
“Like I said, you just need some pussy.” Sunghoon mutters causally, looking as composed as ever.
“Yeah, hers.” Jake mumbles, making Sunghoon laugh, actually fucking laugh in his face. “I take it back, no amount of pussy is gonna save your ass.”
“Fuck Hoon– they even put flowers on the bed. Don’t even get me started on the handcuffs either.” Jake rubs his temple in irritation.
“Hey, it took some real convincing to get them to go all in with the kinky shit.” Sunghoon raises his hands in defense, like that makes it any better.
“What makes you think I even–”
“Trust me, I know. Real recognizes real.” He says through a smirk. Jake can't help but let out a huffed chuckle, filled with amusement, and also disbelief.
“You know, this is honestly your fault.” Jake levels his gaze, downing the rest of his drink.
“You sure you don’t just need someone to blame for your heart throbbing obsession with your baby mama?” Sunghoon says through that shit eating grin he wears when he knows he's right. I mean hell, he might just be.
Jake shakes his head, trying to get rid of any irrational thoughts, focusing on the truth, you want nothing to do with him in that way.
You probably hated him, most likely wouldn’t even be talking to him if it werent for Layla.
“Alright prove it then.” Sunghoon says, challenging. Jake raises a brow suspiciously, “That bartender right there in the tiny shorts, she's been eyeing you this whole time. You were too busy sulking about how much you want to fuck y/n to notice.” Sunghoon pauses for a moment, watching as Jake looks at the woman, her eyes locked on his before turning back to him.
“Flirt back, see where that leads you.” Sunghoon finished, downing the rest of his drink.
Jake chuckles, although there's no amusement filled in it, just straight up boredom. “Im not flirting with her, let alone fucking her.” Jake says, voice low.
Sunghoon's eyes light up immediately, victory gleaming in them. “Knew it.” He shakes his head, knowingly.
He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it as his screen lights up with a notification. Jake watches as Sunghoon picks up his phone, reading whatever it is, typing, sending, and standing up.
“We’ve been here for less than 24 hours and you already found someone?” Jake asks, a tone of exhaustion.
“You already know it.” Sunghoon offers a playful wink, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Don’t forget about the meeting we have with Park Jongseong either, The Prada ambassadors are also attending.” Jake says sternly, his voice he uses for business coming out.
“Yes, sir.” Sunghoon chuckles, leaning against the stool for a second “You good for tonight though?” he asks, slight concern around the edges.
“Yeah, I'm fine. I'm headed back soon anyway.” Jake says, giving him a tight smile, Sunghoon watches him for a moment, before parting ways.
Jake stays for about five more minutes before standing up and walking back to the penthouse– to you.
He's always been good about handling his alcohol, plus he didn't have much to drink anyway. So when you hear the sound of the door being unlocked, shut, and footsteps coming to the bedroom, you attempt to put on the facade of being fast asleep.
He walks in, closing the bedroom door shut behind him, eyes immediately on you, curled into the sheets like it was natural.
He doesn't know what comes over him when he walks over to your side of the bed, wanting to get a closer look at you, because it's been so.. so long since hes seen you like this.
He can't help himself when he brushes a finger over your cheek, it takes everything in you to stop your body from reacting.
“What are you doing to me..” He whispers, low, that you almost couldn't hear it. The slight smell of the crisp fresh air, his signature cologne, and faint alcohol lingering off of him.
He steps back immediately, touch gone from your skin, like you burned him, or like realisation finally dawned.
You don't open your eyes yet, You listen to the sound of his footsteps, descending away from you, moving to the bathroom.
You let out a breath, the one you've been holding ever since he opened the bedroom door, your heart beating rapidly, in a way it did when the boy you had a crush on in high school glanced your way. Childish, stupid.
The shower feels big, empty, even more so as the cold water hits his skin repeatedly, hardly helping with the burning of his body, or the way his dick throbs the second you invade his thoughts without permission, again.
He’s fucking pathetic, you have every right to hate him.
In this moment of him being alone, surrounded by the dark, the dimmed lights illuminating the cold bathroom, all he can think about is how he would do anything to go back in time.
Put his fucked up pride to the side, anything to not be in this situation right now, with this need– not just for anyone, not for some random woman, but for you.
Because it's something about you, not just because of Layla, not because you’re ‘forced’ to be in each other's presence, he can't deny it anymore.
He can’t deny that he’s utterly obsessed with you, and absolutely fucked. Just like Sunghoon said.
-
Falling asleep last night might have been one of the hardest things, considering you could practically feel the heat radiating off his body the second he slipped in the bed with you.
You stayed turned so you were facing the large balcony slide door, watching the moonlight seep in.
You didn't want it to affect you this much, but somehow it still did. So after finally getting the strength to get up, and get ready for the day, because you might as well attempt to enjoy being here in Italy.
You see Jake, standing up at the edge of the counter, taking a sip of some expensive coffee.
“Took you long enough.” He tries, and fails to hide the way his eyes roam down your body, the way the floral dress clings to you, it could be considered modest, but the way it hugs your curves, makes him think things he probably shouldn't.
You raise your brow in question, closing the distance to make yourself coffee as well. He places a mug in front of you instead, catching you off guard.
You turn to look at him, eyes scanning his face, the glasses sitting on top of his head to the rather simple outfit he's sporting today.
“Whats with you, do you want something?” You ask skeptically.
Fuck yeah he wants something, preferably you though, sitting on his face perchance?
“Am I not allowed to make coffee for the mother of my child?” He turns fully, using the counter as support to lean against.
You level your eyes even more, “I was going to head to the estate, see Layla, maybe we can take her out for the day.” He takes another sip of his coffee, brushing past you to place the mug in the sink.
“Together?” You ask suspiciously, confusion settling in your tone. “Yes y/n, together.” He says like it's the most obvious thing. Like you two do this all the time, when in reality you don’t even remember the last time he suggested something like this, if he even did.
“I mean we're both here, she's always going on about how she wants us both.” He offers lightly, watching the way your face softens.
“Okay then, for Layla.” You clarify, taking a sip of the coffee he prepared for you, the rich taste settling just right.
“We also have dinner in 2 days with Park Jongseong and his girlfriend.” He adds in casually. Washing the mug off in the sink.
Your brain pauses for a moment, processing what just came out of his mouth. “Knew you wanted something.” You chuckle, but it's humorless.
“Its one fucking dinner y/n.” he turns, facing you. “Yeah, and a whole week of being here, stuck with you.”
He opens his mouth to speak, closes it. “We can talk about this later. Right now let's focus on Layla.”
He says it like he's being the bigger person here. As if he's not dropping things on you left and right, and that irritates you even more.
But you don’t fight it, because a part of him is right, you two can stop your bickering for a few hours to spend time with your daughter.
-
“The purple one?” Layla asks, looking up at you, than at Jake, you glance down at the gelato in front of you, “One lavender please” You smile at the man behind the counter as he scoops it into a cone, “One lavender Gelato for you” He hands it to her, her eyes lighting up as she takes it,
“Anything for the happy couple?” He asks, eyes darting between you and Jake, you don't notice the way he stills beside you. “Can I get the Raspberry please?” The kind man nods, handing you the cone, some of it dripping on your hand due to the warm weather.
“Ill take the salted caramel” He pays for it, walking on the other side of Layla, “Should we sit at the table?” You ask Layla, looking down at her as she tries to keep up with the steps you and Jake take, her pigtails swaying with her, you smile at how happy she is.
“Yes!” Jake helps her up, taking the seat next to her, you settle for the one across from them.
Jake smiles at Layla, as she goes on about something related to her toys, and how ‘Hoon’ needs to come back and play as the fairy doll again, his eyes go to you, the light pink gelato dripping down your hand, the way your tongue darts out to lick it off.
It's like his body reacts before his mind does, he reaches over, swiping his thumb across the bottom of your lip, the gelato that dripped being cleaned up.
You freeze, eyes immediately on him. He retracts his hand immediately, “Sorry– you had something-” He stops talking when the sound of his phone cuts through, picking it up and reading whatever is on his screen.
“Are you done, Lay?” Jake looks down at Layla beside him, she nods, “Let me guess, you have somewhere to be?” You ask unsurprising.
“Its Park Jongseong and the Prada ambassadors— nevermind” He replies blandly, standing up and helping Layla, you chuckle, but not in amusement, or in surprise, because you knew this was going to happen anyway.
“Come on Lay, you know..” You smile down at her, before looking up at him, a certain glint in your eyes. “Daddy apparently has better things to do.”
You can feel his eyes boring into you, you don't look at him when you stand up and hold her hand. Who cares if it's childish, or bratty, you’re right anyway.
“I love you angel, be good okay?” You press a light kiss to Layla's forehead, Jake gives her a hug, before heading to the front door, you offer a tight smile to his mother before following after him.
You don't bother looking at him, or trying to talk to him once you're both in the car. You watch as Sunghoon’s name flashes across the screen, a call.
Jake looks at you for a second, before hesitantly pressing accept. “Final fuckingly man, had me thinking you actually got some–” “You’re on speaker Sunghoon.” Jake cuts through his words.
“Oh shit.. Uh– hey y/n” you can practically see the fake concern on his face. Jake sighs, urging him to continue
“Right so, Park Jongseong’s assistant said the Prada ambassadors are already at his office, they're just waiting on us.” Jake bites down on his lip, hard. “Fuck– okay, tell them ill be there shortly.”
“I got you, don’t get too distracted..” Sunghoon says through a chuckle before hanging up. You feel a slight blush coat your cheeks at that, turning your head more towards the window to avoid Jake's gaze.
Every few minutes, he can't help when his eyes shift to you, the faint sunkissed glow coating your skin, the way your dress clings to your body–
You regret the way you acted earlier, it was a little bratty, and petty..but then again you've always been, at least according to him.
He puts the car into park, unlocking the door, you don't say anything but before you step out, you turn your face towards him.
“About earlier.. It was uncalled for, I understand you’re busy, I shouldn't have said that in front of Layla.” You bite on your lip nervously, a habit he's noticed since the day your parents introduced the two of you.
He raises a brow, a playful smirk on his face “Are you apologizing?” He asks, eyeing you up and down
“What– I mean.. I-” You stumble over your words, making him let out an amused laugh “It’s fine y/n. I know I'm not the best..” He pauses, looking down for a split second to think of the right word “..arrange..ment.” he cringes at the end,
“I try for Layla, even with the shit from the company piling up.” His hand rests steady on the steering wheel, You watch his face, his eyes, taking in the sincerity.
“You’re a good father, Jake.”
You don't try to put on a forced smile, before stepping out of the car fully, shutting the door behind you, the second you're out of sight he buries his face in his hands, letting out a strangled groan. God– you’re killing him, so fucking slowly.
-
“Fuck– Ive been wanting to do this for so long” Jake says through a groan, pounding ruthlessly into you. You mutter something back, face buried into the soft pillows beneath you, not even caring about the saliva coming out of your mouth from how hard he’s fucking you.
“Want me to fill this pretty pussy up again?” he leans down, pulling your hair back to expose your neck, hips slamming into you, making your back arch against his chest. You're a moaning mess under him, his teeth nip below your ear, his free hand holding your hip, grounding you as his thrusts grow sharper—
Jake freezes at the door of the bedroom as soon as he opens it, eyes wide looking at you, the sheets tangled around the ends of your feet, almost your whole body exposed, the oversized T-shirt you're wearing ridden up to reveal a glimpse of your underboob, your light pink sleep shorts practically sticking to your core, a faint outline of your pussy visible even through the clothing layers with how wet you seem to be.
Theres no fucking way–
A whine escapes your lips, or was it a moan? He can't help but step closer, lingering at the edge of the bed, your body squirms, thighs squeezing together in a poor attempt to satisfy the throbbing heat between your legs.
The smell of you so fucking delicious, clouding his senses. He almost feels sorry for you, gosh you must be desperate if you're having a wet dream in the middle of your shared bed with him. You let out another small noise, or was it a word?
He brings his finger up, gently swiping away a bead of sweat from above your eyebrow, trailing down your arm, lightly over the curve of your exposed hip, leaning closer to hear you better
“J-Jake..” You whisper, barely audible, he stills, stepping back, running a hand through his hair.
Fuck this is wrong.. This is so, so wrong, He looks down at you again, biting his lip in thought.
He ultimately grabs the sheet, bringing it up from your feet to cover your body, trying to ignore the heat of your skin.
This cannot be real. He glances down at you one more time before going to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, leaning against it.
Letting the cool crisp air swallow him, anything to get rid of what he's feeling right now. He looks down, the hard bulge now clearly visible in his pants.
Bringing his hand down to palm himself through them, he hisses at the contact, how sensitive he is right now.
He wastes no time unbuttoning his shirt, discarding his pants and underwear next, stepping inside of the big shower, cool tile against his feet, he turns on the water, the warmth coating his skin.
The water drips down his body, he lifts a hand to steady himself against the black tile wall, bringing his other down to wrap around his thick cock, practically standing on its own, tip angry and red from how much he's neglected his own pleasure.
Pumping his fist once, a bead of pre cum slips out of the slit, mixing with the warm shower water as it drains beneath his feet.
“Fuck..” He groans, fucking into his fist faster, leaning his head back as the water falls onto his face, his mouth hangs open, he closes his eyes, trying to imagine what you were thinking about, fuck his name sounds so pretty coming from your mouth, especially like that.
His groans grow more ragged as he strokes himself faster, “y/n..” he bites his lip, hard enough to draw blood as his warm cum spurts out, coating the dark tile wall, dripping down, making a mess on his hand, he looks down, eyebrows furrowed as he attempts to milk every last drop, watching as the water washes it away.
He lets out a breathless chuckle, almost pitying himself and this whole situation.
The next morning you woke up to an empty bed, the bright sun shining in through the sheer curtains illuminating the bedroom.
Even in the shower as the warm water hits your skin, you couldn't shake the dream you had last night, how real it felt, the way he spoke, the way he touched you– the closeness of it all, so vividly in your reach.
You decided, well actually you were technically forced to use this day for yourself.
He was working. In all honesty, he didn't have to, but being with you again, alone, was killing him.
You were enjoying yourself, as one would do in Italy of all places, soaking in the warm sun on the balcony, book in hand when you got the text, the one that made your phone vibrate a little too loudly against the glass side table.
Something about it already told you it wasn't going to be good.
Jake: Client dinner tonight with Park Jongseong and his girlfriend. 7:00. Your dress is being dropped off now. I’ll be there at 6:45 to pick you up. Clean up for me, yeah?
You read the message once, twice, practically hearing the smugness in his voice at the last few words.
You type out a reply, delete it. He smirks down at his phone, seeing that you read it was enough.
Exactly 30 minutes later, the same woman from the airplane stands at the front door of the penthouse, garment bag in hand.
“Thank you.” You give her a soft smile, one that she attempts to mirror back, handing the dress to you. “Mr. Sim informed me you had the jewelry you needed, but if you need me too I can arrange–”
“It's fine.” You reply back dryly, she pauses for a moment “God, Sorry I'm just stressed” You fold the dress over your arm.
“Thank you, and yes I have everything I need.” You say, breathing out. She offers a tight lipped smile, giving a polite nod before walking back towards the elevator, you shut the door once she's out of sight.
“Oh my gosh–” you gape at the dress, fully taking it out of the garment bag, laying on the bed before you.
The dark red contrasts with the white sheets, the cut a little too deep for something like this. You glance at the time on your phone, 5:26, if you start getting ready now you should be done before he gets here.. You bite your lip, contemplating. No harm in starting early, you have nothing to do in the meantime anyway.
“Y/n–” Jake's eyes trail down your body, shamelessly, like he has the right– “You look..”
“Dont.” You hold your hand up giving him an almost strict look, while also suddenly feeling conscious of how low cut the dress is, the silk material soft on your skin.
He lets out a breathless chuckle, eyes staying glued to your chest without you knowing before putting the car into drive.
Park Jongseong, or Jay, as his girlfriend called him came in shortly after you and Jake sat down, the restaurant had a warm glow to it, truly an elegant place.
His girlfriend had the most genuine smile on her face. The dinner was going smoothly, as anything work related with Jake could be until she asked a question that had both you and Jake tensing beside each other
“So, How long have you two been married?” She asks sweetly, genuine curiosity in her eyes, you look at Jake for a split second, missing the way Jay squeezes her thigh, “Um- well we-” Jake interrupts quickly
“We had Layla four years ago, so around that.. Time.” He says, clearing his throat. The conversation quickly switches thanks to Jay.
The ride back was quiet until Jake decided to open his mouth. “Do you think I was too obvious?” He asks, eyes on the thin road before him, you turn your head from the window, looking at him, analysing the nervous way he brings his lip between his teeth, the slight movement of his jaw.
“What? About how we’re not actually the perfect, happy family you seem to paint us as?” You ask, a surprising calmness in your voice.
He shoots you a look, eyes dropping to your lips for a split second, before looking away just as quickly.
You scoff, “Anyone with half a brain could see.”
“Fuck is that supposed to mean?” He pulls the car into park, looking at you, expecting an answer.
“Im not doing this tonight.” You reach to open the car door but he stops your hand, grip tight, not enough to hurt, but enough to assert something deep.
“No. Tell me what you mean.” You shake off his hand, the heat of it too much on your skin, praying that he didn't notice the way your pulse spiked the second his skin made contact with yours.
You sigh, facing him fully.
“You don't act like my husband Jake. You never have, anyone could see that. Honestly, we're practically strangers at this point, the only thing keeping us together is Layla.”
You pause, trying to point out whatever emotion is flashing behind his eyes before continuing with a sigh, “Our marriage is a mere title, so dont be fucking shocked when it becomes clear as day to everyone else.”
“Y/n—“ he starts but you’re already leaning away. He doesn't stop you when you open the door, shutting it a little too hard behind you as you make your way into the building, the sole of your heels digging into your feet in a way that makes you want to throw them on the ground.
Jake slams his hand down against the steering wheel, running a hand through his hair, he turns off the car, locking it behind him before following you, because no way in hell is he ending the night like that.
Your heart is racing when you shut the door behind you, all while resisting the urge to sink to the ground.
You take off your heels by the door, immediately removing the unnecessarily heavy jewelry from your neck and ears.
You hold your hand up to your chest, feeling the consistent beating of your heart. The familiar click of the door lets you know Jake just walked in.
You stand up quickly, moving to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, acting as if it was another barrier between the two of you.
Without a thought you slip off the red silk from your body, letting it fall to the dark tiled ground. Walking into your side of the shower you turn on the water, letting it warm up enough till the steam is visible, you’re in need of anything to drown out how you're feeling right now, you step under it, letting the water fall into your hair, wetting your body, the steam clouds around you, almost creating a blanket in the open coolness of the bathroom.
You thread your fingers through your hair, letting the water seep into every bit of your scalp. The warm, dimmed light of the bathroom reflecting slightly off of the dark glossy tile wall before you.
Jake tosses his keys on the marbled counter, swinging open the bedroom door, only to find it empty.
The faint sound of water falling onto tile seeping out from under the bathroom door has his attention immediately.
He sits down on the edge of the bed, leaning against his knees.
God, he's going to regret this.
He stands up, taking off his tie with practiced ease, doing the same with his belt, untucking his white button up, and unbuttoning it halfway before opening the door to the bathroom, the fan does nothing to get rid of the steam filling the open space. The large glass wall is fogged up, he can almost see the outline of your silhouette if he squints.
You don't see him, or hear him, the only sound filling your ears being the water hitting your skin and the tile beneath your feet.
You turn to the side slightly, eyes closed, he traces the curve of your breast, swallowing before unbuttoning the other half of his shirt and discarding the rest of the clothes on the ground beside your dress.
He lets out a breathless chuckle, looking down at his flushed dick practically standing on its own from how fucking hard he is.
Jake steps in, turning on the shower head a few feet away from you, the new heat bringing a fresh cloud of steam to cover you.
He doesn't look at you as he steps under the water, letting it wet his hair. You watch him, a slightly stunned expression on your face “Jake–” The word comes out breathless, almost pathetic.
He chuckles low. “Y/n.” He glances in your direction, eyes staying on your face.
The awareness kicks in, that you're in the shower alone, with only a few feet of distance between the two of you.
You can't help your eyes, you really tried, but they trail down his body, his toned form.
Fuck, hes definitely been working out.
Your eyes ultimately land on his cock, watching the way the water drips down his body. The wetness forming between your legs has nothing to do with the shower water falling on your body, and everything to do with him.
He notices you looking, even with the barrier of steam between the two of you.
He doesn't bother turning off his shower head, closing the space between the two of you. His hand reaches out, not touching yet. Completely lost in the moment.
You let out a noise, it was supposed to be a word, maybe for him to stop?
No, it was definitely for him to keep going. When he speaks it comes out rough, uncontrolled, so different from how he speaks to everyone else. “Strangers huh?” You don't meet his gaze.
He brings his hand to your chin, forcing you to look in his eyes, his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, your mouth opening almost on command.
His cock jumps at the sight. The warm water soaks through your hair, the sensation of it forgotten with this new heat before you.
“Do strangers do this?” He brings his hand down, tracing your collar bone with his finger, you shudder at the touch.
He smirks at the way you're body reacts to his featherlight touches.
You gasp when his finger circles around your nipple smoothly. “Fuck, these tits are perfect” He brings his other hand up, repeating the motion on the other side.
You shudder, letting out a breathless sound, your nipples hardening from his teasing touch. “You’re sensitive huh?” He chuckles down at you, nudging his cock against your stomach.
“Shut up..” You’re cut off when he gives both of your nipples a firm pinch. “When was the last time someone touched you like this?” He asks, voice low, only for you to hear even though you’re alone.
He brings one of his hands lower, just past your belly button, pausing for an answer. You shake your head, closing your eyes.
“Come on mama, give me words.” He encourages sweetly even as his cock jumps at the sight of you before him like this.
“Not since you.” You whisper so low the sound of the shower water covers it. He shakes his head, inching down lower, cupping your soaking heat in the palm of his hand, you let out a moan, reaching both hands out, grabbing his veiny forearm to steady yourself.
He slowly rocks his palm against you. “Say that again.” He presses harder, reaching around to tilt your head back so he can really see.
“I said, not since you.” He lets out a sound that you definitely aren't mistaking as a moan.
“Fuck–” He bites back his words, hand still cupping you, your juices leaking past his fingers, blending with the warm water pooling beneath you both.
“So this whole time..” He pauses, removing his hand from your heat, earning a whimper from you, "..you've had nothing but these.”
He lifts your right hand up, brushing over your middle and ring finger, the touch gentle.
You nod, a slight blush creeping up your face, a part of you would feel a little embarrassed, maybe ashamed if not for the situation right now.
“Show me.” He urges, bring your hand down, he backs you up a few inches until your back is flushed against the cool tile walls, the warm water contrasting,
“You have to do it too then..” You look down at his cock, veins prominent, tip aching. He follows your gaze, smirking.
You two match each other's pace, you spread your legs ever so slightly, the best you can for standing up, rubbing small circles on your sensitive bud, the feeling even more exhilarating with him watching you so intently.
The little ‘ah’ sounds you’re letting out sending pulses straight to his dick. He brings his own hand down, swiping his thumb over the slit of his cock. Mouth hanging open as he wraps his hand around the base.
You feel yourself get even more wet at the sight, the desperate huffs he's letting out, his eyes don't know what to focus on, ultimately landing on your pussy when you push one of your small fingers in, the squelching noise so clear above everything else, he lets out a groan, a bead of pre cum leaking from his tip.
“Let me taste you” He breathes out, hand stopping your wrist. You freeze, looking up at him “Please..I- fuck, I need to.”
He brings your fingers up to his mouth, tongue darting out to lick before sucking them clean, the sight alone draws a wrecked sound from you.
“Jake..” You whisper out, dragging your fingers out of his mouth, smearing them on his chin, he looks so pathetic like this.
He reaches beside you, turning down the pressure of the water before lowering himself to the ground, his eyes never leave yours.
He lifts one of your legs, pressing a light kiss on your inner thigh, trailing smaller kisses closer to where you need him most, he rests your leg on his bare shoulder, completely exposing you to him,
“You dont know how fucking bad ive wanted this y/n..” He whispers breath ghosting over your slick folds. “..how much I've craved this, even all those years ago.”
You bump your pussy against his face and he wastes no time licking a stripe from your hole to your clit, you arch against the cool tile wall, pressing yourself even more on his face, his hands travel up your body, cupping your ass in his hands, palming the soft flesh, bringing you impossibly closer.
He's completely lost in you, not letting a single drop of your arousal leak anywhere except in his mouth.
His nose nudges your clit every time he fucks his tounge into your hole, “Yeah.. fuck, f-feels so good..” You bring your hands up, lacing them in his wet hair.
He mumbles something back, the vibration making your hips jerk, he brings one of his hands down from your ass, sneaking it up to replace his tongue with two of his slender fingers, the new feeling so different from your own fingers.
He looks up at you, the way your head is thrown back against the cool wall, mouth hanging open, fuck you’re beautiful like this.
He latches his lips onto your aching clit, flicking it with his tongue as his fingers work your tight hole.
You tug his hair harder, encouraging him without words, his fingers inside of you curl just right, hitting a spot that has you seeing stars, he sucks even harder on your clit, feeling your walls flutter around his fingers, greedily sucking them in.
A moan, almost a scream escapes from your lips as a fresh round of juices flood out of you, soaking the lower half of his face, he greedily drinks everything you let out, not letting a drop go to waste.
He lowers your leg back on the ground, pressing a light kiss to your thigh before leaving wet ones up your body, kissing his way along your jaw, your cheeks, your lip–
He pauses when he feels your body tense against his. His lips less than an inch away from yours.
“Whats wrong–” He leans back slightly, eyes darting across your face “I..I cant” He tilts his head, hands still on your waist but a confused look washes over his face
"I'm not going to force you to do anything mama, but why?” He searches your eyes for an answer “Jake– we haven't even kissed since the wedding”
“Y/n, you just let me eat you out, which to be fair I would do it a thousand times more, but a kiss is too much for you?”
You bring your hands up, burying your face in them “Fuck, I know okay? We were just caught up in the moment–” You don't see it, but he's looking at you with genuine sadness, not because you won't go any further, but because you’re not even comfortable enough to do so,
“Baby-” he starts, bringing his own hand up to pull yours from your face but you stop him, moving around, too ashamed to even look in his eyes.
“We can just forget this happened okay?” His hands fall to his sides, “But-”
“Please, I–I can't go through it again.” Your voice cracks, a pain sharpening in your chest.
He opens his mouth to speak but you turn before he can, grabbing a towel from the nicely folded pile, the water feels cold now, almost limp as he stares at the spot you were just standing in.
He licks his lips, the faint taste of you still lingering.
He curses himself for acting on instinct, it was too fast and he knew it. But how couldn't he? You’re irresistible, the only constant desire in his life that never fades. So no, he's not just going to ‘forget this’.
He'd be stupid to.
-
You try to ignore Jake's eyes on you throughout the plane ride, focusing on anything except for him, whether it's Layla showing you something on her I pad, or Sunghoon and Jake's other coworker bickering over something useless.
It's best to just pretend like nothing happened, so treating him the exact same as you did before this trip is the best way to do that.
You grab your bag from the overhead bin, helping Layla put her dolls in her small backpack, moving to get off his plane without a word, when he grabs your wrist.
“Sunghoon.” He says, eyes not leaving yours for a second. Sunghoon closes the distance, “Take Layla to y/ns car.” he nods before picking her up, Jake's other coworker follows after.
You turn fully to look at him, arms crossed over your chest in annoyance. “What?”
“I’m not forgetting what happened.” His eyes drop to your lips, making it known he's looking.
“Well I am.” you try to reply calmly, composed. But there's a slight tremble in your voice, one that he doesn't miss. Something washes over his face.
He straightens his shoulders “Okay.” Is all he says before brushing past you, leaving you in the middle of the wide aisle.
Him with the last word, one that you're trying to make sense of. Because there was so much more hidden underneath it, a part of you doesn't even want to know.
You see Sunghoon crouching down to Layla's level, saying something that makes her giggle. He stands when he sees you, a cocky smirk plastered on his face.
“See you later Mrs. Sim.” You roll your eyes, opening the car door to help Layla get inside, closing it.
“Park.” You call out, Sunghoon stops, turning slightly with an eyebrow raised in question.
“Make sure he doesn't do anything reckless.”
He lets out a low chuckle, looking at the ground before his focus is back on you. “I can try, but I can’t promise anything.” Is all he says before offering his infamous wink, hands tucked nonchalantly in his suit pant pockets, walking away.
-
Everyone has different ways of coping, sulking around could be one.
But that was never something Jake found relieving. So here he is, at some club with none other than Park Sunghoon.
“You’ve got this sexy dad look about you..” Some girl, who he doesn't even remember the name of says, fingers brushing over the collar of his shirt along the thin silver chain that clings to his skin.
Jake's attention is brought back to her, she's a pretty girl, short black hair, but nothing she's saying is interesting to him.
She presses closer to him, purposely positioning her tits on his arm, teasing. She thinks she's being subtle but it's painfully obvious.
He looks over her shoulder, at the dance floor where Sunghoon has his hands on some blonde girl's waist as they practically dry hump each other.
He chuckles, the girl in front of him beaming proudly, thinking she's the one who made him laugh.
“Do you wanna maybe..” The girl leans in close, standing on her tip toes to reach his ear, lips grazing “..get out of here?”
He looks down at her, boredom plastered on his face. “No.” Is all he says, the girl raises her brow, offended.
Jake takes another sip of his drink, not even sure what one he's on. She scoffs, stepping back from pressing against him
“What do you mean ‘no’?” She asks accusingly. “No, as in I don't want you.” He states in an obvious tone.
Sunghoon curses under his breath whispering something into the ear of the woman he's dancing with before walking through the crowd effortlessly to get to him.
“Fucking—” She yells, a little too loudly, to the point where Sunghoon can hear it a few feet away, and heads are turning towards the scene.
Jake rolls his eyes, “Im not interested.” He shrugs, downing the rest of his drink, the girl straightens to say something else, but Sunghoon cuts in between the two.
“Alright, I think it's time for us to go!” He says a bit too energetically, hand resting on Jake's shoulder. The girl rolls her eyes “Your friends an asshole.” She mutters before walking away to go flirt with some other guy, Sunghoon turns, facing Jake completely now.
“What?” Jake asks, like it's completely normal.
“Dude, you were the one who said you ‘needed some pussy to take your mind off things’ and when a chick practically throws herself at you, literally by the way, you reject it?”
Sunghoon looks Jake up and down like a mad man, "She's not her.” Jake mutters, voice low, as if you could hear him talking right now.
Sunghoon chuckles, actually fucking chuckles at his state. “Oh I see, let me guess, you did some shit, right? Thought with your dick instead of your head?”
When he doesn't respond, Sunghoon laughs in his face. “I should’ve known, man.”
“I fucked it up.” Jake groans, running his hand through his tousled hair, down his face, the slight stubble that he let grow a few weeks after the Italy trip scratching his hand roughly.
“You didnt fuck her right?” Sunghoon asks, an unfamiliar seriousness in his voice. “What– thats” “Okay thats answer enough.”
“Maybe try actually sitting down, having a conversation?” Sunghoon suggests, trying his best with advice.
“She won't even look at me, and besides that she acts the same. But it fucking hurts.” Jake sighs, leaning against the bar counter.
Sunghoon watches him for a few seconds, making a ‘yikes’ face “Damn, you really got it bad huh?”
Jake pulls out his phone from his pocket, fingers finding their way to your contact, he clicks on the messages, the last thing in the chat being a photo of Him, Layla, and you eating Gelato in Italy together.
In the photo, someone might actually think he had the perfect family, beautiful wife, and daughter. If only they knew.
Jake types something, fumbling over the keyboard, Sunghoon looks down at the phone, eyes widening
“Absolutely fucking not.” He snatches the phone from Jake's hand earning a glare “I need to talk to her.” Jake says firmly.
“Not when you’re wasted like this” Sunghoon chuckles, tucking the phone in his own pocket. “Give me the fucking phone Hoon.”
“No, because you’re literally going to kill me tomorrow for letting you text her.” Sunghoon backs up a step, Jake takes a step forward.
“Or I could now for not letting me text her.” Jake levels his gaze on him, “Alright fine” He says finally, pulling out the phone from his pocket
“Let me do something first though” Jake watches as he types something random on his phone, multiple times before realising “You fucking–” Jake snatches his phone back,
iPhone Unavailable
Try again in 3 hours
“Whoops” Sunghoon shrugs, before his attention is pulled from the same blonde girl from earlier tapping his shoulder, Jake watches as his flirty persona immediately makes a comeback
“Bathrooms empty if you wanna..” Jake blocks out the rest of the words, signaling the bartender to come over “Do you guys have a phone I could borrow?” He asks, genuine curiosity in his tone, the younger man nods, handing him one from the counter.
Sunghoons eyes turn back to Jake for a split second to see him dialing your number “Fuck– fuck, no.” He snatches the phone from him, cursing before turning to the girl he was just talking to,
“Gimme a few minutes okay baby?” Sunghoon says to the girl, she blushes and nods, his attention goes back to Jake and the phone immediately.
“Hello?” You say confused, sitting up in bed, trying to see if you heard the words right.. Maybe someone accidentally called your number?
Sunghoon curses, glaring at Jake who shrugs with a cocky shit eating grin on his face. “Yeah, hey Y/n.” Sunghoon says, defeat evident in his voice. “Park?” You ask, now fully seated up in your bed.
You turn up the volume, the faint sound of music and chatter in the back, but the sound of him bickering with someone covers most of it, you only catch every other word–”Give me–the phone!” You sigh
“Park what's going on?” You hear him groan on the other end, and persumabley Jake say something along the lines of “Fuck you”
“Sorry! Wrong number” Is all you hear before the line goes blank, you look down at your phone in confusion.
“Yeah, we're leaving now.” Sunghoon says, turning to the blonde girl who was definitely about to be his fuck for the night.
She looks up at him, hope gleaming in her eyes, but frowns when he says he has to go.
“You’re so fucking lucky to have me, I actually just saved your ass.” Sunghoon mutters, “Maybe I should just email her..” Jake contemplates, saying his thoughts out loud, tapping his screen to see there's 2 hours and 48 minutes left on his phone.
“Okay noted, take away the computer too.” Sunghoon shakes his head, chuckling.
-
Holy fuck. Is all you could think of when Jake answers his front door, grey sweatpants, and black fucking compression shirt out of all things on. Hair tousled, slick with sweat.
You should have known coming to drop off Layla in the morning wasn't a good move, especially since Sunghoon's car was also in the driveway.
He chuckles at your reaction, like he knows something you don't. “Daddy!” Layla says, practically jumping into Jake's arms as if she wasn't falling asleep in the car a few minutes ago.
You tighten your grasp on her light pink backpack, Jake moves for you to step in, “You missed me Princess?” He asks in a gentle tone.
You walk to the open kitchen, but pause when you see Sunghoon, dressed in familiar attire to Jake, pouring what is probably a protein shake into two different cups.
He doesn't look up to know it's you. “Hoon!” Layla wiggles out of Jake's arms, running over to Sunghoon who just laughs at her, “Mommy, can I have the mermaid doll please!” She asks, looking up at you with those adorable brown eyes, the ones that look just like Jakes.
You can't help the smile that lights up your face before getting them from her bag. She giggles before looking up at Sunghoon who sets down his shake.
“Well Miss. Layla, im ready when you are” He says, taking the doll from her and going to the living room where Jake has her toys set up.
Jake lets a small laugh slip at the interaction. You bring your attention back to him, his eyes take in your clothes, from the business pants, to the blazer that fits you all too well.
“Okay, um– don't forget she has ballet lessons twice a week.” You bite your lip, trying to conceal how fucking nervous hes making you right now.
I mean, who even looks that good after the gym, gosh you shouldn't be thinking like this right now. Especially with everything–
“Y/n.”
“No.” You feel your heart racing as the word comes out, “I haven't even said–” He starts “Jake.”
“mama, please let me talk to you..” He closes the distance between the two of you, you try not to show a reaction at the name, the one he called you that night, the night you can't seem to forget.
You peak over his shoulder to see Sunghoon sitting on the ground with Layla, playing with the dolls. “Not here, not when she can hear.” You say quietly.
He nods, walking upstairs to his office, catching Sunghoon's eye, who just cocks a brow at him.
“Okay, what's so important.” You shut the door behind you, watching as he leans over his desk, back to you.
He turns to face you, "I'm sorry for the other night, calling you like that was immature of me and as Layla's father I shouldn't have–”
“Yeah, I know.” You interrupt, crossing your arms over your chest.
“I'm trying to apologize here y/n.” He sighs frustratingly, as if this is some chore or task he has to do.
“No, you’re trying to make yourself feel better.” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation, “You would think someone who was going to inherit a billion dollar company in the next year would know better, but no–”
“Im fucking trying here okay?!” He lowers his voice, trying to avoid getting into an argument loud enough for Layla to hear, even though the room is already noise cancelling.
“Thats the same shit ive heard since I was 13 years old y/n, its fucking drilled in my mind.” He steps closer to you, towering over your frame.
“Everything, planned, laid out, my whole future already decided the second I came out the womb.—So yes, I'm aware of what I inherit, I'm aware of the responsibilities I have.” You open your mouth to speak, but close it when nothing comes out.
He continues, “I know I fucked up–” He pauses, resisting the urge to pull you in, cling to you, because as of right now, even if you hate him you’re still the only thing he sees as an anchor in his life.
“—And not just the other night. In Italy, I shouldn't have, it was reckless and-”
“Jake.”
“-and stupid, you just- I couldn't resist you”
“Jake!” You cut through his words like a knife. The only sound in the room being your trembling voice, and his unsteady breath.
“Dont do this to me. Not right now.” You clench your fist to steady the way it shakes. “Y/n, please– you wont let me any other time besides when either one of us drops off Lay.”
“Because you’re her father Jake! That's all you are. It might say you’re my husband on paper, but you’re not. We dont owe eachother anything, and you made that very fucking clear 5 years ago.” You watch his eyebrows furrow in the way a lost puppy would, an almost pleading look in his eyes.
You bite your tongue, regretting the way the words came out. It takes everything in you to not crumble to the floor, right here in front of him.
Something shifts in his eyes, he takes a step back from you, distancing himself as much as he can in the confined space.
He doesn't look at you as he turns his back to you, leaning against his desk.
“You know the way out.” He says over his shoulder, tone cold. “Jake..” you whisper
“You know the way out.” he repeats more firmly. You watch him for a moment, before turning and walking out.
It takes everything in him to not take back his words, to beg you to come back for him to say sorry a thousand times if he has to.
-
That night, you still couldn't get the interaction out of your head, you don't know how many times you tossed and turned in your empty bed, the silence of the house unbearable.
Even throughout the week, it replayed. The look in his eyes, the shift in his face when he told you to get out.
You know he works hard, you know he is a good father. And you definitely know what it's like to have your life laid out for you.
So walking through the front doors of the company building wasn't exactly a part of the plan, but it's like your feet were carrying themselves.
The bright daylight shining through the completely glass walls, the city streets bustling outside as usual.
As you walked to the front desk, heads turned towards you, some whispering, some silently observing.
“Mrs. Sim?” You hear a familiar voice say, walking towards you, You don't have to look to know who it is.
“Park.” You say, turning to face him, leaning against the front counter. “What a surprise.” He can't hide the smug grin on his face as he approaches you. “Im here to see Jake.”
“Oh, you mean you’re not actually here just to see the office?” His tone is laced with sarcasm. You roll your eyes.
“I was just heading up there, come on.” He chuckles, “But I need to inform Mr.Sim–” The woman at the front desk starts, “Greta, baby, It's the Bosses wife we're talking about here.” You roll your eyes, “Don’t give us a hard time m’kay?” he says sweetly, winking down at her. You watch as she blushes, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
You follow after him, stepping into the elevator. “You’re actually disgusting." You cross your arms over your chest, glancing sideways at him.
“What? It's not my fault they can't resist my charm.” Sunghoon shrugs, adjusting his tie.
The elevator dings, signaling its reached the top floor, you look at him, but your eyes drop to the hint of color below the collar of his white button up.
Your brow raises, squinting to see the slightly red hue of it. “First door past the window.” He nods down the hallway, stepping out of the elevator.
You watch him for a split second, but he pauses when you call after him “Park.”
He turns to look at you, humming in response “You got a little something.” You say, pointing to his collar, he looks down, and you notice his frame immediately still.
You offer one of those too sweet smiles before making your way down the hall.
Your hand hovers over the door, before finally knocking. Jake assumes it's one of his assistants so naturally he says a steady “Come in.”, accent sharp and cutting through your train of thought.
You inhale once before opening the door. He doesn't look up until the door clicks shut behind you, and when he does, his face shifts.
“Y/n– what are you doing here?” He doesn't know why he stands, but he does anyway, hands braced on his desk, you look around his big office, the dark brown leather couch, to the tall bookshelves, and the window with a perfect view of everything 50 stories below.
You try not to stare too much.
“Um- well I just wanted to make sure you knew about Layla's ballet recital in a few weeks, they just sent the email out so.. Yeah.” You cringe slightly at the words, and with how obvious you are.
He raises a suspicious brow at you, “So you drove here, to the same building you haven't bothered visiting in 5 years, just to tell me something that was sent in my email.”
It's not a question. “Well- I.. you know,” He can't hide the small smirk that plays on his lips
“I–” You pause, trying to regain your composure. “I wanted to..apologize.” You watch his reaction, the curious tilt of his head.
“Apologize?” he rounds his desk, leaning against the front of it, arms still crossed over his chest, assessing you.
“For the other day.. In your study.” You try not to cringe at the memory, “And for Italy.” Something flashes over his face
“Y/n–” he starts “No. Let me finish.” He shuts his mouth immediately and you continue.
“I said some hurtful things that night, In the..shower.” You avoid his gaze “It was wrong for me to use you like that.” His tongue runs over his lips, remembering the taste of you that night.
“And then in your study, when you tried apologizing to me– I didn't mean to go off on you like that, and I know you’re trying, I know the pressure you feel, and with everything you said about your life being planned–”
He's watching you closely as you speak, not interrupting. “But God, Its so fucking hard to forget Jake. I try so hard, for Layla—You look at her with so much love. And then you look at me, like I'm a– task.. A chore?”
You question your choice of words. “And it hurts so fucking much.” You breath out, the words rough and vulnerable.
You blink back the tears threatening to pour out, his hands fall to his sides, and it's like his body moves before his mind can process it.
He closes the distance between the two of you, pulling you towards him , one hand wrapping around your back, the other cradling your head against his chest, resting on the top of your head.
“Jake..” You say through a trembling breath, hands clawed at his chest. “Shh mama, I got you.” he whispers, his thumb rubbing small circles on your back.
He pulls back, "I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to hurt you–I.. Fuck” He runs his hand through his hair, taking a step back to breath.
“You cloud every thought in my mind y/n. Every single day, every single hour, I can't stay mad at you for the life of me. Im—Im really not good at this..” he looks down at you, biting his lip nervously
“I don't think you understand how bad I regret how I treated you, How I made you feel.” He steps closer again, “I was– no I am an asshole. God, you have every right to hate me.” He chuckles but it's humorless
“Jake.. I don't hate you..” He meets your eyes at that, looking at you, really looking at you, the shared vulnerability between you two right now in this moment.
Your hand moves from your side, hesitating before cupping his face in your hand, he leans into the touch immediately, his eyes fluttering shut at the contact.
“I can't get you out of my head y/n.” He turns his head to press a gentle kiss to your palm, a small gasp leaving your lips at the intimacy of it.
“Im sorry, I know we have a lot to work on—but please..” He whispers, holding your hand in his, moving it to press a kiss to your wrist, just above your pulse point, feeling how rapidly your heart beats.
His eyes don't leave yours. “I'm sorry..” He whispers again, lower this time, trailing small kissing along your arm, those same words leaving his lips in between.
His other hand slips to your waist again, pulling you closer, He cups your face in his hand, threading his fingers through the back of your hair, shutting his eyes, leaning against your forehead.
“Im so fucking sorry.” he breathes out, ghosting over your lips, you tilt your head up slightly, letting your lips graze over his. “Baby..”
You close the distance between your mouths, lips pressed firmly against his, he pulls you closer, running his fingers through your hair more deeply, his other hand gripping your waist as if you were the only thing grounding him, your lips move together in a rhythm, his tongue runs along your bottom lip, begging for more access, you grant it and he groans into your mouth, eyebrows furrowing.
His tongue explores your mouth, tasting you. He pulls back, a string of saliva connecting between the two of you, “Please..” He begs, looking between both of your eyes, an almost pathetic look on his face.
You tilt your head “Please forgive me, y/n” He brings his hand down from out of your hair, gently rubbing small circles on your neck, tracing his thumb over your exposed collar bone, the touch electric. “I–”
A sharp knock on the door has you two pulling away from each other like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't.
“Mr. Sim, I just wanted to inform you we have an online meeting with Park Jongseong in five minutes” A shy voice says from the other side, he watches you, the way you stare at your feet, he tries not to smile at your clear nervousness.
“Have the notes ready, let them know I'm coming.” He says, voice back to that professional tone.
He leans down one more time, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before opening the door to his office and walking down the hall to the meeting room.
Once the door shuts behind him, you bring your hand to your heart, the rapid beating of it pounding against your palm.
You trace your lips with your fingers, still trying to process what just happened, and what's going to happen..
Jake turns the corner of the hallway, to see Sunghoon, leaning against the wall, his eyes trace over Jake's form.
“What the hell happened to you?” Sunghoon says through a knowing smirk, “Dont.” Jake replies, straightening his tie and walking into the meeting room. Sunghoon raises his hands innocently, following after.
-
As soon as Jake got out of that meeting the first thing he did was pull out his phone, shutting his office door behind him, but pausing to inhale the faint smell of you, your sweet, sweet perfume and hair wash lingering in the air.
“Jaeyun?” His mother says into the phone curiously, “An important event came up, do you mind watching over Layla tonight?” He asks, knowing exactly what the answer will be, if anything he's surprised she didn't beg him to let Layla come over. His parents even have a room specifically for her on the rare occasion she go to their manor. “Yes!” she says eagerly, Jake chuckles, “Alright, I'll drop her off in a few.” He says briefly before hanging up.
The feeling of his lips still lingered on yours even hours later. The memory of them causing a warm feeling to pool in your belly.
You tried to distract yourself, you really did. But not even working could make you focus. Slipping on your soft robe, you shuffle around your house, eager to take a bath, maybe that would help ease the consistent throbbing in between your legs.
You were just about to untie it when a ring on your doorbell took you by surprise, you checked the time on your phone, 8:23..
You make your way downstairs, opening the door, freezing. “What are you..” You swallow, “What are you doing here?” a nervous excitement slipping through your tone.
Jake takes a step forward, eyes not leaving yours as he shuts the door behind him. “Where's Layla?”
“With my parents.” he replies, eyes trailing down your frame shamelessly, taking in the way your thin robe does nothing to conceal whats underneath. His tongue darts out for a split second, wetting his lips.
Your eyes fall to his attire, wearing the same dress pants he had on earlier, blazer gone, white button up rolled up his forearms. He chuckles at the way your eyes drag along his arms, bringing your attention back to his face.
“You still didn't answer me.” He tilts his head, studying you. “What are you doing here?” He takes another step forward, crowding you in the entrance of your home.
“You think after what happened today, I was going to just leave you alone?” His eyes drop to your lips.
“Well– I mean.. I didn't know you were going to just show up..” His eyes fall to the way you nervously play with the end of your robe.
“Mama, of course I did.” he brings his hand down over yours, stilling it so you could stop fidgeting.
“I wanted to see you.” He says confidently. He sighs, defeated, even though you haven't even said anything back. “wanted to touch you.”
His hand comes up, brushing his thumb softly along your cheek, you lean into it. “I want you–” He pauses, breathes–“I want you so bad.”
His eyes search yours before continuing “So bad that I can't fucking concentrate anymore, I can't think straight—“
“The idea of you not wanting me back–not loving me back, makes me sick.” You both freeze at the words, he opens his mouth to speak, closes it.
“I- fuck..” He pulls his hand away from your face, you stop it, placing yours above his. “I want you too, Jake.. I– I love you.” The second the words leave your mouth, something shifts in his face.
His other hand comes up to the other side of your face, holding you like you’re something precious.
“You don't know how long I've wanted- No, I've needed to hear that.” He tilts his head down, lips ghosting over yours, your lips part instantly
“I love you baby.” He whispers before pressing his lips to yours.
You immediately melt into the kiss, giving him access to your mouth, his hand cups the back of your neck, holding you closer.
He kicks off his shoes, lips never leaving yours, you wrap your arms around his neck as he guides you backwards, you stumble back slightly, his hand immediately wrapping around your waist, you giggle against his mouth, earning a laugh from him.
You gasp as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his hips, his hands splayed on your ass. He makes his way up the stairs with you, carrying you with ease.
His lips crash against yours again, backing you up against the wall, you roll your hips in his hold, grinding against his hardening bulge in his pants.
“Fuck ma—you’re killing me..” He breathes, biting your bottom lip, a whimper escaping your lips at that.
“If I wasnt such a gentlemen, I’d fuck you right here, on your floor.” The dirty words have you grinding harder against him, he chuckles
“You’d like that huh?” You nod, a little bit too frantically, instead he walks further down the hall, in your bedroom, he kicks the door shut behind him, laying you down on the bed.
“No, I wanna take my time with you.” He presses a light kiss to your lips, savoring your taste. “Jake–please..” It comes out breathless.
“Please what?” he teases, hand coming up to wrap around your throat, not to hurt you, more to claim.
He trails it back down, to the loosely tied knot of your robe. “Want you to fuck me..” You plead, squirming.
He smiles at that, pulling the string of your robe, causing it to fall open limply, he sucks in a sharp breath at the sight of you, laid out for him like this, like his next fucking meal.
He peels it off your body, tossing it to the ground, leaving you bare. “So needy, hm?” He parts your legs, nearly groaning at the sight and smell of your slick pussy.
You whimper at the cold air nipping your skin. He brings his hand down, cupping your breast in his hand, kneading the soft flesh
“I love these tits so fucking much” He says almost to himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers, his other hand comes up, repeating the motion on your other, making sure no part of your body feels neglected.
He bites his lip at the delicious sounds leaving your lips, the pathetic light moans.
You expect him to undress next, but instead he kneels down, hitting the soft carpet, right between your spread legs, you prop yourself on your elbows, not wanting to miss a single moment of seeing him like this.
His eyes close, like he's already gone, licking a sensitive spot on your inner thigh, sucking on it gently, making sure to leave a mark.
Your mouth hangs open, letting soft moans leave your lips, he can't help the smirk that covers his face at how you’re not being shy with him.
He takes his time, leaving marks on your inner thigh, teasing you even more, while also making you even more wet.
His eyes lock on your glistening cunt, “This all for me?” He chuckles, earning a groan from you, he blows on your puffy clit, enjoying how your hole clenches around nothing, the way you’re already throbbing.
You whine at his teasing, “Shh mama, wanna make you feel good.” He uses his hands, pushing your thighs farther apart, giving him even more access.
Your eyes roll at the first lick, sensual, gathering your juices on his tongue, his eyes flutter shut at the taste of you, how fucking natural it is.
One second its slow licks, the next he's diving in, devouring you. His nose bumping your clit as his tounge works your hole, he looks up at you, your absolutely fucked out face before focusing back on your pussy. Your juices coating the bottom half of his face.
He brings his attention back to your clit, taking the sensitive bud between his lips and sucking with such precision it has your back arching off the bed, hands flying to his hair.
He groans at the feeling of you tugging on the strands, sending a vibration straight to your core. He flicks his tongue on your clit, rolling the sensitive bud with the wet muscle.
bringing one of his hands down from your leg, watching how your pussy reacts as he rubs small circles on your clit.
You watch as he gathers some spit in his mouth, spitting right on your aching clit.
“So pretty,” He says quietly, mixing the spit with your juices leaking out, He pulls you even closer, hands tightening around your thighs, mouth closing around your pussy, making out with it messily.
“Fuck..Jake–” You cry out, gripping the sheets at your sides, He looks up, watching the way your breasts move with each movement, making his cock throb in his pants even more.
He gives your hole a teasing lick, before plunging his tounge in, greedily fucking it in and out of you, he feels you clench around him. Burying his nose closer against your clit, applying the right pressure that has your hips bucking as you come on his face, you bite down on your lip, trying to conceal the moans leaving your mouth.
He greedily laps up everything you let out, your slick coats his chin, his mouth, the sheets beneath you, but he loves every second of it.
Your legs fall spread limply, he stands up, unbuttoning his shirt, and his pants, discarding his clothes like they're useless, which in this case–they are.
His eyes are trained on the reddish purple marks coating your inner thighs. “Jake..” You breathe out, watching the thin silver chain glint under the dim light.
He pauses, looking at you curiously, “You still have it?” you point to your neck, and his fingers touch the chain, “I never took it off baby.”
Your mind goes back to when you gave him that necklace, it was when you were pregnant, and you felt like you had to get him something for helping you out so much, even with the arrangement. He had told you he didn't need anything, but you insisted.
He shifts and your attention is immediately back on the present.
You watch him slide off his boxers, his cock springing out, hanging heavy, thick, veins prominent, similar to the ones coating his hands and forearms.
You let out a sound as your eyes lock on the bead of pre cum leaking out of his flushed pink tip. He leans down, lifting your hips to move you farther up the bed before climbing on top of you.
He strokes his cock, one, twice, the pre cum leaking down his length, Your hips buck up, chasing any form of friction you can.
“Hm, you’re so cute when you’re all needy.” He chuckles, nudging your sensitive clit with his tip, smearing his precum.
“Jake.” You meant for it to come out more firm, but it comes out with a whimper to it. “You want me to stuff you full mama?” He coons, tone playful.
He slaps his dick down once on your puffy folds, before guiding his tip to your entrance. He barely pushes the head of his cock in before letting out a choked groan, “Fuck, you’re tight.” He grunts, hands clasping around your hips, anchoring him.
“Breathe for me yeah?” He looks at your face, eyes leaving the delicious sight of you trying to adjust to his size.
You nod, attempting to ease yourself, he slides in some more, your pussy clamping around him tightly, he hisses at the feeling, so warm and wet.
“Loosen up for me mama..” He breathes out, thumb traveling down to apply pressure to your clit, he pushes in slowly, you moan when he bottoms out, his tip nudging that spongey spot inside you.
It takes everything in him to not come right now, like some fucking teenager.
“Fuck– you’re squeezing me–” He leans down, pressing a kiss to your jaw, before sliding out halfway, setting a slow pace that has his balls tightening.
His lips hover over yours as you both let out pleasureful sounds, “F-faster jake..” You manage to say,
“Knew you were greedy” He smirks, before you can say anything back he crashes his lips onto yours, rolling his hips, thrusting in and out of you, his balls slapping against you at every thrust, the wet sounds filling the room are filthy.
Your tounges tangle together as he fucks into you, hitting a spot you could never reach with your own fingers.
His other hand comes up to pinch your nipple, earning a shocked gasp from you, You clench around him, hole fluttering, greedily taking his cock, he presses harder on your clit, pinches your nipple, you thrash against him, moaning into his mouth as you reach your second orgasm of the night.
But he doesn't stop, instead he wraps his hand around you pulling you up so you're sitting on his dick facing him, he cups your ass in his hands, grinding you on him, you're pulsing around him, your nerves on fire with every drag of your clit against him.
You’re both slick with sweat, his hair sticking to his forehead, he's lost in the feeling of your pussy dragging on him, “You gonna let me fill you up mama?”
He grips your ass harder, delivering a smack, you let out a high pitched sound at that, “God, you would look so pretty–”
He lays you back down on your back, the vision already clear in his mind, you–belly swollen, carrying another one of his children, breasts full, so sensitive– He'd take such good care of you, giving you everything you deserve and more.
“Can I breed this pretty pussy mama? stuff you full?” He fucks into you deeper, your legs lock around him in response, He lets out a sound almost a whimper, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug as his hips move frantically in and out of you, he can feel the pressure building, and by the way you’re fluttering around him again, he knows you’re close too.
“I love you baby– fuck, I love you so much..” He groans into the crook of your neck, your hands claw at his back, grasping on his hair as he buries himself deep inside you, your pussy clamps tight, eyes rolling back as your juices leak out, his cum shoots into you, the warmness pooling in a way that has your legs shaking, He doesn't pull out all the way, but he fucks into you once more, hard, making sure none of his seed leaves your sweet hole.
You two stay like that, him inside you, hugging you with so much love it makes your heart flutter.
When he pulls out, he falls to your side, pulling you closely to him. You wrap your leg over his hip, and he nuzzles his face in between your breasts, causing a soft laugh to leave your lips.
“I love that sound,” he murmurs, “Hm?” You ask curiously, He lifts his head looking at you with so much adoration “Your laugh.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your neck before wrapping his hands around your body, embracing you, savoring this moment, because if he could, he'd stay here forever.
— Bonus —
Jake is half asleep below you, one hand draped on your belly, your 6 month old baby growing healthily inside of you.
You try not to wince at the fabric of your shirt rubbing against your very sore nipples, but you fail miserably.
“Mmm..” He mumbles, feeling your body tense beside him, he opens his eyes slowly, looking up at you.
Worry flashes across his face at your pained state, he sits up immediately, "What's wrong? Are you okay mama?” His hand cups the side of your face, pressing his wrist to your forehead, checking your temperature
“Tell me what you need? Water?” His eyebrows furrow together, he runs a hand through his hair, his body flexing at the movement, you can't help your eyes from dragging down his frame, his bare chest, and his loose hanging sweatpants with no boxers underneath.
You tug at your shirt, “They hurt Jake–” You breath out, realisation flashes across his face, his eyes falling to your pebbled nipples poking through your shirt.
“Ah..I see,” He swallows, before moving to lift your shirt over your head, the fabric dragging along your breasts making you wince.
He tosses the shirt on the bed, memorized with how full your breasts are, how hard your nipples get, he cant help himself when his hands come up, weighing them.
“Fuck–you’re so beautiful,” His fingers graze over your nipples, making the already damp spot in your panties grow, You whimper at the touch “So sensitive baby..” He dips his head, tongue grazing lightly over the peak.
You let out a sharp moan at the feeling, the pleasure overtaking you. He watches your face, his tongue flicking over the bud before lifting his fingers, he presses them on your lip, your mouth opening on instinct, you wrap your lips around his fingers, wetting them, he pulls them out, circling your other nipple with them, spreading your saliva on it.
“So warm, and soft..” He massages one with his hand, it helps ease the tension, making your body relax more into his touch, he presses his nose against your breast gently, your warm skin making the bulge in his sweatpants strain even more.
His hand inches down, past your belly, dipping between your spread thighs, His mouth freezes over your nipple at the wetness already soaked through your loose shorts.
“Shit, you’re dripping–” He moves the shorts to the side along with your underwear, dragging two fingers through your wetness, making a soft gasp leave your lips
“M’ gonna make you feel good” He whispers, before both of his fingers slip inside of you, curling immediately.
The sounds coming from between your legs are so lewd, wet squelching every time he takes his fingers out, just to shove them back in, his palm grinding against your swollen clit as he hits that spongey spot deep inside you.
“Jake–ah..” You breath out, hands lifting to grasp his veiny arm, it's all so sudden, the way you clamp down on his fingers, the juices that flood out of your pussy soaking the sheets, He drags his fingers out, rubbing your sensitive clit with the two, spreading your slick all over.
“God– you’re pretty when you come on my fingers like that..” He brings the two digits to his mouth, sucking them clean, eyes not leaving yours, your mouth hangs open as he does so.
He glances down at your lips, plump from the biting you’ve been doing, before closing the distance, letting you taste your musky sweetness on his tongue that he loves so much.
You don't register it, but his hand inches back down your body, rubbing your pussy slowly, before he shoves three digits inside of you, your nails dig into his forearm at the stretch, gasping into his mouth
“Oh my gosh–” You moan out, his fingers repeating the curling motion, “Shh.. let me make you feel good.” He whispers, repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you just right, his tongue flicks just under your ear, spiking your sensitivity even more.
A warm gush of liquid coats his hand, your eyes flutter shut as you squirt on his fingers, soaking the sheets beneath you even more.
He curls his fingers deeper, letting as much as he can seep out, the wetness coating your inner thighs gradually. He kisses your lips once more, before pulling his fingers out slowly, admiring the way they shine under the faint morning sunlight. His palm slaps against your sensitive pussy lightly in a teasing manner.
"I'm going to get the bath ready, we still have some time before I take Lay to school.” he kisses your cheek softly, standing up, bulge evidently clear in his sweatpants. “But what about–”
“Mama, I said to let me make you feel good, we can worry about this later, Okay?” He walks around the bed, opening the door to your shared bathroom.
Jake insisted on you relaxing in the bath, while he gently rubbed your skin with your vanilla soap, but you had other plans, sneakily reaching behind you to stroke his aching cock until the only thing he could focus on was how good your hand felt around him while moaning softly into your neck.
After the bath he helped you get dressed, helped you down the stairs, making sure to set up the pillows so you were well supported before waking Layla up.
Once she was all dressed for school, her 2nd week of being a Kindergartner, she came running up to you, careful to not press against your baby bump.
“Mommy!” She smiles, you look at Jake's attempt of pigtails before chuckling, Layla reaches her small hand out, touching your stomach gently, as if she was petting a small puppy.
“You look pretty Lay,” She giggles, Jake walks back over, bowl of strawberries in hand with nutella drizzled on top, a craving he knows you love.
He presses a light kiss to your forehead before handing Layla her sparkly pink backpack. “Ready princess?” He asks, looking down at Layla, she nods, skipping past him, you and Jake both laugh at her eagerness.
“Ill be back in a bit” he says, pressing another kiss, this time to your covered baby bump, you can't help the blush that coats your face as he gives you that boyish smile.
Even when they both leave, shutting the door behind him, the warmness stays in your heart, Because this is even better than your dreams.
-
Yeah so I need Jake asap.
okay hope you guys enjoyed!
peep the Sunghoon plot building.. (hoping to start writing it soon after i finish some of my other wips👀)
─── we can uh-uh in it, while you drive it real far ⋆˚꩜｡
OR where you hooked up with the top f1 driver without knowing it.
pairing: f1 driver!jay x f!reader
content + warnings: one night stand, smut, porn with plot, not proofread, car sex, just... filth, unprotexted p in v (wrap it before you tap it!), fingering, he picks up the phone in the middle of sex (gulp), oral (m receiving), cum eating, he's a head pusher, riding, a little bit of choking, just overall messy - lmk if i missed anything!
word count: 2.2k / 2,236
🏎️ part 1 | part 2
bea speaks! i HAD to write a short smut for this photo of jay like cleanup on aisle MY PANTS
🏁 ˚.ೃ࿔*:･
YOUR FRIENDS ARE SCREAMING OVER THE MUSIC, waving their drinks like trophies in celebration at the fact that you finally broke up with your boyfriend.
You laugh, tossing your hair back and letting the energy wash over the sting of the past few weeks. Freedom has never felt this intoxicating.
You settle at the bar, balacing a highball on one hand while scrolling through your phone with the other.
That's when you notice him.
Not like him, like your ex.
Him.
He leans against the far end of the bar, scanning the crowd like he owns the place, drink in hand, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Your chest skips when you realize he was looking back at you. The subtle tilt of his head, that flicker of amusement in his eyes. He already knows the game you're about to play.
"You come here often?" he calls over the bass of the music as he strides toward you.
You roll your eyes, smirking before you can even stop yourself. "No. But freedom tastes better than I thought."
"Getting over someone?" he asks, voice low enough that it only reaches you. "Or are you just celebrating that you finally realized you're better than them?"
You blink, caught off guard. "Careful, you're dangerously close to giving me a complex."
He chuckles, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. "Complexes are my specialty."
Your fingers curl around your drink. "I'll keep that in mind."
He leans on the bar beside you now, a smirk still plastered across his face. The way his proximity makes your pulse spike is infuriating. You’re supposed to be unattached, untouchable, free. And yet here he is, making it impossible.
“You always this… trouble?” he teases, eyes dark, scanning you like he’s memorizing every curve, every reaction.
“Maybe I just like to test limits,” you reply, tilting your head back slightly, meeting his gaze with equal fire.
His smirk grows. “Limits, huh? I think we could… uh… push them together.”
You choke back a laugh, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Dangerous, thrilling, stupid heat. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says, leaning closer, voice low and intimate, barely over the music. “I think we could make things… interesting.”
Your heart thuds. The air between you feels suddenly tighter, charged. And even though part of your brain screams don’t do it, the rest of you leans in.
“Interesting how?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing.
He smirks, one eyebrow raised. “Follow me. I’ll show you.”
Before you can process, he’s holding out his hand. Your pulse hammers in your ears. The crowd, the lights, the bass—all fade into background noise as your mind screams, what the hell am I doing?
He guides you out of the club, the night air hitting your damp skin like a shock. You blink against the streetlights, and that’s when you see it: a Lamborghini.
A sleek, gleaming, impossible sports car idling at the curb, headlights cutting through the dark like it’s alive. Your jaw drops.
“Oh my god…” you whisper, heart racing.
He leans casually against it, like it’s just another accessory, like this is all perfectly normal. “Get in,” he says, hand extended.
You hesitate, half in awe, half in disbelief. “Wait… is this… yours?”
He tilts his head, smirk widening. “Maybe. What’s it to you?”
Your brain freezes, but you slide in anyway when he opens the door. When you settle in, he drives off a bit to the end of the parking lot where it was empty. Every time you looked over at him, you could feel the space between your legs get hot.
You glance over, eyes wide, pulse hammering. “You… you could literally ruin me in this car, you know that?”
He leans closer, voice low and teasing. “Oh, I know. And I plan to.”
Giving you no time to react, his lips are immediately on yours as his hand cups your face. His lips are soft and insistent against yours. When you let out a small whimper, his hand tangles in your hair and pulls your head back slightly.
The leather seats smell new and expensive, mixing with his cologne that makes your head spin.
"Fuck, you're hot."
He pulls you back in again, kissing you deeper this time, his tongue sliding against yours. Your hands end up on his chest, feeling the firm muscle beneath his silk button-up.
He shifts in the driver seat, pulling you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. You're straddling him now, the leather seat creaking softly as you grind against him.
One of his hands slide up your thigh and under your dress, fingers pressing into your warm skin.
"You trying to kill me?" he murmurs against your lips, breath hot. "Keep grinding like that."
You roll your hips instinctively, and he groans low in his throat. His grips tightens on your thighs, guiding your movement as his hand grips the base of your neck.
"Tell me your name," he breathes between kisses, teeth grazing your bottom lip. "Wanna know who I'm fucking in my Lambo."
You almost let out a moan, but held yourself together.
"You first," you whisper, pressing your forehead against his. His eyes are dark, jaw tightening.
"Jay." His thumb traces your jawline slowly. "Now yours."
His hips buck up against yours once, testing, nd you feel he's already hard beneath you. You moan your name against him, eyes fluttering closed as he starts kissing down your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point. His hands roam your body possessively, one squeezing your ass when he completely slides your dress up to hike at your stomach.
Jay's teeth sink into your collarbone and you gasp. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."
He continues to kiss down your chest as his fingers run along the hem of your panties. He pulls it back just enough to snap it back.
You start to unbutton his shirt, eager to feel his toned chest with your bare hands. His fingers work quickly to unhook your bra and push the straps down your shoulders. He pauses, taking a moment to admire you before his mouth latches onto your nipple, sucking and biting gently. His hands grip your hips tightly as he rocks his hard length against you through his tight trousers.
"Jay, don't tease," you whimper, tangling your fingers through his hair as he continues to suck on your nipple, biting down harder when you grind a little too hard.
"Impatient, aren't you?" His voice is rough as he pulls back, eyes dark with lust. He pushes your thighs further apart with his, hands slipping between them to touch you through your soaked panties. You gasp when he lightly presses on your clothed clit.
"Fuck, you're already this wet?"
You nod, already submissive under his touch. His fingers slide beneath your panties, sliding them through your folds to lather your wetness. He lets out a quiet groan before pushing two fingers into you without warning.
His phone buzzes on the dashboard, but you hold his hand in place, keeping him there. "Don't."
He gives you a sly smirk, picking up his phone and answering it as his fingers continue to plow through you. You gasp quietly, hands flying up to cover your mouth.
"Hello?"
While you continue to grind on his fingers as he curls them, he gives you a slight smirk, loving how much you're enjoying this.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm just chilling in my car. Needed a break from the loud club," he chuckles darkly, keeping eye contact with you.
Your hips twitch as he starts picking up the pace, his thumb rubbing your clit, adding onto the pleasure.
"Yeah... no, dude. I just wanted some space alone," he continues on the phone. A quiet moan escapes your lips, causing Jay to stop. You whimper at the loss of movement, grinding your hips hard against his fingers, almost bouncing yourself up and down.
Jay continues pumping his fingers into you, curling his fingers just slow enough to get you drooling.
"Okay, I gotta go now. Bye."
His thumb presses hard on your clit as he throws his phone to the side, his lips moving to your ear, licking it with precision. You let out a whine, your thighs squeezing around his wrist as your orgasm crashes into you. He catches your mouth with his, fingers still slowly pumping inside of you as you clench around him.
He pulls out his fingers and the wet sound is embarrassingly loud. He holds up his glistening hand, smirking as you watch him bring it to his lips. He licks his fingers clean without breaking eye contact, the gesture filthy.
"My turn now," you whisper, hands flying towards his belt, but he catches you in a kiss again so you can taste yourself on his tongue. A moment passes, then you climb back over to the passenger seat. You lean over, unbuckling his belt as his cock springs free. He leans his head back against the headrest to watch you play with him.
He lets out a low groan when you gently touch his cock, his hands reaching over to roam your back. You start stroking him slowly, squeezing gently every time his hips jerk. He watches you through hooded eyes, jaw tight.
When your mouth wraps around him, his hand fists your hair and pushes you down a little deeper. His back arches off the seat, thighs tensing under you.
You pull back slightly and give his tip a few kitten licks before going down again, feeling him in the back of your throat. The thought of you taking him so well made him instinctively buck his hips, thrusting into your mouth gently.
"You take me so well, baby," he moans, hand gripping tighter around your hair. His voice is strained as you continue to suck him off, but then he stops you, pulling your head back.
"Need to be inside you."
His eyes were blown, watching the string of saliva connect from his red, mushroom tip to your glistening lips. You look up at him through your wet lashes, and he felt himself cum a little to the view.
He wraps his hands around your hips and pulls you back over to straddle him again. His cock is hard and leaking against your stomach as he gently kneads your boobs, latching onto your nipple. You grab his hard length, sliding it through your wet folds, teasing him before positioning him at your entrance.
You both look down as you watch his cock slowly disappear into you, the slick sounds of your juices echoing too loudly. His hands find your hips, pushing you down onto him roughly. A loud moan escapes from between your lips as you hold onto his shoulder as an anchor.
You gasp as he starts to thrust up into you, hips slamming against yours. His free hand comes to cup around your neck, bringing you in for another rough kiss, tongue immediately intruding your mouth.
"You always do this?" you pull away just enough to ask.
He doesn't answer. He just pulls your knees up so your feet are flat on the seat, the angle making him hit deeper inside you.
"Don't get to do this much."
He kisses your mouth hungrily, biting your lip hard as he continues to fucks into you relentlessly.
"I'm so close," you moan out as he starts thrusting erratically. His hand grabs your hair, pulling your head back to leave hot kisses on your neck. When he bites on your neck, the knot in your stomach tightens, your vision turning white. He loses control at your loud moan, hips snapping up brutally as he comes deep inside of you with a groan.
"Holy fuck," he breathes out as his dick twitches, continuing to leak inside of you. He pulls you in for one last kiss as he helps you off of his dick, watching his thick cream drip out of you and soaking the seat.
The next day, you're sitting in the car with your friend Minjeong as you made your way to the F1 tournament. Having sex with Jay yesterday still engraved your mind, and you couldn't stop thinking about how he fucked you until you were sore.
Literally, Minjeong asked if you twisted an ankle at the club last night.
When you arrive at the F1 circuit, you follow your friend inside, not really caring for the event. You more-so came because she needed a plus-one since another friend bailed today.
She immediately drags you to the paddock entrance where fans were already crowding behind the barriers, waiting for the drivers to arrive. Luckily, you were able to find a spot right behind the bars on the side.
Minutes passed and finally all the drivers were walking out. Even though you didn't necessarily like F1, just the adrenaline of knowing you were able to say hi to some of them made you happy.
When the last driver walked out, the crowd got louder—if that was even possible—and you turn your head to look.
Jay.
He walks out, smiling and waving at the crowd when he locks eyes with yours. It lasted longer than a few seconds, but you knew he was thinking about last night too.
Minjeong turned to you, grabbing your arm and shaking you as she screams.
you’re a college student with clean hands. Riki is the campus plug. one simple deal turns into late night conversations and accidental flirting.
pairing: dealer!riki x fem!reader
contains: weed, smoking, he keeps calling u sexy
⌗AN: had to tease u guys again with the ending whoops! sorry I just like slowburns so I can make sequels with extra tension hihi
⊹
Riki was exactly where everyone expected him to be between classes. Posted up against his black car in the parking lot, hoodie over his head, joint tucked behind his ear, eyes half-open like school physically bored him. AirPods in. Backpack on the ground. Like he lived there.
You spotted him as soon as you stepped outside.And okay, maybe your heart jumped a little, but only because you were about to do something stupid. Or bold. Same thing.
You walked straight at him with purpose, not even hesitating.
He didn’t notice you until your shadow fell over his shoes. He pulled out one AirPod, looking up lazily, then blinked when he realized who was standing in front of him.
“…You’re kidding,” he said.
You crossed your arms. “Nice greeting.”
He gave you a slow up and down look, squinting like he was trying to find a stupid joke to make.
“What are you doing out here?” he asked. “This is skipping class zone. You’re lost.”
“I’m not lost.”You took another step closer.“I need something.”
His brows shot up. “What, extra credit?”
You scoff. “Weed.”
Riki laughed, short and disbelieving. “You don’t even know what you’re asking for”
“I know enough” you say, not sure if you believe that yourself.
He pulls out his other AirPod. He stands up and you realize how tall he is. He’s almost hovering over you. "Yeah? Then you know firsttimers don’t walk up to me like they're ordering off a menu."
“This isn’t about being a first timer. I know you deal. Do you want money or not?” You say as you cross your arms.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “Fine. How much do you need”
You hesitate at his question, going silent before responding.
“I- an eighth?”
He smirks, anyone could tell you have no idea what you’re talking about. “You don’t even know how much that is, ma.”
You scoffed. “Does being annoying help with your business?”
A slow grin spread across his face — not mocking, but impressed.“Ohhh so you have a mouth on you.”He tilted his head. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Obviously,” you said. “You don’t expect much.”
“For real?” he asked, pushing off the wall, stepping closer. “You’re actually serious about this?”
You nod your head yes.
He clicked his tongue. “This is crazy.”
You frown again, “this is a yes or no question, Riki.”
He parted his lips like he wanted to argue more… but you held his stare, solid, unbothered, totally not the prissy girl he thought you were.
“Can you hurry and give me the weed?”
He rolls his eyes. “I’m not just walking around with bags of weed on me bro. You think im an idiot?"
He shakes his head, and sighs exaggerated. “Give me your phone.”
You squint “why.”
“You want the damn weed or not? just give me the phone.”
You unlock your phone and he snatches it out of your hands like a little kid that wants to play games on it.
He scrolls through your phone like it his own, looking for the contacts app. Then he starts tapping on things and after a minute he hands your phone back. “There. Got my number saved. When i've got something, I’ll text you a time and place."
“Don’t come asking for more than what you’ve asked for now. And never show up with anyone else. I don’t sell to groups.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to babysit your friends too if they’re like you.”
A smirk tugged at your lips.“Right.. well im going back to class. Bye druggie”.
He chuckles and shakes his head, amused. “Yeah alright.. bye geek”.
-
The next day his text came around 5:42 PM.
Riki:
got it
meet behind Westpoint Mall
10 mins
don’t bring anyone
You weren’t sure why your stomach flipped.It was just weed. Just Riki.
Still, you checked the mirror twice before leaving. Fixed your hair. Changed your shirt. Put on lip gloss you claimed you “just felt like wearing.”
Right…
The sun was low and orange when you walked behind the mall. The parking lot was half-empty, the dumpsters humming, the air warm from the leftover heat of the day.
Riki was already there — leaning against the wall, hood up, twirling his keys around his finger. When he spotted you, his mouth tilted into that cocky half-smirk he always wore when he was about to say something irritating.
“Sup, sexy” he said. The word rolled of his tongue so smoothly you didn’t even register it. “You didn’t skip any classes for this, right? Would hate to ruin your perfect attendance.”
You rolled your eyes.“Don’t start.”
He lifted a brow. “Relax, I'm just asking. Aren’t you supposed to be doing homework in a color-coded planner right now?”
You stepped closer. “No. I’m here giving you money.”
“Damn,” he said, mock surprised. “Corrupting the innocent. My favorite hobby.”
“Whatever.” You say and you open your hand. He puts a tiny plastic bag with weed in your palm, fingers brushing against your hand.
“$50.”
You grab the cash out of your purse that looked too classy for this kind of encounter, you shoved the folded bills toward him.
He reached for them—And you pulled your hand back.
Instant reaction, his eyes narrowed, annoyed.“Don’t play games. That’s not funny.”
“I need a favor first.” You say and you look him straight in the eyes.
“A favor?” he repeated, sounding one second away from turning around and leaving.“What favor? If you’re about to ask for a discount—”
“Jezus calm down, I'll give you the money. Just listen. It’s not a discount.”
He waited. Arms crossed. Already stressed like you were about to ruin his whole night.
You took a breath.
“I… don’t actually know how to smoke.”
Dead silence.
And then he blinked at you, slow, like his brain had to reboot.
“…You’re kidding.”
“I’m not.”
“No, because why would you buy from me if you can’t even— fuck man..” He stopped himself, dragging a hand down his face.“So you pulled up to a dealer… to get something you don’t know how to use.”
You flash a fake cocky smile at him “teach me, or no money”.
He scoffs, giving you an exasperated look.
“Teach you? You think i'm a fucking weed sensei? This isn't a movie.”
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“But if you wanna pay extra for a lesson… fine.”
You look at him like he’s crazy “I’m not paying you for teaching me how to smoke..”
“Why the hell would I waste my time then? You expect me to tutor you out of the kindness of my heart?”
He gives a sharp laugh.
“This ain't a charity, pretty. Either shell out the cash and i'll show you how to smoke. Or take the stuff and figure it out yourself. Your choice. But don't expect my time for free."
You groan exaggeratedly loud and roll your eyes “fine, how much.”
His smirk returns, satisfied with himself for getting you to give in.
“A hundred. And that's me being nice. Cash. Right now.” He holds out his hand expectantly.
Your eyebrows shoot up. “What the fuck? I’m not paying you a hundred dollars?”
“Then you can go light a joint with your student ID and good vibes. Next.”
He turns to walk away, already slipping his hands into his pockets. You quickly walk after him and grab his wrist.
“I don’t have it on me right now.” You say as you hand him the $50 from the weed.
He rolls his eyes, his jaw clenched. he's losing his patience, but a hundred bucks is a hundred bucks. He takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his annoyance.
“Fine, you owe me 50. I want it tomorrow. No games, no bullshit. I hate chasing people down.”
-
The walk to the top level of the mall’s parking deck feels way too slow for how fast your heartbeat is going. The sun is setting, throwing long orange shadows across the concrete, and Riki keeps glancing at you, obviously checking you out.
“You always make people climb five floors for drugs?” you ask, breath a little uneven.
“Nah,” he says, pushing open the door to the rooftop. “Just the hot ones.”
You almost trip. He pretends not to notice, but the smirk on his face makes it clear he definitely did.
His beat-up black car sits right on the edge, nothing but open skyline and warm evening air stretching out in front of it.
“See?” he says, nodding toward the view. “Looks better when you’re high.”
It is beautiful. You’d rather look at him though, but he doesn’t have to know that.
He hops onto the hood of his car like it’s the most natural thing ever, then pats the spot next to him. You slide up beside him, close enough that your legs almost touch, pretending not to notice.
Riki reaches through the half-open driver window and grabs a little pouch, filters, papers— a whole kit.
You raise a brow. “You keep all that in your car?”
He shrugs. “You never know when someone’s gonna need a good time.”
His forearms flex as he starts rolling the joint. When he’s done he looks at you, almost proud of himself.
“That was fast” you say.
He chuckled “I do this every day sweetheart.”
Your stomach flips. You hate it.
He seals the joint, flicks his lighter, and the flame briefly lights up his face. He takes a slow drag, jaw sharp, lips parted, then hands it to you.
“Ready?”
“…No.”
He laughs under his breath and hands it to you anyway.
“Just inhale slow. Don’t be dramatic.”
You shoot him a glare, take the joint, and try to do exactly what he said, except the smoke hits your throat instantly and you choke so hard you practically fold in half.
Riki bursts out laughing, hand coming up to support your back.
“Yo.. nah, that was insane. You didn’t even try.”
“I did try,” you cough, shoving his shoulder weakly. “You didn’t explain it right.”
He takes it back, hits it again, effortlessly, and holds it out for you.
“Again. Lighter this time. Breathe it in like… like you’re sipping it.”
You try again. This time you manage not to die, though it still burns like hell.
“There you go,” he says, sounding a little proud, hand still resting on your back. “Look at you.”
A few hits later, everything feels warm. You’re relaxed, floaty, and way too aware of how close Riki is sitting. His knee keeps bumping yours, and you don’t know if it’s an accident anymore.
“So…” you say, turning to him, “why do you even skip so many classes?”
He tilts his head slightly, eyes still on the sky. “Dunno. School’s loud. Teachers talk too much. I get more done when I’m not there.”
You raise a brow. “More done? Yeah selling weed behind malls…”
He gives you a playful look. “Hey, entrepreneurship. You study it, I live it.”
You laugh and he watches the sound leave your mouth like he wasn’t expecting you to find him funny.
“What about you?” he asks. “Why’re you sneaking around with me?”
You lean back beside him, letting the wind hit your face.
“Maybe I’m not as boring as you think I am.”
His eyes drop to your mouth for half a second. “Yeah. I’m starting to figure that out.”
For the first time, Riki feels less like the asshole weed-plug stereotype you had in your head… and more like someone real. Someone interesting. Someone with secrets and softness he doesn’t know how to show.
And Riki, quietly watching you out of the corner of his eye, looks like he’s realizing the same thing about you.
The joint burns down to a tiny ash ring between Riki’s fingers, and when he flicks it away, the world feels… different.
Warm. Fuzzy. A little too bright.
You blink slowly, trying to focus on the city lights — but they look like they’re breathing. Or maybe that’s just you swaying a tiny bit.
Riki snorts. “Damn. You’re gone.”
“I’m fine,” you protest, except your voice comes out soft and floaty, like you’re underwater.
“Yeah?” He leans closer, squinting at your face. “Your eyes are low as fuck. You look like you’re about to melt.”
“I’m not—” You forget the sentence halfway through. A lazy smile pulls at your lips instead. “Okay maybe a little.”
He chuckles, slow and warm. “You’re cute like this.”
You blink at him, too sluggish to react. “Shut up,” you mumble, which makes him grin even wider.
For a second, he watches you — the way your feet don’t stay still, how your fingers keep fiddling with the hem of your shirt, how your cheeks are pink and your eyes keep drifting back to him.
“You hungry?” he asks suddenly.
You whip your head toward him way too fast. “STARVING.”
He laughs again, pushes off the car hood, and stands. “Come on then, before you pass out on my bumper.”
He opens the passenger door for you, being dramatic about it, and you climb in, giggling at nothing. The car smells like mens cologne mixed with weed. The leather seat feels like heaven. The car lights feel like fire. You’re convinced his steering wheel is the funniest-looking circle you’ve ever seen.
“You’re literally a toddler right now,” he mutters as he starts the engine.
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
He smirks and shakes his head, pulling out of the lot.
The drive is a blur of neon lights and music that sounds like it’s echoing inside your chest.
When you walk inside the fast food place, the fluorescent lights feel unreal. Riki looks completely normal — hoodie, hair messy, hands in pockets — except for his red eyes giving him away.
“Act normal,” he says.
“I am normal.”
Then you trip over absolutely nothing.
He catches your elbow, laughing under his breath. “Yeah, okay. Total sober behavior”
You order chicken nuggets, fries, and a drink big enough for two people. Riki pays before you can argue.
They hand you the tray, and you both collapse into a booth, your thighs brushing under the table — again on accident, again on purpose.
You reach for a nugget at the same time as him, fingers touching.
You freeze.
He doesn’t move.
Your skin tingles way too intensely for something so small.
Then he clears his throat, grabs the nugget, dips it, and holds it out to you.
“Eat.”
You narrow your eyes. “Don’t feed me.”
He chuckles “just open your mouth.”
You roll your eyes but lean forward anyway, taking a bite straight from his fingers, your lips brush his fingers softly. His jaw flexes slightly. You pretend to ignore it.
Then you reach for the drink at the same time he does. There’s only one drink, but two straws.
“You can drink first,” you say.
“Nah, go,” he replies.
You end up sipping at the same moment, your faces stupidly close, eyes lowering on instinct. Sipping from two straws in the same drink like a romcom, and you both pull back laughing.
By the time the nuggets are almost gone, your brain feels like it’s gently sliding off a shelf.
You rest your cheek on the cold table, eyes half-closed.Riki raises a brow.
“You good, pretty?” He says with a smile, he slips in those pet names way too smoothly.
“I’m sleepy,” you mumble. “And you—” you point at him lazily “—you’re acting way too normal”
He laughs under his breath. “I told you. I’m used to it.”
You squint. “How used to it?”
“Used to it enough to babysit you right now,” he teases, tapping your forehead with his finger. “Come on. Before you fall asleep on this nasty ass table.”
You don’t even argue. Your limbs feel warm and loose as you follow him outside, the doors sliding open with a dramatic whoosh that makes you giggle for no reason.
The air hits different — cool against your skin, the sky already dark, city lights glowing like stars piled on the ground instead of the sky.
Riki shoves his hands in his hoodie pockets.You wrap your arms around yourself automatically.
He notices and bumps his shoulder into yours. “Cold?”
“A little.”
Without a word, he drapes an arm over your shoulders, pulling you into his side as you walk.
“So,” he says, voice low, casual, “why’d you really wanna try smoking?”
“I was curious.”
“That’s it?”
You pick at your sleeve. “And… I dunno. I guess I wanted to try something new.”
He hums. “Didn’t think you were that typa girl.”
You nudge him with your hip. “Maybe you don’t know me.”
He glances at you, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth. “I’m starting to.”
The two of you just walk.Talking about dumb stuff, deep stuff, whatever your high brains feel like throwing out.
He tells you how he hates math but likes building things, and how he always dreamed of being an architect as a kid.You guys talk for 2 hours straight, walking through the city like you own it, it feels like you know each others whole life story after tonight.
Back in his car.
You don’t even remember how you ended up here again. One minute you were walking around talking about childhood pets and the next you were climbing into the passenger seat because your legs “felt like jelly.” Riki just laughed and walked around to the driver’s side like it was the most normal thing ever.
By 8:30pm, he’s pulling into your neighborhood, one hand on the wheel, the other drumming against his thigh. He looks relaxed, too relaxed for someone who just spent hours being unexpectedly vulnerable with you. Like he didn’t just smoke the same joint you did.
He parks in front of your building but doesn’t turn the engine off. Just lets the car hum quietly between you.
You go to unbuckle but your fingers fumble, and he reaches over and clicks the seatbelt loose for you.
And then neither of you move.
Your faces are too close.Close enough to feel his breath.Close enough to smell the sweet smoke still clinging to his hoodie.
Your eyes shift to his lips.
His gaze drops to yours too.Then back to your eyes.
“Don’t look at me like that unless you want something.” He says low.
“And what if I do?” you throw back before you can stop yourself.
His jaw flexes and he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, like he wasn’t expecting you to say it.
You scoff and reach for the door.
You get out of the car, before you close the door, he leans over and calls out—
“Goodnight sexy”
You roll your eyes, trying to act like your heart isn’t doing backflips.
PAIRING ✧ sugar daddy!jay x fem reader
GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), adulthood, 12 years age gap (reader is 22, jay is 34), ceo!jay, strangers to lovers, fluffs, soft love kinda, he falls first and falls harder, jay is a huge simp
WARNING ✧ slow burn-ish, lengthy fic, some dramas, misunderstanding and miscommunication, angst, jealous-possessive!jay, explicit themes
WORDCOUNT ✧ 41.7K
SYNOPSIS ✧ jay park is famously known for excelling in anything he does, except his mundane love life — it's practically nonexistent. maybe it's the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married, but he no longer desires to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. that is when he finally meets you — the perfect woman just for him, and perhaps the one that his heart and soul have been searching for in a long time. but the only issue is that you only see him as your sugar daddy, or so he thought.
PART 2
-smut warnings under cut-
smut warnings: lengthy and possibly badly written smut, unprotected sex (no!), soft dom!jay, semi-mean dom!jay, sub!reader, reader whines and whimpers alot, ready is needy, pussy and tit lover!jay, lots of kissing, crying, name calling, daddy kink, making out, degradation, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, clit and nipple play, choking, ass and tits spanking, rough sex, eventual mild vanilla, squirting, creampies, overstimulations, multiple orgasms, aftercare, idk what else..
Love used to be a foreign concept that piqued a minuscule interest within him, as it served him no purpose, a sentiment so inconsequential to a man whose time pirouettes across the monotonous routine of corporate life.
Sure, a part of him revelled in the promiscuous attention from the ladies of all classes that inflated his ego, acutely aware of his sexual appeal that he took advantage of whenever he needed a reprieve from all the stifled emotions that stemmed from the taxing work and weighty obligation as a CEO, eventually leading to a coition with ladies of his pick that happened occasionally, but he felt nothing close to love — only pure lust. By the time the coitus came to an end, the lascivious attraction he once felt towards those same ladies dissipated as quickly as he diminished the hope of those who keenly desired him more than just their one-night stand.
Perhaps his desireless interest in love and dating stemmed from the fact that his parents rarely ever displayed affection and love towards one another throughout the years he grew up in the dull household that was completely devoid of any warmth or even the parental love he once yearned for. The warmth and affection he only ever received was from his nanny and the friends he made in his adolescent years until he reached the maturity to make a rationalised decision that he didn’t need love, not when all that mattered to him was to prevail against his dictatorial parents.
Hence, after years of different hurdles and industrious dedication to get where he is now, he has become a notable CEO who independently and successfully managed to establish a major corporation that now holds a valuable standing in today’s high society, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country, and whose reputation surpasses the ones in the same league as him in the business industry. Most importantly, he has successfully freed himself from the clutches of his parents by demonstrating his far greater capabilities than they had often underestimated.
But eventually, years of prioritising his work-life and undervaluing the importance of love come bearing repercussions on his singularity that he once preserved. Despite being a successful business tycoon who wields the power and wealth that intimidates those in the same league, he certainly isn’t feeling successful now in the slightest upon the dejecting epiphany.
Park Jongseong, otherwise known as Jay Park, the preeminent CEO who evokes both admiration and intimidation from the masses of those in the high society of business, whose name is often uttered with quivering lips from those lower in hierarchy, whose confident demeanour seemingly exudes an indestructible security, and a pragmatic businessman who has been known to be apathetic towards marriage, is now ironically facing a predicament that involves his overt desperation in finding a suitable partner for him.
Jay can’t pinpoint the exact moment of this deep yearning for love ingrained within him, but perhaps it has to do with his aristocratic mother, who once reached out to him to inform him that he’s of the age to be wed for the umpteenth time, or it’s the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married. Not to forget the repetitive questions that pertain to marriage, which he often receives from his peers whenever he is needed to attend an event.
Initially, Jay decided to dismiss such trivial matters as he was very much content without a significant other, but as time passed, he began to feel a profound loneliness whenever he was in the presence of couples or the passing love stories being exchanged in the others’ conversations. He tried to ward off the longing of a lover, but what was once a morsel of interest in love has entirely consumed him. He couldn’t even bring himself to invite other women to his bed like he used to, and it’s been approximately four years since he ever got laid, promising himself to be devoted to his future lover.
From there on, Jay knew that he no longer desired to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. So he began to try dating with the help of his trustworthy best friend, but none of those women sparked any interest within him, nor did they meet his standards, which was ironic because he genuinely had no idea what he was actually looking for in a partner. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that those women he dated in the past didn’t really understand him, nor did they bother to get to know him other than ogling over his looks and desiring only his status to elevate their standing in high society.
Now, Jay knows what he truly wants, and that is to form a connection with someone who can reciprocate in a way he longs for. As it’s been months since he last went on a date, he decided to reach out to his best friend once more, but he definitely didn’t expect the latter’s new solution to be absurdly unconventional.
Jay assesses the content displayed on his phone screen again, and this time, with clear judgement in his eyes as he glances over at his best friend, who is lounging on the three-seater tuxedo sofa that is situated near the floor-to-ceiling windows of his own office and who is also currently grinning ear to ear. Jake Sim.
“So this was why you needed my phone for fifteen minutes?” Jay asks him slowly, as though he’s having a hard time grasping what he had just read, twice.
“I couldn’t miss out on any of your details or information. Plus, I had to go through your photos and upload some of your pics on your profile.” Jake groans dramatically, as if he had finished doing a task so laborious when all he had been doing was typing away on Jay’s phone with snickers escaping him intermittently. “Gotta say, you have a knack for taking great pics of yourself, for someone who hates getting his pics taken.”
But the compliment has no effect on the disbelieving male. “I’m looking for a potential partner that I can really connect with, not to acquire a damn sugar baby.” Jay grumbles, his eyes briefly glancing at his phone screen before a sigh escapes him as he rubs his faintly throbbing temple. “I might as well go back to one of the dating apps again.”
As it turns out, Jake decided that to extricate Jay from his prolonged predicament, the solution was to register the latter into the system of a rather crude app, which its purpose serves to benefit both parties — by both parties, it refers to sugar daddy and sugar baby, but these labels are only applicable once the transaction between both parties is finalised.
It’s risky on Jay’s end, as this would lead to the potential risk of damaging his reputation as well as the company’s if word got out that he had acquired a sugar baby, which would obviously insinuate that their relationship is purely yet risquély sensual, considering that sugar daddies and sugar babies are generally frowned upon. But in full honesty, Jay knows it himself that he’s untouchable, and nothing could ever mar his high-standing reputation or his company since he had been through worse — this has been proven when some of his nemeses attempted to destroy his empire back in his late 20s.
“I hate to break it to you, but none of the dating apps worked out for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake reminds as he casts Jay a knowing gaze.
Right, how could Jay have forgotten? To be fair, he had been on countless dates that were either set up by Jake or due to the dating apps that he exploited. Most of the women he had met and dated shared one thing in common despite coming from diverse backgrounds — they were all highly sophisticated and educated with impressive careers and undoubtedly materialistic, practically in his league. Still, none managed to captivate Jay’s interest, which Jake found bizarre and even told him that he fumbled big time with those ladies that could’ve been his wife by now. But what Jake didn’t understand is that neither of those — careers and status — mattered to Jay.
Jake notes the incertitude in Jay’s protracted silence before heaving a sigh. “It can’t be that bad, mate. Plus, this app is legit. Look at the reviews!”
“Legit, you say? For all you know, those reviews might turn out to be an artifice in order to attract users.” Jay asserts sternly before narrowing his eyes at Jake with suspicion. “Wait, have you used it before?”
“Nah. One of my employees told me how he met the love of his life through this app. In fact, some of my employees did.” Jake divulges, earning an inquisitive eyebrow raised from Jay. “This app is practically surpassing any dating site when it comes to effectiveness. In a way, it’s similar to a dating app with the addition of sugar babies getting the financial benefits, obviously.”
“That’s the thing, Jake. I’m not looking for a sugar baby.” Jay reiterates exasperatedly, but he can’t deny the growing interest at the prospect of having a sugar baby; well, more like the idea of his sugar baby being affectionate and giving him the attention he desired entices him.
“It won’t hurt for you to try.” Jake reasons with him, all the more to amplify that interest within him. “Besides, it would be a win-win for you, except you’d have to spend your money on your sugar baby— I mean, your future lover.”
Please. Even if Jay had managed to find the right one for him elsewhere, he wouldn’t mind spending his wealth on his lover unconditionally. The idea of his future lover spending his money feels just gratifying to him.
But the dubiety lingers in the recesses of his mind. “I don’t know, Jake.”
“This may or may not be your last resort if you want to find the right one for you, mate.” Jake’s words quickly dispel any worries or hesitation from Jay’s mind as the latter caves into the incessant temptation, now trying to navigate his way and familiarise himself with the app.
After getting the hang of it, Jay begins to check out the profiles of the sugar babies with a swift yet definitive swipe of his thumb. His face eventually twists into a grimace, almost as though he feels repulsed, rendering Jake, who has been observing him, curious.
“They’re all too young for me.” Jay expresses his concern, and he doesn’t bother to look up at his best friend, who ambles over to him before towering over his seated figure from behind.
Jake makes a noise that sounds as though he’s in disbelief. “What are you talking about? These ladies are only in their 20s, some probably still in university, but they’re all of legal age.” Jake counters, his tone bordering on such offence that Jay rolls his eyes at. “And you’re not that old. If you are, then what does that make me?”
Jay ignores Jake as he continues to swipe on his phone. In all of his dating experiences, most of the women were older than him by a few months or years, and the youngest he’s ever dated was a twenty-four-year-old, but that was when he was twenty-eight. Now, he’s thirty-four, and the idea of dating a woman a decade younger than him just feels strange, even if they are of legal age.
Just when Jay feels tempted to give up, a sugar baby captivates his interest the instant after he swipes the previous one, almost as if he has been bewitched by one look at your face. The previous sugar babies that he swiped are not exactly unattractive, but something about you seems highly appealing to him.
His heart gradually beats fast, almost erratic, while his eyes remain fixated on your face, feeling as though he has developed a ridiculous yet temporary crush on a passing stranger whom he knows that he would never see again, because damn, you are absolutely gorgeous.
Jay feels a compelling urge to pamper you like you deserve, be it with his money or time, and he couldn’t care less if you’d want more for as long as it’s his wealth that you’re spending or if you’d want to take up all of his time. Just the thought of it has him feeling a strange bubble of giddiness in his chest.
Jake leans forward in a bending position to get a good look at your face while his hand rests on the rear of Jay’s ergonomic leather chair. “Oh? She’s cute. Might want to send her a request.” Jake approves with a Cheshire grin on his face, earning a brief glance from Jay, but the latter’s thumb remains hovering above his phone screen, evidently hesitating to swipe or not. “I’m telling you that she’s the right one for you! I have a good feeling about her.”
Jay doesn’t respond to his best friend, feeling his tongue-tied as he taps on your profile, only to be distracted by other photos of you, albeit none is explicit. His eyes widen just a fraction as they feast greedily upon your hypnotic visual. Some of the photos display your full stature, and his mind resorts to producing such a vision that entails you having to tiptoe for your lips to meet him with your arms around his neck.
He quickly wards off the vision before deciding to read every detail and information about you with keen interest. You’re only twenty-two, the youngest sugar baby he came across after the tedious swiping earlier, and you indicated that you’re fresh out of college. He concludes that you’re a homebody upon reading your interests and hobbies. You’re also a foodie, which is perfect since he loves the idea of feeding his significant other with his impeccable cooking skills. But an info about you captures his attention, his eyes widening just a fraction while his heart pounds harder in his chest.
“Harvard University? She went to the same uni as us!” Jake points out in a gleeful exclamation as he pats Jay’s shoulder approvingly. “This is the exact reason why you should pick her. It’s fate.”
“I don’t know. I mean, she clearly indicated that she’s fresh out of college. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m being predatory.” Jay mutters, feeling disheartened as newfound insecurity rouses within him. He takes another look at your photos longingly. “Plus, I’m probably way out of her league.”
Even the words that leave his lips feel so foreign on his tongue, an unusual insecurity hitting him, but there is no doubt that a gorgeous woman like you has high standards. Plus, even by your photos alone, there is a refined charm exuding from you, a compelling allure that intensifies his newfound attraction towards you, but undoubtedly unparalleled to his own charms. And yet, he still wants you.
Jake eyes Jay in sheer disbelief, looking as if the latter grew another head, because after knowing him for years, no woman has ever made Jay insecure or less confident. Heck, he looks as though he’s just been rejected by you even before he could send you a request to chat.
“Are you really the Jay Park I know right now? You’re the damn CEO with a net worth of, like, what, more than your competitors’ combined? Trust me, she would want you. And you’re not being predatory when she’s already an adult.” Jake tries to uplift his best friend’s spirit, but the latter remains glum, eliciting an annoyed sigh from him. “I can’t believe I still have to do shit for you.”
In a blink of an eye, Jake snatches Jay’s phone away from him, prompting him to snap out of his gloomy rumination. “Hey! Give it back!” Jay barks out, abandoning his seat to retrieve his phone, but Jake is quick enough to put some distance between them and holds his palm out to the agitated male.
“Don’t get your pants twisted now. I’m only helping you to send a request to her since you’re taking an awfully long time. Don't want other sugar daddies to snatch her first.” Jake says with a sly grin before pressing on the request button option in a deliberate motion to piss him off.
“I can do it myself.” Jay grumbles as he manages to retrieve his phone. He looks down at his phone screen with a frown, but panic immediately drains the colour from his face. “Shit.”
The grin on Jake’s lips falls, concerned for his best friend. “What’s wrong?”
“She accepted my request!” Jay tells him in urgency while there is a weird sensation of an adrenaline rush within him. He paces back and forth, his eyes occasionally glancing down at his phone screen. From the way Jay looks incredibly worried, Jake would have mistaken that he’s facing a business bankruptcy. “Fuck, what do I do next?”
“Dude, seriously?” Jake scoffs loudly, feeling both annoyed and amused at how Jay already seems so whipped for you to the point where the sight is almost pathetic. No, really. The guy looks as if he had accidentally sent his love confession to his crush. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I’ve never seen you being so—"
“Are you going to help me out or not?” Jay cuts him off in a snappy tone, casting a glare at Jake, who is beginning to look exasperated by his eccentric behaviour.
“Just send her a damn text!” Jake bursts out in annoyance with hand gestures. His face contorts into a scowl as Jay has yet to make a move. “Don’t tell me you need me to do it for you too?”
Jay releases a shaky breath as he gathers his emotions that have been going haywire from the moment he swiped to your profile. His face hardens with determination. “I got this.”
Jay sees a tiny green dot just below your miniature profile icon above, indicating that you’re online. He tames the odd yet annoying flutters within him as he proceeds to send you a text, hoping that it won’t come off awkward to you.
JAY: Hey.
You don’t think you could ever repay your best friend the way she truly deserves, not even with money. You could say that she’s your saviour because without her, you would probably have ended up living in the streets years ago the moment both of your parental figures decided to pursue their mutual interest in building their own respective families.
Though Sabrina is your saviour, you can’t exactly describe her as an angel. Sure, she has the face that is worthy to be worshipped, a dazzling beauty with her doll-like features, but she has the mouth of a sailor while her angel-like demeanour is a stark contrast to her vivacious personality. Still, no complaints from you, though, because only you know the pure benevolence of her heart.
Sabrina and you have always been attached at the hips since day one, since the day she fiercely defended you against the mean girls back in high school, since the day she saw the mistreatment you received from the ones who shared the same blood as you, since the moment she regarded you like her family, just as how her family became yours — the only time when you received familial love from the very people who treated you better than your own blood ever did. Heck, her parents practically raised you under their roof and regarded you as their daughter.
You will forever feel indebted to Sabrina and her family despite their sincere insistence on showing such kindness to you and the familial love that you once yearned for from your parents, for helping and supporting you in any way they could despite your adamant protests, and for being the reason why you clung onto the sliver of hope that life was still worth living.
But right now, a part of you feels tempted to eradicate that obligated debt you once held earnestly, your mind slowly spiralling into chaos while your eyes smoulder with unspoken ire as you assess the content on your phone screen before returning your gaze to your best friend.
“What did you do?” You ask her calmly, remaining eerily composed as opposed to the myriad of emotions that are embroiled in the storming chaos within you.
Oh, you know exactly what she did, and you may or may not resort to such undignified violence.
“I’m not quite sure what you meant.” Sabrina feigns innocence as she is comfortably perched on the couch, batting her naturally thick eyelashes at you in deliberation that aggravates your restrained wrath.
You raise your eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I don’t recall signing myself up to be a damn sugar baby.”
You were rightfully appalled upon the discovery of an unfamiliar app that’s tailored for those in need of both fast cash and affection from older men after you had just finished showering. You shouldn’t have left your phone alone with your best friend, and you should’ve changed your password sooner.
“Fine. I might or might not have registered you on that app on your behalf.” Sabrina finally concedes, grinning at you cheekily despite the storms she can see above your head, her senses alerting her to be prepared for the imminent wrath. “Plus, I’ve already accepted the right sugar daddy for you! And he’s hot!”
Her words fall deaf to your ears, and the next you know, your restrained wrath goes unbridled that propels you in charging towards your best friend, whose pretence drops.
“I’m going to kill you!” You bellow furiously, eliciting a girly shriek from the blonde as she is swift enough to remove herself from the path of your wrath, leaping over the couch.
“You can’t kill me! I’m your only best friend!” Sabrina cries out defensively, putting more energy in her legs as you continue to chase after her, practically running around in the living room of your shared apartment.
“And you’re about to be a dead one!” You yell out after her, feeling short of breath while the exertion in your body reminds you of your poor stamina, but in a fit of rage, you are relentless, even as she manages to outrun you. “What in the world were you thinking?! A sugar daddy?!”
Now, Sabrina is standing across from where you are with the couch that serves as a barrier between her temporary safe haven and your raging wrath. She pants lightly to catch her breath as you do the same. “I was trying to help you!” She reveals earnestly, her tone laced with desperation and sincerity.
Help. The word itself revolts you, even after receiving help from her and her generous family throughout your teens. It triggers a switch in you that has you retaliating in defence against the familiar thoughts that have been a constant plague in the recesses of your mind, how pitifully impotent you are, especially considering your current situation.
Sabrina means well; she always has, despite her mischief and her wild streaks — you know that much. But perhaps the repressive denial of your protracted predicament has finally caught up to you, as you now bitterly acknowledge how these past months were a bleak dwelling in the resentment and misery of your own failure despite the facade you put up in front of the others that seemed so impenetrable.
“How is finding a sugar daddy going to be any help to me?” You decide to pour the remnants of your rage by grabbing a pillow on the couch and aiming at the blonde-haired before repeating it again with the leftover pillows. “I’m not about to sell my body in exchange for money!”
“Not all sugar daddies are into it for sex!” Sabrina counters vehemently as she dodges your relentless attacks. “Some are actually decent— stop throwing pillows at me!”
Surprisingly, you come to a stop — more like because there are no pillows left to throw at her. “And how do you even know that?” You struggle to retain any decorum after the torrent of outbursts, your demeanour placid, but at least you don’t feel as murderous as you were earlier.
“Heard from a friend.” Sabrina replies tersely, eyeing you warily as you appear deceptively calm. Upon seeing that there are no traces of murderous intent in your countenance, she heaves a sigh, her blue eyes softening with a familiar sentiment. “Look, I genuinely want to help you because I know how much you’ve been struggling financially after what happened.”
You recognise the sentiment in her eyes — a catalyst that once ruptured the harmony in your dynamic with her, nearly severing your only true friendship — all because you had too much pride to accept her help in alleviating your burden by offering you money to pay off your tuition fees, and since your judgement was clouded by the torrent of emotions, you couldn’t help but feel insulted as she thought that you were completely helpless, especially since she knew that you were working as a part-time librarian at your university while still committing to the obligation as a full-time student.
You briefly look away from her gaze, your jaw locking with tension. Right. Money. In the end, it all comes down to the instability of finance — the primary cause of most problems and, sadly, a common hurdle that affects relationships and mental health, because the harsh reality is that money will always be consequential, especially considering the inflation in today’s capitalism.
Unfortunately for you, your current predicament is considered critical, and whether you like it or not, Sabrina is right. You have been struggling financially ever since you were dismissed from your employment at an illustrious cafe that required you an hour to commute from your place — well, technically, it’s your shared apartment with Sabrina, and it’s signed under her name, but she has been living with her boyfriend since graduation, rarely ever residing here now.
Hence, you decided to take responsibility for all the bills as a form of repayment for all the times she’s helped you throughout high school. Sabrina was sceptical at first as she was worried that you might feel pressured, but of course, you reassured her with confidence that you were more than capable of handling everything. Besides, you had always done everything on your own in those times without Sabrina and her family to witness the true constant battles you had to face. There were some things you needed to keep hidden from them, even if a part of you implored you to seek help from those within your reach.
You return your gaze to her after the prolonged silence and sigh deeply. “So you thought getting me a sugar daddy was the solution?” You ask wryly.
You know damn well what sugar daddies are and the purpose they serve to their clients, or rather, sugar babies. No matter how dire your financial situation is, as it’s been a month and a half since you got sacked by your employer, you could not imagine yourself earning money through an unvirtuous method. Even so, older men are really not your type.
“It’s the easy and fast way to earn money.” Sabrina attempts to entice you, to which you roll your eyes since you know that much. Still, you can’t deny the spark of temptation within you, and you blame your desperate need for money. “Besides, you’re a total hottie. Just one glance at any of your pics is enough to captivate their interest.”
“You flattering me does not excuse you from getting a beating— wait, what? My pics?” You splutter out your words, your eyes widening in disbelief, completely appalled at the idea of strangers, particularly old men, swiping through your pictures.
“Yeah, I uploaded some on your profile.” Sabrina beams with a smile, completely unfazed at your display of horror as you rush for the dining table to retrieve your phone. “It’s a requirement, anyway, for your potential sugar daddy to check you out.” She adds, agitating you further.
Your fingers move in frantic motion as you navigate your way on the damned app before finally finding your profile. Your eyes widen upon seeing the pics she uploaded. “Sab!” You exclaim in a whine.
“I know! I chose your best ones!” Sabrina gushes, looking smugly proud of her picks as though you are not currently shooting daggers at her with your eyes. “Sure, glare at me all you want. I just know you’ll thank me.”
You grumble your annoyance under your breath before begrudgingly diverting your attention to the phone screen. You tap on the notification icon and spot the username that has you scoffing lightly. Jay_Park, a basic username — not that yours is any better, but to be fair, your best friend was the one who created it for you.
You reluctantly proceed to check out the sugar daddy who had interest in you by tapping on his username while deliberately displaying your disinterest in your countenance to your best friend, only to be flabbergasted by the pictures he had uploaded; even his face in the miniature profile icon is striking enough to grab your attention at one glance.
“He’s hot.” You blurt out, your eyes never straying off his pictures. He is undeniably attractive despite most of his pics only displaying part of his face due to the angle he took, but you trust your judgement as you know that his broad body build screams total hotness, particularly his angular jawline that looks like it could cut your finger.
Not only is this user Jay_Park attractive, but every one of his pics gives off high sophistication, and none of his pics are as explicit as you had expected, like a hideous ripe dick pic of an old man or something. You have a strong feeling that he may be different from the sugar daddies you once perceived.
What was once barely a minuscule of interest has evolved into an unfamiliar keenness, and it’s pathetic to you, all because he’s possibly the most attractive man you have ever come across, and there is no way you would want to pass up this opportunity.
Sabrina shoots you an I-told-you-so look after studying the unconcealed fascination on your countenance. “See? I knew you'd be interested in him.”
Your eyes skim across every detail about him, his hobbies, and his interests until a certain piece of information has your lips turning down into a frown, feeling dubious. “But he’s way older than me.”
In fact, he’s 12 years older than you. Though dating is not exactly your forté, you have never dated or had a fling with men older than you by three years. The last fling you had was with a guy who was two years older than you, an engineering major, who also turned out to be an inconsiderate jerk.
“Babe, he’s only thirty-four. The older he is, the more experienced and better he is in bed. On top of that, he’s a CEO!” Sabrina emphasises in a resolute tone, but you only cast her a numb look, eliciting exasperation from her. “Hello? A literal hot CEO sent you a request, which means he’s interested?”
You already knew that when you were reading up on his profile, which is why you are numb to the conflicting emotions within you. A part of you fears the possibility of being deceived by this man who may be a fraud because it’s too good to be true, but then if he’s indeed legit, then why would a CEO himself be interested in you? You don’t even feel like you could meet his standards.
But before you can speak your mind, your phone vibrates in your hand, drawing your attention, only to feel your heart pounding in your chest upon seeing the pop-up notification on the screen.
[Jay_Park sent you a message!]
“Shit.” You begin to panic, your emotions going haywire while your mind is devoid of any rationality, unable to even think coherently.
Sabrina eyes you weirdly with a confused frown. “What?”
“He sent me a message!” You tell her frantically, pacing back and forth, which has your best friend rolling her eyes at. “What do I do?! I’m not even prepared for this! And it’s all your fault!”
“It’s my fault, we get that! Just reply to him quickly, or he’ll lose interest!” Sabrina exclaims, a blend of excitement and frustration glittering in her blue eyes as she receives no response from you. She takes quick steps forward and places both hands on your shoulders, snapping you out of your mini spiral, her stern eyes drilling into yours. “Girl, calm down. Just text him back as normally as you can. Also, be cool with it and try not to come off as too desperate. Some sugar daddies get turned off by instant desperation. Don’t ask why.”
A shaky breath leaves your lips before you hesitantly nod your head, being coaxed by the confidence and determination in your best friend’s countenance. She takes a step back from you, allowing you to pace yourself as you look at your phone screen again.
Biting down your bottom lip, you nervously proceed to reciprocate his message, your hands trembling slightly as you hold your phone.
YOU: Hi!
You cringe visibly as soon as you hit the send button, uncertain whether or not your greeting came off as too eager, and you rarely ever use exclamation marks whenever you text unless you need to make a point or feel pissed. But you are taken by surprise when he replies to you quicker than your best friend does.
JAY: I have to be honest, doll. I’m not really sure how to go about from here.
“He’s a fast texter.” You tell Sabrina, your tone indicating that you’re impressed by the bare minimum while your heart races at the nickname he called you. No guy has ever called you any nicknames other than babe.
YOU: Is this your first time being on this platform?
JAY: Embarrassingly, yes.
YOU: It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s my first time too, so I have no idea what we’re supposed to do next.
“I knew that I had accepted the right one.” Sabrina remarks with an approving grin as she notices that your attention is fixated on your phone. She grabs her purse from the coffee table before ambling towards the main door. “Well, babe, I’ve done my part, so you’re on your own from here.”
“Huh?” You lift your head up, confusion fogging your vision briefly before you realise that she’s indeed leaving you as she slips on her wedge heels. “Sab! You can’t just leave me—“
“Toodles~ Let me know once you officially become his sugar baby!” Sabrina cuts you off in a ramble, quickly shooting you a pearly smile before she heads out in haste.
You scoff, your eyes still staring at the space that she once stood before, and you reluctantly force yourself to deal with what she started like an adult. You muster the courage to reply to the text that he sent two minutes ago.
JAY: Just for confirmation, does this mean that you’re interested in being my sugar baby?
You feel a bubble of giddiness in your chest just by the word ‘my’ alone. The idea of being his sugar baby wouldn’t be so bad, you think. He’s handsome, evidently wealthy, a fast texter, and the tone of his messages feels amiable.
YOU: I am, unless you have other options in mind to consider?
JAY: No other options to consider when you’re the only one who caught my interest.
YOU: I find that hard to believe. Surely, other sugar babies must’ve caught your eye before you found me.
JAY: None is my type.
YOU: Are you also implying that I’m your type?
JAY: What do you think?
YOU: I’m usually not anyone’s type unless they want me for a quick fuck.
You didn’t mean to be vulgar with your texts, especially when your sugar daddy is a sophisticated man who most likely rarely ever curses, but you wanted to be straightforward.
JAY: Are you also implying that I’m interested in you simply because I want to sleep with you?
YOU: Isn’t that what sugar daddies in general are interested in? They pamper their sugar babies with their wealth, and in return, sugar babies please them in bed.
JAY: Well, my interest differs from theirs.
YOU: I’m sorry if I sound rude, but why are you on this platform in the first place if your interest differs from theirs?
JAY: To put it shortly, I was looking for a partner that I could connect well with, romantically.
YOU: Shouldn’t you be on a dating site instead?
JAY: In fact, I have, multiple times actually. But it didn’t work out for me.
YOU: So you’re not actually looking for a sugar baby?
JAY: Not really, but after going through your profile, I changed my mind. I’m interested in pampering you with my wealth and attention. You don’t have to offer anything in return. The only thing I want from you is to be able to spend time with you.
YOU: Oh.
JAY: Did I upset you in any way? Or is there anything you’re not fine with?
YOU: No. It’s just that I’m still trying to process this because, honestly, it sounds too good to be true.
JAY: It’s fine. Take your time.
YOU: But can I completely be honest with you?
JAY: You sure can, doll.
YOU: I’m really glad that you’re not a creep, as in you didn’t straight up send dick pics or the fact that you’re not being passive-aggressive.
A part of you wouldn't actually mind if he did send a picture of his dick, but you immediately brush off the thought, your cheeks flushing warmly.
JAY: I wouldn’t dare to make a gorgeous doll such as yourself uncomfortable. I also had a feeling that you weren’t into that kind of stuff.
Based on your experience, men usually find you cute or pretty, but to know that a very attractive online stranger, who you will regard as your sugar daddy, finds you gorgeous evokes a strange bubble of giddiness within you.
YOU: Thank you for your consideration :) So, gorgeous doll?
JAY: Are you uncomfortable with the nickname? I’m sorry. I got carried away.
YOU: Don’t be! I’m actually fine with it. Just didn’t expect you to find me gorgeous.
JAY: Of course, I do. I’m sure you look even more gorgeous in real life.
YOU: Such flattering words from a handsome man himself.
JAY: Look who is being a flatterer now.
YOU: Have you seen yourself?
JAY: Don’t make this about me, doll.
YOU: I’m not. I’m just pointing out that you really do look handsome, even if those pics only showed half of your face.
JAY: Nothing is more flattering than a darling doll such as yourself finding me handsome.
You continue the conversation with him, your lips stretching into a wide smile while your eyes sparkle with an avid interest in your sugar daddy, albeit you exchange such flirtatious words with him that render you in wonderment, because you actually have no idea how to flirt without cringing at yourself, but with Jay, it just feels natural.
JAY: Anyway, I just want to let you know as well that we don’t have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with.
YOU: Are you sure?
JAY: Yes. Your comfort matters to me. Besides, I can wait for you for as long as I need to.
Such salacious thoughts begin to fog in your head before you quickly expel those thoughts, inhaling sharply, but you know that you have now developed a desire for this man.
YOU: That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, Jay.
JAY: Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t properly spoiled you with anything. Speaking of, are you available tomorrow?
YOU: Yes. Why?
JAY: To meet you, of course.
YOU: Sure, tomorrow it is.
JAY: Great. I’ll pick you up at your place.
You continue to chat with him a little longer than you intended, including giving him your address and getting to know a little bit more about him. Eventually, you lose track of time, feeling a little too comfortable chatting with a stranger, as though he’s your long-lost friend instead of your sugar daddy.
JAY: I’m on my way to your place, doll. Can’t wait to see you :)
That was forty minutes ago, but you’ve been anxiously checking his message every so often, your nerves going erratic to the point where your empty stomach churns unpleasantly that you feel the urge to throw up. You have never felt this extremely nervous before, not even for your finals back in college.
You can still feel the weight of exhaustion in your eyelids that threaten to close, but the thought of Jay ringing your doorbell keeps you conscious. You couldn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning on your bed, and you knew that it was either the excitement or the nervousness of finally meeting your sugar daddy that prevented you from getting a good night's sleep.
Plus, you had to get up four hours early to do some light chores in order to make your apartment look neat and to make yourself look as impeccable as your skin, which is devoid of any unnecessary hair since the dress that you’re currently wearing displays more skin than you intended. You didn’t put in much effort in your makeup, just the perfect volume to enhance your features.
You let out a quiet groan at the realisation of the effort you put in just for a man, an older man at that, which is also utterly ridiculous, because it’s as if you are keen on impressing your sugar daddy, and this is not even a date, or is it?
The doorbell chiming throughout the apartment startles you, prompting you to abandon the couch as you pad across the living room to get to the main door. You don’t bother to check through the peephole, your hand immediately latching on the door handle, albeit your nervousness remains unabating.
Before you can spiral further, your hand has a mind of its own, because the next thing you know, you are greeted by a very handsome man whose stature towers over your figure in an imposing manner, and he’s the very same man who happens to be your sugar daddy.
You can barely check him out when his dark eyes compel yours, your breath hitching in your throat at the sharp intensity in his dark irises that intimidates you, but in a good way that has your heart beating rapidly like you had just made eye contact with your crush. You take the opportunity of the awkward silence to trace every feature of his face with your keen eyes — how remarkably handsome he is with his chiselled forehead and jaw, his flawless nose that evokes envy within you, his dark eyebrows that look naturally refined, and his lips that are naturally pink. His jet-black hair is styled impeccably in a slick back, enhancing his striking face. Oh, he’s absolutely the most gorgeous man ever.
Little do you know that while you are in a state of intimidation due to his potent yet irresistible aura that feels overwhelming, Jay feels just the same, his tongue completely tied the moment you opened the door. It is as though he’s seeing an angel, rendering him starstruck. Those pictures of you that he spent almost the entire night admiring did not do you justice, because you look radiantly beautiful up close that even the constellations in the starry sky pale in comparison.
His eyes roam around you shamelessly, his throat feeling parched while his mind is storming with such dangerous thoughts he has been trying to keep them at bay. You look sweet yet alluring at the same time as you are adorned in a blue floral printed dress that reaches above your knees, revealing the perfect curves of your legs, and the subtle low cut displays your dainty neckline that is bare of any jewellery, to which he makes a mental note to buy you one. He fights off the strong urge to ogle at your defined cleavage and how noticeably succulent the curves of your upper mounds are.
When his eyes return to your face, you are already staring at him with a small smile. Your shyness nearly has his knees buckling underneath him. He simply can’t believe that you’re real. Oh, what a wonderful privilege to be able to see you up close.
“Hi.” Jay greets you breathlessly, but you are more surprised at how soft-spoken he is, such a contrast to his unyielding facade that intimidated you earlier.
“Hi.” You reciprocate softly, and it is enough to shoot a Cupid’s arrow to his beating heart. Your voice sounds velvety, a mellow that soothes him.
Jay takes another look at you, blinking his eyes as though you are unreal. “W-Wow. You look—“ He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows a nervous lump in his throat. He softens with an awkward smile that completely charms you. “You look really beautiful.”
“Thank you.” You can’t believe how shy you are right now compared to the yapper you were last night when you texted him for nearly two hours. You take another look at him, feeling a strange flutter in your heart as you admire how he looks delectable in a button-down navy-coloured blouse that displays a teasing peek of his toned chest while his gold necklace complements his metal studs on his earlobes. “And you look really handsome.”
Jay is about to combust right here and now at your compliment that he has heard countless times from the ladies that pinned his attention back then, even more so when you beam at him with a slightly wider smile now. The weight in his hand immediately reminds him of what he intended to do after you opened the door before your breathtaking beauty distracted him.
“This is for you.” Jay extends his hand to you, prompting you to look down at a small bouquet of flowers in his grasp, but you can see the hesitation in the way his hand slowly retracts from you. “Unless you have allergies to flowers, which is totally fine. I can keep it—“
“I don’t have any, so don’t worry.” You reassure him, and without thinking twice, your hand quickly reaches out to accept his sweet gesture, only to feel a faint electricity when your fingers brush against his before you finally grab the bouquet from him. Your heart swells with something unfamiliar as you look at the flowers before meeting his kind gaze. “Thank you for these. It’s the first that someone has ever given me flowers on a first meeting.”
You almost wanted to utter the word ‘date’ because this is certainly not a date but more like a formal meeting with your sugar daddy as part of the first transaction. You mentally berate yourself for hoping for something that you were initially against and the fact that you only intend to regard him as your sugar daddy.
Jay’s bashful shell cracks when he adorns a smirk on his handsome face that has you swooning on the inside. “You can call me old-fashioned.”
“I love old-fashioned.” You decide to play along as you notice the spark of mischief in his eyes, but really, you do love yourself some old-fashioned.
“Are you ready to go?” Jay asks coolly, hoping that he doesn’t sound too eager as to how impatiently desperate he really is to spend the day with you.
“Yes. Just give me a sec.” You tell him while making your way to the shoe compartment, where you also place the bouquet on the counter, before grabbing your ankle-strapped heels.
As you return to him, you busily place your feet onto the heels before attempting to secure the strap around your ankles, only to be surprised when Jay gets down on one knee in front of you, rendering you flabbergasted. “Please. Allow me.” He insists without looking up at you, putting his hands into the task.
“It’s okay. I can do it myself—“ But your protest goes unheard as he secures the straps for you with such gentleness that it sends the weird flutter to your heart again, while the way his fingers brush against your skin feels electrifying.
Your eyes never leave him even after he’s done, his figure towering over yours again despite the heels that elevate your height. “Shall we?” Jay asks with a smile, to which you nod your head at before stepping outside of the threshold and locking the door.
The two of you proceed to make your way to the elevator, silence wrapping around you once more, but only less awkwardly. You chew your bottom lip out of habit, wanting to say something to dispel this awkwardness, but the heat of his body close next to you sends your head into a frenzy.
“Do you live alone?” Jay breaks the ice, and you silently thank him because you were slowly going insane. As soon as he presses the button, the elevator chimes open, and he gestures to you to enter first before he follows suit.
“Sort of.” You answer unsurely, earning a look of intrigue from him. You decide to explain shortly. “I live with my best friend, but ever since she got into a relationship, she’s rarely ever at our shared apartment, not that I minded. She can be quite a headache.”
His lips twitch into a smile, almost as if he’s fond of something. “My best friend’s the same too.” He chuckles lightly, but they sound heavenly in your ears. “What about family? Any siblings?”
“And here I thought it was my turn to ask you a question.” You say cheekily, your lips stretching a little wider as you feel inclined to be frivolous towards him after the lingering awkwardness dissipates into thin air.
His eyes narrow at you in a playful suspicion, followed by a broad smirk on his lips. “You’re a cheeky doll, aren’t you?”
“It’s only fair that I ask you a question after you asked me one.” You say in an airily manner, ignoring how his handsome smirk has your mind in a frenzy once more. “But to answer your question, I’m an only child. My parents are divorced, so I’m kinda my own now. Always have.”
Being an inherent observant that comes with an ability to heed the tone of voice, even the subtlest intonation, Jay recognises the underlying resentment in the neutrality of your voice and how he catches a fleeting sentiment he knows all too well in your eye, but the radiant smile on your face immediately overshadows any traces of somberness, albeit he is quick to grasp that family must be a sensitive topic for you.
“It seems that we have a lot more in common than I thought. I’m an only child too.” Jay says lightly in an attempt to dispel any sour feelings within you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the elevator chimes open, revealing the view of the basement parking lot. He allows you to step out first before he follows suit, guiding you to his vehicle. “So what’s the next question you have for me?”
“What made you become interested in me? You could’ve chosen other sugar babies.” You ask with genuine curiosity. The question has been lingering in the back of your mind all night. As he looks at you with an eyebrow raised, you try to search for something in his eyes, any falsehood or that he’s actually a bad guy with ill intentions, but all you see is the pure kindness that reflects the window of his soul.
“I just had a good feeling about you.” He answers with utmost sincerity, his eyes softening before giving you his signature smirk. “Besides, there was no way I would ever pass up a woman as gorgeous as you.”
A part of you feels so tempted to wipe away that handsome smirk off his face with a kiss, but you immediately ward off any inappropriate thought, diverting your attention to the sleek black Mercedes-Benz, his car.
Jay, being the gentleman he is, opens the passenger door for you, to which you shyly thank him before you carefully settle inside. Not too long later, Jay is right next to you, operating the functions of the vehicle that is wheeling towards where the main road is at.
The silence is accompanied by the music emanating from the radio, but it still isn’t enough to allay the newfound tension settling in your bones. You even distract yourself by discreetly examining the impeccable condition of the car that comes with a pleasant lavender smell before you notice the small bottle of fragrance diffuser that hangs in the air from behind the rearview mirror.
Something different flutters within you; how oddly intensifying it is, but one thing is for sure — you find Jay more dangerously attractive than the first time you felt.
You cave into the temptation to take a glance at him, only to nearly gawk at his strong yet flawless side profile, how his angular jawline looks defined up close. His countenance displays such cool impassivity, exuding an air of confidence compared to your meekness. Your eyes fall to his veiny hands before they travel lower; his sleeves had been pulled to his elbows, allowing the sultry veins that protrude in his arms and revealing a golden Rolex that latched around his wrist. You quickly look away, feeling the gradual heat building up in your body.
You swear that older men are not your type, but Jay may be the first to change that.
“Are you okay?” Jay asks, his soft voice startling you. The way he’s hot, a gentleman, a stickler for cleanliness, and soft-spoken? You must have done something incredibly honourable in your past life.
“Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, daring yourself to look at him as he briefly takes a glance at you before refocusing on the road. Though you still feel diffident, something about him compels you to confide your worries in him. “I just don’t want to mess things up on our first meeting.”
Jay cracks into a humorous smile. “Funny, because I had the same thought earlier.” Oh, he really did, worrying incessantly all morning that he might fuck things up by coming off too desperate for your attention on the first meet.
“Is this a date?” You accidentally blurt out the question you intended to expel, but a part of you is genuinely keen that this is actually a date and not just a formal transactional meeting between a sugar daddy and his sugar baby.
As the traffic light turns red, the car comes to a stop. Jay directs his full attention to you, a gentle smile touching his lips. “You can call it whatever you want, doll.”
You hold his gaze for a little longer, unable to fathom the inscrutable emotions behind the window of his eyes despite the unwavering kindness. You find yourself lifting a smile that mirrors his. “A date it is.”
Jay decides your first destination to be a fine dining restaurant in which he had booked a reservation in advance. Though your empty stomach rumbles lightly in approval, you can’t deny how out of place you are at an upscale restaurant, most especially to be in the presence of upper-class patrons, albeit Jay personally requested a more secluded booth since he values privacy.
Silence settles on your booth, not that you are bothered by it as you are too occupied in marvelling at the sophisticated decors that emphasise their opulence. The ambience feels exquisitely serene with the undercurrent of varying conversations from the other patrons indistinctly in the background, but they seem to tune out completely when your eyes are drawn back to the man seated across from you.
The pendant lights above your booth cast a gentle glow that creates a beautiful halo around his handsome face that is poised with concentration as he reads through the menu while you feel the familiar flutter in your tummy again. Everything about him is so charming, and you don’t think that you could ever get tired of seeing him every day.
When his eyes flicker to you, you immediately look down at the menu in front of you on the table, feigning keen interest as you force yourself to read the names and descriptions of their dishes. You hope he didn’t notice that you had been gazing at him, but your ears perk up at the breathy titter that leaves his lips, causing your face to flush warmly in embarrassment.
“Anything on the menu that interests you?” Jay asks, amusement colouring his tone momentarily before it is replaced by the familiar neutrality of tenderness.
“I’m not sure.” You mutter, your attention now being fixated on the list of dishes, particularly the prices that perturb you, because how can a mere salad cost more than your favourite sandwich at your go-to coffee shop?
Though the bill will undoubtedly be handled by your sugar daddy, you feel highly conscious to choose even just a salad because of how pricey everything on the menu is. You flicker your eyes to him, allowing him to grasp your dubiety. “These look exquisite, but the prices—“
“Have you forgotten who you’re with, doll?” Jay intercepts gently, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on smug, but the assurance in his kind eyes dispels any doubts from your mind. “Don’t worry about the prices. Just order anything you want.”
Your eyes run through the menu again, but you can’t decide on which, eliciting a sigh from you before you look at him apologetically. “I don’t really know what to order.”
“That’s alright, doll.” Jay reassures you with a warm smile before he raises his hand slightly to call one of the waiters over. You watch the interaction between Jay and the waiter, displaying practiced professionalism in his manner as though he had done this many times. “We’d like to have the full course meals alongside your finest wine.”
Your eyes widen at his order. You wait until the waiter collects your menus and leaves your booth. “Isn’t that too much?” You ask Jay unsurely, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.
“Nothing is ever too much.” Jay insists casually while his eyes greedily drink in your pristine beauty under the soft luminescence before they fall to your lustrous, glossed lips that look kissable. He clears his throat, warding off any sensual thoughts of how your lips would feel on his. “Besides, you did indicate in your profile that you’re a foodie.”
You stifle a groan, mentally cursing your best friend for adding unnecessary information about yourself, but then again, she’s not wrong. You are indeed a foodie, a connoisseur of food, according to Sabrina, but it doesn’t mean that you’re skilled at cooking. She even forbade you from touching any kitchen appliances as she was worried about the possibility of you blowing up the apartment, to which you rolled your eyes at her exaggeration.
“Right, how could I forget?” You cast him a sheepish smile before deciding to focus more on him now, your body slanting forward that displays your interest with your elbows resting on the table. “So, a CEO, huh? Must’ve been tough with all the heavy responsibilities that come with being a CEO.”
Though you lack the knowledge of what a CEO’s responsibilities exactly entail, you know enough that the fate of his company rests on his palm, and since you’re at it, you decide to make a mental note to do thorough research about him and his company during your spare time.
“It isn’t so bad. Guess I got accustomed to the work and its volatility.” Jay says coolly, exuding an air of confidence that awes you as you look at him with a newfound reverence. “But my employees are competent and trustworthy, so the company operates smoothly most of the time.”
Jay proceeds to divulge more about his work life, mostly the lighter stuff that gauges your understanding, and you notice how he talks about his employees with high regard, earning a small smile from you as you conclude that he’s not the stereotypical callous CEO that you used to read about in those fiction books.
During mid-conversation, the first courses of your meals arrive, served by the same waiter. The two of you decide to indulge your neglected hungers with a comfortable silence wrapping around you. The silence stretches on even when the second course of your meal arrives, but Jay intermittently checks on you, asking if the food is to your liking or if you need anything else that has your heart fluttering again at how attentive he is to you.
The prior conversation continues when the desserts are served that eventually appease your sweet cravings as the delightful saccharine touches your tongue. He tells you more about himself, particularly his general background, but you notice how he avoids mentioning his family.
“No way!” You gasp in surprise after what he had just revealed, your eyes sparkling with excitement while you feel an odd sense of adrenaline rush; probably the sugar that now invades your system. “You went to the same university as me?”
“Sure did, doll. I have the degree cert to prove it if you don’t believe me.” Jay grins, displaying his perfect teeth while you are distracted by the dimples in his cheeks, melting you on the inside. “I was a business major.”
“I majored in journalism.” You tell him. You know that the world is small, but you didn’t expect it to be that small. Maybe you are being delusional, but maybe the invisible string theory turns out to be true after all. Oh, how this intensifies the strange feelings that perturb your heart as each flutter brushes against it.
“That’s cool. Way better than business.” Jay says with a genuine smile, his eyes sparkling with interest.
You scoff lightly. “I doubt that. I mean, look at where it got you now.” You point out, ignoring the familiar bitterness of the searing truth, that while the people around you are succeeding in life, you are the only one who is falling significantly behind.
“It certainly wasn’t an easy journey because I started out with nothing, not even the support from my parents.” Jay finds himself unravelling the part that he intended to keep hidden, but seeing how evidently a good listener you are, he feels like he can trust someone else other than his best friend to listen to him in a way he wants. “Thankfully, my best friend was there to give me the support I needed, even if he’s a pain in my ass.”
“You don’t have a good relationship with your parents either?” You ask gently without realising that you have given away a hint that confirms his prior suspicions about the reason why the family topic is sensitive to you, not that he fares well with it either, but the burning resentment he harboured for years has now dulled, probably because he has long since come to an acceptance, thanks to the years of detachment from his parents.
“It’s hard to say. I’m still in contact with them, but only when it’s strictly necessary. Truthfully, they’re not exactly the ideal parents for me.” Jay divulges with a thoughtful hum as the memories slowly resurface in his mind, but the pain and resentment that he expected are absent, only a faint bitterness. “My father wanted me to oversee one of his established companies abroad while my mother wanted to marry me off to her business partner’s daughter when I was still a senior in college. But since I didn't want any of those, they threatened to disown me, so I decided to go about being on my own, even when I had nothing at the beginning.”
You feel a burning resentment within you on behalf of him, your face contorting into a displeased frown. You have no idea what sort of hurdles he had to conquer, but you know for a fact that no one deserves to go through it all alone without the support of family, even if the support is only emotional. Though you know that by his demeanour alone he must have made peace with this, the compassion in you towards his backstory hurts your heart.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” You utter softly, your outstretched hand on the table itching to hold his hand to offer him some form of comfort. “You deserve to have parents who fully support you in anything you do.”
“I can say the same to you too, doll.” Jay says with a small yet knowing smile. He slants his body forward. “So, want to tell me more about yourself?”
You don’t really intend to, but you can’t seem to deny him, especially when his kind yet handsome gaze is simply irresistible. You know that he’s genuinely interested, but you fear that his perspective of you might change for the worse, which would lead to him discarding you aside and choosing another sugar baby, albeit you know damn well that most sugar babies had gone through financial tribulations that became the very reason they sought out those dependable older men. Still, you muster the courage, your lips quivering as you begin to speak.
“Nothing much. I’m just a broke alumna who graduated six months ago and who is also unfortunately unable to land a job related to my degree despite graduating with honours and the countless interviews I’ve gone through.” You unravel with practiced casualness, your demeanour betraying none of the turbulence of emotions within you, but then comes the dreadful realisation that rattles your composure as you look away from him. “God, I shouldn’t have said too much.” You mutter under your breath, but he catches onto your words quickly.
“No, honey, don’t be embarrassed with me.” Jay has no idea where the courage comes from, but his hand instinctively reaches out for your outstretched one across the table, holding it tenderly. “I promise you that there’s no judgement when you’re with me. I genuinely want to know more about you, be it your struggles or your hobbies.”
You search for any falsehood in his beautiful eyes, only to find nothing but stark sincerity that forms an emotional lump in your throat, feeling touched that this man, whom you’ve just met hours ago, is willing to genuinely listen to you, and he’s only supposed to be your sugar daddy, not a therapist whom you’re supposed to dump every trauma and problem on, but in this moment, his presence feels comforting in a way that a part of you has deeply yearned for.
“Like I said, there’s nothing interesting about me other than being the unsuccessful independent daughter who got sacked from her barista job.” This time, you don’t bother sugarcoating your words, and you feel less guarded as you continue while he holds your gaze firmly, as though he is silently assuring you that he’s listening with an open mind. “Not to forget that I’m way behind paying my bills. It’s my fault, anyway, since I told Sabrina that she could trust me in paying the utility bills and the rent. How foolish of me.”
Sabrina. That must be your best friend’s name. “Was that why you decided to sign up for this arrangement?” He asks gently, treading with his words carefully while his thumb brushes across your knuckles in delicate strokes, a gesture that sends little flutters to your heart.
“It's pathetic and desperate of me, I know. I should’ve at least tried securing a temporary job first before deciding to pursue this arrangement.” You mutter shamefully, your eyes crestfallen before a huff leaves your lips. “But to be fair, my best friend was the reason why I’m right here with you. She registered me on that app without my consent.”
“It’s not pathetic, honey, and I’m sure you’ve tried enough.” Jay reassures you while he silently thanks your best friend. He stops stroking your knuckles with his thumb and holds your hand firmly instead to draw your attention to his eyes that display emotions you can’t seem to decipher. “But do you regret it? Regret this?”
You haven’t exactly thought of that since most of the time, you were occupied with the annoying flutters in you as well as swooning over him. This time, you hold his hand, a faint smile touching your lips. “You haven’t shown me why I should regret it.”
“I promise you that you won’t regret this. You won’t regret me.” Jay vows with conviction, his eyes hardening with resoluteness that oddly subdues any lingering doubts in your head. He brings your hand to his lips before kissing your knuckle tenderly, his lips warm and soft. “I’ll take good care of you and treat you as you deserve.”
“I don’t deserve anything.” You manage to utter despite the butterflies in your tummy, but they dwindle as your insecurities resurface, prompting you to avoid his gaze as you continue to unravel without faltering in the way you speak. “It’s obvious that I’m a failure. I used to be an overachiever and excel throughout my academic years, but looking at my situation now, it proves that I’m nothing without academics.”
“That isn’t true, honey.” Jay counters with a frown, hating how you’re disparaging yourself. “It’s normal to feel lost, having no idea what you truly want to do after graduating from university. You’re not alone on this, so don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s only been six months since your graduation, right? Give yourself some time.”
You look at him with a sliver display of exasperation. “For how long should I give myself some time? I just—” You hold your tongue just when you feel the tremor in your throat before forcing your voice to remain steady. “I just don’t want to feel helpless and useless all the time. I’m tired of feeling guilty about being unemployed. It brings me shame, especially when my ex-peers are thriving in their stable careers and their lives.” You say bitterly. “I feel like I’m stuck in this loop where nothing is ever going to work out for me no matter how many times I try.”
“Not everyone’s journey is going to be the same, just like how everyone’s pace in life is different.” Jay feels inclined to give you words of wisdom, needing to uplift your disheartened spirit despite your collected demeanour. “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean that you’re a failure. Life is not all about work, you know?”
You can’t help the scoff escaping your lips, smiling wryly. “Says the guy who has been working hard for years to get to where he is now.”
Jay chuckles at the irony, the sound rich and pleasant in your ears. “Fair enough, honey. But the point I’m trying to make is that you don’t have to constantly pressure yourself about getting employed. There is more to life than just work, and you’re still young to stress yourself out about this.”
“Well, the bills aren’t about to be paid by themselves and the current inflation in today’s capitalism is definitely wonderful.” You point out the obvious, sarcasm lacing your tone.
Jay dismisses your remark. “And you mentioned that you were working as a barista, right?” He asks for confirmation, and you nod your head, earning a small smile from him. “That’s an accomplishment too, because you put in efforts to make a living, so you shouldn’t belittle yourself.”
“But I got sacked.” You tell him dejectedly, only to feel his hand squeezing yours comfortingly.
“It’s not your fault that the management was shitty.” Jay says so vehemently. “Besides, it’s their loss for losing a meticulously dedicated employee like you.”
“How would you know that?” You frown, your lips naturally jutting into a pout that captures his attention briefly before his eyes return to yours. “For all you know, I could be the type of employee that often slacks during her shift.”
“I can easily tell just by your personality alone. Plus, my judgement is never wrong.” He smirks, and oddly, you feel assured by him. His eyes roam around your face before they soften. “Don’t be too hard on yourself anymore, honey. You have me to depend on now. Allow me to ease some of your burdens.”
“That’s the thing. I’m not used to depending on anyone.” You find it strange how you easily divulge the hardest yet obstinate part of yourself that you refuse to let anyone know, including your best friend. Heck, even a small part of you is still debating whether or not to cancel this transactional relationship that barely begins.
“Like I said, I’ll take good care of you, so don’t worry too much.” Jay reaffirms, his tone being a constant gentleness yet firm enough for you to note that he genuinely means every word he says. “Just let me spend my money and time on you like you deserve, doll.”
Your breath hitches when he brings your hand to his lips, but this time, kissing your palm tenderly while his kind eyes never leave yours. “I’m sorry for dumping almost everything on you on our first date. I never intended to make things depressing.” You say sorrowfully, your eyes crestfallen.
“Don’t apologise. Something told me that you needed someone to listen to you.” He presses his lips into your palm again, and you can feel his smile. “And I’m glad to be that someone.”
“I did.” You tell him honestly, feeling a weight on your shoulders being lifted while appreciation gleams in your eyes. “Thank you, Jay.”
“Don’t thank me yet, doll. Our date is far from over.”
And Jay proves you right, because after giving the waiter who served you earlier a big tip as well as paying the bill, he drives you to the high-end shopping mall, which is a twenty-minute drive, and where you eventually discover that it has tonnes of flagship stores of luxury brands.
You don’t even have a say when Jay drags you over to a store, to which you are familiar with the brand since you have always wanted to own a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace, but it costs more than your salary as a barista. Of course, you have expected that Jay surely intended to spend his money on you, as any sugar daddy would, but still, you are very much surprised by how he easily whips out his black card to pay for your jewellery that he personally picked for you — a vintage Alhambra pendant necklace and bracelet.
Just when you think Jay is done, he guides you to another designer brand store, his hand clasping yours, bringing warmth to you. You genuinely have no say in anything, as he seems very determined to get you anything, no matter the price. Though you feel incredibly grateful to him, you begin to feel the exhaustion of just trying on and changing to different designer clothes for the past thirty minutes while he often does an examination on you before either approving or disapproving the designers you wear.
You look at your reflection in the mirror as you are adorned in, hopefully, the last dress that he picked for you earlier. You calm your nerves as you step out of the fitting room because you can't actually handle the way his dark eyes roam around your figure with such intensity for much longer.
“Is this okay?” You ask awkwardly, standing in his view while he is quick to put away his phone, only for him to almost choke on his saliva at your stunning visual, how the dress accentuates your contours impeccably. You frown, noticing how flustered he looks compared to how he was earlier. “Jay?”
Instead of responding to you, Jay shifts his eyes to the staff that has been assisting the two of you. “I need another dress that is similar to this one and get it packed along with the other dresses.”
You splutter in disbelief, attempting to protest that there are already more than enough clothes he picked, but Jay intercepts as he insistently guides you back into the fitting room with both hands on your bare shoulders, his warmth triggering the heat that builds up within you.
You have no idea if it is a norm for sugar daddies to pamper their sugar babies with the interests and hobbies that have been indicated on their profiles, but Jay sure is committed to yours, because the next thing you know, he has brought you to the famous book store that is a ten-minute drive from the mall you were previously at, and possibly the biggest one you have ever stepped foot into.
No complaints from you, though, because the moment you are surrounded by towering multi-tiered shelves, the book lover inside of you is elated. You don’t own many books since you already have the Kindle device, as it is convenient for you to browse, purchase, and read the ebooks of your liking. Ebooks are generally cheaper than physical books anyway.
So you take this opportunity to search for the next book that is connected to your favourite series since the author made the announcement on Instagram that book two has been published in printed copies. You hope that this book store has them.
“You really do like reading.” Jay lets out a breathy chuckle, feeling amused by your apparent enthusiasm as your eyes are practically sparkling while you seem to be searching for a particular book across the shelves.
“I love reading, specifically romance novels.” You correct him, your keen eyes never leaving the middle row until you spot the familiar book cover, eliciting an excited gasp from you. “No way! It’s here!”
Jay smirks, finding you adorable because you look like you have just won a lottery, and it deeply pleases him to see the radiance in your countenance, devoid of any worries or doubts. From the corner of his eye, he spots a stack of empty baskets at the side and decides to grab one before giving it to you. “Here.”
You blink your eyes at him, your eyebrows slowly furrowing. “But I only need one book, which is this.”
But Jay is insistent, a trait that you have yet to get accustomed to. His eyes are firm with resolution, but there is a hint of softness. “Get yourselves some more, doll.”
Since Jay obviously wouldn’t tolerate your refusal any further, you grab the basket from him before venturing aisle after aisle while he trails behind you silently, not that you mind. You also find yourself babbling to him about the books that capture your interest and the ones that you are familiar with while he listens attentively and gives his input whenever appropriate.
“I kind of had a feeling that you’d be the type to be into romance novels.” Jay points out his observation after taking note of every synopsis of the book that you babbled to him and noticing a specific element that relates to his current predicament.
“It’s probably the reason why I’m a hopeless romantic. Real life romantic love can never be compared to the written love on pages I’ve read.” You shrug your shoulders, missing the way he gazes at you with a peculiar longing as you eye down the books of your choosing in the basket that feels a little weighty in your grasp. “Plus, I love reading about love, even if that kind of love only exists in fiction.”
“I can make the love you want happen.” Jay accidentally blurts out what has been on his mind but realises that it’s a mistake as you tense up before looking at him with wide eyes. Shit, he fucked up.
You blink your eyes at him, feeling taken aback by what you have just heard. “Pardon?”
“Uh, I mean, we could recreate any romantic scene in one of your favourite books if you want?” His rambles only make things worse for him, and for the first time, he looks completely flustered with his cheeks a faint hue of pink as he avoids your gaze. Before you can say anything, he grabs the basket from you in haste. “Forget anything I said.”
You are rendered speechless as you remain unmoving, your eyes never straying from his handsome figure while he makes his way to the checkout counter. Even from the back view, you can tell that he is still flustered. Your heart flutters again, and you can’t count how many times you have felt this odd sensation. But one thing you are certain of is that Jay being bashful is now your favourite sight to see.
After another round trip of shopping and desserts, Jay decides to send you back to the apartment since the time nearly strikes ten and the way your countenance seems a tad weary. He even insists on helping to carry every shopping bag into your apartment, but you refuse to let him do all the work, and since you are so obstinate, he allows you to carry the lighter bags.
“Your place looks homey, and it’s so you.” Jay remarks as he takes in his surroundings after placing the shopping bags on the coffee table, feeling an odd sense of tranquillity, the overall decor a polar opposite to his minimalist place. He meets your shy gaze and casts you a handsome smile that makes his dimples prominent on his cheeks. “I like it.”
“Since Sab now practically lives at her boyfriend’s, I thought that I should decorate the place to my liking.” You say with a sheepish smile before softening with a gratitude delicacy draping over your demeanour. “Thank you for buying me all of these. You didn’t have to, especially since we only met today.”
“Spoiling you is now part of my job, doll.” Jay drawls playfully, smirking when he sees you reciprocate with a playful eye roll.
“I mean it when I say I really appreciate your kindness and sweet gestures. Thank you, Jay.” You have no idea what overcomes the diffidence, but with one step towards him, you lean forward, tiptoeing just slightly to press your lips into his cheek and giving him a kiss of your gratitude, but your head spins as his strong cologne infiltrates your senses once more. He even smells as good as he looks.
Your lips linger on the soft texture of his skin before you pull away and look at him, only to feel your cheeks burning at the intensity of his gaze, leaving you to wonder if what you did pleased him or not. “So, I guess this is it.” You smile awkwardly.
“Don’t look so disappointed now, doll. You’re stuck with me, so you’ll be seeing my face more often.” Jay says, his tone holding a promise. “I’ll let you know our dates in advance, and I’ll surely fit you into my schedules.”
You give him a smile of assurance. “It’s okay. I know you’re a busy man, so you don’t have to do all that—” Your heartbeat goes erratic when he takes a step forward, closing the distance between your bodies.
His dark eyes are devoid of the familiar softness, only an unfamiliar intensity that seems to take your breath away. “You can’t stop a man from what he wants, doll.” His voice is low, a palpable husk of something igniting a different type of heat within you.
“And what do you want?” You ask breathlessly, holding his strong gaze that continues to melt you on the inside. Your eyes fall to his lips, and you feel tempted to close the gap just to feel what the texture of his lips feels like. Are they as soft as they look?
The tension is short-lived when Jay leans down and presses his lips into your cheek, but dangerously close to the corner of your lips that intensifies the flutters in your heart, giving you a chaste kiss that now burns in your memory. He slowly pulls away and casts you a small smile. “Have a good night's rest, honey. I’ll see you soon.”
As soon as Jay steps out of your apartment, you finally give in to your buckling knees, holding onto the armrest of the couch for support while you allow your mind to spiral into a different type of chaos. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would have already scream from what just happened.
You’ve been kissed before, particularly on the lips, but no kiss has ever affected you this much, and it’s only a damn kiss on the cheek from your sugar daddy.
Just when you recover from freaking out over the smallest thing, your phone chimes loudly in your purse. You take it out to check, and you nearly experience a heart attack when you read the familiar notification of your digibank and another from Jay. The amount is significantly higher than your previous salary, and no doubt it will sustain you more than enough for a month.
[ A payment of $3000 has been transferred to your account ]
JAY: Hope you received the transfer, doll. You deserve it.
Days eventually blend into weeks ever since the transactional relationship with your sugar daddy has been established, and everything has been going smoothly, including the fact that you managed to pay off your monthly utility bills and the rent that were haunting you.
Initially, you felt conflicted about this arrangement, how the fundamental core of your independence remained obstinate in going against accepting any form of help, but somehow, he easily managed to erode the fire within you with his benevolence and compassion that didn’t feel overbearing.
So in a way, you submitted to him, essentially peeling off a layer of your vulnerability. He also earned your trust that you now seek solace in him despite him being your sugar daddy, but that’s the thing. You know that you only regard him as your sugar daddy, so why do you feel as though the two of you are genuine friends with benefits instead, except that there is no actual explicit exchange?
It is truly confounding to you because the fleeting spark of desire in those lustrous brown eyes of his is not lost on you whenever he gazes at you, particularly the times when the apparel displays your contours or excessive skin, but he remains steadily courteous, which feels peculiar to you since men like him obviously have needs, especially older men, according to your best friend. Honestly, a part of you wouldn’t even mind if he wanted to go beyond this friendliness, considering that it has been so long since you had sex.
Still, you have no complaints about this as you feel content with your current dynamic with him that you often forget that he’s your actual sugar daddy, and for the first time compared to your past experiences with men, everything he does and the words he speaks feel genuine with no perverse intent — how he has never asked for any inappropriate pics from you or told you crude remarks, how he never crosses boundaries except holding hands and sweet cheek kisses, how he validates your feelings, and most especially how he actually pays attention to you and listens to you.
Perhaps it’s the very reason why you instantly thought of Jay when you were being summoned by the inevitable once-in-a-blue dinner with your mother and her family during the phone call, but it felt more like your mother emphatically demanded your attendance since you purposely missed the last dinner.
Hence, Jay is currently driving you to the dreadful destination that has been ruffling your peace of mind while you struggle to maintain your perfect composure, hoping that he wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary about you other than the unusual yet stark silence from you.
But little do you know that Jay has noticed your discomposure in the way he recognises your habits whenever something rattles you — how your twitchy fingers often fiddle together, your eyes refusing to meet his, your bottom lip tucking in between your teeth every so often, and your eyebrows softly knitting together. It upsets him how you are clearly in distress despite your poised demeanour, and he wants nothing more than to relieve you.
“I’m sorry for asking you to come with me. You probably had other matters to attend to.” You break the ice, your delicate yet apologetic tone eliciting a disapproving frown from him. He takes his eyes off the road briefly to look at you, and he nearly feels tempted to change the destination at the look in your pretty yet frail eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need you and your support, especially since my mom is expecting you.”
Jay would feel honoured that one of your parents wanted to meet him since, according to you, you told your mother that he’s your boyfriend instead of a sugar daddy, which was more than understandable, if it weren’t for the fact that you obviously don’t seem the slightest bit happy to see her. He already develops a distaste for your mother. He has a strong inkling that you often receive mistreatment from her.
“If you apologise another time, I might have to do something to your lips.” He playfully warns, his remark eliciting a familiar flutter within you at the possible implication, but you continue to look at him apologetically. “Please, doll, if anything, I’m more flattered that you need my support and the fact that I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” Though the words ‘fake boyfriend’ leave his lips so easily, they definitely leave a bitter taste on his tongue.
You briefly divert your attention to the road ahead, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers that tempt him to hold your hand. “My mother, she can be quite overbearing, always nitpicking and criticising everything I do.” You say dryly, deciding to preface a little of what he can most likely expect later. “Plus, it’s been a year since I last saw her, so she definitely has a lot more to say to my face.”
Jay raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “A year?”
“We don’t really have a good relationship.” You explain shortly, trying your best not to sound so brusque as you speak to him, but just the thought of your mother simply triggers you deeply. “Between my mother and father, I prefer my father’s company than hers even though he’s more absent compared to her. He has never cared much about me. They both don’t.” A dry chuckle leaves your lips. “I’m just the product of their failed marriage. It was doomed since the beginning.”
This time, Jay doesn’t bother holding back as he reaches for your hand while the other remains controlling the steering wheel. “I’m sorry to hear that, doll. You deserved so much better.” He looks at you again, frowning deeply as the worry is still evident in your countenance. “Hey, it’ll be okay because I’ll be right next to you throughout the dinner. Anything your mother may say will do nothing to change my feelings for you.” He reassures you softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.
You instantly feel at ease just by his familiar touch. You give him your gratitude with a smile as you squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Jay.”
“I’d prefer you to call me honey or baby.” He briefly glances at you with an effortless smirk, sending the flutters to your tummy. “You know, to convince your mother that I’m your actual boyfriend instead of your sugar daddy.”
Your smile falters slightly at the reminder. “Right. She would probably beat my ass if she knew the truth.”
He places a quick kiss on the back of your hand. “I’ll protect your ass, doll. Besides, your pretty ass is mine.”
Warmth weaves in your every vein while your cheeks go aflame at how casual those words left his lips. “Jay.” You attempt to chide him but fail miserably when he shoots you another smirk before giving a kiss on your palm.
Comfortable silence accompanies you throughout the rest of your ride, and not once did he ever let go of your hand, intermittently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while you feel the incessant flutters at how he’s holding your hand with such reverence despite the firmness.
When Jay finally pulls up at the familiar driveway, your mood instantly sours, but with him by your side, you feel a little confident, knowing that you can get past this. You just have to endure the impending charade and tolerate whatever bullshit your mother and her family decide to provoke you with, but you definitely did not expect the type of bullshit where your stepsisters are quick to wear familiar masks that display their attraction towards your sugar daddy the moment you walk past the threshold.
“Y/N.” Your mother comes into view, and for the first time, you feel grateful to her as your stepsisters’ tactics in vying for Jay’s attention have come to a stop.
“Mother.” You greet her in return, albeit tightly, as the familiar tension begins to brew in the air that even Jay can sense.
Jay quickly scans your mother, taking note of the familiarity of her elegance and sophistication in the way she dresses and the ambiance she exudes, reminding him of the elite ladies he had come across throughout his experiences in the business industry. Still, he finds her unimpressive, especially in the way her steely eyes are staring down at you with faint disdain.
Your mother shifts her gaze to him, seeming to be assessing him. “And I presume you are the boyfriend?” Her tone is as sharp as a knife, while the smile gracing her lips looks deceptive.
“Yes, he is.” You step in to speak even before he could introduce himself out of courtesy despite his distaste towards your mother. He notices the undertone of protectiveness in your demeanour, to which he suppresses a smile.
Your mother scans him for another time. “Dinner is not ready yet, but you can make yourself at home.” She says kindly to him while he hides the frown behind his mask at how she seems to be deliberately ignoring you.
Your mother pivots on her heels at the same time you drag him by the hand as you make your way towards the living room, but of course, your stepsisters continue their tactics until you cast them a withering glare, nearly wanting to wrestle each of them for thirsting over your man. Thankfully, they relent after you pull a stunt that indicates no possible way for their flirtatious attempt.
“Let me guess, they’re fakes?” Jay murmurs to you, his low timbre sending an unfamiliar blistering heat to your body, enough to distract you from the fury within you after having to witness your three stepsisters being brazenly flirtatious in front of you earlier, not that Jay reciprocated. In fact, the sight was just as painful as it was laughable despite your annoyance because he clearly wasn’t the slightest bit interested.
“Yeah.” You mutter back, hoping that you don’t sound too breathless, but the nonexistent space between you and him is not helping with how your head is in a frenzy as you are seated on top of his lap sideways to deliberately show your stepsisters that he’s yours.
Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as his hands roam around your waistline, as though he’s trying to memorise your curve while your arms around his neck loosen just slightly. You continue to speak, forcing your voice to come out strong. “They’re insufferable. Don’t be fooled by their acts. They’re probably coming up with another scheme to steal you away from me.”
Jay examines your face, and he recognises a fiery jealousy gleaming in your eye, eliciting an amused smirk from him. “Don’t worry, doll. I have my eyes on you only, and you’re the only woman worthy of my attention.” He hums, leaning forward to press his lips into your temple, an affection that leaves you breathless. “Which is why I chose you in the first place.”
“You know, you don’t have to start acting again.” You whisper softly as you look at him in the eyes daringly despite the warm flush in your cheeks. “My mother’s not even here.”
The familiar softness in his pretty eyes smoulders with an inscrutable emotion while his face is devoid of any mischief. “Who said I was acting?” His voice is a low husk, palpable with desire.
Your eyes accidentally fall to his lips, noticing how close the distance between your lips and his is. Just before you can cave into the familiar spark of temptation, your attention is being pulled away by your oldest stepsister, who is three years older than you, begrudgingly informing you to head over to the dining hall. A triumphant smirk curls on your lips when you recognise the jealousy in her eyes as you remain seated on his lap.
But you certainly don’t feel as triumphant as you were the moment you find yourself seated across from your mother, despite Jay’s presence being a constant support right next to you. You have yet to properly converse with your mother except for the earlier exchange of greetings, not that you intended to, as you can’t wait for this charade to end. You hope that your mother will not pull any usual captious stunt of hers, but knowing her, you can expect the worst.
You take a stealthy glance at your surroundings, hating how you are in the same space as the people you loathe. Though your mother and her family seem refinedly harmonious, you can see past this repulsive charade, knowing that it is only a matter of time before hell breaks loose, just like any other dinner you had with them in the past.
“So, Jay,” Your mother speaks up, causing you to tense up as you stop twirling the spaghetti with your fork rather absentmindedly. “Y/N informed me that you’re a CEO.”
A strategic opening that you recognise all too well, to which you nearly roll your eyes at. Of course, she would bring up careers first since she’s a businesswoman herself. You don’t bother to look up at her, but from the corner of your eyes, Jay seems casual, completely unaffected by this brewing tension only you feel.
“Yes, that’s right.” Jay confirms politely, though he doesn’t sound exactly amiable, but his demeanour is an unwavering neutrality, as if nothing and not even your mother’s possible strike could ever sway him.
“How long have you been dating my daughter?” Your mother asks, to which you begin to feel like she’s interrogating instead, your eye twitching in annoyance.
“For a year now.” Jay answers smoothly while you feel thankful for how he manages to think of an answer instantly, considering that you didn’t exactly discuss with him the thoroughly made-up story of your love lives.
“We met through a mutual friend.” You decide to add a lie, but your mother’s attention is solely fixated on him with a perverse interest that you recognise, causing your fist to clench under the table.
As you observe your mother, you see the way her icy gaze scrutinises him, as though something about him evokes suspicion within her. “And how old are you?”
“Mom.” You warn, not holding back this time, whatever it takes to defend your man against your birth giver. Your mother finally locks eyes with you, how they are devoid of affection or warmth that are only reserved to your stepsisters despite two of them not being your mother’s biological daughters.
“Thirty-four.” Jay barely feels offended about the question as he answers with ease, but he surely is displeased by how unnerved you are because of your mother.
Your mother directs her eyes at Jay, her lips frowning. “Aren’t you a little old for my daughter?”
You really don’t have the patience for this. You set down your fork on the marbled surface with a sharp clink of finality. “Mother, that’s enough.” Your tone is enough for the rest of her family to resort to silence as they direct their attention to the familiar spectacle of animosity between you and her.
But your mother completely disregards your entire existence as she continues to speak to him with a calculated casualness. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m merely concerned about why a man of class such as yourself decided to settle for less than he deserved. Shouldn’t you date women who are more in your league with competent qualities?”
Ah, there it is, the ultimate aim to obliterate your self-esteem by obliquely humiliating you in front of your pretend lover, because your mother clearly despises seeing you happy. The familiarity of it all brings a faintly bitter smile to your lips.
“Agreed.” Your stepsister, who is three years younger than you, Chloe, chimes; her cheery voice repulses you the same when you catch her shooting you a taunting look just briefly. “Quite frankly, you deserve way better than our sister.” You don’t have the opportunity to utter a remark at her when your mother swiftly intervenes.
“Let me introduce you to my second oldest. Mia. She’s the same age as Y/N, but she has achieved many things compared to her peers.” Your mother flagrantly gestures to Mia, who is clearly pleased to have Jay’s attention to her now as she casts him a coquettish smile. “She managed to land employment in a corporation shortly after her graduation, and she’s an accountant, which I’m sure you two would have a lot more in common with.”
You refuse to look away from your vile mother, your eyes smouldering with an intensity that parallels the torrential storms of emotions within you while you struggle to preserve your composure. The weight of your wrath overwhelms the familiar wounds festering in your heart.
“Our oldest daughter, who is twenty-five, is a—”
“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t pretty much care for all of those.” Jay interrupts sharply, his tone pulling your attention away from your mother. The intensity in your eyes dwindles as you observe his countenance carefully, how he is undeniably frustrated but remains poised.
“I fell in love with your daughter not because of her job title or what she has to offer. I fell in love with her because of how much of an amazing woman she actually is.” He declares firmly with an irrevocable resolution before turning his head to meet your slightly widened eyes while your heart is pounding hard against your ribcage. “She understands me better than anyone else, and we connect well with each other. I don’t think I could ever be in love with anyone else that is not her. Your daughter truly is unforgettable.”
Your eyes never leave his while your surroundings fade into insignificance that not even the sudden pin-drop silence perturbs you. How peculiar, you think. Jay speaks those words with such ease and sincerity that it feels natural, as though he had prepared this in advance in order to deceive your mother and her family with this facade of your relationship, but his beautiful brown eyes speak volumes, and he looks like he’s completely enamoured by you.
Your mother clears her throat sharply, prompting you to break eye contact first. “I admire your devotion and loyalty to my daughter. Such a rare quality in men nowadays.” Her cordial tone is just as artificial as the smile on her red lips. “But to give you a piece of advice based on my experience, love alone is not enough to keep your relationship stable.”
The prior anger returns tenfold as it feels blistering in your veins. Even Jay’s presence next to you no longer feels like a tether to temperate in from acting impulsively on your emotions. “I don’t recall us asking you for relationship advice. An unsolicited one, at that.” You say too calmly, a deadly one that bristles two of your stepsisters.
“As your mother, I ought to give young lovers such as yourselves some advice. I know better than you do.” Your mother snaps, and finally the mask is off, now revealing her ire towards you with glaring eyes that level with yours. “And while we’re at it, you shouldn’t be in a relationship where you have nothing to offer to your significant other. For goodness sake, you’re not financially stable! You’re not even responsible enough to be a proper adult with a stable job!”
Silence settles right after her outburst, but it intensifies the tension in the atmosphere that is palpable to your senses. You look at her with an unwavering resoluteness, refusing to give in to her satisfaction of successfully breaking you once more. A humourless chuckle leaves your lips, shattering the deadly silence. You have no idea where this odd humour came from, but this time, you laugh out as though you find the situation hilarious while your mother eyes you warily as if you’re insane.
“God, I knew you’d reveal your true colours sooner or later.” You snarl coldly after swiftly recovering yourself, taking them by complete surprise. “You did not invite me over just for dinner — you wanted to humiliate and criticise me as if I didn’t have any dignity, like you always do, and deliberately at that once you got to know that I’d be bringing my boyfriend along with me.”
You can feel his eyes on you at the strong emphasis, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not when he’s witnessing the raw, ugly truth of your relationship with your mother when he shouldn’t be, bringing you to shame.
Your mother’s glare is as penetrating as her hatred for you. “A sophisticated man like him should be informed what kind of a woman and a daughter you really are.”
“Definitely not your daughter, not anymore.” You retort, your body trembling with the onslaught of emotions that expel any rationality within you. You can even barely register the familiar warmth of Jay’s hand on yours as you intend to lash out with what you’ve buried for years. “You stopped being my mother the moment you decided to abandon me ten years ago by choosing your new family over me and father, and now you have the audacity to judge and criticise me in front of the love of my life?!”
You nearly scoff at the audacity of hurt in her eyes. “How could you say that to your own mother?!” She shouts angrily, and she harshly brushes off her husband’s attempt to calm her. “You were the one who chose to walk away from me! You rejected my calls and messages, so how dare you—”
The maelstrom of emotions within you propels you to rise abruptly, towering over your mother’s seething figure. “Can you even blame me?! You walked away first! So you don’t have the right to be upset when I was the one who constantly tried reaching out to you first when I needed you!” Amidst the sheer anger in your voice, there is a discernible crack that Jay recognises. The back of your eyes begins to burn familiarly, but your glaring wrath never strays from her. “But you prioritised your new family more than you ever did with me! You were barely a presence in my life even when I was a youngling! You didn’t even attend any of my graduations!"
“I’m glad I didn’t attend your university graduation months ago. It would’ve been a waste of my time because look at how you turned out to be! A useless woman who has no sense of her identity!” Your mother strikes down the part of you that you have always struggled with acceptance, causing you to falter from within.
She continues to lambast you with her familiar cruelty while you can feel the weight of devastation in your chest suffocating you. “You don’t even have a job to sustain yourself. And you have the gall to be in a relationship with a man who deserves more than what he settles for? You bring shame to your father and me! I refuse to be known as someone who shares the same blood as you.”
Still, your demeanour remains unyielding as you clench your jaw. “Then I guess we can come to an agreement that neither of us should continue whatever ties we had, not that it existed in the first place, considering you’ve been an absent mother since day one.” You tell her calmly with an icy finality. “Don’t worry about being embarrassed of me any longer, because I promise you that this is the last time I’ll ever be associated with you and the last time you’ll see my face. I’m better off without you, always have.”
There is a fleeting emotion in her eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s regret or satisfaction, but you couldn’t care less as you grab your purse on your chair. “Y/N.” She calls for you, her tone indicating that she’s not done with you.
Without looking at her, you grab Jay’s hand while he is quick on his feet. You inhale deeply before forcing yourself to look at your birth giver right in the eyes with burning resentment. “Thanks for the dinner. The food's bland, by the way. Might want to hire a private chef since cooking is obviously not your specialty.”
You immediately depart from the dining hall with your pretend lover, even when she’s yelling furiously at you about your insolence and the strings of words about how you could never survive without her. You continue to walk away, not even realising that you’re gripping his hand so tight, but he doesn’t make any remark, and neither do you.
The silence prevails even after you have settled in the passenger seat, mastering avoidance as you refuse to look at the man next to you, because you know that it takes one look at his face for your resolve to crumble.
Jay feels like there is an intangible wall that prevents him from getting to you despite being in the same vicinity, how utterly helpless he is when you have clearly established your avoidance, but still, he needs to try. His grip on the steering wheel loosens just slightly as he looks at you. “Honey…"
You draw in a sharp inhalation as his mellow tone affects you just as easily. “Just drive, please.” You utter a soft plea while your throat hurts from the emotions that form into a painful lump.
Thankfully, Jay complies as he operates the functions that propel his vehicle to finally depart from the mansion that you won’t ever step foot into again, but your heightened senses detect the tension emanating from him, and even from the corner of your eye, his chiselled jaw looks taut just the same as his flinty countenance.
You shove down the bitterness at the presumption of him being frustrated at you, but it only seems to hurt your already wounded heart. You wonder what he thinks of you now after the relentless humiliation from your birth giver. You wonder if he’s reevaluating his judgement for choosing you.
You don’t even realise that you have been spiralling in the tumult of your emotions until the vehicle abruptly comes to a stop, prompting your focus on the view ahead. “Where have you brought me?” You ask him with a confused frown.
“Central Park. I figured that you needed some air.” Jay says lightly, his face unreadable as he looks at you, but a small smile touches his lips. “Come on.”
The next thing you know, you are walking hand-in-hand with Jay along the pavement at the park in comfortable silence while enjoying the evening breeze. Though the storms in your head remain unabating, you feel an odd sense of peace after the realisation that you managed to bravely sever any ties with your birth giver, which was long overdue.
You take a glance at him, your wounded heart bearing a flutter that soothes the ache faintly. But then comes the immense guilt that aggravates your emotions. “Thank you, Jay.” Your voice sounds fragile, unlike anything he’s ever heard. “And I’m sorry.”
Jay frowns, hating how unapologetically you look as your eyes are filled with immense guilt. “What are you sorry for?”
“You shouldn’t have witnessed that.” You tell him honestly, halting your steps as you force yourself to let go of his hand, berating yourself for how undeserving you are of his warmth. You don’t look at him even as you continue to deliver your heartfelt apology, but your breathing goes rapidly. “I’m really sorry that you had to deal with my mother, and I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It was improper of me—”
“Calm down, honey.” He places his hands on your shoulders, his tone being carefully measured but never losing its mellowness. His firm eyes search for yours, noticing how shaky your pupils are. “You have nothing to apologise for. You were upset and angry, rightfully so. Your own mother shouldn’t have humiliated you in the first place, let alone in front of a guest. It was improper of her.”
Jay knows it all too well, as he too had to face such humiliation from his father back when he was a fresh graduate, and if he’s being honest, he felt slightly triggered by the earlier spectacle, as it reminded him of the similar situation he once was in. Personally, you handled it far better than he did, how you never seemed to lose your composure even when he felt your hand trembling earlier, but your demeanour was admirably unyielding.
The stark sincerity emanating from him compels you to divulge more truths that you still resent. “She humiliated me in front of my ex-colleagues too when I was still working as a barista.” You say dejectedly while you struggle to fight against the emotions that threaten to leak in a torrent. “She didn’t approve of it and said that it's a job for uneducated drop-off college students.”
Jay scoffs in disbelief, anger burning in his chest because there is one thing that he absolutely despises, and it is the condescending people when it comes to a person’s occupation that they undervalue its importance simply because it is not up to their standards, such as your mother.
“That’s ridiculous. Being a barista is just like any other job. You were making an honest living.” He says harshly, shocking you at the display of ire that you had never once seen, but you know that it is not directed to you.
You know that you should stop from going further, but for the first time, you feel seen by someone in a way that you have longed for. “I even told her over the last phone call that I went for multiple interviews for jobs that were equivalent to my degree, but she shut me down, berating me for not being good enough, for not being worthy in anyone’s eyes, not even hers.” You release a shaky breath as you look down, blinking away the tears from blurring your vision. “Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m the problem because I didn’t try hard enough.”
Jay grabs you by the chin firmly before lifting your head up, his eyes hardened with resolve that feels oddly comforting to you. “Don’t let your mother’s words get to you, or even the judgement of others. They have no idea how amazing you truly are and how you are more than what they choose to see.” He speaks with such confidence that he almost fooled you into believing that you are enough, but the soft plea in his tone strikes a chord in you. “So please, don’t ever think or speak lowly of yourself.”
You don’t respond, knowing that you will return to the same cycle, but he is not having any of that as he cups your cheeks, forcing your eyes to maintain eye contact with him. “I need you to promise me, honey.” How peculiar, you think, to see such desperation that lies behind the devastation in his beautiful brown eyes, as though he is beseeching you not to lose yourself in the familiar spiral. “Promise me that you won’t ever discredit and belittle yourself anymore.”
“I promise.” You state emphatically, needing to reassure him as you have come to loathe how he seems to be hurting on your behalf. How peculiar, you think, as you are able to read through him when he’s usually enigmatic despite his gentleness and unexpected mischief.
Jay sighs softly before leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on the forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the warmth of his lips on your skin, but it is odd how it takes just a kiss on the forehead for the dam to break.
“I hate her.” You whisper, your voice fragile as it breaks in between while you struggle to restrain the whirlwind of emotions within you. You latch your fingers around his wrist, needing him to hold you still. “I hate her so much.”
Jay slowly pulls away from your forehead to look at you, his eyes softening as he recognises the emotions that you silently battle behind the windows of your beautiful eyes.
“Your feelings are valid, baby.” Jay says gently, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “You know, you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to depend on someone else for once. It’s okay to cry too.”
Despite the weeks of pampering you with his time and wealth, Jay notices one trait of you that remains unbending, even after his generous assurance, and that is how you often refuse to accept anything from him other than money, since your relationship is still an official transaction, even though it would end up futile for you as he is just as obstinate as you. You remind him of himself back when he had nothing except to involuntarily depend on his best friend. It is truly a bittersweet feeling. Sometimes, he sees himself in you, as though you’re his twin flame despite the differences in your personalities.
A part of you still refuses to showcase your sheer vulnerability, how it remains guarded despite him having already earned your trust, but when you gaze deeply into his warm, kind eyes, the back of your eyes sting unbearably that they begin to accumulate rapidly with the tears you have been fighting off.
“I’m not useless.” You tell him brokenly, a tear rolling down your cheek that he gently wipes away with his thumb.
Jay adorns a small smile that reflects his warm kindness, which only seems to break you apart from within. “I know you’re not, doll. You never were.” His tone is so gentle and so soothing, but it easily devastates the surge of emotions that have been vying to dominate your teetering composure.
“I tried.” You plead truthfully as the memories of those hardships you have gone through play in your mind, but your voice continuously cracks the same way the last of your resolve crumbles. An accidental sob escapes you. “I tried my best. I really did.”
It hurts his heart to see you being so broken and defeated when you usually look indestructible, as if no one can ever shatter your confidence despite your shyness occurring around him. “Come here, honey.”
As soon as Jay embraces you in his arms, you allow yourself to crumble as rivulets of tears descend on you, your arms latching around his torso as you eventually fall weak against him. You hold onto him like he’s your lifeline, fearing that he too would abandon you like your biological parents did.
Little do you know that his heart only seems to break over and over at the sounds of your heartbreaking cries, as though you had been harbouring this for years, prompting him to tighten his arms around your trembling body in an attempt to ground you to the moment, and that he’s here — he’ll always be here when you’re at your weakest point.
Nothing coherent is on your mind, only a torrential need to let out the tears you have been holding back for so long, your body racking with the onslaught of devastation. You can’t even remember when was the last time you ever cried, as you have only ever depended on the numbness that overwhelmed your senses to get you through the difficult periods in your life, because you knew that crying wouldn’t change a single thing.
“My efforts will never be enough for her! No matter what I do, it will never be enough!” You sob loudly, years of pain and resentment consuming every inch of you with such intensity that you have never felt before while your heart clenches painfully. You feel the dampness in the material of his top due to your tears, but you can’t seem to pull away from him as you desperately seek his warmth, needing to ground yourself. “I will never be enough for anyone.”
Something snaps inside of him that prompts him to pull you away from his chest, now cradling your beautiful tear-stricken face. “I promise you that you are enough. You are more than enough.” He punctuates each word with fierce conviction that imprints on your mind, the same way he looks at you as though you are worthy in his eyes. “Your worth is not determined by your achievements, your employment status, or anything that is measurable. It’s who you really are on the inside that determines your self-worth.”
“Am I really enough?” You ask shakily, your sobs dwindling while your breath stutters from the exertion, your fingers curl into fists as they rest on his solid chest. Your lips quiver as you muster the courage to speak the words that sit heavily on your tongue. “Am I even enough for you?”
Jay doesn’t lift a smile on his lips, but his features soften differently, particularly his warm brown eyes that are staring at you with a familiar longing. The gesture of his thumb on your tear-stained cheek in affectionate strokes sends a flutter to your wounded heart. “You always have been, honey. I wish you could see how I truly see you.”
With every affectionate stroke on your cheek, it seems to mend on each wound your heart bears for years, albeit you know that it will take an indeterminate period to fully heal your withered soul with fragmented pieces of your morale. Still, you yearn for his touch deeply as you lean your cheek into his palm, feeling a strange sense of security emanating from him and how everything just seems to pale in comparison when you’re with him.
“Tell me that you see me.” and not just as your sugar baby, but the words vehemently refuse to leave your lips.
Jay gazes into your misty eyes deeply before a smile peculiarly knowing graces his lips. “I see you, honey. Always have.” He says sincerely before giving your forehead a kiss. “You are a remarkable woman who I know has ambitions of her own, and I’m a lucky man to have a woman like you in my arms right now.”
Your cheeks flush warmly at how easily he speaks such flattering words so easily that leave a profound impact on you each time. “You know, you can stop acting now.” You mutter, a familiar diffidence cloaking your once-fragile figure. “You don’t have to go so far to—"
Your breath hitches in your throat as he closes the distance between your faces, his eyes darkening with an unveiled want that feels borderline dangerous. “I told you earlier, didn’t I? I was never acting.” His voice drops to an octave that resonates deep in your core, and his eyes flicker down to your slightly parted lips. “And I’m not acting on what I’m about to do next either.”
With that, his lips descend on yours in a delicate kiss that sends sparks through your body, his lips fitting with yours perfectly while his hands that once were cupping your cheeks descend to your waistline, a gentle exploration that flutters your heart. He kisses you like how you imagined your first kiss with him to be — tender with a hint of firm urgency as though he’s been yearning for your lips.
The texture of your lips feels addictingly soft and tastes like cherry, a flavour that has become his favourite. He pours in every emotion he has been harbouring for weeks into the kiss, bordering on such desperation. You drape your arms around his neck as you kiss him back with equal fervour that propels him to deepen the kiss, lips occasionally parted as though you need air, but you need him more than ever; desperation is evident in each caress of your lips on his.
His tongue drags across the seam of your lower lip, compelling you to part your lips open for him to claim every inch of you, but when your tongue tenderly meets his, his head goes into a frenzy at the wet sensation, but he doesn’t want to go far, and so he slowly retracts his tongue before kissing you instead with an intense passion of yearning, hoping that you can feel every ounce of it.
You can feel your lungs burning from the fervent exchange of kisses before forcing yourself to pull away from the passionate lip lock. “Jay.” You utter his name breathlessly as you look at him with hooded eyelids, but the desire in your eyes is a reflection of his, and yet neither of you dares to breach that unspoken boundary.
“I was right.” His husky chuckles send butterflies to your tummy. He leans his forehead against yours, lips widening into a smile that showcases his dimples that you love while his grip on your waist feels like he has no intention to let you go. “Your lips are soft.”
Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his jawline that feels just as strong as he is. “You thought of my lips?” You ask softly, finding yourself lifting a shy smile that he’s head over heels for since day one.
Jay pulls you closer until your body is pressed into his. “All the damn time, honey, you have no idea.” He whispers before closing the distance between your lips once more, sealing you into a kiss that confirms these complicated emotions swirling within you.
Your lips still tingle from the dreamy sensation of his lips while your mind is often a constant playback of the passionate exchange of kisses that happened last week, but you want more; you need more. You simply can’t get enough of his kisses, of him, and above all, you want him so bad that it hurts.
Even just the thought of him is enough to awaken the butterflies in your tummy, a newfound sensation ever since the clarity dawned on you.
“I think I’ve caught feelings for Jay.” You finally speak up, shattering the rare calming quietude in the living room as you are sprawled across the fluffy rug, staring into the white-painted ceiling.
Sabrina, who has been lounging on the couch right next to you, leans her body forward to peer down at you, her face contorting into a confusion despite her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Who?”
Classic Sabrina. Of course, she had forgotten who Jay was even after she was responsible for accepting his request. “My sugar daddy.” You tell her in an obvious deadpan, and recognition instantly glimmers in her blue eyes.
Sabrina heaves a sigh and places her phone down before adjusting to a more comfortable position to look at you better. “Girl, most sugar babies would usually catch feelings for their sugar daddies after the first few meetings.” She says matter-of-factly. “Some even go straight down to business in the bedroom with their sugar daddies on their first day, so it’s quite surprising that you haven’t pounced on yours yet.”
“Sab! Be serious! This is a very big deal for me!” You exclaim emphatically as you change into a sitting position to face her entirely. “I like him— no wait, I really, really like him.” There is no way that you love him, but you know for sure that your feelings towards him are anything but platonic.
Sabrina studies you carefully, noticing the way your eyes gleam with an emotion so unfamiliar, especially after knowing you for years. “Can’t blame you. He’s super hot.”
You roll your eyes at her ever-unserious remark before sighing in exasperation. “It’s not just because he’s hot and attractive. He gets me, like really gets me, and I get him too.” As you divulge to your best friend, you find yourself smiling at the memories of him, recalling. “He always seems to know what to say and what I want to hear. He understands me better than anyone else, no offence.”
You worry that you might offend your best friend, but she erupts into chuckles, her face devoid of any unpleasantness. “Girl, please. You know that it would take a lot more than that to hurt my feelings.” She rolls her eyes playfully before looking at you with keen interest. “So tell me more about the man who has finally caught my girl’s heart.”
You beam at her, feeling much appreciation that she is willing to listen to you. “People often mistake him as someone who is arrogant and mean. Probably because they view him as the cold, stereotypical CEO, and his features are sharp and defined enough to intimidate them, but he is not any of those. In fact, he’s soft-spoken and a true gentleman at heart.” You list down the qualities and traits about him that you have grown to love, enthusiastically. “He’s incredibly thoughtful and kind too. I love how he always sees the beauty in everything despite their flaws, how he always seems to know what I want to hear even though I don’t tell him. He just...he just gets me!”
You sigh dreamily with your lips curled upwards. “I’ve never met a man so perfect, so dreamy, like him before.” As soon as you finish, you finally notice how unusually quiet your best friend has gone, prompting you to focus on her, who is staring at you like you’re an alien. A frown touches your lips. “What?”
“Oh, girl…You’re down bad, and I mean like really down bad for him.” She remarks, enunciating each word with strong emphasis while amusement dances in her eye. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you compliment a guy in detail, because you’d usually say shit about men in general.”
Sabrina has a point, as those experiences you had with men in the past were generally unpleasant. “He’s so different from the men I’ve come across.” You say truthfully, smiling again at the thought of him, but then comes the realisation of your next move. “So what do I do now?”
Sabrina gives you an obvious expectant look. “Just tell him that you like him.”
You huff lightly. “I know that, but like, I’ve been—” You pause, biting down your lower lip in embarrassment as you look down at your hands. “I’ve been having thoughts about him lately.”
Sabrina narrows her eyes at you in suspicion, and considering she's been your best friend for years, it doesn’t take too long for her to put the pieces together, gasping dramatically. “You nasty slut! Was that why you wanted to borrow my vibrator?!” She exclaims with a gleeful smile. “You’ve been fantasising about the man of your dreams!”
You groan loudly and bury your face in your palms. “Gosh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter dryly, but she isn’t wrong. You have been fantasising about Jay hard, and you don’t think that you have ever fantasised about anyone like that, and that itself terrifies you because of how much of an impact he has made ever since he entered your life.
“So when will you get dicked down by your sugar daddy?” Sabrina asks casually right after she has calmed down from the weird excitement about the embarrassing discovery of you.
The reality hits you, and there go the thoughts that dim the hope in you. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he would want that. What if he doesn’t want me like that?” You ramble dejectedly, your eyebrows knitting together worriedly. “I mean, to be fair, we did kiss—“
“You did?! And I wasn’t informed?!” She interrupts with a disbelieving gasp, and before you can retort, she throws a pillow at you, which you catch swiftly, before she goes moaning, “Bitch, you know I love juicy details!”
“It wasn’t a big deal. It happened in a spur of a moment, I guess.” You state unsurely as the memory plays on your mind. You sigh annoyedly, hating how your emotions are going familiarly haywire again. “The point is, I want him so bad, but I can’t just tell him straight in the face that I want him to fuck me.”
Oh, you really do, particularly his cock that you have been craving for, and you have no doubt that he would stuff you full as you had noticed the size of his bulge that pressed against his pants. It’s not only pure fucking that you crave — his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones as you moan pleasurably at his sheer girth, his strong, sweaty body pressing into yours as he whispers sweet yet filthy things into your ears, his lips claiming yours, his fingers interlacing with yours while he delivers slow yet shallow thrusts into your needy cunt.
You have a strong inkling that when he fucks, he does not only fuck, but every movement, every thrust, every kiss, and everything he does will be imprinted on your mind. Just the thought of it has your cunt clenching physically and your clit throbbing again.
“I have an idea.” Sabrina thankfully manages to distract you before you can spiral into your salacious fantasies again.
You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at her, feeling intrigued despite the mischief curling on her pink lips. “I’m listening.”
“What if you make him jealous?” She suggests, earning a confused stare from you. She huffs impatiently. “You know, flirting with other guys in his presence or just doing something in front of him that might trigger his jealousy.”
“How does making him jealous have any correlation to him wanting to have sex with me?” You ask her incredulously. “If anything, him seeing me flirt with other guys would definitely turn him off.” The last thing you need is to do something that turns him off.
“Isn’t it obvious? Jealousy always leads to sex; it happens. Well, at least to me.” She shrugs her shoulders, eliciting a sigh from you at her predictable confession. She startles you when she moves off the couch to sit in front of you, grabbing your hands keenly. “Girl, trust me, it’ll work! Especially since yours just so happens to be a sugar daddy, and they tend to be possessive over their sugar babies.”
Okay, that marginally entices you. You look at her in the eyes, the determination in them giving you a sense of confidence. “Fine. Maybe I’ll do it on this business event that Jay invited me to be his plus one.” You concede with a soft sigh.
Apparently, Jay informed you about a gala he was required to attend during last night’s video call — he prefers video calls instead of normal phone calls most of the time since he gets to see your face — and he invited you to go with him since he needed a plus one. Initially, you hesitated since you would be in the presence of highly sophisticated businessmen and businesswomen, people of class, but the look in Jay’s eyes easily won you over.
A frown touches your lips. “But I have no idea how to make him jealous when the gala will be filled with businessmen, and there is no way I could ever dare to go up to one of them and flirt, especially since I’m obviously not in their league.” You point out the realistic part of this ridiculous plan.
Sabrina gives you a deadpan look, as though you had said something that’s offensive. “I don’t know if you realise this yet, but you’re actually a hot babe. With that face and body of yours, you can easily pass off as one of those elite ladies. I’m not even lying!” Her tone is a rare sincerity that you surprisingly believe in, but still, you’d probably be dull compared to the refined ladies of class.
“Well, let’s hope jealousy will work.” You sure hope it does because Jay is a highly secure man, so it would be unlikely to evoke any jealous within him.
When the gala has finally beckoned, you find yourself having qualms about delving into an unacquainted sphere that is laden with pursuits of the high society and definitely not the type of crowd you prefer to be in, as you know that there will be those supercilious individuals similar to your mother.
Your four-inch stiletto heels make a rhythmic yet expensive click, which echoes through the palatial hallway as you saunter across the marble floor to get to the dreadful destination just ahead of you, where the harmony of soft jazz and cadence of entertainment is a soft resonance that emits from behind the doors of the grand ballroom.
Your arm is looped around his sturdy bicep that feels comfortingly dependable, comparable to a safe haven, and so you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of your erratic nerves, allowing your composure to lose its tenacity and prompting him to ease his pace as he feels every tension emanating from you.
A frown touches his lips as he observes your faintly distressed countenance, ambivalence swirling in your beautiful irises. “You okay?” He asks softly, drawing your attention to his warm brown eyes that showcase his concern. “I can feel you trembling, honey.”
You didn’t even realise that your arm around him had been trembling until he pointed it out. “Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, releasing a shaky breath as your shoulders go limp in dejection. “I just know that I’ll feel so out of place.”
For the first time ever since he met you, Jay feels like an inconsiderate fool for neglecting your comfort, and it is understandable why you feel that way. The thought of finally going to the customary gala with someone whose company he genuinely enjoys, aka you, overlooked the fact that you might feel uncomfortable being in the presence of imposing, pompous elites he knows all too well.
His eyes roam around your beautiful face a little longer, whereas you avoid meeting his gaze, feeling unsettled as you are evidently brittle by the inevitable. He is tempted to bring you out to an extravagant date that you deserve instead, but he can’t ditch the gala that is hosted by one of his trustworthy allies.
“If anyone comes up to you and asks you who you are, just tell them that you’re my fiancée.” Jay says firmly, his tone marked with a finality that evokes conflicting emotions within you, one of which involves butterflies incessantly fluttering in your already-churning stomach.
Ah, so it’s no wonder why he gave you a gorgeous platinum Tiffany & Co. ring that has been sitting perfectly on your ring finger, matching with his, earlier when he fetched you at the apartment. You were genuinely surprised when he told you that the rings were brand new.
“But isn’t that kind of risky?” You ask with a frown, your words treading on reservation as rationality outweighs the delightful idea of being known as his fiancée. “Based on my research, your popularity in the business industry is equivalent to Beyoncé's. So to know about your sudden engagement would shock people. What if they start to speculate things about us? Your reputation would be tainted as a result.”
Jay knows that he’s supposed to be a little less worried about the possibility of you getting hurt because of his impulsive decision, but he continues to stare at you with a glinting fascination. “You did research about me?” He asks teasingly with an irresistible smirk on his lips.
Truth be told, it was a last-minute homework assignment that you decided to do last night since you couldn’t fall asleep, but it was thorough research that honestly helped you a lot in gaining some knowledge about the businessman whom you’re having strong feelings for, and to say the least, you were both impressed and daunted upon your discovery.
You look at him, feeling a sense of intimidation and a dangerous heat that teasingly unfurls in your core despite the familiar warmth in the depth of his eyes and his softened countenance. It baffles yet awes you that this is the same man who has had a hand in rightfully destroying the empire of his nemeses and at the same time amassing substantial achievements. He’s also renowned to be the most ruthless in the world full of business tycoons. But right now, he looks nowhere near capable of causing harm with how mellowed his features are as he gazes at you.
“Of course, I had to. You’re like a really big deal in the business industry.” You defend yourself, your cheeks flushing warmly at his avid attention as though you are something worthy. “Plus, I didn’t want to embarrass you in any way.”
The familiar shyness in your countenance strongly tempts him to kiss you, his lips tingling at the memory of your lips that happened last week. “Consider me flattered, doll. But you could never embarrass me.” He says sincerely, his once-softened eyes now hardening with resolution. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stick to being my fiancée.”
“If you say so.” You mumble, and with a few steps forward, the hotel staff greets you before opening the door to smooth your way in. Once you enter, you are greeted by the resplendent lights illuminating the grand ballroom, but there is barely enough time for you to scan your surroundings when eyes are immediately on the two of you the moment you enter.
You lower your gaze. You can already hear the whispers and feel the judgement in their eyes that make your skin crawl with dread. Have they finally found out that you’re not one of their people?
“They’re looking at us.” You mutter to him, your arm tensing around his arm as you move closer to him for security.
“Can’t really blame them. Have you seen yourself?” His voice is low, but enough for you to catch onto every word. When you meet his eyes, they are roaming every inch of you with appreciation, but his low voice has a familiar husk of desire as he speaks, “You look truly exquisite, doll.”
Jay feels a sense of pride as you are adorned in the dress that he bought for you two days ago. The royal blue is a reflection of elegance and complements the satiny material, essentially enhancing your allure that he has always found irresistible. The dress itself hugs your curves perfectly, and the daring slit reveals the right amount of your gorgeous leg. The volume of makeup accentuates your already-beautiful features immaculately. A familiar heat unfurls within him as his eyes linger on the Van Cleef necklace and earrings he bought for you that are displayed proudly on you.
You look absolutely ethereal, straight out of his fantasy, and it doesn’t help that the feelings he harbours for you intensify when you smile shyly at him, a side of you only he can evoke. “Thank you.” You utter softly, forgetting about the background as you scan every inch of his handsomeness. “You look so handsome.”
Oh, he really does, and it takes every strength in you to refrain from pouncing on him in front of these dignified elites. His tailored black suit fits him impeccably, exuding understated luxury and enhancing his strong allure that brings a wave of intimidation to the other elites while his presence alone is capable of dominating this grand ballroom. His jet-black hair has been styled in a way that reveals a segment of his chiselled forehead, framing his features flawlessly without minimising the commanding presence that exudes from his striking face alone, which is the reason why every pair of eyes can’t help but to gravitate to him.
You notice how professionally guarded his dark eyes look, as though the businessman side of him has surfaced, but there is an unmistakable softness that is reserved for you as long as you are in his line of sight. “Oh? Do I now?” He smirks, his tone teasing as he leans closer to you, his Dior Sauvage infiltrating your senses deliciously.
You hum, refusing to back down despite your stomach being a whole damn zoo as he unrelentingly inches his face closer to yours that you don’t even notice him swiftly wrapping his arms around your waist. “You were always handsome.” You say without missing a beat, even when you’re melting into a puddle from within at the intensity of his handsome gaze.
“Tell me more, doll. I love hearing compliments from you.” He murmurs as he bumps his nose playfully yet affectionately into yours, feeling more eyes on them and hearing some faint gasps at the rare display of affection from him that they have never seen throughout the years he’s been attending such events with his previous chosen plus ones.
Your eyes fall to his lips, and you know that it only takes you just one swift movement to connect your lips with his, but a movement of an unfamiliar figure catches your eye that staves off your temptation. “Unfortunately, you’re about to have a taste of your popularity.” You mutter to him before stifling a laugh at the confusion in his face.
Before Jay can open his mouth, a manly voice eagerly calls for him from behind. “Mr. Park!”
“Fuck.” His voice is an attractive low husk as he curses under his breath, and as you listen closely, you can discern a faint growl of dissatisfaction in his throat that unfurls the heat in your core. Ever since meeting him, you realise that he rarely utters such profanities, but when he does, your core throbs with the incessant heat.
“Don’t curse. It isn’t suitable for a refined man like you.” You admonish him playfully, your lips stretching into a grin as you are very much amused by his reaction.
Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into an attractive smirk again while mischief gleams in his eyes. “Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?”
Your eyes widen at the sensation of his fingers digging into your flesh, hard and quick but enough for you to grasp what just happened, eliciting a gasp from you. “You did not just squeeze my a—“ Before you can finish your sentence, his warmth leaves you as he proceeds to entertain a businessman.
Your cheeks flare at his unexpected action, and you have no idea whether it’s your face or ass cheeks that are flaring, but you know for a fact that you need a drink soon. The great part about being his plus one to this lavish gala is getting free exquisite drinks and food, but you decide to wait for him since you feel awkward going about on your own.
But soon enough, you realise that nothing feels more awkward than standing aside while watching your pretend fiancé getting pulled by socialite after socialite that feels maddeningly perpetual. You can see the efforts of Jay trying to extricate himself from every engagement wane, leaving you no choice but to attend to your rumbling stomach as you head over to the food section.
You know that you are too exasperated to feel self-conscious of the undesirable attention from those in your vicinity. It seems that you have underestimated Jay’s popularity among these socialites despite his daunting reputation.
You would have felt proud of him for all the deserving compliments you heard from those socialites if it weren’t for the fact that some women have taken advantage of their close proximity with him to blatantly touch or even grip his bicep, even after he politely declined them in the most subtle yet annoying way. Is it bad that you need him to straightforwardly tell them off or even shove one of them away from him?
With your fingers wrapped around the stem, you raise the glass to your lips and take more sips of the exquisite champagne that fails to quell your brewing ire, your sharp eyes narrowing at Jay, who is surrounded by more businesswomen, as it seems, and they look to be around his age, but highly sophisticated, as even you can discern their expensive aura from afar. As much as you hate to admit it, each of those women does look compatible with Jay. Plus, they’re far more successful than you.
Still, your ridiculous jealousy nearly goes rampant, overshadowing the insecurity within you, when you observe one of them gripping his bicep oddly comfortably with familiarity. The worst part is he doesn’t seem to be bothered as he continues to converse with an unfamiliar man in a fine tuxedo.
Too absorbed in the tempest of your emotions, you fail to realise the person next to you, who has been observing you with amusement. “I would hate for you to ruin your gorgeous dress, unless you intend to do so by gripping that delicate glass tightly till it breaks?”
His thick yet attractive Australian accent captivates your attention so quickly that you momentarily forget why you’re practically seething. Your eyes lock with the unknown man’s that gleam with recognition and delight, and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable by his abrupt presence, just a tad wary.
“I didn’t realise it.” You utter slowly as you find yourself checking him out without the intention to. You can’t help it, not when his face is an enchantment that evokes both jealousy and admiration within you, because if being both pretty and handsome were a person, it would definitely be him.
His face definitely captivates one’s interest at first glance. His facial features are strongly chiselled, and yet every line and shape is smoothly well-proportioned. He was definitely sculpted by divine hands, because damn, his handsome beauty is something that naturally etches into one’s memory, unforgettable. You also notice how his outfit seems to stand out from the other socialites, a blend of simplicity and subtle elegance.
When your eyes return to his face, he adorns a lopsided grin on his Cupid-bow lips, and it has your head filled with doubts whether or not he is indeed a businessman since he doesn’t seem like one. Honestly, he looks like the type to revel in a lavish lifestyle without worrying about a single thing. “Of course, you didn’t. You were too occupied shooting daggers with your eyes at my best friend.”
You feel a sense of recognition upon his declaration, as Jay had spoken about his mysterious best friend a few times. “Jay’s your best friend?”
The grin on his lips feels so infectious that you fight off the urge to lift a smile of your own. “The only trustworthy best friend, even if he claims me to be a pain in his ass.” He chuckles breathily before proceeding to introduce himself. “I’m Sim Jaeyun, but you can call me Jake.”
This time, you crack a smile. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m—“
“I already know who you are.” His words elicit a genuine look of surprise from you.
“You do?” You ask in disbelief, feeling a little flattered that this fine gentleman recognises you.
Jake nods his head, tucking his hands into the pocket of his Prada jacket. “Sure did. I was the one who convinced him to choose you and that you’re the right one for him.” He divulges so casually, but his tone carries a careful tread as though he doesn’t intend for anyone to catch onto his words. “Not that he needed much convincing because my guy had literal heart eyes when he came across your profile.”
“Oh.” So he knows that you’re his best friend’s sugar baby and not the fiancée, but you have a gut feeling that Jake poses no threat to you.
Jake observes the way you take another glance at his best friend, smirking as he recognises the jealousy flattening the smile on your lips. “I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.” He says in a drawl, drawing your attention back to him. “My best friend is practically head over heels for you.”
You scoff lightly as you place your half-empty glass on the standing table next to you. “I’m not worried. We’re only faking this whole fiancée thing since he insisted. Besides, I’m just his sugar baby. Nothing more.” You retort, and yet your voice holds a bitter edge that you can hear.
Jake makes a disapproving tut that has you narrowing your eyes at. “He’d be sad and disappointed to hear that.”
Your eyebrows furrow, unconvinced by his statement because it doesn’t change the fact that you are Jay’s sugar baby. “Why would he be?” Your genuine question earns him an inquisitive eyebrow raised.
“You have no idea, do you?” He asks in a peculiar whisper, his brown eyes examining the genuine confusion in your countenance with scrutiny. His lips curl into an all-knowing smile that intrigues you annoyingly. “Well, let’s just say that you are more than just a sugar baby to him.”
You swear your heart skips a beat, but then again, Jake might be spewing things since you know damn well that Jay only sees you as his sugar baby. All of his affections, etc., are typically how a sugar daddy treats his sugar baby, based on your presumption. You resort to silence as you decide to finish your champagne, slowly growing more comfortable that a fine man is standing next to you.
Jake takes your silence negatively and mentally berates himself for being unconvincing with his choice of words. He clears his throat to grab your attention. “Do you know that I went to Harvard too?”
Just like that, you and Jake form a friendly connection as you get lost in his storytelling that involves his days with Jay, particularly back in college. You notice the similarity between Jay and Jake, how they seem to talk about each other in playful annoyance, but there is an unmistakable fondness, reminding you of your friendship with Sabrina. You are so immersed in the delightful conversation with Jake that you have totally forgotten about the jealousy that embittered your mood earlier until he decides to bring up a particular memory.
“I mean, really, you should’ve seen how nervous he was! I’ve never seen him being anything like that in all my years knowing him.” Jake chuckles. “He was freaking out on what to do next after you accepted his request. It’s quite pathetic, if you ask me.”
There is no way that you would tell him that you were just the same. “But I don’t get why he was nervous. He’s a CEO, and I’m…me.” You attempt to say it in a light-hearted manner, but the dejection in your strained smile makes his eyes soften.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you — Jay is genuinely head over heels for you, even before your first official meeting. He didn’t even care what status you hold. There was something about you that captivated him.” Jake says with an unwavering resolution, and it rekindles the hope within you. “I can’t really blame him, though. You’re a stunning lady. I wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of getting you to be my sugar baby too.”
You decide to ignore his ever-flattering remark. “Earlier, you mentioned something about me being more than just a sugar baby to him.” You tilt your body to an angle to face him better with your arms folded below your chest, curiosity glinting in your eyes. “What did you mean?”
Jake gives you a rare, soft smile. “I think it’s better that you ask him yourself.”
“Easy for you to say. I can’t do that without shitting in my pants.” You tell him with an eye roll, not fazed by your choice of words to the fine man whom you’ve just met, but he doesn’t particularly seem bothered either.
A sigh leaves his lips. “But then you would never know, and I doubt that he’d tell you first. My guy is ridiculously shy when it comes to you.” He mumbles the last part that you can’t quite catch.
“I’m scared.” You confess truthfully, feeling oddly inclined to confide in Jake, probably because you feel comfortable with him. “I like him, Jake. I really like him, and I see him as more than just someone who provides for me financially. But I’m worried that he might not be into me like that.”
“God, you two are indeed the perfect pair.” Jake mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes. He looks at you sternly dead in the eyes with no traces of mischief or falsehood in his, but his features soften quickly as he sees the sliver of vulnerability in your countenance. “Sweetheart, he talks about you to me all the time, and when he does, he speaks so highly of you. That shows how smitten he is. He truly adores you, and no woman has ever managed to earn his adoration throughout the years I’ve known him, so trust me when I say that he’s really into you like that.”
You open your mouth to speak, but a high-pitched laughter draws your attention back to the familiar crowd, only for the fire of jealousy to go ablaze tenfold within you when a highly sophisticated long brunette is practically feeling Jay up while hugging his arm like a pillow.
“That woman always did want to get into Jay’s pants since forever.” Jake scoffs, his tone holding disdain. He takes a glance at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern at how upset you look. “But he always rejects her, so don’t worry.”
“He doesn’t look like he’s rejecting her now.” You mutter bitterly as you watch him speaking with an older businesswoman while not in the slightest bothered at the woman clinging onto his arm like a desperate lover. You had forgotten that a part of your research involved him being a womaniser back in his late 20s.
“I have to agree with you on that. No idea what he’s thinking right now.” Jake says with a clear disapproval, but the obvious effort of Jay pulling away his arm from her goes unnoticed by the two of you as you look away from them.
Just then, Sabrina’s idea pops into your head. You capture Jake’s attention with an expression that raises his eyebrow. “I want to make him jealous. It’s stupid, I know, but—“
“I think that’s a brilliant idea, gorgeous.” Jake cuts you off gleefully with a grin.
You look over your shoulder, only for your heart to skip a beat when Jay meets your eyes before diverting your attention to Jake and startling him with a hand on his bicep. “Do you mind?” You ask apologetically.
“Certainly not.” Jake seems mischievously delighted, swiftly wrapping one arm around your waist before guiding you to sway to the soft jazz. You watch as his eyes flicker to something, or rather someone, behind you. “He’s coming over, and he looks furious. You know what? Maybe it would be wise for me to release you—”
“Just play along. Pretend to keep talking to me.” You whisper to him, feeling a fiery determination in achieving your goal. Jake casts you a charming smile as he speaks about something in an attempt to make it seem like he’s flirting with you from a certain someone’s point of view.
Just as Jake’s remark elicits a genuine chuckle from you, your breath hitches in your throat at the sensation of a strong arm swiftly replacing Jake’s before you find yourself being pulled until your back hits a solid chest. “Here you are, doll. I see you have already met my best friend.” Jay says tightly, his voice carrying a dangerous tread that has you squirming lightly in his possessive grasp. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”
“Words have been circulating about your engagement to this stunning lady.” Jake says coolly, completely unaffected by Jay’s glaring ire. “Considering that you’ve been enthusiastically socialising, was it your doing?”
“Can’t help it. Gotta warn the men here to steer clear of my fiancée.” Jay tightens his grip around your waist, his tone lacking any amiability or warmth despite Jake being his best friend. “And that includes you.”
Jake gives him a sardonic smile. “Kind of ironic how everyone now knows that you’re engaged, and yet those ladies back there didn’t seem to treat you like you’re an engaged man.”
You hold back a smile and maybe a cheer too, feeling touched that Jake is on your side, but it instantly overshadows the way Jay presses you hard into him that has you feeling a distinct shape of something else. “The same way you’ve been flirting and touching my fiancée.” He snarks.
“Stop it, Jay. You’re being ridiculous.” You say annoyedly before forcing yourself to extricate from his strong grip. You look Jay in the eyes, hiding your surprise behind a glare because right now, he looks nothing like the soft-looking man whom you’ve been spending time with for a month. “Jake is a nice guy and a fine gentleman at that.”
“Yeah, Jay. You heard her.” Jake adds fuel to the fire, earning a withering glare from Jay while he remains grinning. “How could I ever ignore your gorgeous fiancée, whom you left alone to entertain the other snobby socialites? Besides, she gets my humour and laughs at my jokes, unlike you.”
“You’re a full package, Mr. Sim. Charming and funny. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Just like Jake, you continue to provoke Jay, oblivious to the danger you had roused as you grin cheekily at the Australian.
Jake shoots you a flirtatious wink. “You’re a flatterer, Ms. L/N.”
“I hate to cut this short, but it would be generous of you to leave my fiancée now that I’m here to keep her company.” Jay grabs you by the waist and pins you to his side, causing your breath to hitch once more at the bodily contact. “In simple words, fuck off.”
Now you’re starting to get genuinely annoyed at his attitude towards his best friend. You look at him with a glare, ignoring how his sharp eyes actually evoke intimidation within you. “Can you stop being petty and rude? He’s your best friend!”
“Unfortunately, your fiancé’s right, sweetheart. But I did enjoy keeping you company.” Jake draws your attention when he grabs your hand tenderly before giving your knuckle a kiss, a gentlemanly gesture that has Jay fuming, but the Australian provokes him for another time as he casts you a coquettish grin. “You can text me anytime since you have my number now. See you next time, gorgeous.”
With that, Jake walks away leisurely as though he didn’t just aggravate the situation that you brought upon yourself, and it seems like Jay knows about your deliberate plan as his grip on you feels dangerously unyielding while you can feel his eyes penetrate into your side profile.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Jay whispers in your ear with a sensual note, his lips grazing along the shell of your earlobe. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, doll.”
“What are you trying to insinuate?” You ask brusquely, your prior emotions bubbling to the surface as they influence your every action and word. You attempt to wrest yourself from his ironclad grip, but he effortlessly overpowers your strength. “And let go of me. Go back to your group of socialists. You were obviously enjoying their company more than mine.”
Jay recognises the underlying jealousy in your tone, and the glaring anger in your eyes only seems to spur him further, because damn, you look so fucking hot right now. “You’re pissed.” He points out in a subtle awe, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and it seems anything but playful.
“No shit. You let those women touch you and even flirt with you, and you expect me not to lose my cool?” You snap, practically seething, putting more force before finally breaking free from his grip. The glaring anger in your eyes never leaves his dark ones, your lips curling into a sneer. “You’ve messed with the wrong woman, Mr. Park.”
Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on mean, and shit, you find it so hot. “Oh really? How hypocritical of you to tell me that as if you didn’t flirt with my best friend in front of me.” His voice is rough, ladening with something that unfurls the heat in your core dangerously. “Were you trying to make me jealous, doll?”
His eyes darken at the sensual movement of your lip being tucked between your teeth as you look away from him, and just like that, the last thread of restraint easily snaps within him. A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you intend to surrender. “Jay—”
Your word is barely a whisper when he pulls you by the waist while one hand cradles the back of your head, giving you no chance to utter a word as he kisses you squarely on the lips. “Because damn it, it’s working.” He speaks in between the kisses with vehemence, raw desire dripping from his gravelly deep voice, eliciting an involuntary whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.
You are thankful that you have chosen a secluded corner, or you would have drowned from the embarrassment at your brazen display of neediness in public. Before you can eagerly reciprocate the kiss, Jay detaches his lips from your chasing ones, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath heaving from the excruciating constraint of his own desire. “Fuck, I need to get us out of here.” He whispers harshly.
“B-But the gala isn’t over.” Your heart stutters at the way you speak when he pulls you by the wrist, your eyes staring at his broad back while he guides you to the exit, and he even ignores the other socialites that are vying for his attention along the way, as though he only has one mission that renders you both flabbergasted and aroused.
“I don’t give a damn about this worthless gala. We shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” He finally speaks up after the taut silence that followed you from the ballroom all the way to the lobby, but his tone is unrecognisable, rendering you perturbed for a moment.
Yet, despite getting caught in the whirlwind of his emotions, Jay is ever-so perceptive of your instinctive response to his brusque austerity, how peculiarly attuned he is to your emotions. He clenches his jaw in anger because, for a moment, he hates himself for making you feel daunted by him. Without looking at you, he gently pulls you into the elevator as it opens.
You look at him with uncertainty as he presses the button where the basement parking is at. You bite down your bottom lip hard, getting highly flustered by this silence. “Jay—”
Jay takes you by surprise, swiftly pinning you against the wall, but there is an ambience of tenderness emanating from him that has your heart pounding as he leans his forehead against yours, a rare delicacy gleaming in his eye.
“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I shouldn’t have left you all alone. I got too caught up in the propositions and strengthening networks with other entrepreneurs.” He explains hoarsely, one hand holding your waist while the other cradles your face tenderly. “I’m sorry I upset you. I should’ve pushed those women away.”
“Yeah, you should’ve.” You say thickly, your tone holding an edge of desire for the man who is gazing into your eyes with such longing, as though you are the only person that mattered. “You were rude to Jake too.”
“He deserves it because he touched and held my fiancée.” His voice is soft but palpable with a husk of desire that ignites the heat in your core. “If he wasn’t someone important in my life, I would’ve done a lot worse.”
“Fake fiancée.” You correct him, feeling breathless with each passing second while a newfound tension mounts in this enclosed space. You tilt your head to an angle where your lips are dangerously close to his. “I’m not your real lover, Jay, so why did it matter that Jake touched me?”
“It matters because you’re mine. My woman.” He speaks harshly, and yet you don’t feel the slightest hurt, only pure lust intensified by his low, guttural voice and the way his grip tightens on your waist. “He knew that, and yet he still went for you.”
“Bold of you to say that when you had women all over you, so consider us even, then.” You counter weakly, lacking resolve as his possessive proclamation intensifies the relentless heat in your core, and all you need is for him to close the damn distance between your lips.
His eyes darken with an inscrutable emotion amidst the palpable hunger. “Did my apology mean nothing to you?”
“Words mean nothing if you don’t prove it with your actions.” A startled gasp leaves your lips when he presses his very distinct bulge into your body. Holy shit. He’s big.
“Does this prove to you how apologetic I am? How this prove that you’re the only woman capable of turning me on?” He says huskily in your ear, teasingly pressing his borderline painful cock into your tummy again, and he swears he can hear you faintly moan under your breath. “Those women could never make me hard the way you always do.”
“Always?” You mutter breathlessly, daring yourself to tilt your head back as you meet his dark eyes.
“Always. You have no idea how much you drive me fucking insane every damn time.” He confesses, confirming your presumption that he was indeed turned on during those times but mastered the art of self-restraint. “I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer, doll.”
“Then don’t hold back anymore.” You whisper in a sensual lull, feeling the mounted tension threatening to come crashing down on you. “Kiss me like I’m your woman, as you claimed so.”
Your lips are already parted open when his lips descend like a molten desire he repressed for so long. His lips seek yours hungrily, overwhelming your every sense as he kisses you senselessly with his hands roaming around the curvature of your back while you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer even when his body is pressed into you.
The air is charged with something dangerously electrifying, affecting the heat in your core that prompts you to grind into his hardened bulge. As the slit of your dress offers easy access for you, you lift your leg and rub it sensually against his side thigh, only for him to seize your thigh to pin your upraised leg to his hip.
“I got you, doll.” Jay groans huskily against your parted lips that are throbbing from the intensity of his dominant kisses while he grinds his bulge into you, feeling the pleasurable friction as you reciprocate, your clothed clit getting sensitive with each assault from his grinding.
“I need more.” You whine needily in between kisses, feeling your underwear dampen with your arousal. He pulls away from you, only to trail wet kisses down your neck while you submissively arch into his touch. Your soft moans fill the enclosed space as he kisses and bites down on your flushed skin, eventually tainting your once-pristine skin with his mark. You clutch on his strong shoulders, lips quivering with an uncontrollable need. “Jay, please—”
Jay swiftly captures your lips with his, kissing you with an insatiable hunger, pulling you into the depths of his desire. “I’ll give you more later.” He grunts against your lips before thrusting his tongue into your hot cavern, licking every inch and meeting your tongue in a sensual dance while moans emerge from the back of your throat every so often. Your breaths mingling with pleasurable sighs escape your lips in between the messy and desperate kisses.
Just as the two of you get lost in this intoxication of your desires melding into one, the elevator chimes open, prompting you to break the heated yet messy lip-lock, the string of saliva that remains connected on the seams of both of your lips a testament to your co-equal hungers. You look at Jay with hooded eyelids while heavy pants leave your swollen lips.
Jay smirks attractively, his eyes darkening as he scans the pure neediness in your gorgeous countenance. He leans in to kiss you wetly on the lips, causing you to squeeze your thighs together at the unbearable arousal that no doubt soaks your undies completely. How embarrassing it is that you get easily wet just by his kisses.
“Where are we going?” You ask as he proceeds to drag you to his car, anticipation brimming in your veins.
“To my place, and…” He pauses as he retrieves a familiar device in his pocket to unlock his vehicle.
“And?” You probe, watching as he opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman, as he always does.
Your heart nearly lurches in your chest when his dark eyes fixate on you before he leans his face closer to yours, an irresistible smirk etching on his handsome face. “You’re about to find out that I’m not always the gentleman you thought I was, doll.”
After the smouldering tension that accompanied the silent car ride to his place — a luxurious mansion that’s highly worth millions due to how lavishly monumental the structure is — you would have thought that things would escalate to an erotic union you had been aching for, especially after the frenzied make-out session that happened again as soon as he dragged you past the threshold of the mansion.
Wrong. The insatiable man who had practically devoured your lips and left a hickey or two on your neck earlier left you high and dry after the relentless interruption of his ringing phone, and it has been five long minutes since he left you dripping wet from the dry humping while being pinned against his bedroom door.
“I recall you were insistent about me getting married for years, so shouldn’t you be glad that I’m now engaged to my future wife?”
His words are punctuated with austere exasperation that distracts you from examining the decor in his bedroom as you now stare at the man in the vanity mirror, whose collected demeanour seems dour with each passing second as he continues to speak with his mother on the phone.
It genuinely unnerves you how the news of Jay Park’s engagement has reached his own mother in a span of a few hours since the two of you left the gala, and considering his predominant reputation in the industry, no doubt it is currently being disseminated to every media outlet. You just hope that this will do nothing to jeopardise what you have with him, or even your life as an ordinary woman.
“Nothing you said could ever induce me to break my engagement with the love of my life.” He speaks with fierce conviction, rendering you more than flattered by his adamant despite this engagement being simply a pretence. “You know, Mother, all of this fussing and reprimanding is ruining the perfect night for my fiancée and me.”
Your cheeks flush warmly when his eyes briefly meet yours in the mirror. You quickly feign being occupied with unclasping your necklace and your earrings before placing them on the vanity table since they were feeling a tad weighty, for some reason. But your eyes betray you when they gravitate to him again, and this time, his dark eyes are fixated on you with a familiar dark intensity.
“It doesn’t matter what her status and background are. The important thing is that she’s my happiness, not that it mattered to you in the first place.” He continues to speak to his phone without breaking eye contact while advancing towards you from behind, like a stealthy predator preying on its food. “You’re wasting my time when I should have been busy with my exquisite fiancée. Oh, truly, she’s impeccable, perfect for my taste buds.”
Your eyes widen just slightly, appalled at his audacious remark to his own mother, and you swear you can hear her chastising on the line, but Jay is unrelenting as he steps closer and closer until he towers over your figure from behind. Your core throbs in response to his hand feeling up the curvature of your waist.
The smirk on his lips never leaves as he holds your gaze with his dark, sultry eyes, even when he leans down to place a sensual kiss on your exposed shoulder. “Speaking of taste buds, I’m feeling quite famished, so you don’t mind if we cut our conversation short, no?”
You find the underlying mockery in his tone incredibly hot for some reason, or maybe it has to do with your neediness that is dripping again from the way you lean into his irresistible touch, suppressing a whine in your throat as his hand goes cupping your throbbing mound.
“I have to attend to my food. Can’t let your only son die from starvation.” Jay smirks, cruel mockery dripping from his tone while he continues to cup and squeeze your mount, rendering you awfully desperate and needy as you grind your ass cheeks against his hardened bulge.
“Jay—” Your word is barely a whisper when an accidental whimper escapes you instead, earning you a piercing stare from him in the mirror while his large hand cups your mound harder, as though he is displeased by you, but his eyes swirl with dark amusement and palpable hunger.
You clamp your quivering lips shut, suppressing every noise in the back of your throat as you use every strength you can muster to endure his relentless seduction, his eyes never leaving your glossy ones and his hand being attached to your aching core while he steadily grinds his bulge into your ass.
Jay’s a refined menace, you think. It genuinely astounds you how his demeanour remains unyieldingly impassive, betraying none of the tempest within him, but the tone in his voice gets gradually unsparing, which carries an underlying warning, and it does nothing to abate the unbearable heat within you as you find every bit of this hot.
“There will be no further discussion after this call. I’m marrying my fiancée, and that’s final. If you wish to attend our wedding day, it would be wise for you to remain on my good side.” His voice is a low rumble next to your ear, sending you a pleasurable shiver down your spine. “Send my regards to Father.”
As soon as Jay ends the call and places it on the vanity table, a needy whimper leaves your lips, arching into his sinful touch. “M-Marrying your fiancée? What do you mean?” You stutter, your chest heaving up and down with your breathing uneven. “You can’t be serious.”
“What if I say I am?” His voice is a husky whisper, carrying the weight of his hunger. Anticipation thrums in your veins as he proceeds to unzip the back of your dress, his movement deliberate and tantalising. “Will you push me away, doll?”
“But we can’t—” You are rendered speechless when he roughly tugs down your dress as it falls to the floor, exposing half of your nudity in his hungry eyes. You swear you can feel his erection growing when his gaze lingers on your purple lace bra.
“And why can’t we?” The warmth of his palm sends another shiver through your body as he rubs the curvature of your bare ass in a deliberate motion of up-and-down.
You press your palms down on the solid surface in front of you for support, feeling weakened as the desire burning within you is consuming the edges of your sanity, your back arching at the relentless burn of his touch on your body. “B-Because I’m just your sugar baby.” You manage to utter despite getting breathless.
Something inside of him snaps as soon as those words leave your lips, and before you know it, Jay deftly turns you around and lifts you up by the waist while your head spins at the escalation. Your body instantly shivers at the sensation of a cool surface beneath you before finding yourself seated on his vanity table.
His figure remains towering over you, imposing and reeking of sensual dominance that has you preening for submission, but your eyes fall to his lips instead. He slots himself in between your legs before you can close them. You feel the weight of his gaze on your face while you remain meekly avoidant.
Jay grabs you by the chin, his grip firmly assertive as he forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just your sugar daddy.” His voice is nowhere near harsh or rough, but firm enough to mean business, and yet there is an underlying plea. “Tell me, doll.”
Your heart beats in a familiar rhythm on the day when the profound clarity dawned on you at the realisation of your true feelings for your sugar daddy, and yet your tongue sits heavily in your mouth because you know that you don’t deserve to harbour romantic feelings for someone like him, someone so perfect who doesn’t deserve the broken you who carries a lot of emotional baggage since forever.
Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, you take him by surprise, swiftly pulling him by the nape and slamming your lips into his. You shove down the bitter truth of your feelings and allow the pure lust to reign in dominance in the way you kiss him feverishly.
The irresistible allure of your lips compels him to reciprocate with equal eagerness, shivers rippling through him as you begin to get handsy with unbuttoning his blouse that feels as demanding as your kiss. “Doll.” He murmurs against your lips, his hands latching around your wrists to stop you just after you manage to free the last button of his blouse.
“I need you so badly.” You protest with a needy whine, knowing that he still wants to hear you say those words, but you are being driven by your pure need for him to touch where you ache terribly the most.
“But you haven’t told me—“ His words fall short when you grab his hand, making his head spin with dangerous thoughts as he feels the direct warmth of your pussy despite your undies being dampened by your arousal.
“I’m so wet.” You purr, dripping with seduction that is impossible for him to delay his own need in pleasuring you, and it doesn’t help with the way you spread your legs further while guiding his fingers to move in an up-and-down motion on your clothed clit that he can feel distinctly thanks to your wetness. “Need you to touch me here, daddy.”
“Fuck.” He curses harshly under his breath, his cock twitching delightfully at the label that feels illicit, and yet, he keens to hear from your sinful tongue again. “Call me that again.” He demands, allowing you to take control in the way you continue to use his fingers to rub your clothed clit while you rock your hips back and forth.
“Daddy.” You keen in a sensual slur, your sultry gaze never leaving his that seems to darken with something so primal, and yet his fingertips tracing on your skin move with practiced patience before sliding under the material of your undies. You nearly moan out, hips slightly stuttering from the sensitivity when the padding of his fingers makes direct contact with your clit.
Jay stifles a groan, his cock twitching again beneath the slacks at the sensation of your swollen clit, because damn, you’re practically soaked all over. “Even your clit is wet, doll. How needy are you?” Cruel amusement curls on the corner of his lips as he rubs your clit deliberately slow but effective enough to rouse the bundle of aching nerves.
Jay spreads the slick arousal on your clit with his finger, rubbing in a tantalising yet maddening circle, exasperating you. “Don’t tease.” You whine, your pretty eyes gloss with such neediness that send his head into a frenzy.
“I’ll do whatever I want to do to you.” His tone borders on mean, as does his demeanour, with no traces of the usual gentleness, and your eyes prick with tears at the loss of his fingers from your now-throbbing clit.
You open your mouth to speak, but he swiftly captures your lips in a searing kiss, all inhibitions thrown out of the window. Your hands move in urgency as they roam around the plane of his abdominal muscles, sending pleasurable shivers through him. He is completely insatiable, deepening the kiss like he wants to imprint his soul on yours.
Jay pulls you by the hips until your wet core presses into his erection, eliciting a breathy moan from you that he greedily swallows. You obediently part your lips open for his tongue to lick every inch while you slowly gain momentum in grinding your weeping, clothed pussy into his girthy erection; each friction on your clit feels more pleasurable than the previous.
“Jay.” You moan breathily as soon as he pulls away from your lips, only for him to trace an ardent path down to your neck with his lips that amplifies your senses. You arch into his touch that feels possessive; each grip and squeeze on your curves feels like a reminder that you’re his.
“You’re mine, doll.” He rasps against your skin, his low rumble sending vibrations through your neck. He kisses the previous hickey on your neck wetly before hovering his lips over yours and kissing you hard. “Mine to kiss, mine to fuck, and mine to love.” His gravelly timbre shocks you to the core as he growls out in between the kisses.
Without breaking the heated lip-lock, Jay lifts you from the vanity table with ease while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you over to his king-sized bed, his fingers squeezing your plump ass intermittently. He groans lowly into your mouth at the pleasurable sensation of your fingers tugging his now-dishevelled hair.
“Fuck me.” Your demand sounds like a pathetic plea that brings a smirk to his lips before he bites down on the plush of your lower lip, eliciting a soft whimper from you.
“Where are your manners, doll?” He grunts against your lips, taking you by surprise next with a harsh smack in the ass, causing your body to jolt in his hold.
“Please fuck me, daddy.” You plead softly, feeling both intimidated and highly aroused by the intoxicating dominance he exudes.
In the haze of your lust for him, you can barely register the impact of being thrown on his bed before recovering as you turn around, only for your pussy to throb at the sight of him towering over you by the bed as he lazily peels off his blouse with his dark eyes penetrating into yours before you feel a magnetic sensation pulling your gaze down.
The desire in your eyes is palpable as you feast on his fine glory in keen appreciation. You already know that underneath every one of his luxurious apparel conceals his broad physique, but as he presents half of his nudity to you now, you conclude that he must have hit the gym often in his spare time despite being a busy businessman. His defined muscles are a testament to his diligent work at the gym, and you desire to feel them under your touch again.
“My eyes are up here, doll.” Amusement laces his authoritative tone, and yet he receives no response from you, your hungry eyes roaming on his glory elevates his pride as his hard work at the gym has evidently paid off.
You bite down your lower lip, your eyes lingering on the delicious sight of his V-line dipping behind the slacks. You want, no wait, you need to feel every inch of him. But before you can make a move, Jay pulls you closer to him by the legs as his stature gradually lowers, making your breath hitch in anticipation.
“Jay!” Your shocked exclamation comes immediately as soon as he tears the fabric of your undies roughly, his unrivalled strength rendering it flimsy. “That was my favourite!” You complain as you watch him toss aside torn fabric.
“It was getting in the way.” He grumbles in protest as he positions himself at the same eye level as your pussy. “I’ll buy you a few pairs.” He promises, but you are distracted by the bashful wave hitting you as his eyes are fixated on your perfectly waxed mount.
You attempt to close your legs, but he is swift enough to reign control over your flexibility as he spreads your legs apart with his palms firmly pressing into your inner thighs, presenting your bare pussy lewdly in his ravenous eyes.
“Fuck. Your pretty pussy really is soaking wet, doll.” His husky voice holds a palpable hunger, and his eyes are fixated on your pussy as he uses his fingers to spread the lips for a vivid view of your glistening arousal dripping.
“Jay.” You gasp softly at the sensation of his warm lips pressing into your wet clit, hips nearly bucking up to gain some form of friction, but he pulls away. His cock feels borderline painful now, but he desires to prioritise your needs, which is pure torture for someone who hasn’t had pussy for four years.
Your leg twitches slightly from the sensitivity when he presses his thumb into your clit before stroking it lazily in mini circles. “I’ve been dying to get a taste of you.” He confesses, his eyes never leaving your preening pussy while he continues to tease your clit, rousing your bundle of nerves.
“You have?” You utter breathlessly, chest heaving up and down as you feel the room temperature rising from the manifestation of your desires. You fist the bedding when he places another kiss on your clit, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Mmhmm.” He hums while the vibrations send pleasurable shockwaves to your bundle of nerves. “Dreamed of tasting your gorgeous pussy every night.” His confession is accompanied by a hard lick on your clit, eliciting a surprised moan from you.
Jay groans huskily at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, and he knows that one taste is never enough. Without wasting a second, his tongue licks a broad stripe along your pussy lips that he journeys upward until your clit and gives it an obnoxious lick before repeating the actions, eventually sending your head in an intoxicating frenzy.
You quiver underneath his relentless tongue as he continues to stimulate your clit and his saliva that lathers your pussy lips while the sound of your pretty moans spurs him further. He sucks your clit with doubling efforts, tearing a moan from your lips before he dives into your cunt, his tongue now exploring your weeping hole. You roll your eyes from the pleasure, feeling his warm tongue so distinctly along the walls that it sends your head delirious.
“Pussy tastes so fucking good. I’m never letting go of you after this.” He growls into your cunt, adding more pleasure to the shockwaves rolling through your body. He rears back, eliciting a needy whimper from you as he leers at your pussy. “Can’t believe how drenched she already is even before cumming. So fucking needy for me.”
Jay delves into your cunt once more, but with stringent purpose while the chiselled bridge of his nose bumps your clit with the way he bops his head. You arch your back as you roll your hips into his skilled tongue, moans spilling from your lips as he continues to devour you with an insatiable hunger. You swear you can hear him moaning amidst the obscene sound of your sopping cunt and your moans filling his spacious bedroom.
Without letting up, Jay rubs your neglected yet swollen clit, amplifying your pleasure at the dual sensation of his tongue and his thumb while your moans pitch higher as you spread your legs even further with your arched back deepening, displaying such wanton neediness that goes straight to his cock. He swears he can come undone just by eating your pussy alone.
“I’m close!” You announce in a high-pitched whine, hips stuttering against his relentless thumb that is rubbing your clit hard with fervour while his tongue continues to fuck your hole. Before you know it, your orgasm comes in uncontrollable waves as you come undone violently on his tongue.
Instead of pulling away, Jay remains attached to your cunt, his tongue lapping up your slick release avidly while you marvel at the sight of your sugar daddy. You have been eaten out before, only because you requested it, but nothing like this, and you didn’t even have to ask him to do so.
Sensing your gaze on his face, he looks up and meets your eyes as he finally comes to a stop, but not before placing a wet kiss on your clit that throbs faintly in response. “I could eat your pussy for hours, doll.”
“I doubt that.” You mutter, your voice slightly strained as you watch him rise. Your cheeks flush warmly as you notice that his nose, lips, and chin are glistening with your arousal under the dim yet sensual glow across the room.
With the way he runs his fingers through his dishevelled hair and his abdominal muscles present to you, the smirk on his lips and his dark eyes leering down at you, you think you could come undone again by this sight alone, because damn it, your sugar daddy is sinfully attractive. You don’t think you could ever find another man as attractive as him.
“That was a promise, by the way.” He says, lowering himself again, and this time, he slides two fingers into your wet cunt, your slick arousal serving as a lubricant. You gasp, mouth agape and eyes rolling to the back, but it isn’t the stretch of your walls that brings out another high-pitched whine from you; it’s the way his thumb rubs your sensitive clit at a menacing pace.
“No! I’m still sensitive!” You protest weakly, writing underneath him, but the rolling movement of your hips only seems to amplify your sensitivity, involuntarily pressing your clit into his relentless thumb and allowing his fingers to delve deeper with each roll of your hips.
“No? Then why is she crying for my fingers?” He chuckles darkly, his demeanour absent of the usual gentleness or kindness. Having enough of you trying to escape, he deftly grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, his strength unrivalled. “Don’t be ungrateful, doll. Daddy is only giving your needy pussy what she needs. Look. She’s dripping all over my fingers again.”
You had no idea that Jay being condescending and mean could be so fucking hot when all of your wet fantasies consisted of him being a complete vanilla. Maybe he is, if you go further with him, but right now, the way he’s fucking you with his fingers feels just as unforgiving as his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones.
“I can’t!” You protest again with an unwept sob, attempting to close your legs, but your defiance earns you a stern slap on your pussy that only seems to feel pleasurable while the wet squelch from the impact echoes off the walls. His dark eyes hold a silent command to open your legs, and you do so as you stifle a whimper when he plunges two fingers back into your hole.
“Yeah, you can. How else are you going to take my cock if you’re still so fucking tight?” He hisses under his breath at the resistance in your walls enveloping his fingers, but that doesn’t slow him down from fucking you at a steady pace. “You’ll take what I give you like the good fucking doll you are for daddy.”
Though you remain obstinately tight, Jay knows that you are not a virgin, and the thought of another man's cock in your sweet pussy fuels his jealousy, impelling him to increase momentum that sends your head delirious once more. “Fuck! Jay!” You cry out, eliciting a smirk from him as he revels in the way you are falling apart only from his fingers alone.
“Come on, doll. Don’t disappoint daddy now.” He admonishes softly, his tone an underlying mockery, but you submit keenly to him. He leans down, bumping his nose affectionately against yours, humming. “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”
“I do.” You whimper, your kissable lips jutting into a small pout while your eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “Always want to be daddy’s good girl.” You keen, your voice breathless as each unyielding thrust from his skilled fingers alone knocks the air from you.
Jay places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips, displaying a faux tenderness that has your pussy pulsating around him. “Then give me another one. I know you still have it in you.” He commands sternly.
A series of moans and whines emits from you as you accept this agonising pleasure that renders you keening for more. Your hips move in tandem with his ruthless fingers with your curve in a perfect arch that hypnotises him. With his ruthless fingers working on both your hole and your clit, the knot forming in your tummy threatens to snap anytime. His fingers now curl in you, hitting that delicious spot with precision that triggers something powerful this time.
With the last of your moans echoing off the walls, the knot in your tummy imploded, followed by your release gushing out in clear fluids from your battered cunt, wetting the bedding beneath you, while your lips part open with a silent moan and your hips stuttering.
“Atta doll.” Jay grins, his eyes watching your cunt squirting for a little longer while his fingers never relent from pumping, emitting obscene squelches. Seeing as your legs quiver from the aftermath, he withdraws his fingers from you and rubs the outer side of your leg soothingly. “Did so good for me.”
Your heart flutters at his words, but you feel completely breathless, your chest heaving up and down as you slowly recover from the intensity of your orgasm. Holy shit. You have never squirted before throughout your past experiences.
Jay releases your wrists as he leans down to give a kiss below your belly button. You watch him silently as he continues with his kisses along your body, your heart fluttering again at how every kiss feels reverent, until you decide to earn his attention with a tug on the wrist.
“Kiss.” You plead softly as you latch your hands on his neck to pull him to your face. Maybe it’s the way he kisses, or the texture of his lips, but you have grown so addicted to his kisses that you fantasise of kissing him every day.
“So needy for my kisses too.” He chuckles lightly with a reserved adoration for you before he dips his head down and kisses you deeply on the lips. He lets you take control over the kiss, smirking at the obvious hunger with the way your lips move against his and your fingers haphazardly running through his hair.
You break the lip-lock first, intending to return the pleasure as you work on his pants with your hands, but he stops you with a gentle grab on the wrist. “What about you?” You ask with genuine confusion as you sit up because guys would usually want the favour back.
Jay shakes his head. “It’s alright, doll. Some other time instead.” He says softly despite his tone being definitively firm. As much as he would love to feel your mouth taking his cock, he can’t waste any second as he desires to be buried in your cunt.
“But—” You are silenced by his lips as he kisses you hard while his hands work on peeling the last of his garments.
“Shh.” He shushes you when you part open your lips into the kiss. He pulls away, his once-softened eyes now darkening with a familiar hunger that rouses excitement within you. “Get on all fours for me now.”
You obey his command, turning around with your hands and knees pressing into the bedding as you wait for him with nervous anticipation, because from the look of his erection beneath the slacks alone earlier, you are certain that he may be bigger than your last fling.
You feel him tapping your hip, a signal for you to crawl forward as you feel the bedding dip from behind you. You decide to get comfortable as you lower your upper body, which causes your back to arch sensually while you spread your legs a little further until he has the erotic view of your holes, his eyes darkening with appreciation.
Now bare of any garment, Jay grabs the base of his cock and brings it closer to your pussy, but instead of going straight for your hole, he teases you with repeated taps of the bulbous head on the wet folds, eliciting whines from you while sparks of sensitivity shoot through him from the mere contact of his slit with your pussy lips.
“I know, I know. Needy for daddy’s cock, aren’t ya?” He coos, familiar mockery lacing his tone that borders on cruel. He aims the tip at your slightly gaping hole and inserts it agonisingly slowly, but he doesn’t go all the way. Instead, he thrusts only the bulbous head into your stretched hole experimentally. “But are you sure you can handle it?”
Your whines are full of impatience and frustration as he prolongs his teasing. “I can—“
The air is knocked out of your lungs with one swift shove of his cock into you without warning, your lips agape while your eyes prick with tears at the painful stretch of your walls trying to accommodate to his sheer girth. You have underestimated his size, because damn, he is massive to the point where you feel instantly full, and raw.
“Damn, baby. You're still so tight. Did I not prep you enough?” He groans huskily, his hand seeking your waist for leverage. He does an experimental thrust before he stills his hips and allows you to adjust. He drags his finger along the perfect arch of your back, sending shivers through your spine. “But my doll can take my cock, yeah?”
A moan leaves your lips as soon as he delivers a single thrust, his movement measured and controlled, as though he is mastering self-restraint for your sake as you still struggle to adjust, but devoid of prior pain, only a tad uncomfortable.
“You’re so big.” You breathe out, moaning softly at the delicious sensation of his girth dragging along your walls slowly as he does a pull-and-push motion repeatedly, allowing you to feel the ridges and veins protruding from his cock.
Jay smirks at your remark, feeling a sense of pride. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll make sure to train your pussy to take my cock with ease, but for now,” He grunts as he delivers hard thrusts that have your body shaking from the impact, his balls hitting your ass in the process. “Let daddy use your pussy however he wants.”
You become pliant immediately, falling dumb the instant he proceeds to fuck you with wild abandon, each thrust unforgiving and each stroke hitting deeper than the previous while more moans spill from your lips. The pain is replaced by pleasure as his cock stretches your walls deliciously, and you swear you can feel your lower abdomen bulging with each thrust.
His hands are attached to your waist in a way that makes you feel like you’re his fleshlight, and that turns you on even more, prompting you to spread your legs, which makes your ass stick out while he can’t resist smacking the supple of your ass. His breath goes ragged with low moans and grunts occasionally escaping him as he relishes the wonderful sensation of your cunt being battered by his cock.
The way Jay is fucking you feels borderline animalistic in such a short span of time, but something tugs within you, as though it is telling you that this is not just your sugar daddy fucking you simply because he desires you — this is a man who has been deprived of satiating his raw, sexual needs for years.
“Harder, daddy.” You manage to utter a moan quickly, eliciting a scoff from him before you find yourself losing strength to hold your upper body at the forceful impact of his thrusts, your face and chest pressing down into the bedding, but your ass remains sticking high.
“You want it harder? Like this?” He growls under his breath, slamming his hips into yours hard while each thrust of his cock reaches your cervix, rendering you nearly cross-eyed from the overwhelming pleasure. His dark eyes feast on your body, being completely pliant under him, before watching the way his cock, now lathered by your slick arousal, disappears and reappears lewdly from your cunt, the sight so hypnotic that it spurs him further.
Your breath hitches in your throat at the persistent fullness of his girth from the way he delivers shallow thrusts while your body shakes and often lurches forward from the hard impact. “S-Slow down—”
“Take what daddy is giving you like the good slut you are for me.” He cuts you off with another growl, his voice ladening with primal hunger. He groans as soon as your cunt clenches like crazy around him. “Oh? You like being called my slut?”
Your cunt clenches around his cock again, sending his head into a frenzy. “Your cockslut, daddy.” You moan out keenly, loving the idea of your sugar daddy being derogatory to you.
“My cockslut will do anything just to get daddy to fuck her like this, yeah?” He sneers, his hand landing a harsh smack on your ass while you shriek at the impact. His eyes darken as he recalls the repulsive sight of another man’s hands on your delicate skin earlier, fuelling a thundering emotion that goes beyond jealousy. “That’s why you had to piss me off by flirting with my best friend.”
“Nngh! Daddy!” Your fingers desperately seek purchase in front of you, needing to ground yourself from his relentless thrusts as he fucks you with a brutal intensity, eliciting screams and moans that border on sobs, tears escaping your eyes, and yet you love every second of this.
Without letting up his thrusts, Jay leans forward and braces his arms next to your head into a plank-like position, but he is careful enough not to crush you with his weight. “Got me fucking riled up when he held you like you’re his.” He snarls next to your ear, his gravelly timbre ladening with an unmistakable possessiveness that resonates deeply to your core. “You’re fucking mine, doll.”
You moan out in response, unable to formulate your words as his shallow thrusts only seem to deprive you of coherency while the new position allows you to feel his cock deeper than the previous. You can feel his abdominal muscles subtly flexing against your skin as he presses his body into yours. His warmth and natural scent melding with yours create a new wave of intoxication that you desire to bask in.
But Jay isn’t satisfied with your lack of response. His fingers encircle your throat, applying the perfect pressure to your pulse that emphasises his dominance as he earns your attention. “Say it.” He grunts into your ear, his hot yet ragged breath fanning the shell of your earlobe. “Say that you’re mine.”
“Y-Yours!” You manage to utter in between staggering breaths, your cunt clenching around him when he tightens his fingers around your throat, a silent command that you immediately grasp. “I’m always yours, daddy!”
“That’s fucking right.” He bottoms out hard with his body slamming you down, causing your clit to gain friction as it often makes contact with the bedding. He fucks you like he intends to ruin you. “All mine. Never forget that.”
His fingers now loosen but remain attached around your neck, allowing you to turn sideways to meet his eyes. “Jay.” You moan softly with half-lidded eyes as you look at his parted lips. “Kiss me, please.”
Jay silently complies, angling his head for his lips to meet yours in a perfect fit with his hand cupping your jaw while your hand seeks to grab his dishevelled hair loosely. You moan into the kiss when his tip hits the spot while he forces his tongue into your panting mouth, exchanging lewd yet lazy kisses with tongues dancing in a twisted tango.
Even when your lungs burn, you refuse to detach yourself from his lips, and so you continue to kiss him while he every so often devours every inch of your hot cavern, sucking and biting your plump lips that become swollen. Each time he deepens the kiss, it feels as though the connection you have with him deepens too, the same way his cock lodges deeper into your cunt.
“Can feel you clenching around my cock, doll.” He rasps against your wet, swollen lips before slowly pulling away as he feels your cunt clenching rapidly, a telltale sign of your imminent release. He decides to amplify your pleasure as he sneaks his hand underneath your body to find your clit before rubbing it hard. “You’re close, yeah?”
You are teetering on the precipice, knowing that it is only a matter of time as his cock relentlessly bullies your battered insides while his thumb on your clit ignites an overwhelming sensitivity. “Oh my god!” You sob out, your body writhing and convulsing under him as the band in your tummy threatens to snap.
“Come for me, my slutty doll.” He lets out a guttural growl, and on his command, you tumble over the edge of ecstasy with your eyes rolling to the back while a broken moan leaves you. But he doesn’t stop, even when your essence is bathing his cock.
You hear his breathing frenziedly ragged while his thrusts begin to fall in an inconsistent momentum, alerting you of his incoming arrival. “I-In me—“ You utter weakly, your hand latching on his muscular bicep. “Come in me, please.”
“Are you sure?” He asks in a strained grunt, unable to prolong his orgasm that teeters on the same precipice as yours.
You hum needily. “Want daddy’s cum to fill my pussy so bad.” You whine, receiving a chaste kiss from him on the cheek.
“I’ll give you my cum, alright. Daddy will fill you with his cum all night, till your sweet pussy can’t take it.” His promise has your cunt squeezing him keenly, eliciting another cuss from him before he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. With one last earth-shattering thrust, he matches the crescendo of your release, his hips smacking into you and going completely still as he fills you to the brim.
As the last of ecstasy in the air wanes, Jay releases your shoulder that now bears his teeth mark before giving it a kiss. Though your walls remain clinging around him, he unsheathes his cock from you, drawing whines from you as his girth drags along your battered walls tantalisingly slowly until you feel nothing except the union of your fluids.
Jay stifles a lustful groan, his cock twitching in demand for another round at the hypnotic visual of your hole instinctively pushing out white fluids, but he needs to see your face while he holds you. “Come here, doll.”
Despite your aching limbs, you force yourself to turn around just in time to see him hovering over you before he seals you in a breathtaking kiss that has you moaning softly into his mouth, his tongue tenderly caressing yours. With your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he carries you effortlessly and settles himself with you seated on his lap while he leans against the headboard with his legs sprawled out.
Sensing you need air, Jay breaks the lip-lock, his eyes shifting to your gorgeous chest, darkening with appreciation. “I knew this purple lace bra would look gorgeous on you.” He says, leaning down to map his kisses across your chest while you feel his fingers caressing your back. “But your tits look better without them.”
Jay takes you by surprise when he expertly unclips your bra with one hand. “You’re skilled.” You compliment him as you rest your hands on his shoulders, but your tone holds a bitterness of something that has him smirking while he helps you in removing your bra. “Had experiences?” Your question is laced with sarcasm.
Jay rears his head back to get a better look at your pouty countenance that you try hard to conceal with impassivity, but he can see through you. “Is that jealousy I sense?” His question is absent of genuine curiosity, more of a taunt.
You muster the sweetest smile you can, albeit it feels tight on your face muscles. “Hardly. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of flings.” You confess nonchalantly, smirking lightly as you see his eyes darkening familiarly.
But your confidence falters when he squeezes your ass tight while the other goes cupping your tit. “Your tight pussy could’ve fooled me.” He says calmly, using his thumb to rub your nipple that slowly hardens.
You stifle a moan as you feel sensitivity shooting through your body with each nipple rub. “You’re not jealous?” You ask breathlessly, your back arching into his touch as he cups both tits with his palms.
A smirk touches his lips, his eyes glinting darkly with confidence. “Hardly. Besides, my cock will be the last ever to be buried in your sweet pussy.”
You chuckle breathily while you have him briefly mesmerised by the irresistible smile on your lips. “Confident now, are we?”
“It’s not confident, doll.” He retorts in an attractive drawl, and his smirk widens as he manages to draw out a soft moan from you with the way his fingers manipulate your tits. “Because I know that your pussy will only be satisfied with my cock alone after tonight. You’ll be begging for more.”
“Don’t get too cocky now.” You mutter as you roll your hips into him, his cock gaining its vitality with each contact of your tummy. You can’t resist grabbing the base of his cock, earning a lustful groan from him as he tilts his head back. “Who knows I may change my mind?”
“And yet, you’re desperate for my cock again.” He takes you by surprise when his mouth quickly connects to your nipple, sucking and licking it deliberately slowly despite his hunger roaring at him to devour your tits that had been in his wet dreams.
“S-Shut up.” You stutter just as the way your hips do, your pelvis pressing into his while you silently marvel at how fast his cock has gone rock solid. You take another glance at his cock that has your pussy preening, and he is the biggest you have ever taken.
Jay releases your nipple with a wet ‘pop’ before making a disapproving tut under his breath. “Where did your manners go?” He says roughly at the same time he slaps your tit, causing you to jolt from the impact.
The flare of defiance in your eye dwindles as he slaps your tits again. “I’m sorry.” You whimper, and yet you push your tits out keenly for him to abuse your tits as they jiggle with each slap, enjoying the pain that comes with pleasure.
“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Ride me.” He commands sternly as he gives your ass a hard squeeze. “Show me how desperate you are for my cock.”
You do so without delay, wanting to please your sugar daddy. You lift yourself up, one hand on his shoulder while the other grabs the base of his cock as you attempt to align it to your excited cunt. With a shaky breath, you slowly sink on him but with obvious difficulty as your walls struggle to accommodate his sheer girth.
“Is my cock too big for you? Look how you’re struggling to take me again.” He smiles smugly as he watches you evidently struggling, taking your time while you grit your teeth in annoyance at his mockery. “Need some help, doll?”
“I can do it. I just need—“ Your breath hitches as soon as the entirety of his girth manages to snuggle in your cunt while the intrusion causes the union of your cum with his trickling down profusely, smearing his thighs, but he doesn’t seem bothered.
“Damn. I’m never going to get tired of your sweet pussy.” His husky voice is raw with lust. He squeezes your tits for good measure before leaning against the headboard leisurely. “Now ride me.”
With a whimper, you do as he tells you, rocking your hips back and forth despite your walls stretching painfully from his girth. Your hands seek for purchase on his shoulders, stabilising yourself as your head spins at the sheer fullness that has you clenching around him, and yet he seems composed, watching you intently with dark amusement.
The pain eventually subsides, leaving only pleasure that slowly builds up within you with the help of your clit grazing against his abs, creating a delicious friction while he occasionally kneads your tits before alternating between sucking and licking your nipples, but it isn’t enough for you to attain the heights of pleasure you desperately seek. You huff and puff, to which he finds quite adorable despite the sensual movement of your irresistible body, as you find yourself riding him harder and faster deliberately, hoping that he would get the damn hint.
But nothing changes except the eventual exertion seeping into your muscles from your relentless effort alone, prompting you to falter in your momentum. Seeing the tears gathering in your lash line, he smirks cruelly, knowing exactly what. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m tired, and you’re making me do all the work!” You complain, your kissable lips quivering and jutting into a pout that has him caving into your need.
“It’s what you deserved after flirting with my best friend.” He reminds you sternly, his hands finding placement on your waist as he helps you to rock back and forth on his swelling cock, eventually switching to a different rhythm that has you bouncing on his cock instead.
“You’re still mad about it?” You moan out as you begin to feel the tension coiling in your tummy with each thrust of his cock that buries to the hilt each time he pulls you down with a wet splat mingling with your bated breaths. “I-I thought we were past that.”
“Oh, we were never past that, not until you come to understand that you’re mine.” His rough voice holds a familiar possessiveness as he recalls. His fingers dig into your flesh as he bucks his hips up into you stringently, drawing more moans from you. “And I’m a very jealous man, doll.”
With a harsh slap to your ass, Jay proceeds to fuck the remnants of his pent-up emotions into your battered cunt that produces obscene squelches and splats of your skin meeting due to each relentless thrust as he picks up the speed, rendering you in complete shock at his stamina. He is practically jackhammering his cock into you with an impressive consistency.
His dark eyes never leave your face that contorts beautifully into sheer pleasure with your head tilted back, your mouth agape, your eyes rolling to the back as you lose yourself in the sheer pleasure, sweat trickling down your jaw, your tainted neck with his hickeys a testament to his ownership. He has dreamed of having you like this.
Jay leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your every moan and breath, his head going into a frenzy as your cunt pulsating around him is a familiar telltale sign of your imminent release, highly infectious to his cock that teeters on the verge of the same release.
With another fierce thrust, Jay pulls you down by the hips at the same time he bucks his hips up, burying his cock to the hilt that sends an intense shockwave through your body, essentially triggering your teetering climax as you arch your back sharply with a wanton moan leaving you, your climax hitting you in torrential waves.
But Jay continues to thrust his cock into you, even after your release has coated his cock and is leaking messily from the persistent friction. You paw at his muscular pecs for reprieve. “I know, I know. Just a little more.” He grunts against your parted lips as you whine out your sensitivity.
With one last thrust, Jay lodges his cock to the hilt once more, hips going still as he moans deeply into your mouth, lips grazing against each other but not quite kissing, his orgasm washing over him like a torrent of ecstasy and his load filling your womb to the brim. His cock remains nestled in your cunt, feeling it gradually soften.
Wordlessly, Jay presses another kiss to your lips, one that you weakly reciprocate, before leaning his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling. You shudder lightly as he caresses your back in a soothing motion before falling languid against him. Even the sweat glistening on his skin doesn’t deter you from snuggling into him, your cheek pressing into his shoulder, basking in this temporary blissful afterglow.
“So it worked.” You break the serene silence as you utter quietly, and yet he can discern an underlying sense of amused satisfaction in your tone, earning a brow raised from him.
“What do you mean?” He asks in between the kisses he delivers to your crown and forehead while his arms around you feel like an affectionate embrace between lovers.
With your palms on his muscular pecs, you push yourself away from him to meet his confused eyes directly, mischief playing at the curl of your lips. “It was my intention to make you jealous, but I didn’t expect you to be genuinely jealous like that.”
Jay scoffs at your cheeky confession. “Were you trying to get back at me because of those ladies at the gala?” He probes with a playful accusation, but his eyes are steely with fierce conviction. “They don’t matter to me, not in the slightest. Irrelevant.”
“Partly,” You confess again with a simper smile while your heart flutters keenly at his words. Your fingers absentmindedly trace along the ridges of his abdominal muscles, sending perpetual shivers through him. “But the main reason was to get you to fuck me.”
“By making me jealous?” He gives you an incredulous stare despite the amusement in his tone, but something shifts in his demeanour dangerously, causing your senses to be on high alert. “That was a bad strategy, doll. You should’ve told me that you wanted me to fuck you instead.”
You become hyperaware of his predatory gaze penetrating into you, but you play off your nervousness with a chuckle. “Nah. It’s way more fun to make you jealous instead.” You attempt to push yourself off him, but his arms feel like a cage of lust as you feel a palpable tension brewing from the manifestation of his primal hunger for you.
“Trust me, you do not want to make me jealous, doll.” It all happens spontaneously, because you can barely register the escalation that renders your head dizzy from the way he manoeuvres to a position where he hovers over you, his broad frame preventing you from any form of escape.
“Jay—“ Your breath hitches while your pussy flutters around him as he begins to fuck you again with a renewed vigour, each ferocious thrust stealing your breath away.
“Because this is what happens when you provoke me.” He growls out as he punctuates each word with an unforgiving thrust while his hips snap into yours painfully, and you sure are forming bruises by now, and yet, you desperately meet his every thrust.
His dark eyes glaring into your teary ones, a twisted satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you already falling apart from the instant overstimulation. He rears back to grab your leg and places it over his shoulder, hiding his surprise at your flexibility while the new angle allows him to fuck you deeply.
“No more gentleman Jay you thought I always was, doll.” His gravelly timbre is drowned out by your sweet moans and cries. His fingers go circling around your neck firmly, demanding your attention on him as you force your eyes to lock with his. “I’m going to fuck you till you remember who you belong to.”
And he does, pistoning his cock into your battered cunt relentlessly, but with brutal precision that has you seeing stars, borderline animalistic as though his hunger hasn’t been appeased after fucking you twice before this.
“Right there!” You moan out as soon as his tip hits the spongy spot that has your back arching sharply with each relentless thrust. With your arms wrapped around his broad back, your fingernails rake on his skin haphazardly, sending pleasurable sensations through him.
“I’m going to ruin you, doll.” He says darkly as he squeezes your neck, his tone holding a promise that both excites and unnerves you.
“All yours to ruin, daddy.” You sob out keenly, hiccups leaving your lips intermittently while your every sense is consumed by the overwhelming pleasure from his cock alone.
“My good girl loves to please me, yeah?” He rasps, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the way his cock hammers into your sensitive cunt that feels devastating.
“Wanna please daddy all the time.” You utter brokenly, a single tear rolling down your cheek, to which he abandons your neck to wipe your rolling tears away affectionately.
“You always have, babydoll.” He croons, and you nearly physically purr at his adoring admission. He rears back just slightly and places his palm on your bulging lower abdomen. “Feel me here, doll? Looks like daddy’s cock is made perfectly just for you.” You nod your head mindlessly, unable to formulate coherent sentences.
In the intoxicating haze of lust, you grasp the opportunity to admire his very attractive face — his hair completely dishevelled and damp with sweat that also trickles down his sideburns, pure lust swimming in the depths of his eyes, his angular jawline seeming more defined, and his every feature and muscle taut with tension. A smirk touches his lips briefly as he catches you staring at him before increasing the intensity of his ruthless momentum.
“I can’t! It’s too much!” You sob out, your cunt clenching hard around him, and yet he manages to pound his cock into you with ease before driving you to the edge of sanity when his thumb rubs your clit with an unsparing vehemence, intensifying the band of your climax within you.
“Nothing is too much for this slutty pussy.” He growls, never faltering as each thrust is unyielding bringing him to greater heights of ecstasy while relishing the wet warmth of your cunt. “I haven’t even filled you up with my cum yet.” He groans before leaning down and taking your nipple in his mouth.
You are completely at his mercy, every assault of his cock, his mouth, and his fingers on your body alighting your nerves that send you to a state of complete euphoria, the world fading into insignificance. A litany of moans, cries, and screams emits from you, your coherent thoughts now fragmented from his relentless thrusts that have your whole body trembling beneath him.
Your tears are a silent plea for respite, but the pain that comes with pleasure feels beyond addicting, rendering you an insatiable cockslut for him as you roll your hips to meet his overpowering ones. You push your chest outward, enticing him to lick and bite your nipples that amplifies the pleasure coursing through you.
Jay is practically worshipping your tits despite his cock drilling into your battered cunt feeling punishing, enjoying the sensation of your perky nipples on his tongue and the fullness of your tits that prompts him to squeeze one before slapping it again. His back burns from your raking fingernails, but it only intensifies his insatiable hunger to fuck you with reckless abandon.
The band in your tummy becomes unbearable as it threatens to snap, and so with a loud moan, you surrender to the intensity of your orgasmic release while a familiar yet uncontrollable sensation surges through you as your eyes go white.
Jay watches with dark satisfaction as you squirt profusely even when he doesn’t relent from thrusting his cock into your ruined cunt while his thumb never relents from rubbing your clit, your obnoxious release soaking him and the sheets beneath you.
With a deep moan from his chest, he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure as he delivers one last thrust that hits your battered cervix deliciously before going completely still, pressing his hips into yours. He lowers your sore leg, giving you the impression that it is over as he slowly withdraws his cock from you.
Just as you intend to close your legs, Jay spreads them further apart, exposing your ruined cunt lewdly. A whimper leaves you as he uses the tip of his cock to tap your clit repeatedly. He smirks down at you. “You didn’t think that we were done, did you?”
After that, hours feel like a blissful eternity as the two of you succumb to the abyss of sheer pleasure, losing yourselves in the heady mix of sweat, lust, and the unadulterated smell of sex, staining his once pristine king-sized bed. Your body constantly craves both pain and pleasure, allowing him to fuck you in every position possible where he can see your face, desiring to watch as you fall apart before he puts back the pieces just for him to repeat the intoxicating cycle.
But eventually, the intensity of your sex marathon dwindles, shifting into something unfamiliarly tender that you have never felt throughout your past experiences, because the way he is fucking you now feels as though he is making love.
“Look at you. Weren’t you crying earlier about how it’s too much?” He teases, smirking down at you as you keenly meet his slow yet shallow thrusts.
“Shut up.” You moan out, not bothered by the embarrassing crack in your strained voice. You latch your hand on his bicep, feeling his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “Love your cock in me.”
“I know you do, doll.” He chuckles breathily before kissing you on the lips sweetly without faltering his momentum while you tangle your fingers in his damp strands, pulling him down until his chest presses into your tits as you seek the closeness.
“I’m close.” You whimper into the kiss, your heart fluttering at each tender caress of his lips on yours while the knot in your tummy is prepared to unravel for the last time.
“Me too, baby.” He rasps against your lips before pulling away and burying his head into the nook of your neck. His arm slides underneath your body to encase you, pulling you closer while his thrusts begin to stutter as he is teetering on the precipice. “Let it go for me, love.”
With a hard flick of his thumb on your clit and on his affectionate command, you surrender to the overwhelming release, your back arching off the mattress as you roll your eyes at the same time he tumbles over the edge of ecstasy, his hips going still as they press into yours while he fills you to the brim for the last time, finally attaining the pinnacle of your pleasures.
Your legs around his waist tremble tremendously from the aftermath while you convulse beneath him. You whimper out at the sensation of his cock dragging along your battered walls as he intends to pull out quickly, leaving your cunt empty but smeared from the union of your fluids.
Jay settles next to you, and though the exhaustion is hitting him like a freight train, he seeks to comfort you after doing a number on you, but when he turns to face you, you are already seeking his warmth without his help as you move closer before wrapping your arms around his torso. Your eyes linger on his chest and neck that are decorated with fresh scratch marks and some hickeys; each was your doing.
Feeling satisfied by your artwork on this fine masterpiece, you decide to relax in his warm embrace, his arm cradling your head while the other is around your waistline, his fingers caressing your skin tenderly. You gaze into his dreamy eyes that have been staring at your face. “Hi.” You whisper, gracing a small yet playful smile on your lips.
Jay cracks into a grin, making him look a decade younger. “Hi, honey.” He coos as he cradles your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly.
“That was amazing.” You confess earnestly, because indeed, that was the best sex you ever had, and he even has great stamina compared to the guys your age do. Sabrina was right — the older they are, the more experienced and better they are in bed.
His grin turns smug, to which you playfully narrow your eyes. “Better than your past experiences?” He asks with genuine curiosity, because honestly, he did have some thoughts about whether or not he met your standards despite his outward confidence.
“Way better. But I think you broke me.” You say half-jokingly, but really, he completely wrecked you, rendering every part of your muscle tremendously sore that even lifting a limb feels like a gruelling chore.
For a fleeting moment, concern swirls in his irises as he scans you. “Nonsense. You’re perfect.” He says so sincerely without hesitation.
Something so different yet tangled with familiarity stirs in your heart. “Really?”
He hums, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “You’re always perfect in my eyes, doll.” He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with affection as he gazes at you. His lips curl into a smile as you adorably snuggle into his bare chest. “As much as I would love to cuddle with you, daddy has to take care of you now.”
You tilt your head up, casting him a smirk. “So you have a thing for referring to yourself as ‘daddy’ now, huh?”
He narrows his eyes at you playfully before smacking your ass cheek, eliciting a small yelp from you. “I should be the one asking you that.”
“Well, it seems fitting since you’re technically my sugar daddy.” You say with a thoughtful hum, oblivious to the bitterness painting his countenance that goes by quickly when you return your gaze to him.
“Right.” He chuckles dryly, hoping that he isn’t obvious enough to give away the bitterness that lingers within him. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you. “Was I the first you called ‘daddy’?”
“The first and last.” You affirm with a grin, and he can’t resist kissing your nose; how you can switch between adorable and sensual still amazes him. You exchange kisses with him before he decides to untangle himself from you, being careful enough as your limbs are still entirely sore.
“Wait here. I’ll fill up the bathtub for us.” He informs you before walking away from you. Your eyes fall to his bare back before quickly turning away, your cheeks flushing warmly as the visual of his entire bare back is now committed to your memory.
You let the time pass quickly by taking a momentary rest with your eyes closed until you feel your body being manoeuvred before finding yourself being carried by strong arms, prompting you to snap your eyes open in surprise. Your eyes roam around his perfect side profile, admiring how perfectly sculpted his handsome face is.
“You know, you’re the first to ever show courtesy by providing aftercare.” You speak up as soon as he submerges into the filled bathtub with you, the warm temperature seeping into your sore muscles instantly. You find yourself seated on his lap sideways, allowing you to look directly into his eyes. “Thank you.”
His eyes soften at your earnest gratitude, but it doesn’t allay his dissatisfaction upon hearing your confession. “It seems that you had a pretty shitty taste in men, doll, because providing aftercare is actually a bare minimum.” He remarks, but his tone holds no malice, only an underlying indignation on behalf of you despite you not looking the slightest bit upset about your past experience.
“At least I have finally developed the right taste in men now.” You defend yourself, grinning cheekily at him, which brings out an amused exhalation from him while he reaches out for the shampoo bottle at the side. You watch him open it and squeeze the perfect amount of liquid onto his palm.
“I’m the only and last man you’ll ever be with.” He says, lathering the liquid with his palms before applying it to your hair and massaging your scalp, but he pauses as he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Unless you have any objections?”
“No. I quite like being with you.” You confess, your grin melting to a smile so soft while your eyes sparkle with genuine adoration as you look at him. “And I like you, Jay.”
His lips curl into a smile while his heart faintly throbs. “I know.” Of course, you like him since he’s your sugar daddy.
You take him by surprise as you throw your arms around his neck, the water around you splashing in the process. “I really, really like you.” You confess again with strong emphasis.
“I like you too, doll.” He reciprocates with such sincerity, his hands descending to your waistline before hugging you close to him. “I always have since day one. I like you a little too much.” He doesn’t even care that he might have fucked things up with you by confessing the truth, because really, he liked you at first sight.
Butterflies flutter wildly in your tummy at his confession, and yet, you don’t dare to breach the unspoken boundary that remains, what you truly mean to him. Instead, you lean closer to him, your tits pressing into his chest as you angle your head to an irresistible tilt. “Kiss me?”
Jay smirks briefly before dipping his head down and kissing you sweetly on the lips. He thinks that your lips alone are enough to forget his problems, how he wishes to bask in you forever, his newfound safe haven from the cold world he has been surviving ever since he embarked on a journey where he had only himself to depend on except his best friend.
“Sore.” You sigh against his lips before falling languid as you lean dependently into him. “Too tired to move.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He murmurs, being ever so tender with you, his hand rubbing your back comfortingly. “You can depend on me, honey.” Because he knows more than anyone how easy it is to crumble without dependency on anyone trustworthy.
With each step you take, your sore thighs quiver, prompting you to hold onto the wall for support while every part of your muscles and joints is terrifically tender, but instead of staying in bed a little longer, you need food to recharge your energy after last night’s hours of passion that still feel like a wet dream of yours, but the hickeys decorating your skin and the instability in your tremendously aching limbs are a testament to his promise of reminding you that you’re his, your cheeks flushing warmly at the memory.
Despite your body screaming for respite, you continue your journey to the kitchen, following the delectable smell wafting in the air while also taking in the interior decor of his sumptuous home, the muted colours a stark contrast to your colourful apartment, but charmingly minimalist that reminds you of the owner himself. Your heart instantly flutters at the thought of him, and the flutters intensify as you stop by the kitchen’s entryway.
With a silent wince, you take another step forward before you lean sideways against the wall with arms folded below your chest, watching him in silence as he gets immersed in his element with his broad, handsome back facing you. You find yourself smiling despite the untamed butterflies in your tummy, swooning over the domestic sight of your sugar daddy, who no doubt will be an ideal husband.
The black polo shirt fits his physique perfectly and displays his toned arms for your eyes to feast on, even more so when you catch the mere sight of his golden Rolex on his wrist. He nearly looks unrecognisable with his raven hair unfettered, the volume and some wispy strands hovering over his forehead making it look like he has his hair permed. In fact, he looks a decade younger.
“You might want to take a picture if you intend to stare at me all day. It’ll last longer.” Jay says without taking a glance at you, pulling you out of your reverie.
Your cheeks flare with embarrassment, wondering how he can feel your silent presence when he’s been too immersed in cooking. Nevertheless, when your eyes meet his amused ones, you greet him with a sheepish smile. “Hi.”
Your tone sounds delicate as to the way you look, like a dream he never wants to wake up from. His softened eyes linger on your angelic face, but at the eventual realisation of his white button-down blouse being adorned on your figure, he feels the familiar hunger rousing within him. It intensifies when he notices that you are bare of any leggings since his blouse reaches the midsection of your gorgeous thighs. His gaze lingers on the glaring hickeys and faint bite marks on your once-pristine skin that he can’t seem to count. He really did ruin you.
Jay quickly masters self-restraint as he doesn’t wish to wreck you like he did last night. “Hi, honey.” He reciprocates gently, giving you a smile so soft that it looks radiantly dreamy. He places two ceramic bowls on the marbled island. “I made you breakfast.”
Your stomach rumbles instantly, but instead of heading straight for the steaming bowl, you feel a gravitational pull towards the man of your dreams instead. “I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”
A smirk touches his lips while his eyes drink you in. “Surprised, doll?”
You hum, going straight for a hug that he wholeheartedly embraces you. “A delightful surprise, at that.” Your voice is muffled in his shoulder as you bask in his warmth and scent. “Any other secret talent about you that I should know?”
Jay chuckles breathily, an attractive tune that intensifies your feelings for him. “Stick around a little longer, and you’ll find out.” He says before planting a kiss on your crown. “Unless you intend on leaving me.”
There is an edge in his light-hearted tone, eliciting a frown from you, but your heartstrings tug painfully at the scenario that evokes a new insecurity within you as you imagine the opposite happening instead. “I don’t plan on leaving you, Jay.” You reassure him as you gently pull away to look at his face, your arms remaining attached around his torso. “Do you intend on leaving me—”
“No. Never.” He cuts you off sternly, his tone and eyes holding an unfathomable volume of promises that both scare and reassure you, because no one has ever looked at you like the way he does right now, as though he will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side. “You’re unforgettable, doll. I don’t think I could ever find someone like you.”
Your eyes trace his every beautiful feature that burns in your memory, how truly unreal that a man like him seems to cherish you more than you will ever realise. “You don’t feel real.” You mutter absentmindedly.
Jay adorns a charming smile, dimples showcasing on his cheeks. He feels a bubble of amusement in his chest as you continue to gaze at him dreamily. He takes you by surprise when he leans down and kisses your lips sweetly. “Do I feel real to you now?” He whispers against your parted lips before pulling away.
“So real.” A giggle leaves you, a contagious sound that widens his smile. You look at him with a woozy grin, your head spinning in a good way that makes you feel as though your dopamine has reached its apex. “Hi.”
“You sound and look drunk, honey.” He comments amusingly as he pinches your cheek, but not enough to hurt you.
“Can’t help it. You’re just so dreamy.” You sigh softly, your eyes falling to his lips before you lean forward with your head tilted to the right angle for your lips to fit with his, kissing him tenderly.
“Say you, beautiful. The woman of my dreams.” He murmurs against your lips, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer than you already were. He breaks the lip lock before he can get too carried away by your irresistible allure, chuckling fondly when you turn pouty. “Come on, honey. You can pout for as long as you want after breakfast.”
Not too long later, you are settled on the stool right next to him, slurping on your beef udon noodle soup that tastes delectably rich. Despite satisfying your hunger, your heart flutters every now and then at his every action—the way he delicately holds your hair and brushes the strands that seem to be getting in the way while you eat, giving you the small side dish of his homemade kimchi that is meant to be his after you finish yours. You simply wish for this moment to last a little longer.
“Just to let you know, I cleared my schedule for this whole week so that we’d be able to spend more time together.” He informs you as soon as the two of you finish the bowls of udon.
You pause from taking sips of your drink before slowly putting down the glass. You furrow your eyebrows in concern. “Is that really okay? I’m sure you’re busy with all the work.”
“It’s fine, honey. My secretary will handle the paperwork.” He smiles, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek affectionately. “I want to focus on you, on us. We haven't really spent that much time together anyway.”
Your heart swells with something so peculiar despite the recognisable affection. Your eyes soften as you place a hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for always making time for me.”
Jay smiles softly, grabbing your hand before placing a kiss into your palm while you feel a familiar spark. “For you, always.”
Before you can speak, his chiming phone intervenes, prompting him to reach for his phone across the island. You take sips of your drink again, watching him from the corner of your eye and noticing how the radiant contentment on his face dims as he checks his phone.
“Is everything okay?” You ask tentatively as you put down your empty glass, your senses being aware of his dour mood despite the neutrality in his countenance.
Jay places his phone down and shifts his attention to you, his heart clenching as he scans your beautiful facial features. For a moment, he debates silently whether or not to let you know, as he hates for the light in your eyes to dim, but when your hand gently cradles his face, he caves in. “If it means leaving you for a few business trips abroad, then no, everything is not okay.” He confesses sullenly, leaning into your touch.
You try not to let the disappointment affect you deeply at the thought of his possibly long absence, as you have already expected this, since his job does require travelling overseas for business transactions, etc. “When?” You ask, your voice a steady neutrality.
“I should be making the proper arrangements by next week.” He informs, his dark brows furrowing as he seems to be thinking deeply.
You pull him out of his thoughts with a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. We still have this week to spend time together.” You say positively, mustering a wide smile that you hope is convincing to mask your disappointment.
“But it isn’t enough.” He counters, his tone lacing with frustration that borders on desperation, but you decide to allay his distressed emotions, giving his palm a tender kiss before positioning his hand to cup your cheek. His heart flutters at the unexpected action from you since he’s usually the one giving hand kisses. Just then, an idea pops in his head. “Honey, what do you think of travelling abroad?”
“I’ve always dreamed of being able to travel often once I gained financial stability.” You sigh softly, leaning into his touch while your beautifully sparkling eyes never stray off his face. “Why do you ask?”
Jay simply smiles, and his dimples are an adorable presence on his cheeks. “Because I’m going to make your dreams come true.”
synopsis: in which you push the judge too far, you learn that actions have consequences—and he always delivers the sentence himself.
genre: judge au
pairing: judge!sunghoon x troubled!reader
warnings: meandom!sunghoon, cold!sunghoon, horndog!reader, manhandling, cornering, degrading (holy fuck sm degrading), crazy dirty talk, gagging with fingers, hair pulling, choking, biting, spanking ass + pussy, rough p in v (unprotected), clit rubbing, creampie, bondage, fingering, overstimulation, orgasm denial and no aftercare. think that’s it…
wc: 6.3k
a/n: this is so filthy!!! yall im on a plot burnout i have so many ideas i just can’t bring myself to write a proper full length fic :[ anyways… notes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. enjoy <3
═══════
your arms are crossed over your chest like armor. it's not foolproof—your wrists are still cuffed, and the bruises from last week's chase are still turning the edges of your skin a dull yellow with splotches of blue. you hold yourself steady anyway, like you've already survived worse.
you have.
the courtroom is too quiet for your taste. sterile walls, tired faces, and that rusted old flag in the corner drooping like it's had one too many years of watching justice be handed out unevenly.
there's a bailiff at your side, fingers twitching near their belt, as if they think you might leap over the railing and bolt. you don't blame them. you've done worse for less serious crimes.
but right now, you're not thinking about running—not even close.
you're staring straight at him.
park sunghoon.
honorable judge. esteemed in the district. untouchable. 'not for long,' you think to yourself, a small smirk gracing your lips as you hold your gaze.
his nameplate gleams under the artificial lighting, but it's not as cold as the look in his eyes when he glances down at you. black rob, pale hands, pristine posture like he's never once had a bad day, or at least never shown it.
he speaks your name like it tastes bitter in his mouth, his plump lips pursing in distaste.
"theft. trespassing. property damage," sunghoon reads, flipping through the paperwork like it's boring him. "and now contempt of court. again."
your smirk is the only weapon you have left, "that one wasn't on purpose."
his gaze doesn't flinch, "you were caught lighting a cigarette in the bathroom during recess."
"wasn't lit," you say coolly, his gaze now piercing into you. "i didn't even get to spark it," you almost whine out.
"because the officer stopped you."
"because the lighter was out of fluid," you shoot back, offended that he'd think that you'd let some officer stop you from lighting a spark.
for a moment, you think you see something twitch in the corner of his mouth—amusement? disbelief? but it's gone before it settles. he leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, voice clipped, "you don't seem to take this seriously."
you stare him down, your eyebrows raised, "you don't seem to live in the same world as the rest of us."
sunghoon says nothing at first, just studies you, eyes narrowing the longer the silence drags. he looks at you like you're a puzzle he didn't expect to come across and now he's trying to decide whether to solve you or break you apart and pack you away.
finally, he speaks, "given the repeated offences and your inability to cooperate with court proceedings, you are hereby found guilty."
your chest tightens—not because you're surprised. you knew this was coming, it was always going to come to this.
"you're to pay a fine of $5,000"
you snort, loud and messy which causes sunghoon to look at you with what you could only assume was disgust, "you might as well say 5 million. i don't have shit, your honour." your voice drips with mockery on that last part, but it's not like you can help it. titles mean nothing to people like you. not when the system's always rigged the same way.
sunghoon doesn't react the way you expect. no fury, no raised voice. instead, he rests his chin against his hand and stares down at you, thoughtful, composed—calculating.
"then perhaps we can make alternate arrangements."
you narrow your eyes. "like what? community service? sweeping the courthouse floors?" you had heard it all before, and you'd be damned if you did any of it.
he ignores your sarcasm. "i'm offering you a deal." you don't trust deals, especially not from men like him. but you're listening.
"you're clearly resourceful. difficult, but clever." his eyes scan your face like he's making a mental file, "if you truly cannot pay, then you'll work it off. under my supervision."
you blink up at him, dumbfounded, "what?"
sunghoon doesn't smile, doesn't even shift, "you'll report here. every morning, 6 am sharp. you'll handle clerical tasks, sorting files, transcriptions. menial work, mostly. i'll be watching."
you lean forward, just a little. "and if i say no?"
his voice is ice cold, "then you'll serve time."
you flinch at that, prison isn't unfamiliar—but it's worse this time. you're older now, tired and you know the kind of people they throw you in with.
your jaw clenches, "this some kind of power trip for you?"
his eyes glint, unreadable. "no. but it might be one for you. if you can handle being civil."
you hate him for that. for the way his words crawl under your skin, settle in your ribs like they belong there. you hate him for being calm, for not flinching when you push back. for the way he makes you feel cornered even when you're standing tall.
"fine," you spit. "i'll take your little deal."
sunghoon nods, finally. bangs the gavel once sending shocks through your body.
"court adjourned."
but as you're escorted out, you catch the way he watches you. slow, deliberate. like he's already plotting what to do with a fire like yours.
and you know this is far from over.
═══════
6 am comes fast, you show up at 6:17am.
your boots echo too loud on the marble floors of the courthouse as you stroll in like you own the place. hoodie unzipped, hands in your pockets, chewing gum with all the arrogance of someone who knows they're untouchable—or just wants to see how far they can push before they aren't.
sunghoon is already waiting, of course. seated behind his desk in his chambers, reading over a case file, all rigid posture and starched cuffs. he doesn't look up when you enter, but you feel the chill in the air shift the moment he registers your presence.
you lean against the doorframe, pop your gum, and smile sweetly, "morning, your honour."
he finally looks up, no smile—no greeting. just a flat, "you're late."
you shrug, "public transportation's a bitch. and my ankle monitor doesn't exactly come with wings."
sunghoon closes the file slowly, deliberately, "your sentence began at 6 am sharp. not whenever you decide to roll out of bed."
you wander further into his office, dragging your fingers across the edge of his polished desk. "well, maybe you should've sentenced me to something more exciting. i'd be more motivated to be punctual." you snicker softly, your fingers brushing against some books before landing on a small statue.
he doesn't rise, doesn't react. just watches you with that unreadable stare, like he's already dissecting your every move.
"sit."
you raise an eyebrow before looking around the room, no chair in sight, "where?"
he gestures with his pen to a wooden chair shoved against the back wall. no cushion. no wheels. no dignity.
you scoff, "wow. luxury accommodations."
"sit," he says again, this time lower—sharper.
you do—but not before you tip the chair slightly and drag it across the floor, the screech of wood against tile sounding loud and obnoxious. you plop down and swing your legs up onto the edge of his desk like it's your living room.
"so," you say, folding your arms behind your head. "what soul-crushing task do i get to do first? file your fan mail? shine your gavel?"
sunghoon doesn't flinch. doesn't blink. just reaches over and, without warning, shoves your boots off his desk with one smooth motion. hard enough to jolt the whole chair, causing you to hold onto the desk for support.
you laugh in surprise before masking it quickly with a silly remark, "ooh. touchy."
he leans forward now, voice calm but laced with threat, "i don't care how you've gotten away with things in the past. in this room, under my supervision, you follow."
"or what?" you bite, eyes narrowing. "you gonna slap another fine on me? lock me up again?"
"no," he murmurs, his eyes not leaving yours. "i'll break you without ever lifting a finger."
you go quiet for the first time because for some strange reason, you believe him.
but that doesn't mean you're going to make it easy.
by 10 am, you've misfiled at least four court documents on purpose, accidentally-on-purpose spilled coffee on one, and whistled a highly inappropriate tune every time someone passes the open door.
sunghoon doesn't snap. he doesn't yell, but the tightness in his jaw gets worse. his sleeves are rolled to his elbows now, veins taut, hand gripped around his pen like he's imagining stabbing something with it. you allow your gaze to wander over him, relishing in his cold presence as you eye-fuck him to oblivion.
you stretch lazily in your seat across the room, flipping through a file upside down just to be difficult.
"you always this fun at parties?" you ask, eyes lazily scanning the document.
"you always this exhausting when you're sober?"
you grin, "you should've sentenced me to something harder. i get off on discipline."
he finally looks up. eyes dark and voice low.
"is that what this is? acting out so someone will finally put you in your place?"
you blink, not expecting that.
sunghoon stands now, slow and deliberate, and crosses the room to tower over where you're still slouched in your chair. he leans down just enough to make your breath hitch, his minty fresh cologne invading your senses—sending your body into overdrive.
"you want someone to punish you, is that it?" he says, voice barely above a whisper. "because you're skating dangerously close to contempt again."
you swallow harshly but you hold the smirk, even if it's faltering, "you threatening me, your honour?"
his lips twitch, not a smile—something colder.
"no," he says. "just waiting for you to slip. and when you do—when all that bratty bravado cracks, you'll beg for someone like me to be the one holding the leash."
your throat goes dry.
he straightens and turns away, already done with you for the moment, and you're left there blinking like the ground shifted under your feet.
this was supposed to be fun. a game.
but now? now you think he's playing back.
and he plays dirty.
═══════
you should've gone home.
you were dismissed hours ago. the office lights are off, most of the staff gone, echoing laughter and jangling keys disappearing down the hallway.
but you stayed.
because you wanted to see what would happen if you crossed the line, alone—with him.
sunghoon's still in his chambers with his door cracked, light spilling out in a narrow slice across the floor. you lean in the doorway without knocking, arms folded, teeth sunk into the inside of your cheek just to keep from smiling too wide.
he doesn't look up.
"still working?" you ask, voice low and sugary.
he doesn't respond at first. then, without looking away from his file, "if you're still here, it's because you want something. so say it, and make it fast." you saunter in, drag your nails across his bookshelf, pull a file halfway out and shove it back in crooked just to be annoying, "just wanted to chat. you seem lonely."
his jaw flexes, but he doesn't rise—doesn't yell. instead, he sets his pen down, lifting his eyes to you slowly, deliberately—and lets out a low breath through his nose.
"you're a desperate little thing, aren't you?"
you blink, "excuse me?"
he stands.
you don't move. just watch him stalk forward, quiet, composed, eyes cutting into you like scalpels.
he stops inches from you, doesn't touch. doesn't lean in.
but his voice? razor-edged filth.
"you dress like a brat, talk like a slut, act out like a girl who's been begging for someone to spit in her mouth and call her worthless." your breath catches and your legs almost give out.
"you're not here to talk," he continues, voice lower, crueler. "you're here because no one's ever put you in your place and you're too much of a mess to admit you want it."
you flinch, lips parting, "you don't even know me—"
"i know everything," he cuts in sharply. "i've read your records. i've seen the trail of damage you leave behind just to get someone to notice you. daddy issues, authority issues, zero impulse control. you want men to hate you just so they'll finally touch you."
you gasp, cheeks flushing hot—but not with shame.
with need.
because he's right. because no one's ever talked to you like this.
"look at you," he sneers. "breathing heavy already, shifting your legs like you're not soaking through your little panties right now. you came in here thinking you could bait me with your bratty mouth, hoping i'd snap and pin you against the wall like some filthy fantasy you've cooked up in that head of yours."
you say nothing. you can't.
"but i'm not like the boys you fuck behind bars or in alleyways," he whispers, eyes boring into yours. "i don't play with trash."
you whimper.
his smile is slow and cruel, "oh? that got you wet, didn't it?" your thighs squeeze together instinctively, and he laughs—cold, low, unamused.
"pathetic. dripping just from being spoken to like the little cum-dump you are."
you try to speak, but your mouth won't work. you're breathing too fast, too shallow, clit throbbing through your jeans, nipples hard under your hoodie, and he hasn't even touched you.
he leans in, barely. his cool breath fanned against your ear causing you to shiver, "you'll come back tomorrow, won't you?" he murmurs against your ear. "all sweet and mouthy again, hoping this is the day I finally bend you over my desk and fuck your brains out like the filthy little whore you pretend not to be."
you whine—a soft, needy sound that makes his eyes darken just a little.
then he pulls back, his hands stay folded behind him. he steps past you, calm as ever, voice low and bored. "go home. you're dripping on my floor."
═══════
you start showing up on time.
5:59 am, hair damp from a rushed shower, hoodie half-zipped, eyes sharp with purpose. you slide into the office like you own the place—and every day, you find him already there, perfect as ever. sleeves rolled up, tie tight, reading over a file like he didn't just spend the last twelve hours thinking about the way you moaned for him without him even touching you.
you don't speak much now, you don't have to.
the first time it happens, it's barely a whisper of a moment—you walk past him to grab a stack of paperwork, and your hip brushes his hand resting on the edge of the desk. soft. slow. deliberate. and you don't flinch, don't apologize.
you smile.
his pen halts mid-sentence.
you don't look back.
the second time, you lean in close to hand him a stapled report—closer than you need to, your fingers brushing over his when he takes it from you. you let your thumb drag just barely over his knuckle before pulling away.
he doesn't speak, but his jaw's clenched so tight you hear it pop.
the third time, it's worse. you're leaning over his desk, too far, pretending to scan the page while your hips subtly roll back, brushing against where he's standing behind you. it's slow—not full contact but just enough pressure to feel the line of his thigh brush your ass.
you feel him freeze. you breathe out, soft and sweet, "oops."
he doesn't move. doesn't even blink. you can feel his restraint like a second heat, burning against your skin.
you straighten up with a grin and saunter off and for the rest of the day, you can feel his eyes on your back like a loaded weapon.
═══════
you live for the control—the knowledge that you're the one unraveling him now. no chains, no cuffs, no cell. just you and your filthy little grin in his clean little world.
every time your hand lingers too long on his wrist when passing him a pen. every time your fingers brush his thigh when you "accidentally" drop a file. every time you stretch beside him, moaning faintly when you reach your arms overhead like you're trying to kill him with your spine alone.
he doesn't say a word.
not one curse, not one command. but every breath he takes feels heavier. every time he adjusts his cuffs, it's slower. rougher. the one time he looks at you, really looks, while you're standing by the window with the light catching your smug little smirk and you swear there's murder in his eyes.
or maybe lust, or both.
you bite your lip and wink.
he goes back to reading but his knuckles are white around the edge of the page.
you don't stop, of course you don't. you know he's cracking. you just want to see how far before he breaks.
═══════
you don't knock today.
you walk in like always—mouth full of gum, hair half done, smirk locked and loaded.
but the outfit? oh, this is new.
short skirt, barely mid-thigh. skin-tight, no stockings. no shame.
your blouse clings to your chest with every breath, just one wrong move from spilling open—and you bend to pick up a file by the door the second you walk in, as if you didn't plan the whole motion.
you make sure your ass is pointed directly at his chair, you hear nothing for a beat. then the sound of a pen snapping in his hand.
you bite your lip to keep from smiling. "good morning, your honour," you say sweetly, rising slow, letting your tits bounce just enough. "got something for you to sign."
he doesn't answer. doesn't look up. he just sets the ruined pen down, stands in silence, and walks to the far cabinet—jaw sharp, back stiff.
he doesn't speak for an hour, but you don't stop.
you lean across the desk to file something, letting your breasts nearly spill out. you sit on the edge of the table too close, too comfortable, skirt hiked up high on your thighs. you cross and uncross your legs too slow. you sigh every time you shift, like the fabric's clinging to places it shouldn't.
and the worst part? you don't even look at him anymore.
you just know. you know he's watching. you feel his silence like a leash. and still, you test it.
again. and again.
until—
"shut the door."
you freeze, glancing over to see that sunghoon's still behind the desk, hands folded, gaze pinned directly to your face for the first time all day.
there's no emotion in his tone, just something dark.
you step back slowly, click the door shut.
"lock it."
you do, your pulse skips.
he nods once toward the chair in front of his desk, "sit."
you obey—this time, no sass, no roll of the eyes. he watches you for a long, heavy moment. then: "stand up."
you blink, but you rise. he leans back in his chair, eyes raking over you with undisguised disgust. "this what you wear to court? no wonder you can't stay out of handcuffs."
you shiver when his voice drops an octave, "i've let you act out. walk around my office like it's a runway. rub your filthy little body against me like a dog in heat. but today?" his tongue clicks, "today, you came here begging."
you bite your lip and he notices. "don't even deny it," he sneers. "you dressed like a fucking pornstar and shoved your tits in my face three times before lunch."
you blink fast, thighs press together. "you want attention so bad," he whispers, voice cold and cruel. "you'd crawl under this desk and suck cock just to feel useful for once."
you whimper causing his eyes to narrow "pathetic."
you take a shaky step forward, voice too soft. "so do something about it."
"no." the word is a bullet. sharp. final. you flinch, "what?"
"i'm not giving you what you want," he says, standing now—towering over you, eyes blazing. "not until you ask." you swallow, your breath stutters, "...i just did—" "not like that," he leans in close, still not touching, his breath ghosting your cheek. "i want to hear you beg. properly. filthy. on your knees if you have to."
your mouth opens but no sound comes out.
"c'mon," he hisses. "say it. say you're a dirty little whore who wore this skirt just to get her judge to ruin her."
your knees go weak.
"say you've been dripping for me for weeks. say you need to be put in your place. beg me to spit in your mouth and call you mine." you nearly drop right there while he watches you—smug, furious, and impossibly composed.
"but you won't," he whispers. "because you're a coward. just a brat with no bite."
you snap, you sink to your knees with your palms on your thighs. skirt riding high, head tilted up with your tongue caught between your teeth.
"please," you whisper, cheeks hot. "i wore it for you. i wanted you to see what you've been missing. i wanted you to lose control. i wanted to feel owned. like a fucking toy." his nostrils flare and you crawl forward. "i've been dripping for you since the first time you called me worthless," you breathe out shamelessly. "you don't have to fuck me. just—just say i'm yours."
his hand twitches at his side but still he doesn't touch you, he just smiles—slow and dangerous. "you're finally learning," he murmurs. "maybe tomorrow i'll reward you."
and he walks out, leaves you on the floor—aching, wrecked and obedient.
═══════
you show up like nothing happened, tight dress, high heels and no bra. you don't even bring a file, you just lean against the edge of his desk like you're here to ruin him.
sunghoon doesn't look up, not right away. but when he does—it's over.
his eyes flick up to your chest, then back to your mouth, and the moment your lips part to say something smart, he moves.
fast.
the chair scrapes back with a violent screech. you barely have time to gasp before he grabs your wrist and slams you against the desk, stomach flat against the wood, cheek pressed down by the weight of his hand. you yelp, breath knocked out of you—but it's not pain. it's heat, flooding between your legs in a dizzying wave.
"this what you wanted?" sunghoon growls, voice raw at your ear. "me snapping like some animal? you filthy, needy, shameless little—fuck." he yanks your arms behind your back, pins both wrists with one big hand and grinds you into the desk. "look at you squirming and wet. couldn't go one more day without getting manhandled, huh?"
you whine out when his free hand slides up your spine, griping the back of your neck, forcing your head to the side so your cheek stays plastered to the wood. your eyes snap open in shock when he pushes his thick digits into your mouth, forcing your mouth full.
"you've been begging for this," he snarls. "dressing like a whore. moaning when i speak. bending over like you want to get fucked in front of the whole court." you can barely breathe—your mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
he laughs—low and cruel, "what's wrong? mouth finally too full of regret?" he spreads your legs with his knee, lets his thigh press up between them while his grip on your wrists tightens.
you're soaked. dripping straight through your panties, probably smearing slick across his desk — and he feels it. his thigh twitches and he groans. "pathetic," he growls. "you're soaking my leg and i haven't even touched your cunt."
you whimper into the desk, legs trembling, thighs trying to grind down on his thigh—but he pulls it back with a smirk. "you think you run this game," he whispers in your ear. "you think a few bratty looks and slutty outfits make you powerful."
he yanks your head back by the hair and forces you to look at him—eyes wild, chest rising, jaw clenched.
"you don't run shit here." his fingers trail down your jaw, not gentle—gripping your face like he wants to crush it, "you're mine."
you blink fast. your lips part as he finally removes his fingers from your mouth.
"say it."
your voice shakes. "i'm—i'm yours."
"again."
"i'm yours."
"louder."
"i'm fucking yours," you scream—thighs shaking, cunt pulsing, wrists still pinned.
he stares down at you—flushed, dripping, ruined against his desk. then he leans in, lips just brushing your ear, "you're not cumming until i say so."
you whimper in response. "and when you do," he breathes, "you're gonna thank me for breaking you."
he steps back and lets you collapse to your knees.
undone.
and he leaves you there, again.
═══════
you should've ran.
the look on his face the second you step into his office—eyes cold, mouth tight, sleeves rolled up like he's about to sentence you to death, should've sent you crawling.
but you don't run, you smirk—and that's all it takes. he grabs you before the door even clicks shut—slams you against it, one hand fisting in your hair, the other squeezing your throat until your breath stutters.
"tired of you strutting around like you're untouchable," he hisses. "you want to be fucked so bad? fine. i'll fuck you like the filthy little criminal you are."
you whimper when his grip tightens—then he spins you, throws you against his desk. your hips crash into the edge, papers scattering, your hands scrambling for balance. he's behind you again, dragging your skirt up so high it tears, yanking your panties down and tossing them like trash.
you feel his palm ghost over your ass and you can't help but push yourself back against him in excitement. "already soaked," he mutters, disgusted. "fucking slut."
crack.
you yelp—the first spank makes you jolt. second makes you moan. third has your knees buckling. he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head back, hissing in your ear, "say thank you."
"th-thank you," you pant.
crack.
"louder."
"thank you!"
he pulls your head back harder, exposing your throat—then his mouth is on you, biting, not kissing, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin until you cry out. sunghoon groans when he feels you twitch violently in his hold, his teeth scraping against your neck as he continues to leave violent splotches on your skin.
"that's right," he breathes. "cry for me. scream if you need to. no one's coming for you." his hand slips between your legs, finally, and slaps your sopping cunt. you wail in response, your legs giving up on you as you rely on the desk in front of you and sunghoon as support.
"needy," he sneers. "dripping all over my desk like a goddamn animal."
his fingers slide through the mess—not inside, just over your clit, slow, taunting strokes that make you tremble, "you wanna cum?"
"yes," you gasp. "yes please—"
he pulls away, completely.
you sob—back arching, thighs clenching, breath broken.
"beg better."
"please, please—sunghoon, i need it, i need you, please—!"
he laughs. cold, "pathetic."
then he grabs your waist, slams you forward until your chest hits the desk with your hands flat, legs spread, back arched—and shoves his thick cock inside you in one brutal, single thrust. in the midst you hadn't even noticed sunghoon slip out his aching cock out of his dress pants, to busy fighting for your release.
you scream at the intrusion. he doesn't give you a second to adjust, he fucks you like he owns you—hips snapping, cock dragging deep, thick and brutal and perfect. one hand wrapped around your throat, the other gripping your ass so hard you'll bruise. your walls suck him in like a vacuum, refusing to let him go causing him to hiss.
you try to meet his thrusts — you try to grind back — but he slaps your ass again, harder, and hisses, "don't move unless i tell you to."
you go still, breathless and shaking. his fingers slip down again—circling your clit, slow, taunting and just as your body starts to tighten, just as your orgasm builds—
he pulls away. again.
you sob.
"not yet," he growls. "you think you've earned it? after all that teasing?"
his hand slides up, fingers wrapping around your throat in a punishing grip. "you're gonna take it," he breathes, "every inch. every slap. every denial. and you're gonna fucking thank me."
"thank you," you cry. "please—please, i'll be good—"
he leans over you, cock still buried, teeth sinking into your shoulder as he continues his pace and fucks you rougher, harder and crueler. you lose count of how many times he brings you to the edge—how many times he lets you feel it just to rip it away.
you're drooling. trembling. begging.
and finally—finally—when you're gasping, soaked, ruined—
"cum."
the word cracks through you like lightning. your body explodes in trembles.
you convulse around him, sobbing, screaming, cunt clenching tight as he chokes you through it —fingers digging in, cock pulsing deep inside you until he curses and spills inside, hips slamming once, twice more as he fucks it all into you.
then silence, just panting. shaking. his hands still on your hips as his cum dripping down your thighs.
you lay there lifeless but sunghoon has other plans, his hands grip you tightly as he contorts and pushes your body around—moving you from his desk to his chair.
you don't know how you ended up like this, but you're tied up in his chair and you're far to fucked out to care.
not just restrained—displayed. arms behind your back, wrists cuffed tight to the armrests. legs spread open and bent at the knee, ankles locked in place with thick leather straps he probably had custom made.
you can feel his cum leaking out of you and you can't do a thing about it. sunghoon leans back against his desk like he has all the time in the world—black dress shirt undone at the collar, sleeves rolled up, eyes drinking you in.
"look at you," his voice is low and cruel. you swallow hard, your cheeks are burning. your chest is rising and falling too fast.
he pushes off the desk and walks toward you, slow.
his fingers trail up your thigh, featherlight, and you twitch, already sensitive, already leaking.
"legs shaking," he murmurs in admiration. "pussy swollen. thighs sticky."
he crouches in front of you, one hand sliding under your ass, lifting you just enough to tilt your hips.
"still dripping," he sneers. "you're disgusting."
your breath catches as he drags two fingers through your folds—slick and soaked and overstimulated—and lifts them to your lips.
"open." you obey mindlessly.
he pushes them in slow, watches you suck them clean, jaw twitching with how filthy the taste is. "good girl," he mocks. then his fingers drop back down and he spits on your pussy and watches it drips down between your folds, warm and thick, mixing with his cum and your slick.
you squirm—but the cuffs hold you down, "don't move." his palm lands on your inner thigh, hard enough to sting. then he slides two fingers inside slow, unforgiving—and curls them just right.
your whole body jerks. "that's it," he breathes. "let me feel it. let me feel this tight little hole try to suck me in." he fucks you with his fingers like he owns you, thumb rolling over your clit. soaking the leather seat beneath you.
your eyes roll back and your moans turn desperate. "sunghoon," you whimper. "please, i'm—i'm gonna—"
he stops and pulls out completely.
you scream, your thighs tremble and your cunt clenches pathetically around nothing. you're left dripping, throbbing, aching for him—and he just leans in, tongue sliding up the inside of your thigh like he's taunting prey.
then he bites, hard.
you cry out and he slaps your pussy in response, watching you twitch.
he stands back up, looming over you. his hand curls around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your eyes flutter.
"you don't cum," he growls, "until i say you do." you nod, fast.
his free hand drags down the front of his pants—slow. threatening. you're his now. completely. tied to his chair, soaked with his cum, ruined from the inside out.
"we're not leaving this room," he says, leaning in close, "until you've screamed my name so many times you forget your own."
your arms are still pinned, your thighs are still open and your cunt is still leaking.
and sunghoon? he's sitting across from you like he's watching a show. shirt off now. cock out with one hand lazily stroking himself while the other rubs small firm circles on your clit.
you scream. your whole body jerks against the cuffs, hips snapping up, trying to run from the pressure—but there's nowhere to go. he hums, watching the way your thighs tremble, "this is what happens when you act out," he says calmly. "i could've been kind. could've been soft."
he presses his thumb hard against your sensitive nub. you sob out in response, far to overstimulated.
"but no," he breathes, eyes locked on your face. "you had to shove your tits in my face and moan my name like a fucking whore." you throw your head back, mouth falling open as he slides right against the bundle of nerves that are already so sore it hurts.
you're soaked, ruined, twitching. your legs keep trying to close, but the cuffs won't let you.
you cum again.
you scream—choking on the breath that never makes it out—your entire body jerking, wrists straining, tears spilling.
sunghoon finally moves, he kicks the chair until it swivels toward him, then straddles it—his knees on either side of yours, thighs wide, cock thick and leaking.
you cry in relief until he grabs his cock and slaps it against your overstimulated clit.
you howl in pain, he leans in close, lips at your ear, "don't pass out on me," he murmurs. "you're not done yet."
and then he pushes inside with no warning, no mercy.
just his cock slamming in deep, so deep—you can't even scream, just choke on the cry as your back arches, arms still trapped, legs locked wide open, cunt fluttering helplessly around the stretch.
"tight," he hisses. "fucking tight."
he doesn't ease in, he pounds you. the chair jerks with every thrust—your wrists slam against the armrests and your legs shake violently from the overstimulation, he grabs your throat to keep you still.
"cry for me," he pants. "let them hear you beg." you sob. scream. cum again and he fucks through it, groaning deep in his throat as your cunt squeezes him tight and refuses to let go.
"i should leave you like this," he growls. "cuffed to my chair. ruined. dripping. fucked open and forgotten."
you can't speak, you can barely breathe.
but then he leans in with his mouth pressed to your ear and growls, "but you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
you nod helpless and broken.
"filthy little thing." his hand slides to your face, gripping it—holding your jaw still as he fucks you rougher, meaner, hips snapping, chair rocking, desk rattling behind you.
you cum one last time your loudest scream yet—and he finally groans, curses, slams in deep and spills inside, so hard you feel it throb against your cervix.
silence, just breathing.
just cum, just slick and heat and soaked leather.
you're limp with his cum leaking out of you again. your wrists raw, thighs bruised and your head luls back.
your whole body is twitching. you're soaked. stretched. dripping down the legs of the chair, his cum leaking out of your throbbing cunt in slow, slick trails. wrists raw.
and sunghoon?he's already tucking himself back into his slacks.
not a glance spared, not a word spoken. just the quiet click of his belt and the sound of your ragged breathing. you whimper—a soft, broken little sound and try to shift, try to close your legs, but the cuffs keep them open. exposed. leaking.
"pathetic," he mutters, adjusting his cuffs. your lips part and you want to speak. to ask if he's going to untie you, if he's going to help you down—if this means anything at all.
but he cuts you off before you can even form the words, "that," he says, voice flat, "should teach you how to behave."
your stomach drops as he walks to the door. he doesn't touch you, doesn't untie you, doesn't clean you up or kiss your cheek or say anything kind. just unlocks the door, turns to look at you one last time—ruined, bound, soaked with his cum and shaking from everything he just did to you.
his expression is unreadable, cold. "next time you walk into my courtroom acting like a whore," he says, "you'll leave in worse shape than this." he pauses, walking back to you and you have a glimmer of hope that he'd untie you.
but that all comes crashing down when he reaches you and he leans in, mouth at your ear, voice dark and smug.
"court's adjourned, baby."
then he walks out, leaving you tied there, used, aching.
alone.
and still desperate for more.
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
pairing: husband!sim jake x fem! reader x perv ghost!park sunghoon
wc: 18.5k
summary: you and jake just got married and moved into your dream house, a cozy little place that’s supposed to be a fresh start. but from the moment you settle in, things feel off. the shower curtain moves on its own. you feel hands on you when no one’s there. jake thinks you’re stressed, but you know something is wrong with this house. whatever it is, it’s only getting closer.
tags/content: smut, 18+, brief oral (f! receiving), daddy kink (for jake as per usual, used in both casual moments and a bit of the smut in the beginning), voyeurism (on sunghoon’s end), jake thinks you’re a little crazy but he still loves you, mentions of reader being on medication/pills for her hallucinations, drugging via said medications (sunghoon replaces them with aphrodisiacs without readers knowledge), noncon (since reader is drugged), mean dom sunghoon who insists on making you beg, p in v, unprotected sex, jake lowkey gets cucked a little but then he joins in, cheating kinda (on jake w sunghoon, sunghoon loves to emphasize that you're jake's wife), sunghoon also has one sided beef w jake, fingering, threesome, double penetration, jake can NOT see or hear sunghoon for a majority of the story, fear play kinda bc jake is scared out of his mind but gets hard anyway, multiple orgasms for reader, slut shaming + humiliation from sunghoon,
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
The box marked KITCHEN – MISC sat half-open on the counter. Three minutes had passed while you stood there hoping the spatulas and measuring cups might somehow organize themselves into something useful.
“Jake.”
From the living room, he glanced up from where he was kneeling beside a tower of boxes labeled BOOKS in his cramped handwriting. His hair jutted out at odd angles from repeatedly dragging his fingers through it. “Yeah?”
“Did you see where the coffee mugs went?”
“Uh.” He sat back on his heels and squinted at the kitchen like the answer might be written on the cabinets. “Weren’t they in the box with the plates?”
“No. I already unpacked that one.” Your foot connected with the flattened cardboard, sending it sliding across the tile until it thumped against the wall. "I've checked every kitchen box we brought in."
Jake pushed himself up and made his way over. The scent of cardboard dust clung to him, mixed with the cologne he saved for occasions he deemed important. Apparently moving qualified. He bent over the counter, peering into the box you'd been rifling through. "Could they still be out in the car?"
“I brought everything in already.”
“ What about the bedroom?”
“Why would I put mugs in the bedroom?”
Both his hands came up in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just throwing out ideas. You're the one who did the packing."
That was true. The memory came back sharp and clear. You'd wrapped every single mug in newspaper, arranged them with care in a box you'd marked FRAGILE – MUGS with a red Sharpie. You'd insisted on carrying it in yourself since Jake and the neighbor had been wrestling the couch through the doorway, and you didn’t trust anyone else with your favorite mug from the café in Seoul.
“This is so weird.” You turned in a slow circle like the mugs might materialize if you looked hard enough. The kitchen was small and bright. Sunlight poured through the window above the sink, bathing the compact kitchen in warm light that made everything seem pristine and hopeful. This was meant to be your new beginning. "Things keep disappearing. My phone charger went missing yesterday. The day before that, my toothbrush."
“You found your toothbrush.”
“In the bathroom closet. I never put it there.”
Jake opened the cabinet above the stove, examining the interior despite knowing it held nothing but the shelf liner you'd spent time measuring and cutting the previous day. "Could be you're just exhausted. Three solid days of unpacking will do that."
“I’m not tired.”
“You’re definitely tired.”
Part of you wanted to push back, but your spine throbbed from hunching over countless boxes and your fingertips stung with tiny cuts from wrestling with packing tape. The realtor had sold you on this house by emphasizing how much easier it would be compared to the cramped apartment. Look at all this room, Jake had said during the tour, we could actually entertain guests. The bay window had charmed you, along with the east-facing bedroom that would flood with morning light. Right now though, you just wanted those damn mugs.
“Who’s moving my stuff?” you said. It came out lighter than you meant.
Jake's mouth quirked up as he pressed a kiss to your temple. "Must be the house ghost."
"That's not funny."
"They'll show up eventually." He returned to the living room, dropping back down beside his book collection. His voice drifted through the open floor plan. "Try the bathroom. Maybe you stuck them in there without thinking
You were certain you hadn't, but you went to look anyway since you'd exhausted other options. The small bathroom still reeked of the bleach you'd used to scrub every surface two days prior. A crack spider-webbed across one corner of the mirror, something the landlord had sworn he'd repair. You crouched down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.
There they sat. All six mugs, stacked with precision, with your Seoul café mug rested on top.
You stared at them for a long time. There was absolutely no way you had placed them here.
“Any luck?” Jake called from the living room.
You closed the cabinet door and straightened up. Your knees cracked. “Yeah. They were under the sink.”
“See? Told you they’d turn up.”
You didn’t mention that you’d never looked under the sink. You wouldn’t have put mugs there even if you were unpacking at three in the morning with your eyes closed. Jake was already back to organizing his books by author, and you didn’t want to stand in the bathroom doorway and argue about something that didn’t matter.
The hours that followed melted into one another. You tackled the bedroom while power tool sounds and muttered curses floated up from where Jake wrestled with bookshelf assembly instructions. Eventually you both converged on the closet, bickering over the distribution of space between his sneaker collection and your dresses. He secured victory by highlighting how you'd already claimed the entire dresser. You had to admit he had a point.
By the time sunset arrived, the house had transformed into something almost livable. Boxes still created obstacles along the hallway and packing paper buried the kitchen table, but at least you could navigate most rooms without tripping. Progress, you supposed.
Jake called in an order from the Thai restaurant a few blocks away. The two of you sat cross-legged on the living room floor since unfolded laundry had claimed the couch. He kept cracking jokes about breaking in the new place properly, and you managed to laugh despite feeling like you were wading through deep, deep water.
The wedding had been five weeks ago. You'd opted for a simple courthouse ceremony to avoid the chaos of event planning. Afterward came two weeks wandering through Japan, walking until blisters formed on your feet, staying awake far past any reasonable hour, and making hollow promises about catching up on sleep during the flight home.
You hadn’t. Jake had fallen asleep with his head on your shoulder and you’d spent seven hours staring at the seatback screen without watching anything.
Upon returning, you'd immediately begun shoving your lives into cardboard boxes since this house's lease kicked in on the first and paying double rent wasn't an option. Two solid weeks of packing and hauling everything into a borrowed truck from some coworker of Jake's whose name you couldn't remember.
The drive here yesterday had eaten up six hours. Jake had offered to take turns behind the wheel but you'd insisted you could handle it. That had been a lie. Your fingers had locked around the steering wheel in a death grip and your eyes had stung from the endless stretch of highway.
Now you sat on unfamiliar floorboards in a house that didn't feel like yours yet, every muscle in your body demanding rest. Jake's voice washed over you as he talked about work or maybe friends or something else entirely. You managed to nod at appropriate intervals, tried to anchor yourself to what he was saying, but his words kept dissolving before you could grasp them.
"You okay?" His question cut through the fog. When you looked up, concern had softened his features.
“Just tired.”
“You should take a break tomorrow. I can finish unpacking.”
“We’re almost done.”
“Baby. You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Collapse seemed dramatic. You were simply running on empty. Perfectly normal after a move. Things would improve once you actually settled in, once you weren't surrounded by half-empty boxes and packing tape.
Jake gathered the dishes and headed to the kitchen. Water started running in the sink. You remained on the floor, gaze fixed on the wall. The realtor had described this soft cream shade as warm and inviting. Right now it just seemed blank and expressionless.
You should get up and be useful, help with the dishes or finish unpacking the bathroom.
Instead you pulled yourself up and told Jake you were going to take a shower. He said something about joining you later and you made a noncommittal sound that could’ve meant anything.
The water pressure here beat the apartment's pathetic dribble. Small victory. You tipped your head back, letting heat seep into your knotted shoulders. Steam had already saturated the bathroom, condensing on every surface and shrinking the space.
You worked your fingers through your hair and felt the tension start to drain out. Three days of hauling boxes and arguing about where the couch should go. Jake had won again. It faced the window now instead of the TV.
The shower curtain moved.
Not much, just a quick pull to the side like someone was peeking in.
“Jake.” You kept your eyes closed. Shampoo suds slid down your neck. “You’re such a pervert.”
No answer.
“I’m literally covered in soap. Can you wait like five minutes?”
Only the steady percussion of water against porcelain answered you. You scrubbed at your stinging eyes with the back of one hand, blinking away the burn. The curtain now hung partially open. Beyond it, the bathroom stood empty.
No Jake leaning against the sink with that stupid grin he got when he was trying to be smooth. No shadow moving past the frosted window. There was only steam and the towel hanging on the rack and the crack in the mirror you kept forgetting about until you saw it.
“Jake?”
The sound of your own voice startled you with its volume. Water drummed against your shoulders and ran down the drain in a steady rush. You reached out and pushed the curtain open further. It scraped along the rod with a metallic sound that made your teeth hurt.
The door was still closed. You would’ve heard it open. The hinges squeaked every time. You’d mentioned it to Jake yesterday and he’d said he’d oil them this weekend.
You twisted the faucet off. Silence rushed in to fill the void. The house exhaled around you with creaks and groans. Ancient wood adjusting. Pipes losing their heat. Somewhere beneath the floor, the heater kicked on with a mechanical click.
Water dripped from your hair onto the bathmat as you stood frozen, staring at that closed door. Each heartbeat thundered in your ears.
“Jake?” you said again.
Nothing.
You secured the towel around yourself and eased the bathroom door open. Darkness swallowed the hallway except for a strip of light bleeding from the bedroom down at the far end. Your feet left damp impressions on the hardwood as you walked.
Jake was in bed with his phone. He looked up when you came in. “Hey. Feel better?”
“Were you just in the bathroom?”
“What?” He set his phone on the nightstand. “No. Why?”
“The shower curtain moved.”
“It’s an old house. Probably just a draft.”
“The door was closed.”
Jake patted the bed beside him. “Come here. You’re shivering.”
You weren’t shivering. Were you? The room felt colder than it should. You climbed into bed and pulled the towel tighter around you. Jake wrapped an arm around you and you pressed your face against his shoulder. He smelled like the laundry detergent his mom always used. It was supposed to be comforting.
“I think someone opened the curtain,” you said into his shirt.
“Like a person?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
His hand moved in slow circles on your back. “Baby. There’s no one here but us.”
You fell silent. Somewhere below, the house groaned like something heavy was being dragged across the floor. Jake's expression didn't change. Perhaps the sound never reached him. You let your eyes drift shut, trying to match the rhythm of his breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Steady and constant.
His hand moved lower on your back, slipping under the edge of the towel. “You’re so tense.”
“I’m fine.”
"You're really not." Something shifted in his voice, dropping into that particular tone he used when he had intentions. "Let me help you relax."
Your eyes opened to find him watching you with that half-smile that typically got him what he wanted. His hand traveled up your spine before tracing back down with deliberate slowness.
“Jake.”
“What? I’m being a good husband.” His mouth found your shoulder, then migrated to your collarbone. His fingers found the knot holding your towel closed. “You’ve been stressed all week. Let Daddy take care of you.”
You didn't protest when he worked the towel free. The fabric slipped away and gathered on the sheets beneath you. Cold air met your exposed skin. Jake's hands offered warmth. His kisses traveled down your sternum, across your stomach, and despite everything gnawing at your mind, you felt yourself beginning to surrender.
He pushed your legs apart and settled between them. Heat from his breath ghosted across your inner thigh. “Just relax.”
You let your head fall back against the pillow, and tried to focus on the feeling of his mouth instead of the sound the house had made and the shower curtain moving on its own. For a moment, it worked. His tongue traced a slow path along your folds and you gasped, your fingers threading into his hair.
The bedroom door creaked open.
Every muscle in your body locked. Jake's grip on your hips intensified but his mouth didn't stop its work.
“Jake.”
“Mm?”
“The door.”
He lifted his head. Moisture glistened on his lips. “What about it?”
“It just opened.”
Jake threw a glance over his shoulder. The door now stood halfway open, hallway darkness spilling through the gap. When he looked back at you, his features had rearranged themselves into something gentler, laden with concern. "Baby. The door wasn't latched properly. It does that."
“I closed it.”
“You didn’t close it all the way.” He shifted to sit beside you, drawing the blanket over your legs like you required modesty now. "This is exactly what I mean. You're too stressed. You're seeing things that aren't there."
“I’m not seeing things.”
“The curtain moved because of a draft. The door opened because old houses do that. There’s nothing weird happening.” His palm cradled your face while his thumb swept across your cheekbone. “I’m worried about you.”
Your throat felt tight. “I’m fine.”
"You're not sleeping properly. You picked at dinner. And now every little sound makes you jump." He pressed his lips to your forehead in a gesture that felt more appropriate for a child than a wife. "Maybe we should find you a doctor here. Someone you can talk to."
“I don’t need a doctor.”
“There’s nothing wrong with needing help. Especially after everything we’ve been through lately. The wedding and the move and all of it piling up. It’s a lot to process.”
You wanted to argue, to tell him that you weren’t imagining things. Something was wrong with this house and he needed to believe you.
But he was looking at you like you were fragile and might break if he pushed too hard.
You pulled the blanket up higher and turned onto your side away from him. “I’m just tired.”
“I know.” His arm came around your bare waist, pulling you flush against his clothed body. Normally, you might have ground back against time, tried to reignite what he’d started. Tonight you just want to sleep. “Get some sleep. Things will look better in the morning.”
They wouldn’t. You already knew that with absolute certainty. You closed your eyes anyway and listened to Jake’s breathing gradually evened out behind you.
The door remained open. Darkness from the hallway seemed to press into the room like something physical. You could feel eyes on you from that space beyond, watching and waiting. Jake's arm lay heavy across your ribs. Moving would wake him. So you remained motionless, gaze fixed on the wall, counting down the hours until dawn
────୨ৎ────
The whole reason you moved here was to escape the old one, full of unfriendly neighbors and people who filed noise complaints over the smallest things. Someone had once left a passive aggressive note on your door about your footsteps being too loud at seven in the morning. Jake had wanted to frame it.
You’d heard this neighborhood was friendlier, more community-oriented. The realtor had gone on about block parties and how everyone knew each other’s names.
Instead, the people on your street kept staring and whispering.
This morning, the woman two houses down had been collecting her mail when you reversed out of the driveway. Her gaze had followed your car all the way to the stop sign. You'd lifted your hand in a friendly wave. She'd pivoted and disappeared inside without so much as a nod.
Yesterday, the older couple across the street had been deep in conversation on their driveway when you'd emerged to water the housewarming plants from Jake's mother. Their voices had died the moment they spotted you. You'd felt their eyes boring into your spine the entire time.
According to Jake, you were making it up. New neighbors always attracted attention. It was normal curiosity and you were reading too much into it.
Perhaps he had a point. Jake had always been oblivious to social undercurrents. He could enter a room crackling with tension and remain completely unaware until someone spelled it out for him.
You pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. The new curtains sat in the passenger seat in their plastic bag from the home goods store. You’d spent an hour debating between ivory and cream before settling on something called vanilla linen that looked identical to both.
The old curtains had been too dark. That’s what you’d told Jake this morning when he asked why you needed new ones. They made the living room feel smaller. He’d shrugged and said whatever made you happy.
Bag in hand, you stepped out of the car. Daylight softened the house's edges, made it seem less threatening. The blue-gray paint looked almost charming, and the porch had decent structure despite the wobbly railing Jake kept promising to secure this weekend.
The front door was unlocked. It swung open easily under pressure from your hip, and you sealed it shut with your heel.
“Jake?”
Silence answered. Still at work, probably. You'd gotten lost browsing the store and hadn't tracked the time.
Sunlight poured through the bare living room windows, carving geometric patterns across the hardwood. The boxes had finally disappeared. You'd spent yesterday afternoon breaking them down and hauling them to the garage. The space was starting to resemble an actual home now.
You set the curtain bag on the couch and went to the kitchen for scissors. The drawer stuck like it always did. You had to yank it twice before it opened.
Movement flickered at the corner of your eye.
You spun around. The kitchen was empty. There were dishes drying in the rack by the sink and a coffee maker on the counter. Nothing was out of place.
Scissors acquired, you returned to the living room. Plastic crackled as you ripped the bag open. Vanilla linen fabric tumbled onto the couch in soft folds that were absolutely just overpriced ivory.
The curtain rod remained mounted from the previous set. You'd stripped those down last night, shoving them into a trash bag because the sight of them had started constricting your chest. Jake had checked if you were alright. You'd claimed you simply wanted something lighter and brighter.
What you didn't mention was the persistent image of the shower curtain moving by itself.Heavy fabric didn’t just shift without someone touching it.
You hoisted yourself onto the couch's arm and stretched toward the rod. Your fingers had barely made contact with the cool metal when sound filtered down from above.
Footsteps upstairs, slow and deliberate, moving from the bedroom toward the hallway.
You froze with your arms above your head and the curtain rod pressing into your palms. The footsteps stopped before they started again, closer to the stairs now.
“Jake?” The question emerged barely above a whisper.
The footsteps reached the top of the stairs. You could hear the floorboards creaking under invisible weight. One step. Then another.
You scrambled down from the couch, hands trembling. The scissors still lay on the coffee table. You snatched them up reflexively, brandishing them like some kind of weapon even though you knew how useless they'd be.
The footsteps stopped halfway down the stairs. Your eyes locked on the staircase, on the space where a body should be visible. The house had gone so silent that your own pulse thundered in your ears.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
The scissors had gone slick in your sweating palm, the metal handles warming against your skin. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you strained to hear any other sounds from above, but the house had fallen into an oppressive silence that felt almost deliberate, like it was holding its breath and waiting to see what you'd do next.
The front door swung open behind you with enough force to make you jump.
You whirled around, nearly dropping the scissors in the process. Jake filled the doorway, work bag draped over one shoulder and his tie loosened from a long day at the office. His attention landed on you first, taking in your defensive stance and wide eyes, then traveled down to the scissors clutched in your white-knuckled fist. His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in a mixture of confusion and concern.
“Uh. What are you doing?“
"There was someone upstairs." The words tumbled out in a rush, breathless and shaky.
Jake nudged the door shut with his heel, the lock clicking into place with a soft sound that seemed too loud in the quiet house. "What?"
"I heard footsteps. They were coming down the stairs." You stared at the scissors like they'd materialized in your hand through no action of your own, like you couldn't quite remember picking them up or why you'd thought they might protect you from whatever had been walking through your house. You set them carefully on the coffee table, your hands still trembling. "Someone was in the house. I heard them moving around up there."
Jake abandoned his bag by the entrance and crossed the room in quick strides. His hand came up to press against your forehead, palm flat and assessing like he was checking a child for illness. The touch was gentle but clinical, and something about that detached concern made your stomach twist. "You're burning up."
"I'm not sick." You tried to step back but his hand followed, persistent.
"Did you eat lunch? When was the last time you had water?" The questions came rapid-fire, each one dismissing what you'd just told him in favor of finding some mundane explanation.
“Yes. Jake. I’m fine. I know what I heard.”
His hand shifted to cradle your cheek, his thumb brushing across your cheekbone in what was probably meant to be a soothing gesture. That expression had returned, the one from last night where he looked at you like you were made of porcelain that might crack under too firm a grip, like you were a problem he needed to solve rather than a person he needed to believe. "Baby."
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
"Look at me like I'm losing my mind." The words came out sharper than you intended, edged with frustration and fear and exhaustion all tangled together.
His hand fell away as he dragged it through his hair instead, disheveling the strands that had already been mussed from the wind outside. The breath he released sounded carefully measured, like he was actively working to maintain patience in the face of what he clearly thought was irrational behavior. "I'm not saying you're losing your mind. I'm saying you're running on empty and stressed to your limit and maybe that's affecting your perception. You haven't been sleeping well. You've barely been eating. Your body is exhausted."
"I heard footsteps." You repeated it like if you said it enough times he might actually hear you, might actually consider that you were telling the truth.
"Old houses are noisy. The wood expands and contracts with temperature changes throughout the day. Pipes settle as they cool down. Floorboards creak under their own weight." He was using his reasonable voice now, the one he used when explaining things to clients at work. "It can sound exactly like footsteps when it's not. I've heard it too since we moved in."
Heat crept up your throat and into your face. "You weren't here. You didn't experience what I just experienced. You didn't hear them stop halfway down the stairs like someone was standing there watching me."
"Okay." The word came out gentle and placating in a way that made you want to scream. "Okay. If it makes you feel better I'll go check upstairs. I'll look in every room and make sure no one's here."
“Thank you.”
He pressed his lips to your forehead in a kiss that felt more like reassurance for himself than comfort for you before heading for the staircase. You tracked the sound of him taking the steps two at a time, his footsteps heavy and grounded and completely different from the measured, deliberate tread you'd heard earlier. His presence moved through the house above you, traversing the bedroom first, then migrating to the spare room where you'd been storing boxes, then finally the bathroom. Doors swung open with their familiar squeaks and thumped shut in succession, and each sound felt like another nail in the coffin of your credibility.
You retrieved his abandoned work bag from its spot by the door, the strap still warm from his shoulder, and carried it to the kitchen to give your hands something to do besides shake. Setting it on the counter with more care than necessary, you began extracting its contents one item at a time. An empty tupperware container that had held his lunch, the lid slightly ajar and a few grains of rice stuck to the rim. A water bottle with dried residue crusting around the threading that desperately needed a thorough scrubbing. Some crumpled papers he'd probably need for tomorrow that were already getting bent at the bottom of the bag.
You pulled open the cabinet to store the water bottle, and that pervasive mildew smell hit you immediately, musty and organic and wrong. Mental note: pick up baking soda or whatever product actually eliminated that kind of persistent odor, maybe some of those moisture absorber packets you'd seen at the hardware store.
Someone materialized behind you without warning. Arms encircled your waist in an embrace that felt startlingly intimate, sliding around you with a familiarity that should have been comforting. A head came to rest against your shoulder blade, the weight of it solid and grounding. The full presence of another person pressing into your back, their body heat seeping through the thin fabric of your shirt.
You melted into the contact without thinking, your muscles loosening as you allowed yourself to be supported by what you assumed was your husband. Jake must have finished his inspection upstairs and come down quietly to surprise you, to offer comfort after dismissing your fears. "Long day at work?"
No verbal response came. Just the steady rhythm of breathing against your spine, warm exhales that you could feel through your clothes. The arms surrounding you felt undeniably solid and present, more real than anything else in this moment. You registered the rise and fall of a chest expanding and contracting against your back with each breath, the subtle shift of fabric, the particular pressure of hands resting just below your ribcage.
You glanced down expecting to see Jake's familiar hands, maybe still wearing his watch, maybe with the small scar on his left thumb from that cooking accident last year.
There was nothing there.
No arms around your waist. No hands resting against your stomach. Only empty space and the counter stretching before you and your own solitary body standing alone in the kitchen with nothing touching you at all.
The presence evaporated. Not gradually but instantaneously, like someone had released their hold and retreated in a single motion, leaving behind only the fading impression of where they'd been. The warmth against your back disappeared so quickly you wondered if you'd imagined it, except you could still feel the ghost of those arms, the memory of that weight.
You lurched forward involuntarily, your body trying to catch itself from falling into an embrace that was no longer there. Your hip collided with the counter edge with enough force to send a sharp spike of pain radiating through your pelvis, the kind that would definitely leave a bruise by tomorrow. The water bottle escaped your grip and went clattering into the sink basin with a hollow plastic sound that seemed far too loud.
“Everything’s clear up there.” Jake’s voice came from the stairs, slightly winded from his search. “No one’s home but us.”
You remained frozen where you stood, unable to pivot and face him, unable to explain what had just happened. Your fingers had locked onto the counter edge hard enough to drain all color from your knuckles, the pressure the only thing keeping you upright. Your breath came in short, shallow gasps that you couldn't quite control, and somewhere in the back of your mind you registered that you were probably having a panic attack but that knowledge did nothing to stop it.
Jake walked into the kitchen, his presence announced by the familiar sound of his work shoes against the hardwood. Real footsteps, heavy and grounded and unmistakably human, each one landing with the full weight of a living person moving through space.
"See? Nothing to worry about." His hand touched your shoulder in what was meant to be a comforting gesture and you flinched so violently you nearly sent the dish rack crashing to the floor. The dishes rattled precariously in their slots before settling. "Whoa. Hey. It's just me."
You managed to turn around despite your body's resistance to the movement. Jake stood there with both hands raised in a gesture of surrender, palms out like he was approaching a frightened animal that might bolt at any sudden movement. His expression had shifted from patient understanding to something rawer, genuine worry creasing his forehead and pulling at the corners of his mouth.
“What happened?”
"I felt someone." Your voice emerged trembling and unsteady, each word requiring conscious effort to form. "Right now. Just seconds ago. Someone was standing behind me exactly where you are. They had their arms around me. I felt their weight against my back, felt them breathing."
“I was upstairs. No one else is here.”
“I know. I thought it was you. I felt them, Jake. It wasn't my imagination. Their arms were solid and real and they were holding me.”
Jake closed the distance between you and pulled you firmly against his chest, eliminating any space that might exist between your bodies. His heart beat steady and strong under your ear, that reliable rhythm you'd memorized over the years together. His arms came around you and they felt fundamentally different from whatever had been holding you mere moments ago. Warmer, more substantial, anchored in reality in a way that the other presence hadn't been despite feeling so convincing.
“You’re okay,” he said into your hair. “You’re okay. Nothing’s going to hurt you.”
Your breathing wouldn't cooperate, wouldn't fall into any normal pattern. It kept catching in your throat like you'd forgotten the basic mechanics of drawing air into your lungs, each attempt stuttering and incomplete.
"Hey." His voice underwent a transformation, dropping into that lower register he reserved for specific moments, the tone he used when you needed grounding, when your mind was spiraling and your body needed an anchor. "Look at me."
You tilted your head back with effort, forcing your gaze upward. His eyes had gone serious and focused, all his attention concentrated entirely on you with an intensity that left no room for anything else in his awareness.
"Breathe with me. In." He demonstrated with a slow, deliberate inhale and you attempted to mirror the movement, your lungs expanding with air that felt inadequate. "Out."
Your exhale emerged shaky and uneven but you managed it, the air leaving your body in fits and starts.
"Good girl. Again." In. Out. His hand traveled up and down the length of your spine in time with the breathing, the repetitive motion creating a rhythm your body could follow. The simple physical pattern gave you something concrete to focus on beyond the panic.
"That's it. Just like that." His thumb traced along your jawline with deliberate gentleness. "Let Daddy take care of you. You don't have to think right now. You don't have to figure anything out or make sense of what happened. Just breathe."
Something in your chest began to loosen its grip. Not completely, not enough to make you feel normal again, but enough that air could flow in without the sharp pain that had been accompanying each breath.
"There you go." He kissed your forehead before moving on to pepper gentle kisses across your face, each one a small point of warmth and reassurance. Your temples, your cheekbones, the bridge of your nose, your closed eyelids. "Shhh. I've got you. You're safe here with me."
You allowed yourself to go completely boneless against him, surrendering your weight and trusting him to hold you upright. His hand cupped the back of your head with protective care and kept you pressed securely against his shoulder, creating a small pocket of safety in the space between your bodies.
“We’re okay,” he murmured. “Everything’s okay. You’re safe with me.”
You wanted desperately to tell him that safety wasn't actually the problem, that something was fundamentally wrong with this house and he needed to listen to you instead of trying to rationalize everything away. But your body was finally beginning to release the tension it had been holding, your muscles gradually unclenching one by one, and your thoughts were developing fuzzy edges that made forming coherent arguments feel impossible. You were so profoundly tired of being scared, exhausted from the constant vigilance and the way fear had taken up permanent residence in your chest.
Jake rocked you slightly. “What do you need right now, hm? You want to sit down? Get some water?”
You shook your head against his chest, the fabric of his work shirt soft against your cheek.
"Okay. Then we're just going to stand here for as long as you need." His hand maintained its gentle movement through your hair, the repetitive strokes soothing in their predictability. "Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stand here all night if that's what you need."
You couldn't detect the presence anymore, couldn't sense anything beyond the immediate reality of Jake's arms creating a solid barrier between you and whatever else might exist in this space. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your ear. The warmth radiating from his body and seeping into yours. These tangible, provable things.
Maybe he was right. Maybe you genuinely needed to see a doctor and get something to help you sleep, to quiet your mind enough that it stopped creating experiences that felt real but couldn't possibly be. Maybe the exhaustion and stress had damaged something in your perception of reality.
Or maybe something was very, genuinely wrong with this house and you were the only one whose senses were attuned enough to detect it, the only one it had chosen to reveal itself to for reasons you couldn't begin to understand.
Jake had convinced you to lie down after the episode in the kitchen. He'd guided you upstairs with a hand on your lower back and tucked you into bed with the kind of careful attention usually reserved for someone running a fever, pulling the blankets up to your chin and smoothing them down with excessive care. He'd promised to finish unpacking his work things and dealing with the curtains, assured you that everything would be handled and you just needed to rest. You'd closed your eyes obediently and listened to him moving around downstairs, the familiar sounds of cabinets opening and closing, of objects being set down and picked up, all while trying desperately not to think about the weight of those phantom arms that had felt so impossibly real.
Sleep refused to come despite your body's exhaustion. You'd lain there staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, watching the way shadows moved across the plaster as clouds passed outside, counting the small imperfections in the paint job, anything to occupy your mind. Finally you'd given up on the pretense of rest.
You needed air. Real air, outside air, something that didn't taste like this house.
Now you were walking down the street with your hands buried deep in your jacket pockets and your breath forming small clouds that dissolved in the evening air. The temperature had dropped noticeably since you'd left the house, enough that you wished you'd grabbed a heavier coat. Everything looked softer in the fading light, edges blurred and colors muted as the sun continued its descent toward the horizon. The whole neighborhood seemed wrapped in that particular quiet that came with approaching dusk, when people retreated indoors and the day began its transition into night.
You passed three houses before encountering another person, your footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness. A woman roughly your age was approaching from the opposite direction with a little girl who couldn't have been more than six years old trailing slightly behind her. The child wore light-up sneakers that flashed brilliant pink with every bouncing step she took, the only spot of brightness in the growing dimness.
The woman's eyes landed on you when you were still about twenty feet apart. Something shifted in her expression, transforming from neutral to something you couldn't quite identify but that sent an uncomfortable prickle down your spine. Without breaking stride, she reached out and took her daughter's hand with sudden firmness, then began angling toward the opposite side of the street, her trajectory deliberately taking them away from you.
The little girl immediately pulled against her mother's grip, her small face scrunching with confusion and resistance. "Mommy, I want to say hi."
"Not now." The woman's response was clipped and final.
"But they're new. We're supposed to be nice to new people." The girl's voice carried that particular brand of childish logic that hadn't yet learned about unspoken social rules. She managed to free one hand long enough to offer you an enthusiastic wave. "Hi!"
You lifted your own hand automatically to return the greeting, a reflexive response to the innocent friendliness.
The woman immediately yanked her daughter's arm down with enough force to make the girl stumble slightly. "Stop it. Don't talk to them."
"Why not?" The question emerged with genuine bewilderment, the kind only a child could muster when confronted with arbitrary adult rules.
"Because." The woman's voice dropped lower, probably attempting discretion, but the evening quiet carried her words across the distance with perfect clarity. She wasn't really trying very hard to keep you from hearing. "They're from the bad house."
"What's a bad house?" The girl's confusion deepened, her small voice rising with the question.
"Shh." The woman accelerated her pace, practically dragging her daughter along now. The child had to break into an awkward half-jog to keep up, her light-up shoes flashing pink in rapid succession as they hurried away from you like you were carrying some contagious disease.
You remained frozen on the sidewalk, rooted to the concrete as you watched them disappear around the corner at the end of the block. Your heart had begun hammering against your ribs with unnecessary force, adrenaline flooding your system even though nothing overtly threatening had occurred. The street felt dramatically emptier than it had just moments ago, the absence of their presence somehow more pronounced than the quiet had been before they'd appeared.
The bad house.
Those two words kept circling in your mind, each repetition adding new weight to them. You turned slowly and looked back toward your house, studying it from this new perspective. It sat there among its neighbors looking fundamentally identical to every other structure on the block. Nothing about it screamed warnings or danger. Nothing about it appeared visibly different from the houses on either side or across the street.
But that woman had physically pulled her daughter across the street to avoid you, had forbidden the child from even speaking to you, all because you lived there. Like whatever was wrong with the house was something that could contaminate you just by proximity.
You started walking back, your feet moving faster than the situation warranted, propelled by some instinct you couldn't name. The sun had almost completely disappeared now, leaving behind only that purple-gray twilight that made familiar things look strange. Shadows stretched impossibly long across front lawns and driveways, distorting the shapes of trees and cars into something vaguely menacing. You kept your eyes fixed on your house as you approached, tried not to let your mind spiral into speculation about what "the bad house" might actually mean, what might have happened there before you and Jake had signed the lease.
Jake's car still occupied its spot in the driveway, exactly where he'd left it when he'd come home from work. Warm light glowed through the living room windows, golden and inviting in the gathering darkness. You could make out his silhouette moving around inside, probably still dealing with those curtains or maybe starting to think about dinner.
You climbed the porch steps carefully, muscle memory guiding you even as your mind remained elsewhere. The third step released its familiar creak under your weight, the sound seeming far too loud in the evening quiet, like an announcement of your arrival that anyone within a hundred feet could hear. You pushed open the front door and stepped gratefully into the warmth, the temperature difference immediately making your cold-stung cheeks tingle.
Jake had indeed returned to hanging the new curtains. He'd repositioned the couch so he could use it as a makeshift ladder and was currently balanced on the cushions, arms extended overhead as he worked to slide the vanilla linen fabric onto the rod. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the door, offering you a quick smile. "Hey. Feel better?"
“A neighbor just called this the bad house.”
His hands went still on the curtain, the fabric bunching slightly where his fingers had stopped moving. "What?"
"I was walking and this woman with her kid deliberately crossed the street to avoid me. The kid asked why they couldn't say hello, and the mother said because we're from the bad house." You closed the door behind you and engaged the lock with more force than necessary, the metallic click somehow reassuring. Your hands were trembling visibly now. "What does that mean? Why would she say that?"
Jake stepped down from the couch with careful deliberation, his work shoes landing softly on the hardwood. "Maybe she's just weird. Some people are like that. You know how neighborhoods can be."
“She pulled her daughter away from me like I was dangerous.”
"Okay. So she's rude and weird and probably watches too many true crime documentaries." He crossed the space between you and took both your hands in his, his warmth immediately noticeable against your chilled skin. He began rubbing your hands between his palms, trying to restore circulation. "You're freezing. How long were you outside?"
“Jake. This is serious.” You tried to pull your hands back but he held on.
"I know it feels serious. But people say weird stuff all the time, especially in small neighborhoods where everyone thinks they know everyone's business. It doesn't necessarily mean anything." He tugged gently, trying to guide you toward the couch. "Come on. Let's finish these curtains and then we can figure out dinner. You'll feel better once you eat something substantial."
You let him lead you closer to the couch but resisted actually sitting down, your body remaining tense and resistant. "What if something's genuinely wrong with this house? What if there's a reason she called it that?"
“Nothing’s wrong with the house.”
"Then why would she say that? Why would an entire neighborhood apparently know it as 'the bad house'?" Your voice was climbing despite your efforts to keep it level.
“I don’t know. Maybe the last people who lived here were assholes. Maybe they played loud music at three in the morning and everyone hated them.” He released your hands to pick up the curtain again, clearly ready to move past this conversation. “It has nothing to do with us.”
You watched him climb back onto the couch with practiced ease, threading the fabric onto the rod like everything was perfectly normal and you hadn't just been deliberately avoided by a stranger who thought your house was dangerous enough to warn her child about. The living room seemed to shrink as the curtains went up, the fabric blocking out what little remained of the evening light. You couldn't see outside anymore, couldn't monitor the street or know if anyone else was out there looking at your house and whispering about the people foolish enough to move in.
Jake stepped down from the couch and moved back to assess his handiwork, his head tilting as he examined the way the fabric hung. "There. What do you think? Much better than those heavy dark ones, right?"
You thought the room felt like it was actively closing in around you, the walls pressing closer with each breath. You thought about how badly you wanted to pack everything back into boxes and leave this place immediately, drive until you found somewhere that didn't make your skin crawl, somewhere that neighbors didn't warn their children away from.
“It looks good,” you said.
────୨ৎ────
You were still trying to catch your breath when you saw it.
Jake had collapsed beside you moments ago, one arm flung dramatically over his face in that particular way he always did after sex, like the effort had completely drained him. His chest continued rising and falling in heavy, labored pulls of oxygen. The sheets had become hopelessly twisted around both your bodies during the preceding activity, the fabric now clinging uncomfortably to your sweat-dampened skin.
Your body was still humming with residual pleasure, nerve endings firing in that pleasant way that usually left you feeling boneless and satisfied. You should have felt good right now, relaxed and content in that post-orgasm haze. Instead your heart was racing for an entirely different reason, adrenaline flooding your system and wiping away any trace of the satisfaction you'd felt seconds ago.
There had been someone in the closet.
You'd seen them. The memory was crystalline and undeniable, seared into your brain with the kind of clarity that only came from genuine fear. It had happened right at the end, at that precise moment when your eyes had rolled back and Jake's name had torn from your throat in a cry you couldn't have suppressed if you'd tried. The closet door had been cracked open just enough, and in that sliver of darkness there had been a face. Watching. Present. Real.
You'd made direct eye contact. You were absolutely certain of it. Brown eyes that had locked onto yours with unmistakable awareness, staring directly at you while Jake moved inside you and you came apart underneath him, while you were at your most vulnerable and exposed.
"Jake." Your voice came out rougher than intended, still affected by how you'd been using it moments before.
"Mm." The sound was drowsy and satisfied, already halfway to sleep. His hand found yours somewhere in the tangle of sheets and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“There’s someone in the closet.”
His hand went still. “What?”
“I saw someone in the closet. They were watching us.”
Jake lifted his arm from his face with visible reluctance and turned his head on the pillow to look at you directly. His hair stuck up in complete disarray, standing at odd angles from where you'd run your fingers through it. "Babe."
“I’m serious. There was someone there. I looked right at them. We made eye contact.”
He sat up with a heavy sigh, the sheet pooling around his waist and exposing his bare chest still marked with faint scratches from your nails. "You saw someone. While we were having sex."
"Yes. Please. You need to check right now." You pulled the sheet higher, suddenly feeling exposed in a way that had nothing to do with nudity.
Jake dragged both hands down his face, pulling at his features before releasing a long, controlled breath through his nose that spoke volumes about his patience wearing thin. Then he extracted himself from the bed completely and crossed the room without bothering to cover himself, his naked body moving through the lamplight. He grabbed the closet door handle and yanked it open with more force than strictly necessary, the door swinging wide to reveal the interior.
Your clothes hung in their neat, organized row exactly where you'd left them. His shoes were lined up along the bottom in the careful arrangement he always insisted on. Boxes that you'd been procrastinating about unpacking sat stacked in the corner, still sealed with packing tape.
"There's no one here." He gestured at the empty closet like it was evidence in a trial.
“Check behind the boxes.”
He released another one of those long-suffering sighs before bending to grab the boxes. He moved them aside one by one, shifting them away from the corner they'd been occupying. Nothing lurked behind them except bare wall, the paint slightly darker where it had been protected from light exposure. He straightened and turned back to face you with both hands spread in an "I told you so" gesture. "See? Empty. No one here but us."
Something fluttered down from the top shelf like a falling leaf, a photograph. It descended in a lazy spiral before landing face-up on the floor directly between Jake's bare feet, the timing so perfect it felt orchestrated.
He looked down at it for a moment before bending to retrieve it from the hardwood. You instinctively pulled the sheet up higher over your chest, suddenly feeling the need for more coverage, and leaned forward with anxious curiosity to see what he'd found.
It was a photograph of a man. Young, probably late twenties at most. Dark hair that looked carefully styled, and a smile that revealed too many teeth in a way that should have been charming but somehow wasn't. He stood positioned in front of a house that you recognized immediately with a sinking sensation in your stomach. Your house. Except in this photo, the blue-gray paint looked pristine and freshly applied, and the porch railing stood straight and sturdy instead of loose and requiring Jake's promised repairs.
Jake held it out to you. “Must’ve been left by whoever lived here before.”
You accepted it with hands that had begun shaking again, your fingers trembling as they made contact with the aged paper. The photograph was clearly old, its edges yellowed and gone soft from excessive handling over the years. You found yourself staring at the man's face with growing horror, at those brown eyes that looked directly at the camera lens with unnerving focus.
“That’s him.”
“What?”
"That's who was in the closet. That's the exact face I saw watching us." Your voice began climbing higher with each word, panic making it difficult to control your volume. You could hear yourself getting louder, more frantic, but stopping seemed impossible. "Jake. That's him. I saw him. Those eyes. That face. He was watching us have sex."
"You saw a picture fall out of the closet." Jake's tone had gone flat and carefully neutral, the voice he used when he was trying very hard to remain patient.
"No. I saw him before the picture fell. He was looking at me." The words came out in a rush, desperate and pleading. "His eyes were at a different angle than in this photo but it's the same face. The exact same face. Jake. I'm so scared."
Jake lowered himself onto the edge of the bed with deliberate slowness, the mattress dipping under his weight. He reached over and carefully extracted the photograph from your trembling fingers, then set it face down on the nightstand like even having it visible in his peripheral vision was too much. Like he could make the problem disappear by simply not looking at it. Then he pulled you firmly against his bare chest, his arms wrapping around you with protective intensity. Your entire body was shaking with an internal tremor you had no control over, muscles quivering like you'd been left out in freezing temperatures.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Okay. That’s it. We’re getting you help.”
“What?”
“I’m calling a doctor tomorrow. We’re getting you on something.”
You pulled back to look at him. “I don’t need medication.”
"Yes you do." He wasn't angry, which somehow made it worse. Anger you could have fought against, could have met with your own defensive rage. But he just sounded exhausted, worn down to nothing, like this conversation was draining the last reserves of energy he possessed. "Baby. You're having hallucinations. You're seeing things that aren't there. You're terrified constantly, jumping at every sound, unable to sleep. That's not normal. That's not healthy."
"I'm not hallucinating." You tried to inject conviction into the words but they came out weak and unconvincing even to your own ears.
"You just told me you saw a dead guy watching us have sex." He stated it plainly, without embellishment, and hearing it repeated back like that made it sound insane.
“I didn’t say he was dead.”
"Well he's clearly not alive and physically standing in our closet, so what else would he be?" Jake's hands came up to frame your face with careful gentleness, his palms warm against your cheeks. His thumbs pressed against your cheekbones with just enough pressure to ground you. "I love you. So much. More than anything. But I can't keep doing this. I can't keep checking every single room and closet and telling you nothing's there while I watch you fall apart piece by piece. You need help. Real, professional help. Not just me reassuring you that everything's fine when clearly it's not."
Your eyes began burning with the familiar pressure of approaching tears. You felt them spill over and track down your cheeks, the moisture collecting against his hands where they still held your face. "You don't believe me."
"I believe that you're genuinely seeing things. I believe that you're absolutely terrified and that your fear is real." He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment longer than necessary. The gesture felt like an apology, like he was asking forgiveness for what he was about to say. "I don't believe there's actually a ghost in our house. I believe your mind is creating these experiences because you're exhausted and stressed beyond your breaking point."
You wanted desperately to argue, to defend yourself against the implicit accusation that you were losing touch with reality. You wanted to grab that photo and shove it in his face and make him understand that you weren’t crazy. It was real and he needed to listen instead of looking at you like you were broken. You wanted him to look at you like his wife instead of like a patient who needed managing.
But he was holding you like you were made of something fragile that might shatter, and the combination of fear and exhaustion had left you with nothing left to fight with.
"Okay," you whispered, the surrender tasting bitter on your tongue.
Relief washed across his features so visibly it was almost painful to witness. "Yeah? You mean it?"
“Yeah. I’ll see a doctor.”
He pulled you back against his chest immediately and held you with enough force that your ribs protested, his arms creating a cage around you that was probably meant to feel protective but somehow felt more like containment. "Thank you. God, thank you so much. Everything's going to be okay. I promise. We're going to figure this out and get you feeling better."
You closed your eyes and pressed your face hard into his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his skin mixed with the lingering smell of sex. You could still feel those brown eyes on you, watching from somewhere you couldn't see, their presence as real and tangible as Jake's heartbeat against your cheek.
────୨ৎ────
Three weeks on the pills and things had been better.
Not perfect. The house still released its nightly symphony of creaks and groans, wood settling and pipes contracting in ways that sometimes sounded almost deliberate. You still experienced that persistent phenomenon of misplaced objects, things migrating from where you'd carefully set them down to locations that made no logical sense. But the hallucinations had stopped. You weren't seeing faces materialize in closet shadows anymore, weren't feeling the sensation of phantom hands pressing against your body when you were alone. Most importantly, Jake had stopped treating you like delicate glass that might shatter at any moment, stopped monitoring your every word and expression for signs of deteriorating mental health.
You stood at the kitchen sink in the quiet morning light and tipped two pills from the prescription bottle into your palm. They were small and white and deceptively ordinary looking for something that had apparently rewired your brain chemistry. You placed them on your tongue and chased them down with water, felt them slide down your throat in that particular way pills did, slightly catching before completing their descent.
Jake had departed for work several hours ago, his goodbye kiss still a fading warmth on your forehead along with his cheerful instruction to have a good day. You had a whole list of mundane tasks planned: errands to run, groceries to buy, dry cleaning to pick up. All the tediously normal things that normal people with stable mental health did on ordinary weekdays.
You climbed the stairs to get dressed, your hand trailing along the banister out of habit. In the bedroom you pulled on your favorite jeans and a comfortable sweater, the fabric soft from repeated washing. Your reflection in the bathroom mirror showed someone who looked tired around the eyes but fundamentally stable, grounded in reality. Progress, even if it was hard-won. You collected your keys from their designated spot on the bedroom dresser and made your way back downstairs, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet house. Your purse waited by the front door exactly where you'd left it the night before. You performed your usual pre-departure check, fingers locating your wallet and phone in their expected pockets. Everything accounted for and in order.
Your skin felt warm.
You froze with your hand already extended toward the doorknob, fingers hovering just inches from the cool metal. The warmth was spreading with unsettling speed, an internal heat that had nothing to do with the house's temperature. It originated somewhere deep in your chest and was now radiating outward like you'd swallowed something molten, creeping up your neck in a slow crawl, traveling down your arms in tingling waves, settling into your stomach with uncomfortable intensity.
The heat intensified with alarming rapidity. Within seconds your skin was burning, the sensation so overwhelming it felt like you'd stepped directly into a sauna set to maximum temperature or positioned yourself too close to an open flame. You grabbed at the neck of your sweater with clumsy fingers, pulling at the fabric that suddenly felt suffocatingly thick and restrictive, like it was actively trying to strangle you.
Something else was happening simultaneously, a secondary sensation that made your stomach drop with confused alarm. A different kind of heat had begun throbbing low in your belly, an unmistakable arousal pooling between your legs with an intensity that was both shocking and unwelcome. Your thighs pressed together in an automatic, unconscious response and the resulting friction against sensitive flesh made you gasp out loud, the sound startlingly loud in the empty house.
What the hell.
You abandoned your plan to leave and instead leaned heavily against the door, using it to support your suddenly unsteady body. Your heart was hammering violently against your ribs like it was trying to escape your chest. Your breathing had deteriorated into shallow, rapid gasps that weren't pulling in nearly enough oxygen. The dual sensations of burning heat and building arousal kept intensifying with each passing second, feeding off each other in some terrible feedback loop. Your body felt hypersensitive to the point of pain, every nerve ending firing at maximum capacity. The brush of your jeans against your legs, the pressure of your bra against your chest, every sensation registered as too much, overwhelming your ability to process sensory input.
You were simultaneously burning up and desperately turned on and you had absolutely no understanding of why this was happening or how to make it stop.
The pills. Your thoughts felt sluggish and fuzzy, like your brain was operating through layers of cotton, but that single word managed to surface through the haze. Had you somehow taken the wrong medication? Grabbed the wrong bottle in your morning routine? You stumbled back toward the kitchen with uncoordinated steps, your legs feeling weak and unreliable beneath you like they might give out entirely at any moment. The prescription bottle still sat on the counter exactly where you'd left it. You snatched it up with trembling hands that could barely maintain their grip and forced your eyes to focus on the tiny print of the label.
It was the same prescription. Same exact dosage. They were the same pills you’d been taking every morning for three weeks.
This wasn't a documented side effect. The doctor had been thorough when prescribing the medication, walking you through the complete list of potential reactions. Nothing like this had been mentioned. Jake had done his own research and would have definitely said something if this kind of response was even remotely possible.
You set the bottle back down with a clatter and gripped the counter's edge hard enough that your knuckles immediately drained of all color, the skin stretching white and tight over the bones. The heat had become genuinely unbearable now, so intense you genuinely felt like your skin might actually split open from internal pressure, like something was attempting to force its way out from inside your body.
Your sweater had to come off immediately. You grabbed the hem with both hands and yanked it over your head in one desperate motion, not caring when it caught briefly on your hair. The garment hit the floor in a heap of discarded fabric. The removal provided approximately ten seconds of relief, blessed coolness against your overheated skin, before the burning sensation returned with even greater intensity than before.
You lurched toward the refrigerator and wrenched open the freezer door with enough force to make the entire appliance rock slightly. Cold air billowed out in a visible cloud and you immediately pressed your face directly into the frigid stream, desperate for any kind of relief. It felt incredible, almost transcendently good in a way that felt vaguely scandalous, pleasure and relief tangling together in your overloaded nervous system. A sound escaped your throat before you could suppress it, a moan that was entirely too loud and breathy and suggestive for someone standing alone in their kitchen.
This was wrong. Something was very wrong.
Your physical responses had begun mimicking exactly what you'd feel if Jake was actively touching you, as if invisible hands were currently sliding across your bare skin with deliberate intent and phantom lips were pressed against your neck leaving invisible marks. But you were completely alone in the kitchen wearing nothing but your bra and jeans and there was absolutely nothing and no one physically touching you.
You could feel it anyway, could feel all of it with perfect clarity. Phantom sensations that felt as real as anything you'd ever experienced made your spine arch involuntarily and your breath catch in your throat. Waves of pleasure were building inside you with relentless momentum, completely beyond your control or ability to stop.
"Stop," you said out loud to the empty kitchen, your voice emerging wrecked and desperate and barely recognizable. "Stop it."
It didn't stop. The invisible touch moved lower with deliberate intent, phantom hands sliding down your stomach toward the waistband of your jeans. Your hips rolled forward in an involuntary response against absolutely nothing, your body betraying you with its automatic reaction. Your hand shot out wildly and connected with the pill bottle still sitting on the counter edge. It went flying, hitting the floor with a sharp crack of plastic against tile. Pills exploded everywhere, scattering across the kitchen floor in a spray of white tablets that pinged and rolled in every direction.
You sank down to your knees, your legs finally giving out completely under the dual assault of sensation and fear. The tile was shockingly cold against your overheated skin, the temperature contrast almost painful. You pressed your forehead directly against that cold surface and tried desperately to breathe through what was happening to your body, tried to find some kind of mental anchor that might let you regain even a fraction of control.
The phantom sensations kept building with relentless momentum, pushing you inexorably toward something you absolutely did not want. Not like this. Not alone on the kitchen floor half-dressed while something invisible touched you everywhere at once, while pleasure you hadn't asked for built inside you beyond your ability to stop it.
You squeezed your eyes shut with enough force to see stars behind your eyelids and bit down hard on your lip, the sharp pain grounding you slightly. You tasted copper as skin broke under your teeth.
And then you felt breath against your ear, warm and real and so close you could feel the shape of words even though no sound came out.
Someone was here with you.
You forced your eyes open, terror overriding every other sensation flooding your system.
The man from the photograph was crouched directly in front of you, close enough to touch. His dark hair fell across his forehead in soft waves, partially obscuring brown eyes that watched you with unmistakable amusement. He was near enough that you could catalog every detail of his face with perfect clarity.
He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were something fascinating he'd discovered. "Hey."
You screamed.
He laughed in response, the sound casual and completely at odds with the situation. One hand pressed over his heart in an exaggerated gesture while a mockingly touched expression crossed his features. "Yeah, I know. I get that a lot. The ladies love me."
"What?" Your voice emerged as barely more than a rasp, your throat already raw from screaming. You scrambled backward desperately, your nearly naked back scraping against the cabinet hardware as you tried to put any amount of distance between yourself and this impossible presence. "What are you? A pervert? What the hell are you doing to me, you freak?"
"Ouch." He settled back on his heels, looking genuinely wounded by your words. The amused smile faded into something closer to an actual pout, his bottom lip pushing out slightly. "That's rude. I have a name, you know. It's Sunghoon. Can you call me that instead of these mean names?"
You sputtered incoherently for a moment, your brain completely unable to process the sheer audacity of this ghost or hallucination or whatever he was acting offended while you were literally sprawled half-naked on your kitchen floor.
"You know," he continued conversationally, like you were having a normal chat over coffee instead of this nightmare scenario, "I wasn't sure exactly how long it would take to kick in. The bottle said thirty minutes for full effect but I figured with your body weight, maybe closer to twenty?" He glanced down at his wrist like he was checking a watch that wasn't actually there, miming the gesture with his empty arm. "Pretty close to my estimate. I'm getting really good at this."
You stared at him, your oxygen-deprived brain struggling to process the words coming out of his mouth or reconcile what you were seeing with any version of reality that made sense. "What?"
"The pills." He reached down and plucked one of the scattered tablets from the floor, holding it up between his thumb and forefinger for your inspection like it was evidence in a trial. "I switched them out. Well, not all of them obviously. That would've been way too obvious and you would've noticed immediately. Just enough that you'd take them at your normal time and," He gestured broadly at you sprawled on the kitchen floor in just your bra and jeans, skin flushed and breathing labored. "Here we are."
"What did you give me?" Your voice cracked.
"Aphrodisiacs. Really strong ones too." He shifted to crouch at your level, bringing his face even closer to yours, that infuriating smile still playing at the corners of his mouth. "Took them from the previous owner's bedroom stash. They left in such a hurry they forgot all sorts of interesting things up there." He paused, his head tilting again in that particular way that made him look predatory despite the casual tone. "I could touch you whenever I want, you know. Make you feel anything. But where's the fun in that? This is so much better. You have no idea what's happening to your own body. You can't fight it or control it or make it stop." His eyes dragged over your half-clothed form with deliberate slowness, taking in every detail of your current state. "You should see your face right now. It's perfect."
Horror crashed through you in a wave so intense it momentarily overrode even the chemical heat flooding your system. "You're insane. You're harassing me!" The burning arousal was still coursing through your body with undiminished intensity but fear was cutting through it now, slicing everything into sharp focus and making your panic spike even higher. "Get away from me right now."
His eyebrows climbed toward his hairline in exaggerated surprise. "I'm harassing you? That's rich. You're the one who moved into my house without permission."
“Your house? This is my house. Jake and I bought it.”
"Bought it." Sunghoon's laugh filled the kitchen, bright and cheerful and completely wrong given the circumstances. "Yeah, okay. Sure. Pretty sure I was here first though. Like, years before you showed up. And I tried so hard to get you to leave, I really did put in the effort. The mugs appearing in weird places. The shower curtain moving. The footsteps on the stairs." He gestured broadly like he was presenting a resume of accomplishments he was particularly proud of. "I even watched you guys having sex. Stood right there in your closet and watched the whole thing. Thought that would definitely do it for sure, thought you'd be out of here within a week."
Your stomach turned violently at the confirmation that all of it had been real, that you hadn't been losing your mind. "You're disgusting."
"Hey, I didn't enjoy it." He paused, a wink accompanying his next words. "I mean, I didn't not enjoy it either. You're cute. Your husband is incredibly boring but you? You're cute."
"Change them back," you gasped out desperately, your hands gripping the cabinet behind you hard enough to hurt. The pharmaceutical heat was still overwhelming every other sensation, still building despite your terror. Your body was still responding to whatever he'd given you, and knowing the cause wasn't doing anything to make it stop. "Give me the real pills. Please."
"Can't. Already flushed them down the toilet." He sat back on his heels, looking entirely too pleased with himself for someone who'd just admitted to drugging another person. "These should wear off in a few hours though. Maybe six? The bottle wasn't super clear on dosage recommendations. But hey, look on the bright side! At least now you know you're not crazy. Well, not about the house stuff anyway."
“Get away from me.” You tried to press further back but there was nowhere to go. The cabinet was solid against your spine.
"Can't do that either. This is my house, remember? I literally can't leave." Sunghoon reached out slowly like he was going to touch your face, his hand moving through the space between you with deliberate intent. His fingers stopped just short of making contact with your skin, hovering there in a way that felt more threatening than an actual touch would have been. "Besides, you can take all the real pills you want now, see all the therapists your insurance will cover. I'm still going to be here. I tried to scare you off, I really did put in genuine effort. But you're still here after all of it."
He leaned forward, eliminating what little distance remained between your bodies. His face was now mere inches from yours, close enough that you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to, close enough to see the unnatural stillness of his chest that never rose or fell with breath. You shouldn't be able to see this much detail on something that was supposed to be dead. "And honestly? I don't mind anymore. You're entertaining. Way better than the last people who lived here. They were so boring, so predictable. Didn't even scream when I moved their stuff around."
The chemically-induced heat pulsed stronger through your system, your traitorous body responding with renewed intensity even though your mind was screaming at it to stop. You let out a choked sound that was half desperate sob and half something else entirely, something you didn't want to acknowledge.
"Yeah. See? You like it." His voice dropped several registers lower, becoming softer and more intimate in a way that made your skin crawl. "I can make you feel so good. Better than your husband does, and I've been watching so I know exactly how he touches you. I know exactly what you need, what makes you fall apart."
“You’re sick.”
"I'm dead actually. Pretty different thing when you think about it." He sat back slightly, creating a few more inches of space between you. The increased distance felt like it should provide some relief but it didn't help at all. You could still feel phantom touches crawling all over your body with increasing boldness. "But sure, yeah. Call me sick if it makes you feel better about the situation. Doesn't change the fact that you're stuck with me now."
You tried to stand, tried to force your legs to cooperate and get you upright and away from this nightmare. Your muscles refused to obey the commands your brain was desperately sending. The drug-induced pleasure was building again with terrifying momentum, cresting toward something you absolutely did not want to reach, not with him watching with those amused eyes.
You squeezed your eyes shut with brutal force, trying to block him out of your awareness, trying to pretend this wasn't happening. The phantom pressure against your overheated body intensified in immediate response to your attempt at escape. The sensation of a mouth traced a deliberate path along your jawline. It wasn't human, lacked all the normal qualities of an actual kiss. There was no wetness or natural warmth, just an impossible suction of penetrating cold that somehow burned against your flushed skin. Your head thrashed violently to the side in denial, a pathetic whimper escaping your lips as the ghost of a tongue dragged down the vulnerable tendon of your neck with agonizing slowness.
The searing phantom heat raging inside your body was fighting a war with the invasive cold attacking from outside, and the conflict between the two extremes was systematically shredding your nerves into ribbons. You were going to scream, or dissolve into hysterical tears, or worse, give in completely to the relentless chemical need he'd deliberately poisoned you with.
"There you go," his voice purred directly in your ear despite the fact that his physical form still sat visible in front of you, just observing your breakdown with clinical interest. "Fighting it makes it so much sweeter to watch."
“Stop,” you begged, the word a broken thing. “Please.”
"That's the wrong word to use." His voice carried the texture of velvet wrapped around a threat. "Try 'more' instead."
He simply shifted forward on his knees, closing the distance you'd been trying to maintain. His mouth, suddenly solid and undeniably real, pressed against the exposed base of your throat. You felt the distinct pressure of teeth against your vulnerable skin before he bit down with deliberate force.
A gasp ripped from your chest involuntarily. It was a deep, marrow-chilling shock that seemed to leech the very warmth from your blood, a branding cold that arced through your entire system. It provided a strange and terrible counterpoint to the drug's artificial fever burning through you. The cold stole your breath completely. For one blessed second, the overwhelming internal heat was eclipsed entirely by this violent, invasive cold.
He released you and leaned back casually, his tongue darting out to lick his lips in a gesture that was deliberately provocative. A smirk played across his face while his eyes gleamed with dark, perverse satisfaction. The spot on your neck where his teeth had been throbbed with a lingering, icy ache that pulsed in time with your racing heartbeat.
"You taste like panic," he said, his tone conversational, as if discussing the weather. "And lavender laundry detergent. Interesting combination."
You couldn't speak, couldn't force any words past the constriction in your throat. You brought a trembling hand up to your neck, fingers searching for damage. The skin was unbroken, no mark visible or tactile, but you could still feel the exact imprint of his teeth branded into your flesh.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned, came roaring back with a vengeance, intensified by the adrenaline crash. A violent shudder wracked your body, and your vision swam. The kitchen tiles tilted. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl.
The spell of the drug, momentarily stunned into submission by the shock of his bite, came roaring back with absolute vengeance, intensified exponentially by the adrenaline crash flooding your system. A violent shudder wracked your entire body and your vision swam alarmingly. The kitchen tiles seemed to tilt at impossible angles. Everything blurred into a nauseating swirl of color and sensation.
Your muscles clenched, a tight coil of absolute need. You tried to think of anything else, grocery lists, the bland color of the living room walls, Jake’s face smiling at you this morning. The thoughts melted like wax before the flame. A low, wounded sound was trapped in your throat. Your body wasn’t listening to you anymore. It was listening exclusively to the poison coursing through your bloodstream.
The sensation built with terrifying inevitability, a cresting wave that had nothing to do with genuine pleasure and everything to do with biological hijacking. Your back arched violently off the floor, your fingers scraped desperately against the unforgiving tile hard enough to break skin, and a silent, shuddering release tore through you with brutal force. For approximately three seconds, it flooded you with relief.
Then the heat roared back twice as fierce as before. This time it manifested as a raw and scraping hunger that made the previous burning seem like gentle warmth by comparison. A choked cry of despair escaped you. The release hadn't helped at all. It had only made the empty, aching need more desperate and consuming.
"Oh, wow." Sunghoon's voice dripped like liquid honey from somewhere above you. He hadn't moved from his position. He was just sitting there comfortably, legs crossed, chin resting in his hand, watching you completely unravel on his kitchen floor like it was entertainment. "That looked incredibly unsatisfying. All that work and you're still right back where you started. Maybe even worse now, yeah?"
You couldn't look at him, couldn't bear to see whatever expression was on his face. Humiliation coated your mouth like thick paste, mixing with the panting breaths you couldn't control. Your whole body was trembling uncontrollably, oversensitive and raw, screaming for a relief that the orgasm had cruelly teased and then stolen away.
“The body wants what it wants,” he sighed, as if discussing a mildly inconvenient fact. “And yours wants a lot right now. It must be so confusing for it. All dressed up with nowhere to go.”
The phantom touches started again. Not the broad, overwhelming waves from before, but precise, expert taps and strokes along the most overheated, frantic parts of you. It was deliberate. It was torture. You jerked against the cabinet, a fresh sob breaking loose.
“Do you want me to make you feel better?”
The question hung in the air, so simple and so monstrous. It was a taunt.
You shook your head, squeezing your eyes shut, trying to bury your face in your arms. The movement sent another vicious pulse of need through your core.
“I can,” he pressed, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. The cold spot of his presence materialized right beside your ear. You felt the shape of words against your skin. “I know exactly how. I’ve been practicing. I can make it stop hurting. I can make it feel so good you’ll forget your own name. Just say the word.”
Every cell in your body was a lit fuse. The rational part of you, the part that was still you, screamed in negation. But that part was small, and drowning, and so very tired of the burning. The animal part, the part the pills had put in charge, only understood the agony of need and the promise of pleasure.
The silence stretched, broken only by your ragged breathing.
He let out a soft, disappointed hum. “Okay. Suit yourself. I’ve got all day. All week, really. Forever’s a long time to be this uncomfortable.”
Another expert, invisible stroke. A pained whimper was torn from your throat. “Fine! Yes!”
Sunghoon shifted, his form solidifying more as he settled cross-legged on the floor in front of you, blocking your view of the scattered pills. He looked like a boy about to listen to a good story, his head tilted, that pretty mouth pressed into a line of mock-sympathy.
“See, that’s a start,” he said, his voice a silken thread. “But ‘yes’ is… vague. You always beg so nicely for your husband.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Can’t you be more specific?”
The phantom touch, which had paused, returned with a sharp flick right where you were most sensitized. You jolted, a cry strangling in your throat. He was provoking you.
“You want me to make you feel better?” he prompted, his eyes dark and hungry for more than just your body. He wanted the words. “Then ask for it. Properly.”
Tears of frustration and shame burned hotter than the drug. Your body was a traitor, arching slightly toward the source of the touch even as your mind recoiled. “Please,” you whispered, the word torn from you.
“Please what?” he singsonged, relentlessly cheerful. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop? Context is everything.”
Another slow, swirling stroke, this one drawn-out and deliberate. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary rock against nothing. The breath hitched in your chest, coming in shallow pants.
“I can’t,” you sobbed.
“You can. You’re a big girl.” His smile was chilling in its patience. “Use your words. What do you want me to do? Be explicit. I’m not your husband. I don’t do guesswork.”
The pressure built again, a tantalizing promise of release held just out of reach. The need was a physical pain now, a raw, scraping hollow that demanded to be filled. Your sanity was a distant shore. There was only the fire and the ice-cold boy who controlled the faucet.
You squeezed your eyes shut, hot tears tracking through the dust on your cheeks. The words felt like swallowing ground glass.
“Please… touch me.”
A beat of silence. Then a sigh, disappointed. “Again with the vagueness. Where?” The last word was a sharp whisper, accompanied by a sudden, pinpoint burst of sensation so intense it blurred your vision. “Here?”
You gasped, nodding frantically, your forehead nearly touching the tile.
“Say it.”
Your voice was a broken thing, ragged and small. “There. Please. Touch me there.”
“Better.” The approval in his voice was the worst part. It felt like a stain. “But we’re still being so clinical. So detached.” The phantom touch withdrew completely, leaving you shaking, the emptiness somehow more violent than the teasing. “I want to hear you want it. Really want it. Beg for it.”
The withdrawal was a new kind of torture. The chemical tide, denied its outlet, turned inward, scraping at your nerves. A low moan escaped you. The last fragile thread of resistance snapped.
“Please,” you babbled, the words tumbling out in a desperate, humiliated stream. “Please, I need it. Please, just… do it. Make me come. I can’t-I need to come. Please, Sunghoon, please.”
There it was. His name, followed by the specific, degrading request.
“See? Was that so hard?” The smile didn’t leave his face. It was a real smile now, reaching his eyes and crinkling the corners. He looked like a boy who’d just been given the best present. He unfolded himself from his cross-legged position and crawled toward you.
You tried to shrink back, but the cabinet was still there, unyielding. Your body, thrumming with the poison, betrayed you further, tilting toward him as he closed the last of the distance.
“Shhh,” he whispered, though you hadn’t made a sound. His hand came to rest on your bare knee. “Just relax. I’ll take care of it.”
His other hand came up to cradle your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. The touch was intimate, possessive. His eyes scanned your face, reading every flicker of terror and unwilling need. “This is better, right?” he murmured. “Asking for what you need?”
You couldn’t answer. Your throat was sealed shut with shame.
He leaned in. You braced for a cold kiss, but he just rested his forehead against yours. His skin was like marble. You could see the faint, impossible pores in his nose, the individual black lashes. He was so there.
“Now,” he breathed, the word floating into your mouth. He slid your panties off quickly, wasting no time before sinking into you.
The sensation of him thrusting inside you carved a white-hot line of pure pleasure through the drug’s fever. It was fullness where there had been an agonizing need. It was so profoundly wrong that your mind short-circuited. A shattered sound was trapped in your frozen lungs.
Sunghoon’s forehead still pressed to yours, his brown eyes wide open, watching you dissolve. A soft, appreciative sigh escaped his lips. “Oh,” he whispered, as if genuinely moved. “That’s it. See?”
He began to move.
There was no rhythm to it. Each movement was calculated, a cruel parody of intimacy you usually get when it’s Jake inside you. Sunghoon’s targeting places that made your back bow and your fingers claw against the tile. The chemical need, met with this chilling mockery of relief, created a feedback loop of sensation that was intolerable. Pleasure and revulsion twisted together, inseparable.
Tears streamed down your face silently. You were pinned between the solid wood of the cabinet and the solid cold of him.
“You feel that?” he murmured, his voice thick with a dark kind of wonder. “That’s all me. I’m everywhere you are.”
His form began to blur slightly at the edges, not vanishing but spreading. The cold wasn’t just inside you anymore. It was seeping into your muscles, your bones, a frost spreading through your bloodstream. The heat of the drug fought it, creating a war under your skin. You were shaking violently, a puppet with its strings cut and frayed.
The pressure inside you coiled tighter, drawn by his will. The climax, when it was ripped from you, was a devastating earthquake. It was a seizure of icy voltage, a shattering that left you hollowed out and raw. Your vision whited out at the edges, and for a few seconds, there was nothing. No sound, no sight, just the echo of the violation.
Then, when you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Jake.
Jake stood in the kitchen doorway, his work bag dangling from one limp hand. His face was a blank slate of incomprehension. He blinked, his brain visibly scrambling to process the scene: you, on the floor as your body shakes with an invisible weight, surrounded by a chaos of pills.
“What…?” His voice was soft, almost polite with confusion. He took a step inside, his keys jangling. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”
He was looking at the pills, at your state of undress, trying to fit it into a logical box. Maybe you’d fainted, had a seizure or something medical.
Sunghoon’s laugh was a humid whisper against your neck, his rhythm relentless and claiming. “He looks so stupid,” he murmured, the words slithering into your ear as your body jerked with his movement. “Just a confused little husband.”
“Talk to me,” Jake pleaded, his confusion sharpening into alarm as he watched your back arch against the cabinet. “Why are you… what’s happening?”
Your mouth moved. No sound came out. How could you form words around what had just happened? A ghost drugged me and then fucked me on the kitchen floor while I begged for it? The sentence was insanity itself.
“He looks pissed,” Sunghoon murmured, his voice a secret just for you. “Bet he’s never seen you like this. All used up. Bet he doesn’t know what to do with it.”
Jake took another step, his shoes crunching on a pill. “Talk to me. Right now.” The command in his voice was new. It was fear, sharpened into anger.
“She can’t,” Sunghoon answered for you, his tone sing-song with mock sympathy as he drove himself harder into your yielding body. “She’s a little busy being full. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”
Jake’s gaze dropped, following the helpless, rhythmic clench of your body in thin air, and the color drained from his face. The logical world he built his life on splintered right there on the kitchen tiles.
“Stop it,” he growled, though he didn’t know who or what he was commanding, his voice thick with a rising terror. He took another step, hand outstretched not to you, but to the empty, charged space between your thighs.
Sunghoon’s pace became punishing, a brutal celebration of his own invisibility. “See how he watches?” he cooed, his breath chilling your skin. “He’s starting to get it. That his wife is coming apart on nothing.”
A sob tore from your throat as the sensations crested, a terrifying wave you couldn’t fight. Your eyes locked with Jake’s, screaming an apology he couldn’t possibly understand.
“Tell him,” Sunghoon insisted, each word a thrust. “Tell your husband why you’re gaping open like a cheap whore while he watches.”
“It’s him,” you choked out, the words raw and scraped from your throat as your body betrayed you with another uncontrollable shudder. You forced your gaze away from Jake’s shattered expression, turning your head as if to address the cold air at your cheek. “Sunghoon. Show yourself.”
Jake moved then, a jerky, mechanical step to the side, his eyes fixed lower. From behind you, he saw everything. The impossible, intimate flutter of your walls around something that was stretching you out despite the empty space. His breath hitched, a sharp, pained sound.
“What?” he whispered, the question hollow.
A rich, amused laugh answered, swirling through the chilled kitchen air, the sound closer to your ear than Jake’s voice had ever been. “Why would I do that?” Sunghoon purred, his movement inside you shifting to a slow, possessive grind that made your knees buckle. “I only like pretty girls seeing me.”
Jake’s confusion finally broke into a frantic, disbelieving motion. His face was a mask of revulsion and desperate denial, his mind scrambling for any explanation other than the one his eyes reported.
“This isn’t happening,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, his voice thin. He took one last, jerky step forward, his hand outstretched with a trembling hesitation.
His thumb brushed your inner thigh, a touch so familiar it made you weep, before his index finger pressed tentatively against the slick heat of you, right at the point of that impossible, rhythmic clenching.
He felt it immediately.
The undeniable, solid presence of something moving inside you, something cold and foreign thrusting hard and deep. His finger was pressed right alongside it, trapped against the invading shape by your own tortured flesh.
He froze.
His eyes, wide and unblinking, locked onto yours. His breath stopped in his chest. All the color and warmth left his face. The sensation against his finger was a concrete, physical truth his logic could not absorb or explain away.
Sunghoon thrust again. A full, brutal slide that made your entire body jolt and a sick, wet sound escape you. Jake’s finger moved with it, forced aside by the motion. You moan at the fullness, stretched beyond what you could handle. He snatched his hand back as if burned, staring at his own fingers as if they belonged to a stranger.
Sunghoon chuckled, a sound of pure delight that seemed to vibrate through your very bones. He slowed to a torturous, rolling grind, savoring the audience. “Believe it now, Jake?” he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy.
“You felt that,” you managed to say, the words tearing out of you on a ragged exhale. “You felt him.”
“I felt something,” Jake corrected, his voice a hollow rasp. He looked down at his own body, then back at you. His expression crumbled into something worse than fear, shame. His sweatpants tented unmistakably.
Sunghoon’s grinding inside you paused, replaced by a low, delighted hum. “Oh, this is good,” he breathed into your ear, his fingers tracing a cold line up your ribs. “Look at him. Terrified out of his skull and still pitching a tent. You must just give off a vibe, huh?”
“Jake, please,” you begged, fresh tears hot on your cheeks.
“Don’t ‘please’ me,” he snapped, but the anger was thin, covering a bottomless well of panic. He didn’t move from the refrigerator, as if pinned. “What is this? Some kind of… sleepwalking thing? A seizure?”
“It’s not me!” you cried, your body jerking again as Sunghoon began a slow, teasing slide.
“He thinks it’s you,” Sunghoon murmured conversationally, his lips ghosting your temple. “He thinks his sweet wife is having some hysterical episode, rubbing herself on the cabinet like a cat in heat while he watches. And he likes the show.”
“Stop saying that,” you whimpered, closing your eyes.
“What am I saying?” Jake yelled, pushing off the fridge, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He still wouldn’t come closer. “I’m not saying anything! You’re the one talking to the goddamn air!”
Sunghoon laughed, and the vibration traveled through you. “Tell him the truth. That I’m here, inside you. That your husband is so turned on by watching his wife get haunted that he’s about to bust a seam.”
The crude words, spoken in that intimate, boyish voice, finally broke something in you. You focused on Jake’s terrified, aroused, utterly lost face.
“You can’t see or hear him, but you felt him. He’s-” your words break off into a moan when Sunghoon presses down on your clit with his thumb. “He’s inside me.”
Jake’s mouth fell open. A violent shudder ran through him.
“That’s it,” Sunghoon cooed, his pace increasing, becoming purposeful and deep. “Now we’re all on the same page. You’re both so fucked up. A matched set.”
“Who? Who are you talking to?” Jake demanded, his voice cracking. He took one step forward, then another, driven by a frantic need to fix this.
“Sunghoon,” you sobbed, the name now a permanent stain in your kitchen. “His name is Sunghoon.”
Jake reached for you, not the air this time, his hands aiming for your shoulders to pull you away from the cabinet, to shake you awake. But as his fingers brushed your skin, Sunghoon thrust hard, pinning you in place. You cried out, your back arching.
Jake flinched back, but his hands stayed on your shoulders. In that horrible moment, his hips unconsciously jerked forward an inch, a tiny, reflexive stutter against the roaring adrenaline and paralyzing fear.
Sunghoon saw it. You felt his delight like a static charge.
“You slut,” he whispered, warm and approving against your ear. “You’re so slutty you broke your husband’s brain. He wants to fuck you right now while he watches you get railed by a ghost. That’s a new one, even for me.”
Jake’s hands dropped from your shoulders as if your skin had electrified him. He took two stumbling steps back, his breath coming in short, ragged pulls. The visible evidence of his arousal was now a source of palpable shame, and he crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his posture folding in on itself.
“This isn’t real,” he whispered, but the words held no conviction, only a hollow hope. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, took in your body. He scanned your trembling legs, the sheen of sweat on your collarbone, the frantic rise and fall of your chest. Logic had nothing left to give him.
“Feels pretty real from here,” you gasped, as Sunghoon resumed a slow, excruciating rhythm, each deep stroke a cold mockery of intimacy.
A different kind of tension was coiling tight in your belly, separate from the violation. It was a low, chemical burn, a remembered heat flickering back to life in your veins. Your mouth felt cottony. The edges of the room pulsed softly.
Jake’s eyes narrowed slightly, doctor’s instinct cutting through the panic. He saw the unnatural flush on your neck, the dilated black of your pupils swallowing the iris in the dim light. His gaze darted to the empty water glass on the counter, then back to your face.
“The pills,” he said, his voice shifting from terror to a strained clinical concern. “Your prescription. Did it do something to you?”
Sunghoon’s movement inside you hitched, then stilled, a predator listening. A cold finger traced the shell of your ear.
“Oh, this is juicy,” he murmured, his voice a secret just for you. “The little medicine. It’s still buzzing in there, isn’t it? Must be getting pretty uncomfortable.”
You nodded at Jake, a stiff, jerky motion. “Just two.” The admission was thick on your tongue.
“Just two,” Sunghoon parroted, laughing softly. “But it still aches doesn’t it? Your system’s all lit up with nowhere to put the juice.”
Jake ran a hand over his face, the friction loud in the quiet kitchen. “Okay. Okay, that’s a side effect. A rare one, but it’s in the literature. The heightened… sensitivity. It can cause agitation, a feeling of…”
“Of needing to come so bad it feels like your skin’s on fire?” Sunghoon finished for him, cheerfully crude. “Tell him, sweetheart. Tell your smart husband what his wife’s little medicine is making her feel right now, with me inside her.”
You shook your head, biting your lip until you tasted copper.
“Tell him,” Sunghoon insisted, and he pushed deeper, a sharp, startling penetration that made you cry out. “Or I stop moving entirely. I’ll just sit here, inside you, and you can ride out that chemical burn all by yourself. See how long it takes before you’re screaming.”
The threat was worse than the motion. The burning intensified, a wave of raw, frustrating need that overrode dignity. Your hips gave a tiny, involuntary jerk against the empty air, seeking friction, release, anything.
Jake saw it. His clinical analysis collided with the grotesque reality before him.
“It… it hurts,” you choked out, the confession shattering you. “Jake, it’s burning. It won’t stop. The pill and he… and I can’t…”
Sunghoon hummed in approval. “Good girl. Now ask him. Ask your husband to help you feel better.”
“No,” Jake said, the word immediate and final. He backed up until the counter’s edge dug into his spine. “I am not… I am not doing anything with you while that… while he’s…”
“He doesn’t care,” Sunghoon sang, his voice light. “I’m not going anywhere. This is the situation. Your wife is in physical distress, and you’re just going to stand there and watch her cook from the inside out? What kind of a husband are you?”
The burning was a live wire now, sizzling through your nerves, concentrating in a desperate, aching pulse between your legs made a thousand times worse by the occupying cold. Rational thought dissolved.
“Jake, please,” you begged, your voice breaking into a sob. “Please, just help me. Make it stop. I don’t care, I can’t think, it just hurts.”
“I can’t,” he whispered, agony in his own voice. “Not with him there. Don’t ask me to do that.”
“You don’t have to do anything to me,” Sunghoon keeps talking as if Jake can hear him. “Just her. She’s the one suffering. Think of it as medical aid for the burning.”
You slid down the cabinet another inch, your legs giving way. The tile was icy against your thighs. “Please, Jake. I need you. I just need it to stop. Help me.”
The words hung in the chilled air. Jake stood paralyzed, a man torn between the impossible and the unbearable. He stared at his wife, broken and begging on their kitchen floor, and the last wall of his denial crumbled into dust.
A ragged breath tore from his lungs. He crossed the cold tiles in three stiff strides, his own body still tensed with a revolting mixture of fear and that traitorous, persistent heat.
“Okay,” he said, the word barely audible. “Okay, just… tell me what to do.”
Sunghoon’s laughter was a silent tremor you felt deep inside your marrow. The oppressive, moving cold within you stilled, becoming a static fullness. “Finally,” the voice sighed near your ear. “Just get her ready for us. She’s tight as a fist.”
Jake knelt, the linoleum cracking under his knees. His hands, usually so sure, hovered over your splayed thighs. He looked into your eyes, seeking permission.
You gave a tiny, desperate nod.
His touch was clinical at first, fingers slick with your own moisture, probing tentatively. He touched where the emptiness should have been, and his knuckles brushed against solid, cold resistance.
He flinched, a full-body shudder. “Christ.”
“He’s right there,” you whispered, watching his face. “Can you feel him?”
Jake’s jaw worked. He pressed two fingers in alongside that chilling presence, a slow, careful stretch. The sensation was wrong, all wrong. Your warmth hugged his fingers, but they slid against something unyielding and frigid, a sleek barrier sharing the same space.
“It’s like a wall,” he muttered, his voice thick with disbelief. “A cold, living wall.”
“I’m not a wall,” Sunghoon chided, amusement rippling through the connection. “I’m just comfortable. Hurry up, man. The anticipation is cute and all, but we’re burning daylight.”
Jake added a third finger, his movements becoming more urgent, a mechanic trying to fix a broken machine with the engine still running. He was breathing hard through his nose, eyes glazed, focused on the paradox under his hand.
You gasped, the stretch a raw contrast to the chemical fire. “Please, Jake. Now.”
He fumbled with the waistband of his sweatpants, his movements clumsy. When he positioned himself, the reality of it hit him like a physical blow. He could see nothing. But the space was occupied. He pressed forward, and the head of his cock met not just you, but the shocking, solid coolness of another.
“Oh, God,” he choked.
He pushed, and the impossible happened. He slid in, a tight fit alongside that other presence. They were packed together moving in a perverse unison. He could feel the other’s shape, its motion, a synchronous pressure alongside his own.
“See?” Sunghoon’s voice was a breath of pure delight. “Cozy.”
Jake’s first thrust was a stutter, a spasm of horror and base mechanics. His eyes were wide, unseeing, locked on a point past your shoulder. He was inside his wife, and he was not alone. The trippy, brain-breaking reality of it short-circuited expression.
He just moved.
The rhythm was jangling and off, two separate entities trying to share a single groove. You were utterly full, stretched beyond any sense, the burning panic now fused with an overwhelming, choking pressure. You could feel every inch of Jake, warm and familiar and trembling. And you could feel Sunghoon, cold and exacting and still, just… there.
“There you go,” Sunghoon coaxed, as if coaching a teammate. “Get a rhythm. It’s like a tandem bike. Or a threesome where one guy’s a ghost. Cheaper, I guess.”
Jake made a sound, a guttural mix of a sob and a moan. He found a pace, a deep, driving tempo born of desperation to finish this. Each forward push met that chilling presence, a constant, rubbing reminder.
Your sounds were cries strangled by sheer overwhelm. Your fingers scrambled against the cold tile, finding no purchase. Sunghoon began to move again, subtly at first, then with more definition, carving his own path within the shared space. Jake gasped, faltering.
“Don’t stop,” Sunghoon commanded, his voice losing its playful edge for a slit-second. “You’re doing so good. Just keep going. She’s almost there.”
It was a lie. You were nowhere near anything but insanity. But Jake obeyed despite not being able to hear the command. Jake’s rhythm became frantic, purposeful, a man trying to hammer a nail through his own nightmare.
Sunghoon matched him, thrust for thrust, a cold echo to Jake’s heat.
The pressure crested in a splitting fullness. You screamed, a raw, torn sound that seemed to startle the very air in the room. Your body locked, convulsing around the dual invasion. It ripped through you, locking your muscles and arching your spine off the cold tile.
Jake felt the violent, rhythmic clench around him and cried out, a sound of utter surrender. His own release was torn from him, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he spilled warmth inside you.
Inside you, the cold presence jerked, then pulsed. Another flood of wetness joined the heat, this time a cold wave that whipped a broken gasp from your throat. And as Sunghoon finished, a low, satisfied groan escaping him, something flickered.
A crackle of static, a warp in the air behind Jake’s shoulder. For a second, it was just a distortion. Then it solidified.
Sunghoon’s groan cut off into a sharp, startled hiss. “Shit.”
Jake, still buried in you, his body trembling with spent horror, felt the new presence like a change in pressure. He lifted his head from your shoulder, his bleary, tear-filled eyes following your frozen gaze over your shoulder.
And he saw.
A man, crouched on the floor of their kitchen, one hand braced against the cabinet as if steadying himself, his other hand still hovering near the back of Jake’s thigh. Mid-twenties, dark hair falling into eyes that were wide with momentary surprise before they shuttered into cold amusement. A pretty, boyish face that didn’t match the crude reality of where he’d just been.
Jake froze. All breath, all thought, all sound left him.
Sunghoon recovered his grin, though it was tighter now. “Oops,” he said, his voice no longer a whisper in your ear but a clear, resonant sound in the room. He didn’t move his hand from beside Jake’s leg. “Got a little carried away. Hi, Jake.”
Jake did not speak. He was a statue etched in pure, paralytic shock. His eyes dragged from Sunghoon’s face, down his arm, to where his own body was still joined to yours. The geometry of it, the three of them connected in this vile chain, finally had a visible link.
The logical mind, so diligently clung to, gave its final, silent scream and went dark.
With a raw, animal noise that started in his gut, Jake wrenched himself back, separating from you with a wet sound. He scrambled away on all fours, like a crab, until his back hit the oven door, his sweatpants tangled around his knees.
He stared, unblinking.
“You’re…,” Jake breathed, the word rusted.
“I’m,” Sunghoon agreed, pushing himself upright with an eerie, weightless grace. He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms, looking between you, still splayed and trembling on the floor, and your husband huddled by the stove. “Yeah. This is awkward.”
Jake’s hand rose, pointing a trembling finger. “You were… inside…”
“Yeah, we covered that part,” Sunghoon said, sighing as if bored. He examined his own nails, which looked perfectly solid. “The seeing part is new. For you, anyway. She,” he nodded toward you, “has been getting the full VIP specter experience for a while now.”
Jake’s head swiveled to you. His eyes were shattered windows. “You see him? Like this?”
You could only nod, pulling your knees to your chest, a futile attempt to shield yourself from both of their gazes. The burning was gone, replaced by a hollow, frozen ache and a shame so profound it felt like your own ghost was leaving your body.
“All this time,” Jake whispered. The words were flat, dead things. “You weren’t stressed.”
“Told you,” you managed to whisper, but it held no victory.
Sunghoon pushed off the counter and took a spectral step toward Jake, who flinched, pressing harder against the oven. “Don’t look so betrayed,” Sunghoon said, his head tilting. “You just had a conjoined orgasm with me. That’s a pretty intimate icebreaker. We’re practically besties.”
“Don’t touch me,” Jake spat, the command automatic and weak.
“I’m not,” Sunghoon said, holding up his translucent hands. He took another step, crouching down to bring himself eye-level with Jake, who recoiled. “But see? Now you believe. Now we can all play together properly. No more misunderstandings.”
Jake’s breathing was a series of sharp, panicked inhalations. He was looking at a ghost, a real ghost, in his kitchen, discussing shared orgasms.
Sunghoon’s smile turned intimate, conspiratorial. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe without the pills. Now that we’ve broken the ice, you know?” He paused. “Or, you know. Now that I’ve broken you in.”
He straightened up, winked at you, and then his form simply unraveled, dissipating like smoke in a draft until the space by the counter was empty.
summary: you had jake had a rule. he had total control over your panties. you wear what he asks you to and you show him whenever he asks. these are the 5 seperate times jake enforces this rule, and the one time you disobey it, which leads to your most intense punishment yet.
tags/content: smut, 18+, daddy kink, dom (daddy) jake and sub reader, established bdsm dynamic, public play that gets more intense with each scenario (fifth scenario is basically just public nudity but it’s in secluded area), exhibitionism, flashing, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, oral (f! recieving), jake eats you out while hiding under the restaurant table, pussy spanking, belting, reader tells him to stop once during the punishment scene but he ignores it so mild dubcon, they’re just freaked out in this one but nobody ever catches them don’t worry
⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔
One.
Jake's hand was on the small of your back, guiding you through the mall with an unshakeable certainty. He looked utterly at ease. A man browsing with his partner on a lazy afternoon. He'd been talking about this for days. It was his college roommate's wedding next Saturday at some country club venue an hour outside the city. This was the kind of event where appearances mattered. You’d be meeting his friends and their wives and girlfriends, all of them sizing you up over champagne.
"You need something appropriate," he'd said that morning, like you were a problem to be solved. "Something that shows you're with me."
He'd already vetoed the three dresses hanging in your closet. Too casual. Too short. Wrong color. So here you were being steered through the weekend crowds like a child. His palm warm and possessive against your lower back.
He slowed in front of a boutique with mannequins posed in silk and linen. The price tags are all discreetly tucked away, a dead giveaway away that this was the kind of store where everything cost more than your weekly paycheck.
"Let's find you something for next weekend," he said, his tone leaving no room for discussion. His fingers pressed just slightly harder, guiding you toward the entrance. "Something elegant. You want to make a good impression, don't you?"
A sales associate in an impeccably tailored blazer glided over, her smile polished and practiced. "Welcome. Can I help you find anything today?"
"She needs something for a wedding," Jake said before you could open your mouth. His voice was warm and friendly, suggesting easy money and good taste. He squeezed your hip, a silent command wrapped in affection. "Something elegant but not too flashy. Cocktail length maybe. She wants to look put together."
The associate's eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, then back to Jake. She nodded as if this were completely normal. "Of course. What kind of wedding? Afternoon or evening?"
You opened your mouth to answer but Jake was already speaking. "Afternoon reception," he said smoothly. "Country club. You know the type."
"Absolutely." Her smile brightened with understanding, still directed at him. "I have some beautiful options. Midi dresses, some lovely sheaths. Classic silhouettes that photograph well." She gestured toward the back of the store where racks of dresses hung in soft lighting.
She finally turned to you with professional warmth. "And what colors do you typically wear?"
"She looks best in jewel tones," Jake answered, his hand sliding from your hip to the small of your back. "Emerald, sapphire. Nothing too pale. It washes her out."
The associate nodded again without missing a beat, as though men answering for their partners was simply part of the transaction here. As though you were an object being appraised and accessorized rather than a person with your own voice. "Wonderful. Let me pull a few pieces. Sizes?"
Your cheeks burned. You managed to give her your sizes, your voice smaller than you intended.
The associate returned, her arms laden with five dresses in total. Deep emerald silk, navy crepe, a dusty sapphire with cap sleeves, charcoal gray with delicate beading, and a red dress that seemed to glow even on the hanger. "The fitting rooms are just this way," she said, leading you towards a curtained corridor. Jake moved to follow you, his presence a shadow at your back.
"Sir," the associate said, turning with a polite but firm smile. She placed a gentle hand on the curtain. "I'm afraid we only allow one person per fitting room. Store policy." She gave a light, conspiratorial laugh. "To prevent any, well, inappropriate behavior. Not that you seem the type, of course."
Jake stopped. He looked at her, then at you, his expression unreadable. He let out a long, measured sigh, the picture of a slightly inconvenienced gentleman. Oh, if only she knew. "Of course," he said, his voice smooth. "Understandable."
Jake leaned against a nearby pillar, pulling out his phone as if to check messages. His eyes, however, remained fixed on you.
"Go on, sweetheart," he said, his tone casual. "Try everything on. I want to see the full look." His gaze hardened imperceptibly.
"Take your time," the associate said with that same professional smile before pulling the curtain closed.
You tried on the emerald first. It fit well, skimmed your body in all the right places. You stepped out to show Jake. He was sitting on the bench outside the fitting rooms, legs crossed, looking every bit the patient boyfriend. His eyes moved over you with careful assessment.
"Beautiful," he said. "Turn around."
You did, slowly.
"Yes. That works. Try the next one."
The navy was equally flattering. So was the sapphire. Each time you emerged he gave the same approving nod, the same measured compliments. He was playing a part and playing it well. He looked like a doting partner helping his girlfriend shop, nothing more.
Then you slipped into the red dress.
It was different from the others, a deeper crimson that was almost wine colored. The neckline was modest but the fabric clung to your curves with an almost indecent precision. It made your skin look luminous. You looked like something valuable and dangerous all at once.
You stepped out of the fitting room and Jake's entire demeanor shifted.
His eyes turned hungry. He stood immediately, crossing the small distance between you in two strides. His hands found your hips and gripped hard, pulling you flush against him.
"Holy shit," he breathed, his voice low and rough. His fingers dug into the fabric, into your skin beneath it. "Look at you."
Your breath caught. Heat flooded through you despite everything. Despite where you were, despite the wrongness of it all.
He stared at you like he wanted to devour you right there in the middle of the store.
The associate's polite cough shattered the moment.
Jake blinked. He released you, stepping back smoothly as if nothing had happened. When he turned to face the associate his expression was pleasant again. That easy charming smile back in place. "We'll take all of them," he said, his tone casual and generous.
The associate's eyebrows lifted slightly. "All five?"
"All five." He pulled out his wallet, already reaching for his card. "She can't decide and they all look stunning. No point making her choose."
"Of course." The associate beamed, clearly pleased with the sale. "I'll ring these up for you at the front. Take your time changing."
She gathered the other dresses from the fitting room and disappeared toward the register, heels clicking against the polished floor.
The moment she was gone, Jake's hand was on you again. His fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you back toward him. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Change back into your regular clothes. And take off your panties while you're there. Slip them into my pocket when you come back out.”
You bite your lip nervously, glancing over at the sales associate who was none the wiser.
Jake presses a quick kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, she won’t know. Just be careful. Daddy’s got you.”
With one final pat on your ass, he spins you around and gently pushes you back to the fitting room.
Back inside the curtained room, the plush carpet was soft under your bare feet. Your hands trembled as you gathered the crimson silk, peeling it up your body. The cool air kissed your skin. You stepped out of your simple cotton panties and folded them into a small, neat square.
Emerging, you found him waiting, his back to you as he examined a display of scarves. You slipped the cotton square into the pocket of his tailored trousers. Your fingers brushed the hard line of his thigh through the fine wool. He didn’t react, but you felt the muscle tense under your touch.
“All set?” he asked, not turning.
“Yes Daddy.”
He finally looked at you, his eyes dropping to the way your thighs subtly clenched together. “Good. Let’s go.”
Two.
The first pale light of dawn bled around the edges of the bedroom blinds, striping the rumpled sheets in grey and gold. You'd moved quietly through the morning routine, careful not to wake Jake.
You were almost to the door, keys already in hand and thinking about meeting the girls for breakfast, when an arm snaked around your waist from behind.
You gasped softly as Jake pulled you back against his chest. His other hand came up to gently turn your face toward him, thumb brushing along your jaw.
"Sneaking out?" His voice was rough with sleep, breath warm against your ear. Your breath hitched. He didn’t wait for an answer. His hand on your waist moved, hiking up the soft cotton of your skirt. The morning air kissed the backs of your thighs. “You didn’t forget the rules, did you? Let Daddy see what you’re wearing under this skirt.”
His hand slid down over your hip. The lace of your panties was a flimsy barrier. He grunted as his thick fingers found you already soaked through the fabric. “Fuck. Already wet for me? Before coffee?”
You whimpered, pushing back against him. He answered by dragging the lace aside, roughly, the edge biting into your skin for a second before his fingers were on you. He rubbed your clit in a slow, deliberate circle that made your knees buckle. His hand at your throat moved to your waist to hold you upright.
“Talk to me,” he commanded, his fingers still moving with that infuriating pressure.
“Daddy…” you breathed, the word dissolving into a moan as he pushed two fingers inside you without warning. They slid in easily, your body welcoming them. He curled them, finding the spot that made your vision blur.
“Were you going to walk around all day with this sweet little cunt dripping for me, and I wouldn’t even know? Hmm?” he asked, completely ignoring your protests. He pumped his fingers, scissoring them. The obscene, wet sound filled the quiet room. “You know the rules. I know everything. I decide when you get wet. I decide when you come.”
He withdrew his fingers, bringing them to your lips, slick and shining in the dim light. “Taste it.”
You opened your mouth, your tongue licking over his skin, tasting your own salt and musk. His eyes, dark and hungry, watched you do it. Then he spun you around, your back hitting the wall again. He kissed you, deep and possessive, his tongue claiming your mouth with the same authority his fingers had just claimed your body. You could taste yourself on him.
His hand slid back down your body, fingers digging into the meat of your thigh as he hitched your leg up around his hip. The soft material of his sweatpants pressed against your inner thigh, a thrilling contrast to the bare skin he exposed. His cock was a hard line against your stomach through his pants.
“Jake,” you breathed, breaking the kiss, your head swimming. “I’m gonna be late.”
“How late?” he murmured against your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin before his mouth moved to suck a dark mark at the base of your throat. His hand was back between your legs, his thumb rubbing your clit while two fingers slid in and out of you with a steady, maddening rhythm.
“Very. We're supposed to meet at nine thirty.”
“So you have twenty-five minutes,” he said, his voice all reason and heat. He pushed his fingers even deeper. Your hips jerked. “That’s enough. That’s all I need. Let me fuck you. Just a quickie. I need to feel you come on my cock before you go.”
He was convincing. His words, the expert motion of his hand, the solid weight of him holding you up. It all conspired to liquefy your resolve. You could already picture it, the frantic sex fueling your day. Your nails bit into his shoulders.
“Just a quickie,” you whispered, surrendering.
A pleased sound rumbled from his chest. He puts in a third finger, celebrating. “Good girl.”
You gasped softly, your free hand grabbing his wrist as his finger eased inside your sensitive, well-used flesh.
Your phone erupted into a shrill, buzzing dance. Jake didn’t stop. His fingers inside you sped up, a wicked promise. His other hand left your thigh and snagged the phone, pressing it into your free hand. His eyes held yours, a dark command in them. “Answer it.”
“Wha-?”
“Answer. Put it on speaker. Don’t you dare stop moving on my hand.” To emphasize his point, the heel of his palm grinded against your clit. A ragged moan tore from your throat. He nodded, a cruel smirk on his face. “Now.”
With trembling fingers, you swiped to answer, hitting the speaker button. Your voice was a strained octave too high. “Hello?”
“Hey! Are you on your way?” It was Minji. Her voice was bright and sunny, oblivious to the violation happening on the other end of the line. “We’re all deciding between lattes and matcha and need a tie-breaker. You’re closer, can you swing by and pick up me and Heejo? Her car broke down and now we’re stranded at her apartment.”
Jake’s fingers continued massaging your insides slowly. His other hand went to his own pants. He pushed his sweats and boxers down just enough, freeing himself. His cock sprang free, nudging against your inner thigh. He positioned himself, the blunt head pressing against your soaked entrance.
You choked back a sound. “I, uh… yeah. Probably. Give me… twenty?”
“Perfect! You’re the best!” Minji chirped. “See you soon! Drive safe!”
“Yep. Bye.” You ended the call, the phone slipping from your sweaty hand to thud onto the carpet.
Jake let out a long, slow sigh, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. The promise of his cock, right there but not moving, was its own exquisite torture. “Brunch,” he muttered, the word a curse.
He pushed the thick crown of him inside before pausing, stretching you open, with just the tip. He held there, his breath hot on your lips. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want Daddy to fuck you full, so you walk in there with my cum leaking out of you.”
“Yes,” you hissed, arching, trying to take more of him. “Please, Daddy. Please, I need it.”
“That’s my girl.” He gritted out as he sunk deeper into your heat. “Fucking perfect.”
He started moving, setting a frantic pace right off the bat, motivated by the twenty five minute timer over his head. The force of his thrusts knocked a choked cry from you each time.
“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice ragged.
Your eyes, which had squeezed shut, flew open. His gaze was locked on yours, watching every flicker of pleasure and overwhelm on your face. It was unnerving, this raw intimacy. There was no hiding from him.
“This is what you are,” he grunted, his thrusts became shorter as he aimed deeper. “My good little hole. Taking my cock like you were made for it.”
One hand gripped the back of your thigh, holding you open, while the other braced against the wall by your head. Each slam of his hips against yours sent a jolt of pure, electric need through your core. The sound was filthy: skin on skin, the wet, rhythmic slide of him fucking into you, your own broken whimpers. You could smell the sex in the air, mixed with the faint, forgotten scent of coffee.
“Daddy! I’m gonna-”
“Not yet.” His command was absolute, even as his own rhythm began to fracture. Sweat glistened on his temple. “You come when I tell you. When I’m ready to fill this greedy cunt up.” He shifted his angle, plunging so deep you saw stars. “You want that? You want me to come inside you? Mark you?”
“Yes! Fuck, yes, please!”
“Then come.”
It was an order. Your body, trained to his voice, obeyed. The climax tore through you, violent and all-consuming. A raw, broken scream ripped from your throat, muffled against his shoulder as you buried your face in his neck.
The feel of you pulsing around him shattered his control. He drove into you one last time, his body going rigid. You felt the hot spill of his release deep inside, making you moan softly at the warmth.
Slowly, he softened and slipped from you. A sticky warmth trickled down your inner thigh. He pressed a kiss, surprisingly soft, to your sweaty temple. His finger dipped back inside briefly to push the cum back inside you before tugging your panties back up. He gives you a light slap over the fabric just to hear you squeal, patting your clothed pussy like he was about to send a package out for delivery. You could tell the feeling of his cum seeping into your panties later would bother you, which gave you all the more reason to clench around the pool of his sperm inside your core.
“Go to brunch,” he murmured, his voice husky. He stepped back, tucking himself away. He glanced at the clock. “You’ve got twelve minutes.”
Three.
The scent of expensive leather and Jake’s cologne filled your nose. Outside, the city dissolved into streaks of halogen white and neon red, a river of light flowing past the tinted windows. Your silk cocktail dress whispered against the passenger seat as you shifted.
His left hand rested on the wheel. His right lay casually on your thigh, just above the knee. His thumb stroked absent circles on the inner seam of your dress, a millimeter from touching bare skin. The heat of his palm bled through the thin fabric.
“You're quiet tonight,” Jake observed, his voice a low rumble that merged with the engine’s purr.
His hand slid higher, an inch, the rough pad of his thumb finding the hem of your dress. Your breath hitched. He smiled without turning, gaze steady on the road ahead. The car pushed through a yellow light, the acceleration pressing you back against your seat. His fingers slipped beneath the silk, touching bare skin.
“Still following my rules from this afternoon?” he asked, his tone conversational. His knuckles dragged along the crease of your thigh, slow and deliberate. You knew what he meant.
“Yes,” you whispered.
“Good.” His fingertips traced higher. They found the damp lace edge of what you’d put on for dinner. He made a soft chiding sound. “This is in the way.”
With a deft twist of his wrist, he hooked a finger under the elastic and snapped it hard against your skin. The sharp sting made you jump. “Should have known better.”
Before you could form a thought, his hand was moving again, pushing the fabric aside entirely. The cool air from the vents hit your exposed skin, raising goosebumps. His whole hand cupped you, a groan of pure appreciation leaving his lips.
“Fuck. You’re dripping.” He said it like a fact, a satisfying piece of data.
He let the car coast, his focus divided between the traffic and the wet heat under his hand. A finger, blunt and unyielding, pressed at your entrance. It circled, spreading your own slickness, before pushing slowly inside to the first knuckle. You gasped, your hips lifting involuntarily off the seat. The seatbelt locked, holding you down.
“Stay still,” he commanded, his voice losing its casual edge. He pushed his finger deeper, then added a second. The stretch was immediate, a breathtaking fullness. He began to move them, a slow, deliberate fuck with his hand. Your head fell back against the headrest.
City lights strobed across his concentrated face. He worked you with a focused rhythm, his thumb finding your clit on each inward stroke. The pressure built, a coil tightening low in your belly. Cars passed. You were utterly exposed in the glass cage of the luxury sedan, yet completely hidden.
“You’ll remember I owned you in the middle of all those people in the restaurant,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside you.
He pumped faster now, the heel of his hand grinding against you with each thrust. The sounds were obscene, wet and rhythmic, drowned out by the classical music he’d turned low. Your knuckles were white on the door handle. Pleasure began to arc up your spine.
“Daddy please, ‘m close.”
“Not yet.” He withdrew his fingers completely.
The empty feeling was a physical pain. You whimpered, a raw sound of loss. He brought his glistening fingers to his lips, never taking his eyes off the road, and sucked them clean. The vulgar intimacy of the act sent a fresh shock through you. His fingers dipped under your dress again, just a quick swipe to gather up the remaining wetness between your folds.
“Taste yourself,” he ordered, holding his wet fingers to your mouth.
You opened your mouth without hesitation, your tongue swiping over his index finger first. The taste was musky and sharp. You closed your lips around his fingers, sucking gently, cleaning them with such thorough devotion his jaw tightened.
You licked his fingers clean, your eyes locked on his profile in the dashboard’s glow. Once there was no more of your juices on him, he put his hand back on your inner thigh, letting his pinky occasionally brush against your clit just to rile you up. You occasionally grinded your hips against his hand, unable to resist the friction. Every time, he tutted and pulled his hand away, only placing it back on your inner thigh once you've stopped squirming.
Four.
The restaurant door was a massive thing of dark oak and polished brass. A uniformed attendant pulled it open, releasing a wave of sound: the clink of crystal, the low murmur of well-heeled conversation, the distant chords of a jazz trio. The air smelled of roasted meat and expensive wine.
You walked in with the memory of his fingers inside you a phantom presence with every step. The damp silk of your dress whispered against your thighs like a secret reminder. Jake’s hand settled on the small of your back, a proprietary gesture that looked courtly to anyone watching. It felt like a brand.
“Mr. Sim,” the waiter said, his smile practiced and flawless. “Your table is ready.”
He led you through a labyrinth of white-clothed tables, until you finally reached a table tucked in the back of the restaurant. Jake pulled out your chair, his body briefly sheltering you from the room. As you sat, the cool leather of the seat met your bare skin beneath the dress.
“Remember,” he murmured before taking his own seat across from you.
The dinner unfolded with a strange, dual-track normality. A waiter poured mineral water. Menus were presented, heavy and embossed. Jake asked about your day, his tone light. You answered, diving into small talk about work. Your voices were calm, pleasant masks over the throbbing reality between your legs.
You took a sip of wine, the tannins sharp on your tongue. You spread warm brioche with cold butter, the textures mundane and jarring. All the while, the space beneath the table felt charged, a dark theatre. You kept your knees apart as he instructed earlier. The open stance feeling obscenely wide in the civilized setting.
When the appetizers arrived, he leaned forward slightly. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice dropping so only you could hear. “Knowing you’re sitting here, in this nice place, with your cunt wet and waiting for me? That everyone sees a lady but I see my dirty girl?”
Jake’s eyes tracked over the neckline of your dress. His gaze was a physical touch. A shudder wracked you. You couldn’t answer. He smiled and sat back, taking a bite of his food.
The main courses arrived. You cut into a filet, the meat perfectly medium-rare. Jake discussed a recent business deal, his fingers idly tracing the stem of his wineglass. Then, as you reached for your water glass, his napkin slipped from his lap.
It fluttered to the floor between his feet.
“Ah,” he said, a note of mild annoyance in his voice. He didn’t look at you. He began to shift in his chair, bending at the waist. “Clumsy of me.”
His head dipped below the level of the tablecloth. From the view of the room, he was simply retrieving a fallen napkin. Your breath hitched. You knew what was coming.
Under the cover of the long, heavy linen, his hand found your knee. His fingers trailed up your inner thigh. His other hand was braced on his own knee, maintaining the plausible pretense. His head was down there for a beat too long before he crawled under the tablecloth.
Then his voice drifted up from beneath the table, muffled. “Lift the dress.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. You glanced around cautiously. The nearest diners were engrossed in their own meals. With a tremor in your hands, you gathered the silk of your dress. You inched it up, exposing your core to the shadowed space below.
You felt his stare. It was a physical heat on your most intimate skin.
“Higher,” his voice commanded, a rough whisper in the dark. “And spread your legs. Show me everything.”
You obeyed, a tremor running through your thighs as you let them fall open wider. The cool air from beneath the table washed over you. Then you felt his hands hook into the sides of your lace panties. You shifted, lifting your hips to help him guide them down.
The lace pooled around your ankles. You felt him gather them. There was a soft rustle as he tucked your soaked underwear into his suit jacket pocket. His breath hit your exposed skin, warm and startling.
Then his mouth was on you.
You jerked, your hand flying to the table’s edge for stability. A choked gasp escaped before you could swallow it. His tongue was flat against your clit, laving through your folds with a precision that stole the air from your lungs. He worked you with a focused rhythm, his hands gripping your hips to hold you still against the chair.
Your vision swam. The obscene sound of his mouth on you seemed way too loud over the noise of background conversations. He fucked you with his tongue before returning to circle your clit. Your fist clenches the white tablecloth as more pleasure begins pooling in your core. You cover your mouth with your free hand, doing your best to muffle your moans.
You were balancing on a knife’s edge, your whole body taut, when a shadow fell across the table. You looked up, dazed. The waiter stood there, holding a silver pepper mill. “Everything to your satisfaction so far?” he asked, his voice politely modulated.
Your mind blanked. Jake’s tongue dipped back inside you, giving you a quick flick. You swallowed a moan. “Y-yes,” you managed, your voice strangled. “Perfect.”
The waiter’s eyes flicked to the empty chair. “Will your companion be returning?”
“He’s in the restroom,” you blurted, the lie too quick and voice pitched high. Beneath the table, Jake’s mouth never stopped. His tongue lapped at your clit with a relentless pressure that blurred your vision. The waiter nodded, a slow, uncertain dip of his chin.
You felt a shift in the dark space below. Jake’s mouth withdrew for a searing second. Then the blunt pressure of his finger, slick with your own arousal and his saliva, pushed against your entrance. He slid a single finger deep inside you, instantly curling it to find that perfect, devastating spot.
A moan ripped from your throat, halfway to a choked sob. You convulsed around his finger, your hips lifting off the chair. The waiter’s eyes widened a fraction. “Are you quite alright, madam?” he asked, his professionalism warring with clear concern.
“Water!” you gasped, the word strangled. You clenched around the invading finger, your body betraying you with a fresh gush of wetness. “Another bottle of water. Please. Just… leave it on the table.”
The waiter retreated, his steps hushed on the carpet. The moment he turned, Jake added a second finger. He fucked you with them, thrusting them sloppily. His tongue was back on your clit, licking and sucking in time with his thrusting fingers.
The dual assault was merciless. You were seconds away, the adrenaline from almost getting caught making you tumble towards orgasm faster than ever. You were going to scream.
Then, he stopped.
His mouth lifted away. His fingers slid out with a wet squelch . Your cunt clenched, as if trying to grip his fingers inside. You whimpered out a pathetic desperate sound. There was an incomplete throbbing in your empty cunt.
You heard the rustle of his suit, saw the motion from the corner of your watering eyes. Jake rose smoothly from beneath the tablecloth, appearing beside his chair as if he’d simply stood up. He didn’t look at you. He sat down, adjusted his cuffs, and took a sip of his wine.
His expression was one of mild interest in the jazz trio. A faint sheen glistened on his lower lip. He dabbed it with his napkin, a slow, deliberate gesture. The waiter arrived with the water, placing it silently and vanishing again.
Only then did Jake’s eyes slide to yours. “Enjoy your steak,” he said, his voice casual. He cut into his own meat, the knife scraping the plate. “It’s excellent.”
You sat there trembling. The promised release was a trapped animal inside you, clawing at your ribs. The soaked silk of your dress was plastered to your thighs. Every particle of your being was focused on the brutal, unfinished throbbing between your legs.
You stared at your plate, the food now a nauseating object. The conversation from other tables washed over you, meaningless noise.
The walk back through the restaurant felt longer. You were hyper-aware of the potential damp spot on your dress. The valet brought the car around. Jake opened your door for you, a perfect gentleman.
The drive home was even worse. He doesn’t touch you at all, both hands planted firmly on the wheel. Only when the two of you are parked safely in your garage did he lean over.
His fingers pushed the silk up your legs, bunching it at your waist. He looked down at you, exposed in the dim light from the parking structure. “Such a good girl for me.”
He leaned across the center console, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was all possession. It was deep and hungry, his tongue mapping the territory he owned.
His kiss trailed down your neck to your collarbone. He pushed the top of your dress down, the silk catching on your nipples before freeing them. His mouth closed over one, sucking hard as his teeth grazing the peak. You cried out, your hands fisting in his hair.
“Quiet,” he murmured against your skin, his hot breath raising more goosebumps. “We’re not alone out here.”
You two were, but he knew that even an imaginary risk of getting caught drove you wild. He moved to your other breast, giving it the same ruthless attention. His hand was between your legs again, no longer teasing. Two fingers plunged back inside you, and you choked on a sob. You were so sensitive, wound tight with desperation.
“This is what you needed all along, wasn’t it?” he growled, his fingers pumping. “This deep, hard fuck.”
He released you, sitting back to unbuckle his belt. “Get over here.”
You climbed over the center console. The movement was awkward in the confined space, your knee knocking the gear shift. You settled into his lap with your thighs on either side of his. The rough weave of his suit trousers scraped your inner thighs. His erection was a hard line beneath the fine wool, pressing insistently against your naked core.
He didn’t touch you. He just looked at you, his hands resting on the steering wheel behind you. “You’re a mess,” he observed, his gaze traveling down your body. “What do you need?”
“You,” you whispered, the word raw and cracked.
“How?”
“I need you to fuck me. Please, Jake. Daddy. I need to come. I can’t… I can’t think.”
He nodded slowly, as if he was assessing how satisfactory your begging was. With one hand, he unzipped his trousers to free his cock. He positioned it at your entrance, holding himself steady. He still didn’t touch your hips.
“Then take it,” he said. “Take what you need. Ride me. Fuck yourself on my cock until you’re not a mess anymore.”
You sank down on it slowly, moaning at the stretch.
“That’s it,” he gritted out, his head thrown back against the headrest. “Use my cock. Fucking use it to fix yourself. You look so goddamn greedy.”
He let you set the pace for three agonizingly slow strokes, his eyes burning up at you. Then he took over. His hands gripped your hips for leverage, using them to slam you down onto him, driving himself up into you. The car seat groaned. Your head thumped back against the window. You were just a vessel for his pleasure.
He fucked up into you with a focused fury, claiming the frustration of the entire evening with each thrust. Your cries were muffled against his shoulder. There were several bite marks in the fabric of his jacket as a result of particularly rougher trusts.
“Tell me who you belong to,” he gritted out, his breath hot in your ear.
“You. Daddy. Only you. I’m yours. Your cunt. Your good girl.”
“And what’s this cunt for?” He shifted to angle himself deeper, hitting a spot that made you see white.
“For you! For your cock!” You came without warning, trembling as you finally got your first orgasm of the night.
Feeling you clamp down on him, his control snapped. With a final, guttural groan, he drove up and held you down, his own release pumping into you in hot waves. You felt the liquid heat of it, another claiming to carry home.
You collapsed against him, spent, boneless. His arms came around you, holding you in place as you both shuddered through the aftershocks.
He slowly softened inside you. He ran a hand down your sweat-damp spine. “There,” he murmured into your hair. “Now you’re not a mess. Now you’re just mine.”
Five.
You’re walking home, the afternoon sun muted behind a layer of clouds. The downtown crowds had thinned. You felt a restless ache, the kind no casual touch could fix. Your phone buzzed in your hand as if on cue. A video call request. Jake.
You answered, your heart doing a quick flip. His face filled the screen, backlit by his computer monitor. “Hey. Where are you?”
“Walking home. Just passed the convenience store.”
“Turn left at the next stop light,” he instructed.
“That’s the long way. It’s empty down there.”
“I know. Turn left.”
A shiver trilled up your spine. You obeyed, your heels clicking on the pavement as you left the main drag. The side street was lined with old warehouses, most converted to galleries that were closed on Sundays. It was quiet and still. Your steps echoed.
“Better,” he murmured. The sound of his voice was intimate in your ear through the headphones. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. About how you clenched around me. You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?”
You swallowed. “Yes.”
“I want to see.”
The request hung in the air, simple yet enormous. “Jake… I’m on the street.”
“It’s secluded. Point the camera down. Let me see the skirt. The one you wore to lunch.”
Your hand trembled as you switched the camera view, pointing the phone’s lens down the front of your body. The simple denim skirt now felt like a costume.
“Good. Put the camera in between your legs.”
Breath catching, you fumbled with the camera. You spread your legs subtly, quickly letting your camera dip in between your thighs before lifting it back up again.
“Slower,” he commanded. His voice dropped to that low, hypnotic register that would've made you obey no matter what. “I want to see the pretty lace I picked out.”
A car alarm sounded in the distant next block. Your pulse hammered in your ears, louder. You shift, one hand lifting up your skirt while the other angles the camera down so he can get a proper look.
“There she is.” You heard the smile in his voice, a possessive curl of sound. “My beautiful girl. Now, touch yourself. Over the lace. Tell me how wet you are for me.”
“Someone could come,” you whispered, even as your hand drifted down.
“Then you’ll have to be quiet. Do it.”
You let your head fall back, the phone now angled awkwardly to capture the frantic rise and fall of your chest. You pressed your palm against the center of the lace panties. A soft moan escaped you. Soaked already.
“Tell me.” His voice was rough.
“I’m… it’s soaked, Daddy. Just thinking about you.”
“I know. Now pull them aside. I want to see.”
This was the line. The true exposure. Your eyes darted to the far end of the empty street. The silence was terrifying. With a shaky finger, you hooked the elastic of the lace and dragged it to the side, exposing yourself to the cool air and the unblinking eye of the camera.
There was a sharp inhale from his end. “God, look at that. Perfect. Now rub your clit. Make yourself fuck that pretty little pussy with your fingers for me. I want to watch you get messy.”
You obeyed, two fingers sliding through your own slickness, finding the swollen bud. A gasp tore from your throat. You bit your lip, your eyes squeezing shut as pleasure danced through you. The obscenity of it was the point. The public street, the secret act, his watchful gaze beamed from miles away.
“Look at me. Watch me watching you.”
You forced your eyes open, looking at his face on the screen. He was leaning close to his camera, his expression one of rapt, intense hunger. It fueled you, that look. Your fingers moved faster, delving deeper as a third one joined.
“You wish this was my cock, don’t you?” he growled. “Wish I was there to pin you against that brick wall and fuck you raw in the open. You’re such a filthy thing. A desperate, filthy thing for me.”
“Yes,” you chanted, your hips working against your hand. “Yes, Daddy, please…”
“Come for me. Right now. On my command. Come.”
His voice was the final trigger. The orgasm ripped through you. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back a step, catching yourself against the cool metal of a light post. You slumped against it, fingers still buried inside yourself. The phone was clutched uselessly in your other hand.
“Good girl. Now walk home. And leave the panties off. I want you to feel every step.”
The call ended. The screen went dark.
You stood there, trembling, exposed to the empty city. Slowly, you tugged the lace down your thighs, stepped out of them, and shoved the damp fabric into your purse.
+1.
This morning flashed through your memory. He emerged from the shower with the towel around his waist and water still beading on his shoulders. "Wear the black lace ones today," he'd said casually, nodding toward your underwear drawer. "The ones I got you last week."
You'd nodded, said okay daddy like a good girl. But when you'd gotten dressed, you'd looked at the delicate black lace laid out on the bed and thought about your low rise jeans. The lace always peeked out over the waistband, visible and uncomfortable. It would dig into your hips all day. So you'd left them there and pulled on your jeans with nothing underneath instead.
It was a small act of rebellion your body had performed on autopilot.
Now a knot of cold dread tightened in your stomach.
The supermarket was a mess of fluorescent light and overheard conversations about coupons. You moved through the aisles like a ghost, mechanically grabbing bread, eggs, produce. Pasta sauce, the kind he liked. Your mind was elsewhere, drifting back to the quiet house and the man inside it. The rule you'd broken without meaning to.
The denim of your jeans felt abrasive against your bare skin, serving as a constant whispering reminder of your exposed state. Every step toward the checkout made it worse. What would you say when you got back? Would he ask? Would he check?
You carried the bags into the quiet house twenty minutes later. No sound of a conference call echoed from his office, just the low hum of the refrigerator. You set the bags on the kitchen island and began unpacking, the rustle of paper and clink of glass jarringly loud. Apples rolled into the fruit bowl. The milk carton thudded onto the shelf.
You were bending to place a soup can in the lower cabinet when you heard him.
His hands landed on your hips, rough and sudden. He pulled you upright, your back flush against his chest. One hand slid around your front, cupping your breast through your shirt and bra, squeezing possessively. His other hand went to the button of your jeans.
"You took your time," he grumbled into your hair, impatient. His fingers flicked the button open, dragged the zipper down.
His hand pushed inside, past the denim, seeking the lace he expected to find. His fingers met bare skin, damp from the heat of the store and your own anxious arousal. He stilled. His entire body went rigid against your back.
He shoved his hand deeper, a rough, probing search. It was undeniable. You were completely bare. His fingers slid through your slick folds. He let out a hard, frustrated huff against your neck, his breath hot with instant irritation.
"Where are they?" His voice was dangerous. He curled two fingers inside you without preamble. "The black lace. I told you to wear them."
You gasped, your hands splaying on the cool granite of the countertop for support. "I- I forgot."
"You forgot," He repeated the words slowly, digging his fingers deeper to stretch you. "You don't get to forget my rules." He began to fuck you with his hand, palm grinding against your clit with each thrust. "Your cunt knows the rules. It's wet. It remembers. Why doesn't your head?"
You couldn't answer. Pleasure cut through you, betrayal responding to his angry touch. You felt the wet, slick sounds his hand made. You were leaning over the grocery bags, a tomato threatening to roll onto the floor.
"You disobeyed a direct instruction." He withdrew his fingers. You whimpered at the loss.
His grip on your hip tightened, a warning. "Go to the bedroom. Strip naked. Kneel at the foot of the bed and wait." His voice was cold, devoid of the heat from moments before. "I'll unpack the groceries. Then I'm coming back to punish you."
He removed his hand, pulling your zipper up with a sharp sound. He turned you around to face him. His expression was closed, a mask of disciplinary focus. "This isn't a game. You forgot. That means you didn't care enough to remember. We're going to fix that."
You walked down the hall, your legs unsteady. The bedroom was dim, curtains drawn against the afternoon sun. You followed his command precisely, undressing slowly. Each piece of clothing that you took off felt like a layer of protection being surrendered. You knelt on the rug, the dense fibers pressing into your shins. You kept your back straight, hands on your thighs and gaze fixed on the rumpled duvet like he had trained you to.
You waited.
The silence after the kitchen sounds ceased was absolute. Then, footsteps in the hall. They were unhurried. He appeared in the doorway. He had removed his watch, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes scanned your kneeling form.
"Hands and knees on the bed," he said. His tone was instructional, cold. "Arch your back. Present yourself."
You moved to obey, the mattress dipping under your weight. The cool cotton of the duvet cover met your palms and knees. You lowered your head, pushing your ass into the air behind you. The position was one of total vulnerability, leaving your cunt exposed. You heard him move closer and felt his weight settle on the edge of the mattress beside you.
His hand came to rest on the small of your back, a heavy weight. "You will count," he stated. His other hand smoothed over the curve of your ass. "You will thank me for each one. Do you understand?"
"Yes," you whispered into the bedding.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Daddy."
"Good." His hand lifted.
The first spank landed not on your ass, but directly on your swollen, exposed cunt.
The pain was instant. A sharp, stinging crack that echoed through your entire pelvis. You cried out, your body jerking forward.
"Count," he commanded, his voice unwavering. “Or we’ll start over.”
"One," you gasped. "Thank you, Daddy."
His hand came down again in the exact same place. The pain flared, white-hot, blending with a bizarre, creeping heat. Your cunt, already sensitive and wet, throbbed violently. The shock of it stole your breath.
"Two. Thank you, Daddy."
The third spank landed, his palm connecting firmly with your outer lips, the sound wetter now. The sting was breathtaking, a bright line of agony that made your eyes water. Yet, beneath it, a low pulse of arousal began to beat in time with the pain. Your body was betraying you, reacting to the brutal attention.
"Three. Thank you, Daddy."
He paused. His fingers traced the burning skin he’d just punished. You were dripping, your wetness slicking your inner thighs.
"See how your filthy cunt responds?" he muttered, his voice thick with a dark satisfaction. "It knows it deserves this. It's getting what it craves."
The fourth spank was harder. You choked on your count, a sob breaking through. "Four. Th-thank you, Daddy."
"You forgot my rule." Spank. "Didn’t even wear a different pair of panties." Spank. "You don't get to act like a slut without being treated like one." Spank.
You lost count. The world narrowed to the erupting pain between your legs, the wet sounds of his hand striking your most intimate flesh, and the broken mantra of "thank you, Daddy" falling from your lips. Tears streaked your face, soaking into the duvet. Your cunt was on fire, a swollen, throbbing center of overwhelming sensation.
He stopped. Your body shuddered, wracked with sobs. His fingers were there immediately, probing the hot, swollen flesh. He pushed two fingers inside you, and your inner muscles clenched around them, a spastic, involuntary reaction.
"Look at this mess," he grunted, working his fingers in and out, the stretch exquisite against the soreness. "All this juice. My perfect, punished slut." He leaned over you, his mouth near your ear. "You took that so well. But we're not done."
He withdrew his fingers. You heard the rustle of his belt, the slow pull of leather through loops. Your heart hammered against your ribs.
"No, please," you breathed, the words escaping before you could stop them. He never belted you unless he was extremely angry. Having broken one of his most fundamental rules in a blatant display of disobedience, you could only guess how upset he was. Belting your ass already left you unable to sit for days. If he were to belt your sensitive cunt...
His hand pressed down on your back, holding you in place. "You don't say 'please' to stop this," he corrected, his voice low and steady. "You say 'please' for more. Use your safe word if you need to."
You swallowed, your throat raw. The throbbing between your legs was a mix of pain and a deep, insistent need. The line had vaporized. Not once did you think of redding out. "Please," you whispered, the word a confession. "Please, Daddy."
The first strike of the belt was a different world of pain. A searing line across your sensitized cunt and upper thighs. He didn't put as much force into it as he had with his previous spanks with his hand, but it stole the air from your lungs nonetheless. You screamed, your fingers clawing at the bedding.
"Count," he demanded, his voice hard. You couldn't. The pain was a white sheet, blanking your mind. The belt landed again, a parallel line of fire. "Count!"
"One!" you shrieked. "Thank you, Daddy!"
He delivered five more. Each one was agony, ripping a "thank you" sob from your chest. By the end, you were limp, held up only by his hand on your back. Your entire lower body was burning. You were crying openly, tears and saliva dampening the duvet.
He dropped the belt. It landed on the floor with a heavy thump. His hands were on you then, turning you over onto your back. He loomed over you, his own need evident in the hard line of his trousers. His eyes were fierce, triumphant. He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs.
"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rough. "All marked up. All mine." He unzipped his trousers, freeing his cock. He positioned himself between your trembling thighs, the head of his cock nudging against your sore entrance. "My good girl just needed a reminder."
“Breathe,” he commanded, his voice a low rumble. His hands were on your hips, thumbs digging into the soft skin of your belly. “You’re clenched shut like a fist. Breathe out.”
You sucked in a ragged, wet breath and let it shudder out. As you exhaled, he pushed forward, just an inch. The stretch made you cry out, your back arching off the bed.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his own control fraying at the edges. “You’re so fucking tight.” He held still, letting your body adjust to the brutal intrusion. His cock felt enormous inside you. “Look at you. Your cunt is gripping me like a vise. Like it's trying to apologize."
He pulled back almost completely, then surged forward again, gaining another torturous inch. Your muscles fluttered around him.
“That’s it,” he coaxed, his voice dropping to a hypnotic murmur. He leaned down, bracing his weight on his forearms. His lips brushed your ear. “Relax for me. Open up. Let Daddy in all the way. You can do it. You want to make me feel good, don't you?"
You nodded, a frantic little movement, tears still leaking from the corners of your eyes. You focused on the feel of him, the slight twitch of his cock inside you. You forced your walls to loosen.
“Good girl,” he breathed. He shifted his angle slightly and pushed.
This time, he slid deeper. The pain was still there, but beyond it, there was a devastating fullness. He buried himself to the hilt, his pelvis grinding against your tender flesh. You whimpered, oversensitive.
“Fuck, yes,” he hissed, his head dropping to your shoulder. He stayed there, fully sheathed. You could feel his heart hammering against your chest. “Feel that? That’s where you belong, stuffed full of me.”
He began to move, dragging his cock almost all the way out, then pushing back in with a deliberate grinding roll of his hips. Each stroke re-ignited the sting from the belt. Each withdrawal made you feel empty and desperate. The conflicting sensations were merging, becoming inseparable. The hurt and the pleasure were the same note, vibrating at a frequency that made your bones hum.
“You like that?” he growled, picking up his pace. His thrusts became harder, more assured. “You like being fucked sore? Being used right where I punished you?”
“Yes,” you gasped. It was the truth.
“Say it.”
“Yes, Daddy!”
“Louder.”
“Yes!” you screamed, as he slammed into a spot deep inside that made you see stars. Your orgasm ripped through you without warning. You thrashed beneath him, your cries dissolving into mindless sobs.
"That's it," He fucked you through it, his rhythm becoming brutal, punishing, chasing his own release. "Come on my cock like the good, sorry slut you are."
“Gonna fill you,” he grunted, his rhythm stuttering. He pressed as deep as he could go and held there. You felt the hot, pulsing release of his orgasm inside you, jet after jet of warmth flooding your core. He shuddered through it, groaning lowly.
He looked down at your tear-streaked face and your red-rimmed eyes. He brushed a strand of hair from your forehead.
"I know, baby, I know," he said quietly, wiping away your tears. "Breathe for me."
You tried. Stuttering inhales caught in your throat. He moved slowly, as if you were something fragile. He finally shifted, pulling out of you slowly. You winced at the sensitivity from the sudden emptiness. His arms came around you and held you close.
"You're okay," he murmured into your hair. "You did so well. It's over now."
The praise made something crack open inside you. Fresh tears spilled over and you pressed your face into his chest. He let you cry, one hand stroking your back in long soothing motions. The other cupped the back of your head, cradling you as you mumbled incoherently.
“‘m sorry daddy… I’ll be good, promise,” you whimper softly, clinging to him desperately. “‘m not a bad girl.”
“Shhh,” He shushed gently, carding his fingers through your hair. “You’re so good for me, baby. You’re never bad, just disobedient.”
After a while he reached for the bottle of water on the side table. "Drink," he said, bringing it to your lips. You obeyed without thinking, taking small sips while he held it steady. The cool liquid soothed your raw throat.
He set the water aside and gathered you close again. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your spine. "Tell me what you learned," he said softly.
Your voice came out hoarse and small. "To follow Daddy’s orders."
"That's right." He kissed the top of your head. "I don't punish you to be cruel. You understand that, don't you?"
You nodded against his chest.
"Say it."
"You don't punish me to be cruel."
"Good girl." His hand moved to your face, tilting it up so you had to meet his eyes. They were softer now, concerned. "I love you. This doesn't change that. Okay?"
"Okay," you whispered.
He studied your face for another moment, then reached for the blanket. He shifted you both so he was lying back and you were curled on top of him, your burning skin carefully positioned so nothing pressed against it. The blanket cocooned you in warmth.
His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. His hand never stopped moving, stroking your hair, your back, your arm. He was grounding you, bringing you back to yourself.
𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐄…박성훈 ︵ spring break always gets chaotic after midnight, so why not have a one night stand with a stranger?
content advisory: collegestudent!reader x ceo!sunghoon , hoon is older and rich , alcohol consumption , drunk sex (unprotected) , oral (m) , oral on the balcony lol , rough hoon , sub reader , dirty talk , praise!kink , biting , ass slapping , doggy , cowgirl , multiple orgasms , creampie , aftercare , mdni. 5872%
lena speaks: plot has been in my mind for everr, enjoy your spring break lovies and support heeseung always <3 ,
like and reblog for kisses !
The train screeched as it slowed, the sharp whistle cutting through the air before it finally came to a complete stop at Jeongdongjin. The sudden stillness made everyone shift in their seats, and within seconds the quiet carriage filled with movement. People stood, reaching up to grab their bags from the overhead racks, bumping shoulders and squeezing past one another as they hurried toward the exit. The narrow aisle quickly became crowded with travelers eager to get off after the long ride.
You and your group of friends stood shortly after, pulling down your bags and dragging your suitcases into the slow-moving line. The wheels scraped against the floor as you rolled them forward, the sound blending with the chatter of passengers and the shuffle of footsteps. When it was finally your turn, you stepped down from the train platform first, the cool coastal breeze immediately brushing against your skin.
You turned just in time to see Sunoo hop off behind you with an excited grin, stretching his arms as if the air itself was different here. Ningning stepped down next, her pink cowboy hat sitting proudly on her head—the same one she had impulsively bought the day before the trip. She had insisted it was “essential for spring break energy,” and now she wore it like a badge of honor. Keeho was the last one to step off the train, dragging his suitcase behind him with a tired sigh. He had spent nearly the entire two hour ride complaining about how much he hated trains and how renting a car would’ve been easier. But in his defense, he probably wasn’t wrong.
Finding a taxi, however, turned out to be harder than expected. A few cars passed by the station entrance, but every driver seemed to completely ignore Keeho, who stood near the curb waving his arm dramatically at each one. The more he tried, the more ridiculous it looked. It wasn’t until Ningning casually stepped forward that things finally changed. With one quick wave and a bright smile, a taxi slowed down almost instantly and pulled up beside the curb. Keeho stared at the car for a moment before scoffing under his breath.
The ride to the resort ended up being cramped, the three of you practically squeezed together in the back while the warm air lingered inside the vehicle. Keeho continued his complaints about how hot it was, dramatically fanning himself with his phone. Meanwhile, Ningning had somehow charmed the driver within seconds of getting in. He had even offered her the front seat without hesitation, and she happily accepted, the cool blast of air conditioning hitting her face while the rest of you sat packed together in the back.
After circling around a small roundabout lined with palm trees and coastal flowers, the taxi finally pulled up to the curb in front of the resort entrance. The driver stepped out to help with the luggage, pulling suitcases from the trunk while everyone stretched their legs after the ride. One by one, you each grabbed your bags. You bowed politely, thanking him for the ride before straightening up and finally letting your eyes wander toward the view ahead. The ocean stretched out in front of the resort, shimmering under the sunlight as waves rolled toward the shore. The salty scent of the sea lingered in the air, carried gently by the breeze. “Mm… you can smell the salt in the air,” you said quietly, taking a slow breath and letting the fresh scent fill your lungs.
Sunoo stepped beside you, squinting slightly as he looked up toward the bright sky. “Smells like spring break,” he said with a satisfied smile, clearly proud of the trip he had planned. Ningning walked back toward the group just as the taxi pulled away from the curb. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, adjusting the pink cowboy hat with an amused grin. “The idiot only charged me fourteen thousand won for the ride,” she snickered. Keeho laughed under his breath, shaking his head. “If prices drop every time you’re around, I should probably just follow you everywhere.” The four of you shared a quick laugh before continuing forward, rolling your suitcases along the wide stone pathway leading deeper into the resort.
Nothing, however, could have prepared any of you for the massive cruise ship sitting at the top of the steep cliff ahead. The structure towered over the coastline, its white exterior shining under the sunlight as if it had been placed there purely for dramatic effect. Sure, you had all seen photos of it online when Sunoo first suggested the trip—but seeing it in person was something completely different. You slowed your steps, staring at the scenery unfolding in front of you. It had been a while since you had taken a proper vacation like this, away from lectures, assignments, and the stress of college life. You were genuinely glad you had decided to come.
“How did they even get that boat up there?” Ningning suddenly asked, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. There was always that saying—that even the most beautiful people had at least one flaw. For Ningning, unfortunately, that flaw was common sense. Sunoo barely glanced at her, his eyes still focused on the view in front of him. “It’s a cruise ship, you idiot,” he said flatly.
Ningning furrowed her brows, squinting up at the structure again like she was genuinely trying to figure it out before shrugging and continuing to walk. Keeho immediately launched into a rambling speech about how this was already the best spring break vacation he had ever been on, praising everything from the view to the weather. Sunoo happily accepted every compliment thrown his way, clearly proud of himself for planning the trip in the first place.
The sound of your suitcases rolled steadily along the concrete before shifting onto the smoother stone path that curved through the resort grounds. Your gaze wandered across the people walking nearby, noticing how many of them looked around your age. Groups of college students laughed as they carried beach bags and cameras, likely here for the same reason you were, to escape the stress of midterms and responsibilities, even if just for a few days.
You silently hoped this long weekend would turn out to be worth it.
The next day, the sun came up bright and early. It peaked through the glass windows, a friendly reminder that the day had just begun. Your group of four roamed the clean halls, talking over each other about what plans they had for the day. About the club that the resort had opened for spring breakers. Entering the large lobby, you did a turn into the cafeteria, where the staff behind the counter were already busy. It smelled of fresh fruits, vegetables, and the freshly squeezed orange juice an employee was prepping in the back. On the menu, it read a special: "Ship’s Spring Break Special: Korean Street Toast."
One by one, you each grabbed a tray and filled it up until nothing else could fit. You looked around for a place to sit, preferably by the window to look at the amazing view. Sunoo started talking about his midterms, hoping he didn't fail, but admitting he hadn't tried hard enough to be sure. "If the teacher has a bit of sympathy, she'll pass me," he said, taking a spoonful of his seaweed soup. Keeho looked over at him, shaking his head. "Cross your fingers. She looks like she takes everything way too seriously," he replied. Ningning then chimed in about her own midterm, explaining how easy it had felt.
But soon, you got sick of it. You came on this vacation to forget about school—to leave the stress of tests back in Seoul. You brought your cup of orange juice down to the table with a small thud, grabbing the attention of the others. "So, what are we doing today?" you asked. Ningning took a bite of her bread, holding up her index finger until she finally swallowed. "As much as the pool here is beautiful, I wanna go to their private beach," she said, sipping on the mimosa she’d excitedly grabbed earlier. Sunoo nodded. "The UV is at five. It’s perfect for tanning." They both smiled, happy they were on the same page. "I'm fine with the beach," Keeho agreed. After a few more bites, the group finally headed down.
It was a small hike, but worth it. The ocean built up strong waves, creating a dramatic roar as it swept up onto the tan sand. The water was a perfect blue, mixing with the sky as the sun beamed high. You and Ningning found chaise lounge chairs with privacy curtains. You tossed your bag down and folded the curtains back so the sun could hit the chairs directly. You began with the sunscreen, rubbing it all over your body until it covered every hidden spot. You lay down then, sliding on your sunglasses and letting the beams toast your skin. Ningning hummed a joyful tune, watching as Sunoo and Keeho played in the water like little kids. She looked over at you, letting out a small chuckle. Her thigh brushing against yours as she sighed into the breeze. "It feels nice, doesn't it?" she asked, sliding her body further down the lounge chair to maximize the exposure. "Doing something different other than staring at a laptop, making coffees until my skin reeks of espresso, and best of all—not dealing with any boys." She dragged out the word boys with a playful, bitter edge.
You chuckled, tilting your head towards her without opening your eyes. You knew her cycle too well. "Has Soobin called you yet?" The silence that followed was your answer. She let out a long, jagged sigh. "No. But he said he would. You heard him, right? Standing by the taxi? He promised he’d call to ask how the trip was." You slid your sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, peering at her. She looked pathetic in the most beautiful way—worried, annoyed, and still holding hope for a guy who was probably already on top of another girl. "Ning, I have no idea why you still let him breathe your air," you spoke plainly, your voice dropping to a grounded, blunt tone. "He clearly doesn’t want to settle down. He looks for you for one thing, and once he gets it, he ghosts until he’s hungry again. Don't settle for a dirtbag just because he has a pretty face.”
She groaned, throwing an arm over her eyes to shield them from the glare. "I know, I know. It’s just... the habit. I don't know how to move on when my body still remembers him." A wicked thought sparked in your mind. You sat up abruptly, the movement causing your bikini top to shift, and you smirked, pulling your sunglasses off completely. "Jesus, Ning. You don't need a phone call. You need sex."
Ningning’s jaw dropped, a hysterical giggle bubbling out of her as she covered her face. "A one-night stand? Seriously? How would that even work here? Everyone is a stranger." "That is exactly the point!" you scoffed, leaning closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We’re on spring break. It’s the international holiday for bad decisions. You find someone tonight, you flirt and touch for a few hours, and then you never see them again. No feelings, no 'where is this going' texts. Just pure, mindless friction."
Ningning’s eyes began to wander, her gaze drifting over the other vacationers until they suddenly snagged on something. Her expression shifted from skeptical to predatory. "Think I might be looking at my meal for later," she whispered, her voice low. You turned your head, and the air left your lungs. Three men were playing football in the shallow surf, their bodies carved out of granite and glistening with saltwater. One in particular, the one in the center, was a total eclipse of the sun. He was big, his pale skin glowing against the black of his trunks. Every time he moved to catch the ball, the muscles in his back and biceps flexed in a way that felt like a personal insult to your self-control. He wore a black hat backward, and his trunks sat dangerously low on his hips, revealing a deep, sharp V-line that disappeared into the water. You felt a sudden, thrumming ache between your thighs, a sharp heat that made you instinctively cross your legs and bite your index finger.
"God, please let them be at the club tonight," you whispered, the words coming out. "I’d let him touch me for hours." You and Ningning burst into a fit of breathless, dirty laughter just as Keeho and Sunoo walked up from the water, dripping wet. "What's so funny?" Keeho asked, flopping down onto the sand near your feet and shaking his head like a dog, spraying you with cold droplets. "Just talking about our plans for the evening," you giggled, eyes still darting back to the man in the water. "Hey, if one of us disappears tonight, don't call the police. Just assume we're being well taken care of."
Sunoo leaned against the end of Ningning's chair, running a hand through his damp hair. "The sudden change in attitude? You’d never say something that scandalous back home. You're usually the 'let's stay in and watch a movie' girl." You shrugged as you took a slow sip of your drink. "It’s spring break, Sunoo. What happens on break stays here. My morals are officially on vacation." "Should I be worried for my safety?" Keeho snickered, standing up and grabbing your hand with a firm tug. "You guys are acting weird. Come on, get your asses in the water before you melt."
Keeho didn't give you a choice, his grip firm and playful as he hauled you toward the shoreline. The first hit of the water was sharp against your ankles, sending a jolt straight up your spine that made you shriek with a mix of adrenaline and pure joy. You fumbled with your sunglasses, tossing them blindly toward the sand before diving deeper. Sunoo and Ningning were right on your heels, their laughter cutting through the heavy roar of the tide. The water felt like a second skin as it swirled around your waist, tugging at the ties of your bikini. But as you wiped the spray from your eyes and turned your head, the breath hitched in your throat.
He was closer now. The game of football had drifted, or perhaps he had steered it, until he was only a few yards away. Up close, the view was devastating. He was an absolute mountain of a man—chest broad enough to block out the sun and shoulders that looked like they were carved from marble. Every time a wave hit him, the water broke against his skin. Your eyes locked, and the world around you blurred. The sound of Keeho splashing and Ningning’s high-pitched giggling faded into a dull hum, replaced by the humming of your own pulse in your ears. He didn't look away. Instead, he let his gaze drop, slowly and carefully tracing the curve of your body beneath the water before bringing his dark, hooded eyes back to yours.
The club was exactly how you imagined it on vacation. Alcohol everywhere, house music pumping through your veins, and bodies swaying against yours as you danced recklessly. You wore something skimpier now, a soft blush pink dress covered in an intricate floral fabric that felt like velvet against your skin. The gold starfish pinned to the chest caught every stray beam of light, holding a sheer pink sash that draped down your front, while the ruffled hem teased the tops of your thighs. It was short, barely covering your ass, but it was so perfect. You paired it with some nude sandals, also perfect and much better than tripping on your own feet in heels.
You stood near the entrance, swaying just a tad as the alcohol started to get to your head. Your eyes squinted, looking for Ningning’s familiar figure until she appeared in the crowd. She grabbed your arm, leaning into your ear and speaking loud enough for you to hear over the bass. "They don't wanna leave! They met some people, so let's just leave together!" she yelled. You nodded, and both of you walked toward the exit until the fresh air hit your face.
The wind was like a slap to the face, but it felt good. After hours spent squished between people and the smell of sweat, the salty air was just what you needed. You held onto Ningning tightly, as she was a bit more tipsy than you but still able to recognize her surroundings. "I really took your advice seriously yn," she said, giggling as you walked. "Tried to find someone but... none of them were interesting." Ningning shrugged, continuing her giggles. You only smiled, teasing her as you stepped into the quiet luxury of the lobby.
"It's okay, don't listen to me." You sat her down on a chair, and she hummed a tune from earlier tonight. She continued to babble about the night, who she met, what she drank, and how fun it felt to finally party. "We really need to thank Sunoo for this trip. I'm so glad we're here." She inhaled the fresh air, letting out a sigh of relief before looking around.
Ningning automatically noticed a sign outside a door, her vision 20/20 even with alcohol in her system. She tugged at your pink dress, making eye contact immediately. "What if we crash a party?" she suggested, springing up from her seat. Your brows furrowed, looking at her before turning around. A door that was propped open led to an event held in a private, dim garden. You smirked, grabbing her arm and pulling her over. You both teased each other as you crossed the lobby, whispering about playing it cool, trying to blend in, and most of all—not making a scene.
You passed the sign, walking through the door and into the private garden. It was nicely decorated; a fountain bubbled in one corner, and people in expensive suits and dresses were scattered around. Fairy lights hung from the trees, and the greenery was perfectly manicured. There weren't many people, but it was enough to blend in. Your eyes wandered until they caught another pair—the same dark, intense eyes you’d locked with earlier today.
Except he wasn't shirtless now. Or wearing a backwards hat. He wore an all-black suit with the top buttons open just a little, showing a hint of his collarbone. His hair fell casually over his forehead, and a gold chain glinted against his skin. He stood with the same guys from the beach, all looking completely different in their formal wear. You broke eye contact, looking anywhere but at him. "What do you think this is?" you wondered.
Ningning seemed as clueless as you, but her eyes glistened. "I don't know, but I see a bar." She laughed, pulling you toward it. You both took seats at the end of the bar, quickly asking for drinks. The bartender placed a coaster first, then the dirty martini you ordered. You took a sip, the cold alcohol spiking through your body as Ningning looked over her shoulder. "There’s a food table," she quietly gasped. "I’m hungry, please don't stop me." She giggled, making her way to the appetizers.
Left alone, you continued to sip on your martini as the chatter of older people filled your ears. You couldn't help but look back again, searching for the guy from the beach. But he was gone—not in the spot where you first spotted him. Your eyes went back to your glass, feeling a bit bored until someone sat in the empty stool next to you.
The guy from the beach.
His cologne was so strong and expensive it made your head swirl. His large hands were folded as he looked toward the bartender. You tried to act normal, looking straight ahead even though you desperately wanted to stare at his profile. The man behind the counter appeared, giving him a respectful nod. "What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Just your finest bourbon, please," he answered. His voice was even deeper than you expected, a rich baritone that made your stomach flip. His eyes then went toward you, scanning your side profile as you stared down at your drink. He smiled, checking the time on his watch before the bartender returned. Finally, you looked up, watching as he took a slow sip of the auburn liquid. He set the glass down, locking eyes with you and smiling. "Fun party, is it not?" he started, turning his stool toward you. You nodded shyly, looking back at your martini. "Yeah... congratulations to whoever this party is for," you awkwardly chuckled, the alcohol finally hitting.
He looked surprised, then a smirk played on his lips as he watched your expression. "You know the couple?" You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and nodded. "They're my friends," you cleared your throat, looking over at Ningning who was busy talking to someone at the buffet. As cute as he was, you felt so awkward. He laughed again, a little louder this time, the sound rich and vibrating in the small space between your stools. "You're a great liar," he murmured, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Your eyebrows furrowed, your heart doing a nervous little dance in your chest. "Excuse me?" you said, turning fully to look at him. He was devastatingly gorgeous. His dark, thick eyebrows gave him an almost intimidating look, and his skin was flawlessly pale against the black of his suit. You caught the sight of tiny moles scattered across his face—near his eye, on his nose—each one looking like a target for a kiss. His nose was sharp and straight, and when he smirked, his lips pulled back to reveal slight fangs that made him look more like a predator than a regular guy.
"If you're going to crash a party, at least know what you're getting into," he chuckled, swirling the ice in his bourbon. "This isn't a wedding. Company parties are usually far too boring to crash. You should have walked next door, that’s where you would have found your 'friends' and their white dress." He mischievously snickered, his ego peaking as he watched the realization hit your face. You couldn't help but laugh—laugh at how dumb you felt, but also because his confidence was infectious. You rubbed your forehead, looking back at him through your lashes. "A company party, huh? So I’m surrounded by corporate sharks?"
"Something like that," he nodded, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. He played with the edge of his coaster, his long fingers moving with a slow grace. "I'm certain you aren't part of this firm. So, what brings a girl like you into a room full of suits?" "Spring break," you replied, taking a brave sip of your martini. "I’m a college student."
His eyebrows lifted, a genuine flash of surprise crossing his face. He hesitated, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to take it all in. He looked you over once, then twice, his gaze lingering on the sheer sash draped over your chest. "A student," he repeated, his voice dropping. "I suppose I should have guessed. You really have the look." He scoffed. "And you?" you countered, feeling bold. "I assume you're some high-level executive who happened to tag along to keep your colleagues in line?" He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. "I'm Sunghoon," he said, ignoring the question with a flirty tilt of his head. He leaned into your space, the scent of his cologne shushing your thoughts. "Is it okay if the pretty girl tells me her name? Or do you want to keep anonymous?"
"Yn," you said simply, feeling the heat of a blush creeping onto your cheeks. You both sat at that bar for what felt like hours, the rest of the party blurring into a hum of background noise. You learned that he was thirty, and the way he spoke was so calm, measured, and completely unfazed by the chaos around him—it made you feel like the center of his universe. He told you about his dog back home, Gaeul, and how he missed the quiet of Seoul compared to the loud, neon energy of the resort. He listened when you talked about your midterms, his eyes never leaving yours, making you feel much older than twenty-two.
By your second martini, the world felt lightweight. You were conscious of every time his knee brushed against yours, every time his hand moved closer to yours on the mahogany bar. "I’m going to use the restroom," you finally said, feeling the need to catch your breath away from his intense stare. You looked around, trying to find a door through the maze of fairy lights.
Sunghoon stood up abruptly, his tall frame casting a shadow over you. He didn't step aside; he blocked your path, his expression shifting from flirty to something much darker, much more possessive. "I know the men at this party, yn," he whispered, leaning down until his breath hitched against your ear. His hand moved, fingers wrapping firmly around your forearm to bring you a fraction closer. The heat of his palm was so electric. "The bathrooms down here... they aren't fit for a sweet girl like you. Especially not by this hour."
He let the silence hang for a moment, his thumb stroking the skin of your wrist in a slow circle. "Why don't you come up to my room? It's cleaner. It's quiet. And I have a bottle of vintage champagne up there that’s been waiting for a reason to be opened." He smirked, his eyes hooded as they locked onto yours. "I think you’re a very good reason, don't you?" You looked up at him, the thrill of the "one-night stand" you’d joked about with Ningning suddenly becoming very, very real. "Okay," you whispered, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. "Lead the way, Sunghoon." He didn't waste a second. Sunghoon’s hand moved from your arm to the small of your back, his palm a steady, burning weight that guided you away from the bar and toward the elevators. You didn't look back for Ningning; you knew she was likely off on her own adventure, and right now, your heart was hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs.
The elevator lobby was quiet, the gold-plated doors gleaming under the soft recessed lighting. Sunghoon pressed the button for the penthouse, and the wait felt like an eternity. When the chime finally rang and the doors slid open, he ushered you inside.
The moment the doors hissed shut, the world changed. The muffled bass of the club and the chatter of the garden party vanished, replaced by a silence so thick. You were trapped in a small, mirrored box with a man who was nearly a head taller than you, smelling of bourbon and that intoxicating cedar cologne.
You caught your reflection in the polished chrome. You looked flushed, your eyes bright with a mixture of alcohol and adrenaline. Next to you, Sunghoon looked devastatingly composed. His fingers went straight to the buttons of his black shirt, undoing one, then two, until his chest was partially open. The gold chain he wore caught the light, resting against his pale skin. He caught you watching his hands in the mirror and smirked, a slow, dark expression that made your knees feel like water.
"You're very quiet all of a sudden," he murmured, his voice echoing in the confined space. He stepped closer, crowding you into the corner of the elevator. He didn't touch you yet, but the heat radiating off his black suit jacket was enough to make your skin prickle. "Not getting cold feet, are you?" "I don't get cold feet," you countered, though your voice was a little breathier than you intended. "Good," he rasped, leaning down so his lips were inches from your neck. "Because I’ve been remarkably patient today, and I’m reaching my limit."
The elevator dinged, the doors opening directly into his suite. You stepped out and nearly gasped. It wasn't just a hotel room; it was a sprawling, modern masterpiece. Floor-to-ceiling glass walls wrapped around the entire space, offering a staggering, 360-degree view of the resort's coastline and the dark, shimmering ocean you’d been swimming in earlier that day. The furniture was all dark leather and polished wood, and the air was perfectly chilled. It screamed wealth, the kind of rich you didn't even want to put a price tag on yet.
Sunghoon tossed his blazer onto a chair, his black button-down stretching across his broad shoulders as he gestured toward a set of double doors. "The master bath is through there," he said, his eyes trailing down the length of your pink dress one more time before meeting your gaze. "Take your time. I'll get the champagne started." You nodded, clutching your sheer sash as you ducked into the bathroom. The moment the door clicked shut, you leaned your back against the cool marble and let out the breath you’d been holding.
The bathroom was insane—a deep soaking tub, a rain shower that could fit four people, and enough Carrara marble to floor a cathedral. But you didn't actually have to use the restroom. You walked over to the massive vanity, gripping the edge of the sink as you stared at yourself in the mirror. Your pupils were blown wide. Your chest was heaving. You looked at the gold starfish on your dress, then back at your own reflection. You let out a hysterical little laugh bubbling up in your throat. You had crashed a corporate party, picked up a man nearly a decade older than you, and now you were in a penthouse suite that probably cost more than your entire trip here.
You took a deep breath, smoothing the ruffles of your dress and checking your hair. You weren't going to make him wait a second longer.
The suite was quiet, but the only sound that you hear was the muffled roar of the ocean far below. Your eyes scanned the dim room until they landed on the open glass slider. The sheer curtains billowed in the night breeze, leading your gaze out to the massive wrap-around balcony.
Sunghoon was standing there, his back to you as he leaned against the railing. He had discarded his black button-down loosely into his slacks. Even from behind, his shoulders were imposing, the fabric straining against his frame. He heard the soft click of your sandals on the hardwood and turned slowly, a silver bucket with a bottle of champagne resting on the small outdoor table beside him. He had opened his shirt even further while you were in the bathroom. The dark fabric hung open, revealing the hard, pale planes of his chest. The moonlight hit the sharp angles of his face, making him look like something out of a high-end editorial—expensive, untouchable, and utterly lethal.
"I was beginning to think you took the opportunity and left," he teased, his voice low and raspy as it carried over the wind. You walked toward him, the ruffled hem of your dress fluttering against your thighs. As you stepped onto the balcony, the humidity of the tropical night wrapped around you, a stark contrast to the chilled air of the suite. The view was staggering—the entire coastline was lit up like a string of diamonds, the black expanse of the sea stretching out into infinity.
"I told you I don't get cold feet," you reminded him, stopping just a few inches away. The alcohol was still humming in your system, giving you a boost of confidence you didn't usually possess. Sunghoon reached for the bottle, the pop of the cork echoing into the night. He poured two glasses, the bubbles hissing as he handed one to you. His fingers brushed against yours—a lingering contact that sent a fresh jolt of electricity straight to your core.
"To being on this vacation," he murmured. You raised your glass to his, the crystal clinking with a sharp, expensive ring that echoed into the tropical night. "To coincidentally meeting each other," you countered, a playful challenge in your tone. You watched him over the rim as the sparkling champagne hit the back of your throat, the vintage bubbles crisp and potent. It was far stronger than anything you usually drank, hitting your system with a rush that made the stars above seem to dance.
When you pulled the glass away, Sunghoon was staring out at the coastline, a dark, thoughtful smile playing on his lips. He looked as if he’d just stumbled upon a prize he had no intention of letting go. "You know, I've been doing this corporate life for such a short time in the grand scheme... but it feels like forever," he started, his deep voice making you crave him with a sudden, sharp ache between your thighs.
He turned toward you, his movements slow as he invaded your space. He crowded you against the railing until the scent of his cologne and bourbon was all you could breathe. He reached out, his thumb hooking under the edge of the sheer pink sash draped over your shoulder, tugging it just enough to make the silk rasp against your bare skin. "And when I work, far away... away from home... I always want to come home to something else other than my dog," he chuckled, placing his hand on your waist. You smirked, looking up at him with a sneaky, alcohol-dazed look. "Too bored to play with yourself, Sunghoon?" you teased.
He scoffed, a dark, amused sound as he pulled you in closer while you set your glass on the side table. "Why do all that when I can have a sweet girl like you do it all for me, hm?" he rumbled, his thumb soothing the sensitive skin of your side. You made eye contact with him and smiled, geeking at the intensity of the situation. "A girl my age...obviously we always seek for pension. For someone who’s already figured it out," you said, your hand dangerously planting against the hard, bunched muscle of his bicep.
"Doll, I'd buy you everything you ever mentioned. Anything you'll touch, and everything you'll ever dream of," he whispered into your ear now. His hand went up to your neck, pushing your head out just enough to lay a firm, lingering kiss there. He placed another soft kiss lower, making you squirm as his lips grazed your collarbone. "You'd never have to lift a finger again, not around me," he assured, placing another kiss on the sensitive cord of your neck.
"You're lucky I'm not that kind of girl," you whispered, right before Sunghoon finally leaned in for the kiss. It felt so passionate, the way he slowly kissed you, his lips moving with a hungry rhythm. You melted into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to eat him whole. His tongue slipped in, taking your breath away as he pulled you closer, hungrier than before. The taste of bourbon mixed with the sweet champagne in your mouth as his lips finally drifted down to your neck.
He began to suck deep, dark marks into your skin, claiming his prize. You stared out into the sky and moaned freely, letting him mark you deeply, when suddenly you felt his teeth sink into your pulse point. He bit you hard and a sharp whimper escaped your lips as he looked back at you and smiled obsessively. "Now that I've got you up here and like this..." he smirked, his fangs peeking out. "Tell me what you are going to do with me? Are you going to keep teasing me, or are you going to show me exactly how dirty a college girl can be?"
“Why say when I can just show you?” You say, smiling as you pecked his bruised lips. The alcohol, the adrenaline of the crash, and the magnetic pull of this man had finally snapped the last of your inhibitions. You let your gaze drop from his intense eyes, tracing the line of his throat down to where the gold chain rested against his skin, and then further down to the low-slung waistband of his black slacks.
You sank to your knees slowly, the ruffled hem of your dress bunching up around your thighs as the cool tiles of the balcony met your skin. Sunghoon let out a sharp exhale, his entire body stiff as he realized exactly what you were doing. "Yn..." he warned, but there was no bite in it—only a raw desperation. You reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as you fumbled with the button of his slacks. The sound of his zipper sliding down was loud in the quiet of the night, followed immediately by the heavy thrum of the ocean waves below.
When you finally freed him, the sight took your breath away—he was thick, pulsing, and already leaking a bead of desire that glistened under the moonlight. His cock was as perfect as him, and you desperately wanted a taste of it.
You spit in your palm, the heat of the night making the slickness feel like molten silk as you lubed up his thick, heavy length. Sunghoon’s breath hitched, a sharp sound as he bit his lower lip, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the railing. He watched with a dark look while your hand began to pump him back and forth, the wet friction of your skin against his causing his hips to twitch instinctively. Finally, you started off with slow, teasing kitten licks at the very tip, tasting the salty, sweet beads of pre-cum that leaked from him with every rhythmic stroke. He tasted exactly how he smelled—expensive, masculine, and utterly intoxicating.
You swirled your tongue around the broad, pulsing head, hearing his breathing turn uneven and ragged as his hand finally found your hair. He didn't grip it just yet; instead, he carefully tucked the stray strands behind your ears, his fingers trembling slightly. He made sure he had an unobstructed, crystal-clear view of your flushed, pretty face worshiping his cock under the moonlight.
"So beautiful...but stop teasing me and give me the whole experience, yeah?" he rasped, his voice dropping that vibrated in the air. His fingers suddenly tangled deep at the base of your skull, his grip tightening with a firm, dominant possessiveness that forced your head forward. You gave him a small smile, your eyes locked onto his, before stretching your mouth wide and taking his entire cock in. You hummed low in your throat around the thickness, making his entire body shudder. You tried to take every inch, but he was just so massive it felt physically impossible; your jaw ached and your eyes watered as you began to bop your head frantically, determined to please him.
Sunghoon had to admit—he’d had his share of hookups, women who knew exactly what they were doing—but he had never let someone as young and fresh as you touch him like this. He looked down at you, his eyes glazed with a lethal amount of lust, his ego soaring as he watched you struggle to accommodate him. He silently prayed you were the last person who would ever get to see him this undone. You were so fucking incredible, a hurricane of pure, unadulterated talent.
Your hands slid up the hard, tensed planes of his thighs, reaching for his shirt to frantically unbutton the rest of the dark fabric. As it fell open, his flexed, rock-hard abs were bathed in the silver glow of the moon, the muscles rippling and glistening with sweat with every guttural groan he let out while you continued to throat him. Sunghoon’s other hand gripped the top of your head, holding you still with a bruising strength as he began to ruthlessly thrust into your mouth. Your lips stretched to their absolute limit, allowing him to fill you completely, his girth stretching your cheeks until they were white.
"Ahhh—so warm," he muttered, a low chuckle vibrating in his throat as his eyes drifted shut in pure ecstasy. He began to fuck your face faster now, the force of his thrusts bringing your nose into contact with the musky base of his cock. Each lunging movement was a reminder of his power, his hips snapping forward with a dominant precision. "Doing so g-good... letting me fuck your mouth like a tight, hungry p-pussy," he moaned, his voice breaking as he opened his eyes to watch the wreckage he was making of you. Your hands found his thighs again, gripping the corded muscle so tightly your knuckles turned white; it felt like he was trying to rip you open with the sheer size of him. Between your legs, you were a soaking mess, your own nectar coating your thighs and the balcony floor as the raw, dominant sight of him made you come right there on your knees.
He held your head in a grip, hot tears of pleasure pricking your eyes as his tip slammed against your uvula like a bell. Your muffled moans sent fresh vibrations through him, and as you instinctively swallowed around his length, his thrusts began to stutter and fail. He was so close; you could feel the tension coiling in his hips, the muscles in his legs locking tight.
He pulled out abruptly, your thick saliva coating his pulsing cock as he pumped himself frantically in front of your face. You tried to catch your breath, gasping for air, but his heavy groin practically blocked the world out as he loomed over you. "Open that pretty mouth, doll," he commanded, his voice a primal snap that brooked no argument.
You obeyed instantly, your tongue out and waiting, your face tilted up toward him. He slapped the broad, hot tip against your tongue once, twice, before finally letting out his heavy loads of semen. He painted you white, the thick, hot cream coating your tongue, your lips, and your cheek until he finally had nothing left to give. You didn't waste a drop, looking him dead in the eye with a defiant, hungry gaze as you swallowed every bit of his release, your throat working visibly to take all of him down.
Sunghoon hauled you up, his strength effortless as he pulled you into a bruising, messy kiss, tasting his own release on your tongue as if he wanted to reclaim every part of himself he'd given you. He pulled back just enough to wipe the stray, salty tears from your cheeks, his dark eyes shimmering with an obsessive, glazed-over heat. "Let me take care of you now," he rasped, his own legs heavy and weak, yet he guided you toward the sprawling king-sized bed with the single-minded focus of a man who was only just getting started.
The click of the nightstand light bathed the room in a warm, amber glow, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the gold chain resting against his collarbone. He didn't let go, wrapping his massive frame around you from behind, his lips finding the sensitive, marked skin of your neck. The contact was electric—half-ticklish, half-lethal. "Stop teasing me, Hoonie," you whispered, the new nickname hitting him like a physical jolt to the gut.
He groaned at the sound of it, his hands sliding up to the bodice of your strapless dress. With a sudden, downward jerk, he freed your tits. You weren't wearing a bra, and they sprung out into the cool air, the tips already pebbled and aching for his touch. Sunghoon didn't hesitate; his hands came around to grope you obsessively, squeezing the soft mounds together until they overflowed between his long, elegant fingers. He began to roll your nipples between his thumbs, tugging and pinching with a pressure that made your knees buckle.
"Please—please fuck me, Hoonie—I'm so desperate," you begged, the alcohol stripping away every filter and leaving you raw. He let out a low chuckle, his chin resting on your shoulder as he pulled down the rest of the pink floral dress. The dress pooled at your feet, leaving you entirely bare in the amber light. "Bend over for me on the bed. Now," he ordered.
You scrambled onto the silk sheets, burying your face in the plush pillows and arching your back until your ass was high in the air, a silent invitation for the wreckage to come. You heard the frantic rustle of his clothes hitting the floor—the heavy thud of his shoes, the hiss of his slacks—and then the bed groaned under his massive weight. His calloused hands found your hips, his eyes darkening as he saw how soaked you were, your arousal coating your inner thighs and glistening in the light.
"So soaked... my pretty girl can't wait to be used, huh?" he teased, his voice thick with hunger. He lifted your knees, positioning you exactly where he wanted you before leaning down. His tongue lashed across your clit in one long, wet strip from front to back. You jumped, a high-pitched giggle moan escaping you as he did it again, devouring your sweetness with a greedy, expert tongue. "Perfect taste. You’re fucking perfect," he praised, his voice muffled against your flesh. Then, without warning, he sank his teeth into the soft meat of your ass. You let out a sharp whimper of pure pleasure-pain, already knowing the marks he was leaving would be dark and deep.
He grabbed his throbbing cock and lined it up with your pulsing, expectant entrance. He pushed in slowly, just the tip at first, stretching you wide until you felt like you might snap. You gasped, the sheer size of him feeling like he was tearing through your very soul. "S-so big, Hoonie... it hurts," you whined, your eyes red-rimmed and hazy as you looked back at him.
He leaned over you, his chest pressing against your bare back as he captured your lips in a deep, soul-searching kiss. "I've got you, baby. I'll be gentle until you're ready. I'll go slow," he promised, though the strain in his voice told you how much it was costing him to hold back. He began to slide in, inch by agonizing inch, until he was buried to the hilt. You breathed heavily, your insides fluttering as they finally adjusted to his massive girth. The pain dissolved into a heavy, throbbing heat that felt like a drug. "Mmm, go faster, babe... I can handle it now," you urged, batting your lashes and backing your weight up against him. You began to grind your ass against his lap, the friction sending a growl ripping through Sunghoon’s throat.
He took total, ruthless control. His hands gripped your waist like iron claws as he began to drill into you, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room alongside the scent of sex and sea salt. Each thrust was deep and rhythmic, his balls slapping against your ass with a frantic, wet thud. He reached back and delivered a sharp, stinging slap to your right cheek, the red mark blooming instantly on your pale skin. "Such a tight pussy, fuck," he hissed, his head thrown back, his veins corded in his neck. "Gonna mold myself into you... make it so only I can fit inside you."
He was relentless, his thumbs digging into your hips as he drove himself harder and harder, bruising your walls. You were crying out now, your face buried in the sheets as he slapped you again in the same spot, the sting sending a jolt of lightning straight to your clit. You felt your orgasm coiling in your lower stomach, a knot of pure fire that refused to break. He kept you on the edge, teasing you by pulling out almost entirely before slamming back in with a force that made you see stars.
"Not yet yn," he spoke, sensing your peak. "You don't get to finish until I tell you." He shifted his grip, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back so you had to watch your own reflection in the mirrored ceiling as he hammered into you. The sight of him, so dominant, sweat-slicked, and focused—pushed you even further. "Sunghoon, please! I'm gonna cum! I can't hold it," you sobbed, your body trembling.
"Let's cum together," he rasped, his voice finally breaking. He delivered three final, soul-crushing thrusts, burying himself as deep as possible, his knot expanding inside you as he spent himself. You felt the scorching heat of him filling you up like icing, your whole body shaking and convulsing around him until your knees finally gave out for good.
You crashed down into the pillows, the room spinning as Sunghoon pulled out and collapsed beside you. He lay there, his arm over his eyes, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. You sat up slowly, your body sore and buzzing, watching him with a wide, drunken smile. You climbed on top of him, your bare skin slick with sweat and the heavy, musky scent of the last hour. You straddled his hips, watching the drained man peek from under his arm as a lazy, satisfied smile spread across your face.
"What're you doing?" He chuckled. His large hands instinctively found your ass once again, his thumbs tracing the heat of your skin. You leaned down, your hair falling like a curtain around his face, and pressed a lingering, open-mouthed kiss to his chest. "I wanna go again," you stated, your voice dropping into a purr. You trailed your lips up to his neck, finding the pulse point where the skin was still hot and marked. Sunghoon closed his eyes, his head falling back into the pillows as he let you mark him up everywhere. "Still so sensitive, sweet girl," he whispered, his breath hitching as your teeth grazed his jaw.
You sat up, your hand reaching down to find his cock—already thickening and hardening again under the mere weight of your thighs. You hovered over him, the tip teasing your swollen, soaking entrance, before you sank down fast. You let out a strangled cry as he filled you up to the hilt, the stretch feeling even more intense now that you were already sensitized and bruised from before.
"Doesn't seem so sensitive to me," you giggled, your voice trembling with the fullness of him. You began to rock your hips forward in a slow, grinding circle, feeling his thick groin blunt-force its way against all your internal walls. You let out a loud, long sigh of pleasure, your muscles aching but your hunger far from satisfied.
Your hands pushed against his hard, flexed chest, riding his cock at a faster, more desperate pace now. Sunghoon watched you with a glazed, obsessive look, his hand coming up to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your ass. The sudden shock made you jump, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as the sting radiated through your core. He couldn't get enough of the sight of you—drunk, naked, and riding his worn-out member like your life depended on it. "You're so perfect... so fucking perfect," he praised, his voice a guttural groan. He reached up, his hands locking onto your hips and physically directing your movements, forcing you into a deeper, more punishing rhythm. "Taking all of me again. Such a greedy little thing."
You changed the pace now, holding onto his thick thighs for balance as you began to jump on his cock like a bunny. Your tits bounced wildly with every movement, your moans getting cut off as your breath hitched in your throat. With every downward plunge, you felt the tip of him hitting your lower belly—striking that deep, hidden spot that sent electricity through your entire frame.
Sunghoon sat up abruptly, his core muscles rippling as his mouth found your tit automatically. His tongue twirled the sensitive bud around, sucking on it like a hungry child while you watched from above, your head lolling back with pleasure. He moved on to the other, devouring it, his teeth grazing the tip just enough to make you shriek.
"God, Hoon, please don't stop," you moaned, throwing an arm around his neck and pulling his face deeper into your chest. He wrapped his massive arm around your waist, and suddenly he began to thrust up to meet your downward strikes. The double friction was overwhelming; you choked out a sob as literal tears of ecstasy began to track down your cheeks. His hot breaths were ghosting against your skin as he went rough, fucking your pussy with a primal, renewed urgency.
You felt your second orgasm coiling tight, the waves of pleasure crashing over you, but Sunghoon gripped your hips and held you still for a second, teasing you, refusing to let you drop yet. "Yn…," he rasped, his eyes burning into yours. "Look at me when you cum."
The tension snapped. You rode the sensation out as Sunghoon let out a final moan, coming for the third time tonight. Both of your milks combined inside you, a hot, overflowing mess that seeped out as his cock finally began to soften within your walls. You both made eye contact again, both of you flushed and completely spent, sharing a smile that felt far too intimate for two people who had just met hours ago. He leaned in, kissing you with a desperate, all-consuming passion, his tongue sweeping through your mouth as if he wanted to taste every part of you one last time.
You eventually pushed away, slowly and wetly pulling off of him. You collapsed onto the silk sheets next to him, staring up at the ceiling as you tried to remember how to breathe. Sunghoon lay there for a moment, his eyes drifting down to catch the sight of the white liquid cream dripping from between your thighs and staining the sheets.
Without a word, he rolled out of bed, standing tall and nude in the light. He disappeared into the marble bathroom, the sound of the faucet echoing for a second before he returned with a warm, wet cloth in his hand. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you shamelessly, his gaze trailing over every mark he’d left on your skin.
"You okay, doll?" he comforted, his voice soft and caring. You nodded, the heavy weight of sleep finally starting to pull at your eyelids. "Yeah... I'm okay," you replied, your voice a mere whisper.
"I'm going to clean you up." He folded the cloth over his hand and touched your inner thigh. The warmth made you squirm and jerk instinctively, but he held your leg still with a gentle, firm hand. He wiped the semen from your skin with slow, tender strokes, treating you like something fragile and precious. He even came back a second time to gently wipe the smudged makeup and dried tears from your cheeks, his touch incredibly light.
"Hoon, you don't have to do all this," you murmured, your eyes falling shut. He hummed in response, his thumb tracing your jawline as he cleaned off the dried tears. "What kind of man would I be to leave you like this?" he asked rhetorically. He was a man, through and through, possessive in the heat of it, and devastatingly protective in the aftermath.
He set the cloth aside and reached over to kill the light, plunging the suite into a soft, moonlit blue. He pulled the heavy duvet over both of you, making sure you were tucked in and warm. He tugged at your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest, his large arms wrapping around you like a shield. You let out a sigh of pure relief, but before sleep took you, you turned in his arms.
He already had his eyes closed, his breathing leveling out, but your delicate fingers traced the sharp line of his jaw, making him open his dark eyes one last time. You reached up for a soft, quick kiss—tender and quiet. You tucked your head under his chin, listening to the steady beat of his heart as you finally let the sleep take over.
Your eyes fluttered open, the harsh brightness of the tropical sun cutting through the floor-to-ceiling windows to wake you. You stirred, the silk sheets cool against your bare skin, until you finally sat up and looked around. The scale of the suite hit you all over again—the marble, the designer furniture, the lingering scent of expensive cologne and sex.
Suddenly, the memories of last night flooded in like a wave. The balcony. The way Sunghoon had dismantled you on this very bed. You reached out, but the space beside you was cold. He wasn't there. Your heart did a nervous little skip until you saw your clothes, the pink floral dress and nude sandals—neatly placed on a chair, folded with a precision that felt almost clinical. Suddenly, the chime of the private elevator echoed through the suite. You quickly scrambled to wrap the heavy blanket around your chest, tucking it tight as you watched the bedroom door open.
Sunghoon walked right in, looking like a different man. He was drenched in sweat, wearing charcoal grey gym gear that clung to his sculpted chest and thighs. The sight of you awake made his smile grow instantly, a warm expression. "Morning, sweet girl," he spoke first, his voice still heavy from sleep.
He sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His large, calloused hands cupped your face, tilting your head up for a quick, passionate kiss that tasted of mint and hard work. "I let you sleep in while I went to the gym. You looked too peaceful to wake," he whispered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. You blinked, trying to clear the sleep from your brain. "Do you know what time it is?" you asked, your morning voice coming out as a wrecked, breathy rasp. He checked the heavy, silver watch on his wrist. "It’s about twenty past nine."
Reality hit you like a slap. Ningning. The guys. "Shit, I should probably go," you explained, bracing yourself to get up. But the moment you shifted, a sharp, deep ache radiated from your hips and thighs. You winced, a low hiss escaping your teeth as your muscles protested the "workout" he’d given you hours prior.
Sunghoon noticed the change in your expression immediately. He reached out, his hands finding your shoulders to gently push you back down into the pillows. "Are you in pain? Did I hurt you?" he soothed, his thumbs running in slow, apologetic circles over your collarbones. You shook your head, a shy laugh escaping you as you looked up at him. "Well, of course I'm in pain. You were... relentless in between my thighs."
He let out a low chuckle, his ego clearly stroked. He stood up suddenly, disappearing into the kitchenette, and returned a moment later with a heavy silver tray. He placed it beside you, lifting the cloche to reveal an extravagant breakfast of poached eggs, smoked salmon, and a bowl of glistening fruit. "Eat up. I'll wash up and then I’ll take you back myself," he assured.
He walked into the bathroom, and seconds later, you heard the roar of the rainfall shower. You sat up carefully, keeping the blanket tucked under your arms as you picked at a strawberry. The fruit was perfectly ripe, melting in your mouth along with the blueberries you shoved in after. This wasn't just a one-night stand; the level of care, the effortless care—it felt high-end, too real, and impossible to ever get over.
As you moved the plate closer, you noticed a white, embossed piece of stationery tucked under the edge of the tray. You picked it up, popping another blueberry into your mouth as you read the elegant script. Your jaw practically hit the mattress.
“It is always a pleasure to serve the CEO of the finest company in Seoul. Enjoy your stay, Mr. Park.”
Everything suddenly clicked into place. The private garden party. The deference of the staff. The suite that cost more than a year of your life. The arrogant, dominant confidence that felt like it was bred into his bones. You hadn't just crashed a party; you had spent the night being wrecked by one of the most richest men in the country.
You stared at the paper, your mind racing. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, your fingers stumbling as you opened the group chat with the others. You typed out a single, snarky comment:
YN: Woke up next to a billionaire. Don’t save me.
You clicked the phone shut just as the shower turned off. You tucked the paper back where you found it, trying to act casual. Sunghoon walked out a moment later, a white towel hanging dangerously low on his hips, his V-line showing just right. Droplets of water clung to his pale, muscular skin, trailing down his abs as he walked toward you.
He leaned over the bed, picking up a strawberry from your plate and tossing it into his mouth. He watched you with an adoring gaze, looking like a man completely captivated. "You're so beautiful like this. I could stay in this room with you all day," he murmured. The weight of who he was didn't intimidate you—it thrilled you. You reached up, wrapping your arms around his damp neck and pulling him down toward you. You giggled against his lips, tasting the sweetness of the fruit as you kissed him deeply.
"Then let's be here all day," you whispered.
And as he hovered over you—you knew you were exactly where you were meant to be.
Jake sim, one of the most popular boys in school makes it his goal to have you fall for him, a simple bet with his friends. Little does he know, he’ll be the one falling to his knees for you
sim jaeyun x fem!reader
content warnings: smut, angst, inexperienced reader x experienced jake, pussy drunk jake, pussy eating, fingering, dry humping, multiple makeout scenes, mutual masterbation, unprotected sex, cream pie, mentions of bullying & alcohol, jake is a massive giver, and a simp (begging), hyung line mentioned, porn with a plot..let me know if I missed anything!
word count: 16.8k
bonus scene here!
Going to a school where everyone around you got what they wanted was torture. Especially for someone like you. You don't come from a wealthy family like the other students do. Some people would call your home life unfortunate if they knew. Which is exactly why almost no one knows.
You only got accepted into this school because of a scholarship program, after endless studying, and trying to stay focused at your old school, that was your out.
It was hard though, with the bullying, the mean comments, trying to remain sane while everyone in your life pushed and pointed like you were some object for observation and critiquing.
But at your new school, people actually leave you alone. You've been attending here for a few months now. As a natural observer it only took 1 to understand the dynamic of the people here.
From the designer hand bags, to the freshly blown out hair, the girls here were not only gorgeous but also had the money to maintain things like that, it was obvious why they didn't bother you. Because you weren't a threat.
Just like any other school there's always those cliques, the groups of people who hang around the same circle. Yours happens to be you and two other girls, your first friends you made here, Lyla and Gigi.
You have a hard time telling if they pity you, they know your situation. How your mother constantly tries to live off the wealth of other men, they know you don’t live in a good area—
“Oh my gosh he totally looked at me, didn't he look at me?” Lyla says, eyes darting between you and Gigi.
“He quite literally looks at anything with boobs Ly..” Gigi says, taking a bite of the school cafeterias fries.
“Come on, at least feed into my delusions a little bit” She says, stealing one of your fries.
You turn your head slightly, three tables back sits the most known group of boys in the whole school. Football players. Typical.
“You’re talking about Heeseung right?” you say turning back to your friends. “Obviously! I mean with Gigi being Jay’s sister obviously he knows who I am right?” She says, eyes wide
“Yeah- im sure he does, don't they hang out a ton after school and stuff too?” You ask, playing with the salad on your plate with a fork.
“Yup! At Gigi’s too, most of the time, and especially after practice, when they're hot and sweaty-”
“Okay gross. my brother is on that team” Gigi says, gagging
You've been to her house a few times, whether it was for one of your group projects, or to help her out with some school work, Slept over often too, I mean her house was huge.
Her parents even offered to have you sleep in one of the 6 guest bedrooms. But Lyla said it doesn't count as a sleepover if we’re not all together.
“Incoming, 12 o’clock.” Lyla says looking past your shoulder at the group of boys.
“How much you wanna bet she’s gonna yell at him” Gigi says, making you turn around, you watch as a familiar blonde haired girl you've seen around campus storms into the cafeteria, heels clicking on the ground as she approaches them.
“Jake where the fuck were you!” She yells, glaring at the dark haired boy, number 15 on the football team. You only know that because Lyla made you go through the list of them to figure out which one Heeseung was.
You watch him, the way his eyes never leave his phone when he speaks. “God- What do you not fucking understand about where done?” He says finally looking up at her, the other guys around him look like they're watching a movie while they observe the interaction.
“But you didn't even-” she starts “Clara I don't want to hear your bullshit okay? Just leave me alone.” He says, tone irritated.
“Fine- you know you're just like all the other guys. Only talking to girls just to get your dick wet.”You watch the way her grip tightens on her designer bag.
“You didn't seem to mind.” He says, making the guys around him let out the laughs they've been holding.
“Fuck you- you’re so going to regret this!” She says, and you watch as he rolls his eyes and focuses back on his phone
“She looks like she's about to throw a tantrum” Gigi says, making your attention go back to your friends
“I mean Jake knew what he was getting into when they started..messing around" Lyla says.
You just nod, half listening before turning your head again to look at the group, they’re back to laughing, probably at the interaction that just happened.
“-and then we can order pizza or something, it’s the perfect night for it too! You in y/n?” Lyla says, and you look at them confused “Huh?”
“Girl, The Victoria's Secret fashion show duh, it's live tonight.” She says "Gigi's house obviously since you know, movie theater room”
“I love the way you volunteered my own place, But yeah, my house tonight” She says shrugging
“Um- I dont know guys..I kind of have to study-”
“Y/n it's friday night. Come on, you have all weekend to study, please!” She says looking at you with those infamous puppy dog eyes
“Fine, fine ill be there, what time?” You ask, picking up your phone.
“Like 7 ish?” Lyla says, looking at Gigi who just nods, “Yeah, Jay won't be home either, pretty sure him and his friends are going to some party.”
“Your parents are letting him?” Lyla asks, brow raising.
“They're not even home, they literally left for their anniversary trip not even 3 hours ago.” Gigi says checking her phone. “So it will just be us then? she nods.
The rest of the day is a blur, between trying to set up tutoring appointments with your counselor, because apparently it looks good to help other students, and trying to finish your own work so you can actually go to Gigi’s.
You mentally prepare yourself to ask your mom if you can go tonight, hoping she's in a good mood. Knocking lightly on her bedroom door “Mom?” you ask quietly and the door swings open, you take in her attire, the club dress, the really tall heels, her hair and make up done.
“You’re going on another date?” You ask brow raising
“Yeah, remember that guy from the bar I told you about, Chris?" She says smiling, you nod even though you don't remember her saying a thing about him.
“Right- um well I was just wondering if I can go to Gigi’s tonight? I finished my homework and stuff and its also friday so-”
“Sure” She says, and you pause. It must be because she's going on a date, because you would have gotten a whole lot more shit.
“Can you sleep over too.” It's not a question.
“Uh- I can ask” You say shrugging
“Well just try too okay? Im about to leave” She says, putting in her earrings and giving you a very rare kiss on your forehead before walking out the door, leaving you confused as ever.
Its like the universe was on your side when you opened your phone to see the group chat messages
Lyla: Gigi we should just have a sleepover
Lyla: It's already gonna be late when the live is done too
Lyla: Plus we haven't had one in so long
Gigi: yeah I was literally going to ask if you guys wanted to stay the night anyway lol
Lyla: YAY! Good because my bags already packed
Gigi: Y/n can u come too?
You: Yup! I'll be there
You set your phone down so you can focus on packing an overnight bag, you don't need to overdress either, so you settle on wearing some shorts, a hoodie, and fluffy socks with slippers, this is a sleepover after all
When you get to Gigi's house- no, mansion, because this can't even compare to your house. Lyla comes running out
"You're late!” She says, grabbing your bags from you “It's like 10 minutes-”
“And the show starts in 20!” she says frantically, grabbing your arm and dragging you into the house
You dont think you’ll ever get over how nice it is, from the high ceilings to the expensive paintings on the wall, and the pool in the backyard, probably way too big for a family of four.
You catch the faint smell of popcorn from the kitchen, as Lyla places your bags by the stairs, “Where's Gigi?” you ask
“Shes setting up in the movie room, im trying to finish the popcorn” Lyla says going to the kitchen
You walk down the hall you've grown familiar with, observing the pictures on the wall of Gigi's family
“Y/n- how do you disconnect a Playstation from the TV? Jay didn't even bother to.” She says, clicking random buttons on the remote. You laugh walking over to help her
୨♡୧
“Okay all I have to say is when I get married and stuff, im making my husband buy me that specific set.” Lyla says over the runway music, making you and Gigi laugh because she practically yells over how loud it is.
You open your mouth to speak but stop when all three of your eyes go to the door as it opens, Heeseung walks in pausing as his eyes go to the large TV screen “Holy shit- are you guys watching porn?” He says, looking at the model on the stage, the space instantly feels smaller as Sunghoon pushes past him to get in the room “We’re not watching porn!” Gigi says, pausing the TV
Lyla is just staring at Heeseung, Jay walks in next “Gigi what the hell are you watching-”
“Did we interrupt your group gooning session?” Heeseung says. You watch Gigi's face flush red, now clearly visible since Jay turned on the lights.
“Jay- You said you were going to that stupid ass party tonight!” She says walking over to him “Yeah well it got cancelled.” He says, rolling his eyes. “Bruh I've been wanting to play the ps5 all day” Sunghoon says before looking at the TV again
“Do we not literally have a room for you to do just that?” Gigi says, eyeing down Sunghoon, before looking back at her brother.
“Dude someone left a whole bag of popcorn in the microwave-” Jake walks in pausing when he sees everyone in here, his eyes land on you for a split second before looking at the TV “What are they watch-”
“Its not fucking porn! You all are so stupid!” Gigi says before her eyes snap back to Jay “I literally said I was having Y/n and Lyla over in our messages!”
“Yeah well I forgot” He rolls his eyes again, you cant help but observe the other four boys, you watch Heeseungs eyes, following them to Lyla.. that has to be considered eye fucking.
You can't help but look at Jake though, he's wearing glasses. Are they prescription? He’s looking at something on his phone. He just showed Sunghoon something on his phone that made him smile. Sunghoon looks at you for a second before nudging Jake's shoulder, Jake is looking at you- is he looking behind you? You turn your head slightly, before looking back at him, why is he smirking-
“Fine! You keep the movie room well just go in the living room. Just don't snitch” Jay pleads, not even embarrassed that he's begging in front of his friends, Gigi just beams proudly, knowing she's won when they walk out.
୨♡୧
“She’s a virgin?!” Jake practically yells, making Heeseung, and Sunghoon's eyes snap to him.
“You’re so fucking lucky the movie room is noise cancellation.” Jay says pinching his eyebrows
“And- I don't even know if it's true, I just over heard Gi talking on the phone with her and Lyla a few weeks back” Heeseung and Sunghoons attention on the movie long forgotten
“Are you talking about y/n?” Heeseung asks curiously
“There's no way, I mean yeah she's like quiet and shit but she has some experience right?” Sunghoon adds
“I don't know man, but her and Gi became friends at the beginning of the school year, she's been over a few times. She's pretty chill.” Jay says
“So she doesn't have a boyfriend?” Jake asks, brow raising
“I thought you liked them experienced Jake? You fuck with little virgins now or what?” Heeseung says smirking
“I mean she’s cute, nothing wrong with teaching her a thing or two” Jake says with a knowing look on his face
“She doesn't really talk to guys though–like at all. Gi always complains that she’s too busy studying. But she's hella smart, tutoring and shit-”
“Wait, she tutors?” Jake's ears perk up at that
“Yeah she came over to help Gigi with chem the other day.” Jay says casually, like he didn't just give him the golden ticket to your personal space
“Are you serious?” Sunghoon says looking at him
Heeseung glances between the two, picking up what they're hinting at. “It's kinda risky, I mean girls like that- they aren't like, easy you know? Plus you're literally one of the smartest on the team.”
“You think she's actually gonna be interested though?” Jay asks
“I bet she'll see through that shit the first tutoring lesson honestly” Sunghoon says, making Heeseung laugh
“You think I only pull the easy ones?” Jake watching the both of them
“Thats all you’ve done this whole time-” Heeseung starts
“Alright bet.” Jake says, making the three of them pause
“Bet?”
“Yeah, I'll get her to fall for me.” Jake says confidently
“Yeah right” Heeseung adds
“Shit- I mean what about Clara though?” Sunghoon asks
“What about her? Im not fucking her anymore”
“You realise the shit she's gonna give y/n if you actually go through with that?” Jay says
“You’re basically setting her up for failure, Claras fucking crazy.” Heeseung says
“I still dont know why you decided to fuck her in the first place” he adds
“Probably because of her personality.” Jay says through a laugh
“Nah fuck her, she wont mess with y/n like that, shes not that desperate.” Jake says, but deep down he doesn't know if it's 100% true. Is he really setting you up for failure with this?
He's pulled from his thoughts when you come walking out of the movie room, coincidentally.
He only saw you sitting down, but now he's taking you in fully. Hoodie, shorts, fluffy…cat socks.
You pause when you see them all staring at you before awkwardly smiling and going to the kitchen to grab more popcorn.
Lyla and Gigi sent you out because they got it last time, but that's when there wasn't a group of guys you hardly knew in the living room.
Jay nudges Jake's shoulder before glancing to the kitchen, hesitating a beat before standing up and walking over.
You're looking through the five different popcorn options, who even needs that much popcorn anyway.
He watches as you choose the ‘extra butter’ one before speaking “Good choice” He says, walking further into the kitchen
“Oh- um thanks, it's the best one” You say, opening the microwave to put the popcorn in, he looks down at your legs, then back at your face when you turn around
“Y/n right?” He says, watching your face
“Yeah, I know who you are already though.” fingers toying with the end of your hoodie
“Oh? You've been to a game?” He says, taking a step closer
“No- I mean, I don't really watch football like that or anything- or sports” You say, looking back at how much time is on the popcorn, 50 seconds.
50 more seconds of this extremely weird interaction between you and one of the most popular guys in school.
He notices, he doesn't like that. “Y’know we have the same 3rd block.”
“Oh- AP Anatomy & Physiology?" You ask, but you know exactly what he's talking about, how could you not. He’s the 9th one to arrive in class everyday, everyone swarms his desk like a bunch of baby ducks just to talk to him.
“Yeah, I sit in the third row-” He's pauses when the beep of the microwave interrupts him, you silently thank the universe before pulling the popcorn out and mumbling something like “enjoy your movie” before practically running back to the movie room, leaving Jake confused, but also intrigued, most girls fall to their knees the second he gets within a 5 feet radius, so why did you just run away..
He walks back to the living room, sitting down, “Told you, easy ones only” Heeseung says through a laugh
୨♡୧
You're the first person to walk into AP Anatomy & Physiolgy on Monday, as always. You take your usual assigned, unassigned seat in the back row by the window, unpacking your bag, getting settled.
Your teacher walks in shortly after, she’s gotten used to you being here first. “Y/n” she says over the silence “Yes?”
“Are you okay with talking about how you're offering tutoring?” setting her own stuff down
"I'll have you do it at the end of class.” she adds. “Oh- yeah, I printed flyers for it too.” You say, and she smiles.
The students slowly file in, your eyes flick up to the door when the 9th person comes in. Jake.
The second he walks in his eyes are on you, you don't know why you feel hot all the sudden, like someone turned up the heater when he looks at you
Barely having any time to take in his outfit, you tap your pen on your paper, hoodie and jeans maybe?
You stop when you see the familiar frame take a seat next to you- Why is Jake sitting next to you, does he not always sit in the third row- You don't look at him, instead looking down at his shoe in your peripheral vision, because it would be weird to look at him. Even if you do feel his eyes on you.
The class flies by, you write down whatever your teacher puts on the board, trying not to be distracted by the noticeable presence beside you, if he had an aura around him, it would be clashing into yours because this whole time you've been weirdly affected by his close proximity.
“..And y/n has something to say as well.” Your teacher says, pulling you from your thoughts,you watch as everyone's heads turns to you before you stand up and walk to the front, clearing your throat
“Hi- im offering tutoring for anyone who needs extra help, any subject, um- here are the flyers if you're interested.” you say quickly before placing them on the teachers desk and walking back to your seat.
There's nothing you hate more than public speaking like that, you try to subtly calm your breathing. Jakes eyes are focused on you the whole time.
As soon as the bell rings you’re practically already out the door, Jake watches you stand up abruptly and rush out before he goes to the teachers desk to grab one of the flyers.
୨♡୧
“I don't know- she didn't even spare me a glance, like at all.” Jake says, setting his bag down on the bench in the locker room
“I told you, she doesn't talk to guys like that” Jay mutters, tying his shoe
“Pretty boy lost his charm huh?” Heeseung chuckles, shutting the door behind him
“Not completely” Jake says, pulling out your tutoring flyer from his bag
“You sneaky motherfucker-” Sunghoon eyes him, grabbing the paper from his hands
“Holy shit- you're actually going through with that?” Heeseung looks over Sunghoon's shoulder
“Just to prove a point?” Sunghoon asks
Jake doesn’t have time to reply before the Coach comes in, yelling at them to ‘get the fuck out the locker room’
୨♡୧
As soon as you get home, you pause when you see a suitcase by the door. “Oh y/n- took you long enough, you remember Chris right?” She say’s coming out of her room with a duffel bag
“The guy you went on a date with?” You ask, seting your backpack down
“Yeah, the rich one” She says with a smirk
“Anyways, he’s taking me to Boston for a trip!” She says excitingly
“Boston- what? Didnt you just meet him though?” You ask, brow raising in confusion
“I think he might be the one” She says smiling, the same smile she’s put on every time she says that.
“Um- well how long?” you ask, trying to register this whole thing
“Hmm- like 2 and half weeks-”
“2 and a half?! Mom- what the hell?”
“Calm down, I hate when you get like this y/n.” She says, putting her duffel bag on her shoulder
“Theres money for food, and whatever you need on the counter. It's not like I'm leaving you here to starve.”
“But-”
“Shit- I gotta go, ill call you when we land okay?” She says, giving you an awkward side hug before rushing out, leaving you confused as ever. This is what always happens though so you don't know why you're confused. She’s probably just doing it for the money anyway. Marry a rich man, use him to provide for us. It's pathetic.
The time was 9:46 when you receive the message. A number you don't know, you click on it
Unknown: Hey, Is this y/n?
You: Who is this?
Unknown: I got this number from your tutoring flyers
sitting up, this is the first person to actually text you about that
You: Oh yeah, what subject do you need help with?
Unknown: AP Anatomy & Physiology
You: Okay perfect, I have an A in that class so I can definitely help
You get your notebook out and a pencil
You: How soon do you want to start? And what's your first and last name
Unknown: Can we start tomorrow? I have practice everyday except Tuesdays
Practice? No way. You feel your heart beat pick up, This cant be–
Unknown: First names Jake, last names Sim.
The Jake Sim is texting you, about.. Tutoring. Is he not one of the top students though? You take a deep breath before typing back a reply
You: Okay, Tomorrow works. Does after school in the library work for you?
Jake Sim: Yeah im good with that
Jake Sim: I’ll see you tomorrow y/n
You shut your phone off, trying to ignore the way your palms are sweating a little too much right now, who even uses peoples names like that in messages?
Jake smiles down at his phone before swiping out of the chat.
୨♡୧
You're early. You're also early everywhere you go. You already set up your computer, and notebook with his name at the top, even after you erased it 3 times.
He walks in, you notice immediately, looking up from your paper, his hair is framing his face, no glasses today. White shirt with jeans. He smiles before sitting down across from you, you smile back, trying to seem less awkward.
You try to remind yourself, this is a mere tutoring lesson, so you'll act like it.
“So I just need to know what you're struggling on before we actually get into the teaching stuff.” you say looking at him, his eye contact is intense, it's hard to hold it.
He pulls out his own notebook
“Mainly muscle contractions,heart anatomy, and” He pauses before looking up at you “-Hormones.” You hesitate a beat before writing that down under his name. He notices.
“Okay, I can work with this- is there anything specific you don't understand? Is it a focusing thing?” You ask, genuinely concerned “I actually pulled up your average and you seem to be doing fine-”
“It's my memory” He says quickly “I have a hard time understanding, when the teacher talks it doesn't really comprehend well.”
“Oh- that's completely normal, are you more hands on?” You ask
He smirks “And visual.”
You look like you're actually deep in thought “Okay so, we would need to do more interactive studying, makes sense.” You say writing more stuff down
He watches you, the way your brows furrow in thought.
“Are you going to the game next Friday?” He says, your eyes flick up to him, confused at the sudden question
“I don't really go to football games or anything- Thats more Lyla and Gigi” You say, eyes traveling down for a split second when his tongue wets his bottom lip
“You should come” He says casually, like time has no affect on him
“We really should stay on task“
“If I pass the test next week will you come?”
Your caught off guard by the question, his heavy gaze on you making it worse
“Um- I’ll think about it” You say before writing more stuff down, he smiles slightly
୨♡୧
The next week goes by quickly, thankfully. Your mom has only called once, claiming she forgot to say she landed, even if it was a day later.
Home is lonely, its quiet but its good for studying. Your thoughts drift to Gigis family sometimes, even though her and her brother argue half the time, at least she has someone.
You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear your name being called, not by the familiar voice of your friends but by..Jake?
Lyla and Gigi both look behind you, eye brows raised as he comes closer, standing infront of your table in the cafeteria
You watch the way people look at him, the heads turning to you, the attention—it’s too much
“Y/n” He says looking down at you
“I might be a little late for tutoring today, coach wants to talk to us about the game.” He says, making Lyla and Gigi’s eyes flick between you two
“Um- Okay, But you couldn’t have messaged me that?” you say, trying to ignore the gazes on you from people you’ve never spoken to in your life.
“I mean you were already here so-“
“Yeah just text me next time okay?” You say, avoiding eye contact
He looks over at his friends, watching their snickers. Oh hell no.
You think he’s going to walk away by now but he sits down, right next to you. That makes Lyla's jaw practically drop
“Why? You don’t like talking to me?” He says, watching you intently
“I never said that- you just cause a lot of..attention.” You say, looking around before looking at him
“You don’t like attention?”
“Not from this many people.” You say standing up, grabbing your bag
“Where are you going-“
“I have to go.” You mumble before putting your bag over your shoulder and walking out the cafeteria, not looking back because you know if you do, everyones eyes will be on you.
As soon as the doors shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“Really?” Gigi asks, watching Jakes confused face
“You realize you’re like a magnet for attention right?” Lyla says
“And there’s nothing she hates more then that.”
“I was just asking her about tutoring.” Jake says, standing up to walk back to his friends
“Nice job man, you really do still got it huh?” Heeseung says through a smirk, making the others stifle their laughs
“Should’ve put money on it” Sunghoon adds, earning a glare from Jake
୨♡୧
Jake came in late like he said, 15 minutes to be exact. He looked out of breath, like he ran here.
The tutoring session was fine, you kept that professional exterior even if you were trying not to feel embarrassed about earlier, thankfully he didn't bring it up.
“Aren't hormones just when you're horny?” He asks, pencil raised above his paper, looking at you
You pause “Did you really just ask me that-” You didn't mean to say it out loud but you did, it makes him let out a chuckle, he bites his lip, something he does often, a little too often. To the point where you can't help your eyes follow when he does it.
“Okay um, let me think of how to word this” you say, looking down at your paper before back up at him “It’s not just what makes you- ‘horny’ but I guess that could be a way to describe it, a more..scientifical word is Steroid Hormones..”
He watches you talk, even if what your saying is hardly registering to him, because not only are you talking to him about sex hormones or whatever it is, but you're not wearing the same knit sweater you had on earlier, you must have taken it off, because he cant pull his eyes away from the way your tits look in that tank top-
“Jake?” Your voice cuts through his thoughts, his eyes find yours again.
“How are you supposed to pass this test when you can’t even focus?” You ask, completely unaware of how he was just looking at you
“Shit- sorry, what were you saying” He says a little bit more nervously than he intended, why is he so damn nervous, why do you even make him nervous?
“Hm, you need something to do with your hands.” You say casually, taking him by surprise
His mind races with what you mean, please, please ask him to finger you.
He pauses when you pull out a rubix cube, a fucking rubix cube and hand it to him- what the fuck is he supposed to do with this shit?
“You said you were more hands on, one of the other students I tutor is also like that. Whenever she uses that, it's like she’s more focused, you should try it.” You say smiling, encouraging.
He doesn't know why he feels relieved when he hears the word ‘she’, but he does.
He takes the object from your hand, fidgeting with it for a few seconds before you continue
The rest of the lesson is smooth, who knew a rubix cube would actually work. You try to stay focused yourself though.
The constant bounce of your leg to settle whatever your feeling when you watch the way his fingers work the object in his hand, it should be illegal to have that many veins in the first place.
Later that night, in one of your moments where you give yourself a break from studying.
Heating up the leftover pasta you made the other night, you get a text. Your body reacts before your mind does, heartbeat picking up
Jake Sim: I tried the practice test thing you showed me earlier
Jake Sim: Got a 100%
You smile, when he sends a picture of his laptop, the score on it saying just that
You: Good job
He frowns at his phone, that's all? No titty pic as a reward?
Jake Sim: Guess I'll be seeing you at Friday's game then :)
You: Well see if your studying shows then
Jake Sim: I'll make sure it does
୨♡୧
“Y/N!” you hear Jake yell after you, you stop to turn around, seeing him walking up to you, leaving Heeseung and Jay’s side as he comes into step beside you.
You’re still not used to the pointed looks you get from the people around you, but you're training yourself to pretend they aren't there.
Heeseung and Jay watch as Jake rushes to you like a damn puppy, looking at each other.
He hands you a paper, you take it looking down at the big 100% on the top “You actually did it!” You say smiling, before looking up at him beside you
He puts a hand on his chest, with a fake gasp “And to think you doubted me” He stops at the cafeteria door, pulling you aside before you walk in, facing you away from the people who keep looking at you. The nosy motherfuckers who can’t help but take attention to you ever since he’s became—friends? With you.
“So you'll come to the game then right?” He asks, doing that thing where he bites his lip
“Thats what we agreed on, plus Lyla and Gigi are going too” You say, watching the way his eyes light up
The last few people file in the cafeteria, leaving you and him alone.
“Y’know what the theme is right?” He asks, and this time you're genuinely caught off guard- theme? He notices your confusion right away
“Every game has a theme, pretty sure this one’s western, like cowboys and shit” He says watching your face, the way your eyebrows knit in uncertainty
“Lyla and Gigi didn't tell you?”, you shake your head softly
“Im surprised- they always go like all out for the themes” He says through a quiet laugh
Great. That only means they are going to make you go all out too.
You both pause when the final bell rings, walking in to the cafeteria like its the most normal thing, your steps falter when you feel the eyes on you, you look at your friends before glancing at Jakes group- why are they all staring at you-
“I’ll see you later y/n” He smiles before walking to his table, you sit down in front of Lyla and Gigi who are both looking at you knowingly
“What?” you say through an awkward laugh
“You know damn well what” Lyla says through a smirk
“Tutoring my ass” Gigi adds back
“Girl I do not look at my tutor like that” Lyla says, holding back a laugh
“Like what-?”
“Like I want to eat him the fuck up- because thats how The Jake sim was just looking at your ass-” You almost choke on your water, making her and Gigi laugh
You look down at the table to hide your blush “Well, you guys also didnt tell me there was a theme at the game.” You say, crossing your arms
“Okay when was the last time you checked the group chat y/n” Gigi asks, you pull out your phone
“This morning..” You say scrolling through the message thread
Lyla: Okay so what are we wearing tn
Gigi: Themes cowboy right?
Gigi: You know how much my mom and dad LOVE that costume shit
Gigi: I have so much stuff for it at my house
Lyla: Wow gigi inviting us over
Gigi: I can take u guys home after school
Lyla: YES
Lyla: We have to look GOOD, especially you y/n
Lyla: For you know
Gigi: Jake
Lyla: Okay shes probs not even on her phone
You swipe out, just to see if your mom said anything, you click on the messages to see a sunset picture and city buildings, typical.
“So, can you come?” Lyla asks
“Yeah sure- but we don’t have to go all out right?”
They look at each other before looking at you, the smile on their faces tells you everything you need to know
୨♡୧
“This feels like a lot..” You say looking at your outfit in her bedroom mirror
“No y/n- you look like, hot.” Lyla says, choosing one of the 7 cowboy hats Gigi brought out
“This is the final touch” She says before putting it on your head
This is quite literally the opposite of you, completely. It’s something you would never wear if it weren't for them, you wonder what your old self before you transferred schools would think. From the white fitted shirt, to the jean skirt, down to the—cowboy boots..
You adjust the red bandana on your neck so its not choking you uncomfortably
Gigi watches your worried face “I promise the others will be doing 10x more than us.” She reassures you, you look at them in the mirror, Lyla's shorts that hug her curves, Gigi’s shirt that compliments her body perfectly.
This feels very..them. You can't help but feel like an outsider trying to fit in.
“Jake will love it” Lyla says, hiding her smirk
“What- Jake?” The thought of Jake seeing you in this makes you nervous..but also exited? What would he think, would he expect you to wear this?
You're pulled from your thoughts when the man himself sends you a message
Jake Sim: Hey y/n were gonna grab food after the game
Jake Sim: Wanna come?
Jake Sim: Lyla and Gigi can come to
Jake Sim: I already told Jay not to bitch abt it lol
Your fingers hover over the screen
"Quadruple text is crazy” Lyla says through a smile
Gigi peaks over your shoulder “I do not want to hang out with my brother for fun.” She says, rolling her eyes
“Come on Gi! The others will be there too and! Heeseung’s fine ass” Lyla says, looking in the mirror to adjust her push up bra
Gigi just puts on her boots with a shrug
“Y/n say yes please!” Lyla says, practically jumping up and down
“Fine- fine”
You: Yeah sure.
“Um- Thats all?” Lyla asks
“What do you mean?”
“I don't know, maybe say something like ‘I'm so excited!’ or ‘good luck!- you know what just give me the phone.” Lyla says snatching it from your hand and sending a message
You: Good luck Jakey! I'll be cheering you on! ;)
“What the hell- is there a way to delete this, how do I-”
“Really Ly? He’s gonna know thats not y/n, she like never uses emojis” Gigi says cringing
“Maybe if he wins he'll give you good dick?” Lyla says shrugging
Your face goes red, this topic, talking about him-
“Yeah so that definitely wasn't her” Jake says putting on his cleats
“Jakey? Really?” Sunghoon mimicks
“I wouldn’t doubt if Lyla took her phone honestly.” Jay mutters
“Lyla's coming right?” Heeseung asks, putting on his jersey
His friends look at him “Why?”
“I mean shes hot as fuck dude, plus she totally looks at me all the time” He adds, fixing his hair in the locker mirror
“Yeah she's coming” Jake says, looking back down at the messages
୨♡୧
When you, Gigi, and Lyla get to the game a little earlier, they were not joking about people going all out. Compared to everyone else, your outfit was tame to say the least.
You three find a spot in the bleachers, your eyes scanning the field for one specific person.
You watch him, he’s drinking water on the side right now- his helmet is in his other hand, how can someone look so good drinking water.
You watch as Heeseung nudges Jake's shoulder beside him, and then Jake's eyes are on you
“Holy fuck” He says to Heeseung
You cant see what they’re saying
“I mean she looks like a cowboys wet dream” Heeseung says, smirking
Jake gives him a pointed look, before turning back to you, the distance is good enough for him to see the way your skirt clings to your legs, and how good that shirt looks on you, Fuck.
He waves at you, you look behind to see if it was someone else but there's no one behind you yet, you turn back to see him smiling at you before offering a small wave back
Lyla and Gigi are both watching from beside you, eyes flicking between you and Jake
You watch as Heeseung yells at him, and as he puts his helmet on before running over to him, a smile that wont go away ever since he saw you plastered on his face
“You sure you're not just doing this for the love of the game” Heeseung says, putting in his mouth guard
It wasn't a question. It was a statement. A statement that might be right. Because this doesn't feel like some childish bet anymore.
The first half of them game goes well, you dont really understand much. But from the way Lyla, Gigi, and the rest of the students are cheering, thats definitely a good sign. “Im going to get water, do you guys want any?” you say, stepping off the bleachers
“Yeah- soda?” Lyla says, before looking back at the field where a very sweaty heeseung is spraying water in his mouth
You nod before walking to the concessions, the line isn't too bad, so you just pull out your phone to scroll, when two girls come behind you, you wouldn't care normally but its what they're talking about that makes your hand pause over your screen
“I mean he hasn't even looked at me this whole time, which is crazy because not even a month ago he had me sucking his dick!” One of the girls says, you look down to see pink cowboy boots
“His very big dick” Her friend says
“Ridiculously big. Fuck I miss it im not gonna lie.”
“Isn’t he fucking with a new girl now though?” You hear her friend say, you watch as the person in front of you takes way too long to order
“Yeah some nerd ass bitch, teachers pet apparently”
“I don't know Clara, she's like hella smart”
You shut your eyes for a second, Clara, you recognize that name. That's the same girl who yelled at Jake in the cafeteria that one time
“I don't care how smart she is, that's literally my man”
“Girl- he literally dropped your ass in front of the whole cafeteria..”
Your attention is brought back when it's your turn to order, you pay for the drinks before going back, doing your best to avoid turning around.
“Y/n?” Lyla says, when you hand her the sprite
“You look like you've seen a ghost, are you good?” Gigi asks, concern laced in her tone
“Yeah im good” You say offering a tight smile, the bandana on your neck suddenly feeling too tight.
It feels like someone has their hand around your heart, squeezing it, because why did hearing those things make you feel this way– Why is Jake even talking to you? Why did he even invite you in the first place?
You watch as the starting players go back on the field, but your mind can't focus when all these questions are flooding in. What does someone like him even want with you.
୨♡୧
You look down at your phone
Jake Sim: Hey me and the guys will be out in 5 mins
You read the message, before putting your phone in the pocket of your skirt, people are still hanging around, the players usually shower after a game apparently.
Exactly 5 minutes later Jake comes out, jeans, and a black zip up hoodie with a white shirt underneath, his bag is on his shoulder, his hair is still wet from the shower, and you cant help the heat that goes to your face when he waves to you.
You look past him to see the rest of his friends coming out behind him, you see Heeseung whisper something in Jake's ear that makes him roll his eyes.
“Good job- you were great out there” You say, fixing the cowboy hat on your head
“I had good motivation” He says, eyes on your face before they drift to your clothes, finally seeing you up close like this.
“Alright can we go now? Im hungry as fuck.” Jay says, interrupting the moment
You turn to Lyla, who's talking to Heeseung, then to Gigi who shrugs
“Y/n, I can drive us” Jake says, bringing your attention back to him
“Oh its fine I dont-”
“That's a great Idea!” Lyla says a little too loud, making everyone's eyes go to her
“Theres not enough room in Gigi's car for all of us anyway, so it works out” She adds, calculating smile plastered on her face, she ignores the pointed look you give her
“Alright yeah whatever can we just go now before I die of starvation” Jay says, making Gigi roll her eyes “fat ass.” She mutters before walking to her car
“You did not just call me a fat ass Gi- Weren’t you the one who ate all the fucking leftovers-” You and Jake watch them walk to the car, before you and him walk to his.
You curse Lyla for leaving you with him like this- when he smells so good and his hair is wet, and his hands-
“You look really pretty,” He says, putting his bag in the trunk before opening the passenger door for you. “Thank you-” You reply back quietly, trying to ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest.
But how many other girls has he said that too- that girl Clara?
He gets in the Drivers seat, and starts the car, watching the way you look out the window. Immediately noticing the way you shift
“So, for the first football game you went to, how was it?” he says pulling out of the parking lot
You turn slightly to look at him, the way his face concentrates on the rode, but also managing to talk to you “It was fun” You smile before looking back out the window
“Did you get anything from the concessions? I heard they added slushies and stuff.” He says, tapping his finger on the steering wheel, trying to seem unbothered by the way your energy shifted the second you stepped foot in his car
The mention of drinks has your mind going back to the conversation you heard earlier, what if those girls had knew you where the one they were talking about–
“Yeah just some, um..water and stuff” You say, trying to avoid the way his eyes are pinned on your head
4 minutes of silence pass, except for the low music playing from the speakers, and the car's engine.
“Is everything good?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the road ahead
“What– yeah of course, why wouldn't it be.” You say quickly, fingers toying with the hem of your jean skirt.
He doesn't buy it.
Your brows furrow in confusion when he pulls over, looking at him as he puts the car and park “What are you doing-”
“Tell me what's wrong” he says, hand still on the steering wheel, but eyes on you
“Nothing's wrong?” You feel that familiar heaviness on your chest
“Y/n. you can't even look at me, did I do something?” He asks, knuckles white from how hard he's gripping the steering wheel
“You can tell me whatever it is-”
“Why do you talk to me?” You ask, finally looking at him
“I..I just don't understand– all the sudden it goes from you not even looking at me, and then you're asking to be tutored by me, and then you invite me to your game, and then im in your car-” you continue, your heart beat rising with how much words you're saying in one breath. He doesn't interrupt you.
“And I really didn't think you needed to be tutored, honestly, you're one of the top students in our class- no, in our grade. But I did anyway, it honestly just feels like you pity me. Because why would someone like you want to be friends with someone like me– It just doesn't make any sense.” You stop, breathing in heavy breathes, too aware of how close he is right now, how he's looking at you.
“I don't pity you y/n. I like spending time with you.” He says, watching your face
“Fuck- I mean, I took the flyer and the tutoring because I wanted to spend that time with you- whenever I tried to talk to you any other way you just– blew me off?” He says, contemplating his words
He looks down at his hands before back up at you, noticing the way your features slightly soften
He lifts his hand to take the hat off your head, so he can fully see your face
“Why would someone like me want to be friends with you?” He repeats your question, you didn't realise how close you two got, faces nearly an inch away from each other
“I don't want to be friends y/n. I want more than that–I fucking crave more than that” His gaze drops to your lips, a silent question
“Jake-” You whisper out before he presses his lips to yours,you instantly melt at the contact, your hand finds the collar of his shirt, attempting to tug him closer over the center console, his hand holds the back of your head, threading his finger in your hair, he moves his lips against yours, slowly, testing, you follow his lead, letting go instead of taking control. He feels the way you let him, unable to hold the small groan that travels its way to your mouth through the kiss.
You pull back, breathing hard, opening your eyes to look at him, his lips have a slight shine from your saliva, he licks them before looking into your eyes.
You don't know what you're doing, you've never even done anything like this before, but the way he’s looking at you, like you absolutely wrecked him gives you a new found confidence.
You sit up, before moving to get over the center console, he just watches you as you settle on his lap, his hands immediately resting on your waist “y/n-”
“just kiss me” You say, and he doesnt hesitate before pressing his lips against yours, this time its lessed controlled, he doesnt hold himself back.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his hands are touching everywhere, sliding up and down your back, before cupping your ass in his hands making you gasp into his mouth, he swallows that down, tongue running over your bottom lip.
You feel the heat pooling between your legs, shifting slightly, which makes him let out a broken sound before looking down, the way your skirt is riding up, how you’re sitting right on his hardening cock, he looks back at your face, kissing the corner of your mouth before he pulls you on him more, the friction making you let out a quiet sound– he needs to fucking hear it again, and you need to feel it again.
It starts off slow, testing, in the way you roll your hips on him, you watch him throw his head back “Fuck, baby-” You grind down a little harder, in response to the name, he rolls his hips with you, the seam of his jeans catching your clit just right through your underwear, enough to make you let out small sounds that has his eyes rolling
He leans in to kiss you again, hands splayed on your ass to pull you impossibly closer, the kiss is desperate, frantic, tongues moving together in a rhythm like you were made for each other, there's no leader, no follower, this is just- the two of you.
“J-jake–” you let out, biting your lip when he grinds up, hitting the perfect spot, hes pulling you against him, controlling the way your hips move, fingers digging into the soft flesh through your skirt, He slides his hand underneath the denim fabric, to really feel you, groaning into your mouth at how warm and soft you are in his hands.
“You’re going to kill me-” You both freeze when a loud ringtone comes from his phone.
“Shit- I forgot about the plans” he says, looking at his phone
Jay: Dude where the hell are you
Jay: Im srsly abt to order with out you
Sunghoon: we got u and y/n waters
Jay: -Missed call-
“We should probably-”
“Yeah”
The warmth of your body is removed like a flash when you sit back down in the passenger seat, fixing your skirt, he tries to ignore the way his dick is throbbing in his jeans right now. Instead he watches you, the flush on your cheeks, the small smile that's barely noticeable
“What?” You say through a chuckle, noticing his stare
“Im just really lucky” He says, before putting the car into drive and getting back on the road, even when you two get out of the car, walking into the restaurant, you’re still thinking about what he said.
Because no one has ever told you they were lucky to have you.
୨♡୧
The next week of school is fun, and easy. You still decide to tutor Jake, because he said it really helped him.
Even if it did lead to small kisses, you definitely weren't complaining. People still look at you two when you walk together in the hallway, he even invited you to sit with him in the caferitria with his friendgroup, they are actually really nice to you.
The best part is seeing Gigi and Jay argue, it's like having your own show to watch while you eat
You don't miss the way Heeseung and Lyla look at each other, or when coincidentally the both of them are late for lunch.
Under the table, Jake's hand is splayed across your thigh, everytime he laughs he squeezes it slightly, which makes you try and close them, but he notices. He notices everything when it comes to you.
“..And not to mention Gigi’s parents bought the good ice cream” Lyla says, practically about to burst from excitement
“Okay so it's like a pool party then?” Sunghoon says, raising his eyebrow
“Well, just like with us though.” Gigi says
“Im not trying to have half the school trash the house, especially when mom and dad get back tomorrow.” She adds, you watch Jay nod
“Im in” Heeseung says, turning to watch Lyla “Perfect! What about you and Jake?” She says turning to you both
“Yeah im down” he smiles before looking at you
“Um- Ill have to check, but ill text you when I get home” You say, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear
“Okay, perfect!” She squeals
“Just come over any time after school then” Jay says
You nod before glancing down at your phone, re reading the message from your mom
Mom: Me and Chris decided to stay a little longer, you have enough money for food still right?
Jake watches you “Are you okay?” he says, quietly so no one else can hear
“Oh yeah- im fine” You say, putting your phone down and smiling
୨♡୧
“I can't do this.” You say as soon as you close Gigi’s bedroom door behind you
They both look at you as you pull out the bathing suit from your tote bag, you watch Gigi cover her mouth to stifle a laugh
“You can’t be serious” Lyla says, standing up to take the middle school one piece swimsuit from your hands
“This thing is hideous” She holds it up in the air
“Im not one to judge but you absolutely cannot wear that y/n” Gigi says, standing up to look at it closer
You bury your face in your hands, sitting down on her bed
“I brought like 5 different bathing suits, plus Gigi has a shit ton, and you are most definitely borrowing one.” Lyla says, emptying her bag on the bed, you glance at the small strings, and shapes before looking up at her
“What? I wanted to bring my slutty ones, I thought Heeseung would like them” She says smiling proudly
“And im sure jake will” She adds, wiggling her eyebrows
“You’re so ridiculous Ly” Gigi mutters before tying her hair in a bun
You pick up a red triangle bikini top, and Lyla nods
“Good choice, these are the bottoms” She says, holding them up
“These are bottoms? Like swimming bottoms?” you say, taking them from her hand
“Yup! Just try it on at least” She smiles sweetly, waiting for your approval, you nod
“Come downstairs when you’re done okay?” Gigi says, opening her bedroom door.
You look at yourself in the bathroom mirror, The bathing suit fits well, it's just..small. Like if you make one wrong move you'll definitely flash someone. You turn around to see how it looks from the back, not completely terrible- just a bit cheeky?
You think Jake might like it, not to mention the fact that you chose the red one because he mentioned he liked that color.
You pause when you hear the sound of male voices, they must be here. You take one last look at yourself before opening the door and almost getting knocked to your ass when you collide with something hard
“Shit- y/n?” You look up, Jake–Your eyes take in his form, the swim trunks, the white tank top perfectly stretched across his chest. His hair, messy, yet perfectly styled, before looking at his face. He’s smiling down at you
You're suddenly aware that you're practically half naked in front of him, You weren't even planning on going in the water, except for your feet–you need to grab your shorts and put them on “I was just uh, I just need my shorts–”
His hand trails down your shoulder, grabbing your hand before placing it on his chest, over his heart, you feel the fast beats of it, almost in sync with how quick yours is "You're making me nervous” he whispers, he takes a step forward so he's in the bathroom with you, shutting the door behind him softly
He leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, testing to see your reaction before he pulls back to look down at you, you put your hands on his shoulders before leaning to kiss him again, he reacts immediately, hands on you the second you touch him, his hand starts at your waist before moving down to cup your ass in his hand, you gasp at the feeling, he kneads the flesh in his hands, squeezing it while kissing you deeper “You look so fucking good baby” He says through heavy breaths, looking at your face
He moves until your pressed against the counter, before lifting you up on it, your legs spread slightly to make room for him, while keeping your lips on his.
The kiss is messy, desperate, his hands are on your hips, and you let out a muffled sound when he presses his hips against you, you feel it, the hardness of him against your thigh, you pull back to see the desperate look on his face, the way his cheeks are slightly red, his lips looking even more plump from your kisses
He takes his right hand from your waist, splaying it on your thigh, before he looks into your eyes, you nod.
You watch his hand inch higher, grazing your inner thigh, his finger tip brushes your core, making you shiver at the contact, he watches you intently before pressing his fingers against you, making you let out a shaken breath
Leaning in to brush his lips across your jaw, before slipping his fingers underneath the waistband of the bathing suit bottoms, finally feeling your warmth “Fuck, you’re so wet–” He says, looking down before kissing your neck, softly, reassuringly
He starts with small circles around your clit, testing to see what makes you feel good, your legs spread wider when he does small figure eights on your clit, hands braced on his shoulders as he presses open mouthed kisses to your neck, trailing up to your ear
His middle finger brushes your entrance, lightly, while his other hand comes up to move the hair out of your face
“Have you ever been fingered y/n?” He asks, voice low, watching the way your chest falls and rises, you shake your head “Do you want to be?” He says, biting his lip “Y-yes, I want you to, Jake” He presses his hard cock against your thigh, groaning at the permission
He connects his lips to yours, you let him in instantly, tongues dancing together before he slowly guides his finger in your entrance, “breathe baby, you're so tight” he whispers against your lips, you close your eyes when his finger goes deeper, making you let out a quiet moan, his single digit stays there, embraced by your warmth before he curls it slightly making you whimper in his mouth “Jake– “ you let out through a wispy breathe
He moves his thumb to circle around your clit, in lazy motions “can you take another, baby? It’ll feel even better” kissing your cheek softly, you nod and he pulls out his finger, before inserting two digits, making you let out a desperate sound at the stretch.
He kisses you, in attempt to quiet you down, before moving his fingers in and out of you, curling inside, rubbing your clit with practiced ease
Seeing you like this, overhwemled by the pleasure he’s bringing you could make him come right now.
“You’re so perfect baby- this pretty pussy’s taking my fingers so well” He whispers, the filthy things making you clench around his fingers, he adds more pressure to your sensitive bud, “j-jake im gonna-“
“You gonna come for me baby?” slightly picking up the pace his fingers are moving, fucking them in and out of you.
Your moans are only getting louder, he move his other hand to cover your mouth, muffling them so the others don't hear down stairs, he feels your hole fluttering around your fingers, so he moves them even faster, making it his life fucking goal to have you come from this
His eyes dont know what to focus on, switching from the way your tits slightly bounce, to the way his fingers disappear inside you, or to the way you’re looking at him, the dazed half lidded look, he presses against your clit just right, making you clench hard on his fingers as you ride your orgasm out, moaning into his hand, your juices coating his fingers and dripping out, he brings his hand back down from your mouth, watching the way your breathing slows, before pulling out his fingers, the loss of contact making you whimper with how sensitive you are
He brings his fingers up to his lips, locking eyes with you before putting them in his mouth, sucking your arousal off, the sight makes you let out a breathy sound, you can feel your pussy throbbing at the sight from exitement
You’re blushing from the filthy act, he brings his lips to yours capturing you in a kiss, you can slightly taste your arousal on his tounge “You’re so beautiful–” you both freeze when a knock on the bathroom door slices the moment in half
“Jake are you in there man? We’re trying to choose pizza toppings– the girls said they dont care whats on the pizza, they just went outside claming they didnt want to ‘waste tanning time’ I dont know-” jay rambles on
“Yeah im in here, ill be down in a sec” Jake says, forehead resting on yours before he pulls back
“Alright- and if you find y/n tell her to come down too” Jay adds
You and Jake listen to the sound of retreating footsteps
“We should probably go down there” he says, pulling back and helping you get off the counter
“Yeah i just need to get some shorts-” You watch as he pulls your bottoms back up, adjusting them before leaning down to press one more kiss to your lips
“I’ll see you in a few minutes” He says with that familiar smirk on his lips, before walking out and shutting the door behind him, he leans against it for a second, still trying to process what just happened, before adjusting his extremely hard cock in his bottoms, and making his way downstairs.
You look in the mirror, pressing your fingers against your lips, the feeling of him kissing you lingering. Your body is still burning from the aftermath of your orgasm. You fix your hair in the mirror, going back to Gigi’s room to put on your shorts
And finally making your way down the stairs, you pause halfway when you hear Heeseung's voice
“Who y/n?” You hear him say
“Who else dumbass?” Sunghoon replies
They're talking about you. instead of going downstairs you stay there, just to see what they're saying
“Have you told her?” Jay asks
“No–I can’t fucking tell her that”
“Yeah you’re cooked” heeseung says flatly
Cooked?
“I really like her, And not in some casual hook up way okay? I don’t know whats going on, and im confused because ive never felt this way before about someone–” Jake says, breathing hard
“Shit-” You hear his friends say
“I dont give a fuck about some dumb bet, it was stupid of me–”
Your heart drops. Bet? What does he mean by that?
“God- Why couldn't you just go after her like a normal person” jay says frustratingly
“You realise she’s gonna fucking hate you if you dont tell her” he adds
You walk further down the stairs, watching the way all four of them look at you
“W-what bet” You let out, hating yourself for stuttering
Jake's face drops in realization that you heard that, you don't even look at his friends, the ones who made you think they actually liked you. You just watch him. It was all just some play–
“What bet Jake?” you say again, trying to calm your heartbeat, as he walks over to you, reaching for your hand
You swat his hand away “dont fucking touch me” and he flinches at that, hardly visibly. But he does.
“Y/n-” He starts, you watch as the back porch door slides open, Gigi and Lyla walking in, with confused looks at the way everyone’s frozen in place, before their gazes fall on you
“Im going home. I- I can't do this” You say, suddenly too aware of how everyone is looking at you, unable to even look in Jake's eyes, you turn around for the front door, Jake calls your name again but you don't hear it.
Not over the sound of your heart, not over the ringing in your ears.
You can't speak when it feels like someone has a wire around your throat and you can't breathe.
You shut the front door behind you, sitting on the stairs immediately, trying to calm yourself, trying not to cry. You can't cry. Not here.
You don't look behind you when you hear the door open and shut, please don't be Jake.
“Y/n do you want me to drive you home?” you let out a relieved sigh when you hear Gigi’s voice, before standing up and nodding.
Gigi knows you, she knows you don't want to talk right now, so instead of pushing you, she turns up the music, looking at you every now and then as you stare out the window.
“You all can eat shit” Lyla says looking at the four boys in the kitchen
“Espeicially you Heeseung, for not fucking saying anything.” She says before looking at Jake
“Ly-” Heeseung starts watching Lyla walk over to Jake
“How could you do that to her? You’re fucking terrible.” She says before storming upstairs, leaving the four of them
“I need to do something- I need to call her” Jake says pulling out his phone, Jay stop his hand
“She needs space Jake.” He says, watching him as he lowers his phone
“Fuck.” Is all he says, because Fuck himself for being so stupid, fuck him for hurting you, fuck him for not telling you sooner, if anything he doesn't deserve your forgiveness.
But the least he can do is try.
୨♡୧
You cried as soon as you got home. You held it until Gigi drove off, she offered to stay but you never have people actually come inside.
Part of you regretted it, because you wish you had someone to hold you, even as you crumbled to the floor as soon as you shut the front door.
But you have no one. Not even you’re own mother, whose out with her new boyfriend, living her best life and leaving you in the past, like always.
Later that night you try and rememebr anything—how could you not see through it, of course it was some bet. He didnt mean anything he said to you, and you were stupid to think the most popular guy in the school wanted to ‘spend time with you’
Even as you shower, the memory of his hands on you not even 24 hours ago is still jarred in your mind, the reassuring touches, the praise.. But it was all just fake.
You couldnt sleep. For good reason. Every time you tried to close your eyes, your mind kept going back, trying to over analyze the situation, trying to think of an excuse.
It was 12:49 when you got the message
Jake sim: Y/n, im so sorry
Jake sim: Don’t shut me out
Jake sim: Please
Jake sim: Baby
Your press your hand to your chest, like it would stop the painful feeling in your heart.
You never answered him. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, you finally fell asleep, you didn’t bother checking the time you did, because you knew you would just pity yourself.
୨♡୧
On Monday, you’re not the first one in class. Jake was. He sat in his seat next to yours, eyes flicking from your desk to the door, waiting for you to come in.
As soon as you walk in, he sits up straight, watching you walk, not towards the seat next to him but to some random one in the second row, where the guy who never shows up would sit.
He watches you take your stuff out of your bag, he looks down at the way your leg bounces, he hates himself because he knows he’s the reason you’re so fucking anxious right now.
The teacher talks like its any other day. Of course she would, she’s not going to stop the school day because he fucked up. When the bell rings you’re the first one out, he goes to call your name but stops when you rush out of the door.
“I almost beat Jay’s ass, like actually.” Gigi says before taking a bite of the cafeteria sandwhich
“Mom and dad nearly crashed out when they came home and saw I already was pulling his hair” She adds
“Can he stop fucking staring already” Lyla says, looking at you then at the table 3 rows behind where Jake was looking right at you
“Im going over there” Jake says to his friends
“Uh no dude- you’re fucking not” Sunghoon says, tugging him back down by his shoulder
Jake shrugs him off before getting up to walk over to you, ignoring the exaggerated sighs from his table
“Oh shit” Gigi mutters
“He’s like actively walking over here y/n” Lyla adds
You turn your head slightly to see him walking towards you, before standing up
“Im going to the bathroom.” You say, grabbing your bag and moving towards the door
Jakes steps falter when he watches you get up, he wants to yell at you, tell you to stop walking away from him so bad. But he knows that would make it worse. He doesn’t look at Lyla and Gigi before turning around and going back to his table.
His friends are silent when he sits down, the usual snickers, or comments don’t come.
You set your bag down by the sink, bracing your hands on it, looking in the mirror, “don’t cry, don’t cry” you whisper to yourself
“I mean I don’t get whats so fucking special about her, shes just like normal-“ You pause when you see two girls walk in, blonde, Clara.
“Well look who it is” She says walking further in, her friend beside her
“Jakes little slut” She coos, looking you up and down judgementally
“Im not-“ You start but she cuts you off
“I want you to stop talking to him.” she says, crossing her arms over her chest
“Clara-“ her friend starts
“No, this bitch needs to fuck off my man”
“You can have him.” You say, voice low
They look at each other confused
“I said you can have him.” you say, louder
“Just leave me alone.” you mutter, putting your bag over your shoulder
“The fuck-“ she starts when you walk past her before pulling you by your bag strap
She pulls your bag off your shoulder, making it fall to the ground with a thud, you don’t turn around.
You wait for the hit. Because you’re used to this, You close your eyes, tight. Trying to block off everything, when you hear Lyla
“What the fuck are you doing Clara?!” She yells, Gigi following in beside you
“Just teaching this bitch a lesson to not mess with my man-“
“Your man?” Gigi says with a scoff
“You need a fucking reality check because he does not want your ass” She adds, picking your bag up from the floor
Lyla comes infront of you “Y/n are you okay?” you nod, not because you’re okay, but because you have to be.
You block out the sound of them arguing, taking your bag from Gigi before walking out. Of course this would happen to you, and of course you’re running away.
୨♡୧
You dont talk about what happened the next day, they dont bring it up either.
They were laughing at something on Lylas phone when you got a text
Jake Sim: Are we still on for tutoring?
Jake Sim: In the library right?
You look back for a split second, over your shoulder to see him looking at you, his phone in his hand, you turn back around almost immediately, typing out a response, deleting it and typing it again
You: -Sent contact-
You: If you need tutoring so bad, he does Tuesdays too. Stop texting me.
You shut off your phone, putting it in your pocket, he watches.
Its like everything around him is silent. He cant fucking focus, coach even gave him shit for not doing good at practice yesterday. He tries to act normal, but the affect you have on him isn’t something that can go away.
“Earth to Jake” Heeseung snaps in his face to get his attention
“Motherfucker thinks he’s Jeff buckley” Sunghoon says through a snort
“Brought it on himself” Jay shrugs
“I need to get drunk” Jake says, running his hands through his hair, something hes been doing often lately
“And laid” Heeseung adds
“I can’t think about fucking another girl right now” He says, checking his phone again in hopes you sent a message
“I mean I heard Jungwon’s throwing a party after the game on Friday” Jay says, looking at the group
“Who’s going?” Jake asks
“Shit—if its Jungwon then probably half the school” Heeseung says, rubbing his jaw
“You know what, why not. The alcohol better not be shit” Jake says, making them laugh
୨♡୧
“Please y/n! We can come pick you up and everything, I know you’re not going to be doing anything either” Lyla says through the speakers of your phone
“Yeah, Fuck him, you deserve to go out, for once?” Gigi adds
“We know you’re not all that party type but just this once! Plus Jungwons house is nice as hell”
“I don’t know guys—What if he’s there?” you say worried, unlocking the front door to your house and shutting it behind you
“If he was going, Jay would have said something. I know they have a game tonight so I doubt they’re gonna wanna go to a party.” Gigi says, opening a bag of chips
“Okay but what am I supposed to wear?”
“Do you wanna get laid?” Lyla asks
“What—no”
“Im just kidding, wear that one black skirt I let you borrow and those low rise jeans”
“I never even wore it though-“
“Exactly why its perfect! Well come get you at 10, love you bye!” Layla says quickly before hanging up
You listen for Gigi, but all you hear is the faint sound of her arguing, presumably with Jay, before you hang up and set your phone on the counter.
You dont go to parties, ever. But here you are stepping out of your comfort zone, maybe its good that you’re. Maybe you need a change.
୨♡୧
“Oh hell no.” Gigi says once you all walk into the house, it's almost as big as hers, but you're not paying close attention to it because right now. instead you're watching Jake take down a shot in the kitchen.
It smells like cheap alcohol and sweat. The place is packed, you take your eyes off him and look around, you recognize faces you've seen around campus, and some you haven't
You watch as Gigi storms over to the kitchen to Jay “What the fuck are you doing here?” She asks Jay who looks at her like she has 2 heads “What am I doing here? Jungwon is my friend” He says back, you and Lyla walk over to the kitchen, following her.
You don't look at him. You can't look at him, but you can feel his eyes on you.
“I’ll tell mom and dad you ass-” Gigi starts
“Oh but that means they'll know you were here too” He says, faking a pout
“Shit” She replies, looking at you and Lyla
“Fine, truce.” She says, grabbing 3 red cups
You watch Jay hold out his hand, but she swats it away rolling her eyes before pouring whatever is in the bottles on the counter into the cups
“Drinks?” She says, handing you and Lyla the cups
“Please and Thank you, I need to find a hot guy to make out with” Lyla says taking the cup
“Im right here babe” Heeseung smirks, stepping closer to her
“Literally anyone but you” She says, walking away from the kitchen, you watch as he follows her
You hesitate a beat before taking the cup from her hand, Jake doesnt miss the way your eyes flick over to him for a split second
“Y/n can we-” He starts before a familiar obnoxious voice flows in the kitchen, Clara.
You watch as she walks in the kitchen, wearing practically nothing before she comes to his side, wrapping her arm around his.
“I think you have your hands full Jake.” You say before walking over to the living room with Gigi
“Get the fuck off me Clara” He says, moving his arm
Sunghoon and Jay both look at him with annoyed expressions on their faces
“Why Jakey? She said I can have you” Clara says, words slurred from the amount of alcohol she's consumed
“What?” He pushes her back, not to hurt, but enough for her to get off of him
He walks over to Gigi, glancing at Lyla and Heeseung who are practically eating each others faces on the other couch “Wheres y/n” He says, tone serious in a way that has Gigi sitting up
“Why-”
“Tell me where she is Gi, im not fucking around.” he says, watching Gigi point to the back porch
You turn around when you hear the door behind you open, leaning against the railing
“What are you-”
“Y/n- Fuck, please let me talk okay?” He says closing the door, the music and talking inside becoming a sound in the distance
“Jake, I can't right now” You say, looking down at your shoes as he walks over
“Please” His voice comes out slightly whiner than intended
“Baby, please look at me” He pleads, his composure gone. He’s done acting like he's okay with you avoiding him
You shake your head
He lets out a defeated sigh, you think he's going to walk away, give up.
You watch him lower himself to the ground getting on his knees just so you will look at him instead of the ground
“Y/n please listen to me” He looks up at you, his eyebrows furrowed together, his pupils are blown. He can’t believe hes actually fucking doing this.
When you don't say anything, the words spill out faster than he can catch up
“Im so sorry baby– Im an asshole and I hate myself for what I did, I should have just told you from the beginning about the bet-” he cringes at the word “-It was selfish of me and I understand why you don't even want to look at me, let alone talk to me.-“
“-But I like you, so fucking much, Ive never felt like this before, but you changed that for me. You’re smart, you’re fucking gorgeous, you’re too kind for your own good, and I want you so bad, I want you so fucking bad my chest hurts at the thought of not having you. Everything I said in the car that night was true. I like spending time with you and I don't want to be friends, because what I feel for you isn't friendship–” He stops, trying to catch his breath, looking up at you, searching your face for any reaction, any response
Your hand is shaking when it comes up to his face, slightly brushing his hair out of the way “I..” You close your eyes before opening them again, “I really like you too Jake. But you hurt me, I let you in and it feels like it was all just some trick.” You say, trying to hold the tears threatening to fall from your eyes
“No baby–It wasn't a trick, please, everything I said to you I meant it–” He leans forward resting his head on your stomach before looking back up at you
“Every touch, I meant it.” His hand comes up to hold your waist, before he stands up, looking down at you, placing his finger under your chin, before running his thumb along your bottom lip “Every word” His other hand pulls you closer to him “Every kiss.” He whispers, leaning down, lips grazing over yours “I meant it all.”
You're breathing against his mouth, hearts beating the same rapid pace “And I want it all–so bad, I want all of you y/n, I don't want you to hide from me, I don't want you to run” He says, cupping your face in his hands, closing his eyes and resting his forehead against yours
“Please-”
“I want it too Jake” You whisper
His eyes fly open, searching yours, before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, taking you slightly by shock with how desperate it is, his left hand slides from your face down to your waist, holding you close, like you would slip away if he let go.
He pulls back, just to see the look on your face, a single string of saliva keeping you two connected before he kisses your neck, whispering small “im sorrys” as he trails his lips along your jaw, making you let out breathy sounds that have him weak.
He captures your lips in a kiss again, tongue exploring your mouth in the way he’s been dreaming about ever since you started avoiding him.
He feels his cock hardening, he remembers the way he fucked his fist at the thought of having you like this again.
“Fuck–” He breathes out, before biting your lip lightly, making you let out a small whimper. “I.. I need you baby, please” He says, bringing his hand down to softly caress your ass in your jeans, you bring your hand up to pull him closer by the collar of his shirt to kiss him again before he pulls back “Not here.” He whispers, voice low, looking into your eyes with such intensity it has your knees weak.
With the way you're looking at him right now, he wants to do it now.
But he’s not having sex with you at some dumbass house party. He can't help the smirk on his face when you whine as he pulls away, grabbing your hand and leading you back inside, you don't look at anyone except him, as he guides you through the crowd, his hand clasping tight in yours, until you reach his car.
“What street do you live on?” He asks, looking at you, before pulling out onto the road, you hesitate, he notices “Y/n, no hiding” He says, putting his hand on your thigh. “167 EN drive” you reply back quietly, part of you hoping he wouldn't hear. But you remind yourself of the words he said earlier, he wants all of you, he said he craves it. So that’s what he'll get.
You watch his face as he pulls in your drive way, looking at your house. You don't see the look of hesitance, or disappointment you were expecting.
Your anxiety boils down when he steps out of the car, and comes to your side to open your door for you. “You’re not disappointed or anything?” You ask, voice slightly shaky
“Dissapointed?” He asks, genuinely confused
“I mean, my mom just doesn't make a lot– I know its not a good area to live in either-”
“Y/n, do you think I'd judge you for something as small as where you live?” He asks, shutting the passenger side door
“I just thought-”
“No. I’d be a fool to think like that. Nothing you do could make me judge you, the idea of doing that in the first place disgusts me.” He says, hand rising to brush his thumb on the side of your face, waiting for you to invite him in. He wants you to, he wants the reassurance that you trust him.
You walk to the front door, grabbing the key hidden under the mat before unlocking it, and stepping inside. You cringe at the slightly peeled paint on the walls, but also thankful that having the house to yourself means it's actually clean for once. He shuts the door behind him, watching the way you look around, the insecurity showing in your body language. He turns you around to face him, pulling you close before tilting your face up.
You look between his eyes and his lips before leaning up slightly, your lips grazing over his, before he speaks “tell me how bad you want this, tell me you want it as much as I do” He whispers, even though no one can hear him but you.
“I want it Jake– I want it so bad, I just want you..” you breathe out, and he closes the small space instantly, the feeling of your heart beating, the thrill of his lips on yours will never get old.
He lets you guide him to your room, before shutting the door behind him, he pulls back looking down at you. The needy look on your face as you try to catch your breath.
The room is dimly lit, the moon is bright from the clear sky, illuminating you, allowing him to see every emotion that flashes across your face.
He steps closer to you, hand coming to your waist, his thumb making small circles near the hem. You nod, and he slowly lifts your shirt above your head, eyes dropping to your chest, he can't help himself when his hand comes up to cup your tit in his hand, kneading the soft flesh through your bra. “Youre so beautiful” He says, guiding you until you land on your bed, He follows, on top of you in a second, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, it’s careful, timeless.
You kiss him back, lips desperately grasping onto each other as his hand trails down your stomach to the waistband of your jeans, your breath hitches, he pauses looking down at you “can I take these off?” He asks, “y-yes” you manage to let out, not sure how you can even get out words when he has you like this.
He unbottons your jeans, sitting up to slide them down your legs, throwing them on the floor before looking at you, taking you in, trying to savor this in his memory.
He watches the way your legs close, stopping them with his hand "Don't hide from me.” He says, pushing them open, looking down at the way your underwear sticks to your pussy, biting his lip at the sight, you let out a soft whine at being exposed like this, because no one has ever seen you this way, this vulnerable.
He presses a kiss to your neck, “Have you thought about this before?” He asks, tongue flicking on a new found sensitive spot under your ear, you nod. He lets his hand trail down your body before cupping your clothed cunt in his hand, you let out a quiet moan at the contact.
“Did you touch yourself thinking about it?” He kisses the spot under your ear, pulling the honesty out of you.
Your mind goes back to that night he kissed you in the car, how you made yourself come on your fingers at the memory of his hands on you later that night– “yes.” You say, the honesty makes him smile against your neck
“Can you show me?” He whispers, sitting up again, watching the way you willingly trail your hand down your body, slipping your fingers inside the waistband of your panties to brush your soaking clit, closing your eyes.
You open them again when the bed shifts, watching Jake as he takes off his shirt tossing it on the floor beside your pants, before removing his own, you press harder on your clit when your eyes meet the bulge in his boxers, there's no way that's fitting in you. He watches your reaction, "I'll make sure you're ready for it baby” He says, palming himself. You slide your underwear off your legs, the fabric was making it hard to really touch yourself anyway.
Your hand slides back between your legs, circling your clit, the same way he did that time in the bathroom. “Fuck–” He hisses, squeezing his dick at the way your hand comes up to toy with your nipple through your bra.
You watch as he climbs back in between your legs, leaning down to kiss your lips, trailing down past your neck, leaving a trail of wet marks until his face is hardly an inch away from your pussy.
You move your hand to grip the sheets beneath you “Jake..” You watch as he looks up at you from in between your legs. He blows on your clit, watching the way your pussy clenches around nothing. He presses small kisses to your thigh, grazing over your sensitive bud with his plump lips. “You have no idea how bad I've wanted to do this” He says before pressing an open mouthed kiss to your soaking cunt, you let out a moan at the contact, hands flying up to touch his hair as he repeats the motion.
You didn't even know you could be this vocal, but with him, eating you out like a starved man, how could you not.
He flicks his tongue over your clit, practically drooling onto your pussy, before pressing soft kisses “Tastes so fucking good” He mumbles into you, the vibration making your hips buck, his hand come up to hold your stomach down, so you dont squirm as much.
You watch him, his eyes are closed, face expressing true pleasure, your juices coating the bottom half of his face.
He looks up at you, burying his nose in your pussy, letting the bridge of it pressure your throbbing clit before he sucks on it, mouth clasped around your pussy, flicking his tounge, swirling it, you tug his hair harder, but he doesnt care because this is just too fucking good.
“Oh my gosh-” You let out when his finger comes up to collect your juices seeping from your hole before inserting the single digit inside of you, the sound of your pussy squelching, and him groaning into you has your back arches off the bed when he curls his finger, his tongue flicking over your clit, before he adds another, you've never felt this good in your life, you watch him, the way his brows furrow in concentration as he brings the most pleasurable experience upon you.
He fucks his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right, while his lips suck on your clit greedily, he looks up for a split second at the way your head is thrown back, before shoving his fingers deep, dick throbbing at the way you clench around them, taking your clit in is mouth, and sucking it, hard. You grip his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as you reach your orgasm, your whole body shaking “Jake!” You scream out through a moan as your juices coat his face, soaking the bed beneath you. He greedily licks, and slurps everything you let out, not letting anything go to waste, before looking up at you. He pulls his fingers out slowly, watching the way your body trembles.
You bite your lip as you watch him sit up again, your arousal coating his lips, he runs his tongue along them, savoring every drop.
He slides his boxers off, his dick hitting his abdomen, thick, heavy, and a bead of pearly white pre-cum at the tip, you watch as he spreads it on his tip, stroking himself in his hand. “You wanna know something?” He asks, watching the way your eyes flick between his face and his cock.
You nod quickly, making him smirk. “Ive dreamt about this moment almost every night. I remember waking up–” He looks down at your bare cunt, continuing “To see that I fucking came in my sleep.” You can't help the small gasp that leaves your mouth at the confession, "That's not all.” He says, pulling you closer, unclasping your bra and tossing it on the ground.
You bite your lip as the crisp air that hits your nipples, his finger comes up to toy with the sensitive bud, looking at your reaction, the little gasps that leave your lips “I fucked my fist so many times–everytime I imagined it was your pussy” He whispers, leaning down, letting his lips graze over your nipple, making you let out a desperate sound
“I thought about how you’d react when I did this–” He says before sucking on your nipple, his hand toying with the other one between his fingers making you moan, uncontrolled, you feel the way his cock rubs against your inner thigh.
He sits up, guiding his cock to your entrance, coating his tip with your juices from your previous orgasm. He slides the tip in slowly, letting your pussy adjust to the size, groaning, “Baby, I need you to relax okay? Can you do that for me?” He asks, finger rubbing circles on your inner thigh “mhm” you breathe out, before closing your eyes, trying to make yourself less tense as he slides more of his length in you
“Fuck- youre so warm” He says, hand moving to your hips to steady himself before bottoming out, a wrecked sound leaving his lips at the way your pussy clenches around him.
He leans down, head resing beside yours before lifting to look at you “Im going to move now, can you take it?” he asks, voice strained, but gentle “Please–” You let out through a whimper, he brings his lips to yours before pulling out halfway and thrusting back into you, making you moan into his mouth at the stretch. His cock reaching places you couldn't even imagine with your fingers, the feeling of being so full is almost euphoric.
“It's like this pussy was made for me baby–you feel so good” He whispers, sliding out of you again, and then back in, hips moving in an agonizing slow rhythm that has you holding onto his biceps and panting desperately in his mouth.
“F-faster?” you manage to let out, making him chuckle lightly “You sure?” he asks, looking down at you and the way you nod frantically. His lips suck at your neck as he picks up his speed thrusting in and out of you, hips rolling, enjoying every sound you let out.
Your nails dig into his arms, your pussy squeezing around him “You close baby?” he asks, the moan you let out is enough for him to understand, “I wanna come in you while you come on my cock, please?” the begging tone in his voice making you let out desperate pleas, his mouth is back on yours, both of you completely lost in the pleasure of each other, moaning against each other's mouths before he thrusts into you, hard, your pussy clenches around him, grinding up and down as you ride your orgasm out, at the same time milking his cock, making him whimper against you, saying your name though it all.
He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, before slowly inching his cock out, his cum spilling out of your pussy, you both wince at the sensitiveness, he pulls back looking down at you
“Where's your towels baby?” He asks, voice soft, you point towards the second drawer of your dresser, he grabs one coming back over to you, kneeling down to clean you up, you admire him, the focused look on his face, he looks up at you smiling “What?” He says through a chuckle
“You’re just really cute when you're focused” He climbs up till he's laid next to you, pulling himself closer to your warm embrace, resting his face on your chest, making you let out a giggle before he looks at you
“I want to be your boyfriend y/n” He says, emotion raw in his tone
“W-what?” You're caught off guard by the question
“Can I be your boyfriend?” He asks, voice low, almost shy
“Please?” he adds
You smile, biting your lip “yes, you can” You whisper, he tilts his head to kiss you again, embracing your warmth, you pull back
“You’re not going to get me flowers or anything?” You ask brow raising
“Oh, you just wait for tomorrow” He smiles against your lips
୨♡୧
Jake left your house that morning, kissing you goodbye, and saying to be ready by six at the latest, you were already dressed at 5.
The second you hear a knock at the door you rush to get it, swinging it open, heart beating fast when you see him, holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand, with a smile on his face
“Jake–They’re so pretty” You smile, taking them from his hand
“You’re prettier” He says, pressing a kiss to your lips before taking your hand and dragging you to his car.
He covers your eyes with his hands when he makes you get out of the car “Y/n you better not peak” he says, tickling your ear with his mouth, guiding you somewhere
“Shit- dont trip” He says, kicking a rock out of the way
You let out a laugh at how stressed he is right now
“Okay, three, two..” He removes his hand from your eyes, adjusting to the light you look around, at the open field, the sunset turning a pink/ orange hue in the distant, before your eyes fall to the setting before you, you cover your mouth with your hand, smiling against it as you look at the picnic before you
The Jake Sim set up a picnic for you at sunset. you can't help but giggle into your palm, turning to look at him
“Its perfect Jake” You say throwing your arms around his neck, pressing a light kiss to his lips
He smiles proudly, taking pride in the fact that he’s able to please you like this
He helps you sit down, before coming next to you, watching the way you glow from the golden light on you.
“You’re telling me Heeseung, Jay, and Sunghoon made these?” You say taking a bite of the small strawberry shortcake, the flavors melting in your mouth
“Yeah, they spent all day trying to figure out how, finding recipes and stuff” He says through a laugh
“Said it was their own way of apologizing” He lifts his finger to wipe frosting from your chin, bringing it up to lick it, smiling at you
“Tell them they're going to have to make me 10 more batches of this, because it might just be the best strawberry shortcake to date.” You say, completely serious
“They were considering opening a bakery” Jake says through a laugh, that has you join him
As the sun sets, you lean on his shoulder, you’re not thinking about the stressful things in your life like you normally do in quiet moments, right now it's you and him.
And you're at peace with that, because you feel like you've finally found your person.
“Thank you y/n” Jake says, turning his head to look at you
“For what?” you ask, voice barely a whisper
“Forgiving me, letting me in, it means a lot to me. And I'm really glad you did.” He says, moving a strand of hair behind your ear
“Thank you” You say so quietly, he almost wouldn't be able to hear it, he tilts his head in question
“For being there for me, and accepting me.” You say softly, he smiles before he cups the side of your face in his hand pulling you closer, and kissing you, gently..lovingly.
୨♡୧
And if I wrote reader giving him head for the first time and he actually goes insane
Summary — Your husband only has so much patience. This time, he won't be offering you much grace.
CW & Tags — 18+ MDNI, Smut, husband!Sunghoon x Wife!Reader, non-idol au, mean dom!sunghoon, sub!reader, degradation kink, grinding, thigh-riding, spanking with and without a belt, implied traditional marriage dynamic, kink(s) not communicated beforehand
WC — 3.1k
Disclaimer — I originally posted this to Ao3 some time ago. It’s still there but I orphaned the work because I want to keep the two accounts separate. This is the only Enhypen work I have ever posted on there and I will only ever post future Enhypen works on this account unless stated otherwise.
A/N — posting this hoping other people will start posting fics again cuz rn the vibes on enhablr are making me sad and I kinda just wanna be a gooner
"Still working?" You lean against the doorway of your husband's office.
You take in the sight of him, bathed in moonlight. He hadn't even bothered to change his clothes yet, but he was far from appearing as put-together as he had been when he left for work that very morning. The sleeves of his white collared button-up were rolled to reveal his forearms, his tie hung loosely around his neck, and his hair fell over his eyes, likely from running his hands through it all day.
You shouldn’t enjoy the sight of him so unkempt. You were the one who took the time to iron that shirt, after all. You're the one who had buttoned it up and smoothed the fabric down his toned chest, who had straightened his collar and carefully wrapped the tie around his neck as he chased your lips for loving kisses. Still, you can't find it within yourself to care, because the sight of him like this, in his most dishevelled, vulnerable state. It reminds you that you are the only one who gets to see your picture-perfect husband like this.
You had already been warm in the face when you had entered the doorway, but now, something more distracting arises within you— something ravenous. Your eyes wander from his eyes, to his lips, to his hands— god, his hands— back to his face, adoring how his glasses rest low on the bridge of his nose.
You only wish his eyes did not remain fixated on his paperwork when he finally responds.
"Can't sleep?"
"I..." you start, losing your train of thought.
You had awoken earlier in the night, a familiar warmth between your legs, but a cold empty spot right next to you at your king-sized bed— the place in which your husband was supposed to occupy. And when you had glanced down the hallway to see the light on in his office, you let out a sigh of frustration. Because as much as you admired his hardworking nature, you couldn't stand to sleep alone another night. Not when you needed him so badly. And so, you slipped into something lacy and enticing, your robe wrapped loosely at your waist, determined to get exactly what you want.
And yet, as you stand before him right now, you somehow feel... shy? That’s the kind of power he holds over you, you suppose. The kind where he doesn't even have to look at you to tear down the walls you hide behind. His presence alone is enough to disarm you.
"I had a dream," you finally say.
"A bad one?"
"A good one. Really good." Your fingers curl around the edge of the doorway where you brace yourself, a sense of pride growing within you as his lips form the faintest smile. You love that smile.
His half-lidded eyes meet yours, lingering a moment longer just to scan the length of your form. His gaze so intense, someone who didn't know him could mistake it for something analytical, rather than what you knew it was; primal.
It had been a week since he'd last touched you, and though you knew he was busy, you hoped you could get something out of him tonight. Anything. And for a moment, you think you might. He has desires too, after all. He stares until you shift beneath his gaze, and his index finger taps his pen once, twice, then... he sighs. He shakes his head.
"You can tell me about it later. Go back to bed."
"Not until you join me," you're quick to make your way to the desk, standing behind his chair, "What, you aren't curious?"
"Don't be stubborn."
"I'm being stubborn?" The statement almost makes you laugh. But, the rigidness in his demeanour tells you it isn't the time to humour him.
You place your hands on his shoulders instead, his muscles tense beneath your touch, but a warmth spreads through your chest seeing him lean into the touch. A sigh, barely audible, escapes him. You draw small circles with your thumbs into his skin, the knots in his back meeting you with resistance. His head leans back against the chair, his eyes fluttering shut. If there’s ever been a moment to break through to him, it’s now.
Carefully, your lips ghost the shell of his ear, "Come on, you deserve a break."
Today, however, it seems you’re out of luck. His eyes snap open, and he rolls his shoulders to nudge your hands away.
"If I take a break, then nothing gets done. And if nothing gets done, then there's even more to do. Not to mention the promotion—"
"The promotion that your boss keeps dangling over your head?"
You weren't going to say it. You probably wouldn't have, if you weren't so wound up. But you don’t care anymore. You move to stand between him and the desk, ignoring the way his brows furrow.
You continue, "It's nothing more than an empty promise. This company is using you for all you're willing to offer and intends to give you nothing in return. Can’t you see?”
Your husband only has so much patience when it comes to you. He is reaching his limit, you can tell by the way his jaw clenches. Still, he offers you grace. He really shouldn't.
"It’s more complicated than that. You don't know what you're saying," he lowers his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose, setting them down, "Just go to sleep—“
"I'm saying you're a pushover."
A silence falls between you. A darkness flashes behind those tired, tired, eyes of his. Selfishly, you enjoy the rush of excitement coursing through you as he stands to full height. And though it feels like you are caged in, he remains an arm's length away.
"Say it again."
"You heard me."
"Don't make me repeat myself."
You want to avert your gaze but you don’t. Whether it’s because you refuse to falter, or just to test his limits, you aren’t sure.
"I said you're a pushover. You let people push you around."
There’s a long pause, long enough to make you squirm. Then, he laughs under his breath, shaking his head. He begins to unfasten his watch from his wrist.
You don’t normally argue with him. But in the rare moments you have, not once have you heard him laugh.
"Sunghoon?"
"Bend over."
Oh.
"And if I say no?"
"You won't," his watch hits the wooden surface with a soft thud, followed by his wedding ring. "Not if you want me to touch you. And I know you want me to."
Like a bitch in heat, you do as you're told, your hands flat against the desk, sighing when you feel his presence behind you. His hand slides from the curve of your waist, down to the curve of your ass, drawing circles into your skin with his thumb. Grasping your hips, he leans down, his lips at your ear, and the most pathetic sound escapes you when you feel his half-hard cock pressed against your cunt. Even through layers of clothing, anything is enough to evoke a reaction when you've been this neglected. But he doesn't let you grind your ass into him. His grasp is stern, unforgiving.
"Such a pretty set," he whispers too sweetly, pushing your silk robe up, letting his hand trace the white lace between your legs. He's touching you everywhere except where you need it most. "Tell me, who did you wear it for?"
"You."
"That's right."
His hands leave you, and before you can wonder why, a sharp pain spreads across your ass cheek. Swift, precise, and intentionally hard.
Smack.
A cry rips from your throat, strangled, shocked. It wasn't just a slap. It wasn't just pleasure masquerading as something cruel. It was real punishment. And though the pain spreads across the surface of your skin, an awful, lingering sting, the desire between your legs only grows.
"And who bought it for you?"
You hesitate this time.
"You—“
Smack.
"And what did you call me earlier?"
You breathe in, your eyes squeezed shut.
"A pushover."
Smack. Smack. Smack.
Each hit is harder than the one prior, and you would’ve nearly collapsed if it weren't for your hands bracing yourself. You flinch when he strokes you softly this time, soothing the skin he had just disrupted as you tremble, tears threatening your eyes. It hurts. But it hurts so good.
"Shh, it's okay," he whispers into your ear. His free hand moves to tilt your face, pulling you in for a kiss. Just the taste of him is enough to remind you of how starved you are. You kiss him as if to plead for mercy with your lips, but the feeling of his sinful grin against your mouth makes you believe there is none for him to give.
"Sunghoon," you nearly whimper at the loss of his lips, "Touch me?”
"I will," his hand strokes your cheekbone, grazes your chin, then leaves all too soon. “After you apologize."
You freeze, your expression dropping. It would be so easy to lie. Your mouth hangs open, a simple "sorry" lingering on the tip of your tongue. And yet, the words refuse to escape you. You aren't sorry for telling the truth; that your husband works like a loyal mutt for a boss who is more than willing to kick him to the curb the moment he decides he doesn't need him.
You shake your head, barely able to meet his gaze because never in your time together had you seen him with a look like that in his eyes.
"I can't."
He forces you back down to the desk, and though you don’t offer any resistance, you squirm weakly in anticipation of another spank. Instead, you hear the sound of his belt unbuckling. Your eyes go wide when you feel the cold leather resting against your ass.
“Maybe you were right. I let you push me around. But I think I’ve been generous enough.”
"Wait, I…” You're breathing erratically, barely able to string together a coherent thought.
"You want me to stop?"
You close your eyes. The heat between your legs, and the dampness which has soaked through your underwear tells you what you already know. Some sick and twisted part of you enjoys this. Your silence followed by the shake of your head confirms it.
"Deep down, you know you deserve this, don't you? Or maybe you just want to keep getting off on it. Needy bitch."
Smack. This time, you scream, tears falling from your eyes, onto the papers beneath you. It burns. The pain is searing, and yet, you love every second of it. You love the way he holds you down as you writhe, you love how your heart races with fear— with pleasure.
Over your shoulder, you catch sight of him and your heart nearly skips a beat. Because right there was the sight of your proper, polite husband with his belt in his hand, and a fire reignited his eyes. You decide there is no one else in the world who looks so beautiful while losing all their inhibitions.
The hand at your back finds your ring finger, circling the wedding band, thumbing the delicate stone at the centre.
"Tell me who bought you this ring?"
"It was you."
Smack.
"Who bought you this nice house, in a nice neighbourhood, and everything else you've ever wanted?"
"You."
Smack.
For a moment you hear him sigh, a finger trailing up and down the dampness of your underwear. You’re throbbing with need, clenching around nothing.
Lowly, he asks, "Tell me who makes you this wet?"
"You do."
"That's right. Me." His finger ghosts the lace hem, briefly slipping beneath the fabric. The tip of his finger meets the outside of your wet cunt, and for a moment you think just maybe this one time he might give in.… but he is as stubborn as you are, with a lot more self-control.
Again, you mourn the loss of his touch.
"It's all because of me. So why are you so fucking ungrateful?"
You feel the cool leather hit you once. Twice. Thrice, until you lose count. By the time you hear the belt fall to the floor, you're a weeping, shaking mess. All because of him.
"Get up.”
When you turn around, his lips crash into yours, slow and deliberate. Calculated and precise. Just enough to reel you in, never enough to give you what you clearly want. But you? You're desperately grasping at him, silently begging for his touch. You can both taste your tears between your kisses, and he pulls away to wipe them from your eyes.
You wonder if he feels pity. The coldness behind his gaze as his thumb pads your lower lip tells you otherwise.
"I’m done with you, now. Go back to bed and think about what you did.”
"What?"
He reaches for his reading glasses, seating himself back down on the chair, while you stand at his side, hot and bothered. Your stomach drops. This was the real punishment, wasn’t it? Not the spanking, not hitting you with a belt until your skin felt raw. It was winding you up, just to leave you high and dry. To dismiss you like you’re nothing. He hadn’t promised you anything, but he had never left you unfinished before. The smile on his face makes you want to scream.
"I can't just... please, Sunghoon, I need you to touch me. I know you want it, too," you let your hand drift up his thigh, approaching his visible erection in his pants, but he stops you by the wrist. Gently, he leads you into his lap, tucking your head beneath his chin and you swear it's like heaven. You breathe in his scent like oxygen, and you sink into the warmth of his body like it's the only thing keeping you alive.
"You can stay." His tone is stern, followed by the sound of his pen hitting the page. "But I'm not touching you."
His writing turns into white noise, your thoughts become foggier, dirtier. A week's worth of neglect, sexual frustration, and rejection floats through your mind, and you're so needy you could cry. Your ass still stings, but nothing hurts more than the aching desire between your legs. You shift in his lap unintentionally, your cunt pressed right against his thigh, enough to make your head spin. And though it’s pathetic, you do it again, and again… partially for relief, but mostly in the hopes that he’ll take pity on you.
Your underwear is damp now, threatening to stain his nice pants, but he doesn't seem to try to stop you as your pace picks up little by little. You roll your hips once more and sigh, thankful for some kind of friction at last. But still, he continues to work, pretending like you don't exist, like you can’t see how ridiculously hard he is for you right now
"Don't you want to touch me?" Your voice is hoarse, weak, "Don't you want me to touch you?"
One last time, you trail your hand from his shoulder down his chest, to the waistband of his pants. He slaps your hand away.
"This is all you're going to get," he says, his voice dropping. Setting his pen down, he leans back in his chair, pushing your head from his chest to take the sight of you in, fully. And god, what a sight it was to see you grinding against his thigh like some kind of horny teenager, desperately seeking friction. Seeking release. Seeking anything at all.
"You don't get to have anything else. Clearly, I’ve spoiled you for too long."
"I need more.”
You whine, and he laughs at you. Never in your time together had he ever denied you like this. Never had he been so mean.
"You want more. There’s a difference.”
Your breath hitches when you feel his hands at your thighs, lightly skimming the surface of your skin. It’s not enough to satisfy you, only enough to remind you of what you’re missing.
"Tell me about that dream of yours," One hand moves to graze your jawline, lifting at your chin. His thumb grazes your lower lip. "The one that made you decide to rudely interrupt me."
"It was about you."
"And what was I doing in your dream?" He grins.
"Doing me. Bent over your desk."
"In here?"
"No. At your work office." Shit. You let out a whimper, your hips staggering slightly. "I thought of showing up. Having you fill me up while your coworkers don't know. I miss you, baby, it gets so lonely at home without you."
"Fuck." He breathes, watching your lips part ever so slightly, pretty noises falling from you. "Fuck, you're so greedy.”
"Just want you inside me.”
“Yeah? Well, you can blame yourself, because you’re not getting that,” His hand reaches for your throat, not applying any real pressure, but just to grasp you, “Such a dirty mouth. Maybe next time I should fuck your throat instead. But you would like being used like that, wouldn’t you?”
He moves your hips to seat you on his clothed cock as he thrusts up into your hip movements, unable to suppress his smile as you gasp, seeing you close to finishing like this. No real contact, not even fondling under the clothes. Just pure need and desire for him. Even without fucking you, he has you calling out his name like a prayer, over and over again.
"You gonna finish like this? With me barely touching you?" He scoffs, "Take it. Take what I give to you and be grateful for it."
And god knows you are. Feeling his hardness beneath you, it only takes a few more movements for something inside you to snap, riding out your high. He presses his mouth to yours, swallowing your cries, devilishly grinning all the way through it.
Because finally, after you only barely got what you wanted, you still kiss him as if he had just given you god's greatest gift.
Because as powerless as his shitty job made him feel, at least he knew you would always be there, waiting for him at home— Next time, he hopes, with a little more appreciation.
Summary — If you weren’t a drunken mistake, then what exactly are you?
CW & Tags — 18+ MDNI, smut, angsty (sorry guys), college au, cheater!Hoon x sidechick!reader, sub!reader, mean dom!Sunghoon, p in v, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, doggy style, degradation, praise, taking photos during sex, thigh-high stockings on during sex, infidelity (emotional and physical), morally corrupt characters, misogynistic themes & language, mild jealousy/possessiveness (present but as plot relevant as last time), emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, cuddling, more pathetic loser behaviour on hoon’s behalf tbh he’s just a big baby, reader tries (and fails) to be a good person, Hyung line as roomates appear once again, men being emotionally unintelligent
Words — 5.4k
A/N — Thanks for all the support on the first fic! It took many first drafts and many scrapped scenes to become the piece that it is today, so it felt really good to have all that effort pay off! Writing a continuation came very naturally to me, as there were still some ideas I wanted to expand on, so I’m glad to now have an audience to deliver that to. Hope you guys like ♡
From Jake: hey can u answer sunghoon
From Jake: lowkey worried abt him tbh
From Jake: think he might be depressed?
You were never very good at standing your ground.
You'd known it about yourself since the first day of kindergarten, when the girl next to you had asked to "borrow" your favourite glitter pen. It was never returned, and of course, you never dared to ask for it back. You'd known it since high school, when those "friends" your parents didn't like pressured you to take a hit of the blunt they'd rolled in the bathroom. The smell then lingered on your school uniform, nearly earning you a disciplinary suspension.
Hell, you knew it even in your first year of university, when Jake Sim did nothing for that damn group project.
"I'll do anything. Literally anything. Please, I know I fucked up," he had pleaded with you outside your dorm door, looking nearly ready to drop to his knees and kiss your feet.
"It's a little too late for this," you had tried.
You weren't a kid anymore, and this was a grown man who had made his own set of stupid, irresponsible choices. You didn't owe him anything. You didn't even owe him a conversation. But you didn’t close the door on him. You couldn’t bring yourself to.
"If you had come to me earlier, maybe, but..."
"Look, I know I put a lot of shit on you, and I'm asking you for a whole lot that I don't deserve, but put yourself in my shoes. Come on. You can't do this to me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
You can't do this to me.
The words lodged somewhere deep. It didn’t matter whether his pain was yours to carry. Once it was placed in your hands, you held it, felt it, and couldn’t seem to let go.
With his name on the final document, you took his daddy's credit card in exchange, paying for all the sweet treats and lattes you didn't need for the following few months. It should’ve felt good, right? To be rightfully compensated for all those sleepless nights spent hunched over a textbook, alone? And yet, satisfaction never settled in your stomach, only shame, and the feeling of being pathetically pushed around.
It makes you wonder why, exactly, you ever thought you could stand your ground with Sunghoon. Alone. Sitting on his living room couch, with him looking like this.
Even with his hair a shaggy mess and wire-framed glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, he is easily the most gorgeous person you'd ever laid your eyes on— and that alone might’ve been enough to have you bending to his will.
You promised yourself that if you were to see him again, you wouldn’t let your heart flutter. You promised you would keep your distance, like you should’ve in the first place, instead of selfishly crossing the line. But then he’s looking to you, like a wounded puppy. With tired, glossy eyes, he watches, waiting on every word you have yet to speak with bated breath. You’re kidding yourself if you think you have the willpower to resist it.
It had been a week since that night happened. You hadn’t had the guts to show up to any of your classes all week, nor had you worked up the courage to respond to Sunghoon's "we should talk" text. Like a coward, you wanted to run from it all, pretend like it never happened, like you hadn't let yourself ruin someone else's two-year relationship just to get fucked, drunk on a bathroom sink.
You didn't want to hear the dreaded, inevitable 'it was a mistake' because you already knew it was never supposed to happen. Truth be told, you really did fall for Sunghoon, not just for his ridiculously good looks, but for him. Every stupid joke and every cheeky smile you shared, like notes passed in secrecy, added fuel to the fire that refused to go out in your heart.
You already knew there were only two ways that this conversation could end: with him drawing the line, or him crossing it again. It would be breaking your heart either way.
And yet, here you find yourself, helpless under his pitiful gaze. Your heart lurches at the sight.
"Are you okay?" is somehow the only thing you can manage after sitting in a long, uncomfortable silence. Though you’re not sure what else you even would say.
The way he perks his head up tells you that he wasn't expecting that question. You’re guessing, from that, and from Jake’s earlier texts, that his roommates were providing no emotional support— not that it took a rocket scientist to figure that out.
“No,” he shakes his head, “Not at all. I feel like shit.”
Deep down, you know you shouldn't feel bad for him. His pain and internal conflict are self-inflicted. His choices and the consequences of them are a mess he has to deal with on his own accord. Still, you can't help but feel that if only you had pushed him away, if only you hadn’t spread your legs so easily, maybe you could've saved him from this.
"I'm better now that you're here, though," he smiles. Your heart skips a beat, though it shouldn’t, and you smile back. "I mean, Jake's making me do his chores for the rest of the month 'cause I got my jizz all over his suit, but... think it was worth it."
It was worth it? Your heart thumps louder in your ears, and your fingers curl tighter into the fabric of your skirt. You try not to dwell on the comment, hiding your pensive expression with a nervous laugh.
"I don't think I can ever look him in the eye again," you cringe at the recollection of having to face Jake and the others after the whole ordeal, "Or any of your roommates, honestly."
"Good. Then don't."
You scoff at his unrelenting possessiveness, even now. You hate that you like it. You hate that the spark you'd once shared with him was brighter, hotter, more inextinguishable than ever. The two of you share a look, another smile, the simple innocence of it somehow still exciting to you, despite everything.
"I should make you do my chores, too. You kinda ruined my favourite top, you know," you tease him in return, against your better judgement.
"Did I?" He laughs, lowering his voice. His eyes drag down the length of you, "Not sure about any chores, but I could do something else for you."
And with that, you take in a shaky breath. You had promised yourself, regardless of how this talk would go, that you'd stick to your morals. It should be easier now that you're sober. And yet, you're already toeing the line.
"Sorry. Just..." he trails off, "Impulse."
Yeah, impulse, you think, looking him up and down the same.
Now you remember why you never wanted to come back here in the first place. If Sunghoon was hard to resist before you'd even slept together, you couldn't even begin to describe the kind of magnetic pull you felt towards him now. Seeing him again, talking to him again like this, only ignited a feeling inside you that you so desperately wished you could repress.
You glance down at his lips only briefly, trying to erase the memory of them against your own, how they felt against your skin, and between your—
"Did I ruin things between us?" He blurts out. You look to him, how he shifts nervously, something untameable about the look in his eyes, "Because I really don't want to lose you."
"Listen, Sunghoon, that night..."
...was a terrible, drunken mistake that should've never happened, and we should both try to move on, you want to say. Because that’s the right thing to say, rather than to let this conversation go exactly where you think it's going.
But then his hand is on your thigh. And you stare for a few moments until he's sliding his hand up and down, soothingly. The only thing you can think of is how he touched you before, and how much you want him to keep touching you now.
"I can't forget it. I tried, but I can't," he says, pained. He's shaking his head, taking in a shaky breath, "I can't sleep, can't even think straight. I know it's not right."
"It's not."
"But it feels so right," He slips his hand up your skirt, "You feel right."
Over your panties, he feels you, and you let him, opening your legs instinctively. He feels the soaked material, and you let out the smallest sound when he brushes over your clothed clit.
Though he moves his hand back down too quickly, returning to your knee, and something in you breaks when you see his face. Tired, wrecked, defeated, flooded with self-loathing. Just like you.
"I’m sorry. I don't know what I'm doing. I'm such a shitty person."
Again, your heart aches.
"No," you start, shaking your head profusely. "Don't say that. You just made a mistake. Nobody's perfect, Hoon."
You place your hand atop his, with the intention of comforting him. It only makes the need between your legs grow. He meets your gaze, eyes dropping to your neck. There, just shy of your jawline, was a particularly stubborn mark he’d left on you. It had faded slightly, but remained. With his other hand, he reaches for it, pressing his thumb atop the skin he’d claimed.
"You're not a mistake," he utters, "That's the problem."
His hand slides back up your skirt and this time, past the barrier of soaked fabric, rubbing slow circles against your cunt. A whimper escapes you, and he groans.
"Do you know what you do to me?" He asks, and you shake your head. Gently, he's guiding your hand, lower until it presses against his cock in his sweatpants, fully hard. Your eyes go wide at the memory of how it felt inside you. "That's all you."
He leans forward, enough for his nose to bump with yours, and he slips a finger inside you. And before you can let out a moan, you’re grabbing him by his shirt, pressing his lips against yours, concealing the desperate cry that threatens to escape you.
It’s as if you’d waited a lifetime, with how you kiss him, hot and heavy against his mouth. There’s no rhyme or rhythm to how you go about it, with your teeth clashing clumsily and needy gasps escaping you as they please. Through his pants, you palm him, adoring the way he groans into your mouth, hips thrusting into your hand.
"We shouldn't. Not while you’re still with her,” you manage to protest, as if you aren’t rubbing him through his pants, like his fingers aren’t inside you, like you aren’t doing exactly what you swore you wouldn’t do.
"Just this time," he says against your lips, "I'll make things right, after. I promise. Just need you right now."
From Hoon: u up?
From Hoon: need you rn
From Hoon: come over
It was never supposed to be like this, you think, marching step by step up to his floor. The elevator in his place is always broken, and sometimes, you wonder if that's just the universe trying to get you to stop. Though no matter how many times you swore you wouldn't come back, you always seem to find yourself at his door. Today, however, you swore it would be different. It had to be.
"I'm gonna do it," you recalled yourself saying a few days ago. You and Jake had been sitting in the campus cafe during your break, your hands curled around the chai latte he'd bought for you. Jake barely even looked up from his laptop screen, only to roll his eyes. "You don't believe me?"
"You say this every time."
"Well, I mean it this time," you asserted, "I'm gonna tell him that if he doesn't break up with her, then I won't see him ever again."
"You realize how stupid you sound, right? He's a cheater. What makes you think he won't do the same to you?"
"What we have is complicated."
"Oh, please. Everyone thinks their own situation is unique or special or 'complicated'. But it's all the same." Jake sighed, and you looked down at your cup. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. Just saying it like it is. Besides, you know you deserve better, right?”
You shove the memory away and raise your fist to the door with a newfound confidence, knocking on the wood. And you cringe when you hear a pair of upset groans behind the door. A few foot stomps later, the door is swinging open.
"Well, look who it is," Heeseung deadpans, looking you up and down, "Please tell me you'll at least do it in the bedroom tonight?"
"As if that's any better," Jay calls from somewhere down the hall, "Can still hear literally everything. You guys are fucking freaks."
"Well, hello to you, too," you scoff, eyes immediately darting to the ground as you sheepishly step inside. You slip off your shoes, and Heeseung leans against the wall beside you.
"Hey, you know we’re just joking around,” he grins, “If it makes you feel any better, it's not entirely your fault. The walls are so thin, we can hear Jake whimpering when he jerks off.”
And, faintly, you hear the sound of Jake hitting the wall, followed by a muffled "shut the fuck up hee-shit".
You crack a smile, and the two of you laugh, ignorant of the displeased Sunghoon who now observes your conversation. You want to roll your eyes when you see the look on his face, but you don't.
"Thought I told you not to bother her," he grumbles. And without a second to spare, Heeseung is out of there muttering something about "not trying to mess with his territory" as Sunghoon takes your hand. You don't let your frown show until his back is turned to you.
It was hard to explain, but these days you couldn't really recognize him. Maybe you'd fucked him too many times that you'd started to forget the kind of person he is outside of the bedroom, but you missed the kind of person he was when you'd first fallen for him. You missed his shy smiles, his stupid jokes, and the gentleness with which he spoke. You miss how considerate he used to be, always asking how you are, always listening.
Now, when you see him, all you know is the version of him that is rough and unforgiving. He leaves so many marks on your neck, though you've timidly expressed how hard they are to cover. He fucks your throat raw so much that you've forgotten what your voice sounds like when it isn't sore. Not to mention, how he's ruined your favourite clothes with his cum, and how embarrassing it is for you to have to leave his place looking like a fucked out mess.
Still, you let him. You let him because maybe some part of you thinks that if you're going to be the kind of bitch who sleeps with someone else's boyfriend, then you deserve to be treated like one.
It isn't always like that, though. Sometimes, you’re lucky. Sometimes, there are nights like tonight, where he greets you at the door and doesn't immediately flip up your skirt. Nights where he looks at you with those big brown eyes of his, leading you to his bed just to engulf you in the warmth of his arms.
Whatever courage and determination you thought you'd walked in with was left by the door, long forgotten as he buries his face into your chest, sighing like a big baby when you run your hands through the soft strands of dark hair atop his head. Nights like these are ones where you remember why you'd fallen for him in the first place. In these moments, nothing else matters.
"Mm, you feel so good," he mutters against your skin, still wrapped around you like a vice, the weight of him keeping you still in place. You can feel him hard as ever through his sweatpants, pressed right against your leg, and you, too, start to feel that familiar throb between your thighs. But he just holds you, chasing nothing more. "Missed you so much. You have no idea."
He breathes you in, deeply, like a breath of fresh air, and exhales loudly. And you breathe him in too, the smell of him clean and freshly washed, like he'd showered only a few hours earlier, mixed with the scent of his cologne.
Your eyes glance around the room, first to the textbook and laptop at the end of the twin bed, then to everything else. He keeps it tidy, minimalist. He barely even has any decor, save for the few photos of family and friends pinned next to the calendar above his desk. But what always catches your eye, without fail, is the photo of her, and the way it watches over you, staring. Initially, her static gaze filled you with shame. Nowadays, it fills you with something much more disquieting. Even as you lie there, his body lounging over yours, you can’t help but wonder if it will ever be your face sitting there, above his desk instead.
Your attention is pulled away when you feel his fingers fiddle with the top of your thigh-high socks, pulling the fabric back, then letting it snap back to your skin. Then, they move to the hem of your skirt, a pleased hum escaping him.
"Did you get all pretty just for me?" You feel him slip beneath it, reaching until his fingers graze your panties. A soft cotton with a lace trim. His thumb swipes the little bow at the top of the waistband, and you feel him smile against your chest. "Fuck, you're so cute."
He doesn't slip inside them just yet, though. As you predicted, he moves his hand to rest against the swell of your hips instead, absentmindedly playing with the fabric. He's in a different kind of mood tonight.
"You're too quiet tonight, baby. Won't you talk to me?"
"What do you want me to say?"
"Anything," he says, "Just wanna hear your pretty voice. You know how much I love hearing it."
For a moment, you think to bring up what's been on your mind. To stand firmly where you said you would. But the feeling of being in his arms just feels too nice, too easy. You'd rather lie there and accept the warmth of his embrace than even try to push yourself out of it.
"Went to the library. Tried to get some work done, but you know me, I can't focus for too long," you start, and he hums in agreement, having seen your work ethic for himself many a time. Your train of thought comes to a halt when you feel him start to pepper kisses against your chest, atop the marks he'd left last time.
"And...?"
"And I was gonna get lunch with my friend, but she cancelled on me, so I ate alone," you sigh.
"What a bitch."
"She's not," you pretend to slap him, instead letting your hand lightly tap his cheek a few times. He leans into it, pretending to scrunch his face in pain, an amused smile playing at his lips. Your heart flutters, and you continue, "Then I had that math elective I'm taking— you know, that stupid two and a half hour lecture, I told you about?"
He pauses.
"The one you take with Jake, right?"
"Yeah."
You feel his grip tighten around you, and he huffs, grumpily, face falling forward into your chest as you laugh. Your nails drag down his back, lightly grazing him over his black t-shirt.
"Hoon, you know he's just my friend. Don’t be silly.”
"I also know that he has a big fat crush on you.”
"And?" You raise your brow at his ridiculousness. Because even if things with Jake were anything more, it shouldn't matter to him for obvious reasons.
"And I don't like that."
You frown at his tone because you can tell he isn't joking anymore. His eyes are darker, his pretty lips pulled into a familiar, possessive frown.
Suddenly, you're reminded why you came here in the first place. Because you're tired of being treated like this. Like you're his, but not. Like you matter, even though it's her, who he's taking out on real dates. When it's her, he takes her home to his parents. You're sick of seeing her smile on your Instagram feed, knowing that she has no idea. Knowing that she gets the other half of him that you don't. You hate that you exist to him only on the sidelines.
"Well, I don't like a lot of things either," you mumble under your breath.
Suddenly, the energy shifts, and so does he. He pushes himself up so that he’s leaning above you, his eyes holding none of the tenderness they had moments earlier.
"Can we not?"
"What happened to breaking up with her?" You push, hand clenching at your side to hide how it trembles.
"I said I will. So drop it."
"And you keep saying that, but—"
"Stop being so fucking impatient." He seethes, and for a moment his eyes shut, taking in a breath, "Seriously, I've had a shitty fucking week, and I don't feel like doing this."
He’s gripping your hips, and you feel his hard cock grinding against your centre. And at the feeling of you tensing up in his grasp, he kisses you before you can protest. His tongue swipes your lower lip, begging for entrance, and you oblige.
"Was gonna wait a bit, but now you've pissed me off," his voice is rough, "You'll make me feel better, won't you? Help make it go away?"
His mouth doesn't leave yours as his hands spread your legs apart, allowing him to grind right against your centre, but you shake your head. Defiantly, with a muffled no to his lips, your hands curl into fists at his chest, hitting him uselessly until he pulls away. You can't read the look in his eyes. Annoyance, hurt, and concern, all packaged together, have rendered him speechless.
"I can't keep doing this. Not while you're with her," you finally say, though your voice is shaky, unlike how you'd rehearsed it in your head. "It's killing me, Hoon. It's..."
Wrong? Immoral? Downright cruel? That's what your reasoning should be. The truth is far more selfish than that.
"It's killing you, huh?"
He looks at you, then between your legs, which are still spread so prettily for him, revealing what your body really wants— What you really want. But refuse to admit. You close your legs, pulling your knees to your chest as you sit up, like a barrier between yourself and him. He sits back on his knees.
"You promised it wouldn't be like this." You hate how pathetic you sound, but you continue anyway, because if not now, you weren’t sure you’d ever find it within you to confront him again. Your voice goes quieter, weaker, "...I miss when you used to be nice to me."
"Used to?" He sounds offended, but not angry. His tone is soft, albeit with his hardened expression. And when he lurches forward, you close your mouth, expecting him to try to kiss you again. Instead, you feel a kiss on your forehead. A warmth blooms in your chest, "You think I'm not nice, baby?"
Timidly, you nod. He watches, this time expressionless, and you almost think you would prefer to see him frown. Carefully, his hand slides down to your knees, pressing them down until they lie flat. And with another quick, gentle kiss to your lips this time, he lays his hand against your lower tummy.
"I make you feel nice and full when we fuck, don't I?" He's smiling, but not too wide. It’s playful, and you find yourself smiling back, "I make your legs shake, until you're crying for more. Is that not nice enough for you?"
"You know what I mean, Hoonie,” you try gently.
His fingers are slipping beneath your panties, past the drenched fabric. He soaks his fingers in your mess and laughs, rubbing slow circles against your clit. And you bite your tongue, desperately trying to whine.
"Tell me, if it’s killing you, why does it feel so good, baby?" He coos, "And I know it does, because you keep coming back. So why?"
He slips a finger inside your tight, wet heat, and he curses. You arch into his grasp, your body betraying you.
"Tell me how good it feels. Use your pretty voice, come on," he beckons you.
But, with your heart racing, you shake your head defiantly. He adds another finger, reaching all the places you can never reach with your own hand. He's fucked you so many times now that he knows exactly how to toy with you. It’s intentionally cruel.
"Don't lie to me. You can lie to everyone else, but I know you."
His fingers pound into you all of a sudden, and you're gasping out, desperately trying to fight your own desires, but it's no use. You're nearing your tipping point, hands clawing into his sheets. But just like that, he rips it away from you, a pathetic whimper escaping you as his fingers leave your needy cunt.
"Open," He places his fingers at your lips, and you open, allowing his fingers to slip past. He curses as he watches you suck them, taking them back in your throat, licking him clean. "You taste that? That's how much you want me. Now get up."
On shaky legs, you stand, facing him. And he leans back on his arms, sitting at the edge of the bed. Your eyes drop to his grey sweatpants, eyeing the imprint of his cock through them, and you sigh, because you know exactly how the rest of this will go. You just can’t resist him.
"Strip. But leave the cute shit on," he gestures to your socks.
You do as you're told, your little skirt sliding down your legs, followed by your top, then your bra, but he gestures to you to leave the panties on too. And his eyes gaze down at your body, lingering on all the partially-faded marks he'd left on you over the past few weeks. Hickeys, all over your chest and thighs. Bruises on your hips from where he grips you.
You start to approach him, but he stops you.
"No. Crawl."
Your face burns, and you get on your hands and knees, slowly crawling towards him, until he has your chin in his hand, looking down at you.
"Good girl. Now you know what to do, right?" His praise runs straight down your spine.
You pull down his sweatpants, his cock springing free, and you kiss him like you always do. But a hand flies to your hair, pulling your mouth away before you can even begin.
"Come on. Beg for my cock. Know you want it, so beg for it."
"Please..." you start, and from the look on his face, you know that's not enough, "please, give me your cock. Need it so bad."
"Yeah, you do. Ungrateful slut," he lets go of your hair. "Go on. Make it up to me, maybe I'll let you cum. And don't you dare touch yourself."
You suck him off. And somehow, you feel so much more exposed like this, without him taking the reins and fucking your face. He just sits back and watches, laughing as you try to take him all the way back, grinning at how you squirm in need to be touched, soaking in the sloppy, desperate sounds that fill the room. And though you've gotten on your knees enough times for him already, you'd never felt like as much of a whore until now, as you do every bit of the work yourself.
You freeze when you hear the sound of his phone camera shudder, looking up to see it held right above your face. You don’t move, his cock still lodged at the back of your throat.
"Sorry, baby, but you just look so slutty like this," he says, "you don't mind, right? You know I don't share."
You can't give a proper answer because he's pushing your head down to deepthroat him, and he groans, looking absolutely pleased with himself. And yet, pathetically, the thought of it makes you throb between your legs, a whine escaping you. Because at least it means he’ll be thinking of you when you’re not around… right?
With that, he's pulling your mouth away from him. And standing up, he shoves your face down into the bed, ass up, back arched, and his hand slides over your soaked panties, sighing as he watches you tremble. And sliding them down your legs, he leans over you, his chest against your back, arms wandering from your tits, your waist, then to your pussy. You shiver when he presses a delicate kiss to your neck.
“You know how much I like you, right?”
You feel the head of his cock at your weeping entrance, teasing you up and down. Then, he enters you, a gasp escaping you. And as he does, something in you snaps.
"It hurts, Hoon.” You can feel your eyes start to tear up, choking back a sob. And you know you’re not referring to the size of him, though he entered you with no real prep.
"You want me to stop?" He asks lazily, because he knows your answer already. You shake your head and feel his chest pull away, his hand instead pressing your back. You feel him sink further, his thick length filling you. “Then don’t whine about it. Just take it.”
"Can't keep doing this," you whisper, "Can't…"
"You can," he sighs when he's all the way in, wasting no time in thrusting right back into you, "you always do. Look at you, taking me so well. You love this."
He’s pounding into you, unrelenting, and you feel your tears and drool soak the sheets below you. You grip the sheets, crying out because he’s fucking you right, making you see stars, and yet this still isn’t enough.
He groans, reaching down and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you close. And the closeness alone is enough to make you clench around him, nearing your high.
"I’ve got you. Just let go, baby," he whispers, "Let it happen."
And you do. Like you always do.
You finish on his cock, crying out his name, and he buries himself deep, fucking his cum into you, watching it wrap around the base of him in a creamy, sticky ring.
“So fucking good,” he sighs, landing a light slap against your ass and spreading you open to watch as he pulls out, watching his cum drip out of you. “So perfect.”
Again, you hear his phone camera snap a picture, and your face burns at the thought.
"Come here,” he suddenly whispers, flipping you around and wrapping your trembling form in his arms. He notices your tear-stained eyes and the smudged mascara under your eyes, bringing his hand to wipe away a stray tear. “I’m sorry, baby. I’ll make things right. I’ll tell her soon. You know I just don’t wanna hurt her.”
What about me? You want to say, but you never do.
You lie there in his warmth, still tangled up in him and his sheets, a few hours later. Except now, he snores softly above you, looking peaceful. Unbothered. You watch his chest rise and fall, and as you remain trapped in the cage that is his massive arms, you wonder which one you're supposed to be: the whore, or the one he holds when he falls asleep?
