disclaimers: written in first person, not proofread, draft, js mention of assassination ig? lmk if there’s smthn
background: You are in an arranged marriage with Jay Park. Jay is the CEO of a big company and a workaholic. It’s been 3 months since you guys signed a marriage contract and you have acted like the perfect wife, only to be greeted with Jay’s cold behavior. It’s starting to bother you because you have a secret… you’re an assassin on a mission.
zallas note: this is my first time posting fanfic on tumblr. I plan on making this a series so i may or may not post more parts on here depending on what i feel like. If you like my writing i mainly post on TikTok under the user @ywonspeare. Thanks for reading!
Y/N’S POV:
I walk in through the window. My phone flashes just as I finish crawling through the window. It’s a notification:
Jongseong: are you asleep?
Panic starts to flood through my mind. I had only left the house because I was sure nothing was going to happen. As every day passes I begin to be feel more and more unable to bear the silence and cold behavior in this house anymore. Every cold shoulder feels like another remembrance of how im failing this mission.
I shut the window gently, making sure there’s no noise.
A soft knock echos through the bedroom. He’s never visited my room before. A little spark grows in my chest, excitement.
I quietly rush to walk and open the door. He’s standing there soft and vulnerable. I’ve never seen him in his pajamas, or his hair tousled, it looks so soft I almost reach out to touch it out of instinct.
“Yes?” I mutter softly, kindly. I act like the docile wife I’m supposed to be.
“y/n” he replies softly, his eyes lined with something close to….pity?
Confusion flutters in my chest. I can’t think of a reason why he would pity me.
“I’m sorry for my cold behavior. I didn’t mean to hurt you, it was just so sudden- the marriage, that is- and I didn’t know who you were exactly-“ he begins to say softly as he stares at me so softly that I can’t believe it.
I tilt my head in confusion. “w-what?”
The shock in my voice is apparent, unlike the expectation I had of what it would sound like.
He looks away for a moment before meeting my gaze again and it almost looks like he blushes-
JAY’S POV:
Looking at her now… it’s even worse than when I saw the note.
…
A couple minutes ago when I got the shower and went downstairs for a glass of water I had spotted a note pad with her handwriting.
“Why won’t he love me? Every single time I try to get close he just pushes me away. This is so damn frustrating.”
She usually just plays her obedient wife role quite well but I didn’t expect this. I never felt that she actually loved me. It made me feel slightly bad for her, after all I had purposely been giving her the cold shoulder.
…
She’s kind of cute… now that I actually look at her. The confusion on her face, the light flush across her cheeks. It almost makes me feel like she’s focused on me as much as I am on her.
I cough before speaking “ahem- sorry I just thought I would apologize for how I was acting.” I look inside her room, it’s different from how I imagined it. “Can I come in?”
When I bring my gaze back to her face, her cheeks are pink. Cute.
Y/N’S POV:
WHATTTT??? WHAT DOES HE MEAN ‘CAN HE COME INSIDE’??
“it’s kind of messy right now, maybe later?” I try to reply calmly but I can feel the heat on my cheeks.
“It doesn’t-“ he begins to reply kindly, smiling like he’s almost enjoying my reaction.
“-sorry I was just about to fall asleep so maybe I should just go back to bed-“ I quickly sputter out and then close the door. As I lean on the door to catch my breath I swear I almost hear him speak under his breath “…cute…”
My hands reach up to touch my face, it’s burning.
copyright of @wonspeare
do not translate, plagiarize, copy&paste my work or feed this work to ai. If you used for inspo pls credit me!
warnings : smut- mdni, +18, secret relationship, secret sex, oral (f.rec), two rounds, almost getting caught, they're on a boat, they're both very rich, implied unprotected sex (be safe), I can't think of anything else
word count : 2k
taglist : @ikeuscape
💌 claudias note : I can't describe how much I hate this but you might like it so... likes and reblogs all appreciated!
The air in the grand ballroom of the SS Celestia is thick with the scent of expensive perfumes, aged champagne, and the stifling weight of expectation. You stand beside your mother, your posture rigid, wearing a silk gown that clings to every curve of your body like a second skin.
The fabric is a deep, shimmering emerald, slit high up the thigh to allow for movement, though you feel trapped by the invisible chains of your family's reputation.
Across the room, amidst the sea of tuxedos and diamonds, you see him. Jay.
He looks devastating in his black suit, his hair slightly tousled in a way that defies the strict grooming standards of his father’s empire. Your eyes lock, and the world around you fades into a blur of mindless chatter and clinking glasses. The tension between you is a living thing, a wire stretched to the breaking point.
For months, you’ve met in the shadows, stealing hours of desperate, hungry passion in hidden corners and locked rooms, all because your parents view your union as a social disaster.
Jay doesn't look away. He gives you a slow, predatory smirk, his gaze dropping from your eyes to the swell of your breasts and the exposed skin of your thigh. He knows exactly what you're thinking. He can see the hunger in your eyes, the way your nipples are already hardening against the silk of your dress.
He makes his move. With a calculated excuse to his parents, he weaves through the crowd, his eyes never leaving yours. As he passes by you, his hand brushes firmly against your lower back, his fingers digging into your flesh for a fleeting second.
"Excuse me for a moment, Mother," you murmur, your voice trembling. "I need some air."
You don't wait for an answer. You slip away, your heels clicking rapidly against the polished mahogany floors. You feel Jay right behind you, his presence a warm heat at your back. The moment you turn the corner into a dimly lit corridor, away from the prying eyes of the elite, he slams you against the wall.
The impact knocks the breath out of you, but you welcome it. Jay’s mouth crashes onto yours in a bruising, desperate kiss. He tastes of expensive scotch and raw desire. His tongue forces its way into your mouth, claiming you with a ferocity that makes your knees buckle. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, your fingers tangling in his hair.
"I've been wanting to rip this dress off you since the moment I saw you," Jay growls against your lips, his voice a low, gravelly vibration.
He grabs your hand and drags you down the hall to a private cabin he’d managed to secure. He kicks the door shut and locks it with a sharp click, the sound echoing like a starting gun. Before you can even breathe, he has you pinned against the door, his hands roaming frantically over your body.
He reaches down, grabbing the hem of your emerald dress and bunching the fabric up around your waist. He doesn't care about the silk; he only cares about the skin beneath. He finds your panties—thin, lace things that offer no protection—and hooks two fingers into the waistband, ripping them aside to get to your heat.
"You're so wet for me, (y/n)," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.
He slides two fingers deep into your pussy, and you let out a loud, sharp moan that echoes in the small cabin. You arch your back, grinding your hips against his hand, craving more. He pumps his fingers in and out of you with a rhythmic, punishing pace, his thumb rubbing circles over your clit until you're shaking.
"Please, Jay... now," you whimper, your head tossing back against the wood of the door.
Jay doesn't make you wait. He fumbles with his trousers, freeing his cock. It’s thick, pulsing, and fully erect. He grabs your thighs, hoisting your legs up around his waist. You wrap your ankles tight, locking him in.
With one powerful thrust, he drives himself deep inside you.
You scream into his shoulder, the sensation of him filling you completely sending a jolt of electricity through your spine. He’s huge, stretching you open, hitting your cervix with every heavy plunge. The friction is intense, the wet slap of his groin hitting your ass filling the room.
Jay begins to fuck you with a primal intensity, his movements raw and unfiltered. He isn't the polished heir to a fortune right now; he's a man starved for the woman he's forbidden to have. He grips your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your pale skin, as he hammers into you.
"You're mine," he grunts, his voice strained. "Fuck the parents. Fuck the money. You're mine."
You moan his name, your voice breaking as the pleasure builds. You can feel the vibrations of the ship's engines beneath you, blending with the rhythm of his thrusts. You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him to go faster, harder.
He shifts his angle, pulling you slightly higher so he can hit your G-spot with every stroke. You start to peak, your internal muscles clamping tight around his cock, milking him. The sensation is overwhelming, a tidal wave of heat that crashes over you. You shudder violently, your pussy pulsing around him in rhythmic contractions as you orgasm, your vision blurring.
The feeling of your climax triggers his own. Jay lets out a guttural groan, his body tensing as he delivers three more deep, powerful thrusts. He buries himself as deep as possible, his cock throbbing inside you as he erupts, filling you with hot, thick ropes of cum.
You both slump against the door, breathing heavily, the only sound the frantic beating of your hearts. Jay kisses your forehead, his grip on you still possessive and tight.
"We can't stay here long," he whispers, though he makes no move to let you go.
You lean your head against his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. Outside, the party continues, the rich and powerful oblivious to the act of rebellion that just took place in the shadows of their luxury. For now, in this locked cabin, the world doesn't exist—only the two of you and the lingering heat of your skin.
The adrenaline from the sex is still humming in your veins as you and Jay slowly begin to compose yourselves. You smooth down the emerald silk of your dress, though it’s still slightly rumpled, and Jay fixes his tie with a smirk that tells you he’s still thinking about how tight you felt around him.
"We have to go back," you whisper, though you lean in to steal one more kiss.
The moment your lips meet, the kiss shifts from sweet to hungry. Jay pins you against the cabin wall again, his hands sliding down to cup your ass, pulling you flush against his hardening cock. You moan into his mouth, your tongues dancing in a familiar, desperate rhythm. You're so lost in the taste of him that you don't hear the voices approaching in the corridor.
"I'm telling you, she's probably just freshening up her makeup," your mother’s sharp, aristocratic voice rings out, sounding dangerously close.
Your eyes snap open. You and Jay freeze, your lips still brushing, your bodies pressed tight against the door. You can hear the soft click of your mother's heels and the deep rumble of Jay's father's voice right outside.
"And Jay has vanished as well," his father notes, his tone suspicious. "It's highly irregular for both of them to disappear at the same time."
You hold your breath, your heart hammering against your ribs like a trapped bird. Jay’s hand is still firmly gripping your hip, and you can feel him trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the sheer thrill of the risk. The door handle jiggles. Just a fraction of an inch, but enough to make you gasp silently.
"Is someone in there?" your mother asks, her voice now right against the wood.
For a heartbeat, you're certain you're caught. You can almost imagine the scandal, the screaming, the immediate separation. But then, a loud crash echoes from the far end of the hall—a waiter dropping a tray of champagne flutes. The distraction is instant.
"Oh, for heaven's sake," your mother sighs. "Come along, let's find the host."
As the footsteps fade away, you and Jay collapse against each other, bursting into a fit of hushed, manic giggles. The terror transforms into a rush of euphoria. You grab his hand and pull him out of the cabin, not heading back toward the ballroom, but sprinting in the opposite direction.
You run through the winding corridors, laughing and whispering, your heels clicking rapidly. You don't stop until you reach the very end of the boat, the secluded observation deck where the salt spray of the ocean mists your skin and the moonlight turns the waves into shimmering silver.
"That was way too close," you pant, leaning against the railing, your chest heaving.
Jay is grinning, his eyes dark with a different kind of hunger now. "I don't know... I kind of liked the risk."
He steps closer, his presence enveloping you. He doesn't go for your lips this time. Instead, he drops to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you let out a small, surprised sound as he looks up at you, his gaze fixed on the slit of your dress.
"You were so loud in the cabin," he murmurs, his voice a low growl. "I want to hear you again. But this time, I want to take my time."
He reaches out, sliding his hands up your thighs, bunching the emerald fabric up until it's gathered around your waist. He doesn't bother with the lace panties this time; he simply hooks his fingers into the side and rips them away, tossing them onto the deck.
Your pussy is still glistening and swollen from the previous round, the scent of your arousal mixing with the salty sea air. Jay doesn't hesitate. He leans in and presses his face against you, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine before his tongue makes first contact.
He starts with a slow, broad lick, starting from the bottom of your opening and dragging his tongue all the way up to your clit. You gasp, your fingers gripping the cold metal railing for support.
"Oh god, Jay..."
He doesn't stop. He begins to lap at you with a rhythmic, swirling motion, his tongue focusing entirely on your clit. He sucks the small, sensitive nub into his mouth, applying a firm, pulsing suction that makes your toes curl. He knows exactly how you like it—the perfect balance of pressure and flicking movements.
You arch your back, your head falling back as you stare up at the stars. The sensation is electric. Jay is relentless, his tongue working with a precision that is almost agonizing. He uses his fingers to spread your folds wide, ensuring every inch of your wetness is tasted, while his tongue continues to hammer away at your clit.
He begins to suck harder, his cheeks hollowing as he draws the pleasure out of you. You can feel the tension building again, a coil tightening in your lower belly. You start to moan, the sound echoing over the sound of the crashing waves.
"Right there... please, Jay, right there!" you whimper, your hips beginning to buck instinctively against his face.
He responds by sliding two fingers deep inside you, mimicking the thrusting motion of his cock while his tongue continues to flick rapidly against your clit. The double stimulation is too much. You feel the wave crashing over you, a violent, shimmering orgasm that makes your entire body shake.
You scream his name into the night air, your internal muscles clamping tight around his fingers as you peak. Jay doesn't pull away; he stays there, sucking and licking through the height of your climax, drinking in every drop of your release.
As you slowly come down, breathless and shaking, Jay looks up at you, a stray drop of your juices glistening on his lip. He looks completely satisfied, a predatory, loving glint in his eyes.
"Best part of the trip so far," he whispers, before standing up to pull you into a tight, possessive embrace.
in which ; you got a dm from a hot guy not too long ago asking if you'd like to collab with him for his page, being the first girl he'd bring to the public as a solo content creator.
you can't feel anything. other than his hips relentlessly slamming into you repeatedly.
you're blindfolded, but the thin black fabric does nothing to block your sight. it's only their to hide your identity from the public. your hands grip the sheets roughly, whining about deep jay's cock is.
the lights are blinding, two cameras getting the view from the front and from the side. on jay's right, where one camera is are propped up monitors showing the live chat.
ilikefootball12: is her body gifted by the gods?
sleepy_404: fuck those moans r hot
jakelovesdogs: mommyyyyy
heeseungch2: wifey material
every few minutes, someone spends a few bucks to send a text that plays out loud. saying things like "can i marry her after this?" or "dude, lift up her shirt." and jay listens, lifting up your shirt for everyone to see your perky soft tits.
jay whispers in your ear, "dirty girl, you like it don't you? like being watched by a ton of guys knowing they can't fuck you like this?"
each thrust is practically almost knocking the lights out of you, your words incoherent but clear to him, he's making you feel so good.
his hands roam up and down your small waist, lifting up your hips to make more room at this angle to go deeper inside of you.
"jay-" you whine his name.
"i know baby i know, shh. you're doing so well, you can keep up right?" he says with mocking sympathy.
he loves it, being in full control of you. your panties are wrapped around hi
you nod repeatedly.
he begins to move at a quicker pace, clearly wanting you to make a mess all over him. you plop face first into the pillow, having no more energy to further hold yourself up on all fours.
he presses down your back slightly, deepening your arch. you cry out his name multiple times, he listens, he won't cum until you do.
"i know love, it's okay. let loose, i'll lick up all the mess."
jay's hand moves down to interlace his fingers with yours, guiding you through everything.
you clench him around him tightly as warm liquids spray all over him and the sheets. he lets out a hiss at the sudden tightness, but continues thrusting.
he pulls out, stroking himself a few times before shooting his warm white dropplings on your bare flushed back.
the chat is going crazy, but he doesn't pay no mind any more, getting up to turn off the stream entirely. he makes his way back and lifts up the blindfold, revealing your puffy teary eyes.
he leans in to share a tender kiss with you. "i want to do this again, if it's fine with you."
you nod.
he's too hot and his dick is too big for you to let this chance pass you.
sorry mom and dad.
authors note ; hi guys hope u liked this one!! plspls send me requests dont be shy id love to put your guys' imaginations to life!
₊˚⊹♡ A solo business trip to Lake Como sounded like the perfect escape, and after a night of bar hopping, you meet a stranger who catches your eye. Deciding to have a little fun, you spend the night with him, only to wake up the next morning in an unfamiliar luxury hotel room. Realizing you're about to miss your flight back to Singapore, you quickly write an apology note, leave some money behind, and slip out before he wakes up, convinced you'll never see him again. But the moment you get home, your father announces that, for the sake of the family business, you've been arranged to marry the heir of another powerful company. With no way to refuse, you reluctantly agree to meet him. Less than 3 weeks after leaving Lake Como behind, you're sitting at dinner with your parents, waiting for your future fiancé to arrive... until a man takes the seat across from you. It's him... the stranger you disappeared on in Lake Como. Oh, this is gonna be a fun ride... isn't it?
𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙪𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙣𝙙! 𝙟𝙖𝙮 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
Arranged marriage, one night stand, enemies to lovers, forced proximity, billionaire romance, slow burn, banter, jealousy, angst, fluff, luxury lifestyle, corporate politics, family drama, mature themes, happy ending.
WARNINGS: Explicit Sexual Content, Strangers to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Angry Sex, Dirty Talk, Light Spanking, Hair Pulling, Light Choking, Overstimulation, Creampie, Oral Sex, Fingering, Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Family Pressure
wc: 17,920
Songs 🎧: The Hills- The Weeknd, Or Nah - The Weeknd, Wiz Khalifa, & Mustard, Despacito - Luis Fonsi & Daddy Yankee, There's Nothing Holdin' Me Back - Shawn Mendes, Mercy - Shawn Mendes, Here- Alessia Cara, Siren Sounds (bonus)- Tate McRae, In the Name of Love- Martin Garrix & Bebe Rexha
CHAPTER 1: LATE NIGHTS IN LAKE COMO
I didn't come to Lake Como to fall into bed with a stranger. I came because my father's company was closing a deal with an Italian textile group and someone with a Singaporean passport and a decent grasp of contract law needed to sit in on the meetings, and that someone was me. Three days of negotiations, translators, and men twice my age calling me "young lady" instead of my actual title, and by the third night I was so done being professional.
"One night," my colleague Minji had said, clinking her glass against mine while we were on a terrace that overlooked the water so still it looked like it was painted on. "One night where you're not Mr. Song's daughter. Just you."
I'd laughed her off at first. And then I'd had a second glass of wine, and a third. Somewhere between the second bar and the third… a place with string lights and a DJ who clearly thought hip hop was a personality, Minji had gone off with some guy she just met at the last bar we were at. So I'd found myself alone at the counter, spinning the handle of my glass between two fingers, when a voice beside me said, in heavily accented but confident English…
"You're doing that thing where you're thinking too hard for someone on vacation."
I'd turned, ready to deliver the practiced brush off I gave every man who tried his luck with me in a bar, but the words had evaporated somewhere in my throat.
He was… objectively, impersonally, in the most detached way I could manage while I was literally half drunk… the best looking man I'd seen in person in my entire adult life. Dark hair pushed back like he'd run a hand through it and wasn't bothered to fix it, a jaw I could've used as a straightedge, and eyes that held a kind of lazy, unbothered amusement, like he found the whole world a little bit funny and had decided I was the funniest part of it tonight.
"I'm not on vacation," I said. "I'm working."
"In a bar. At eleven at night."
"It's a very demanding job."
He'd smiled then… slow, crooked, entirely too aware of its own effect, and ordered us both something with too much rum in it, and by midnight I'd learned nothing true about him. Not his last name, not what he did, not which hotel he was staying at, only that his name was Jay, that he laughed like he meant it, and that he had a way of looking at me that made me forget I'd sworn off men in suits after my last two relationships had both ended over a damn spreadsheet.
"You're trouble," I told him, somewhere around my fourth bar, when his hand had found the small of my back and left it there like it belonged.
"I get that a lot," he said. "You gonna do something about it, or just complain?"
Somewhere between bar three and bar four, I'd made him guess my job, "finance," he'd said immediately, squinting at me like he could read a balance sheet off my face, "no, wait… something in law, you argue like someone who's used to winning," and I'd neither confirmed nor denied it, just let him keep guessing, delighted by how genuinely invested he seemed in being right. He, in turn, had refused directly to tell me what he did, only that it involved "a lot of boring meetings and even more boring men," which had made me laugh so hard I'd nearly knocked my drink into a total stranger's lap.
"You're avoiding the question," I'd told him, jabbing a finger into his chest.
"I'm creating mystery," he'd corrected. "It's a strategy."
"It's evasive."
"It's working, isn't it? You're still here."
I couldn't argue with that. By the fourth bar, the DJ had switched to something with a Latin beat that made the whole floor move as one body, and Jay had pulled me into it without asking, hand at my waist, hips finding the rhythm like it was something he did often, and I'd stopped pretending, even to myself, that I had any intention of going back to my hotel alone that night.
"For someone who does boring meetings," I'd shouted over the music, "you dance like you do this professionally."
"Hidden talents," he'd said against my ear, and I'd felt the words more than heard them, warm and low, and something in my chest had done a slow, dangerous flip that I chose, deliberately, not to examine.
I should have called it a night right there. I didn't.
The walk back to his hotel blurred into a memory I'd revisit more than I'd ever admit… the lake at my left catching the moon, his jacket over my shoulders because I'd complained once about the wind, his mouth against my temple at a red light because apparently he couldn't wait until we were inside. The lobby of his hotel was the kind of quietly obscene luxury that told me he wasn't just some backpacker with a nice face… marble floors, a chandelier that had probably cost more than my apartment, a night staff that greeted him by name with the particular deference reserved for people who paid for entire floors.
I noticed. I filed it away. I didn't ask.
Neither of us were interested in talking anymore anyway.
I didn’t even make it past the doorstep of his suite before he had me pinned against the door, his mouth claiming mine in a kiss that stole every last bit of breath from my lungs.
The click of the lock was barely audible over the pounding of my heart. His body pressed flush against mine… hard chest, strong thighs, the unmistakable bulge of his erection already straining against my hip. One of his hands tangled in my hair, tilting my head exactly how he wanted while the other gripped my waist, fingers digging in like he was afraid I might disappear.
“God, you taste even better than I imagined,” he growled against my lips, tongue sweeping in to taste me deeper. The kiss was messy, urgent, all teeth and tongue and raw hunger. I moaned into his mouth, hands fisting the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer.
When he finally broke away, both of us gasping, his lips trailed hot, open mouthed kisses down my neck. He sucked hard at my pulse point, then soothed it with his tongue. “Been thinking about this since the second I saw you at that bar,” he murmured, voice low and rough. “Wondering how you’d sound when I finally get my mouth on you.”
My dress was already riding up from how I wrapped my legs around him earlier on the dance floor. Jay’s hand slid under the hem, palming my ass, squeezing. “So fucking soft. I can’t wait to taste every inch.”
He lifted me effortlessly, my legs locking around his waist as he carried me toward the massive king bed. The suite’s floor to ceiling windows overlooked the moonlit lake, but neither of us spared it a glance. He laid me down gently, but the look in his eyes was anything but… dark, predatory, starving.
Jay knelt between my spread thighs, pushing my dress higher. “Let me see you.” His fingers hooked onto my lace panties, dragging them down slowly, teasingly. Once they were off, he spread my legs wider, eyes locked on my glistening pussy. “Look at you. Already so wet for me. Such a pretty little cunt.”
I whimpered at his words, hips shifting restlessly. He leaned in, blowing cool air over my heated flesh before his tongue licked a slow, broad stripe from my entrance up to my clit. The sensation made my back arch off the bed.
“Fuck—Jay—”
“Mmm, say my name again,” he demanded, then sealed his mouth over my clit, sucking gently while his tongue flicked rapidly. Two thick fingers pushed inside me without warning, curling to stroke that spongy spot that made you see stars. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room.
He ate me out like a man possessed… long, hungry licks, tight circles around my clit, then sucking hard while his fingers pumped faster. “Tastes so fucking good,” he groaned against me, the vibrations shooting pleasure through my core. “Sweet and creamy. I could stay down here all night.”
My hands flew to his hair, gripping tight as my thighs started to tremble. He added a third finger, stretching me deliciously, scissoring them while his tongue worked my clit relentlessly.
“Come for me, baby. Let me feel this pussy squeeze my fingers.”
The orgasm hit me like a wave, crashing over me hard. I cried out his name, hips bucking against his face as he licked me through every pulse, drinking down every drop.
But he didn’t stop. He kept licking, gentler now, until the overstimulation turned back into building pleasure. Only then did he pull back, lips shiny with my arousal, and crawl up my body.
He kissed me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “See how good you taste? I’m going to make you come on my tongue again before I fuck you.”
I reached for his belt, desperate to feel him. He helped me strip him, his cock springing free… heavy, thick, veined, the head already glistening with precum. I wrapped my hand around him, stroking slowly.
“Fuck, your hand feels amazing,” he hissed. “But I need your mouth first.”
He guided me up, sitting back against the headboard. I settled between his thighs, looking up at him as I licked up the underside of his cock. Jay’s head fell back with a groan.
“That’s it… just like that. Take your time, baby. Worship it.”
I swirled my tongue around the head, tasting the precum, then sucked him into my mouth. He was big… stretching my lips wide. I bobbed my head, taking more each time, using my hand on what I couldn’t fit.
“Shit—your mouth is perfect. So warm and wet. Suck harder—yeah, just like that.”
His hand rested lightly on my head, not forcing, just guiding. I relaxed my throat and took him deeper, humming around him. Jay cursed, hips twitching.
“Gonna come if you keep that up,” he warned, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to push him over the edge.
When he finally pulled me off, his eyes were wild. “Not yet. I want to be inside you when I come the first time.”
He rolled on a condom quickly, then positioned himself between my thighs. “Ready?”
“Yes—please, Jay.”
He pushed in slowly, letting me feel every thick inch stretching me open. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, grinding deep. “So tight. Taking me so well. This pussy was made for my cock.”
Then he started moving… long, deep strokes that built steadily. I wrapped my legs around him, nails raking down his back. He leaned down to suck on my nipples, alternating between them while he fucked me.
The pace quickened. Skin slapped against skin. He reached between me to rub my clit in tight circles.
“Come again for me. I want to feel you milking my cock.”
I shattered around him, clenching hard. Jay groaned, thrusting through my orgasm before pulling out.
“On your hands and knees,” he ordered.
I obeyed, ass up. He spread my cheeks, licking from my clit all the way up, teasing my other hole briefly with his tongue before diving back into my pussy.
“Fucking delicious,” he muttered, then slammed back inside me from behind. The new angle was devastating. He fucked me hard, one hand in my hair, the other reaching around to rub my clit.
“Tell me how much you love my cock,” he demanded between thrusts.
“I love it—fuck—so deep—don’t stop—”
He reached around and pinched my clit, sending me over again. This time he followed, burying himself deep and coming with a guttural moan of my name.
"Gosh, y/n"
We collapsed together, but the night was far from over.
After a short breather, he pulled me into the shower. Under the hot spray, he dropped to his knees again, water falling over both of us as he ate me out against the glass wall… tongue fucking into me, fingers everywhere, until I came screaming.
Then I returned the favor, sucking him off on my knees until he spilled down my throat with a hoarse shout.
Back in bed, he took me slow and deep in, whispering filthy praises the whole time, “Look at how well you take me… your pussy is so greedy for my cock… gonna fill you up again soon…”
I rode him next, grinding down, his hands guiding my hips while he sucked marks into my breasts.
By the time the sky started to lighten, I'd lost count of how many times he’d made me come… on his tongue, on his fingers, on his cock. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Jay held me close afterward, kissing my temple, both of us boneless and satisfied.
But even as sleep pulled at me, I knew I’d have to leave soon.
CHAPTER 2: THE NOTE
I woke up to sunlight shining gold across a bed that wasn't mine, in a room the size of my childhood living room, with an arm slung heavy and warm over my waist and my flight… my flight… leaving in three hours.
For one forgiving, traitorous second, I let myself lie there. Let myself feel the solid heat of him at my back, the slow rhythm of his breathing, the absolute stupidity of how good it had felt to be someone else's for one night, no expectations, no last names, no Song Corporation trailing behind me like a shadow with a balance sheet.
Then my phone, buried somewhere in my discarded clothes, buzzed with a reminder, and reality slapped me awake.
I slid out from under his arm with the sneakiness of someone who had, in a past life, definitely been a cat burglar. He stirred, murmured something impossible to understand, and rolled onto his front, and I froze mid motion for a full ten seconds before he settled again.
Dressing in the dark… or rather, dressing in far too much golden Italian sunlight while trying to be quiet about it… was its own special kind of chaos. I found my dress inside out on an armchair, one shoe by the door and the other, mysteriously, on the balcony. I did not investigate how it got there.
I should have just left. That would have been the smart thing. The clean thing. I had done this before… not this exact scenario, not a man who made my pulse skip just by saying my overthinking out loud, but the general shape of it, the one night stand that ended at sunrise with no numbers exchanged and no promises made. I was good at leaving. I'd built an entire adult life around being good at leaving before anyone got the chance to leave me first.
So why did my hand shake, just slightly, reaching for the hotel notepad.
I told myself it was the time pressure. The flight. The three hours narrowing by the minute while I stood in a stranger's hotel room debating the ethics of a goodbye note like it was a legal document requiring careful drafting. I told myself it had nothing to do with the way he'd said my name… just my first name, I realized with a small, absurd jolt, because I'd never told him last name, nothing to do with Song, just hey, you, careful, murmured against my hair sometime after midnight in a way that had felt, in the moment, more intimate than anything a stranger's name had a right to feel.
Instead I found a hotel notepad by a bowl of fruit no one had touched, and a pen with the hotel's logo engraved in gold, and I stood there chewing my lip, staring at a man whose last name I didn't know, feeling something uncomfortably close to guilt.
Had to run… flight I can't miss. Last night was fun. Sorry for ghosting, it's not you, it's timing. Left some money for the minibar since I definitely helped myself. Take care of yourself, stranger.
I looked at it, cringed, and added a folded stack of euros on top… not much, just enough to make the note read as a joke instead of what it actually was, which was panic dressed up as nonchalance. Then I slipped my shoes on in the hallway, and I left.
I did not look back at the bed. I told myself that later, on the plane, somewhere over the Arabian Sea with a complimentary champagne I didn't taste, three separate times, and I did not believe myself even once.
CHAPTER 3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT
Jay woke up to an empty bed, a note that made his jaw tighten in a way he didn't examine too closely, and a stack of euros that felt, more than anything else that morning, like an insult.
Money for the minibar. Like he was a service she'd paid for and rated four stars. Like he was forgettable.
He wasn't used to forgettable. He wasn't used to being forgotten, not by women who'd looked at him the way she had… like he was the punchline to a joke only she knew, like she'd already decided he was fun but temporary before he'd even opened his mouth. He'd let a stranger walk into his hotel room, into his night, into apparently his head, and she'd left him folded currency like a tip.
He didn't know her last name. He didn't have her number. He had a room that still smelled like her perfume and a bruised ego he was going to pretend, for the sake of his own dignity, that he didn't have.
Fine, he thought, staring at the note until the words blurred. Fun while it lasted.
He had no idea, standing there in a hotel bathrobe at nine in the morning with wounded pride and lake view sunlight in his eyes, that the universe had already decided this was very much not over.
…
Three weeks after returning from Lake Como, I'd almost convinced myself the whole thing had been nothing more than a reckless business-trip mistake. I landed back into my routine feeling like myself again...… jet-lagged, sunburned in one uneven stripe across my shoulder, but myself, the version of me that answered emails and knew her own last name and hadn't spent a night pretending to be someone with no responsibilities. I told myself the whole flight home that Lake Como had been a bracket I was closing. Nothing that would follow me home.
My family had built Song Corporation from a single shipping route between Busan and Singapore three decades ago, back when my grandfather first left Korea with nothing but a cargo plan and a stubborn streak my father had inherited in full. I'd grown up between two languages and two sets of expectations… the quiet formality of my parents' generation, still rooted in Seoul even after thirty years abroad, and the faster, blunter world I'd built for myself in Singapore. Dinners at my parents' house still opened with a bow to my grandmother's photo on the mantel. My father still switched to Korean the second he was truly angry, which was usually the only warning I got before bad news landed.
My father was waiting for me at the dining table that evening, which was never a good sign. My father did not wait for people. People waited for him. The fact that he'd cleared his calendar to be sitting there with my mother, both of them wearing the particular stillness of people about to deliver news they'd already decided I would accept, made my stomach drop before he'd said a single word.
"Sit," he said. Not unkind. Just certain.
I sat.
"The Park deal," he began, and I already hated where this was going, because my father only used that tone… measured, deliberate, like he was reading from a contract instead of speaking to his daughter, for things he knew I wouldn't like. "Chairman Park and I have been in discussion for the last several months. Song Corporation and Park Industries merging our shipping and logistics divisions would put us in a position no one in this region could touch."
"Okay," I said slowly. "That's… good news? Why do you look like you're about to tell me someone died."
"Because," my mother said gently, reaching for my hand, "the merger comes with a condition. A marriage. Between you and Chairman Park's son."
The room tilted slightly. I laughed… an actual, disbelieving bark of a laugh, because surely, surely this was a joke, the kind my father sometimes attempted and always failed to land. "I'm sorry, what?"
"It secures the partnership for a generation," my father said, unmoved by my reaction, already reciting the argument he'd clearly rehearsed for this exact response. "It's not unusual in either of our families' histories. You know that."
"I know it's not unusual for it to happen to other people," I snapped. "I didn't think it would be me. I have a life, I have a job, I have… I don't even know this man!"
"You'll meet him tomorrow night. Dinner, here, informal. Chairman Park's son has agreed to the arrangement." My father's voice didn't so much as waver. "His name is Jay. I'm told he's reasonable. Personable. You could do far worse." Common name, right?
"And if I say no?" I hated how small my voice sounded, even to my own ears. "What happens then?"
My father set down his fork with the deliberate care of a man choosing his next words carefully. "Then the merger falls through. Ten years of negotiations, gone. Six thousand jobs across both companies put at risk over your reluctance to have dinner with a man you haven't even met." He softened, marginally, seeing something in my face he hadn't intended to put there. "I'm not asking you to marry a stranger tomorrow. I'm asking you to give this a chance. If, after time, you genuinely cannot stand him, we will find another solution. I promise you that. But I need you to try."
"That's not a real choice, father, and you know it."
"No," he admitted, quietly, which was somehow worse than if he'd simply argued. "It isn't. I'm sorry for that. But I built this company for you to inherit one day, and I need it to still exist by the time that day comes."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to slam my palms on the table and demand to know since when my entire future got decided over a boardroom handshake while I was out of the country closing a completely different deal for this same family. But I'd grown up in this house, under this roof, with this particular brand of love that came wrapped in obligation, and I knew… the way I knew the tide would come in, the way I knew the sun would set, that there was no version of tonight where I won this argument.
"Fine," I said, because it was the only word left that didn't come out as a scream. "Fine. I'll meet him. But I'm not promising anything beyond dinner."
My father, for the first time all evening, allowed himself something like a smile. "That's all I'm asking."
I went to bed that night thinking of Lake Como. Of a stranger's mouth against my temple, of a note I'd left folded on a hotel pillow, of the particular freedom of one night where nobody expected anything of me at all.
I had no idea how badly the universe was about to collapse those two lives into one.
CHAPTER 4: THE MAN ACROSS THE TABLE
I spent the following day in a fog somewhere between denial and minor panic, which was, in thinking back, an appropriate emotional state for what was coming.
My mother had chosen the restaurant… a private dining room in one of the hotels my family half owned, all dark wood and candlelight and a view of the skyline that was supposed to make everyone feel expansive and hopeful about the future. I wore the green dress my mother liked, the one that made me look, in her words, "like someone a Chairman's son would be lucky to marry," which was possibly the least comforting compliment I'd ever received.
I sat between my parents, watching the door, running through every version of this conversation in my head. Hello, nice to meet you, I hear we're being sold to each other for a logistics contract. I'd decided, somewhere around my second glass of water, that I would be polite. Cool. Unbothered. I would give this man exactly as much warmth as the situation legally required and not one degree more.
Then the door opened, and every rehearsed line I had died in my throat at once.
He walked in like he owned the room… because, I would later learn, in a very literal sense, he frequently did… dressed in a black suit that fit him with the kind of precision that only exists on men who've never had to wonder if they could afford tailoring. Dark hair, pushed back. A jaw I would recognize with my eyes closed, in a pitch black room, from memory alone, because I'd spent an embarrassing amount of a transatlantic flight trying not to think about that exact jaw.
He stopped mid stride. His eyes found mine, and for one full second, the easy, practiced charm on his face cracked straight down the middle into something like disbelief.
Him.
The stranger from Lake Como. The one I'd left a note and a stack of euros for. The one whose bed I'd slipped out of eighteen hours ago like a thief in the night, convinced… convinced… I would never see him again.
He recovered faster than I did. Of course he did. He slid into the seat across from me, straightened his jacket, and looked at me with an expression that was, if I had to name it, delighted… the specific delight of a predator that had just realized its dinner walked directly into the trap.
"Jay," my father said, standing to shake his hand, oblivious to the silent war being waged across his dining table. "This is my daughter."
"We've met," Jay said, eyes never leaving mine, mouth curling into a smile with teeth in it. "Haven't we?"
I picked up my water glass and drank the entire thing to keep from saying something that would get me disowned.
"Briefly," I managed. "In passing."
"That's not really how I'd describe it," Jay said, settling back in his chair with the unbothered ease of a man who had just been handed the single best piece of leverage of his entire life. "But sure. In passing."
My mother, blessedly, missed the hidden meaning entirely and launched into some pleasantry about the wine list. My father asked Jay about his flight in from Lake Como… of course he'd been in Lake Como, of course the business trip that ruined my life and the business trip that arranged my marriage were the exact same trip… and I sat there, spine locked straight, silently calculating how many ways I could disappear from this table without causing an international incident.
Jay answered every question my parents asked with the polished, charming ease of someone raised for exactly this kind of performance. And every few sentences, without fail, his eyes would slide back to me… amused, sharp, unmistakably promising that this conversation was very much not over.
Under the table, his knee brushed mine. Deliberately. I yanked my leg back like I'd been burned.
"So," he said, once dessert had arrived and my parents had drifted into a side conversation about the merger's logistics, low enough that only I could hear him. "Fun while it lasted, huh?"
My stomach dropped straight through the floor. "You read the note."
"I read the note." His voice was pleasant. Terrifyingly pleasant. "Money for the minibar was a nice touch. Very classy."
"I panicked," I hissed. "I had a flight to catch."
"You could've woken me up."
"I didn't want to wake you up. That was rather the point of leaving quietly."
"Right." He leaned back, studying me the way I imagine a shark studies a swimmer it hasn't decided whether to eat yet. "Because I'm just some guy you paid for room service and left behind. Except now it turns out I'm the guy your father wants you to marry. Small world, huh, Ms. Song?"
I hated how good my last name sounded coming out of his mouth like a threat. "This isn't funny."
"I think it's a little funny."
"Jay—"
"Relax." He picked up his wine glass, and something flickered behind his eyes that wasn't amusement at all… something colder, sharper, a decision being made in real time. "I'm not going to tell them. Wouldn't want to embarrass you in front of your parents. But you and I—" he tilted his glass toward me, the picture of civility, "…we're going to have a lot to talk about."
I had never, in my entire adult life, wanted to disappear so badly.
"This isn't a punishment," I said. "For me. Whatever you're thinking. I don't owe you an apology for leaving."
"Didn't say you did." His smile turned into something private, something I didn't trust at all. "But you left before I got the chance to make an impression. Seems only fair I get a second shot. We're going to be married, after all." He said the word married like he was trying it out for size, testing its weight, and something about the way it landed in his mouth made my whole body go warm and furious at once. "Might as well make it interesting."
He's going to make me pay, I thought, watching him raise his glass toward my parents in a toast neither of us had agreed to. This is a man who is going to make me pay for that note for the rest of my life.
I had absolutely no idea, yet, how right I was… or how much I'd eventually come to regret ever wanting it any other way.
…
Jay walked me to my car after dinner, which I was fairly certain was less about being a gentleman and more about getting me alone long enough to finish the conversation my parents hadn't been allowed to overhear.
"You could've said something," I hissed, the second the valet was out of earshot. "At the table. You let me sit there thinking I was about to meet a total stranger."
"And what would you have preferred? Me standing up mid appetizer announcing, 'Actually, we've met, she left me for dead in a hotel room in Lake Como after we did it'? Your mother would've had a heart attack into the bread basket."
"This isn't funny, Jay."
"I told you, I think it's a little funny." He leaned against the hood of my car, entirely too relaxed for a man whose entire future had just been decided over dessert. "Here's what I don't get. You looked at me tonight like I was a problem to be managed. But less than three weeks ago you looked at me like—"
"Don't."
"…like you couldn't get enough," he finished anyway, watching my face for a reaction he clearly enjoyed getting. "What changed? Besides the small detail of our fathers turning it into a business contract."
"Everything changed," I said. "That night was supposed to be nothing. A story I'd tell at parties. Not a… a lifetime commitment."
"Scared?"
"Furious," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"Is there?" He straightened off the car, close enough now that I had to tip my chin up to hold his gaze, and something in his voice dropped, lower, more serious than the teasing he'd kept up all night. "For what it's worth, I didn't ask for this either. I found out about the arrangement two days ago, same as you probably found out today. It's not like I knew it was you either… only to discover tonight it's the lady who decided I wasn't worth a proper goodbye."
That landed harder than I expected. "I told you. I panicked."
"I know." Something in his expression softened, just slightly, before the familiar smirk slid back into place like armor. "Doesn't mean I'm not going to enjoy watching you squirm about it for a while."
"You are the worst person I have ever met."
"You said something very different 3 weeks ago," he said, opening my car door for me with an exaggerated little bow. "Goodnight, Ms. Song. See you at the engagement shoot."
"The what—"
He was already walking away, hands in his pockets, whistling something I was fairly sure was deliberately, infuriatingly cheerful, and I sat in my car for a full five minutes after he'd disappeared around the corner before I trusted myself to drive.
…
The engagement shoot, as it turned out, was very real, and very public, and scheduled for exactly six days later… a joint press release for two companies merging their shipping empires needed a photogenic couple to sell it, and apparently Jay and I were now, officially, that couple. A stylist tumbled in my apartment with three racks of clothing. A photographer with an assistant who called him "genius" without a trace of irony spent two hours arranging us against a backdrop of the harbor, murmuring instructions like closer, a little closer, now look at each other like you mean it.
"We're supposed to look like we mean it," Jay murmured, tilting my chin up with two fingers, entirely for the camera, entirely too gentle for a gesture that was supposed to be fake. "Think you can manage that?"
"I've been managing it all week," I muttered back, aware of how thin the line had become between performing something and actually feeling it.
The photos ran three days later… me in cream, Jay in navy, his hand at my waist and my head tipped back mid laugh at something he'd actually said, not scripted, a genuine reaction the photographer had caught by accident and declared "the shot." My mother framed it. Chairman Park used it for the official press release. Half my social circle sent me messages about how happy we two looked, how natural, and I sat there scrolling through the comments feeling something uncomfortably close to guilt, because the photo wasn't a lie, exactly. It just wasn't the whole truth either.
CHAPTER 5: ENGAGED, APPARENTLY
The engagement was announced within the week, because apparently when two companies decide to merge their shipping divisions, nobody sees the point in a long engagement. There was a press release. There was a photo… me in a dress that cost more than my first car I bought for myself, Jay's hand at the small of my back in the exact same place it had been in a bar in Lake Como, except this time there were cameras, and this time it meant something entirely different.
"Smile," Jay murmured through his teeth as the photographers called for one more shot. "You look like you're being arrested."
"I am being arrested," I muttered back, teeth also gritted, smile also plastered on. "Just with better lighting."
"Careful," he said, low enough that only I could hear. "People might start thinking you don't like me."
"People would be correct."
"That hurts," he said, sounding not remotely hurt. "Especially considering how much you liked me a few week ago in a hotel room with a view of the lake. While you moaned my name—"
I stomped, discreetly, on his foot. He didn't even flinch, just smiled wider for the cameras, and I hated… hated… how much I wanted to laugh.
…
Jay and I were, by both families' decision, to move into a penthouse together ahead of the wedding… "to get comfortable with each other," my mother said, with the specific confidence of a woman who had clearly never had to share a bathroom counter with a man she was furious at. The penthouse was Park property, forty floors up, all glass and steel and a view of the harbor that would've been romantic under literally any other circumstances.
It had two bedrooms. Thank goodness…
The first month was a war led almost entirely through passive aggression and pointed silences. Jay left his shoes in the hallway specifically, I was convinced, because he knew it drove me insane. I reacted back by rearranging his entire closet by color instead of by season, which he discovered at seven in the morning while trying to find a specific navy suit and instead found himself surrounded by a rainbow of confusion.
"You're a menace," he told me over breakfast, hair still damp from a shower, tie hanging undone around his neck because he hadn't had time to finish it.
"I'm efficient," I said, not looking up from my coffee. "Color coding is a perfectly reasonable system."
"It's an act of war."
"Tie your tie, Jay, you have a board meeting."
He glared at me. I didn't look up. He tied the tie badly out of spite, and we both knew it, and neither of us said another word about it, and somehow that felt like the closest thing to a truce either of us had managed in weeks.
…
The banter was constant, and it was, if I was being honest with myself… which I tried very hard not to be… the best part of my day. He teased me about my coffee order (too complicated, he said, for someone who claimed to hate complications). I teased him about the fact that he talked to his car like it could hear him. He'd catch me smiling at something he said and immediately point it out, "Was that a laugh? Did I just make Ms. Song laugh?" and I'd immediately stop, purely on principle, which only made him laugh harder.
It would have been easy, dangerously easy, to enjoy it. I reminded myself, nightly, in the privacy of my own bedroom with the door locked, that this was a business arrangement wearing the costume of a relationship, and that the man three doors down had made it very clear, that first dinner, that he intended to make me pay for leaving him in Lake Como. I didn't trust charm that came with a motive. I'd learned that the hard way, long before Jay Park ever existed.
So I kept my walls up. Mostly.
It was easier some days than others.
…
RULES
Two weeks into this, I'd decided the situation required structure, so I'd drafted… because of course I had, I was my father's daughter whether I liked it or not… an actual list of household rules and taped it to the refrigerator.
Jay found it while looking for orange juice.
"'Rule one,'" he read aloud, deadpan, holding his glass of juice like a prop, "'No shoes in the hallway.' Sweetheart, this is a shared home, not a monastery."
"Rule one exists because you have never once, not a single time, taken your shoes off before the front door."
"'Rule two: knock before entering shared spaces if the other person is, and I quote, "visibly stressed."'" He looked up at me over the side of the paper. "How am I supposed to gauge 'visibly stressed' from outside a closed door?"
"You'll know."
"'Rule three—'" he squinted, "'… do not, under any circumstances, refer to this arrangement as "cute" in front of either family.' Why would I call this cute?"
"Because you called it cute to my mother yesterday and she looked ready to start planning nursery colors."
"It was cute. You made me a cup of coffee without me asking. That's basically a marriage proposal in this household."
"It was leftover coffee. I was being economical."
"Sure." He folded the list in half, tucked it into his back pocket like a souvenir instead of leaving it on the fridge, and I decided, very firmly, not to comment on that either.
Jay and I fell, without either of us quite agreeing to it, into a rhythm that felt almost domestic… he made appalling instant noodles at midnight and somehow always made a second bowl without being asked, I learned, against my will, the exact way he liked his coffee, dark, no sugar, one useless ice cube "for the aesthetic," his words, not mine. We argued about the thermostat. We argued about whose turn it was to deal with the dry cleaning. We argued, once, for a full twenty minutes, about whether pineapple belonged on pizza, an argument Jay won not through logic but through the sheer, relentless force of ordering one anyway and watching me eat three slices while insisting I hated it.
It didn't feel like an arrangement most days. It felt, terrifyingly, like something closer to a life.
I still wasn't ready to call it that. Not yet.
…
My mother had opinions about wedding dresses the way my father had opinions about shipping contracts… extensive, firm, delivered with total confidence regardless of whether anyone had asked. I stood on a small pedestal in a boutique that smelled like tea and money while a worker pinned fabric at my hips and my mother circled me like she was appraising livestock.
"This one," she declared, for the third dress in a row. "No… wait. The last one. Definitely the last one."
"You said that about the first one too."
"I have many opinions ." She adjusted a stray pin. "You seem distracted, darling. Everything alright with Jay?"
I hesitated a beat too long, and my mother, who missed almost nothing when it came to my moods, caught it instantly.
"Everything's fine," I said. "It's just… a lot. All of it happening so fast."
"You've been happier since Lake Como," she said gently, not unkindly, folding a swatch of lace over her arm. "Whatever's between the two of you, real or not, I've watched you smile at your phone more in the last two months than you did in the entire two years you dated that awful man from the shipping conference."
"His name was Nick, and he wasn't awful, he was just—"
"He once corrected your grammar during your own birthday toast. He was awful." My mother fixed me with a look I recognized from childhood, the one that meant she already knew the answer and simply wanted me to say it out loud. "I know this didn't start the way either of you wanted. But I've been married to your father for thirty one years, and I promise you, some of the best marriages start as arrangements. It's not how it begins that matters. It's what you both decide to make of it."
I didn't have an answer for that, not one I trusted myself to say without my voice cracking, so I just let the worker finish pinning the dress and hoped my mother would mistake the shine in my eyes for exhaustion instead of what it actually was.
CHAPTER 6: BACK TO THE SCENE OF THE CRIME
Six weeks before the wedding, the Park-Song merger required one final round of negotiations … in person, in Lake Como, with the same Italian business I'd first met with the night I'd met Jay. My father, delighted by what he assumed was budding chemistry between his daughter and her fiancé, insisted we both attend together.
"Absolutely not," I said, the second I found out.
"It's one trip," Jay said, entirely too pleased with himself, lounging in the penthouse's kitchen doorway with his arms crossed. "Besides, you love it there. You told me so yourself. Very memorably, actually."
"I will end you."
"Promises, promises."
…
The flight over was, against my best efforts, almost pleasant… Jay stole my armrest for the entire eleven hours and somehow made it feel less like an act of war and more like an invitation, and by the time we landed I'd watched two mediocre romantic comedies with him, argued about which one was worse, and split a truly ill advised amount of the airline's complimentary chocolate.
The negotiations themselves ran two full days, and I found myself, for the first time since this entire arrangement began, genuinely impressed by him… not by the practiced charm he displayed at dinner parties, but by the sharp, unglamorous capability he brought to a boardroom. He caught a clause in the shipping contract that would've cost both companies millions if it had gone unnoticed, argued the business's lead counsel into a corner without ever raising his voice, and did it all with the same easy confidence he'd used to talk me into a second drink the very first night I met him.
"You're staring," he murmured, leaning close under the act of reviewing a document, during a break in the second day's session.
"I'm reviewing your work," I said. "It's a legitimate business function."
"Sure it is." His mouth twitched. "For what it's worth, you're better at this than half the men in this room. Your father should let you run point on these negotiations instead of just sitting in on them."
I blinked, thrown by the sincerity of it, the total absence of teasing. "That's—" I fumbled for a second, "…actually a genuinely nice thing to say."
"Don't get used to it," he said, already back to his usual smirk, though something warmer lingered behind it that neither of us acknowledged out loud.
…
With the negotiations wrapped early that afternoon, we found ourselves with a rare, unscheduled block of hours before the celebratory dinner… no meetings, no families, no reason to be anywhere but exactly where we wanted to be. Jay suggested, with the particular casualness of a man trying very hard not to sound like he cared about the answer, that we take the hotel boat out onto the lake.
"That sounds suspiciously romantic for a business trip," I said.
"It's efficient sightseeing," he said. "You've been to Lake Como twice now and seen nothing but hotel lobbies and a boardroom. That's practically criminal."
I went. The lake in the afternoon light was almost romantic in its beauty… pastel villages stacked along the hills, the water so clear I could see straight through to the rocks below, mountains still capped faintly with snow despite the season. Jay, it turned out, was a genuinely terrible boat driver, and I spent a solid twenty minutes laughing at him trying to dock at a small café along the shore, nearly clipping a much nicer boat belonging to a very unimpressed elderly Italian man.
"In my defense," Jay said, mortified, as we both scrambled onto the dock, "boats are unreasonable vehicles."
"You almost took out a man's entire summer."
"He'll live." He handed me out of the boat with more grace than his docking had suggested he possessed, and didn't let go of my hand once I was steady on solid ground. Neither of us commented on it. Neither of us let go, either.
We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering a village whose name I never quite caught, eating gelato that Jay insisted, with total confidence and zero evidence, was "objectively the best in Italy," and browsing a tiny shop that sold hand painted ceramics, where Jay bought a small blue bowl for no reason he'd admit to and I caught him, later, packing it carefully into his suitcase like it mattered.
"For the penthouse," he said, when he caught me watching. "Somewhere in that place we could use a little color that isn't gray and glass."
"That sounds suspiciously like nesting, Jay."
"It's interior design. Don't read into it." He absolutely wanted me to read into it. I absolutely did.
By the time the sun started dipping toward the hills, gold spilling across the water in a way that made the whole afternoon feel like something out of a memory I hadn't made yet, I'd stopped keeping track of how many times he'd made me laugh, or how many times I'd caught myself wishing this particular afternoon didn't have to end.
That night, with the contracts finally settled and one more signing ceremony scheduled for the following week, the business's lead partner insisted on a celebratory dinner… the same terrace, coincidentally or not, where I'd first found Jay leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand and a comment about my overthinking. I wore red. He noticed. He didn't bother pretending he hadn't.
"This feels like déjà vu," I said, watching the same lake catch the same moonlight it had the night we first met, a lifetime ago, back when I still thought I'd never see this man again.
"Good déjà vu or bad déjà vu?" he asked.
"Ask me tomorrow," I said, though we both already suspected we knew the answer.
The hotel… a different one this time, a relief, at least, though not by much… had, thanks to some administrative mix up that I was fairly certain Jay had personally engineered, booked the two of us into a single suite. One suite. One bed.
I stood in the doorway, staring at it, then at Jay, who was already unbuttoning his cuffs like this was the most natural thing in the world.
"No," I said.
"There's a couch," he said, gesturing vaguely at a chaise longue that was approximately five feet long and shaped like a crescent moon, entirely unsuited to the human spine.
"You take the couch."
"I'm six foot."
"That sounds like a you problem."
He grinned, infuriatingly. "We've shared a bed before. I don't remember you complaining."
Heat crawled up my neck, fast and unwelcome. "That was different."
"How, exactly?"
"That was one night with a stranger. This is—" I gestured helplessly between the two of us, "…this. Whatever this is."
"Fiancés," he supplied, far too casually, sitting on the edge of the bed like he already owned it, which, technically, given his family's stake in the hotel chain, he might have. "That's the word you're looking for."
"I know what the word is, Jay."
"Then use it. Might make the whole thing easier." Something flickered behind his eyes when he said it… not quite a challenge, not quite something softer. I didn't examine it too closely.
I ended up sharing the bed. I told myself it was purely logistical… a strict, enforced border down the middle of the mattress, a wall of decorative pillows stacked between us like the Berlin Wall reincarnated as home decor. Jay found the entire arrangement hilarious and said so, repeatedly, until I threatened to relocate him to the crescent-moon couch by force.
I woke up at 3 a.m. tangled against his chest, his arm slung over my waist exactly the way it had been the first time, in a different hotel, a different life, and I lay there in the dark for a long, unbearable minute, listening to him breathe, hating how much it felt like coming home.
I didn't move. Not right away.
When I finally did, careful, silent, he caught my wrist in the dark.
"Stay," he said, voice thick with sleep, and there was none of the usual bite in it. Just something quiet. Something real.
I stayed. I told myself, the next morning, that it hadn't meant anything. Neither of us brought it up again.
CHAPTER 7: JEALOUSY… WAS IT?
The closing gala for the merger was held on the terrace of the same hotel where the Italian business had first courted my father's business, string lights, a jazz trio, champagne that flowed like the lake itself had been bottled and served. I wore navy. Jay wore black. We'd agreed, wordlessly, over breakfast, to be civil for the cameras, which had somehow, without either of us fully noticing, evolved into being civil in general.
For the first hour, it was almost easy. Jay kept a hand at the small of my back as he introduced me to a rotating different executives and their spouses, and I found myself falling into an easy rhythm with him… finishing his sentences when he got bored of a conversation, catching his eye across the terrace when someone said something particularly absurd, sharing the kind of silent, private laughter that made me forget, for whole stretches of time, that any of this had started as a contract instead of a courtship. My father caught the two of us mid laugh at one point and looked, for a moment, so un-embarrassingly pleased with himself that I almost forgave him for the entire arrangement on the spot.
"You're enjoying yourself," Jay murmured, refilling my glass. "Careful. Someone might think you actually like me."
"Don't get used to it," I said, echoing his own line back at him, and he grinned like I'd handed him a gift.
That lasted exactly until Karina Yu showed up.
Karina was the business's newest assistant, stunning, sharp tongued, and, I gathered within about four minutes of watching her operate, extremely aware of exactly how good she looked with her hand resting on Jay's forearm while she laughed at something he'd said. I told myself I didn't care. I told myself this several times, with increasing insincerity, while I held a glass of champagne on the other side of the terrace and watched Jay throw his head back and laugh… an actual laugh, not the polished business one… at whatever Karina had just said.
So when Yeonjun Choi, a family friend from Singapore who happened to also be at the gala for reasons that felt suspiciously well timed, walked up beside me with two fresh glasses of champagne and an easy smile, I let myself lean into it. Just a little. Just enough.
"You look like you could use better company," Yeonjun said.
"You have no idea," I said, and let him make me laugh… genuinely, loudly, at a joke that wasn't even that funny… specifically angled so it would carry across the terrace.
I felt it the second Jay noticed. The air seemed to change temperature. I didn't dare look over, but I could feel the exact moment his attention snapped away from Karina Yu and landed, heavy and distinctively, on me and Yeonjun and the two inches of space between our shoulders that Yeonjun had very deliberately closed.
Ten minutes later, Jay's hand found the small of my back.
"Having fun?" he asked, voice pleasant, smile fixed, eyes doing absolutely none of the smiling.
"Loads," I said sweetly. "Yeonjun was just telling me about his new venture. Weren't you, Yeonjun?"
"I was," Yeonjun said, entirely oblivious to the fact that he had just become a casualty in a war he didn't know was being fought. "Actually, I was going to ask if you'd want to—"
"She'd love to," Jay cut in smoothly, "catch up with you later. Right now I need to steal my fiancée for a dance."
He didn't wait for my answer. His hand slid from my back to my waist, and he was already pulling me toward the small cleared space where a few other couples swayed under the lights, and I went, because making a scene in front of half of Lake Como's business elite was not on my evening's agenda.
"That was rude," I said, once we were close enough that only he could hear.
"That was necessary."
"He was being friendly."
"He was flirting with you." Jay's jaw was tight, his hand at my waist gripping just a little too firmly to be casual. "In front of me. At our engagement gala."
"And you were doing what, exactly, with Karina Yu for the last half hour? Discussing shipping tariffs?"
"That's different."
"How is that different?"
"Because I wasn't trying to make you jealous," he said, and then, a beat too late, the muscle in his jaw ticking, "Were you? Trying to make me jealous?"
I didn't answer. Which was, in itself, an answer, and we both knew it.
"You were," he said, something dark and satisfied slipping into his voice even through the anger. "You wanted me to see that."
"Don't flatter yourself."
"I'm not flattering myself. I'm reading the room. And the room says you didn't like watching me talk to another woman any more than I liked watching you flirt with Yeonjun Choi's Rolex collection."
"I don't care who you talk to."
"Liar," he said, low, and pulled me a fraction closer, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him through two layers of expensive fabric. "You've been glaring at Karina Yu's dress since she walked in."
"It's a hideous dress."
"It's a Valentino."
"It's a hideous Valentino."
Something in his expression cracked then… not quite a smile, something rawer than that, something that looked almost like relief that I was finally, finally saying something true. The song ended. Neither of us stepped back.
"We're going back to the hotel," Jay said. It wasn't a question.
I didn't argue.
CHAPTER 8: CRASH… HEHE
The elevator ride back to the penthouse floor was silent in the way that meant it wasn't silent at all… every inch of space between us charged, both of us staring straight ahead at the doors like the reflection there might explain what exactly we were doing.
The second the door clicked shut behind us, it all came out at once.
"You embarrassed me out there," I said, rounding on him, heels forgotten by the door, adrenaline and champagne and something far more dangerous humming under my skin. "Pulling me away like I'm a possession you needed to reclaim—"
"I embarrassed you?" Jay's jacket was already off, tossed over the back of a chair, tie loosened like he couldn't get it off fast enough. "You spent an hour hanging off Yeonjun Choi's arm—"
"I did not hang off his arm—"
"…laughing at everything he said like it was the funniest thing you'd ever heard—"
"Because it's more fun than watching you and Karina Yu practically undress each other with your eyes across the terrace!"
"There it is." He turned to face me fully, and the look on his face wasn't the charming, lazy amusement I'd grown used to… it was something sharper, hungrier, months of banter and almost truths finally boiling over into something neither of us could pretend was just anger anymore. "That's what this is about. You don't get to be jealous of me, sweetheart. Not after Lake Como. Not after you left me a note like I was room service."
"I'm not jealous."
"You're jealous." He took a step closer. I didn't step back. "You've been jealous since the second she put her hand on my arm, and you know what? So was I. Watching Yeonjun Choi look at you like that. Like he had any right to."
"Maybe he does," I said, breathless, reckless, the words leaving my mouth before my brain could stop them. "Maybe I'm tired of being handed off to a man who's spent the last two months trying to make me pay for one night I don't even regret."
Something in his face went dangerously still. "You don't regret it."
"No," I said. "I don't. And that terrifies me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
The distance between us disappeared.
In a crash of mouths and hands. Jay’s kiss wasn’t gentle… it was a claim, teeth clashing, tongue demanding entry as he backed me against the nearest wall with enough force that a framed picture rattled. I bit his lower lip hard enough to taste the faint metallic tang of blood, and he growled into my mouth, the sound vibrating straight down to my core.
“You think I don’t know what you were doing?” he rasped, one large hand fisting in my hair and yanking my head back so he could bite down the side of my throat. “Parading Yeonjun in front of me like I wouldn’t lose my fucking mind?”
“I wasn’t—” My words cut off in a gasp as he sucked hard on my pulse point, hard enough to leave a mark I’d have to hide tomorrow.
“Bullshit.” His other hand shoved the hem of my navy dress up roughly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of my thigh. “You wanted me jealous. Mission accomplished, baby.”
He spun me around suddenly, pressing my front to the cool wall, his chest hot and solid against my back. The zipper of my dress gave way under impatient hands, the fabric pooling at my feet in a whisper of expensive silk. I was left in nothing but lace panties and heels. Jay’s palm slapped against my ass… sharp, possessive, before he kneaded the sting away.
“Mine,” he snarled against my ear, teeth grazing the shell. “Say it.”
“Fuck you,” I shot back, even as I pushed my hips back against the hard line of his cock straining through his trousers.
He laughed, low and dangerous. “That’s the plan.”
He dropped to his knees behind me without warning, yanking my panties down my legs and tossing them aside. Strong hands spread my cheeks, and then his mouth was on me… hot, wet, relentless. His tongue dragged from my clit all the way up, circling the tight ring of my ass before diving back down to lap at my dripping pussy. I cried out, forehead pressed to the wall, fingers scrabbling for purchase.
“Jay—fuck—”
He ate me like a man starved, like he could erase every second I’d spent smiling at Yeonjun by devouring me instead. Long, broad licks that made my thighs shake, then tight, focused suction on my clit while two thick fingers plunged inside me, curling viciously against that spot that made stars burst behind my eyes. The wet, obscene sounds filled the room… his groans vibrating against my folds, my own broken moans echoing off marble.
“You taste so fucking good when you’re jealous,” he muttered, pulling back just enough to speak before spitting on my pussy and diving back in. A third finger joined the first two, stretching me open as his tongue flicked rapidly over my clit. “Gonna make this pretty cunt remember who it belongs to.”
I came hard, suddenly, thighs clamping around his head as my walls pulsed around his fingers. He didn’t stop… kept licking me through it, gentler then rougher again, until I was whimpering and trying to twist away from the overstimulation.
He stood, spinning me to face him. His mouth was shiny with my arousal, eyes dark with lust and something fiercer. He kissed me again, letting me taste myself on his tongue while he stripped off his shirt and trousers. His cock sprang free… thick, heavy, already leaking at the tip. I reached for it, but he caught my wrist.
“Not yet.” He lifted me effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me to the massive bed. He dropped me onto it and followed immediately, crawling over me like a predator.
His mouth latched onto one nipple, sucking hard while his hand pinched and rolled the other. I arched into him, nails raking down his back hard enough to leave marks. He hissed in pleasure, grinding his cock against my thigh.
“These tits,” he groaned, switching sides, biting down gently before soothing with his tongue. “Been thinking about them all night while that asshole flirted with you.”
He worked his way down my body with single minded focus… kissing, licking, biting every inch of skin he could reach. Over my ribs, across my stomach, dipping into my navel, then lower. He settled between my thighs again, pushing them wide apart until I was completely exposed.
“Look at this greedy little pussy,” he murmured, spreading my folds with his thumbs. “Still dripping for me even after you came on my tongue.” He leaned in and licked a slow stripe up my slit, eyes locked on mine. “Tell me you don’t want anyone else tasting this.”
“I don’t,” I gasped, hips bucking. “Just you—fuck, Jay—”
He rewarded me by sucking my clit into his mouth while two fingers pumped steadily inside me. The pressure built again, fast and overwhelming. He added a third finger, scissoring them, stretching me as his tongue worked magic. When I was right on the edge, he pulled back, ignoring my whine of protest.
“Not yet. You don’t come again until I say so.”
He moved up my body and straddled my chest, knees on either side of my shoulders. His heavy cock bobbed in front of my face, glistening. He tapped the head against my lips.
“Open.”
I did, eagerly. He pushed in slowly at first, letting me swirl my tongue around the head, tasting the precum. Then he gripped my hair and thrust deeper, fucking my mouth with controlled rolls of his hips.
“Fuck, your mouth y/n…always so perfect.” He groaned as I hollowed my cheeks and took him deeper, relaxing my throat. “Suck it like you mean it, sweetheart. Show me how sorry you are for teasing me tonight.”
I hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense. Saliva dripped down my chin as he used my mouth, not rough enough to choke but deep enough that my eyes watered. I loved it… the weight of him on my tongue, the way his abs flexed above me, the filthy praises falling from his lips.
He pulled out suddenly, breathing hard, and flipped me onto my stomach. He hauled my hips up so I was on my knees, ass in the air, face pressed into the sheets.
“Gonna fuck you so deep you forget Yeonjun’s name,” he growled, lining himself up and slamming in with one brutal thrust.
I screamed into the mattress, the stretch bordering on too much after his fingers. He didn’t give me time to adjust… just pulled back and drove in again, setting a punishing rhythm. Skin slapped against skin, his balls hitting my clit with every thrust. One hand fisted my hair, the other gripped my hip hard enough to bruise.
“Whose pussy is this?” he demanded, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot.
“Yours—fuck—yours, Jay!”
“That’s right.” He reached around to rub my clit in tight, fast circles. “Come on my cock like a good girl. Let me feel you.”
The orgasm ripped through me, walls clenching around his thick length as I shook and moaned. He rode me through it, thrusts growing erratic, then pulled out and flipped me onto my back again.
He buried his face between my thighs once more, licking up every drop of my release with long, hungry strokes. “Can’t get enough of this taste,” he muttered against my folds. “Could eat you for hours.”
I was oversensitive, trembling, but he didn’t stop until I was whimpering and pushing at his head. Only then did he crawl up and kiss me deeply, sharing my flavor.
“On top,” he ordered, lying back and pulling me over him. “Ride me. Show me how much you need my cock.”
I straddled him, sinking down slowly, savoring the way he filled me completely. His hands gripped my ass, guiding me as I started to move… rolling my hips, grinding down so my clit rubbed against his pelvis with every motion.
“Fuck, look at you,” he groaned, eyes hooded as he watched his cock disappear inside me. “So fucking beautiful taking every inch.”
He sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around me, mouth latching onto my breasts again as I rode him harder. I threaded my fingers through his hair, tugging as I bounced on his cock. He met me thrust for thrust, one hand sliding between us to rub my clit.
The angle was devastating. I came again, clenching around him, and he flipped us so he was on top once more, pounding into me through the aftershocks.
He pulled out and moved down my body again, this time pushing my thighs up toward my chest, folding me in half. His tongue attacked my pussy and ass with renewed passion… licking, sucking, probing, while two fingers fucked into me and his thumb pressed against my clit. I was a mess of sobs and pleas, overstimulated and desperate for more.
“Please—Jay—I need you inside me again—”
He rose up and slammed back into me in one smooth motion, the new position letting him hit impossibly deep. His hand wrapped around my throat… not squeezing hard, just holding me there, possessive.
“Mine,” he repeated with every thrust. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to make you come like this.”
I clawed at his back, legs locked around his waist as another orgasm built. He leaned down, biting my shoulder, then soothing it with his tongue. His pace became brutal, hips snapping against mine, sweat slick skin sliding together.
“Come with me,” he growled. “Now.”
We shattered together. He buried himself to the hilt, pulsing deep inside me as my walls milked him through wave after wave of pleasure. His groan of my name… raw, broken, sent fresh aftershocks through me.
"Oh gosh—y/n fuck!"
We stayed locked together for long moments, breathing hard. Then he pulled out slowly, watching his cum drip from my pussy with dark satisfaction. He gathered some on his fingers and brought them to my lips. I sucked them clean without hesitation.
But he wasn’t done.
He slid down my body again, gentle this time, and began licking me clea… soft, deep strokes of his tongue that had me twitching and sighing. He paid attention to every sensitive inch, my clit, my entrance, even pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs where faint marks from his grip were already forming.
When he finally moved back up, he pulled me into his arms, my head on his chest. His hand stroked down my back in long, soothing lines.
“I hated seeing you with him,” he admitted quietly, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something vulnerable. “Even knowing it was just to piss me off.”
“I hated seeing her touch you,” I whispered back, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.
He tilted my chin up and kissed me… slow, deep, thorough. “No more games like that.”
“No more,” I agreed.
But even as we lay tangled together, bodies sated and hearts still racing, I knew the fire between us was far from extinguished. If anything, the jealousy had only stoked it higher.
He rolled us so I was beneath him again, already hardening against my thigh.
“Round two?” he murmured, lips brushing mine.
I smiled, wicked and wanting. “Make me forget every other name but yours.”
And he did… thoroughly, roughly, with his mouth and hands and cock worshipping every inch of me until the sky outside began to lighten and all that remained was the two of us, breathless and undeniably bound.
…
He lay awake long after I'd fallen asleep against his chest, staring at the ceiling of a hotel room in the one city on earth that seemed determined to keep rewriting the terms of his life without asking his permission first.
He'd meant what he said, in the heat of the argument, about making me pay for Lake Como… he'd meant it that first dinner, watching me go pale across the table as I recognized him, some petty, wounded part of him lighting up at the thought of finally getting to watch me squirm the way he'd squirmed reading that note. He'd built an entire plan around it, in the weeks after the engagement was announced. Charm her. Get close. Make her want him the way she'd wanted him in Lake Como, and then, at the last possible second, be the one who walked away first.
It hadn't survived the second week. It hadn't survived me falling asleep on his shoulder during a boring merger briefing, or the ridiculous, genuine way I argued about pineapple pizza like my life depended on it, or the morning I'd stayed in his bed instead of running, hand in his under the sheets, no note, no euros, no goodbye.
He looked down at me now, curled against him, and felt something settle in his chest that had nothing to do with revenge at all.
So much for making her pay, he thought, and pressed a kiss to the top of my head, careful not to wake me. Guess the joke's on me.
CHAPTER 9: THE MORNING AFTER THE MORNING AFTER
I woke up tangled in sheets that smelled like him, sunlight cutting gold across the same kind of luxury bed I'd woken up in months ago in a different hotel, in a different life, except this time there was no flight to catch, no note to write, no reason at all to leave.
Jay was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching me with an expression I didn't have a name for… something quieter than the smugness I'd come to expect, something that looked almost unguarded.
"No note this time?" he asked, but there was no real bite in it. Just a question, testing the ground.
"No note," I said. "I'm still here."
"You are." He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and the gentleness of it undid me more than anything he'd said in the heat of the night before. "I keep waiting for you to run."
"I keep waiting for you to actually let me stay," I said, quieter than I meant to. "You've spent two months telling me you were going to make me pay for Lake Como."
"I know." His jaw tightened, something like guilt flickering across his face. "I meant it, at first. I wanted to. You made me feel like—" he stopped, exhaled, started again. "You made me feel like something I wasn't used to feeling, and then you left like it didn't matter, and I didn't know what to do with that except be angry about it."
"And now?"
"Now I don't know what I'm angrier about," he admitted. "That you left. Or how much I don't want you to leave again."
"For what it's worth," I said, tracing an absent pattern against his chest, "I thought about you. After Lake Como. More than I wanted to. I told myself it was because you were a mystery I hadn't solved. Turns out it was just because I liked you, and I didn't know what to do with that, either."
"You could've texted."
"I didn't have your number. That was rather the design flaw in my whole escape plan."
He huffed a laugh, low and real, pressing it into my hair. "I looked you up, you know. After the note. Took me two days and an embarrassing amount of Google searches involving 'Singaporean businesswoman' and 'Lake Como' before I gave up entirely."
"You didn't."
"I absolutely did. My assistant thought I'd lost my mind." He tipped my chin up with two fingers, the same gesture from the engagement photoshoot, except there was no camera now, no performance, just the two of us and the quiet. "Turns out I didn't need Google. I just needed my father to have terrible timing and worse business instincts."
"Remind me to thank him," I murmured, "right after I finish being furious at him."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I didn't say anything. I just reached for his hand under the sheets and let the silence be its own answer, and for one suspended, golden morning, it was almost enough to believe none of the rest of it… the merger, the arrangement, the families watching my every move like a stock ticker… mattered at all.
It wouldn't last. It never did, not for people like me.
…
I called Minji the second I landed back in Singapore, because if I didn't say any of this out loud to someone, I was fairly certain my own head was going to implode from the sheer volume of unprocessed feelings rattling around inside it.
"So," Minji said, the second she picked up, "you disappear on a stranger in Lake Como, said stranger turns out to be your arranged fiancé, and now you're calling me at nine in the morning sounding like you just ran a marathon. Catch me up."
"I think I like him," I said, miserable. "For real. Not in the fake engagement, keep up appearances way. In the actual, terrifying, can't-stop-thinking-about-him way."
There was a pause on the other end, and then Minji, ever helpful, burst out laughing. "You're just now figuring this out? I could've told you that the second you texted me a full paragraph about the way he tied his tie badly on purpose."
"That's not… that was an observation, not a—"
"It was absolutely a symptom." I could hear Minji grinning through the phone. "So what's the problem? You like him, presumably he likes you, considering the man rearranged an entire hotel's booking system to get you both in one bed—"
"The problem," I said, "is that this whole thing started because our fathers wanted a shipping contract. What if none of this is real? What if I fall for him for real and it turns out I'm just… convenient? The easiest option? The daughter who happened to be in the right hotel room at the right time?"
"Do you actually believe that," Minji asked, gentler now, "or are you just scared?"
I didn't answer right away, because I didn't have a good one. "Both, maybe."
"For what it's worth," Minji said, "I watched that man's face when you walked into that gala in navy. He did not look like a guy fulfilling a business obligation. He looked like a guy who forgot how to use words." A beat. "Stop trying to find the exit before you even know if you want one. That's the same thing you did in Lake Como the first time, and look how well that turned out."
I hung up feeling more unsettled than before I'd called, which I supposed was the entire point of calling Minji in the first place.
CHAPTER 10: THE FIGHT THAT ACTUALLY MATTERED…
The trouble with almost truths is that they don't survive daylight for long, and by the time Jay and I were both back in Singapore, back in the penthouse, back under the weight of two families and a merger worth more than either of our lives combined, the softness of Lake Como had curdled, slowly, into something more complicated.
It wasn't any one thing at first. It was the wedding planning eating into every spare hour of both our schedules, endless calls with caterers and venue coordinators and a florist who seemed personally offended by every choice I made. It was Jay's schedule filling up with calls from the conglomerate's Singapore office as the merger moved into its implementation phase, calls that ran later and later into the evening. It was the two of us, still learning how to be honest about wanting each other without immediately following it with a joke to soften the admission, slowly running out of jokes to hide behind and not yet having anything solid to replace them with.
It started, as these things always did, over something small. A dinner Jay canceled at the last minute for a call with Karina Yu's firm… purely business, he swore, and I believed him, mostly, except believing him didn't stop the old, ugly voice in my head from whispering that I was, at the end of the day, a business arrangement he could deprioritize whenever something more important came along.
"You could have told me sooner," I said, standing in the kitchen while he shrugged his jacket back on for the second time that night.
"I told you the second I knew."
"You told me twenty minutes before we were supposed to leave, Jay."
"It's work. This merger doesn't run itself just because we had a nice morning in Lake Como."
The words landed harder than he probably meant them to. A nice morning. Like that was all it had been. Like I hadn't spent the last week turning it over in my head, wondering if it meant what I desperately, quietly hoped it meant.
"Right," I said, voice gone flat. "Of course. Wouldn't want the merger to suffer because you spent an evening with your fiancée."
"That's not what I—"
"It's fine." It wasn't fine. We both knew it wasn't fine. "Go to your call."
He didn't go, not right away. He stood there in the kitchen doorway, jacket half on, looking at me like he wanted to say something and couldn't find the shape of it. "I'm scared," he finally said, so quietly I almost missed it. "Of how much I want this to be real. And every time I get close to saying that out loud, I remember it started because our fathers wanted a shipping contract, and I don't know how to trust that any of this is actually about us."
The anger drained out of me at once, replaced by something far more exposed. "I'm scared of the exact same thing," I admitted. "That's why I left Lake Como the first time. Not because of you. Because of how much I already didn't want to."
He crossed the kitchen in three steps and kissed me like he was trying to prove something to both of us at once, and when he pulled back, forehead resting against mine, he said, "Cancel your evening. I'll cancel the call. Let's just… figure this out. Together. No merger. No fathers. Just us."
We canceled the call together. Neither of us brought up Karina or Yeonjun again.
…
It didn't stay easy. I hadn't expected it to… nothing about the two of us had ever been easy, not from the very first night in a bar with too much rum in the drinks… but the fight that came three weeks later still managed to knock the wind out of me in a way none of the others had.
It was over something stupid, in looking into the past. Jay had made a decision about the wedding venue without consulting me… a favor to both fathers, he said, a way to smooth over a disagreement about vendor contracts that had nothing to do with either of us and everything to do with two companies trying to look good in front of shareholders. I'd found out from my mother, not from him, and something about hearing it secondhand had cracked open every insecurity I'd been quietly protecting since the day this arrangement started.
"You didn't think to ask me," I said, voice tight, "because at the end of the day, this is still a business decision to you. I'm still a line item."
"That's not fair."
"Isn't it? You made a decision about my wedding to smooth over a contract dispute, Jay. Tell me how that's not exactly what I was afraid of from the beginning."
"I did it because I was trying to protect you from getting dragged into another negotiation," he snapped, temper flaring to match mine. "I didn't think you'd rather sit through another four-hour meeting about seating charts and vendor exclusivity clauses just to prove a point."
"I'd rather you asked me. That's it. That's the whole point. You don't get to decide what I can handle."
"Maybe I overstepped." His voice cracked, just slightly, on the word. "But don't stand there and tell me this is still just business to me, because I have spent the last four months falling in love with a woman I met in a bar and then spent every day since terrified she was going to wake up one morning and leave another note."
The room went very quiet.
"That's not fair either," I said, softer now, the fight draining out of me as fast as it had risen. "Using that against me."
"I'm not using it against you. I'm telling you the truth, because I'm so far past pretending this is manageable that I don't know what else to do except be honest and hope it doesn't scare you off." He dragged a hand through his hair, the picture of a man who had clearly rehearsed a calmer version of this speech and abandoned it entirely under pressure. "I love you. I've loved you probably since the hotel room I woke up alone in. And I am so sick of both of us treating that like a liability instead of just… saying it."
I stood there, heart hammering, every practiced defense I'd built over the last four months suddenly useless in my hands. "You've never said that before."
"I'm saying it now." He looked, for the first time since I'd met him, genuinely unguarded… no charm, no smugness, nothing performative left in him at all. "I love you. And if you walk out that door right now, I'm not going to chase you, because I'm done being someone you run from. But I'd really, really rather you stayed."
I didn't walk out the door.
I crossed the room instead, and kissed him, and neither of us brought up seating charts again for the rest of the night.
…
Two days later, I came home to find the penthouse dark except for a trail of candles leading from the front door to the balcony, which was, I thought, either the most romantic thing Jay had ever attempted or a genuine fire hazard, possibly both.
"If you set off the smoke alarm," I called out, toeing off my heels, "I will never let you live it down."
"Just come outside," his voice floated back, suspiciously nervous for a man who negotiated multi-million-dollar contracts for a living without breaking a sweat.
I found him on the balcony in the same suit he'd worn the night of the engagement announcement, the harbor spread out gold and glittering behind him, and something in his posture… hands shoved in his pockets, weight shifting like he couldn't decide where to put himself… made my chest go tight before he'd said a single word.
"We're already engaged," I said slowly, eyeing the candles, the suit, the unmistakable set dressing of a moment he'd clearly planned. "This is either extremely romantic or you're about to tell me something has gone horribly wrong with the merger."
"Neither." He huffed a laugh, more nerves than humor in it, and pulled a small velvet box from his pocket… not the ring our families had already selected together for the official engagement, the one that had been photographed and press released and worn on my hand for months now, but a different one entirely, simpler, clearly chosen by him and no one else. "The first ring was picked by a committee. Our fathers, a jeweler, a PR team who wanted something 'photogenic for the press release.' I didn't get a say in it, and I don't think you did either. This one, I picked myself."
I stared at him, throat suddenly too tight to speak.
"I know we're already getting married," he continued, dropping to one knee anyway, the picture of a man determined to do this properly no matter how backwards the order of operations had gotten. "I know the contracts are signed and the venue's booked and my father's already started planning the honeymoon like it's his own. But none of that was ever really us choosing this. So I wanted to ask you myself. Not because a merger needs it. Because I do." He opened the box… a simple band, understated, nothing like the statement piece on my hand already. "Will you Marry me, y/n? For real this time. Not because of Lake Como, or the contract, or the note, or any of the reasons this started. Just because I love you, and I'd choose you even if none of the rest of it had ever happened."
"You're an idiot," I said, laughing and crying at once, dropping to my knees on the balcony floor to be level with him because I couldn't stand to have him below me for this. "You already had me. You've had me since the boat, or the pizza argument, or possibly since the very first night, I genuinely can't tell anymore."
"Is that a yes?"
"That's a yes." I kissed him before he could say anything else insufferably charming, and somewhere behind me, entirely unnoticed until this exact moment, I registered that he'd set up a small speaker quietly playing something slow and warm, the kind of song that made the whole ridiculous, candlelit, slightly hazardous scene feel like something out of a life I never would have predicted for myself a year ago and wouldn't trade now for anything.
"For the record," Jay said, sliding the second ring onto my finger beside the first, "I'm keeping both rings on you. One for the contract our fathers wanted. One for the choice we actually made."
"Sentimental," I accused.
"Only for you," he said, and meant it.
CHAPTER 11: FULL CIRCLE
The final signing ceremony for the merger was scheduled, fittingly, for Lake Como… the same business, the same lake, the same string light terraces where this entire impossible chain of events had started. My father called it poetic. I called it the universe having an extremely specific sense of humor.
This time, there was no confusion about the hotel booking. Jay booked the suite himself, one bed, no crescent moon couch in sight, and when I raised an eyebrow at him over the reservation confirmation, he just shrugged, entirely unbothered.
"Figured we'd save everyone the trouble of pretending," he said.
The signing went smoothly… my father practically glowing with the kind of pride that came from watching two companies and two children merge into one very profitable future. Chairman Park shook my hand with real warmth, told me Jay had been, in his words, "unbearable to live with" in the weeks after Lake Como the first time, and that he was glad to see I'd apparently cured that particular ailment. I'd laughed, genuinely, and looked over to find Jay watching me with an expression that had nothing to do with business at all.
That night, after the papers were signed and the champagne toasts made and the last of the business's executives had finally, mercifully, gone home, I found myself back on the same terrace where I'd first met him… string lights, dark water, a version of myself that had walked into this exact spot months ago convinced she'd never see this man again.
"You know," Jay said, coming to stand beside me at the railing, his tie long gone, sleeves rolled to his forearms, "I used to think about what I'd say to you. If I ever saw you again. I had this whole speech planned. Very cutting. Very devastating."
"What happened to it?"
"You showed up at my dinner table three weeks later and I forgot every word of it." He turned to face me fully, and whatever careful distance he usually kept even now, even after everything, was entirely gone from his eyes. "I don't want to make you pay for Lake Como anymore. I just want Lake Como. Again. With you. For real this time… not a stranger's name, not a note on a hotel notepad. All of it. If you'll let me."
My throat tightened. "I was so sure I'd never see you again," I admitted. "I left because staying scared me more than leaving did. I didn't know how to want something that wasn't part of a plan I'd already made for my life."
"And now?"
"Now the plan includes you," I said. "Which terrifies me a little less every day."
He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and I let him pull me back toward the suite with none of the panic of that first morning, none of the urgency to run before the sun came up. This time, I wanted to stay for the sunrise.
We walked the short distance to our suite. The moment the door closed, the rest of the world fell away. Jay turned to me under the soft glow of the bedside lamps, the moonlit Lake Como sparkling beyond the windows like a painting made just for us. No rush. No games. Only the quiet weight of everything we had finally admitted.
He cupped my face with both hands and kissed me deeply… slow, soulful, like he was pouring every unsaid feeling into the press of his lips. His thumbs stroked my cheeks as his tongue gently explored my mouth, tempting soft sighs from me. I melted against him, hands sliding up his chest to loosen his tie and work open the buttons of his shirt.
“I love you,” he breathed between kisses, voice low and thick with emotion. “Not because of the merger, or our families, or Lake Como. Just you. The woman who argues with me about pineapple on pizza and rearranges my closet to drive me crazy.”
Tears pricked at my eyes as I smiled against his mouth. “I love you too. I think I have for a long time… I was just too scared to stay.”
He kissed the corner of my eye, then my temple, then the sensitive spot beneath my ear. With soft hands, he eased the zipper of my dress down my spine, following the path with his lips… pressing open mouthed kisses along my shoulders and the nape of my neck. The fabric slid to the floor in a whisper. He unclasped my bra and let it fall away, then hooked his fingers into my panties and drew them down my legs, dropping to one knee to kiss my thighs, my knees, the delicate skin just above my ankles as he helped me step out.
When I stood completely bare before him, he rose slowly, eyes dark with desire but softened by something far deeper. I finished undressing him with the same care… pushing his shirt off his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of muscle in his chest and abdomen, unbuckling his belt and sliding his trousers and boxers down until he was as bare as I was.
Jay lifted me effortlessly and laid me in the center of the large bed. He followed, covering my body with his, but keeping most of his weight on his forearms so I felt surrounded, protected, cherished. He kissed me for a long time… deep, slow kisses that left me breathless… before trailing his mouth downward.
He lavished attention on my breasts, sucking one nipple into his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers, switching sides with unhurried devotion until I was arching and whimpering. Lower still, he kissed every inch of my stomach, my hips, the tops of my thighs. Then he settled between my spread legs, spreading me open with gentle hands.
“Look at you,” he murmured, voice full of awe. “So beautiful. So mine.”
His tongue traced a slow, broad stripe from my entrance to my clit, then circled the swollen bud with patient, loving strokes. He took his time, exploring every fold, savoring my taste with soft hums of pleasure that vibrated through me. Two thick fingers eased inside me, curling gently against that perfect spot while his mouth sealed over my clit, sucking with tender rhythm. The pleasure built gradually, like a wave rolling in from far away, growing deeper and warmer until it crashed over me in a long, shuddering orgasm. I cried out his name softly, thighs trembling around his head as he licked me through every pulse, gentle and devoted.
He kissed his way back up my body, settling between my thighs. His cock… thick, heavy, and leaking at the tip… nudged against my slick entrance. Our eyes locked as he pushed in slowly, letting me feel every inch as he stretched and filled me completely. When he bottomed out, he stayed there, buried deep, forehead pressed to mine.
“Feel us,” he whispered. “This is real.”
We moved together in a slow, rocking rhythm. Long, deep strokes that dragged pleasure through every nerve ending. His hips rolled against mine in a sensual grind, hitting that spot inside me with each thrust. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck, holding him as close as physically possible. Our breaths mingled, soft moans and whispered “I love you" filling the space between kisses.
Jay slipped a hand between us, fingers finding my clit and circling it with perfect, gentle pressure. The pace stayed tender but grew more intense… deeper, more intentional thrusts as pleasure coiled tighter inside me. I came again with a broken moan, walls fluttering and clenching around him, pulling him deeper. He followed moments later, burying himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan of my name as he spilled inside me, pulsing hot and deep.
Even after, he stayed buried within me, holding me close while we caught our breath. He rolled us onto our sides, facing each other, still connected. His hand stroked down my back in long, soothing lines, fingers tracing my spine, my hips, the curve of my waist. I pressed soft kisses to his chest, his collarbone, the hollow of his throat.
“No more running,” he said quietly, tilting my chin up to kiss me again… slow and sweet.
“No more notes,” I replied, smiling against his lips. “Just us. Every morning. Every night.”
We stayed like that for a long while, trading lazy kisses and touches, bodies still joined, hearts finally in perfect sync. Eventually he pulled out gently, cleaned us both with a warm cloth from the bathroom, then pulled me back into his arms. I fell asleep with my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, the same lake outside the window that had once watched me slip away now witnessing me stay… willingly, completely, forever.
The universe had brought us full circle. This time, we were exactly where we belonged.
CHAPTER 12: THE HILLS, REPRISE
Minji threw me a bachelorette dinner two nights before the wedding… small, just a handful of close friends on a rooftop bar overlooking the exact stretch of harbor I could see from the penthouse, which Minji swore was a coincidence and I was fairly sure was not.
"To the world's most chaotic love story," Minji said, raising her glass. "One night stand, arranged marriage, at least one shouting match that the building's security definitely heard—"
"That happened one time—"
"… and somehow, against every possible odd, an actual, real, sickeningly cute relationship. I still can't believe you almost didn't recognize him at that dinner."
"I recognized him immediately," I admitted. "I was just praying I was wrong."
"And now?"
I looked out at the water, dark and glittering, not so different from the lake that had started all of this, and felt something settle in my chest that had taken the better part of a year to arrive. "Now I can't imagine having prayed for anything else."
Across town, in a considerably less sentimental gathering, Jay was enduring a bachelor party that mostly consisted of his closest friends ribbing him mercilessly about the note.
"Money for the minibar," one of them said, for what had to be the fortieth time that week, raising a glass in mock tribute. "A toast… to the greatest insult ever survived by a Park heir."
"I've moved past it," Jay said, entirely unconvincingly.
"You named your dog after the hotel."
"That's… unrelated."
It was not, in fact, unrelated, and everyone at the table knew it, and Jay let them have the joke because some jokes you'd earned by now, and because in two days none of it was going to matter anyway. He was going to marry the woman who'd left that note, and somewhere between the fury and the note and the year that followed, he'd stopped thinking of it as something to make her pay for and started thinking of it as the first sentence of a story he was, against every prediction he'd have made about his own life, deeply grateful to be living.
…
The Ceremony…
The wedding, when it finally came, was nothing like the dinner where it had all started… no stiff formality, no families sizing each other up across a table like it was a negotiation. Just our two families, genuinely joined this time instead of merely merged, and Jay at the end of the aisle wearing the same crooked, unguarded smile he'd worn the night he first bought me a drink with too much rum in it and told me that I looked like I was thinking too hard for someone on vacation.
"You're doing that thing again," he murmured, when I finally reached him, voice pitched for only me to hear. "Thinking too hard."
"I'm just wondering," I whispered back, "if you're going to make me regret leaving that note for the rest of our lives."
"Every single day," he said, grinning. "But mostly because it's the reason I got to fall in love with you twice."
When it came time for vows, Jay went first, and the room, which had been politely rustling with the low murmur of two hundred guests, went entirely still.
"I had a whole speech written," he admitted, pulling a folded card from his jacket pocket and then, after a beat of consideration, tucking it away again unread. "My assistant helped me write it. It had a quote from a poet I've never actually read in it, to sound sophisticated. But I think you'd know if I was reading someone else's words instead of mine, so… here's the truth instead. I met a woman in a bar who told me she was working, at eleven at night, in a bar, and I thought that was the funniest, most transparent lie I'd ever heard, and I decided right then I wanted to know everything else she wasn't telling me. It took me a lot longer than I'd like to admit to realize that the version of myself I like best is the one that exists around you… the one that argues about pizza toppings and loses fights about thermostats and gets absurdly, embarrassingly jealous over nothing. I promise to keep choosing that version of myself, and to keep choosing you, for every single day we get, starting today and not stopping for a very long time."
My own vows came out shakier than I'd rehearsed them in the mirror that morning, but I got through them anyway. "I left you a note once," I said, and heard the ripple of laughter move through the crowd, most of whom had heard some version of that story by now. "I told you it wasn't you, it was timing. I have never told a bigger lie in my entire life. It was absolutely you. You were the first person who ever made me want to stay somewhere I hadn't planned on staying, and I've spent the year since trying to figure out how to say that without sounding as terrified as I actually was. I'm not scared anymore. I choose this… I choose you… not because of a contract, or our fathers, or a shipping deal neither of us fully understood at the time, but because somewhere between a bar in Lake Como and this exact terrace, you stopped being an arrangement and started being home."
Minji, somewhere in the crowd, would later swear she heard me laugh mid vow, which was, everyone agreed, entirely on brand.
Chairman Park gave a toast at the reception that started as a speech about shipping tariffs and ended, somewhere around his third glass of champagne, in genuine tears about how he'd never seen his son smile the way he smiled around me, contract or no contract. My father, not to be outdone, stood up next and admitted… publicly, in front of two hundred guests… that he'd fully expected me to hate the arrangement forever, and that watching me dance at my own wedding like I'd chosen this myself was the best business decision he'd ever made and he intended to take full credit for it at every future shareholder meeting.
"He's never going to let this go, is he," Jay murmured against my ear, swaying with me under string lights that looked, deliberately, unmistakably, like the ones from a terrace in Lake Como.
"Never," I agreed. "You're stuck being his favorite success story for the rest of your life."
"Worse things to be stuck with," he said, and spun me once, easy and sure, the same way he had the very first night, except this time there was no mystery left between us at all… no last name withheld, no hotel notepad, no note to write in a panic before a flight. Just the two of us, exactly where we'd both, somewhere along the way, decided we wanted to be.
Later, much later, when the guests had thinned and the band had switched to something slower, Jay pulled me toward the edge of the terrace, away from the noise, and pressed his forehead to mine the way he had the night everything finally cracked open between us.
"No regrets?" he asked. "Even with everything it took to get here?"
"None," I said. "Although I do think you owe me for two months of insufferable jealousy and a color coded closet war."
"I owe you," he agreed, "for a lot more than that. I'll be paying it off for the rest of our lives. I'm looking forward to it."
…
Years later…
Somewhere over the years that followed… the arguments that still happened, because two people that stubborn were never going to stop clashing entirely, and the jealousy that occasionally flared, more playful now than desperate, and the quiet mornings that mattered more than either of us had expected an arranged marriage to ever produce… I'd think back, sometimes, to a stranger in a bar in Lake Como who told me that I looked like trouble.
He'd been right. He usually was, though I'd never admit that to his face.
There would be more trips to Lake Como over the years… anniversaries, mostly, an unspoken tradition neither of us had planned but both of us protected fiercely, the same terrace, the same string lights, a standing reservation at a hotel that still, to this day, kept a bowl of untouched fruit in every suite because Jay had once complained, half joking, that nobody ever ate it. There would be a dog, badly named, exactly as his friends had predicted. There would be, eventually, a nursery my mother had been quietly hoping for since the night of that very first engagement announcement, though that particular chapter belonged to a different story entirely.
I wouldn't have changed a single second of it. Not the note. Not the running. Not the fights, or the jealousy, or the year it took the two of us to stop being afraid of wanting something that started as an arrangement and ended up as the realest thing either of us had ever had.
Some things, it turned out, were worth staying for.
THE END
I hope you guys like this fic! I didn't get to proofread it properly, so hopefully everything makes sense! I lowkey teared up writing the end of it. I really like this storyline so I hope I delivered it well! If you have any suggestion what who or what I can write next please drop a comment!
𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader
𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated...
𝜗𝜚 CATEGORIES: non-idol!au, smau (with written pieces), fluff, crack, angst, all cast members are in college or working
𝜗𝜚 FEATURES: jay, sunghoon & sunoo (enhypen), jiyu (kiiikiii), yujin (ive), wonbin (riize), sangah (lightsum)
𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: unfunny memes, jokes about everything, hint at class divide, group chaos, slight angst, ignore timestamps and watermarks and typos, more may be added
𝜗𝜚 NOTES: first full smau yay! i'm so excited about this idea and hope you love going on this journey with me :)
↪synopsis: you develop a crush on jay the moment your eyes land on him and you immediately decide this is a problem because he's too pretty. unfortunately, chaewon tells you that he has been in a long-term relationship for years. which means your crush is doomed before it even starts. still, having a tiny harmless crush on someone unavailable has never killed anybody...right? are you doomed? yes, no, maybe?
↪ pairing: park jongseong x fem!reader | ↪ genre: university au, strangers to friends to lovers, slowburn, slight angst | ↪ type: SMAU | ↪ status: ongoing | ↪warning: slow-burn, jay is quiet and reserved, a bit of toxic friendship dynamic.
➤ COMING STRAIGHT FROM THE OVEN IS A PLATE OF HOT PUSSY .ᐟ
what happens if you’re sprawled out on your boyfriend’s bed, naked and blindfolded, turned into a complete mess as you were left alone, forced to suppress the pleasure. finally, the door clicks open; you’re relieved but he was oddly quiet. why was your “boyfriend” so good at pleasing you?
pairing ✮⋆˙ parkjongseong x fem!reader
warning ✮⋆˙ 18+, smut, mdni, dub-con!, pussy!eating, cheating (don't do this!), pussy!play, roommate'sbestfriend!jay, dom!jay, sub!reader, reader is roomie's gf, reader thinks jay is her bf
word count ✮⋆˙ 3.4K
lolli's notes ✮⋆˙ sighhh I love this man so much.....he's been bias wrecking me lately icl....i need help. NOT PROOFREAD!
the soft, timid guy who had a crush on his roommate's girlfriend. the stares that linger longer than they've should of, the moments where he noticed the small little habits you make, the way he stared at you like it was only you and him in the room and every little thing was faded into the background.
his body immediately flinch up in posture whenever he sees you, keeping himself composed around you, not realizing that his body was taut and clenched to the point where if he relaxed, he'd die of soreness.
he could get anyone he'd liked but he never did. he believed that you could only have one true love, a moment that never erases even if he tried to push it away.
he knew that this wasn't right but it was something that he couldn't brush away, although if he convinced himself he was in denial — the small part of him knows that his gut is telling him to the face the truth and accept the fact that he could only solve.
a habit he couldn't control, an urge he couldn't restrain.
jay stares at you like an angel soared through the sky and sent you as his one true love that he was destined to be with — perhaps in another lifetime.
☣︎
"hey man, i'm heading out to the store. do you want anything?" keys jingling towards the direction of the door, the sounds of shoes dragging against the carpeted floor as jay could feel the shadow moving around his peripherals.
"nah i'm good, thank you though." jay, sprawled on the couch; he doesn't take his eyes off the phone, instead, slightly tilting his head towards the direction but his eyes don't waver.
"alright, be back in a bit." the door swings open, a ray of sunshine gleams over his face for a quick second before the door swallows the light once again, leaving the room — dull and lifeless. the phone softly turns off, making him stare off into the distance. the scenery turns into nothing but a blurring background. clouding in his thoughts as time felt much slower than it was before. the living room was calm, still. the soft hum of the leaves rustling outside as the wind gushes through the air like a whisper echoing past his ears. he feels his eyes slowly losing their strength, dragging a soft pull of slumber to reel his drowsiness, getting heavier the more he tried to fight it until it fully consumed him.
resting on the cushy foam like he was wrapped into a warm hug as he sleeps perfectly still, mimicking a dead body. his chest rises and falls gently as his phone was rested on top of his body, the weight seemingly felt like it was non existent and forgotten.
☣︎
as the hour glides by like a breeze, his phone buzzed through his skin, causing him to jolt awake. eyes crusted shut, the gleam from the windowsill burns through his eyelids, making him squint as he forced himself to adjust to his vision. the heavy weight rested upon his chest swiftly slid off his chest, hitting the cushions and lands in between his legs — the clock had struck late afternoon and nothing seemed out of place. the room was still quiet as it was before; no creaks, no silhouettes trailing on the hardwood floors — it seemed like they weren't back yet.
jay rises up from the couch and heads to the bathroom but his eyes catches the door of his roommate's, cracked opened slightly with the lights faint, shadowy as the night. he strides towards the door, thinking they were here. "hey man what'd you—" he pauses mid sentence as he gently pushes the door open, only to reveal you:
fully naked on the bed; thighs gushing with your own juices while a blindfold was wrapped around your eyes with handcuffs locked tight onto your wrists as they were wrapped around the bed frame. and a tiny remote placed towards the edge located near the foot of the bed.
jay's eyes widen with terror — arousal or a feeling buried deep into his chest that couldn't be explained and he was about to leave until he hears you call out.
"b-babe?" you whimper as your thighs clench together as he hears a soft buzz, locating near you. he watches the way you bite on your bottom lip, revealing a flushed red hue that painted your lips from your arousal. "p-please it's too much!" you let out a guttural, breathy moan as jay watches your body twitches from hypersensitivity, back arching against the wrinkled sheets that spread across your body, blending with your disheveled state.
jay panics like a deer in headlights, his mouth parts but not a sound came out, only mimes his words he wanted to say but stopped himself before he could make a wrong move. he mutters a sequences of curses, face flushed with undeniable hunger, also nervousness swarming in his entire mind. his brain stops functioning as he trapped in a situation with you, unable to form words without his eyes deceiving him.
his mind was telling him to leave but his body wouldn't budge. the lump in his throat was frozen, even with how many times he tried to push it down — also with an aching boner peeking through his pants. he quietly observes you like a stalker; the way your body was perfectly pasted on the bed, your thighs instinctively clenching together has a grip on him that made him writhed with thirst as your moans erupt in the air like sweet lullabies. your juices glistening from where the buzzing sensation was stemming from, coating the inside of thighs like honey, dribbling down from your entrance, onto the bedsheets.
he strides toward you, heedful of his surroundings. he towers over your figure, encasing your body with his shadow. you could sense his presence, a breath of wind brushes against your skin. the shadow halts in place, swallowing over your body. "t-touch me please.." you bit the bottom flesh of your lips, turning pale white and glistening from the pressure.
he stands there like someone froze his feet to the ground. his eyes dart to the remote control inches away from where the bed ends, softly picking it up and silently observing the controls. caressing the button while his mind halts into a train of thoughts:
his thumbs brushes over the toggle, feeling the indents press into his skin: a plus and minus button engraved. he mindlessly increases the vibration, not knowing how strong the tremors were already. he watches the way you squirm, the way you tried to clench your thighs together even deeper, despite the feeling was too much for you to subside. your whispery breaths turned into squeals, the toy harshly tickling your gummy walls as you were started to get used to the pace.
jay feels his body jolt in pleasure, his clothes suddenly started to feel uncomfortable all over his skin. the room started feeling warm with the air suddenly became thick with tension. he places himself on the edge of the bed and leaves the remote on the bedside table, watching how your skin vibrates as the hiss of the vibrator gradually gets louder with every move he makes.
legs that were glued together, the structure of the unknown palm cups the side of your knee, carefully peeling off each other as your juices creates webs as your legs separate — losing their warmth. the sticky residue of your slick turned your skin cold as the wind brushes past you like a stream. your body flinches at the sudden contact, fingers icy while it drags along your skin. hitched moans escapes past your lips, completely sensitive to the touch. you felt the flesh of your skin turn warm as the heat of his palm presses flush against you.
jay's fingers slowly trace along the inside of your thighs, feeling the graze of his nail leaving a ticklish sensation, making your legs flinch and itching for the pleasure. your juices coat the tip of his finger, creating a stringy web connect from your skin to his.
as he cherishes your skin like glass, he was fighting the urge to take you right here on his roommate's bed but he contained himself, even when his impulses were on the verge of breaking.
jay knew that he was a patience man, composed, collected in a tense situations. never in his life, he questioned his loyalty; his commitments that he crossed his heart — "promise."
"promise." that left his lips like he knew in the back of his mind, he would never overturn the word into a betrayal. "you're the only person i know that would never betray me. you're my best friend dude." the type of feeling that makes one's face fall of guilt, watching as their features crumple into a huge smile that makes one put a mock-up even if their heart clenches in ache. those same words that left his roommates lips like he knew jay wouldn't even bare a thought of deceit and completely oblivious to jay's real feelings.
best friends know everything about each other. but do they express their true intentions? their true feelings? feeling scared of confessing the grudges we hold without feeling like the other would feel discouraged.
bottling up feelings that could possibly terminate a friendship that meant so much to one person but so little to the other.
maybe some feelings are better left unsaid.
desires that were meant to be fulfilled and never untouched.
was he ever a loyal man to begin with? or someone who was pretentious of their own morals cause they were scared to face the real truth, just to prove to himself that he was everything he portrayed himself to others even if he felt the quite the opposite.
jay knew the answer, just never had the guts to face it.
but one of his biggest fears had to get him some day and that day had to be now.
"s-stop teasing me…"you squirm under jay's touch, completely ignorant of the suspicious actions that you would've spotted a while ago but the vibrator was buzzing infinitely, too occupied to care. you hear a soft huff of the man's voice, clearly finding amusement at your desperation. yet, his soft strokes towards your skin, made you feel a flutter in your stomach. this touch you were feeling felt like you were being cherished, encapsulated with wanting to re-experience the emotion of being taken cared of and not being punished out of one's own enjoyment.
you felt seen, even with your vision being under the darkness.
but you don't know that the man before you is someone who's been lusting from afar.
he desires you like the air he breathes. treasures you like a rare gem that no one has ever seen but only heard myths. he views you as a siren that has only appeared once in a lifetime, a glimpse of unforgettable beauty that makes one dwell on the thought. he wondered what his roommate would look like if he caught his girlfriend and his best friend having sex on his bed. the thought haunted him but at the same time, it aroused him.
as wrong as that sounded, he didn't care. deep down, all he cared about was getting one taste of your body, although the thought itself was enough to make him cream in his pants.
he grazes your clit, your body responding by twitches, splashes of your juices paint his finger, watching the way your mouth softly parts and back arching as the sensation grows sharper the more he teased. your folds were warm, aching with desperation as your stomach stutters with every breath interrupted with every stroke he made, even if it was a small graze or a sense of being touched.
he could feel the vibration pulsing through your skin, swelling with soft beats until he dragged his index finger near your entrance where the source of the pleasure was. the added pressure made your body arch more intensely, your back curling against the bed while the pad of his fingers presses the toy deeper into your pussy, the only thing peeking out was the rope that was attached. your voice grows louder and strained when you feel the tightness of the toy reach places that weren't used to its shape.
he tries to compose himself, teeth finding their way to his bottom lip, biting hard that it leaves an imprint on his lips, making them red as blood. your toes clawed deep into the sheets, ruffling in between your soles while you tried to compose yourself but this was a battle you could not win.
you feel the heavy weight on the left side of the bed softly springs back into an even surface, feeling confused at the decision. you hear the heavy thuds against soft carpet that thumps with every step the mysterious figure took. you furrow your eyebrows, despite being blindfolded, you felt uneasy but not with discomfort — with anticipation.
as you were about to say something, you feel the bed weigh down but instead it was in front of you. where your legs were parted, your vulnerable position that makes you unfold quick. however you started to feel a slight breath of a wind brush against your torso as you feel the weight slowly dip down on both sides of your head. you feel a cold, metal surface touch your neck that makes your lips part, just as you feel a warm pair of lips grazing against yours.
the soft flesh of jay's lips gently touches, almost like a caress. he slightly tilts his head to gain access to your mouth, earning a small squeal from you. he slowly darts his tongue into your mouth, a wet patch of saliva mixes with yours. you softly moan into the kiss, each breath taken away by the soft tug of his control. the kiss was gentle, yet so dominating — it felt so different from what you were used to. a rough command, a kiss that felt like a point that needed to be proven instead of a kiss that expressed intimacy; a warmth for longing.
you never craved something so sweet until now, you felt small and submitted to the kiss, something you've never felt before. you feel his lips part from yours, your head slightly follow his, insinuating that you wanted more. your lips were swollen, plumped with an overdrive of pleasure. you bite your bottom lip, not wanting the after effect to leave.
you feel the cold, spiking sensation touch your skin once again as his lips were on your neck, leaving wet kisses of his brand on you, though you were already claimed by another man — a man who couldn't do his job right.
wet blotches of his lips trail lower: kissing the base of your neck with a mixture of bites that left subtle marks but would later fade as he neglected them to draw attentions to your unattended parts of your body. dragging down to your clavicle, putting all the attention to both sides, moving his lips to your shoulders, small squeaks fill the quiet room, making the sound even more lewd than it already was.
he stops at your chest, giving his full attention to your nipples, specifically your left nipple. his warm tongue licks the bud, making an angelic moan leave your lips. your sounds make something tick inside him, being more addicted to your body.
you feel his tongue swirl around your nipple, hardening with every lick as you squirm beneath him. you mold your lips into a line, trying your best to suppress your moans but the sensitivity was overpowering. your nipple was hardening against his mouth as he sucks your hard bud. his other hand was massaging your right breast, kneading it like bread — what a great multitasker. "f-fuck…t-too — mmph!" you squeal out, trying to form words but the pressure of his mouth on your breast started to interrupt your train of thought. he feels your body jerk against him, feeling satisfied at the reaction he was getting from you.
a slight "pop" echoes through the room as he's given your left nipple enough attention. he moves onto your right nipple, his tongue doing its magic as his other hand trails down your trembling body and lands right on your clit.
the cold hand grazes against it, earning a whimper to escape your lips. you feel the pad of his fingers, rotating in a circular motion with your slick dripping all over his hand. your legs clench around his body, shaking like jello as his mouth was adding more pleasure, overwhelming you to the bone.
the vibrator was the cherry on top. you felt numb at the numerous times you came but you've lost count. "b-babe what's with you tod-" you shriek as you feel his teeth tug on your nipple, head tilting back onto the pillow. he couldn't hear you. he was too focused on pleasuring you from all the pent up frustration that he endured for so long.
every night, jay could hear the bed frame hitting the wall to the point he thinks that one day, his roommate was going to break the bed — he was surprised he hasn't, despite every time he would invite you over, all he could hear was your moans as the bed frame was slamming at a rhythmic pace. he envied his roommate and he never hated him more than he does now.
he stops worshiping your right nipple and starts kissing your body again. pampering your stomach while you squirm at the ticklish feeling until you feel a hot breath hovering of your clit. his hands cup onto your thighs, hugging them like they were his life support — well — he might need it.
you might not be able to see but you could feel the tip of his tongue making slight contact with your clit as his breath became hotter against you. his breaths became shallow, almost like a dog panting while the sight in front of him was making him salivate. he licks a stripe, making you jolt with sensitivity. he lets out a low chuckle as you continued to squirm away from his touch. his grip tightens around your thighs, continuing giving your pussy lips kitten licks that left a ticklish outcome. the vibrator was still buzzing like there was no end, sending shock waves to flow through your nerves, almost like you were vibrating with overstimulation.
his tongue moves expertly around the shape of your pussy as his thighs were trembling violently, making impossible to sit still. your breathing starts to pick up, your chest falling up and down that was smoothly pace at first, but soon became struggling to find your breathing pattern. every control in your body became weaker the more you felt jay's tongue abused your pussy to no end. the pressure was too much, you found yourself struggling to break free from the handcuffs, wanting to feel something — anything that would hold you still, make the feeling less intense but even you knew that would be completely useless.
"h-holy shit — f-fuck!." you yell out, feeling the muscles under you skin beginning to feel taut as his fingers were seeping into your skin as his aggression becomes more fierce with every slow lick that would edge you until you fully broke. his control was grounded — precise like he's practiced for this moment. if you weren't complete enamored to the pleasure, you would question why your "boyfriend" seemed different and less careless but with the way he had you anchored beneath him, it made your train of thoughts come to a halt.
"i-i'm g—ge—getting c-close…pl-please." your voice shifts into a softer tone, your thighs squeeze in between his head but he doesn't slow down, instead his flicks become more faster and faster, tongue swirling against your folds, making your voice become louder — you're sure that jay could hear you even though he was the one making you feel good.
"sh-shit babe, i'm gonna!" you yell out.
"JAYYY??? I'M BACKKK!! I GOT YOU SOME-" shit.
jay's eyes widen and heart starts to pound in his chest profusely. "fuckfuckfuck…" jay quietly mutters against you. he hears you, quietly say his name in a confused tone. "jay?" before you could even say another word, he immediately leeches off of you and runs into his room, not looking back at you.
once he arrived at his room, he closes the door shut. his back hitting against the doorframe, leaning his head against the wall.
"shit he's gonna kill me." he quietly retorts to himself.
lolli: you've completed the objective! what's your plan now? before you explore, proceed with caution. flashing lights might appear at times so be prepared in advance. have fun!!!
synopsis: you're moving into your college apartment when a handsome guy helps you with your heavy boxes on the stairs. He turns out to be Jay, your older neighbor — a lawyer who quickly becomes part of your new life. He listens to you ramble for hours but never offers much about himself, and you tell yourself it's fine, that everyone has boundaries. Being with him feels too right to question, so you let yourself fall anyway, completely lost in him and blind to what's right in front of you until it's too late.
includes: student!reader x lawyer!jay, age gap (not specified), neighbors to lovers (?), lots of domestic fluff mixed with rough sex, slow-burn buildup before the smut, explicit sexual content (mdni), big dick jay, size kink (emphasis on thickness, length, belly bulge, stretching, etc.), cockwarning, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink, praise kink, multiple orgasms, spitting in mouth, overstimulation, oral (f. & m. receiving), fingering, riding, missionary, spooning sex, car sex, doggy, spanking (punishment), manhandling, dirty talk, nipple play, soft dom!jay, brief mean dom jay, aftercare, pet names (princess & baby).
wc: 19.2k ─ a/n: ngl i'm so insecure about this... it took me forever to finish because i was running out of creativity and kept giving up, but i finally did it! really hope you guys like it anyways. i'd really appreciate any feedback! happy reading <33
comment here to join the tag list! .𝜗𝜚 ݁˖
You have been waiting for this moment for months, even years. You are finally moving out. It is because of college, but still, it is a new beginning far from home — a brand-new chapter in your own space. A mix of excitement and nervousness settles in your chest, because living alone requires a lot of responsibility, and you are not sure if you are ready to handle it all.
For the past five minutes, you have been staring at the mountain of boxes crammed into the trunk and backseat of your car like a game of Tetris. You are wondering how you are going to carry so many boxes up to the third floor where your apartment is. With a deep breath, you finally grab one of the boxes, and immediately stagger under its weight.
"Maintenance. Sorry for the inconvenience" reads the sign taped to the elevator doors.
Drops of sweat form on your temples, down the back of your neck, and pool on your spine, making your shirt stick to your skin. Of course it would be hot as hell on the day of your move, and of course the elevator wouldn't be working — talk about lucky.
You take another deep breath, hug the box against your chest, and begin climbing the stairs slowly, careful not to lose your balance.
Your arms are trembling and your breathing is almost as heavy as the box by the time you finally reach the first floor, forcing you to set it down for a moment to rest. But just as you pick it up again, mentally preparing for the next flight of stairs, the sound of footsteps coming down from above catches you off guard.
A man is coming down the stairs. He’s tall, wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the prominent veins on his forearms. His jaw is sharp — probably sharper than any knife you’ve ever seen. He looks so put-together that you suddenly feel embarrassed by your sweaty face and disheveled state.
Seeing you, he stops immediately, his eyebrows furrowing with mild concern. "Whoa. Let me help you with that." His voice is low and smooth, the kind of voice that sends a shiver down your spine before you can stop it.
You blush, heat rising from your neck to your cheeks. "Oh, you don’t have to. I can manage—"
"I insist," he replies gently, waiting with his hands hovering, giving you the choice. You let him take the box, and the relief is immediate — your arms practically sing in gratitude. He lifts it as if it weighs nothing, cradling it against his chest with just one arm — the same box you were struggling to carry with both. "I’m Jay, by the way."
You quickly wipe the sweat from your forehead and try to fix your hair because you want to look at least a little presentable for the incredibly good-looking man helping you. "Thank you so much. I’m y/n. I’m moving in today, to apartment 3B."
Jay’s expression softens, and a warm smile spreads across his face. "3B? That’s interesting. I live right next door, in 3A." He nods toward the stairs. "Looks like we’re neighbors." He gestures ahead. "After you."
You both climb the remaining stairs together and your heart still pounding. You can’t tell if it’s from the physical effort earlier or from his company. Because of the nerves, the words start tumbling out before you can stop them.
"I’m starting college this week. I got accepted and everything, and I was so excited when I found this apartment. It’s the first time I’ve ever lived away from home, so I’m really thrilled… but also kind of terrified? Like, what if I get lost on campus? What if my classes are way harder than I expected? I brought way too much stuff, I’m kind of attached to my things, you know?" You let out a breathless laugh. "Sorry, I’m probably talking too much. I get really chatty when I’m nervous."
Jay glances at you as you walk, the box still balanced effortlessly in his arms. He doesn’t look annoyed — in fact, he seems amused, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You’re not talking too much. It’s a big change, but you’re doing great."
You bite your lower lip, watching him as you climb. There is something intriguing about him that sparks your curiosity. "And you? Are you a student too, or…?"
He chuckles softly, shaking his head. "No, I’ve already graduated. I work at a company downtown." He says it casually, offering no further details — which only makes you even more curious.
You reach the landing of the second floor and have to stop to catch your breath, while Jay doesn’t even seem slightly winded — it’s honestly impressive. "My parents helped me pack my bags, but they’re hours away now. It’s exciting, though. New city, new people. I just hope I don’t ruin everything."
"You won’t," Jay says gently. "Everyone feels like that at the beginning. The nervousness is normal. Besides, you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. You’ll find your rhythm." He sets the box down carefully in front of your door. "Ready for another round?"
The words hit you like a spark. "Ready for another round." And before you can help it, your mind immediately drifts, imagining Jay on top of you, his strong body pressing you into the mattress, that same low voice murmuring the question against your neck while his hands pinned your wrists above your head. Heat flooded your face and settled lower in your belly.
You quickly shake your head, trying to push the thought away, desperately hoping your blush isn't too obvious. "Yes, let's do it."
He carries the rest of the boxes for you, going up and down the stairs multiple times. Meanwhile, you keep rambling nonstop about what you are studying, where you are from, and how you are feeling about this new phase of your life. He listens as if he genuinely cares, and even though you can’t quite place the age difference between you two, you feel surprisingly comfortable with him.
When the last box finally makes it through the door, you stand in the hallway with a grateful smile. "Thank you so much, Jay. Honestly. I don’t know what I would have done without you."
"Glad I could help. Moving is a big step. If you need anything else, I’m right next door." With that, he returns to his own apartment, leaving you surrounded by a sea of boxes that will clearly take hours to unpack.
A few days pass. You unpack — not everything, just the most important things. Your first classes are overwhelming. You get lost twice, accidentally walk into the wrong lecture hall, and sit through an entire lecture on quantum physics before realizing your mistake. But as embarrassing as it was, that mistake ended up leading you to a guy named Jake, who turned out to be incredibly nice and cute.
Now you are standing outside Jay’s door with a plate of cupcakes in your hands, ready to properly thank him for helping you with the move. The thing is, you can’t really bake; you tried making the cupcakes yourself but ended up burning the batch, so you had to go to the bakery on the corner to buy a box of them instead. They look a bit too professional, but since he doesn't know about your complete lack of kitchen skills, you're confident he won't suspect a thing — especially since you took them out of the box and arranged them nicely on a plate just to be extra safe.
You knock on his door, your heart pounding hard in your chest. He opens it a moment later, and his face lights up when he sees you. "Hey, neighbor," he says, leaning against the doorframe. "How are classes going?"
"Good," you reply, pushing the plate forward with a little too much force. "Great, actually. I only got lost twice today, which is an improvement." Your smile widens. "I brought these for you. For helping me with the move. I made them myself."
He looks at the cupcakes, then back at you, this time raising an eyebrow. "You made these?"
"Yes," you say, nodding firmly with your chin held high, trying to look confident. "From scratch. All by myself. I’m pretty good at baking."
He picks up one of the cupcakes and examines it, narrowing his eyes as he brings it closer to his face. You feel your determination starting to crumble.
"Really?" he asks with a smile, clearly testing how long you will keep up the lie. "From scratch?"
You hold his gaze for three whole seconds before you look away in embarrassment. Your shoulders drop and your face turns as red as a tomato. "Okay, fine. I bought them at the bakery on the corner. I took them out of the box so you would think I’m a functional adult who knows how to bake." You laugh at yourself. "I tried making them the other day, Jay. I set off the smoke alarm. I’m a danger to this entire building."
He throws his head back and laughs — not mocking you, but with a genuine, warm laugh that makes you feel less embarrassed about pretending you had baked the cupcakes. "Oh my God, you actually burned them?"
"I once burned noodles. I’m a total disaster in the kitchen."
He steps aside, still smiling, and gestures for you to come in. "Alright, come in. I’ll split one of these ‘homemade’ cupcakes with you. It’s the least I can do for someone who put so much effort into the task."
Your mom’s voice whispers in the back of your mind: "Don’t talk to strangers and definitely don’t go into their apartments, sweetheart." But is he really a stranger? He is your neighbor who carried all your boxes without complaining, and the way he stands there holding the plate of cupcakes with that smile makes you not hesitate at all.
You follow him inside. He leads you to the kitchen, grabs two small plates, and carefully unwraps a vanilla cupcake, splitting it in half before sliding one piece toward you.
"Have a seat," he says, pointing to the stool by the kitchen island.
"So, you mentioned you work downtown? What exactly do you do?" you ask as you sit down.
"I’m a lawyer," he replies, taking a bite of his half and nodding in approval. "Good choice of bakery, by the way."
You laugh, biting into yours. "A lawyer. That makes a lot of sense. You have this… I don’t know how to say it without sounding weird, but you have this organized vibe. Like you’re really good at arguing without even raising your voice."
His smile widens. "People have definitely told me that before that I have a ‘courtroom voice.’ It’s just my normal voice, only lower and slower. People tend to listen when you don’t yell."
"You’ll have to show me someday. If I ever get in legal trouble, I’ll know exactly who to call."
"Please don’t get in legal trouble. But if you do, I’m your guy."
The conversation flows just as easily as it did on moving day, and before you know it, you’re venting about your annoying professor, how massive the campus is, and all the times you’ve already managed to get lost. Between all the talking, the cupcakes completely disappear, leaving the coffee he made to sit cold and barely touched in your mug. There’s just something about him that instantly puts you at ease.
Despite the age gap, he never talks down to you or makes you feel small, which makes talking to him completely effortless. It’s just so comforting to have someone around who listens to you with that much care and attention — especially when he happens to be incredibly good-looking, leaving you totally hooked since the very first day.
As he walks you to the door when you finally get up to leave, he snatches a pen and a post-it note to scribble something down. Before you know it, he’s pressing the paper into your palm, his fingers brushing lightly against yours and sending a sudden warmth to your cheeks as he says, "Here’s my number, in case you ever need anything."
"Thank you," you say, smiling a little too wide.
He nods. "Anytime. Seriously. Don’t be a stranger."
────────
The grocery bags dig painfully into your fingers as you stand in the lobby, staring at the elevator doors that are still under maintenance. You look at them as if a miracle might happen — maybe if you stare for one more second, God will take pity and finally fix it. Nothing happens, of course, which makes you let out a long sigh of frustration. It has been days since you moved in and the elevator is still not working.
Your arms already hurt from carrying way too many bags. You definitely should have made two trips, but stubbornness won.
Reaching the second floor is pure torture; your arms are burning, those plastic handles are digging right into your palms, and the bags keep swinging awkwardly against your legs. Trying to stop and adjust your grip only makes things worse, to the point where you're seriously considering just sitting right there on the stairs and crying.
You finally collapse against the wall at the third-floor landing, letting the bags slide to the floor just to catch your breath. Right then, the door to 3A clicks open and Jay steps out — perfectly dressed for work with that annoyingly handsome lawyer look that instantly makes your stomach do a little flip.
He sees you immediately. For a second, his eyes take in the whole scene — your flushed face, the many overloaded bags, and the way you are leaning against the wall breathing heavily. A light, amused laugh escapes him. It is not mocking, just genuinely entertained, as if he expected nothing less from you.
"Carrying heavy stuff again?" he asks, walking toward you. "You really don’t learn, do you?"
Before you can even open your mouth to protest, he is already reaching for the bags, picking them all up at once as if they weigh absolutely nothing. His strong arms support the weight so effortlessly that his biceps press against the fabric of his dress shirt, making it completely impossible for you not to stare.
He turns and walks toward your door, carrying everything like it is nothing.
At your doorstep, Jay sets all the bags down carefully against the wall and turns to face you. His expression is calm, almost unreadable, but there is something more in it. You understand it the moment he starts speaking in a gently scolding tone. "You really shouldn’t carry so much at once," he says, crossing his arms. "It’s not safe and it’s clearly too heavy for you. Make two or three trips next time. Look at your hands, they’re all red. You were hurting yourself. Why? Because you’re way too stubborn, huh?"
You glance down at your palms, and they are red where the plastic handles dug in. "I was fine," you say, though even you do not believe it. "I almost made it."
"Don’t be stubborn."
"You sound exactly like my dad," you reply, crossing your arms to mimic him. "He’s always telling me I’m too stubborn for my own good."
Jay’s lips curve into a small smile. "Because you really are," he says with so much certainty that you cannot even argue back. "I’m serious. Next time, make multiple trips or just text me. I’d rather help than watch you struggle like that."
There is a protective tone in his voice that makes your cheeks warm with a mix of embarrassment and something else stirring low in your stomach. He is lecturing you like a child, but somehow it sounds kind of hot coming from him.
Then he glances at the grocery bags again. Now that the scolding is over, he seems to actually pay attention to what is inside them. He picks one up and looks inside — it is full of frozen meals, instant noodles, ultra-processed food, and canned goods. "Look, I know you’re in college now, but that doesn’t mean you have to live on processed food. It’s quick, sure, but you need real fresh stuff, not just things that come out of a can. Eating like this long-term isn’t good for you. You could get sick."
You blink, caught off guard by the extra lecture. He is fully in dad-mode now, and there is something strangely attractive about how seriously he takes it, like he is genuinely worried about you. "Okay, okay. I get it… I already told you I’m a disaster in the kitchen, so I just grabbed whatever is easiest so I don’t starve."
Jay’s expression softens a little. "I’m not trying to scold you. I just know how easy it is to fall into bad habits when you’re living on your own for the first time." He pauses and adds in a gentler voice, "If you ever need help in the kitchen, you know where to find me. I’m not exactly a chef, but I know how to make real meals."
Your mind wanders again because you can’t help it — you picture him in your kitchen, standing right behind you while teaching you how to cook, his hands guiding yours, the warmth of his body against your back…
"I’ll try to do better, I swear. Thanks for helping again. I think I owe you something now. How about brownies as a thank you this time?"
Jay shakes his head, chuckling softly. "You don’t owe me anything. Just be more careful next time." He glances at the heavy bags one more time. "Need help carrying these inside?"
You shake your head quickly. "I can handle it from here. I bet you’re busy, you look like you’re heading to work."
He checks the watch on his wrist. "Yeah, I have a meeting soon, but the offer stands anytime." Before turning to leave, he gives you one last firm look. "Take care of yourself."
After he leaves, you drag the bags inside, one half first and then the other, just like Jay suggested.
That night, you are sprawled on the couch, scrolling through your phone, when you open your contacts. You saved Jay’s number, of course, but you have been telling yourself you don’t need to text him. It is an emergency-only number, but then you think about him carrying your groceries, the effortless way he took them from you, and the gentle scolding in his voice. Before you can overthink it, you are already typing a message to him.
────────
It is already past midnight and you have been staring at the same page of your textbook long enough for your vision to blur. Your brain has officially given up — it is impossible to absorb a single word more after hours of studying.
You are about to slam the book shut to take out your stress on it and drag yourself to bed when a soft knock sounds at the door. Your heart jumps slightly because you were not expecting anyone, especially not at this hour.
Another knock.
You get up slowly, stretching your sore muscles, and walk to the door. When you open it, Jay is standing there, looking different tonight without his formal work clothes and lawyer posture. He is wearing a simple white t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and is barefoot. He looks relaxed, holding a bottle of red wine — as if he made the sudden decision to knock on your door and came straight over without even putting shoes on.
"Hey," he says, his low voice making your stomach flip. His eyes scan over you, taking in your tired face, messy hair, and pajamas. Something in his expression softens.
"Hey," you reply softly, matching his tone.
"Hey," he repeats, then laughs when he realizes what he just did.
"Hey," you answer again, this time with a small smile. "You already said that."
"I know." He laughs again, shaking his head. "I just… it’s late."
"Very late."
"I know." He lifts the bottle slightly. "I bought this earlier today but… it’s no fun drinking alone."
You look at the wine, then back at him. The way he is standing there — messy hair, ridiculously handsome, and a little too soft — makes going back to bed suddenly seem like a very stupid choice. "Are you inviting me to drink with you?"
"I’m asking if you want to take a break. From everything."
The way he looks at you with those inviting eyes makes the decision easy, but you decide to tease him first. "I don’t usually drink with strangers."
"We’re not strangers," he says, his voice soft. Your teasing does not seem to faze him.
"We’re not exactly friends either," you reply, tilting your head and studying his reaction.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, almost lazy smile. "Then let’s change that."
You pretend to consider it for a moment, even though you were already fully committed the second you saw him at your door. "Mmm, okay. But let’s do it at your apartment. Mine is a mess."
His smile widens, crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Alright, whatever you want."
You grab your keys and follow him, also barefoot, to the door next to yours. His apartment is clean and organized as always, which makes the space feel strangely comforting. In the kitchen, he pours two glasses of wine and hands you one, his fingers brushing against yours for half a second and sending a spark through your body.
"Cheers," he says, raising his glass.
"Cheers," you repeat, gently clinking your glass against his.
You take a sip and let out a small, involuntary hum of appreciation — it is much better than you expected, probably the most expensive wine you have ever tasted. He gestures toward the living room. "Come on, let’s sit," he says, leading the way to the couch. You follow and settle onto his couch, trying to look more relaxed than you actually feel.
"This is nice," you say, taking another sip.
He sits on the other end of the couch — close enough to talk comfortably, but far enough to be polite. "It’s just wine." He takes a sip, watching you over the rim of his glass.
"I mean relaxing… not thinking about classes for the first time."
He nods, understanding. "You think about classes a lot."
"It’s pretty much my entire life right now," you admit with an awkward little laugh, taking another sip.
"I remember going through that too. Everything revolving around exams, assignments, and exhausting responsibilities."
You tilt your head, studying him. "You make it sound like ancient history."
"Sometimes it feels like it." He takes a sip, not breaking eye contact. "I still remember when I was in college. I used to think a bad grade would ruin everything." A dry laugh escapes him as he shakes his head. "There’s so much pressure."
Suddenly you find yourself wanting to know more about him, drawn by the experienced tone in his voice and posture. The wine is already loosening your tongue, so you ask. "How old are you, anyway?"
A small, playful smile appears on his lips. "I’m old enough."
You narrow your eyes, trying to hold back a smile. "That’s not an answer."
"It’s the only one you’re getting." He takes another sip.
"That’s annoying," you say, leaning forward slightly and resting your elbows on your knees.
"Maybe I am annoying." He shrugs, but there is a sparkle in his eyes that tells you he is enjoying this.
"You’re avoiding the question," you accuse, pointing a finger at him.
"I’m protecting my privacy."
"From what? Your neighbor?" You laugh, raising an eyebrow.
"Especially from my neighbor."
You pout, pretending to be hurt. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
"Everyone has secrets," he says, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone.
"I don’t." You are not even sure why you say it. Maybe it is the wine, or the way he is looking at you right now.
"Everyone does." He holds his ground. "You have secrets too."
Your pulse quickens. "I don’t."
"Yes, you do."
You swallow hard. The air between you feels thicker now, charged with something you can’t quite name. You shift slightly on the sofa and notice how easy it would be to reach out and touch him. "So you have a lot of secrets, huh?" you ask, curious.
"Yes. Quite a few."
"Like what?" you press, wanting to see what he will give you.
"If I told you, they wouldn’t be secrets anymore." His lips curve into a slow, almost predatory smile.
"Touché." You raise your glass in an ironic toast, making him laugh.
A comfortable but heavy silence settles between you for a moment, thick with tension as you exchange glances and take slow sips. The wine is definitely doing its job — making your words come out slower, your laughter easier, and your body warmer.
"How old are you?" he asks, breaking the silence.
You blink, caught off guard. "Me?"
"Yes, you." He leans forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees. "You asked me, so I’m asking you back."
You smile, deciding to play his game. "I’m old enough."
A low, surprised laugh escapes him — rich and genuine. "That’s my line."
"I know." You take another sip to hide your smile.
"You stole my line."
You just shrug. "I borrowed it."
"That’s not how borrowing works."
"Yes, it is."
He laughs again. "You’re impossible."
"Am I? What else?" You raise an eyebrow, challenging him.
"You’re something," he says, his voice dropping again.
"What?" You are not sure what he means by that.
"I don’t know yet." He keeps his eyes fixed on you. "But I’m figuring it out."
You feel your cheeks heat up and take another sip of wine to try to hide your reaction. Jay, however, keeps watching you, and you can tell he noticed.
"You know what I’ve noticed?" By now your voice is a little slurred, so you have to be careful with the words that come out of your mouth.
"What?" His wine glass is almost empty. He sets it on the coffee table and turns all of his attention to you.
You lean back on the couch, turning to face him more directly. Your knee brushes against his thigh, but neither of you pulls away. "You don’t talk much about yourself."
He tilts his head, frowning slightly. "Don’t I?"
"No. You listen, but you don’t share. Like, you’re dodging right now. You give answers, but you don’t really answer."
"Well, I’m trying to protect myself," he says simply.
"Protect yourself from what?" You lean forward, genuinely curious now.
"From getting too attached." The words are honest, and you definitely were not expecting them.
You stare at him, your hand frozen halfway to taking another sip. "From what?"
"To you." His voice is almost a whisper, making your pulse race and your skin flush.
"Why would you get too attached to me?"
He stays silent for a moment, his eyes tracing over you as if he wants to memorize every detail. "Because it’s easy to get attached to you."
"No, it's not," you say, shaking your head as a small, incredulous laugh escapes you.
"It is." His voice is gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. "You just don’t see it."
You look away, feeling your entire body grow warmer. "You’re dodging again."
"I’m being honest." He leans forward slightly, and you can smell him now — a masculine scent mixed with the light sweetness of the wine.
You set your glass on the coffee table and turn to face him completely, the wine making you bolder. "You’re giving me half-answers. You’re telling me just enough to make me curious, but not enough."
He stays quiet for a moment, thinking. "What do you want to know?"
You hold his gaze. "Something real. Truly honest."
Silence stretches between you, thick with something heavy and suffocating that you can't quite name. Then he whispers, "I think you’re beautiful."
Your breath catches, and for a second you are not sure you heard him correctly. "That’s not—" you begin, but he interrupts you.
"It’s honest."
"You can’t just say that," your voice barely comes out as a whisper.
"I just did." His gaze doesn’t leave yours for even half a second.
"It’s too… direct."
"You asked for it." He says it simply, like it is the most natural thing in the world.
"You’re a tease," you say, not sure if you are complaining or not.
"Wait until you find out what else I am. You want to know me? Then make sure you’re ready."
You do not know what to say or what to do, so you look away, your face burning.
When he finally walks you to your door, you are a little unsteady on your feet. He steadies you with a gentle hand on your waist, and the touch is enough to send shivers through your body. "I’m fine," you murmur, even though you are swaying slightly.
"You’re drunk," he says, smiling at your messy state.
"I’m a little tipsy," you reply, giving him a blurry-eyed look.
"You’re drunk."
"It’s the same thing," you mutter dismissively.
"No, it’s not." He is looking at you with that warm, steady gaze that makes your knees feel weak.
You smile, light and tipsy. "Yes, it is."
At your door, you miss the lock twice. He laughs softly before helping you. "Thank you," you whisper. "For this, for the wine, the company, and everything."
His lips curve into a small, warm smile. "Good night, old enough.:
You smile again — you seem to always be smiling when he is around. "Good night, old man."
You step inside, close the door, and lean against it with your heart racing and your whole body warm from the wine and his words — still smiling like an idiot.
A few minutes later, you are curled up in bed when your phone buzz on the nightstand.
────────
You have been tossing and turning on the mattress for what feels like hours — shifting positions, turning to the other side, but nothing helps. You can’t fall asleep — you mind refuses to stop, racing with thoughts about exams, deadlines, and the weight of all your responsibilities pressing down on your shoulders. You need air, you need to feel like you are not suffocating in that apartment, surrounded by boxes you haven't even had the time to unpack yet. There are several unfinished notes on your desk that constantly remind you that you are not doing enough, no matter how hard you try.
So you go up to the rooftop. The cool night air hits your face and lets you breathe again.
The city is an endless sea of lights — countless tiny glowing points in the darkness that remind you how small you really are. You sit on the old bench near the edge of the roof, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping your arms around them like a shield.
Your thoughts slowly begin to calm as the minutes pass, and the knot in your chest loosens just a little.
Then the door creaks open behind you.
You turn quickly, your body instantly on alert and your heart racing. And there he is — Jay. He is wearing sweatpants and a black shirt, something about this casual, almost domestic look makes your heart skip a beat. He sees you immediately and stops. Surprise flashes across his face for a second before it turns into that familiar half-smile.
"Can’t sleep either?" His voice is low, almost intimate in a way that makes you shiver.
You shake your head. "I have too much on my mind right now…"
He nods as if he completely understands — and he really does. Walking toward you, he stops at a respectful distance before sitting on the bench beside you — close enough for you to feel the warmth of his body, but not so close that he invades your personal space. "Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all." You shift over a little even though there is already enough space.
He leans back, looking up at the sky, which is beautiful tonight with a full moon and stars shining brightly. The silence stretches between you. He doesn’t force conversation; he simply sits there observing the sky and the city with you. The silence is not awkward — it is actually comforting, especially when you are with him.
"I can’t sleep," you admit, breaking the silence with words that slip out before you can stop them. "I try, but my brain just won’t stop. Every time I close my eyes, I start thinking about all the things I have to do, all the things I haven’t done, and all the ways I’m probably going to mess everything up."
"What’s on your mind?" His voice is gentle and patient as always, showing that he is ready to listen.
"Everything." You let out a shaky sigh. "College, exams, being away from my family for the first time… It’s a lot. I thought I was ready, that I could handle it. But sometimes it feels like I’m drowning and I don’t know how to swim. Literally."
"I know how that feels," he says after a long moment of silence. His eyes stay fixed on yours, and there is something raw in them — something honest. "I remember feeling exactly like that. Like everything was too much and I was too small to handle it."
"You’re talking about yourself. That’s new," you say softly. "You always ask about me, but you never—"
"You already have enough on your plate," he cuts in gently.
You blink, caught off guard. "What?"
"You’re stressed about college, adjusting to a new city, and far from your family," he keeps his gaze steady on you, his expression sincere. "You don’t need to hear about my problems too."
"That’s not how it works." You shake your head as something warm and confusing blooms in your chest. "We’re supposed to share things. That’s what—" You pause, searching for the right word. "That’s what friends do."
"I don’t want to burden you when you’re already dealing with so much, and I certainly don’t want to make it worse."
You stay quiet for a moment, his words stirring something you cannot quite name — but it feels good. "That’s really… kind," you finally say.
"I try." He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.
The silence settles again, and you sit together quietly for a while longer. Then, out of nowhere, he tilts his head and asks, "How’s your succulent doing?"
You laugh at the unexpected question. "You’re asking about my plant?"
"I remember you mentioned it." He turns toward you — fully turning his body — with a small playful smile on his lips. "I bet you gave it a name."
You shake your head, still smiling. "I haven’t named it yet… but it’s still alive, which is honestly impressive."
"You’re supposed to water it," he says in a gently scolding tone.
"I know." You look away, feeling a little guilty about slowly killing a plant.
"But you forget." There is no judgment in his voice, only warm amusement.
"I forget." You laugh — something you always do when you are with him. "I have a lot on my mind, okay?"
"You’re a plant killer." He smiles, making you grin even wider.
"I’m not a plant killer! I’m just… forgetful. It is surviving, which is more than I can say about myself sometimes."
Something in your words changes his expression. It is still gentle, but now there is a hint of concern. "You’re doing better than you think."
You don’t know what to say, so you just look at him, with the words stuck in your throat.
"Does the succulent at least have company?" he asks after a moment, his voice light as always.
You blink, confused by the sudden question. "What?"
"Other plants, maybe some flowers, something to keep it company. Plants get lonely too."
You laugh, shaking your head. "I don’t think it gets lonely. It’s just a plant, after all."
"All living things have feelings. It definitely feels lonely," he says with so much conviction that you almost believe him.
"That’s not scientifically accurate," you reply, not entirely sure if what you are saying is accurate either.
"I never said it was." He shrugs. "I’m a lawyer. I deal with arguments, not facts."
"They’re the same thing."
"Not at all." He shifts closer to you on the bench, making sure you are listening. "Facts are objective. Arguments are subjective. I make a living turning subjective arguments into something that sounds like objective facts."
"That’s… something. And you’re so weird."
"I’m just concerned about your plant’s loneliness." His voice is incredibly serious, showing that he is taking this very seriously.
"You’re worried about my plant," you say, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes, just like I worry about you."
You don’t know what to say again — Jay has a way of leaving you speechless. Your cheeks flush and you look away. "I’ve never received flowers before, anyway…" you say softly, the secret slipping from your lips.
Jay is not sure he heard you correctly. "What did you say?"
Even though you hesitate, you repeat it, louder this time. "I’ve never received flowers." You look down at your hands, fidgeting with your fingers. "I had a boyfriend before, but he was an idiot. He never did anything romantic like giving me flowers or taking me for dates."
He stays silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on you while your heart pounds loudly in your ears. He is thinking about something — you can tell by the way his jaw tightens. "Would you want to go on one? With me."
You stop breathing the moment you hear his words and everything around you seems to freeze. "What?"
"A date. A real date where I pick you up, open doors for you, and take you somewhere nice. It doesn’t have to be romantic if you don’t want it to be. It can just be two people spending time together. Whatever makes you feel comfortable."
Your heart is beating so hard you are sure he can hear it, your mouth is dry, your palms are sweaty, and the words feel stuck in your throat again. Jay is asking you out on a date — a real date. The age gap has been on your mind since the day you met — he is a lawyer and you are still trying to figure out how to live on your own, but every interaction with him feels safe, like he truly sees you.
"Jay, I—" You stop, taking a shaky breath.
"You don’t have to answer right now," he says gently, giving you time to think.
"No, I—" You take another deep breath, and this time the words come out steady. "Yes. Yes, I want that."
His face transforms — a slow, warm smile spreads across his lips and reaches his eyes, making your stomach flip and your heart race just like always.
"Great," he says softly. "I’ll plan something."
A shy laugh escapes you as the reality of it sinks in. "What do you like to do on dates? I’m sure you’ve been on plenty."
He leans forward a little, resting his elbow on his knee. "I want to know what you like. That’s what matters right now, tell me your preferences so I can plan something good for you."
As you think for a moment, you suddenly feel embarrassed by how limited your preferences are. "I’m kind of picky, honestly. I like pasta, I hate anything too spicy, and I don’t like overly sweet desserts. Oh, and I’m not a big fan of seafood unless it’s fried. Is that too much?"
Jay listens attentively, nodding as if he is absorbing every detail. "Not at all. Being picky isn’t a problem, it actually makes it easier to get it right." He pauses, a playful glint appearing in his eyes. "You know, for someone who’s a disaster in the kitchen, you have very specific opinions, princess."
The nickname lands softly between you — affectionate and teasing, with a hint of warmth. Your breath catches, your face flushes instantly, and you lower your head to hide the redness in your cheeks and the smile forming on your lips.
"I… You can’t just say that," you murmur, looking at him through your lashes.
"Why not?" He is smiling even more now, clearly enjoying your reaction. "It suits you. You have high standards and you know exactly what you want, even if you pretend you don’t."
You cover your face with both hands for a second, peeking through your fingers. "You’re going to make me regret saying yes."
"Too late," he murmurs, his voice low and affectionate. "You already said yes."
You lower your hands and meet his gaze, your heart racing in the best possible way. Jay stands up suddenly and offers you his hand. "Come on, it’s getting late and you have class tomorrow. Let’s get you back inside before you freeze."
You take his hand — which is so much bigger than yours — and let him help you up. He doesn’t let go afterward, his fingers stay intertwined with yours as you walk together toward your floor. The elevator is no longer broken, but you both take the stairs anyway, wanting to prolong the moment a little longer.
Stopping at your door, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand. “I'll text you about the date,” he says softly. "We’ll pick a night that works."
You nod, still feeling a little shy about everything. "Okay… Good night, Jay."
"Good night, princess."
────────
The next day, you are more nervous than you have ever been. Every notification on your phone makes your heart skip a beat, terrified that it is Jay confirming the date. Your stomach is in knots with a mix of panic and hope, even though you want to go on this date, you are still incredibly nervous about it.
Your phone buzzes while you are in the library trying to study. "Friday at seven? I’ll take care of everything. Just be ready for a proper night out."
The words "proper night out" send a shiver through you. He is taking this seriously, treating it as something special, even though he said it didn’t have to be romantic. Still, it means something. Smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt, you text back agreeing.
When Friday finally arrives, the butterflies in your stomach refuse to calm down. In fact, they become even more restless as the time of the date gets closer. Hours before, you start getting ready — taking your time as you choose an outfit that makes you feel confident and beautiful. You spend extra time on your makeup, keeping it natural but enhancing your eyes and lips, making sure everything is perfect.
Exactly at seven, you take the elevator down. Jay had insisted on waiting outside the building instead of knocking on your door. "I want you to have the full experience," he had texted earlier, and the gesture made you smile despite your nerves. The moment you step out onto the sidewalk, you see him leaning against his sleek black car parked at the curb. He looks unfairly handsome in a tailored dark shirt and pants.
For a moment, he simply looks at you — slowly scanning from your face to your dress and back up again as his smile widens. "You look beautiful," he says, taking a step closer. "Really, truly beautiful."
Your cheeks flush quickly and a smile forms on your lips. "Thank you. You look really handsome too."
Before you can say anything else, he reaches inside the car and pulls out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. "I remembered what you said on the rooftop…"
The bouquet is perfect, wrapped so beautifully that it makes your chest tighten. "Jay…" you whisper as you reach out to take the flowers. "They’re beautiful. I don’t even know what to say."
Without thinking, you give him a grateful hug. His arms wrap around you immediately, one hand resting on your lower back while the other gently caresses the nape of your neck. "You don’t have to say anything. Just enjoy tonight. That’s all I want."
When you pull away, still smiling widely, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and asks, "Ready to go, princess?"
You nod, holding the flowers like a lifeline. He opens the car door for you, waiting until you are settled before closing it gently. When he slides into the driver’s seat, he looks at you with a playful smile. "Seatbelt, please. Safety first."
You laugh and buckle up. "Such a gentleman."
"Only for you."
The drive starts peacefully, soft music playing in the background as you talk. He asks about your day and teases you lightly when you admit that you spent half of your class daydreaming about tonight and that it took you forever to choose what to wear.
You can’t stop stealing glances at him — the way his hands rest easily on the steering wheel, those large hands with long fingers, and the way he looks at you at red lights as if making sure you are still real.
After a few minutes, you notice the city lights fading and buildings giving way to trees. "Where are we going?" you ask curiously, realizing he has been driving for a while — much farther than you expected. "This is pretty far from our building. Are you taking me somewhere to kill me?"
Jay laughs, keeping his eyes on the road. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m just taking you to a place I love, and I think you’ll love it too."
The drive takes about thirty minutes, but when you finally arrive, the restaurant leaves you breathless. You immediately understand why he chose it — it is cozy and elegant, with a stunning view of the city. He reserved a intimate corner table with the perfect view.
He pulls out the chair for you, and as soon as you sit down, he leans in slightly to whisper in your ear, "Relax, okay?"
The dinner unfolds perfectly. You order pasta — creamy, exactly the way you like it — and he chooses a steak dish, offering you a bite from his fork with a raised eyebrow that feels far more intimate than it should. You talk a lot, and he listens as always, head tilted and eyes focused only on you.
You tell him about the friendships you are making in college, about the strange noise your AC is making, and absentmindedly mention the doorman. "He’s nice, I think… but sometimes he looks at me like he knows something I don’t."
Jay’s expression shifts with something unreadable for half a second, but he quickly covers it with a soft chuckle. "He’s probably just in a bad mood. Or maybe he sees how much you’re distracting your poor neighbor."
You laugh. "Poor neighbor? You seem to be handling it pretty well."
His foot brushes against yours under the table. "Barely."
In the middle of the conversation, Jay’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it, frowns, and silences it, slipping it into his pocket.
But a few minutes later, it buzzed again. Jay sighs. "I need to take this. It’s probably an emergency with a client. I won’t be long. I’m really sorry."
"Go ahead. I’ll be here judging the dessert menu."
He leans in and gives you a quick kiss on your temple before standing up. "I’ll be right back, princess."
The casual display of affection makes your heart race as you watch him walk away. While he is gone, you take a sip of your wine, observe the people around you, and study the dessert menu.
He returns after about five minutes, sliding back into his seat with an apologetic smile. "All sorted. Where were we?"
When the check arrives, Jay pays without hesitation, even though you offered to split it. Outside, the night air is cold, so he drapes his jacket over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. Then he pulls you closer for a moment, wrapping his arms around you. "Thank you for saying yes," he murmurs against your hair.
You look up at him, smiling. "That was the best decision I’ve made in a long time."
The drive back feels shorter than the trip there, unfortunately — you wish this moment could last forever. Jay keeps one hand on the wheel and the other holding yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles that send shivers down your spine. You arrive at the building sooner than you would like, but instead of stopping at the curb, Jay drives into the underground garage.
You unbuckle your seatbelt. "Thank you, Jay. For everything, the flowers, the dinner, the evening… I had a really great time."
He turns to you, that slow smile playing on his lips. "I’m glad, princess."
You reach for the door handle, but his hand moves quickly, wrapping around your wrist and stopping you. Your breath catches at the unexpected contact. "Wait, aren’t you going to thank me properly?"
You blink, confused. "I just did? The hug outside the restaurant and just now."
Jay chuckles, and his gaze shifts into something hungrier. "That was sweet, but I was thinking of something a little more fitting for the end of a perfect night."
Without overthinking it, you lean across the console and give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you," you whisper again, pulling back to see his reaction.
His smile widens. "Still not enough, princess. Come here."
He cups the back of your neck and pulls you closer. The kiss starts soft, his lips meeting yours hesitantly, and you quickly melt into it, which makes him deepen the kiss while still keeping a slow, deliberate pace. His tongue traces your lower lip, and you part for him with a small sigh.
What begins as one kiss turns into many, you lose count as they grow more intense, hungry, and urgent.
Somehow, you end up climbing over the console. His hands guide your hips until you are straddling his lap in the driver’s seat. The space is tight and the steering wheel presses against your back, but you couldn't care less right now. His hands roam along your sides, sliding up your dress until they rest on your thighs, his thumbs drawing circles that make you whimper against his mouth.
You kiss him again and again, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently, which draws a low groan from him. That only encourages you — hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you. The friction makes you gasp, and Jay clearly loves the sight — he squeezes your thighs, encouraging your movements.
"God, you’re incredible," he whispers against your mouth between kisses. "So responsive… so perfect."
Jay pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, breathing hard. "You deserve better than this, princess. Our first time shouldn’t be in a car like a couple of impatient teenagers."
You kiss him again, more intensely, nipping at his lower lip. "I don’t care, I want you right here."
He groans, sliding his hand into your hair to pull you into another hungry kiss. "You’re so eager, princess… and so perfect grinding against me like this."
His mouth moves down to your neck, sucking lightly and drawing more whimpers from you. Your movements become restless, rubbing harder, chasing friction. "Jay…" you whisper between kisses. "I need you, please."
His hands find the hem of your dress, slowly pulling it up inch by inch with clear appreciation until he discards it onto the passenger seat. "Beautiful," he murmurs reverently as he stares at your tits. "So beautiful." He leans down, pressing hot, wet kisses along the soft skin, then his tongue circles one nipple before sucking it deeply into his mouth.
You arch your back, a moan escaping your lips. He gives the same attention to the other tit, licking, sucking, and grazing the sensitive skin with his teeth while his hand massages and caresses the first. “You taste so good,” he praises, his voice muffled. "These perfect tits in my mouth… you’re already trembling. So sensitive for me."
He kisses lower, along your sternum and ribs, then back up — worshipping every inch of you while you keep grinding against him. Your panties are soaked, and the friction against his hardness only turns you on more.
He waits until you’re trembling in his lap before he finally moves. Reaching between you, he lowers his pants and boxers just enough to free himself, and when he does, your eyes widen. He is big — thick and hard. The sight makes your mouth water and heat pool low in your belly.
Jay reaches into the glove compartment, fumbling for a condom. He tears it open and rolls it down his length with surprising skill while you watch, hypnotized and a little intimidated by his size and thickness. "You’re… really big," you say softly.
Jay notices your nervousness and caresses your cheek, trying to soothe you. "We’ll go slow, princess. I’ve got you. My good girl can take it."
He helps you shift your panties to the side, guiding you as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense but delicious — you take him inch by inch, breathing deeply as he fills you completely, murmuring praises nonstop. "That’s it, princess… so tight, so good for me… so fucking perfect around me."
You bury your face in his neck as you sink all the way down, taking him completely until your ass is pressed firmly against his lap. "Oh God… you’re so, so big," you moan, still adjusting to the intense stretch.
The age difference flashes through your mind — he is older, more experienced, probably used to women who knew exactly what they were doing. You want to be good for him, so once you feel ready, you start moving — bouncing with almost frantic energy, desperate to please him. Your hips move and grind fast, determined.
"Easy, princess," Jay groans, gripping your hips to slow you down. "Slow… just like that. You feel incredible, but there’s no rush. I’m not going anywhere."
You moan, your cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. "I just… you’ve probably been with so many others who were better at this. I want to make it good for you. I want to be the best—"
He cuts you off with a deep kiss, then pulls back to look into your eyes while still guiding your movements into a slower, deeper rhythm. "Hey, none of that. It’s just you right now, and you’re already the best, baby. Look at how perfectly you take me." He thrusts up gently to emphasize his words, drawing a moan from you. "You’re my princess."
You relax into his words and the rhythm he sets, moving your hips in deep, grinding motions instead of frantic bouncing. It feels even better this way — his thickness brushing against every sensitive spot inside you. "Like this?" you ask breathlessly, your voice shy but needy.
"Just like that," he praises, his voice rough. "So good for me. So wet… so tight. You’re perfect, listen to those pretty sounds you make."
You keep whispering to him the whole time — shy confessions and soft, breathless questions. "You feel so good, Jay… I feel so full. Does it feel good for you? Tell me if you’re enjoying it."
He groans, his hands roaming over your back, squeezing your ass, then returning to your tits so he can lick and suck them while you ride him. "I love it. I love everything you do. The way you squeeze me… the way you say my name. You’re ruining me, princess."
The pleasure builds uncontrollably, intense and overwhelming, leaving both of you sweaty and breathless. He slides a hand between you to your clit, circling it with his thumb in time with your movements. You tremble hard, moaning and gasping, telling him how close you are, how good he feels, and how much you have wanted this since the day you moved in.
When you come, your walls pulse tightly around his thickness and your body shakes as you cry out his name. Jay follows right after, holding you firmly against him as he finishes into the condom with a deep groan, murmuring endless praises. "That’s it, come for me… so beautiful giving yourself to me completely… my perfect girl."
You collapse against his chest, both of you breathing hard. He wraps his arms around you tightly, kissing your temple while his hands gently caress your back. "You okay?" he whispers after a while. "Was it too much?"
"It was perfect," you murmur, nuzzling into his neck. "Better than I imagined. Thank you for slowing me down when I got too excited. I probably embarrassed myself, right?"
He shakes his head lightly and laughs, then he gives you one last kiss on your temple and helps you climb back into the passenger seat, watching as you slip your dress back on. "Don’t forget these," he says, reaching for the bouquet.
You take it with a happy smile. "I wouldn’t dare."
He walks around the car to open your door and intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk toward the elevator. Once inside, he pulls you close and kisses you the entire way up to your floor.
"Your place tonight?" you ask against his lips.
Jay’s hand slides to your lower back, pulling you even closer. "Yes, because I’m not done with you yet. I need you in my bed. The thought of you in my sheets, smelling like me when you wake up… it drives me crazy."
The elevator doors open and he pulls you down the hallway toward his door, unlocking it effortlessly. The moment you are both inside, he takes the flowers from your hand, sets them on the counter, and turns to you with hungry eyes. "Come here," he growls, pulling you into a deep, desperate kiss. His hands cup your face first, then slide down your body. "Let me take care of you properly this time."
He leads you to the bedroom and there, he undresses you slowly, admiring and kissing every inch of exposed skin. When you are completely naked, he steps back and looks at you with pure admiration and desire. "Fuck, look at you… so perfect. Every curve, every inch… all mine tonight."
He removes his own clothes and guides you onto the bed, settling between your spread thighs. His warm palms caress them, spreading you open even more. His mouth is on you immediately, licking a broad stripe from your entrance to your clit before circling the sensitive bud with the tip of his tongue, savoring you. "Mmm, already so wet," the vibration of his voice makes you gasp. "You taste so sweet, princess. Like you were made for my mouth."
You let out a shaky moan, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling him closer. "Jay… that feels incredible. Oh God—"
He slides a finger inside you, curling it against that sweet spot while his mouth continues sucking and licking. The suction around your clit, the rhythm of his finger stroking that perfect spot deep inside — it all turns the pleasure into something deliciously overwhelming. He adds a second finger, then a third, carefully stretching you as he pumps them in and out.
Your hips move against his face as the pleasure intensifies. "Don’t stop… please, Jay, just like that," you moan, your voice breathless and desperate. He eats you out like a starving man — licking, sucking, and thrusting his fingers into you until your thighs shake around his head and you fall apart with a long, loud cry. You clench and pulse around his fingers as the orgasm crashes through you.
Jay doesn’t stop right away, he keeps licking and fingering you through it, prolonging every sensation until you are limp and panting. Only then he drags his mouth up your body, leaving a trail of wet, open-mouthed kisses along your stomach, between your breasts, and up your neck. "You taste like heaven," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "I could do this all night, make you come on my tongue until you go stupid."
He grabs a condom from the nightstand and rolls it on quickly over his hard, leaking cock. You reach down, wrapping your hand around his thick, hard length — stroking him slowly, feeling the weight, the pulsing heat, tracing the veins with curiosity. "I want it raw, Jay… I need to feel you, please."
He groans deeply, his hips pushing forward into your fist. "Baby… protection first, remember? I’ll still make you feel good even with the latex between us, I promise." After kissing your forehead, he positions himself at your entrance and pushes in inch by inch, his eyes locked on yours the entire time. You feel a burning stretch as your walls slowly give way to him, every thick pulsing vein dragging against your sensitive insides. When he’s halfway in, you look down between your bodies and see the clear bulge pressing out against your lower belly.
He notices it right after and quickly slides a hand down to press against the bulge, feeling it move under his palm as he sinks deeper. "Fuck, look at that. You see how deep I am? My cock is rearranging your insides, princess. Stretching this tight pussy so you can see it from the outside."
Your hand joins his, pressing against the visible outline, feeling him move inside you from both the inside and the outside. He teases you mercilessly, thrusting slow and deep so the bulge shifts under your combined touch. "You’re taking me so well, like this pussy was made for my cock. So greedy, swallowing every inch."
He sinks the rest of the way in with a guttural groan, bottoming out completely. "Shit… so tight, so hot. You’re already milking me."
His thick cock fills you so completely that every movement presses against sensitive spots that steal the breath from your lungs. His thrusts start controlled and incredibly gentle instead of brutal force. One hand stays intertwined with yours above your head, while the other caresses your cheek, squeezes your breast, and lightly pinches your nipple before soothing it with his thumb. "You look like pure sin wrapped around me… My beautiful princess, creaming all over my cock, taking every inch like a good girl. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else."
You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Jay… it feels so good. You’re so deep, I can feel you everywhere." He leans down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss as his hips move faster in a devastating rhythm that pushes you closer and closer to the edge.
You come hard around him, your walls fluttering and clenching tightly as you cry out. He does not stop, thrusting deep and steady, prolonging your orgasm until you are shaking. "Fuck, that’s it, come on my cock, baby."
Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible with a long, broken groan of your name as he cums, pulsing inside you. He stays buried deep for long moments afterwards, holding you close and covering your face, neck, and shoulders with soft kisses until both of your breathing steadies.
Eventually, he pulls out carefully, discards the condom, and returns from the bathroom with a warm, damp cloth. He cleans you both gently, murmuring more praises the entire time. "You were perfect, princess. So responsive, so beautiful when you come for me." He pulls the sheets over both of you and wraps you in his arms.
Your head rests on Jay’s chest while his fingers trace a lazy path along your spine, down to the curve of your waist. Without a word, you shift, turning onto your side. Jay follows naturally, molding his body against yours from behind in a perfect spoon. His chest presses against your back as he slides an arm around your waist, pulling you even closer. You can already feel him half-hard again against the curve of your ass, sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.
He nuzzles into the back of your neck, placing soft kisses there. "You okay?" he murmurs, his voice low and rough in the quiet room.
"More than okay," you whisper back, pressing lightly against him. "I like feeling you close like this."
Jay reaches for another condom from the nightstand. You hear the faint rustle as he puts it on, then his hand returns to your body, tenderly caressing your side and hip. He lifts your top leg slightly, hooking it over his, opening you up for him. The thick head of his cock brushes against your entrance before he pushes in slowly, inch by inch, until he is buried completely inside you.
"So good," he whispers against your neck, sliding a hand up to caress your breast. His fingers massage gently, his thumb circling your nipple until it hardens under his touch.
He starts moving — slow, deep rolls of his hips, thrusting unhurriedly so you can feel every inch of his thick cock dragging against your walls. While he fucks you, his hand on your breast never stops worshipping it — squeezing, rolling your nipple between his fingers, occasionally pinching lightly before soothing it with gentle caresses. And his mouth keeps placing open-mouthed kisses along the back of your neck, back, and shoulder.
You reach behind you, running your fingers through his hair as you move with him. "Jay… deeper like that feels so good."
His thrusts become a little deeper, but still controlled. "You take me so well every single time. Look at how perfectly you fit around me. I could stay inside you forever." His mouth finds the sensitive spot on your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark while he continues playing with your breasts — pinching, rolling, and caressing until your nipples are deliciously sore. Only then he slid his hand down to your clit, circling it in time with his thrusts. The combination of sensations is overwhelming and pushes you closer and closer to the edge. "You’re so close… I can feel you squeezing me. Come for me again, princess."
And you do. Your walls contract rhythmically around his thickness as you moan his name, your body trembling in his arms. Jay follows right after you, burying his face in your neck with a deep groan as he comes, filling the condom.
You turn your head slightly to capture his lips in a lazy kiss. "I feel so safe with you," you whisper. "And so wanted."
He stays inside you until the aftershocks fade, then carefully pulls out, discards the condom, and cleans you both once again with gentle care. He pulls the sheets up around you both and draws you back into his arms, spooning you again.
Jay’s hand rests tenderly on your stomach, tracing small circles there. You feel deeply in love and completely at peace as you start to drift off to sleep, safe in his arms.
Sunlight is already filtering through the curtains by the time you slowly wake up the next morning —.only to realize the space beside you is empty, even though the warmth of Jay’s body and the faint scent of his cologne still linger around. You stretch and sit up to look around the room, noticing one of his shirts draped over the back of a chair. Slipping it on, you pad barefoot out of the bedroom toward the kitchen, drawn by the rich aroma of coffee and food already filling the air.
Jay is at the stove, flipping eggs while a plate of toast and cut fruit waits for you on the counter. You walk up to him and wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. "Good morning."
He turns off the stove and turns around, settling his hands on your hips. His gaze softens instantly when he sees you wearing his shirt. "Good morning, princess. You look way too good in my clothes."
You laugh softly and tilt your face up, expecting a kiss. He leans in but pauses with a playful look. "Ah, but you haven’t brushed your teeth yet. No good-morning kisses until after breakfast."
You pout and dramatically pull away. "Not even a kiss on the cheek? You’re so cruel."
With a sigh, he gives in — pressing a long kiss to your cheek, then another to your forehead. Before you can say anything, he effortlessly lifts you and sits you on the edge of the kitchen counter, standing between your knees. "There. Now I can look at you properly while I finish this."
As he moves around the kitchen, your eyes wander until they stop on the refrigerator. Something catches your attention — photos are held up by magnets, but one in particular stands out: a Polaroid of Jay smiling with his arm around a woman’s shoulders. You hadn't noticed it on your previous visits to the kitchen — you had been too focused on him. "Who is that?" you ask curiously, nodding toward the fridge. "The woman in the photo with you?"
Jay glances over while sliding a plate toward you. "That’s my sister. We don’t look much alike, I know. We’re actually half-siblings."
You tilt your head, studying the photo for another second. They really do not look very similar, but that is not unusual for half-siblings. "She looks nice," you say lightly, accepting the plate he offers. "Breakfast looks delicious, by the way. You really didn’t have to."
"I wanted to," he replies, stepping between your knees and stealing a quick peck. "After last night, it feels right to take care of you this morning… and maybe every other morning too."
You smile shyly. "Speaking of last night… it was incredible. You made everything feel so good, so right. I keep replaying every part of it in my head."
He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "You were perfect, baby. I loved every second of it." He leans in and kisses the corner of your mouth. "You’re so beautiful when you let go for me."
"You’re going to make it really hard for me to focus in class today." You take a bite of the toast, savoring it. "Oh, by the way, I’m going out with some new friends from college tonight. They invited me to a party, it’s a chance to get to know each other better outside of class."
Jay nods, resting a hand on your thigh and stroking it lightly. "Sounds fun. Just be careful, okay? Text me when you get there and when you’re heading back."
"I will," you say, stealing another quick kiss from him. "I won’t stay out too late anyway. I have an early class tomorrow."
He picks up a piece of fruit from the plate and brings it to your mouth, brushing his fingers teasingly against your lips. "You deserve to have fun… I’ll be here if you need anything when you get back."
You stumble out of your friend’s car a little after 1 a.m., waving goodbye as you sway on your feet. You make your way toward the building entrance and suddenly remember that you promised to text Jay — which you didn’t. So you call him to let him know you arrived and are heading up. In response, he says he is waiting for you.
When you reach the third floor, Jay’s door is already open and he is waiting for you. "Heyyy," you say cheerfully, immediately wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face against his chest. "I’m back. Just like I promised."
Laughing Jay’s arms wrap around you automatically as he looks at you more closely. "You’re pretty drunk, princess. How was the party?"
"So much fun," you ramble, clinging to him tighter as he guides you inside and closes the door. "We danced, there was a shot game, and my new friends are so funny. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt." You tilt your head up, puckering your lips. "Kiss?"
Instead of a proper kiss, he gives you a quick one on your forehead. "You smell like a distillery and your shirt is soaked, what happened?"
You look down at the sticky stain on your shirt and pout. "Someone spilled on me. It’s gross. But I still want kisses, real kisses." You try to pull his face down, standing on your tiptoes. "I missed you all night. I kept thinking about you during the party… about how nice you were last night. We should do that again right now."
Jay gently holds your wrists to stop you. "Not tonight, princess. You’re drunk."
"But I want you," you beg, pressing closer, but he doesn’t give in at all. "You’re so hot, so gentle, and… big. Please?"
He shakes his head and guides you toward the bathroom. "No. Only when you’re sober and can remember everything clearly. Right now, I’m just taking care of you, okay?"
"Let’s get you cleaned up," he says gently once you reach the bathroom. Reaching for the hem of your wet shirt he carefully pulls it off, followed by the rest of your clothes.
"You’re always so gentle with me," you murmur, watching him adjust the shower temperature. "No one has ever been this gentle. I really, really like you, Jay."
He smiles softly and helps you into the shower, joining you still fully dressed so he can take care of you. Jay keeps one hand on your waist to steady you while the other runs soapy over your shoulders and arms.
The alcohol in your system makes your emotions spill out easily before you can stop them. "I think… I think I’m falling for you," you confess, your tongue loose, making your cheeks flush. "Is that crazy? It feels too fast. I know I’m younger and still figuring everything out, but being with you just feels right. You make me feel safe, wanted, and special."
Jay pauses for half a second, processing what he just heard, but then continues washing you carefully — lathering the floral-scented body wash over your skin. "This smells like… girl stuff," you say, a little curious. "Is it yours?"
He looks away for a moment before answering. "It’s my mom’s. She left some things here the last time she came to visit."
"Ah," You rest your forehead against his chest as the water runs over both of you. "I meant it, though. About falling for you. Even if it’s too soon… I can’t help it."
Jay wraps his arms fully around you under the spray of water, holding you close — voice is full of affection when he finally replies. "Hey… look at me, princess." He gently lifts your chin. "What you’re feeling… I feel it too." Softly, he kisses your forehead, then the tip of your nose. "We don’t need to rush or label anything right now. Just know that I’m here and I care about you a lot."
Even in your alcohol-fueled haze, his words calm the part of you that was worried you were moving too fast. "Really? You feel it too?"
"I do." He continues washing you carefully — your arms, your back, your sides — just taking care of you. "Being with you is easy. Natural. So let’s just enjoy it, okay? One day at a time."
Jay finishes rinsing you off and helps you out of the shower. Wrapping you in a towel he dries you gently before dressing you in one of his shirts. By the time he guides you to bed, you are already sleepy. He helps you lie down and you snuggle into the sheets, murmuring one last "I really like you" before falling asleep.
────────
The following days feel almost too good to be real.
You wake up in Jay’s bed, wrapped in his arms and wearing one of his shirts. He always wakes up before you to make breakfast and greet you with a good morning kiss and that smile that still makes your heart flutter. But on some mornings, you pull him back into bed to cuddle before classes and work, and without any argument, he makes time to make you feel loved.
When you get home from class, tired, Jay is already there to greet you cheerfully despite his own exhaustion. He texts you during the day, asking how your classes are going and reminding you to eat. When you are together, he pulls you in for slow, affectionate kisses — the kind that make your legs weak. Some nights you cook together as he tries to teach you how to make proper meals. Other nights he orders takeout and you eat on the couch while you tell him every detail of your day. He still doesn’t share much about himself, always dodging the subject, but you do not push — you don’t want to be invasive.
The sex is frequent — sometimes slow and worshipful, his mouth and hands adoring every inch of you until you are trembling and coming apart. Other times it is faster and more urgent — against the kitchen counter, in the shower, on the couch, in his home office. One night you try baking cookies together, ending up covered in flour and laughing as he kisses the mess off your cheek. Another night you start watching a movie cuddled together, but the movie is forgotten halfway through when clothes come off and he fucks you right there on the couch.
Suddenly everything feels so domestic — he now keeps an extra toothbrush for you, your notebooks are on his coffee table, and some of your clothes are scattered around his apartment. It is undeniable that you are falling deeper and deeper in love.
On a Sunday afternoon, you are studying on his couch while Jay is in his home office, working on a complicated case that demands his full attention. After hours buried in books and notes, concentrating is almost impossible. At this point, your mind keeps wandering to him without permission. When your brain finally gives up, you close the book with a dramatic sigh.
You walk down the hallway and peek into his office. Jay is sitting at his desk with his sleeves rolled up, looking unfairly attractive as he concentrates on reviewing some papers. "Jay?" you call, walking in without waiting for an answer.
He looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, the tension in his shoulders softens. "Hey, princess. How are the studies going?"
Boring." You take a few steps closer and don’t ask for permission — you simply climb into his lap, settling on his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a trail of kisses along his jaw, then his cheek and lips. "I missed you. Pay attention to me? Just for a little while?"
One of his hands rests on your waist while the other continues organizing the documents. "I’d love to, baby, but this case is a nightmare. There are documents everywhere. I’m going crazy with these."
You nuzzle into the curve of his neck and kiss him there. "You’ve been in here for hours… you deserve a break." Your hips move subtly against him, restless, the friction sending a spark through both of you. You feel him twitch beneath you, already starting to respond to your movements.
Jay’s grip on your waist tightens. "Princess…" There is a warning tone in his voice, bordering on frustration. But as you grind against him, you can feel him beginning to harden, and that gives you hope — you think he might give in.
"You’re really testing me today." He pulls you into a kiss, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck. When he pulls away, it is with a frustrated sigh.
"That's the point," you whisper, smiling proudly against his lips as you continue grinding, slower this time, feeling him get even harder.
Jay curses under his breath, gripping your hips more firmly. No matter how hard he tries to hold back, he can’t, the desire is uncontrollable. He reaches between you and unzips his pants. "Fine, but you’re going to behave." He frees his hard, throbbing cock and pulls your panties and shorts to the side. This time there is nothing between you — no latex barrier, just him.
You sink down onto him slowly, and the new sensation hits you immediately — it’s different, hotter, more intimate. Every ridge and vein is raw against your walls, the skin-to-skin contact sends a shiver through your entire body and makes you moan as you settle fully onto him. The stretch feels deeper and more overwhelming than ever.
For a moment, it feels perfect — connected, raw.
But then his hands close firmly on your hips, holding you completely still. "Don’t move," he commands, his voice noticeably deeper and rougher. "Stay just like this. No grinding, no whimpering. I’m serious."
His cock pulses hot and heavy inside you, and you can barely focus on what he said. "Jay… oh my God, you feel—"
"I said don’t move," he interrupts, repeating it more harshly this time. His free hand returns to the stack of papers while the other arm stays wrapped around your waist, keeping you in place.
At first, you try to obey — resting your head on his shoulder and breathing deeply every time his cock twitches inside you, but the longer you sit there, the harder it becomes. You let out a soft moan as your hips twitch involuntarily. "Jay… please, just let me move a little bit."
"I told you not to move. Jesus, you’re really pushing it today." The irritation is clear in every word now, and his grip on your waist tightens even more. "I have a deadline. I can’t afford to get distracted like this."
Again, you try to stay still — you really do, until frustrated tears prick at your eyes — but your body betrays you with small, involuntary movements of your hips. "I’m sorry… I can’t help it. This is driving me crazy. I need you to move, please."
Jay’s jaw is tense and his breathing comes in heavy bursts — clearly fighting the urge to thrust up into you. "You think I don’t want to? You’re so tight and wet around me right now, but I can’t. I have work to do and you’re not letting me focus." His tone grows even harsher. "Stop squirming. Be a good girl for me and just sit there.”
But you do not listen — you roll your hips again, letting out a moan as he rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. "Jesus Christ. I told you I have work and this is fucking important."
"But I missed you and this is torture. Please, please just fu-"
He cuts you off sharply. "You always miss me, always need something. Kisses, hugs, my cock, my fucking attention. You practically live here now, your things are all over my apartment, you sleep in my bed like it’s yours. Isn’t that enough attention? You know what? I need you to get off so I can actually finish this case."
The words hurt, making your chest tighten — tears of frustration turn into something heavier and spill down your cheeks. "I didn’t mean to be annoying… I just wanted to be close to you."
"Yeah, well, wanting to be close to me doesn’t magically make my deadline disappear. I’m already behind because of distractions like this." His hand on your hip tightens even more, holding you completely still, the pressure bordering on uncomfortable. "You have your own apartment right next door. Just give me a few hours alone, for once."
You stare at him in disbelief at what you just heard. Suddenly the intimate position feels humiliating — the way you are still stretched around him while he looks at you like you are nothing but am annoyance. "You want me to leave? Like this… right now"
"I’m telling you to give me some space." With no patience left, he lifts you off him, leaving you empty and trembling. "Go to your place, take a nap, study, whatever. Just let me work."
You stand there with shaky legs, wiping away your tears, feeling small, vulnerable, and unwanted. With a quiet, trembling breath, you whisper, "…Okay."
It's past 9 PM when Jay finally steps out of his office, having finished dealing with that pile of papers. The silence hangs heavy now, normally you would be humming, curled up on the couch waiting for him, or laughing at something silly on your phone. Without you, the space feels too empty. He had been rude — way too rude — and he sees that now. He owes you an apology, so he walks over to your door, but just as he is about to knock, he notices the door is not fully closed — it’s slightly ajar, allowing him to hear low murmurs of voices.
Frowning, he pushes the door open a little more and steps inside, finding a guy standing right at the entrance to your living room, putting on a jacket. The guy turns at the sound of the door, his expression quickly shifting to surprise. "Ah, hi. You must be Jay. She talks about you a lot."
He looks over the other guy’s shoulder toward the couch where you are sitting with your knees pulled up. The guy cleans his throat, sensing the tension between the two of you. "I was just leaving… It was really nice talking to you." He gives you a small wave. "Text me if you need anything else, okay?"
You smile and wave back. "Yeah. Thanks, Jake. Drive safe."
As Jake heads for the door, Jay blocks his path. "Wait. What exactly were you doing here?"
Jake blinks, surprised by the sudden question. "She seemed pretty down when we texted, so I decided to stop by and check if she was okay. Anyway, I’m heading out. Nice to meet you, man."
He steps aside, letting Jake pass. The door closes behind him, leaving just the two of you in the suddenly too-quiet apartment.
You stand up, hugging yourself. "Jay… what are you doing here?"
The regret he felt for being so harsh with you is quickly replaced by jealousy and irritation. "I came because my place was too quiet without you. I started thinking maybe I was too hard on you earlier, but clearly you didn’t waste any time finding company."
You frown, confused by what he means. "He’s just a friend. I told you about him before, we met during my first week on campus when I accidentally walked into the wrong lecture hall. I was upset after you basically kicked me out, so I texted him. We weren’t doing anything, just talking."
Jay lets out a short, bitter laugh and steps closer. "Talking late at night like it’s a casual visit. You mentioned him before, of course, but I didn’t know you two were close enough for house calls."
The hurt from earlier mixes with frustration now. "You were so rude, Jay. You made me feel like I was an annoying pest who can’t function without your attention. I understand you’re stressed with work, but you didn’t have to push me away and kick me out like that. I felt embarrassed."
He closes even more of the distance between you, standing close enough that you can feel the jealousy radiating off him. "You’re the one who can’t sit still for five minutes without demanding something, climbing into my lap while I’m trying to meet a deadline, whimpering and squirming like a spoiled brat because you ‘missed me’."
You take a step back, but the couch hits the back of your legs. "I just wanted to be close to you."
"But the world doesn’t revolve around your need for attention. I love having you around, but today? You made it impossible for me to concentrate, and the second I ask for a few hours to actually get things done, you run straight to this Jake guy?" Jay doesn’t care that nothing happened — the image of another guy in your space, late at night, while you were upset, makes his blood boil.
"I didn’t run to him! I was crying when he got here and he just listened. Unlike you, who basically told me to leave because I’m too much."
Jay’s laugh is harsh this time, completely humorless. "Too much. Yeah, that’s one way of saying you’re a spoiled brat who demands attention every second, and the moment things get difficult, you replace me with whoever is most convenient."
Neither of you speaks for a long moment. You look away, Jay’s jaw clenches, and soon his gaze drifts from your face to the way you are hugging yourself, then lower, lingering on your bare legs. The jealousy is still burning in his chest, mixed with the memory of you sitting on his cock earlier, demanding attention, all needy.
"Come here," he says, nodding toward the couch.
You hesitate, biting your lip, which makes Jay exhale sharply and close the distance. His hand wraps around your wrist, guiding you toward the couch. "We’re not done talking about this."
He sits on the couch and pulls you closer until you are lying across his lap, your stomach pressed against his thighs. Your shirt has ridden up naturally, but he is not satisfied. "This is in the way." His fingers hook into the waistband of your shorts and panties, pulling them down and tossing them aside — leaving your ass completely bare for him.
Jay’s palm rests on one of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh possessively. "You’ve been pushing all day… needing attention, teasing me, and then Jake shows up at your place, and I’m supposed to just swallow that?" His fingers dig harder into the flesh. "You’re mine, and it’s time you learn what happens when you piss me off this much."
His hand makes slow circles over your skin, almost soothing. "How many spanks do you think you deserve for acting like this?"
Your heart races as you try to process his words — head turning slightly to look at him. "What? Are you serious?"
He meets your eyes with a firm, dark expression — one you have never seen from him before. "Very serious. You’ve been spoiled all day, teasing me on purpose. So tell me, how many do you think you deserve?"
You swallow hard, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I don’t know… Five? Maybe?"
Jay lets out a mocking laugh. "Five? That’s way too low, baby. You’re going to take twenty, and you’re going to count each one out loud. If you lose count or mess up, we start over. Understood?"
You hesitate but eventually whisper, "Yes… okay."
"Good girl." His hand lifts and the first spank comes without warning — firm and sharp, the sound echoing through the silence. You jolt, a surprised moan escaping you — heat spreads instantly across your bare skin, the sting stronger than you expected.
"One," you gasp.
He immediately rubs the spot in slow, soothing circles, calming the hot skin where he struck.
"Two," you say after the next spank lands on the other cheek.
Jay keeps a steady rhythm — delivering hard spanks followed by almost tender caresses. Then his fingers slide lower, tracing your wet folds, spreading them teasingly, brushing against your entrance, lightly circling your clit before pulling away.
"What a spoiled little brat," he murmurs during one of the pauses, rubbing your reddened cheeks while two fingers tease your slit again. "You’re already getting so wet… You like this, don’t you?"
You moan instead of answering, which earns you another sharp spank. "Five."
He continues, the spanks leaving marks and building heat across your ass. Now his fingers are dip inside you, moving with slow, shallow thrusts, curling just enough to brush that sensitive spot and make you clench around him desperately. But he always pulls back before you can get close to the edge.
"Six… seven… ah!"
By ten, tears prick your eyes, your thighs trembling as the sting turns into a pulsing heat.
Jay pauses longer this time, massaging your sore ass and spreading your cheeks so he can tease your entrance again. "You’re mine. When you need attention that badly, you come to me, even if I’m stressed, even if I tell you to leave." A finger pushes deep inside you, staying there while his thumb brushes your clit.
You lose track amid the overwhelming sensations and he makes you start over, just as he warned. "Back to one." During the restart, two more fingers slide inside you, moving in a torturous rhythm. "You feel how wet you are? This is what happens when you forget who you belong to."
"You’re mine. Your time, your attention, this body. I don’t share it." Spank. Soothe. Tease. "Say it."
"I’m yours," you moan.
"Louder." Another spank.
"I’m yours, Jay!"
When he finally reaches twenty, you are a trembling mess with tears streaming down your face. Jay finally pulls you up and turns you so you are sitting in his lap. His hands stay on your ass, carefully massaging the sore flesh and you press yourself against the hard bulge in his pants, burying your face in his shoulder. "You did so well, my good girl."
Jay lifts your chin, meeting your eyes. For a moment, he just looks at you — really looks at you — taking in your flushed cheeks and tear-streaked face. Then he leans in and kisses you. One hand remains on your sore ass, squeezing gently, while the other slides into your hair. He kisses you like he needs to claim every part of you — hungry, insistent, his tongue tracing your lower lip before sliding inside. You melt into him, moaning against his mouth as you start slowly grinding your hips.
He pulls back just enough to trail his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the sensitive spot below your ear. "Still so needy… even after all that." Then he kisses you again, deeper and hungrier, tongues sliding together with fervor. The hand on your ass slips between your bodies to tease your wet folds with light circles and shallow dips — keeping you right on the edge.
When he pulls away, a thin string of saliva connects you for a second before breaking. "On your knees, princess."
Obediently, you slide off his lap and kneel between his spread thighs. Jay looks down at you, one hand lazily stroking your hair as he frees himself from his pants — his cock springs out, thick, heavy, and already leaking at the tip.
"Open. Tongue out," he says, tapping your lower lip with two fingers. You open your mouth and obediently stick your tongue out. He leans forward and spits directly into your mouth. The warm, viscous saliva lands on your tongue, degrading in a way that makes you shiver. "Swallow that first," he instructs. You swallow while keeping your eyes locked on his. He nods with a satisfied hum. "Now show me how sorry you are for pushing me today."
You start with kisses along his length before dragging your tongue from base to tip. Jay groans, his fingers tightening in your hair, but he doesn't force you — not yet. His thickness stretches your lips as you finally take him into your mouth. He is big enough that you can only take about half before he hits the back of your throat. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what does not fit in a steady rhythm.
"Fuck… that’s it," he murmurs, tilting his head back for a moment before his gaze returns to you. He doesn't want to miss a single second of this. "Look at me while you suck it."
You do, looking up at him with teary eyes, and the sight makes his cock twitch in your mouth. When you pull back to catch your breath, he slaps his cock against your tongue a few times, leaving strings of saliva connecting you, before guiding you back down. "Yeah, just like that… good girl."
Between bobs, when you pull back to breathe, you say breathlessly, "I’m sorry for distracting you and for Jake being here." Then he guides you down again.
Jay’s hips start moving, pushing a little deeper and testing your limits. Tears continue to prick your eyes from the stretch, but you keep going, hollowing your cheeks and moaning around him.
When he finally gets close, Jay’s grip tightens, his thighs tense, and his breathing becomes ragged. "I’m going to come. Don’t waste it, swallow everything." You nod around him, doubling your efforts and with a deep groan, he comes down your throat — thick, hot pulses that you swallow eagerly, not letting a single drop escape.
He pulls out slowly, a string of saliva and cum connecting your lips to the tip before it breaks. "Open your mouth. Show me."
You open your mouth, sticking your tongue out to prove you swallowed everything. “That’s my good girl.”
He helps you up, pulls you back into his lap, and kisses you, tasting himself on your tongue. Your hips start moving on their own, pressing against the growing hardness beneath you that makes Jay groan into your mouth, one hand sliding down to grab your bare ass and guide your movements.
"Still not satisfied? Such a greedy little thing." Even though he just came, his cock is already stirring again, hardening beneath you as your wet pussy slides along his length.
You gasp against his mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders. "Jay… I need you so bad."
He answers by kissing you again, but soon pulls back to meet your eyes. "Then take what you want."
You don’t hesitate, not even for a second. Rising on shaky knees, you reach down and align the thick head of his cock against your entrance, and slowly you sink down, gasping at the stretch and every inch that fills you. The lack of a barrier makes him feel impossibly thicker than the last time in his office — hotter, more intimate. The spanked skin of your ass burns as you settle fully against his thighs.
"Fuck," Jay hisses, his head falling back against the couch for a moment as his hands grip your hips hard enough to leave bruises, holding you fully impaled on him. "So wet… so fucking tight like this."
You start moving, rolling your hips in a slow, deep rhythm, the angle letting you feel every ridge and vein raw inside you, pulling broken moans from your throat. One of his hands slips under your shirt to caress one tit while the other stays on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh in time with your movements. The mix of pleasure and stinging burn makes everything more intense.
"That’s right," he growls, thrusting up to meet you. "This is what you wanted all day, isn’t it? My attention. My cock." You lean forward, kissing him messily while you bounce, moving your hips faster.
With a low curse, he wraps his arms around you and suddenly flips you, laying you down on the couch cushions, driving him even deeper which pulls a sharp cry from you.
Now he is on top, pinning you beneath him — one of your legs hooked over his shoulder as he starts thrusting into you with deep, powerful strokes — hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt each time and the lack of a condom lets you feel every raw inch.
Clinging to his back, your nails dig in as the pleasure borders on overwhelming. Jay’s face hovers above yours, his hair damp with sweat falling into his eyes. Rhythm falters for a second as he looks at you, something darker flashing across his face, the jealousy from earlier — the image of Jake leaving your apartment — has not disappeared. "Are you on the pill?"
You shake your head, breathless, barely able to form words between moans. "No, I’m not."
He thrusts harder, hitting deep against your cervix as if to emphasize the point. "Good," he growls, eyes locked on yours. "Actually, fucking perfect. Maybe I’ll knock you up tonight, put a baby in you so you won’t even think about another guy like Jake. You’ll stay right here with me, we’ll have a beautiful family, me, you, and our kids. No more distractions."
The words should have shocked you, but in the heat of the moment — with him fucking you raw, his body claiming yours completely — they only send a fresh wave of arousal through you. Moaning loudly, your legs tightening around his waist. "Jay… fuck—"
He groans at your reaction, his hips moving harder. "You like that idea, don’t you? My cum deep inside you, getting you pregnant so everyone knows you’re claimed." One of his hands slides down to press lightly against your stomach, as if he can already imagine it.
The couch creaks beneath you both, the sound of skin slapping against skin and the wet noises of him fucking you filling the room. Jay’s earlier irritation fuels every deep thrust, but so does possessiveness — the need to claim you completely after the stressful day. He presses you deeper into the cushions, his hips moving in a way that grinds against your clit with every stroke.
When you finally come, it is intense — your walls contracting tightly around his cock as you scream his name. Jay follows right after, burying himself as deep as possible, and you feel the hot pulses of his cum filling you, thick and warm.
For long minutes, Jay simply holds you — kissing your neck, your jaw, your swollen lips — his cock softening slowly inside you, but as the minutes stretch on, you feel him coming back to life, pulsing against your sensitive walls. "Already?" There is a playful tone in your voice.
"I can’t help it." He moves, pressing one last kiss to your mouth before slowly pulling out. You moan at the loss, feeling his cum start to leak out of you, but his hand quickly reaches down to push it back inside you with two fingers. "Don’t waste it."
He leans back on the couch, stroking himself until he is fully hard again. "Turn around. Hands on the backrest."
You obey, your body trembling as you shift position, kneeling on the cushions, gripping the top of the backrest and arching your back slightly while Jay moves behind you, his gaze fixed on the evidence of the earlier spanking — your cheeks still red with visible handprints — as one of his palms smooths reverently over the heated skin before squeezing firmly.
"Fuck, look at this… Still so red from your lesson." His cock brushes against your entrance before he thrusts deep inside you in one powerful stroke, the new position letting him sink even deeper as the head of his cock presses against spots that make your toes curl drawing a loud moan from you while you grip the backrest tighter as he bottoms out.
Jay starts fucking you with firm, powerful thrusts — deep and deliberate, the couch creaking beneath you both — as every thrust makes your sore ass bounce and the red marks darken even more with the impact, his eyes unable to leave them while his thumbs press into the soft flesh, pulling you back onto his cock repeatedly.
"These marks… they look so good on you." Without warning, he lands a hard, stinging spank on your right cheek, the already sensitive skin making you cry out and clench hard around his cock as Jay groans at the sensation, his hips stuttering for a moment before he resumes his deep rhythm.
He gives your left cheek another spank, making you writhe and moan again as you push back against him desperately despite the burn — or maybe because of it — the mix of pain and pleasure making you even wetter, the previous creampie turning everything obscenely wet and messy.
"That’s it," he praises, smoothing his hands over the fresh marks he just added. "Squirm for me. I love how sensitive you are right here." He gives you one more spank, lighter this time but still enough to make you shudder, and immediately soothes the area with his hands, massaging the sore flesh while he continues thrusting deep and hard from behind.
Jay leans over you, bracing one hand on the back of the couch beside yours while the other reaches down to rub tight circles on your clit. His chest presses against your back, his lips brushing your ear as he speaks between thrusts. "You’re going to take every drop again, princess. I’m going to give you my babies, keep you so full you won’t even think about anyone else."
When you come again — hard, your vision blurring from the overwhelming sensations — Jay follows right behind, burying himself deep with a groan and flooding you with another load of hot cum. He stays inside you for a long time afterward, thrusting slowly through the aftershocks.
Finally, he pulls out carefully and pulls you into his arms, stroking your back in slow, gentle movements. "You’re a mess, princess. Come on, let me take care of you."
He stands up with you in his arms and carries you to the bathroom. Once inside, he turns on the shower, adjusts the temperature, and removes the rest of both your clothes before guiding you under the hot spray with him where the water cascades over you both. Jay takes his body wash, lathers it between his hands, and runs them over your skin — being extra careful around your sensitive ass, massaging the foam in light circles that ease some of the sting.
"Maybe I was a little too rough tonight," he says, his hands moving along your thighs, cleaning away the evidence of the many rounds. "Work stress got to me, and then seeing Jake… I took it out on you more than I should have. You handled it really well, but I’m sorry if it was too much."
You lean back against his chest, letting the water rinse off the soap as you tilt your head to look at him. "It hurt… but it also felt good. In a weird way. I just hated feeling like I was bothering you earlier. I didn’t want to annoy you while you were working. I just… missed you a lot."
After rinsing you, he turns off the shower, wraps you in a towel first, then himself and dries you carefully, paying extra attention to your ass and rubbing some soothing lotion he finds in the cabinet. "There. Better?"
"Much better," you admit, reaching up to touch his face. "Thank you for taking care of me like this."
He leans down and kisses your forehead. "You make it easy to want to take care of you." Pulling you closer, his voice shifting to something even calmer and more sincere. "I don’t know what I’d do without you around. I can’t imagine coming home and not having you here like this. You just… fit. Right here with me."
You hug him tightly, burying your face in his chest. "I feel the same. I always want to be close to you because you make everything feel better."
Smiling against your hair, Jay guides you to the bed and pulls the covers back, lying down beside you to pull you close against his chest. One arm wraps around you securely, his hand rests gently on your ass — not squeezing, just warm and protective over the sensitive skin.
You snuggle even closer, your leg draped over his as exhaustion finally takes over completely. "Stay the night?" you ask sleepily.
"Wouldn’t dream of leaving," His fingers trace lazy circles on your back until your breathing evens out and you fall asleep.
Next morning you stir slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in your muscles and Jay’s heavy arm draped over your waist, his body curled protectively against your back. He feels you waking up and trails lazy kisses along your shoulder before moving up the side of your neck. "Good morning, baby," he murmurs, his voice still rough with sleep as his hand slides to your stomach. "Sleep well?"
You turn in his arms, smiling despite the slight soreness when you move, and reach up to brush the messy hair from his forehead. "Yes… thanks to you."
He leans in and kisses you properly — slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that makes you melt. At this point, he couldn't care less that neither of you had brushed your teeth yet. "You were incredible last night. Let me make it up to you a little more with breakfast."
Jay borrows a pair of your sweatpants that look comically tight on his incredibly nice ass, making you laugh as he models them. In the kitchen, you work side by side like so many mornings before — he cracks eggs for scrambled eggs while you toast bread and slice fruit. Small touches are stolen throughout: a hand on your lower back as he reaches past you, a quick kiss on your temple when you hand him the salt shaker, a playful bump of his hip against yours.
"You’re in a good mood today," you tease, leaning against the counter while he plates the food.
"I can’t help it when I wake up next to you." He sets the plates on the table and pulls you in for another kiss before you both sit down.
After eating, you start getting ready for college and he for the office. Jay kisses you one more time before heading back to his apartment next door to get ready for work. You take a long shower and, once dressed in jeans and a comfortable blouse, you step out into the hallway at the same time he does, looking impeccable in his work clothes.
He quickly pulls you in for a proper goodbye, hands gently cradling your face as he kiss your forehead, lingering there for a long moment. "Have a good day at class. Text me when you’re done." With one last soft kiss on your lips, he pulls away with a smile. "See you later, princess."
College passes in a whirlwind of classes and notes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Jay — the way he holds you, the sweet words, the kisses. He has not sent many messages during the day, which is a little unusual, but you figure he must be busy at work.
When you finally get home in the early evening, you step into the elevator and press the button for the third floor. Just before the doors close, a woman you have never seen in the building before enters, but something about her face seems vaguely familiar.
The woman smiles politely as the elevator starts moving. Curiosity gets the better of you and before you can stop yourself, you ask, "Hi… do you live here? I’ve been in the building for about two months and I don’t think I’ve seen you around."
She nods, laughing lightly. "Yes, I do, but I’ve been away on a work trip. I’m a lawyer and a complicated case kept me out of town longer than expected. I actually got back this morning."
"Wow. That sounds intense… By the way, my name is y/n. Nice to meet you."
The woman’s smile widens. "Nice to meet you too. Jay has already told me about you. He’s mentioned his sweet neighbor a few times."
Your heart flutters with joy — Jay talked about you to the neighbors. It feels special, like proof that you are really becoming a bigger part of his life. "He did? That’s nice to hear."
The elevator dings on the third floor and you both step out together. A small flicker of confusion crosses your mind — she is going the same way — but you don’t think much of it. Maybe she lives farther down the hall.
Then you see Jay standing there and your face lights up immediately. He hadn't texted you all day, and seeing him now makes excitement bubble up inside you. You walk toward him with a radiant smile.
At the same moment, the woman also walks straight up to him. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him — a deep, familiar, affectionate kiss. Jay’s hands settle on her waist automatically as he eagerly kisses her back.
The world stops.
Your feet freeze mid-step and everything inside you turns cold and numb. It takes a moment for your brain to process what you are seeing, but then the pieces fall into place with painful clarity. That was Jay’s wife. The woman in the Polaroid photo he casually said was his "sister." The late-night calls he claimed were from the office. The feminine body wash he said belonged to his mom. The distant restaurant he took you to on your first date, probably so no one nearby would recognize him. The way the doorman sometimes looked at you with that judgmental expression, like he knew something — he did. All the small inconsistencies you had ignored because you were so blinded by how gentle and attentive he seemed.
Every sweet word, every touch, every promise of "you’re mine" had been built on lies. He was married. His heart already belonged to someone else, and you had been nothing but a convenient distraction from the apartment next door — blind, eager, and so in love with the version of him he showed you that you never saw the truth.
Jay’s eyes meet yours over his wife’s shoulder, and for a fraction of a second, something like panic or guilt flashes across his face. The shock turns into pure pain, making you practically run to your door as you fumble for your keys while hot tears blur your vision.
You lean against the door, sliding down to the floor as sobs begin to escape you. Your chest hurts as if someone had ripped a hole in it. All the cute moments — the kisses, the touches, the date, the bouquet — turn ugly and humiliating in your memory.
You cry hard, knees pulled up to your chest, as disappointment turns into shame for having fallen so completely for the man who made you feel special, desired, and loved… and it was all a lie.
The thin walls allow you to hear muffled voices — his wife asking about his day, the normalcy of their conversation only making everything worse. You press your hands over your ears, trying to block out the sound, but the damage is already done. Your heart is shattered.
The man you had grown so attached to — the one who held you so tenderly after sex, who made you breakfast and promised more comfortable days like that — was someone else’s husband, and you had been the other woman without even knowing it.
pairing: husband!jay x chubby!reader || wc: 1.4k || cw: smut! established relationship, kissing, fingering, oral (f rec.), nipple/clit play, p in v, unprotected sex (don't.), creampie, praise, body worship, slight overstimulation, dirty talk, strong language, use of petnames || warnings: +18 content, mdni! || a/n: this is so sweet and fluffy, thank you anomie for the request 🥹
the ballroom shines under crystal chandeliers, but jay only has eyes for you.
you stand beside him in a deep emerald gown that hugs your curves beautifully. the fabric flows over your slightly chubby figure like liquid silk, accentuating the soft swell of your belly, the fullness of your breasts, and the plush thickness of your thighs. your hair is styled elegantly, and the delicate makeup makes your eyes sparkle.
to jay, you look like a goddess.
“god, you’re stunning tonight,” he whispers in your ear during a quiet moment, his hand resting possessively on your lower back. “i can’t stop staring at my wife.”
you blush, gently nudging him. “stop, we’re in public.”
“i don’t care,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “let them stare. you’re the most beautiful woman here.”
the party goes on, but the tension between you two only grows. every time jay looks at you, his gaze lingers on the way the dress clung to your body, how your breasts presses against the neckline, how your hips sway when you walk. by the time the event ends, the air between you feels electric.
instead of heading straight to the car, jay takes your hand and leads you outside into the quiet gardens behind the venue.
“it’s peaceful out here,” he says softly, pulling you close as you walk along the moonlit path. “we barely get moments like this since our little one was born. i missed this… just us.”
you lean into him, smiling. “me too. i love being a mom, but i miss slow nights with you.”
the garden is empty and quiet. jay spots a flowering tree nearby and, with a mischievous grin, reaches up and plucks a couple of delicate white flowers.
“jay! you can’t just—”
“shh, no one’s looking,” he chuckles, tucking one gently behind your ear. he steps back to admire you, eyes soft with adoration. “there. my beautiful wife with flowers in her hair. you look like a dream.”
your heart flutters. he leans in and kisses you slowly under the moonlight, hands cupping your face like you are precious.
because, at least to him, you truly are.
your feet start aching after a while in your heels. without a word, jay scoops you up bridal-style, carrying you effortlessly towards the parking lot.
“jay, put me down! i’m too heavy—” you protests, cheeks burning.
“you’re perfect,” he says firmly, kissing your forehead. “and i love carrying my wife. let me take care of you.”
he carries you all the way to the car, only setting you down once you reach it. instead of taking the usual route home, jay chooses the longer scenic road, one hand resting on your thigh the entire drive, fingers occasionally tracing soft circles on your skin. the quiet music and city lights passing by make everything feel intimate.
when you finally arrive home, the house is silent — your toddler is staying with jay’s parents for the night. you head straight to the bedroom and sit at your vanity table, beginning to remove your jewelry.
“jay?” you call softly. “can you help me unzip my dress, baby? i can’t reach it.”
he appears behind you in the mirror, eyes dark as he slowly drags the zipper down your back. the emerald fabric parts, revealing your smooth skin. the dress pools at your waist, leaving you in just your strapless bra and panties.
jay’s hands linger on your shoulders. “you look incredible in this dress… but you look even better out of it.”
he leans down and kisses the side of your neck, then your shoulder. you tilt your head, giving him more access. the kiss deepens quickly. jay turns your chair around and pulls you up into a heated kiss, tongues sliding together as he backs you against the vanity table.
your hands fumble with his shirt buttons while he lifts you onto the table, stepping between your legs. makeup brushes and jewelry scattered as he kisses you desperately, hands roaming over your body.
“been wanting you all night,” he growls against your lips. “you have no idea what this gown did to me. the way it hugged your beautiful belly… your thighs… your breasts… i'm obsessed, baby.”
he kisses down your neck to your chest, pulling your bra down so your full breasts spill out. jay groans at the sight, cupping them with both hands.
“fuck, i love these,” he whispers, voice thick with lust. he leans in and takes one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently while his thumb circles the other. you moan, back arching as he worships your breasts with lips, tongue, and soft praises.
“so perfect… so soft… all mine.”
he helps you off the vanity and guides you to the bed, laying you down gently. jay removes the rest of his clothes and your dress completely, then settles between your thighs.
he kisses every inch of you — starting with your wrists, pressing soft open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin there, then moving down to your navel. he spends extra time there, licking and kissing the soft curve of your belly with so much love it almost makes your chest ache.
“i love this belly,” he murmurs, nipping gently. “love how it feels under my hands. love that it carried our son. it's so fucking beautiful.”
he moves lower, spreading your thighs wide and kissing the plush flesh there. “these thighs drive me crazy. so thick and soft… i could bury my face in them forever.”
finally, he reaches your core. jay looks up at you with dark, hungry eyes before diving in. his tongue licks a slow, broad stripe up your pussy, then focuses on your clit, sucking gently while two fingers push inside you.
you cry out, fingers threading through his hair as he eats you out with devotion. he moanes against you, the vibrations sending sparks through your body.
“you taste so good, baby. so wet for me already.”
he adds a third finger, curling them perfectly while his tongue flicks rapidly over your clit. your thighs tremble around his head as you come hard, moaning his name loudly.
jay doesn't stop. he keeps licking you through the aftershocks, gentling his touches until you are whimpering.
he finally crawls up your body, kissing your belly, your breasts, your neck, and finally your lips as he positions himself between your legs.
“i need you,” he whispers, rubbing his cock against your soaked folds. “want to feel you around me.”
you nod eagerly. jay pushes in slowly, savoring every inch until he's buried deep inside you. both of you moan at the feeling.
“fuck… you're so tight and warm,” he groans. he starts moving in deep, steady thrusts, missionary so he can look into your eyes and kiss you constantly.
jay worships you the entire time — hands kneading your breasts, lips sucking on your nipples, fingers occasionally rubbing your clit. he kisses your wrists again, then your belly, all while thrusting deeply.
“you’re so beautiful,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours. “every part of you. your soft belly, your thick thighs squeezing me, your perfect tits bouncing every time i fuck you… i’m so in love with you.”
his pace quickens, hips snapping harder as pleasure builds again. you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.
“jay— i’m close again—”
“cum for me, baby. let me feel you.”
you shatter around him, clenching tightly. jay follows right after, burying himself deep with a broken moan as he fills you with warm spurts of cum. he keeps thrusting slowly, pushing his release deeper while kissing you through both your highs.
afterwards, jay collapses beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, holding you close. he strokes your hair, kisses your forehead, and whispers sweet praises.
“you were perfect tonight,” he murmurs, hand gently rubbing your belly. “my gorgeous wife. i love every single part of you.”
you smile sleepily, cuddling into his chest. “i love you too. thank you for tonight… for carrying me, for the flower, for everything.”
jay chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. “anything for you. always.”
he gets up briefly to bring a warm towel, cleaning you gently before pulling the covers over both of you. you fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms, the memory of the gown, the moonlight, and the flowers lingering sweetly between you.
warnings: mdni! sexual content, teasing, sexual tension, teasing, edging, degradation, mocking, use of pet names, reader rides his guitar, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it), rough sex, reader is desperate, light choking, crying during sex, creampie.
wc: 16.2k
note: ngl i wrote this for myself (and kind of for this req too). i think i love writing about pathetic yearners because i myself have never fallen in love LMAOOO 😭 i stayed up a whole night just to finish this so i hope it's good...........
for a long time, you had thought you were just waiting for the right kind of soft.
you had tried, too. you had allowed yourself to be taken out to quiet dinners, had sat under warm porch lights, listening to men talk about their lives with gentle, earnest eyes. you had let them hold your hand across small wooden tables, feeling the steady warmth of their palms, and you had waited. you had waited for that sudden shift in the air, that secret hum in the gut that people spent their whole lives writing songs about.
but every time someone leaned in, every time warm lips pressed against yours in the cool night air, it had felt like nothing at all. dry skin against dry skin. a strange, mechanical stillness. it was like watching a match strike through a thick sheet of glass. you could see the heat, could acknowledge the flame, but not a single spark ever managed to reach your skin.
the panic had been quiet at first, a slow burning ache in the back of your throat, before it turned into something suffocating. it wasn't that you were picky. it wasn't that you were holding out for some cinematic ideal. it was the lonely realization that the mechanism inside you was simply broken. your chest was an empty room, dark and quiet, while everyone else seemed to be burning alive.
eventually, you had stopped trying to force a pulse out of stone. you had accepted the dull safety of your own mind.
working at the dive bar had made it easier to forget. the place was always loud enough to drown out the quiet inside your head — sticky floors, the sharp tang of spilt rye, and the dense humidity of too many bodies packed into a low-ceilinged room. you moved through the crowds with a tray tucked under your arm, brushing off clumsy jokes and easy smiles with a polite curve of your lips that never quite reached your eyes. you watched people fall apart over each other every weekend, tangling their fingers together in the dark corners, and you felt like a ghost observing a world you weren't allowed to touch.
watching them was a quiet kind of grief. there was something raw and messy — and violently alive — about the way strangers reached for each other under those flickering neon lights. a bruised knee knocking against another beneath a booth, teeth catching on a lower lip, two people leaning into each other’s space like the air everywhere else was unbreathable. they looked desperate. they looked reckless and stupid and completely undone.
and every time you wove through the narrow aisles with a tray of empty pint glasses, you felt the cold weight of your own detachment settle deeper into your marrow.
you wanted to hate them for it. you wanted to pretend you were above the embarrassing, chaotic urge to give yourself away to someone else. but you weren't above it. you were just locked out.
you had been entirely immune to it all, safe behind the glass, until thursdays started feeling different.
it hadn't happened all at once. it began with the heavy thud of sound equipment being dragged through the alley door, the sudden smell of rain and cheap tobacco cutting through the stale beer. you hadn't even looked at the stage the first night his band played. you had just been standing by the service well, wiping down a greasy counter, when a low, dirty frequency had bled out of the speakers. it was a vibration so deep it didn't just rattle the floorboards under your sneakers, it had settled directly into the hollow space behind your ribs, making your breath hitch in the dark.
you had looked up then. through the shifting haze of blue stage lights and the dull fog of the bar, your eyes caught on the guitarist.
he wasn't trying to pull the room's attention. he didn't have that loud need to be perceived that ruined most musicians who played there. he was just leaning over his instrument like it was the only thing in the room keeping him anchored, dark hair falling across his forehead, casting shadows over sharp features. he wasn't putting on a show. he just played.
when the song ended, he didn't bask in the scattered applause. he just turned his head, exchanged a low, private word with the drummer, and offered a fleeting curve of his mouth that vanished as quickly as it appeared.
and there, standing by the soda gun with a damp rag clutched in your fist, you felt it.
a crack.
it wasn't an explosion. it wasn't a roaring fire. it was just a tiny fracture in the thick glass that had kept you numb for years. a sudden rush of heat that bloomed at the base of your throat and travelled all the way down to your fingertips. you had swallowed hard, your pulse suddenly loud in your own ears, completely paralyzed by the sheer shock of simply feeling something.
you didn't know his name. you didn't know anything about him. but for the rest of your shift, you couldn't stop your eyes from drifting back to the stage.
it started like that. a silent, harmless curiosity.
but as the thursdays bled into each other, the curiosity hardened into something heavier. you learned his name was jay only because you overheard the bartender shouting it over the noise to hand him his tab. you learned that he drank his whiskey neat, that he had a habit of rolling his sleeves up just below the elbow, and that he existed inside a quiet, untouchable bubble.
he had a pull to him, a natural magnetism that drew people in, but he never seemed to entertain it for long. you watched people try their luck after sets — sliding up to the edge of the stage, offering glossy smiles and lingering touches. he wasn't cold, exactly. he would offer a polite nod, maybe a brief response that you couldn't hear over the music, but he never seemed to let anyone in. he always stepped neatly out of their gravity, turning back to pack up his pedals or heading out the back door to smoke with his bandmates. he was polite, but entirely walled off. a mystery that didn't want to be solved.
and slowly, you found yourself sinking into it.
it was a quiet kind of admiration. the kind that crept up on you in the dead spaces of your shift. you found yourself tracking him in your periphery, anticipating the exact moment he would walk through the front door with his guitar case. you memorized the way his hands moved over the frets, the way his jaw set when he was concentrating, the low, raspy pitch of his voice when he occasionally leaned into the microphone for backing vocals.
you made peace with the silence of it. you didn't need to be the person who walked up to him, you were content to stay behind the bar. it didn't matter that he barely looked your way, or that to him, you were probably just a passing blur in an apron clearing empty pint glasses from his table.
it was a one-sided devotion, completely hidden in the dark. but after years of feeling nothing at all, the sweet ache of simply wanting him was a relief. you finally had a pulse, and you guarded that secret bruise with everything you had.
it became a rhythm you lived by. the rest of your week felt like empty space, a dull stretch of days you just had to wade through until thursday rolled around. you started noticing intricate things. like how the faulty neon sign in the window cast a reddish glow over his leather jacket when he stood by the door. or how he tapped his boot against the base of the mic stand before the first song. the heavy silver rings on his right hand too, dull and scratched under the stage lights.
you felt hyper-aware whenever he was in the building, walking through the room like your skin was suddenly too thin. every time you had to walk past the stage to serve the front booths, your shoulders stiffened and your breath turned shallow. you wondered if everyone could see it — this glaring spotlight of a crush burning inside your chest. but no one noticed. especially not him.
the first time he actually spoke to you, it was entirely mundane.
it happened on a night when the heating in the bar had broken. the air was stifling, thick with humidity and the smell of warm beer. he had just finished his set, leaving his guitar on the stand, and instead of heading out to the alley, he walked straight toward the narrow stretch of the service well where you were refilling the garnish trays.
you didn't hear him approach over the sudden noise of the jukebox filling the silence. you just turned around with a plastic container of sliced limes, and he was suddenly there, leaning a casual arm against the dark wood of the bar.
up close, the sheer gravity of him was suffocating. you could smell the faint trace of tobacco clinging to his clothes, mixed with something clean and sharp beneath it. your heart gave a panicked lurch, hammering against your ribs so hard you thought he might hear it.
"hey." he said. his voice was raspy from singing, carrying that same effortless cadence he used with everyone. "could i just get some water?"
you froze. the container of limes suddenly felt heavy in your hands. out of all the desperate, ridiculous scenarios you had accidentally imagined, simply handing him water hadn't been one of them.
"yeah." you managed to say, but your voice came out thin, strained.
you felt the heat rush violently to your cheeks as you spun back around, fumbling for a clean glass. your fingers were suddenly clumsy, stupid, completely betraying you. you dropped an ice cube on the rubber mat and nearly missed the glass with the soda gun.
he didn't seem to notice your quiet spiral. or if he did, he didn't care. he just waited, looking past you, his dark eyes casually scanning the row of liquor bottles on the shelf, completely untethered, completely calm. to him, this was nothing. just a pit stop.
you set the glass down in front of him, a little too abruptly, water sloshing perilously close to the rim.
"sorry." you mumbled, wiping your trembling hands hastily on your apron, wanting nothing more than for the floorboards to open up and swallow you whole.
he didn't bat an eye. he just pulled the glass toward him, offering that same polite nod he gave everyone else, treating you exactly the way he treated the sound guy, the bouncer, the rest of the world.
"thanks." he murmured.
and then he turned around and walked back to his bandmates, taking all the air in the room with him.
he hadn't lingered. he hadn't really looked at you. the interaction had lasted less than thirty seconds. but as you stood there, gripping the edge of the service well with white knuckles, your chest was heaving like you had just run a marathon.
you felt pathetic. utterly ruined by a man who was just thirsty. but those thirty seconds sustained you for a month.
you hated yourself for it. you spent the following weeks dissecting the interaction until there was nothing left but the humiliating reality that you had practically trembled in front of him, and he hadn't even perceived you as a person. you were just a function. a pair of hands that delivered his glass.
but then, it became a routine.
the next thursday, after the first set, he didn't go to the alley. he didn't go to the wider, less crowded side of the bar where the other bartender was standing idly. he walked straight through the crowd and stopped at your cramped corner of the service well.
he didn't say hey this time. he just leaned his forearms against the sticky wood, his dark eyes fixed on the dirty mirror behind the liquor shelf, and tapped his silver-ringed fingers once against the rubber bar mat.
you didn't ask what he wanted. you just reached for a clean glass, your chest tightening painfully, and poured the water.
he took it, gave that same detached nod, and walked away.
it turned into a brutal, silent arrangement. every week, he would come to your exact corner. he never asked your name. he never asked how your shift was going. to you, it felt like you were entirely invisible, just a convenient fixture in the background of his night. he would stand there, chest heaving slightly from the performance, smelling of smoke and sweat, taking up all the oxygen in your immediate radius.
sometimes he would drink it right there, turning his back to you to lean against the bar and survey the room. you would stand inches behind him, trying to remember how to breathe, wiping the same spot on the stainless steel counter over and over just to have something to do with your hands.
it was toxic, this tiny sliver of proximity. you were starving, and he was dropping crumbs without even looking down to see what was eating them.
you rationalized it, of course. it was obviously just convenience. he was a creature of habit. he came to your well because he knew you wouldn't bother him, wouldn't try to touch his arm or shout over the music like the people who hovered near the stage. he came to you because you were practically a ghost. you offered no resistance, no annoying conversation. you were just a silent dispenser of whatever he needed.
but god, you started living for those quiet, devastating minutes.
you started making sure you were anchored at the well right before his set ended, ensuring you wouldn't be called away to a table. you started wearing a little more perfume on thursdays, putting on a darker shade of lip balm, hoping that maybe, just once, his dark eyes would snag on you for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
they never did. his gaze always slid right past you, completely blank, completely untethered.
the worst part was the accidental touches. it didn't happen often — maybe three times over the course of two months. you would slide the cold glass across the wood, and his large fingers would reach out to take it, the rough pad of his thumb grazing your knuckles.
it was always an accident. it had to be. he would pull the glass away with that same maddening expression, completely unaffected, while the brief contact sent a violent shockwave straight up your arm. your skin would burn for hours where he had touched you for less than a second.
you would spend the rest of the night clutching your serving tray against your ribs, nursing the humiliating agony of knowing that you were completely consumed by a man who couldn't even pick you out of a lineup. you were letting him ruin you, and he didn't even know he was doing it.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
it was a rainy mid-november thursday, past two in the morning, and the bar had emptied out into the storm outside. the jukebox was off, leaving only the low hum of the beer fridges and the rhythmic patter of rain against the grimy back window. the other bartender had gone to the back office to count the drawer, leaving you alone to wipe down the sticky surfaces.
he hadn't left with his band. he was sitting on a high stool at the far edge of your well, his leather jacket damp from the rain, spinning a wooden match between his fingers.
you were trying to keep your hands busy, rinsing glasses in the sink, your pulse doing that familiar dance against your ribs just knowing he was sitting three feet away. you kept your head down, tucked behind the shield of your hair, praying your face wasn't as flushed as it felt.
when you finally moved to clear the counter in front of him, you reached out to take his empty glass.
his fingers were still loosely curled around the base of the heavy tumbler. you hesitated for a fraction of a second, your breath catching, before carefully reaching for the rim. but as you pulled it toward you, the back of your knuckles brushed against the side of his hand. a tiny, accidental touch.
you froze, expecting him to pull away like he usually did. but he didn't move. instead, he slowly lifted his head. for the first time in months, his heavy lidded eyes travelled up from the wood of the counter and locked directly onto yours.
the world narrowed down to the space between you. up close, in the dim red light of the neon sign, you could see the sharp line of his jaw, the faint crease between his brows, the intoxicating weight of his focus. it was like breathing in smoke.
he didn't look angry, or amused, or bored. he just looked at you, his gaze steady and quiet, taking you in while your lungs completely locked up.
"you got a light?" he asked. his voice was a low rasp, stripped of the stage's volume, vibrating softly in the empty room. it hit you right in the center of your chest.
"uh…" you stammered, your voice pathetically small. "yeah. yeah, under the register."
you turned around too fast, your hands trembling so violently you almost knocked over a bottle of bitters. you fumbled beneath the counter, your heart hammering against your collarbone like a trapped bird, before your fingers finally caught a small cardboard matchbook.
when you turned back, he was watching you. not with impatience, but with a slow quiet that made your skin prickle with heat.
you reached across the bar, extending the matches. instead of taking the book by the edge, his calloused hand closed around yours, his thumb brushing over the knuckles of your fingers to take it from your grip. the heat of his skin was shocking, a searing contrast to the cold glass you had been washing.
he didn't let go instantly. for two agonizing seconds, his fingers lingered against yours, holding the matchbook — and your hand — between you.
and then, he pulled back.
you stood there, gripping the edge of the sink behind you with white knuckles, unable to move, unable to think. you watched as he struck the match. the sharp tang of sulfur filled the space between you, the tiny orange flame illuminating the sharp planes of his face for a split second before he brought it to the tip of his cigarette.
he took a slow drag, blew a thin trail of smoke toward the ceiling, and tossed the matchbook back onto the wet wood of the bar.
"thanks." he murmured, his eyes lingering on yours for just one more endless beat.
he slid off the stool, pulling his jacket tighter around his shoulders, and walked toward the alley exit without another word. the heavy door clicked shut behind him, leaving you alone in the quiet bar with the smell of sweet tobacco and sulfur hanging thick in the air.
you sank against the counter, your knees weak, pressing your burning palm against your chest. you didn't know what it meant. you didn't know if he was just being polite, or if he even remembered your face now that he was out in the rain. but as you stood there in the dark, gasping for air, you knew one thing for certain — the quiet bruise of wanting him had just turned into a fire you had no idea how to put out.
you took the matchbook off the wet bar before you locked up that night. you tucked it into the breast pocket of your apron like a stolen secret, your thumb smoothing over the damp cardboard all the way home on the late night bus. in your small, quiet bedroom, you put it on your nightstand, next to your bed, staring at the charred tips of the few burned matches inside until your eyes burned. it was pathetic. it was the most humiliating thing you had ever done — practically building an altar out of a stranger’s trash.
but the next thursday, the air in the bar felt fundamentally altered.
the invisible line had been crossed, and even if you tried to convince yourself it was all in your head, you couldn’t help feeling hopeful. when his band took the stage, you couldn't even pretend to do your job properly. every muscle in your back was locked, your skin humming with a terrible awareness.
and then, halfway through their third song, it happened.
jay was leaning into a slow riff, his dark hair falling over his face in a beautiful way, when his head tilted. he didn't look at the drunks by the stage. he didn't look at his pedals. his dark, hooded eyes swept straight across the crowded room and locked onto you, standing frozen by the ice well.
it lasted two seconds. maybe three. just an unblinking hold through the blue stage smoke before he looked back down at his guitar.
your breath hitched so hard you choked on it. you backed into the stainless steel counter, hands gripping the edge, telling yourself you were delusional. he was just looking at the clock behind you. he was just scanning the room. he doesn't see you. but it all tasted bitter in your mouth, because the heat in your face was real, and your heart was hammering a desperate rhythm against your ribs.
when the set ended, he didn't wait for the bar to clear out.
he walked straight to your well while the room was still loud and chaotic. he stepped right up to the narrow gap in the counter where you were standing, taking up every inch of space, leaning his forearms over the wood until he was lingering directly in your personal bubble.
up close, the smell of him — stale rain, sweet tobacco, and warm skin — was an absolute sensory assault.
you didn't wait for him to speak. with trembling fingers, you quickly reached for a clean glass and filled it from the pitcher, sliding it toward him without meeting his eyes. "here." you whispered, your voice barely audible over the jukebox.
but he didn't take the glass.
instead, he just leaned in a fraction of an inch closer, his shoulder almost brushing yours across the narrow divider. he placed his silver-ringed hand flat on the bar mat, right beside your trembling wrist. close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.
"didn't even have to ask." he murmured. his voice was a low rumble meant only for you, dropping beneath the noise of the bar. you looked up, trapped, your eyes flying to his.
he was watching you with a quiet intensity. it felt like he was invading your space completely, casually asserting himself over you, letting the quiet weight of his presence suffocate you while you stood there, utterly helpless.
"you always know what i want, y/n?"
the sound of your name on his lips sent a sickening thrill straight down your spine. you hadn't told him your name. you had never introduced yourself. he had simply taken it, learned it in the dark, and was now holding it against your throat like a blade.
"i-" you swallowed, your throat completely bone dry, your mind spinning into a panicked blur. "it's just... you always order water."
a faint, almost imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his mouth. not a smile, but something darker.
he finally reached out and grabbed the glass, taking a slow sip as his eyes never left your flushed face, just to set it back down right in front of you. as he turned and walked away into the crowd, you gripped the edge of the sink, gasping for air, completely shocked at the terrifying realization that maybe you weren't a ghost to him anymore.
you spent the next ten minutes in the back room, leaning your forehead against the cool painted cinderblock, violently dismantling every second of it.
you were actually delusional. your nametag was pinned right to the strap of your apron, faded white plastic with your name scratched into the corner. of course he had just read the tag while waiting for his drink, using it to be vaguely polite, and you had turned it into some profound revelation.
the humiliation was a heavy weight in your stomach, but as you picked up your tray to finish closing, you still couldn't stop the embarrassing flutter in your chest.
by three in the morning, the bar was nearly pitch black, saved only by the dim red glow of the exit sign and the streetlights bleeding through the front glass. the doors were locked, and you were clearing the last of the back booths near the stage, desperately trying to hurry so you could escape into the rain.
you didn't realize he was still there until you rounded the corner of the booth.
jay was sitting alone in the dark leather seat, a half empty glass of amber liquor in front of him, his long legs stretched out into the narrow aisle. his jacket was off, draped over the back of the seat, his dark sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his beautiful skin. he was staring down at his phone, the blue light catching the sharp angle of his cheekbone.
you froze, the heavy tray clattering loudly against your thigh. right then, you tried to pull back, to turn around before he noticed you, but your sneakers squeaked against the slick tile.
he didn't jump. he just slowly raised his head, locking those heavy lidded eyes on you through the gloom.
"sorry." you blurted out, the word tumbling out of your mouth way too fast, way too high. "i-i thought everyone was gone. i'm just clearing tables. i mean, obviously you're here. i can come back later. when you're done." you sounded pathetic, babbling, and completely transparent.
jay didn't move. he just watched you scramble over your own words, his expression completely unreadable. he took a slow sip of his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass, taking his sweet time while you stood there burning alive under his gaze.
"i'm done." he said softly. his voice sounded even lower in the empty bar, a lazy purr that seemed to coat the inside of your ears.
you nodded frantically, stepping forward to reach for the empty beer bottles on the far side of his table. but to reach them, you had to lean slightly into his space, your apron brushing against the wooden edge of his booth. you were so terrified of touching him that your hands were shaking again, your fingers fumbling uselessly around the neck of a glass.
"you always seem to be in a rush, y/n." he murmured. it wasn't a question, it was a slow statement.
"i'm- i just have a lot to clean." you stammered, your eyes fixed firmly on the sticky tabletop, refusing to look at him. "and the bus stops running at three thirty. so. yeah."
"is that why you're trembling?"
the question hit you like a drop of ice water down your spine. you snapped your head up, your mouth falling open slightly.
he was leaning back against the leather, his head tilted, watching you with quiet curiosity. he didn't look mean. he didn't look cold. he just looked like a man who had caught a small animal in a trap and was casually watching it squirm.
"i'm not-" you swallowed hard, your throat locking up. "it's just cold in here."
a dry breath slipped past his lips — not quite a laugh, but close enough to make your face burn with a sudden heat.
he reached out, his long fingers casually picking up the last empty glass on the far side of the table — the one you had been struggling to reach without leaning over him — and slid it across the wood, setting it directly onto your tray.
his fingertips brushed against yours as he let go. just a brief, heavy whisper of skin.
"there." he rasped, his dark eyes holding yours with a suffocating intensity. "now you won't miss your bus."
you couldn't even mutter a thanks. you just clutched the tray against your chest, offered a jerking nod, and practically ran toward the back kitchen, your heart hammering so violently against your ribs you thought it might burst right out of your chest.
you were an idiot. a complete, tragic idiot, mistaking a hot guy messing with his waitress for something else. but as you leaned against the sink in the back, listening to the quiet sound of his footsteps heading toward the exit, your skin was still screaming where his hand had brushed yours.
you stood there for five long minutes, pressing the cold water tap against your burning wrists, trying to force your pulse to slow down. it was actually embarrassing. you were an open wound, bleeding out in front of a man who was just bored, amused by how easy it was to throw you off balance. you told yourself to get a grip, to untie your apron, pack your bag, and leave before you made a bigger fool of yourself.
you put your coat on, shoved your hands deep into your pockets, and pushed through the heavy metal back door into the alleyway.
the rain was coming down hard now, slapping against the pavement and washing away the grime of the night. you ducked your head, pulling your collar up around your throat, preparing to sprint the three blocks to the bus stop.
you took two steps before you saw him.
jay was leaning against the damp brick wall right beneath the narrow tin awning, protected from the downpour. you stopped dead in your tracks, your heart dropping straight to the soles of your shoes.
"you missed it." he said softly. his voice didn't carry over the sound of the rain — it sat beneath it, low and raspy, vibrating in the narrow space between the brick walls.
"what?" you stammered, your voice catching in your dry throat.
he didn't answer with words. he just raised his left arm, tapping the face of his watch with his thumb. the faint red glow of the streetlight caught the hands.
three thirty four.
"oh." you breathed. the last bus was gone.
you stood there, exposed in the cold rain, water instantly soaking through the canvas of your sneakers, feeling small and completely stranded. you should have turned around. you should have walked back inside, called a cab, or walked the forty minutes home in the freezing wet. but your feet were glued to the pavement. you were starving, so pathetic and desperate for the heat radiating off him that you couldn't move a single inch away.
jay took a long drag of his cigarette, his dark eyes never leaving your wet face. he didn't offer a ride. he didn't offer an apology. he just watched you drown in the rain, taking up all the dry space beneath the awning like he owned it.
then, without taking his eyes off you, he stepped back an inch, dropping his shoulder slightly toward the brick wall. it was the smallest, most dismissive invitation in the world. a silent command.
your body moved before your brain could stop it. you stepped out of the pouring rain and under the narrow awning, sinking right into his space.
the sudden heat off him was staggering. you could smell his familiar scent, taking over your senses so violently you felt dizzy. you were standing mere inches from his chest, your soaked shoulder almost touching his arm, your breath coming in ragged puffs that misted in the cold night air.
"you're soaking wet." he murmured.
he lifted his hand — the same hand that played those dirty riffs on stage — and brought it to your face.
you flinched, your eyes wide, your lungs seizing up entirely. but he didn't pull back. his knuckles pressed gently against the side of your neck, his thumb deliberately wiping a drop of rain off your cheekbone. the touch was so hot it felt like a brand, sending a exquisite shiver straight down your spine.
"you're freezing too." he rasped, his thumb dragging down to the side of your jaw, pressing just hard enough to feel the frantic hammering of your pulse against his skin.
you wanted to tell him to stop. you wanted to push his hand away and call him cruel for playing with you like this, for holding you under his thumb when you meant absolutely nothing to him. but you couldn't speak. you were drowning in him, your body betraying you so completely that you tilted your head a fraction of an inch into his palm, desperate for a heat you knew you couldn’t have.
the moment you yielded, the moment your skin pressed just a fraction of an inch heavier into his palm, a terrifying heat rushed straight down to your core.
it was heavy and sudden, a warm pull in your lower belly that made your knees feel completely useless. you had never felt this before — this raw, desperate spike of arousal just from a thumb brushing your jawline. you were completely swallowed up by the sight of him. you took in the sharp line of his throat as he tilted his head, the rain-dampened strands of hair falling over his forehead, the beautiful shape of his mouth. he was a walking disaster. he smelled like dark tobacco and rain, and he felt like the one thing you had been starving for your entire life.
he held his hand there for three agonizing seconds. you could feel the rough calluses on his fingers holding you in place while your breath hitched erratically. he was studying your face, taking in the dilated state of your pupils and the pathetic parting of your lips.
a low hum vibrated in the back of his throat. and then, with agonizing slowness, he dropped his hand.
the absence of his touch was like a physical blow. the freezing alley air slammed back against your wet skin, and a quiet gasp slipped out of your mouth before you could bite it down. your body actually jerked forward a fraction of an inch, subconsciously chasing the heat of his palm, before you caught yourself and stiffened.
you prayed he hadn’t noticed. he probably hadn’t noticed.
jay lifted his cigarette back to his lips, taking a slow drag. he leaned his head back against the brick, watching you shiver under the awning. he looked entirely untouched by the rain, completely in control, while you were falling apart at the seams. it was intoxicating. the fact that he could reduce you to a trembling, aching mess without even trying made you want to press yourself directly against his chest and let him ruin you completely.
"so what's the plan, y/n?" he rasped, blowing a thick stream of smoke over your head. "you're just going to stand here and freeze?"
you wrapped your arms tightly around your own waist, hugging your damp coat against your body, trying to hide the way your chest was heaving. "i don't... i don't know. i'll figure it out."
"the buses are done." he stated, his tone flat. he wasn't looking at you with pity. he was just observing a fact, watching you squirm under the weight of it.
"i know." you swallowed hard, your voice shaking. "i can walk."
his dark eyes flicked down to your soaked canvas sneakers, then slowly dragged back up the length of your body, lingering for a fraction of a second on the frantic pulse at your throat. a faint scoff left his chest.
"you're not walking." he murmured.
he didn't ask. he didn't offer to be a gentleman. he just dropped his cigarette onto the wet concrete, crushing the orange ember beneath the heavy heel of his boot. he stepped away from the wall, his broad shoulders shifting as he adjusted his leather jacket.
"my car's parked on fourth." he said, his voice dropping into that authoritative cadence.
he turned his back to you and stepped out into the freezing rain. he didn't look over his shoulder to see if you were following. he didn't hold out a hand or wait for you to agree. he just walked into the dark, projecting a quiet gravity, seemingly knowing with absolute certainty that you had no willpower left.
and as the pulsing ache in your stomach twisted even tighter, you stepped out from under the awning and followed him into the rain without a second thought.
the walk to his car was a blur of cold rain and slick pavement. you kept your eyes fixed on the broad line of his shoulders, terrified that if you stopped for even a second, you would wake up and realize you were still alone in the alley. he stopped next to a dark sedan, unlocking it with a sharp click that cut through the sound of the storm.
you slipped into the passenger seat, the heavy door shutting behind you and instantly swallowing the noise of the rain.
the silence inside the car was deafening. the interior was pitch black, but it smelled exactly like him — worn leather, lingering stale smoke, and that sharp scent that made your head spin. a second later, the driver's side door opened, and he folded himself into the seat beside you, bringing a gust of cold air with him.
he didn't put the key in the ignition. he didn't start the engine. he just sat there in the dark, his large hands resting loosely on the steering wheel, staring out the rain-slicked windshield.
you sat rigidly, your damp coat clinging to your skin, your knees pressed tightly together as you tried to suppress a violent shiver. the proximity was suffocating. in the narrow space of the front seat, his physical presence felt massive, a heavy gravity pulling on every nerve ending in your body.
"you didn't even hesitate." he said suddenly. his voice was low, filling the enclosed space until there was no room left to breathe.
you swallowed hard, your fingers gripping the damp fabric of your jeans. "what?"
"i told you i was parked on fourth, and you just followed me into the dark." he turned his head slowly, the dim amber glow of a distant streetlight casting sharp shadows across his face. "you always this trusting, y/n?"
the word hit you directly in the stomach, a hot pull that made your thighs ache. "i was freezing. and you offered to drive me."
he didn't say anything to that. he just watched you for a quiet moment. then, he shifted in his seat, leaning across the center console.
your breath hitched. your body instantly braced for the heat of his touch, your chest tightening in desperate anticipation as his broad shoulder eclipsed your vision. but his hand just brushed past your trembling knee, his knuckles grazing your wet denim, to flick a dial on the dashboard.
the heater roared to life, blasting warm air over your freezing legs.
he leaned back into his own space, leaving you entirely bereft. you hated how badly you had wanted his hand to land on your thigh. you hated how obvious the sharp intake of your breath had been.
"you shouldn't get into cars with guys you don't know." he murmured, his voice a lazy drawl over the sound of the fan.
"i know you." you tried to sound steady, but your voice came out breathless and weak, betraying exactly how rattled you were.
jay let out a quiet sound — a rough exhale that vibrated deep in his chest. "you know my drink order, sweetheart. you don't know me."
the nickname made your stomach drop, somehow feeling more condescending than sweet. the words hung heavy in the warm air, because you couldn't argue with him. you didn't know his last name, didn't know where he lived or what he was like when he wasn't dragging those heavy riffs out of his guitar. you didn't know anything real about him at all.
but you knew the exact shape of his hands. you knew the way his throat moved when he swallowed. you knew that you were sitting in his passenger seat, soaking wet, practically vibrating with need just because his eyes were on you. it was a terrifying, blind obsession, and you were completely powerless to stop it.
he watched you fall silent, his dark eyes dropping slowly to the frantic pulse jumping beneath the wet collar of your shirt. he watched it beat for a long second, the silence stretching so tight you thought it might snap. he didn't mock you. he just observed you, taking in the absolute mess he had reduced you to with nothing more than his proximity.
he finally reached down and turned the key in the ignition. the engine rumbled to life, a deep vibration that rattled the floorboards and shot straight up your spine.
"so," he murmured, resting his arm casually on the back of your seat, his fingers brushing the wet ends of your hair. "where am i taking you?"
you rattled off an address that was fifteen minutes away across town, the name of the street barely making it past the nervous knot in your throat.
he didn't say a word. he just pulled the gearshift down, his knuckles brushing dangerously close to your knee, and eased the heavy car out into the empty streets.
the drive was excruciating. you pressed yourself as far into the passenger door as you could, staring out the window at the blurred city. but you couldn't escape him. the car was entirely his domain, saturated with his scent and the brooding quiet he carried everywhere. looking out the window didn't help either — the wet glass just acted like a mirror against the dark night, reflecting the sharp line of his jaw, the relaxed slump of his shoulders, the careless way he drove with one hand resting at the bottom of the steering wheel.
his other hand was still resting on the center console. right in the narrow space between your seats, mere inches from your thigh.
the hypnotic sweep of the windshield wipers was the only sound in the car besides the low roar of the heater. the warm air was slowly thawing your frozen skin, but the heat pooling low in your stomach had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.
he stopped at a red light. the car idled with a deep purr that vibrated up through the floorboards.
jay shifted his hand on the console, his long fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the dark plastic. every time his hand moved, your eyes darted toward it, completely hypnotized by the heavy silver rings glinting in the dim amber light of the streetlamps.
he caught you looking. his eyes flicked from the windshield to you, catching your gaze in the reflection of the glass before you could tear it away.
"you pay a lot of attention." he murmured into the quiet.
you flinched, your fingers tightening around the damp canvas of your coat. you didn't look at him. you just stared straight ahead at the rain hitting the glass. "what?"
"on thursdays." he clarified softly, his voice a gravelly hum that seemed to wrap itself right around your throat. "you always stand in the exact same spot by the ice well. you don't talk to anyone, you just watch. right?"
your heart gave a sickening lurch, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to break out. he knew.
the panic seized your chest, but beneath it, a dark wave of arousal rushed straight down your body.
because he was right. you did watch. you had spent months completely consumed by the way he played, memorizing every microscopic detail. you knew how his large hands slid down the neck of the guitar, fingers pressing effortlessly into the frets. you knew the exact moment his eyes would slip shut during the bridge of that one slow song, lost in the dragging rhythm. you knew the way his hips moved when he leaned into the microphone, a slow sway that made your mouth go completely dry.
every thursday, you stood in the dark and let the deep bass of his guitar rattle around in your chest, imagining what those heavy hands would feel like mapping out the shape of your waist instead of the instrument. you had spent hours agonizing over what that kind of intense focus would feel like directed solely at you, letting the thought pool hot and heavy between your thighs until you could barely stand the friction of your own jeans.
but you couldn't just tell him that. "it's a small bar." you lied, your voice wavering pathetically. you swallowed hard, trying to sound indifferent, trying not to let him hear how badly you were shaking. "there's nowhere else to look."
jay didn't argue. he didn't call you a liar or push you to confess. he just let out a quiet exhale that sounded entirely too much like a laugh.
the light turned green. he looked back at the road and hit the gas, the sudden acceleration pressing you deep into the leather seat.
he didn't take his hand off the center console. instead, he shifted it just a fraction of an inch closer, his knuckles grazing the damp fabric of your coat where it spilled over your leg. he just left his hand there, hovering in the agonizing space right beside your thigh in absolute silence.
when the car finally rolled to a stop near your apartment building, the deep rumble of the engine stayed alive between you. you gripped your bag tightly, your knees pressed together under your wet coat, desperate to escape before your body gave you away completely.
"this is me." you murmured, your voice breathless. "thanks again. for the ride."
you reached for the handle, but before your fingers could pull it, his voice cut through the dark.
"you didn't ask why i was out there."
you froze, your hand hovering over the cold plastic latch. "what?"
jay shifted in the driver's seat, resting one wrist over the top of the steering wheel. the light from the streetlamp caught the sharp angle of his jaw, his heavy eyes fixed entirely on you.
"in the alley." he said, his voice a low rasp. "you just stepped under the awning like you were expecting me to be standing there."
your heart gave a sickening thud against your ribs. a sudden rush of heat pooled low in your stomach, heavy and aching.
"i- i wasn't expecting you." you answered, the words tripping helplessly over your tongue. "i thought you were just smoking."
"i finished my cigarette ten minutes before you walked out the back door." he murmured.
the air left your lungs in an instant. your mind raced into a dizzying tailspin. did he wait for you? why would he wait for you? you tried to convince yourself it was a coincidence, that he was just killing time, but the deliberate way he was watching you made your throat go completely bone dry.
"then... why were you waiting?" you whispered, the question slipping out before you could stop it, pathetic and fragile in the quiet car.
jay didn't answer right away. he slowly leaned across the center console, taking up all the air in the vehicle, bringing the suffocating heat of his body right into yours. you braced your back against the passenger door, your chest heaving, your pulse hammering violently in your ears.
he didn't touch you. he just rested his forearm against the top of your seat, his fingers trailing so close to your shoulder that you could feel the heat radiating off his leather jacket.
"why do you think, y/n?" he rasped softly.
the proximity was agonizing. up close, you could see his beautiful features and the dark intensity in his eyes. you wanted so desperately to say something — anything — to bridge the inch between you, to tilt your head up and sink into him. you were starving for it, completely undone by the mere possibility that he wanted you back.
but the fear was bigger. the humiliating certainty that you were just reading into things, that he was playing with a clearly anxious woman who didn't know how to handle him.
"i don't know." you stammered, your eyes dropping helplessly to his lips before darting back to his eyes.
jay stared at you for two endless beats, taking in the flushed heat on your face, the breathless parting of your lips, the absolute ruin he had made of your composure.
an imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his mouth. "liar." he murmured softly.
before you could process the word, his hand moved, his thumb casually reaching out to drag over the sharp line of your collarbone — just a fleeting stroke of skin that sent a shockwave directly down your spine — before he reached past you and clicked the door handle open.
the cold night air rushed into the car, snapping the suffocating heat between you like a twig.
jay pulled back into his seat, his large hands settling back onto the steering wheel, completely unbothered, his face a mask of calm composure.
"go inside." he said quietly, looking back out at the rain-soaked street. "you need some sleep."
you sat there, paralyzed, your body throbbing with an unfulfilled ache, your heart slamming against your chest. he had left you completely exposed, dangling on the edge, and pulled back without a second thought.
"goodnight, jay." you choked out.
you scrambled out of the car into the freezing rain, your knees so weak you practically stumbled up the steps to your building. as you fumbled with your keys in the dark doorway, your skin still burning where his thumb had touched you, the sound of his engine faded into the night — leaving you alone in the cold, utterly consumed.
⋆.˚˖࿔ ࣪
the seven days between thursdays felt less like a week and more like a slow fever.
your sleep schedule was done for. every time you closed your eyes, you were back in the dark interior of his car, feeling the phantom heat of his thumb dragging over your collarbone, hearing that soft liar echoing in your ears. the humiliation of bracing for a kiss he never gave you burned like an open wound, but the sickening hunger it left behind was a thousand times worse.
by ten o'clock the following thursday, the bar was a suffocating wall of heat, noise, and smoke. you spent the entire set doing everything in your power to avoid looking toward the stage. you kept your head down, aggressively wiping down the wooden counters, restocking glasses, pretending you were entirely immune to his presence. but your body betrayed you at every turn. the heavy rumble of his guitar vibrated straight through the floorboards, shooting directly up your spine and settling in the pit of your stomach.
the second their last song ended, you grabbed an empty ice bucket and escaped down the dimly lit back hallway toward the heavy stainless steel ice machine.
the back hallway was quiet, smelling of damp concrete and cold metal. you shoved the bucket under the chute and hit the lever, the loud avalanche of crushing ice filling the silence. you leaned your forehead against the cold material, closing your eyes, taking a deep breath to force your pulse to slow down.
"you missed the solo." the voice came from the dark shadows behind you — low and entirely unhurried. you snapped your head up, your heart leaping straight into your throat.
jay was leaning his broad shoulder against the damp brick wall a few feet away, his arms folded loosely across his chest. he had just come off stage; his dark hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead, and his usual black shirt was unfastened at the top, revealing the sharp line of his chest. he looked completely relaxed while you instantly unraveled.
"i was working." you stammered, your fingers tightening around the edge of the metal bucket until your knuckles turned white.
"you were working last week, too." he murmured, his voice a smooth rasp. "didn't stop you from staring then."
a hot wave of heat rushed up your neck, burning your cheeks. you tried to swallow, but your throat was bone dry. "i wasn't staring."
jay didn't argue. he just pushed off the brick wall with effortless grace, taking two slow steps toward you.
the space between you vanished in an instant. the sheer size of him in the narrow hallway was suffocating. he brought a staggering wall of heat with him — saturated in that intoxicating scent of distortion, fresh sweat, tobacco, and warm skin that made your head spin. it felt like your senses were made to betray you, every instinct sharpening and blurring at once until all you could register was him standing there, stealing the air from your lungs without saying a word.
you pressed your back flat against the cold metal of the ice machine, completely trapped.
"you're terrible at lying, y/n." he murmured softly.
he didn't touch you, but he reached past your waist, his long fingers resting casually on the edge of the ice machine right next to your hip. he leaned in slightly, his broad shoulders blocking out the hallway light, casting his sharp features in deep shadows.
"i'm not lying." you whispered, though your voice cracked pathetically on the last word. up close, the sight of him was overwhelming. you took in the dark fringe of his eyelashes, the faint sheen of moisture on his throat, the beautiful shape of his lips. you were practically vibrating, starving for him to bridge the inch between you, desperate to feel those heavy hands on your body.
jay tilted his head, his dark eyes slowly sweeping over your face. "why didn't you look at me tonight?" he asked softly, his tone completely neutral, as if he were asking about the weather.
"you told me i watch too much." you choked on the words, your eyes helplessly dropping to his mouth before darting back to his. it was becoming a bad habit at this point.
an almost imperceptible tilt appeared at the corner of his sharp mouth. "i said you pay attention." he corrected, his voice dropping an octave, slipping over your skin like velvet. "i didn't tell you to stop."
the words hit you directly in the stomach, a hot pull that made your inner thighs press tightly together beneath your apron. your mind completely short-circuited. you stood there, paralyzed, drowning in the absolute control he held over you.
he lifted his other hand — slowly, agonizingly slow — and let his knuckles lightly graze the side of your neck.
the touch sent a blinding shockwave straight down your spine. a soft gasp slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it. you tilted your head just a fraction of a millimeter into his hand, completely surrendered, silently begging him to take more, to press you against the cold metal and ruin you right there in the dark.
but he didn't pull you closer. instead, his thumb lightly dragged up over your jawline, holding you captive in the dark for one more breathless second.
"your ice is overflowing." he rasped softly, his breath fanning hot against your mouth.
and then, he stepped back.
the sudden absence of his touch was a physical blow. the cold hallway air slammed back against your skin, leaving you feeling entirely breathless and humiliated.
you looked down with wide, unspooling eyes. the ice machine was overflowing, cold cubes spilling over the rim of the bucket and clattering onto the concrete floor around your shoes.
jay stood there, entirely unbothered, his composure completely intact as if he hadn't just brought you to the absolute edge of sanity. he casually shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans.
"see you around, y/n." he murmured indifferently. he turned his back to you and strolled down the hallway, disappearing back into the crowded bar without a single glance over his shoulder.
you slid down the front of the ice machine until your knees hit the cold floor, clutching your arms around your waist, shivering uncontrollably. your skin was still burning, your body throbbing with a desperate feeling you had never experienced before.
he was playing you like an instrument. the anger didn't arrive all at once, starting as a bitter burn in the pit of your stomach while you picked ice cubes off the floor, tossing them one by one into the drain.
he was doing it on purpose. the thought took root, cold and ugly, pulling you up off your knees. it wasn't an accident. it wasn't just a string of awkward coincidences or a series of moments where you happened to misread the room. the deliberate way he moved into your space, the exact second he chose to drop his touch — it was calculated. he pushed just far enough to watch you break, to feel your pulse go erratic against his skin, and then he pulled away the second you offered yourself up to him.
he was entertaining himself. you were just a pathetic waitress at a bar, practically begging a stupidly hot guitarist to notice her, giving him an ego boost on his walk out to the alley.
and yet, as you hoisted the heavy bucket back up to your hip, a sickening wave of doubt crashed over your anger, drowning it out.
what if he wasn't? what if you were completely insane? what if he was just an indifferent, naturally invasive man who stepped into people's personal space without thinking twice about it? what if every single drop of tension you felt was a pathetic fantasy you had constructed inside your own lonely head?
the thought made your face burn hotter than the humiliation. you were torn straight down the middle — half of you furious at him for being a sadistic bastard, the other half utterly disgusted with yourself for being delusional enough to think he gave a damn.
by two in the morning, the main floor had finally drained of people.
you were behind the counter, desperately praying you could just finish up and escape into the cold night air. right in that moment, jen, the server who was supposed to lock up with you, rushed out of the back hallway, clutching her coat.
"y/n, i am so, so sorry." she breathed, looking panicked. "my sister just called. her car overheated on the highway and she's stuck on the shoulder. can you please finish wiping down and lock the back door? the drawer is already counted."
"yeah... go ahead." you murmured, forcing a small smile despite the sudden drop in your stomach. "drive safe."
she thanked you three times and bolted out the front entrance, the heavy door clicking shut behind her.
you were alone. or at least, you should have been.
you couldn't set the alarm or lock the rear exit because jay was still inside. the rest of his band had picked up the heavy amps ten minutes ago, their voices long faded down the alley, but jay hadn't left.
he was sitting on a tall stool in the far, shadowy corner near the empty stage, a single overhead amber light allowing you to see him. he had his electric guitar resting against his hip — unplugged, raw, and quiet. his fingers were sliding over the frets, dragging out lazy riffs that vibrated through the empty room.
the sound was hypnotic. it echoed softly against the bare brick walls, that dragging rhythm that always shot straight down your spine.
you were supposed to be cleaning, but you were completely paralyzed. you stood behind the bar with the damp rag clutched in your hand, mesmerized by the effortless way his fingers moved over the dark instrument. you hated him for it. you hated how easily he held you captive without even looking at you, how a few lazy notes from his hands could make your knees feel hollow.
and then, the music stopped. a single string vibrated into silence. slowly, jay tilted his head back, his dark eyes locking onto yours across the empty room.
a lazy, mocking smirk spread across his lips. "still paying attention, sweetheart?" he rasped. his voice carried effortlessly through the quiet bar, laced with a condescending warmth. "thought you said there was nowhere else to look."
a stinging heat rushed up your neck, burning your cheeks. you gripped the rag tighter, your jaw setting in a rigid line. "i'm waiting for you to leave so i can lock up."
"are you?" he slowly unstrapped his guitar, resting it against the stool with agonizing slowness. he didn't look bothered. he didn't look tired. he looked like a predator who had just spent the last two hours watching you squirm in a cage he built for you.
he shoved his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and began walking slowly toward the bar. every step he took sent your heart hammering violently against your ribs. you stood your ground behind the mahogany counter, trying desperately to look cold, distant, and unbothered. but as he drew closer, the sheer physical weight of his presence started stripping away your meager defenses.
he didn't stop on the other side of the counter. without taking his eyes off you, jay reached down, unlatched the small wooden gate at the side of the bar, and stepped straight into your space.
the sound of his heavy boots against the floorboards behind the counter was a shockwave. people weren't allowed back there. it was the one physical barrier that kept you safe from him, and he had just shattered it without a second thought.
"jay-" you stammered, your composure instantly fracturing as you backed up until your thighs slammed against the low liquor display behind you. "you can't be back here."
"make me leave, then." he murmured smoothly.
he didn't stop until he was towering directly over you in the narrow aisle, blocking out the amber light, trapping you between his broad chest and the glass bottles behind you. the sudden heat coming off his body was overwhelming.
he looked down at you, his eyes utterly ruthless as he took in your heaving chest and the pathetic way your breath was hitching in your throat.
"you look annoyed, y/n." he rasped, a mocking chuckle vibrating deep in his chest. "what's the matter?"
the words hit you like a slap, raw and humiliating, laying your most embarrassing secret completely bare. your mouth parted in a sharp gasp, your eyes wide with shock. "i- i’m not-"
"lying again? mmh?" he purred softly, cutting you off before you could even build a defense.
he reached out, his fingers taking the damp rag out of your trembling hand and tossing it carelessly over his shoulder onto the sink. your hands were left completely empty, completely exposed.
"you've been standing in the dark watching me for months, haven’t you?" he rasped, stepping half an inch closer until the front of his unbuttoned shirt pressed directly against your apron. "you practically shook out of your clothes when i put my hand near your leg in the car. and when i touched your neck by the ice machine, you tilted your head right into it. aren’t you such a desperate little thing?"
every single word was a cruel sentence, destroying any remaining delusion that it had all been in your head. he had known the entire time, and he was taking immense pleasure in watching you drown in it.
you felt a tear of overwhelming frustration sting the back of your eyes. "you're being an asshole, jay." you choked out, your voice trembling with a mixture of intense anger and something else you didn’t want to accept.
jay didn't flinch. his smile only widened, turning dark and entirely devoid of mercy. "maybe." he murmured softly.
he slowly raised his hand, his calloused palm sliding up your throat, his fingers wrapping firmly around the back of your neck. his grip was warm, heavy, and absolute, tilting your face up until your lips were mere millimeters from his. "but you're still shaking for me, from just playing a few notes." he rasped, his thumb pressing deliberately over your frantic pulse, feeling the absolute ruin he had reduced you to. "you hate it, but you want me so bad you can barely stand up. don't you?"
your mouth parted, but no sound came out. you wanted to deny it, to tear his hand away from your neck and spit some lie about how he was conceited, how you didn't care. but his thumb was pressing so firmly against your throat, feeling the chaotic rhythm of your heart betraying every single thought. you were completely exposed, pinned against the low display shelf, with his dark-clothed body trapping you in.
"i..." you choked out, your eyes darting helplessly to his lips before flying back to his mocking eyes.
"that's what i thought." he murmured, his voice a low purr of absolute victory. he slowly let his hand slide down your neck, his knuckles dragging over your collarbone with agonizing slowness before he stepped back, taking that heat with him. you felt a cold shiver run down your spine at the sudden loss of his touch.
he looked down at you, his gaze sweeping over your flushed face and your trembling hands, a slow smirk playing on his lips.
"you're a mess, y/n." he rasped softly, his tone laced with a teasing warmth. "i have my amp setup at my place." he murmured, leaning his hip against the bar, looking entirely relaxed while you were practically vibrating. "since you like watching so much, come back with me. i'll play for you. privately."
the condescending arrogance of his voice should have made you scream. he was being an absolute asshole, treating you like some easy toy he could wind up and watch spin. you knew you should say no. you knew that going to his apartment was walking straight into a trap where he would keep pulling the strings.
but the hunger inside you was a physical sickness. it had been building for seven long days, for months of thursdays in the dark, and you were too weak to fight it.
"okay." you whispered, your voice pathetically small.
jay's smirk widened, dark and possessive. "mmh. grab your coat."
the drive was a silent torture. the rain lashed against the windshield of his car, the steady scrape of the wipers doing nothing to ease the suffocating tension in the small space. jay drove with one hand, looking completely unbothered, while you sat frozen in the passenger seat, your hands knotted tightly in your lap, your mind spinning in a dizzying loop of anticipation and shame.
when he finally unlocked the door to his loft, the darkness of his space swallowed you whole. it smelled heavily of tobacco, old wood, and the warm scent of his skin.
he didn't take his leather jacket off. he just walked over to a low leather couch, leaving the lights off except for the dim streetlamp glow filtering through the wet windowpane. he picked up his electric guitar, plugging it into a small amp on the floor. the heavy hum of the electricity filled the room, making your pulse spike.
"sit." he commanded softly, gesturing to the edge of the low table right in front of him.
you slowly crossed the room, your knees shaking so badly you could barely keep your footing. you sat down on the edge of the wood, your knees practically touching his denim-clad thighs.
jay didn't wait. his fingers settled over the strings as he began to play.
it wasn't the loud music from the stage. it was a slow, dragging, incredibly dirty riff. the distorted notes vibrated right through the floor, straight up through the table, settling like liquid fire directly between your thighs. the sound was hypnotic, wrapping around your senses until you couldn't think, couldn't breathe, your eyes locked onto the effortless movement of his hands.
he looked up through the dark fringe of his hair, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he kept playing, his fingers sliding over the frets with agonizing precision.
"look at you." he rasped over the low hum of the guitar, a toxic smile curving his lips. "you're practically dripping just from the sound of it, aren't you?"
"jay, i..." you whispered, your chest heaving, the friction of your own jeans against your aching core becoming completely unbearable. the music was winding you so tight you felt like you were going to snap.
"what is it, sweetheart?" he teased, his fingers plucking a deep chord that sent a literal shiver straight down your spine. "you wanted me to play for you. you've been dreaming about this. watch my hands, y/n. tell me what you want them to do to you."
the agonizing teasing was too much. you leaned forward, your hands gripping his knees, your eyes wide and pleading in the dark. "put it down. please."
jay didn't put the guitar down. instead, he stopped playing, the last distorted note echoing into the dark corners of the room before dying out. he looked down at your hands clutching his knees, his dark eyes glinting with a slow amusement that made your stomach twist.
"put it down?" he murmured, his voice a gravelly rasp. "why would i do that when you're paying such close attention?"
he slowly raised his right hand. pinched between his long fingers was his guitar pick — a small, thin piece of black plastic, still warm from his grip.
you stared at it, your breath hitching as he brought it toward your face. he didn't touch you with his hand. instead, he used the flat edge of the pick to trace the line of your lower lip. he dragged it slowly, deliberately, pulling the sensitive skin down just enough to force a quiet gasp from your mouth.
"you want my hands so bad." he whispered, his eyes locked on your parted lips as he slid the pick down your chin, tracing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but you haven't earned them yet."
the sharp edge of the plastic felt like fire against your heated skin. you shivered, your eyes fluttering shut as he dragged the pick further down, slipping it past the collar of your shirt, tracing the valley between your breasts, and then down, down, until he pressed it firmly against the seam of your jeans.
an agonizing throb bloomed between your thighs. you whined, your hips instinctively twitching upward, begging for the pressure, but jay immediately pulled the pick away, letting out a soft chuckle.
"so impatient." he teased, his voice dropping into a velvet purr. "since you love my music so much, i think we should let the guitar do the work."
before you could process his words, jay reached out. his heavy hands gripped your waist, his fingers digging into your skin as he easily lifted you off the edge of the table.
you thought he was pulling you onto his lap. you thought you were finally going to get the friction you were starving for.
but as he sat you down, he didn't pull you against his thighs. instead, he guided you right over the solid body of his electric guitar.
your breath left your lungs in a violent shock. you were straddling the hard wood of the instrument, the cool finish pressing directly against your soaking wet center through the thin fabric of your jeans.
"jay-" you gasped, your hands flying to his broad shoulders to steady yourself.
"shhh." he murmured, his hands wrapping firmly around your hips, pinning you down so you couldn't pull away. "stay right there."
he reached around your body, his long fingers settling over the fretboard and the strings behind you. you were completely caged by his arms, trapped on top of the instrument, your face buried in the crook of his neck. you could smell the intoxicating scent of his warm skin, so close you could taste it.
and then, jay struck a low, heavy chord.
the electric guitar was plugged into the amp on the floor. the distorted sound didn't just fill the room — it vibrated violently through the solid wood of the guitar's body, shooting a physical shockwave of vibration directly into your pelvic bone, straight to your sensitive core.
your back arched off him, a helpless cry tearing from your throat as your head fell back. the unexpected intensity of the vibration sent a blinding wave of pleasure straight to your brain, making your inner thighs tremble uncontrollably.
"do you like that, sweetheart?" jay rasped in your ear, his voice laced with a cruel warmth.
he struck another chord, a slow, dragging rhythm. the vibration hummed continuously against your wet denim, winding you so tight you felt like you were going to snap. you began to move, your hips instinctively grinding down against the hard wood of the guitar, desperate to chase the friction.
but jay's hands tightened on your hips, holding you perfectly still.
"i didn't tell you to move." he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "just take the music."
"please, jay, let me move." you sobbed softly, the denial of friction becoming a literal torture. your core was throbbing, practically weeping against the hard instrument, desperate for any release. "please, i want to slide, let me-"
"tell me what you want." he commanded, his fingers plucking a resonant note that made your entire body shudder against the wood. "say it, y/n. tell me what you're riding."
"your guitar." you cried out, your pride completely shattered, your face burning with a mixture of intense shame and overwhelming arousal. "i'm riding your guitar. please, jay..."
a dangerous chuckle vibrated against your chest. "good girl." he murmured, his grip on your hips finally loosening just a fraction, allowing you to slide. "now show me how desperate you are. ride it for me."
with his hands guiding your hips, you slowly began to shift, dragging your aching center over the vibrating wood of his guitar. every time you moved, he plucked another deep chord, the physical vibrations combining with the friction of your jeans to push you closer and closer to the absolute edge of sanity. you clutched his shoulders, your eyes rolled back, completely ruined, riding his instrument in the dark while he watched your undoing with a victorious smile.
you shifted against the smooth finish, your head thrown back as the continuous vibration of another low chord hummed straight through your pelvic bone. every friction-filled glide of your jeans against the wood was sweet torture, but you couldn't get close enough. you were chasing a release that remained agonizingly out of reach, completely trapped in the rhythm of his hands.
jay watched the desperate tilt of your hips, his eyes dark and dilated in the shadows. he let out a rough hum, the sound vibrating against your chest where your bodies brushed.
"look at you." he rasped, his voice dripping with that toxic satisfaction. "ruined for me. and i haven't even touched you yet."
he kept his left hand on the fretboard, casually holding down a rumbling note that kept the wood buzzing against your wet heat. but his right hand left the strings.
you opened your eyes, blinking past the tears of frustration, and saw him holding that thin, black guitar pick again.
your breath hitched, your hips freezing for a split second. "jay..."
"i didn't tell you to stop, y/n." he murmured, his tone a mocking warning. "keep moving."
you swallowed hard, forced to slowly drag your aching core over the vibrating wood again, your eyes locked onto his fingers.
jay slowly brought his hand down between your bodies, his fingers reaching the button of your jeans. with agonizing slowness, he popped it open. the sound of your zipper being dragged down felt incredibly loud in the quiet room.
he didn't slide his hand inside to cup you. he didn't give you the warm touch of his palm that you were begging for.
instead, his knuckles brushed your stomach as he slipped his hand just inside the parted denim, the cool edge of the plastic pick sliding past the damp lace of your underwear.
the second the thin plastic pressed directly against your swollen clit, you let out a broken sob. your back arched, your fingers digging violently into his shoulders as a blinding jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core.
"so wet." jay whispered, his voice a dark purr right against your ear.
he didn't move his hand away. as you instinctively tried to push your hips forward into the pressure, his fingers held the pick perfectly still, letting the flat edge of the plastic press firmly against your sensitive bud. at the same time, his other hand plucked another deep chord on the guitar.
the double assault was completely overwhelming. the wood vibrated violently against your pelvic bone while the thin plastic pick teased the most sensitive point of your core.
"slide for me, baby." he commanded softly, his grip on your hips tightening just enough to guide you. "rub yourself right against the pick, y/n. let me feel how much you actually want it."
you cried out, the humiliating filth of his words sending a fresh wave of heat down your thighs. but you couldn't stop. you were entirely unraveled, completely at his mercy. you slowly shifted your hips, dragging yourself over the vibrating guitar body while the hard edge of his pick scraped and teased over your dripping heat with every agonizing movement.
"please, jay." you wept, your forehead pressing into his neck as you frantically chased the edge, your inner thighs shaking so hard you could barely hold yourself up over the instrument. "please... it's too much."
"it's exactly what you wanted, sweetheart." he rasped, his eyes watching your face with possessive intensity. he dragged the flat edge of the pick slowly up and down, parting your sensitive folds, coating the plastic in your own slick moisture while the guitar kept humming beneath you. "show me how much you can take before you break."
he brought the slick guitar pick back down, but he didn't slide it. instead, he pressed the very tip of the plastic right against the swollen center of your pleasure. he began to vibrate his hand with the same rapid motion he used to shred on stage, turning the plastic pick into a dizzying blur against your clit.
the sensation was so sharp, so violently intense, that your vision literally went black at the edges. you screamed, your hips bucking frantically against his grip, trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. but his hands on your hips were like iron bands, locking you down, forcing you to take every single agonizing vibration.
"jay! please, please- i'm going to-" you cried out, your fingers clawing desperately at the leather of his jacket, tears finally spilling over your hot cheeks.
"mmh? " he teased as he kept his hand vibrating against you, pushing you closer and closer to a messy peak.
in a fleeting second, he stopped his hand, holding the pick perfectly still, pressing it hard against your throbbing bud. you gasped, hovering on the very brink of your orgasm, your body trembling, completely suspended in mid-air.
"fuck, jay!" you wept, your voice breaking, completely ruined, any ounce of your dignity long gone, scattered on the floor of his dark loft. "please let me. please, jay."
jay stared up at you, his dark eyes flashing with a heavy hunger that finally burned away the mocking amusement. his chest was heaving now, his own breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you — completely stripped of your defenses, crying and begging for him, entirely his.
but he didn’t budge. he kept his hand absolutely still, holding you hostage on the very peak of the cliff, your body trembling so violently the guitar strings beneath you hummed a chaotic note.
he leaned forward, his face close enough that his warm, tobacco-scented breath brushed your wet cheek. the dark smirk on his lips was entirely devoid of pity.
"crying over a guitar pick. you’re so easy it’s almost boring, y/n." he whispered, a low chuckle scraping against your ear.
a sob caught in your throat, your fingers clenching the leather of his jacket. the sheer humiliation of his words burned, but the ache between your thighs was a screaming demand, drowning out every shred of your dignity. "jay... i can't... i need-"
"what do you need?" he interrupted smoothly, his silver-ringed fingers gently tapping the side of your neck, right over your throbbing pulse. "tell me exactly how pathetic you are right now. let me hear it."
you shook your head, trying to hide your face in his shoulder, but he caught your chin in a firm grip, forcing you to look into his ruthless eyes.
"say it." he commanded, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet purr. "tell me you're just a desperate slut begging for whatever crumbs i feel like giving you."
"i'm... i'm desperate. i’ve been waiting for so long, jay." you wept, the words tasting like ash and fire on your tongue. "please, please let me come..."
his dark eyes flared with a predatory satisfaction. "my patient girl. that’s it." he rasped, the praise dripping with toxic sweetness.
he didn't remove the pick. instead, he gripped your hips with bruising force, pinning you down, and struck one final chord on the guitar. at the very same instant, his hand holding the pick flicked sharply, dragging the flat edge hard against your overstimulated clit.
the dual explosion of the violent vibration and his sharp touch shattered you. a loud, broken moan tore from your throat as your body bucked wildly against his hands. a violent orgasm crashed over you, your inner thighs spasming uncontrollably as you flooded the hard wood of his instrument. you clutched him like a drowning person, your face buried in his neck, sobbing through the exhausting intensity of the release.
jay didn't move. he just held you tightly against him, letting you shiver and break, listening to your ragged gasps with a quiet hum.
when the worst of the tremors finally began to fade, leaving you hollow and completely spent, he slowly let go of your hips. he reached down, casually tossing the wet guitar pick onto the table, before sliding his hands under your thighs and lifting you off the instrument.
he set the guitar aside, letting it clatter carelessly against the floor, and pulled your limp body directly onto his lap. you slumped against his chest, too weak to even lift your head.
jay slowly ran his fingers through your hair, his touch surprisingly gentle, though his voice remained laced with that same mocking warmth.
"look at the mess you made of my guitar, sweetheart." he murmured, his breath hot against your ear as he pressed a possessive kiss to your temple. "i guess you're going to have to clean that up, too. but first..."
his hand slid down your back, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your hip, pulling you flush against the hard bulge of his jeans. "you're going to have to thank me."
you shivered against him, your forehead still pressed into his neck as your chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. below you, the thick ridge of his jeans pressed right against your freshly ruined core.
the contrast was absolute torture. every tiny twitch of his thighs sent a jolt of electricity straight to your overstimulated nerves, making your hips shudder helplessly on his lap.
"i'm waiting, y/n." jay murmured. his large hand slid up your thigh, his calloused thumb digging deliberately into the sensitive flesh of your inner leg, forcing them wider. "where is my thank you?"
you swallowed hard, your throat tight with a humiliating mixture of tears and burning lust. you wanted to fight him. you wanted to claw at his chest and scream at him for being so unbelievably cruel. but you were too far gone. he had stripped away every single defense you had, leaving you completely raw.
"thank you..." you whispered, your voice cracking pathetically. "thank you, jay."
a condescending chuckle vibrated against your chest. jay tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours with a look of pure triumph. "is that it?" he rasped, his hand sliding further up, his fingers brushing the wet warmth between your thighs, making you gasp and arch into his hand. "sounds a little half-hearted. especially after you made such a disgusting mess of my gear."
"jay, please." you begged, your hands clenching the leather of his jacket as you desperately ground your hips down against his hand, trying to force his fingers inside you. "i can't... please, i need you. inside me. now."
"you're so greedy." he purred, his fingers teasing the very edge of your wetness but refusing to slide in, intentionally keeping you hovering on the edge of madness. "you spent months pretending you weren’t even looking at me, and now you’re begging like a dog on my lap. do you want to feel how big i am compared to that little plastic toy? is that it?"
"fuck, jay. please." you begged, completely abandoned to the filth of his words.
that did it. the last thread of jay's mocking restraint finally snapped. his dark eyes flared with a vicious hunger, his breathing turning incredibly heavy. in one swift, incredibly rough motion, he grabbed your waist and flipped you over, slamming your back flat against the leather couch. the impact knocked the wind out of your lungs, but before you could even inhale, jay was hovering over you, his heavy body pinning you down.
he didn't waste any time. he reached down and aggressively ripped his belt open, the metallic clinking of his buckle sounding incredibly loud in the dark room. he shoved his jeans down, exposing his pulsing cock, already slick and fully prepared to ruin you.
"you said you've been waiting for this for months, right?" jay rasped, his voice entirely stripped of its quiet playfulness. he grabbed both of your knees, brutally pushing them up toward your chest, exposing you completely beneath him. "let's see if you can actually handle it, or if you're just all talk."
"jay-"
you didn't even get to finish his name. jay leaned down, his large hand wrapping firmly around your throat to keep you still, and plunged himself straight into you in one deep, merciless thrust.
a choked cry tore from your throat as your eyes rolled back. he was massive, stretching you to your absolute limit, filling the aching void that had been torturing you for weeks. the friction was so intense, so violently good, that your hips immediately tried to rise to meet him.
but jay kept you pinned, his hand on your throat tightening just enough to command your absolute obedience. "don't move." he growled, a possessive sneer on his lips as he began to pull back and thrust into you again, harder this time. the slapping sound of his skin against yours filled the quiet loft, dirty and loud. "just lie there and take it."
he began to pace himself with a brutal rhythm, his thrusts heavy and deep, bottoming out against you with a force that made the entire couch shake. every time he slammed into you, his silver rings bit into the skin of your hips, leaving bruises that would remind you of this night for weeks.
"look at me." he commanded roughly, slamming into you so hard your head bounced against the leather cushion. "look at me while i finally fuck you, y/n."
you opened your tear-filled eyes, staring up at his beautiful face. he looked absolutely lethal in the dim light — his jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his neck, his dark eyes locked onto yours with a consuming intensity. he was mocking you, degrading you, treating you like nothing more than a place to release his own dirty urges, and yet you had never felt so utterly alive.
"you're so tight." jay growled, his pace turning fast and frantic, his control finally fracturing under the sheer heat of your wet walls crushing around him. he leaned down, his mouth catching yours in a bruising kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as roughly as his lower half was splitting you open.
you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in as deep as he could possibly go, a shattered moan muffling against his lips. he bit down hard on your bottom lip before pulling back just enough to look down at you, his breathing heavy and ragged, his hips never slowing down for a single second.
"you really thought you were subtle, didn't you?" he rasped, his voice dripping with that arrogant tone as he slammed back into you, making your entire body jolt against the leather. "every single thursday night. standing in the shadowy corner behind the bar, pretending to clean the same spot on the counter for twenty minutes straight."
your eyes widened slightly through your tears, a soft sob breaking out of your chest as his words laid you completely bare.
"i saw you every fucking time, y/n." he growled, a wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips as he thrust deeper, hitting that exact sensitive spot inside you until your toes curled. "watching my hands on the fretboard. biting your lip like a pathetic little stalker. wondering if i'd ever notice you."
"jay..." you choked out, your hands digging into his shoulders, trying to endure the agonizing perfection of his relentless rhythm.
"i knew exactly what you were doing." he purred, leaning down to drag his teeth over your sensitive pulse point while his lower half brutally worked you open. "i let you sit there and starve on purpose. and look at you now, so fucking desperate you're taking every inch of me on my couch."
he tightened his hand around your throat, not enough to cut off your air, but just enough to force your head back as his thrusts turned fast, brutal, and completely merciless. the sound of your wet center clinging to him mixed with the heavy creak of the couch frame echoed loudly through the dark loft.
"tell me i was worth the wait." he commanded roughly, his dark eyes burning into yours as he pounded into you with relentless force. "tell me how much better this is than your little fantasies."
"it's... fuck, jay, it's so much better." you sobbed, completely unraveled, your hips desperately lifting to meet every devastating strike of his body. "please... don't stop..."
"i'm not stopping until i completely ruin you." he growled against your skin.
he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, opening you up even wider, and drove himself in so hard your vision blurred. the sudden angle sent a blinding spike of pure ecstasy straight to your core. your inner walls squeezed him violently, contracting in am uncontrollable spasm.
jay let out a guttural curse, his jaw clenching as your tightness threatened to snap his restraint. "yeah, just like that. squeeze me, sweetheart. show me how much you needed this."
the words were still vibrating against your skin when your vision completely shattered into white-hot sparks. you let out a broken scream, your fingers clawing violently at his shoulders, tearing at his shirt as the orgasm ripped through you. your inner walls clamped down on his thick length like a vice, pulsing in frantic waves that made him growl out loud, his neck straining as he fought his own release.
but jay didn't let you enjoy the finish. he didn't slow down, and he didn't give you a single second to breathe. instead, he kept driving himself into you, his heavy hips slamming against yours with a brutal force, mercilessly pounding straight into your freshly oversensitive core.
"f-fuck, jay! stop- please. too much!" you sobbed, your head thrashing against the leather cushion as the pleasure turned so sharp it was almost painful. every heavy thrust felt like electricity shooting straight to your brain.
"stop?" he mocked, a cruel laugh escaping his lips. he leaned down, his sweat dripping onto your chest, his dark eyes wide and completely feral in the shadows. "when you spent months begging for this?"
he hit that deep spot again, hard, as you let out a high whine, your thighs shaking so violently they were practically vibrating.
"look at you." he rasped, his voice dripping with absolute satisfaction. "so fucking pathetic. crying and shaking over my cock like it's the only thing keeping you alive. is it, y/n? is this the only thing you've been thinking about while you were serving my band?"
"jay…" you wept, completely stripped of any remaining self-respect, your hands clutching helplessly at his hair. "yes, jay, please..."
"such a dirty little thing." he purred, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips, leaving deep marks as he kept up the punishing pace. "you're making a fucking mess of my leather, fuck."
you couldn't even answer him. all you could do was let out useless whimpers as he mercilessly worked you over, his heavy body crushing you into the cushions. the relentless friction of your overstimulated clit against his pelvis was too much. another wave of heat started building immediately, tighter and even more desperate than the first.
"that's it." jay growled, his own breathing turning incredibly shallow, his chest heaving as he felt your inner walls starting to spasm tightly around him again. "come again for me. let me feel how easy you are."
he grabbed your other leg, shoving both of your knees practically to your chest, folding you completely in half as he delivered three final, devastatingly deep thrusts.
your voice broke completely, a shattered sob tearing from your throat as you crashed over the edge for a second time, your core clenching around him in a tight grip. the sheer intensity of your climax finally broke jay's remaining control. he let out a guttural roar, his body locking up as he gave one last, bruising thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you as he flooded you with his hot release.
"fucking hell, y/n…" jay moaned as he finished inside you, completely breathless, locking his dark eyes onto yours with a terrifyingly intimate intensity.
the quiet that followed didn't feel like relief. it dropped over the dark loft like lead, drowning out the electric hum of the amp on the floor.
for a long moment, he didn't pull away. his weight stayed heavy against you, his forehead pressed into the crook of your neck, his chest heaving in ragged pulses that mirrored your own. the arrogant edge in his posture had fractured — just for a fraction of a second — leaving only the harsh heat of his skin and the violent rhythm of his pulse hammering against your jaw.
in the dark, you couldn't tell where the friction ended and the silence began. you lay there trapped beneath him, your heart thrashing against your ribs, desperately searching his face for any slip in his composure, any proof that he had lost himself to you as completely as you had lost yourself to him.
then, slowly, the dark closed back in.
jay lifted his head. the amber streetlamp light filtered through the rain-streaked windowpane, catching the sharp contour of his jaw and the damp fringe of hair clinging to his forehead. the feral hunger that had consumed him vanished as quickly as it had arrived, slipping smoothly back behind that unbothered calm.
he slid his hand slowly up your throat, his thumb dragging across the flushed heat of your cheek with gentle weight. he didn't say a word right away. he just stared down at you, taking in the absolute ruin of your posture, the lingering tremble in your legs, the quiet tears drying on your temples.
he had given you everything you had spent agonizing months starving for. he had pulled you into the dark and undone you piece by piece.
as he finally leaned down, his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper that made your stomach twist.
"let's see if you can still look away next thursday, sweetheart."
what happens when you sneak into jay's bedroom to let him finish what he started? maybe you'll finally get to see the man who has been hiding his desires longer than you realized....
pairing ❀˖° parkjongseong x fem!reader
warning ❀˖° 18+, smut, mdni, pinv!, unprotected!sex(don't do this!), explicit content, dom!jay, sneaky!sex, cheating, sub!reader, sexual tension, roommate'sbestfriend!jay, obsessed!jay, voyeurism, stuffing panties in mouth, pussy!eating, doggystyle!, clothedsex!
playlist ❀˖° click here!
word count ❀˖° 10.7k
lolli's notes ❀˖° holy shit this is actually fucking terrible but ur wishes have been granted! I present pt 2! I am sorry I took so long, times are rough out here....love you all mwah! not really proofread.
"jay? dude are you in here?" he hears his roommates soft voice phasing through his door. they knock a few times, still not earning an answer from jay.
jay leans against his door, feeling the knocks on the back of his head. he feels his heart pounding in his chest, from the adrenaline but also from the panic. he recounts the events before his roommate ruined the moment. the way you were squirming, your thighs locking onto his head to the point where he couldn't escape (not like he wanted to), your soft sweet moans that curl into his ears that made him more riled up by the second — he was getting hard just thinking about you again.
"shit…" jay looks down at his pants, a visible bulge forming. "fuckfuckfuck" he quietly curses to himself, not knowing that his roommate was calling him. "jay?!" his roommate bangs on the door, putting full force. jay snaps out of his thoughts when he was forced to snap back to reality. jay opens the door slightly, only revealing his head as his roommate was mid knock. "what's up?" he casually says. "omg dude are you deaf or something?" he scoffs, just as jay was about to open his mouth, he was interrupted by them showing whatever they bought from the grocery store. "i know you said you didn't want anything but i got you some candy." you hear the crackle of plastic crumbling as they swung it over his face.
jay immediately grabs it and lets out a small thank you, but just as he was about to close the door, a hard smack banged against the hard surface, causing him to flinch. "did you go in my room?" they furrow their eyebrows. jay's heart immediately drops but he holds himself up. "no why?" his eyes turning innocent.
" the door is slightly open and i swear i left the door closed before i left. are you sure you didn't go in?"
"nah man, i was in my room the entire time you were gone. maybe you didn't close it properly." his roommate stares at him, noticing the way he nods his head as it peeks out from the door, seemingly pre-occupied.
"huh. maybe I did." the silence becomes awkward for a few seconds before the conservation becomes something. "well — thanks for the candy man, appreciate you." jay's hand peeks out from the door, dabbing them up before he closed the door behind him, letting out a sigh of a relief.
fuck that was close.
after that encounter, he stayed in his room every time you came over. the only time he showed his face is whenever he needed to grab something from the kitchen. he always avoided your presence like you were the plague. looking to see if the coast was clear before stepping out of his room, avoiding any sort of interaction, keeping a safe distance from you. whenever he was alone with you, he would make an excuse that sounded half assed because he was too embarrassed to face you even if his excuses sounded believable. he needed to get away as soon as possible.
every time he saw you, all he could envision was how your body was plated on the bed like a hot meal ready to be served, your thighs trembling as the vibrations rumbled deep inside you like it was massaging the deepest parts of your core, squirming with every buzz like time was infinite. he wasn't avoiding you cause he felt ashamed. no — it was because you knew what happened that night. how you knew it wasn't your boyfriend but it was him.
he didn't like confrontation, it was like facing his biggest fears and it was something that he wasn't ready to face. but his roommate was always inviting you over which made the situation even more impossible to avoid. he was too scared to even look at you. but if you asked him if he regretted that moment — he would say no, despite the fact he was hiding out like it was hibernation season.
he didn't even ponder on the thought of what if you liked it or you hated him for what he did. no, just the thought of you hating him was the last thing he wanted to see.
he assumed that you saw him differently for what he did, ruining a relationship that was stable but little did he know that you couldn't stop thinking about that moment.
the way he was so gentle, so comforting like he was truly relishing your body, so pure, soft like a cloud. so when he started avoiding you — you couldn't help but be amused. how cute it was whenever jay would speed pass you or stutter whenever you tried talking to him. the way he tried to keep himself composed and tried talking to you like nothing was wrong, it made you craved him more.
you felt shameful for thinking about another man but at the same time, you couldn't care less. you wanted more. you wanted him to finish what he started even if it meant jeopardizing your relationship.
so you started wearing clothes that exposed your soft skin: skin tight that clung onto you, molded onto your frame, skirts that were so short that they could pass up as belts, and shirts that always showed cleavage.
and as expected he would stare, eyes dilating, mouth agape. he would scan your body from head to toe, taken aback with how gorgeous you looked, completely head over heels and truly starstruck. sometimes, he doesn't even realize how long he's been staring until his roommate starts speaking. and you always catch him being entranced at the sight of you, seeing his chest stutter as he takes a deep breath, jaw clenched, eyes fluttering until he realizes that he has been staring for too long, slightly shaking his head to get out of this trance. a cute habit makes you smile.
your boyfriend didn't find it weird or out of place. he always saw you naked which was always something that jay envied. jay never wanted to be presented as a perverted person, but when it came to you, he was betraying every word, every thought that was restraining him to look away, cover his eyes like looking was a sin.
and one way to fix it is by hiding in his room.
but he knew that tactic wasn't always going to work, especially when you stay until the clock hits midnight or end up sleeping over.
and he could hear you.
the bed creaking, the soft slaps of skin on skin, the way the walls couldn't drown out the sound — it was infuriating. he would turn to the side, covering his ears with his pillow and closing his eyes. but that never worked. trying to force himself to ignore the noise but the soft foam against his ears somehow made the noise even more vulgar. forcing himself to listen even if he told his mind not to but deep down, he wanted to hear you, in ways that he envisions himself beneath you, pumping you full, feeling his bulge swell underneath your skin as he places his hand on your stomach, stuffing his cream inside of you like you were made to bury his seed. but that was nothing more than a mere fantasy.
as he hated to admit, it was always made him rock hard. he tried ignoring the aching pain but it was throbbing so much. he kept tossing and turning so much to the point where the sheets felt uncomfortable on his skin. his clothes became nothing but a distraction, a barrier that held him down and made him irritated. his body was building up an insufferable heat that felt like an itch he couldn't scratch off, a warmth that pounds through his exterior, curated on his skin like it was branding him. the fever that will always come back even if he cools it off. it was tucked into the walls of his skin, where he couldn't grasp.
impossible to avoid. and it only spreads into places he doesn't want it to reach. it tickles through his veins, sending a wave of pleasure that made him whine in ache.
he had to relieve the pain.
he pulls down his sweatpants until his cock was fully exposed. his aching tip was dripping with pre-cum, slightly twitching as your moans were phasing through the walls. every sound makes his body shiver like he was chasing for your touch. he softly grips the base, shuddering as the sensitivity felt like he was being electrocuted, nerves thumping through his skin. he starts stroking, a hot rush of blood surges through, pulsing against his hand. he shudders with every sheer contact, his breath hitches like he felt something cold. he closes his eyes, focusing on your moans that pound through his ears. he lets his imagination run wild, thinking about the possible ways he could have you: eating you out until you had nothing left in you, lying on your back as he ruthlessly pounds into you or he lies down on the bed while he watches you ride him. he groans shamelessly at the thought of it.
your soft silken skin with your slick coating his tongue, dripping like honey. with your legs closing around his head, trapping his source of oxygen as he laps his tongue on your sweet folds, alternating between slow, hypnotizing strokes to kitten licks that creates a cold shiver to flow through your body. he feels his dick twitch at the mere thought, the unhinged thought of thinking about his roommate's girlfriend in the most perverted ways — it felt invading but, at the same time, it felt like the only way to cure this aching need. he practically whimpers at the thought of you, showing up as desperate but he doesn't care, not when he was inching closer to having you to himself — until his roommate decided to come home when everything was starting to heat up.
he fucking hates them for coming home but he realizes what he was doing was betrayal.
but a part of him doesn't feel guilty or gives a fuck.
not when he had a choice. imagine the one thing you desired the most that kept you awake almost every night and was the cause of the insufferable ache that needed to be cured was right in front of you.
would you rather suffer or get cured?
he knew it was wrong but something he always kept in the back of his mind was: always trust your gut — it always tells you the truth.
and his gut knew what he truly desired.
"oh fuck…." the thought made him shudder, desperately whining just to feel touched by you. he wishes that you were the one bringing him to his limit, he doesn't care if you edged or teased him until he fully broke. he was desperately begging at this point for you to notice him, to see the signs of how much he wanted you.
he would give you everything you need, craved, wanted. like an act of service. he would do anything just to get a crumb of your attention.
the obscene sounds of his moans were filling up the room, the air thickening as he beated his dick until it became lump . the stickiness of his warmth was coating his hand, showing how his arousal was overturning every thought he had in his mind. he was so desperate, aching for his release to reach the finish line. it was so wrong, to be thinking in ways that his brain shouldn't be able to envision. he wanted your hands on his sensitive skin, a brush of your fingers against his — just the thought was already making his skin prickle with goosebumps and shudder against his soft bed sheets.
"mmf….fuck…h-holy shit—" he throws his head back against his soft pillow, eyes shut and teeth caught on his bottom lip. his muscles were tensing up as his breath became more ragged with every continuous push of his cock in between his hand. he could feel his stomach clenching and the unbearable ache rising up his body. his fingers begin to feel weak and ticklish like his nerves couldn't handle the overstimulation.
and then a strong wave of pleasure washes over him and his pent up frustration releases, dripping down the structure of his dick as his hand drowns in his own pleasure. he slowly opens his eyes, hot flashes of sparkles spread his vision. the blurriness begins to pulse with every blink he forces himself to recover. the deep inhales couldn't stop his fluttering heart and his own ache was still spilling out of him. his clothes were damped with his sweat, clinging onto him like it was merging with his skin. his eyes stare up at the ceiling like it was staring back at him, looking with shame.
he looks at the state of his body, it reeks with guilt, experiencing the aftershocks like they were branded on his skin. the warm fluid begins to feel sickening like they weren't meant to be paint his body. all it brought was shame, pleasure, and a hunger for more. he looks at his messy hand with drunk-filled eyes, he sighs out of frustration when he realizes that he needed to clean up.
jay waits for few seconds, focusing on the background noise as his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. he waits for a few beats or a rhythm that indicated a signal to make his move. he curses at himself for running out of his tissues this one time he really needed them.
he lifts himself, using his elbows to push himself off the bed, using all the core strength he had left. his vision becomes hazy as his head begins to pulse at the sudden movement. he wishes that the walls weren't so thin that he can absolutely hear every squeak, rumble and squeals that was phasing through the walls. he can still hear you but he needed to clean up before raising any suspicion.
he lets his clothes mold onto his frame without laying his hands on them. his hair was a slight mess but nothing that seemed out of place. he pulls up his boxers along with his sweatpants. he walks to the door with hushed footsteps, grasping the door handle with a grip so tight to get a better precision. he slowly turns the knob, focusing on every shift as the door slowly unlatched. he takes a peak at his roommate's door, there was a small crack but it covered the view of jay's position from the outside, he slowly peaked out of his room, heading towards the door but the erotic sounds of your voice mixed with the bed creaking only made his body jumped in curiosity. he stares at the door across from him for mere seconds until his mind spirals deep into thought. your voice only surges louder in his brain, it echoes endlessly causing his body fluster with heat, the same one that he couldn't shake off his body.
he swallows a lump down his throat as his legs had a mind of their own, answering a question in his mind he refused to accept. as he roams closer and closer, the small crack became visible of the scene. the noises only got louder and endless.
"o-oh shit!" your voice curled into a squeal as jay takes light footsteps, his feet sticking onto the hardwood floors like they were trying to stop him from seeing what could possibly make him even more flustered. from the angle he was in, all he could see was the bed pulsing against the rhythm of skin contact he could hear, his eyes wander until he leaned his body against the door frame, fully getting a show that made his eyes widened and mouth slightly ajar.
he sees your body placed on top of his roommate, his body positioned where his head was laying on the foot of the bed, facing directly away from the door. jay watches how his roommate's hands were swarming all over your perfect body, hands dragging along the side of your torso, inching their way towards your breasts while jay's eyes only stared at your body like it was something he wished he could hold and cherish like time had stopped.
the beating in his chest slowly began to panic, his skin turns into a hot, flushed mess, the heat begins to bloom through his body as the scene became something more than he could handle. the ache began to stir in his stomach while the blood rushes down to his now throbbing dick. he stares at you to the point where his mind became a blur he couldn't hear and a conscious his body couldn't lift.
he was stuck in a trance by watching you move so swiftly, making it more like a love-making session rather than losing your minds. you moved so fluidly like the air was commanding to your rhythm. you tilt your head back as you were getting lost in the moment and jay watches with a careful gaze.
his body started heat up again, all flustered and dazed. his pants start to feel tight and an ache starts to build up. he swallows the lump in his throat, trying the push the feeling down. his hand began to drift down to his clothed crotch, palming himself as he stared at you with nothing but lust in his eyes.
jay could only imagine what you must feel like, soft, warm and sweet as honey. yet, imagination was the only thing he could conquer even if he found it upsetting . jealousy couldn't describe what he was feeling in the pit of his stomach. the feeling of pleasure couldn't even coincide with the envy he felt.
he couldn't even be bothered to be angry, he was too dazed to even fathom the overwhelming emotions. more importantly, he couldn't stay a moment longer watching another man in your embrace.
as he finished cleaning up, he plops down on his bed again, staring at the ceiling. he began to ponder for a moment, feeling a whiff of sadness wash over him.
he didn't know if the guilt was from betraying his roommate or from the fact that you probably saw him differently, ruining a relationship that he shouldn't have ever touched in the first place.
💀
you stare up at the ceiling, the pull of drowsiness hasn't forced your eyes shut and you lay on your boyfriend's bed like you shouldn't even be here. your eyes were wide open, blinking slowly, forcing the pull of fatigue but as your eyelids close for a few seconds, you became even more frustrated.
you couldn't sleep, you couldn't tell how many hours has passed, you look towards your boyfriend, sleeping soundly. a few quiet snores escaping as his cheat softly heaved up and down. the room was silent and the air was a bit cold as you shifted on the bed, feeling the warmth of your body as you turned away, facing the opposite direction of your boyfriend.
your cheek graze on the cold cloth of your pillow, sending a soft shiver down your spine. the room was so quiet; you could hear the silent pulse of your heart and the rhythmic breaths of your boyfriend.
but your body wasn't tired and your eyes weren't drooping.
every shift of your body, shutting your eyes out of force — sleep never came.
your mind wasn't letting you.
every time you closed your eyes, your mind wasn't letting you. it was making you frustrated and telling you to get up. although, the soft cozy warmth was making it hard for you to stand, instead, your mind wanders. you wondered if jay was awake at this time especially with how loud you were late at this time, you forgot that jay wasn't too far from you.
just as the thought of him hearing you made your thighs clench together.
did he hear you?
you wondered if he did. did he touch himself? did he hear how desperate you were?
you could only imagine, and you wanted to know more.
-
he tosses and turns, his arousal still lingering and sensitive. he sighs out of frustration, still feeling shivers from his orgasm. he closes his eyes, trying to let sleep consume over his body but all he could think about was you and you were riding and moaning-
knock knock
his eyes cracked open, darting towards the door. he stares for a few seconds, wondering if he was hearing things. then, a soft pair of knocks pressed against the door once again "what the-" he gets up, walking towards where the source of sound was coming from.
"yes dude what do you—I- woah, what are you doing here????"
"I couldn't sleep. he's snoring so loud. sorry, was i bothering you, I can just—"
"no! uhh I mean no no, you weren't bothering me. I wasn't really doing much anyway, so what's up?
"is it okay if I sleep with you tonight?"
"like— with me in my bed?"
"of course you silly, who else? if that's not weird?"
"uhh no no not at all. i would let you but i don't know if he'll be okay with that." he pauses. "well i can just sleep in the living room while you sleep on my bed—"
"oh no no please, I don't wanna kick you out of your own room. if it's too much trouble I can just sleep in the living room."
"no! uhh sorry I mean— I'll feel guilty if you sleep in the living room but what will he think? I mean he'll kill me."
"I won't say anything and besides, it'll only be for tonight." the word "tonight" only made jay's mind drift into something more lewd even though they were far from it.
"I-"
"please.."
"i don't know y/n—"
"please jay…." you give him a pouty face as you jutted your lower lip and just as you expected, he stuttered.
"I- umm I— alright come in." you smiled as you walked into his room. your approach was silent, it was seductive but effortless like you controlled the room. he silently starts praying to himself as he gently closes the door behind him, his back colliding against the hard wooden surface. out of instinct, his eyes immediately dart to your night attire, his lips part and then lets out a shuddered breath. he shamelessly stared at your legs, admiring the way they looked so plump and fluffy that made him shiver with arousal.
he silently curses to himself as you looked around his room, inspecting it like you've entered something you shouldn't have. jay starts to panic like he couldn't believe the girl he yearned for was two steps away from him. he convinced himself that this was probably a dream and by the time he blinks, you would disappear — but you didn't.
your voice sounded too real, your presence was too distracting for him to convince himself that you weren't real.
much to his horror, this was more than just a dream. it was a universe that he always fantasized of, one where you and him existed into something more than just strangers but glanced at one another like love mended into something that neither you and jay could explain.
his heart was exploding, flooding in his ears like it was warning him that something dangerous was going to happen. the air in the room changed, it became annoyingly hot and stuffy, constantly messing with jay's brain as he began to feel suffocated by his own clothes. he felt a burning rush of heat soiling through his skin, his own arousal staining his clothes. his nerves thrumming in his skin, control slipping through his grasp the more he stared at you.
you analyzed his room like you were examining every part of him. he only gulps to trying to hide his anxiety, silently praying that he doesn't make a wrong move.
"you have a nice room, its very cozy." as soon as you entered, you were surprised by the contrast between jay's and your boyfriend's room. you don't know if you were surprised by the fact that jay's room was a lot cleaner, he doesn't step outside unless he was getting something from the kitchen or if he needed to go to the bathroom.
your eyes continue to inspect his room until you finally settled on him. he doesn't lock eyes with you as he looks passed you or anywhere that seemed interesting. he stood awkwardly as the burning rush of your eyes were staring into his body.
"thanks, i try to manage…you know cleaning" his eyes dart to you for a second before breaking the silence. his heart almost stops when you made eye contact, paired with a smile that sent a soft shiver down his spine.
"well you can make yourself comfortable, I can just sleep on the beanbag. if you need any extra blankets or anything else, just let me know."
you leaned against his desk as he walked towards his closet to get more blankets and pillows like it was an automatic response. "does he know?" and just as you broke the silence in the room, you watched the way jay hesitated in his footsteps before he played it off like it never fazed him. but in reality, jay's heart stopped for a second as those words started to scramble with his brain.
"does who know..?" he swallows the huge lump in his throat while he silently prays to himself as his back faces towards you.
"about what happened." you broke the barriers once again, watching jay unravel little by little.
"I don't follow.."
"you're cute.."
"w-what..?"
"pretending not to know about what happened."
"I don't know what you're talking about.."
"you can say that all you want but we both know that you know exactly what I'm talking about." the air in the room only thickens as the your words reaches his ears, causing him to dissociate with his own consciousness. you watched his face falter with nervousness and it was a sign that he knew exactly what you were talking about.
you watched how his eyes drifted lower, specifically on your body and how he takes a deep breath in like the moment was too livid. you pushed yourself off his desk and slowly walked towards him, and just as you took a step forward, he immediately tensed up and slowly backed up against his closet door
he was taller than you and could easily handle you like a rag doll, but in the moment he felt small and weak. "c'mon jay….talk to me." your voice, sultry sweet to his ears like honey. he couldn't dare look at you, it was too much for him to bear so he looked down at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
he still couldn't dare look up at you. you were like a walking reminder of how his consequences were finally coming to haunt him. you smile as he was still trying to deny everything, he could deny it all he wanted but the truth would soon unveil.
"that was a mistake."
"was it?"
"tell me jay, was it a mistake?" the distance between you was dangerous, in his mind, nothing could convince him that any of his actions were a mistake, not when the tension only grew and the moment got heated. when he fights the courage to finally look at you, his eyes immediately locked in with yours, and the only thing he could see in those pearly wide pupils was the remnants of that day.
you didn't look disgusted, nor did you look at him with hatred. instead, all he was the same desire he was craving for, the answer he was begging to hear, the moment where he wanted to stare at you without having an eye creeping down his neck. you batted your eyelashes, somehow hypnotic and your eyes catches the way they shift from your eyes to your lips.
you could feel the way his body was taut, trying to control the urges he had in him, he could only stand there in silence as the distance between your body and his, was trying to speak the unresolved tension.
you waited for about a breath, about to give up. you sighed, turning your back from him, and just as you were about to take a step forward, you feel his hand on your wrist, spinning around and to your surprise, he swiftly caught you with his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him.
your hands were flat on his chest and you could feel the pattern of his heartbeat growing faster and faster like a ticking time bomb. you looked at him confused and by a glance, your face turned into shock when he kissed you.
it only took a few seconds for you to melt into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck as his hands were glued to your waist. you softly whimpered as his rough movements were something that you weren't used to.
his kisses were hungry but also careful. you feel every control, the grips getting tighter around your body, almost like a wave of possessiveness crashed onto him. you feel him tilt his head to deepen the kiss, angling his mouth to get a better taste as his tongue was exploring every crevice and shape of your mouth like he was devouring to taste more of you, to leave the taste of him on your mouth.
"jay-" your lips part from his for a quick second but he doesn't let you speak. his tongue was tangling with yours as careful hands stick onto the fabric of your nightgown, riding up your thighs, slowly revealing your panties. you feel one of his hands slowly gliding lower and lower, reaching closer to your sensitive parts.
you shiver at the cold sensation of his fingers grazing onto the thin fabric and jay smirks into the kiss as he feels your body twitch and you gasp lightly.
the soft pads of his fingers continue to graze against your soft pussy lips, jay practically groans at how wet you are, already soaking through, creating a wet patch of your arousal.
he can feel your slick leaking onto his fingers, gently rubbing circles which made you gasp even more intensely.
"you're so wet baby…" he mutters in between kisses and the only thing he could think about was sinking his fingers inside of you, imaging the way your walls instinctively clench at the lightest graze like you were trying to remember his touch and only his. "you're practically dripping…..all this from kissing?" his soft lips detach from yours, the soft flesh peeling off yours like a soft retreat, his breath grazing your swollen lips. a dark gleam of lust shines over his eyes like the shy facade you saw from before was never there.
"or…. is the thought of kissing your boyfriend's roommate turning you on." you feel your heart palpitate faster, and the words only make your knees buckle, giving him an answer you could never admit. he chuckles at the reaction of your body and the subtle hitch of your breath was giving him all that he needed to know. the bold act you painted on your face was replaced with shyness like you and him switched moods — returning the desire of your own arousal that you wanted to break. the room is quieter, the air has thicken, and the sounds of your soft, ragged breathing was the aftermath of the desires that were still meant to be explored. his lustful gaze turned into something softer, looking at you like you were the most precious thing he's ever held. but the moment he blinks, it becomes something more darker, more raw of emotions that he couldn't contain, looking at you that makes your throat run dry and the words you want to voice out suddenly couldn't escape your lips.
"oh? acting all shy on me? what happened to wanting to find out the truth…..cat got your tongue?" you noticed how he was able to hold his gaze, his features softening with patience as the weight of his stare never made you uncomfortable but conflicted and apprehensive of your choice of words.
"n-no.." you softy gasp as the friction pooling on your lower body was making you feel dizzy.
"c'mon baby….talk to me." you feel your strength slipping away from your grasp, the pulse in between your legs was growing intense and unbearable.
jay watches as your composure was dozing off, your hands were clutching onto his shirt, using it as a support mechanism as you were fighting back against the intoxicating pleasure.
"tell me what you want. use your words." the hand that was gripped around your waist, slowly grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, exposing your soft, delicious neck.
his lips graze along your jaw-line, leaving feather-light kisses as he begins to anchor lower, kissing every surface of your neck. his warm breath was kissing your skin, adding more onto your pleasure that made it hard to brush off. your panties were practically carrying a pool of your slick as his fingers kept up the slow agonizing pace. your pussy was desperately aching to be pleasured, heat binding with your dripping arousal and your sweat coated skin. his lips were marking your skin with kisses that were bringing you closer to a state of bliss, lips warm and dangerously smooth.
"i-i want you…mmph.." a soft, stuttering gasp escapes your mouth, jay could feel the vibrations on his lips which only made him writhe with a crave for more.
"you're gonna have to be more specific babydoll.." he mutters against your skin, dripping with hunger.
"need you so bad jay….need you inside of me." your voice, soft and cursed. your nerves thrumming for desperation, your body only responding to his subtle touches. the friction was building up as he rubbed soft circles against your core, building a sweltering yet dizzying heat. you looked at him and all you could see was a man who was holding back for so long, not because of avoidance but because of build up tension.
never in a long time he would ever think his roommate's girlfriend would confront him in his own room. urgently trying to break this facade that you know is fake and a way to understand what he's really feeling. but you don't realize how bad he's been holding his urges like he knew that the smallest crack could potentially ruin his chances of a friendship he has built with you and he never wants to lose that.
so the only way he found to suppress any tension was by avoiding it all, not realizing how much worse that the choice was worse than confrontation.
jay felt surreal in the moment, like the impossible became the possible. the way you squirmed under his touch was a moment he waited for a long time, to feel even closer to you, instead of those slight grazes against your arm or accidentally bumping each other and his hands would find themselves on your waist to scoot past you like his subtle touches wouldn't send a rising heat on your skin.
in reality, he didn't really know exactly what you felt. the truth was never written in your face or it never pointed the obvious. but you grew quite fond of him, the way his voice was so gentle, his touch was so delicate like holding you was the most fragile thing, and it was. though, he wouldn't never touch something so fragile, worried that he would break or crack your shell.
but his touches were expressing the exact opposite, if you cracked, he would pick up the pieces that were neglected and glue them back together. but you were starting to falter like your control was wilting and submitting to every flick, graze that his skin against yours was igniting fire.
"say it again baby. i wanna hear you say it." his hot breath ghosts over your lips, stained from his excitement, his low voice spiked shivers down your spine.
"i want you inside of me please….I need you inside me so fucking bad." you whine and clutch against his shirt, biting your lip to hide your own noises. jay notices immediately and only smirked at the remark. the voice of your desperate aching voice was music to his ears and asking to be filled, satisfied — ruined.
his other hands find themselves on your neck again, bringing you closer as his soft plump lips connects with yours yet again, smirking as you could feel mutter a soft curse like he was trying to hold himself back.
"fuck…. i can't take it anymore, i need you right now." he picks you up and you let out a yelp as your lips were still connected, you wrap your legs around his waist as your arms were locked around his neck while your tongues were battling with desire.
he walks towards his bed, walking ever so gently as he stopped at the edge, carefully laying you down against the cold, perfect laid out sheets that was now wrinkled by the radiance of your warmth. your legs and his arms loosen around him, feeling his lips detach as they kiss through your fabricated figure, feeling the tenderness of his kisses burning through your barrier. you softly gasp as he aimed lower and lower, settling on the spot that he waited ages to be against.
you feel his nails brushing over your skin, your thighs slightly sensitive to the lightest touches that you shiver in response. it was subtle but tortuous, his warmth against yours only added to the overwhelming heat, your soft pussy lips begging to be touched, dripping along your fully soaked underwear which left a huge wet patch, almost like it was overflowing in your arousal.
his hands soon disappeared from under your nightgown dress, his knuckles pulsing through the fabric, hooking his fingers on the thin strips of the waistband of your underwear. you feel it lightly peel off your skin, exposing your core to the cold draft, making you softly gasp. you can feel a string of fluid stretching from your soaked core to your panties, softly separating. you feel the fabric gliding from your shins, to your ankles, to your feet before the feeling soon disappeared.
"open your mouth for me." and you followed the way he stuffs your soaked panties on your mouth. "don't want him hearing how much of a begging mess you'll be when I ruin you." he lowly growls and his tone was dangerous, almost foreshadowing of what's yet to come.
you watch how he almost salivates at the sight of your body like a plate of his favourite dessert was served. you swear his eyes dilated as he slowly lifted the bottom of your dress up your body, the fabric settling on your stomach as he licked his bottom lip, watching the way his adam's apple bobbed from how intensely he swallowed, you could feel his hunger from beneath you and how his muscles were so tensed just by being close to you. you don't know what's going through his mind but just as you met his eyes, the only thing you could see was pure desire.
he tugs you a bit to bring you closer to his face, you could feel his hot breath against your core and the patterns were soft but exaggerated like he was trying to calm himself down from doing something he cannot reverse. he was chasing onto something he couldn't wait to have, and your soft moans were enticing him further and further.
the last thing you see was his tongue darting out before you whipped your head back onto the mattress, feeling the warm, wet sensation licking a stripe of your slick, a good portion of your taste splurged on his tongue and he groans as your sweet taste.
he buries himself deeper into your exposed core, fully making out just as he did with you. you gasp at how his tongue was reaching in places that made you arch so intensely, you were almost choking on your moans.
the tip of his tongue was tickling your hole, feeling every flick as it lightly grazes the hollow entrance. his hands were glued onto your plump thighs, holding onto them like if he loosen his grip, you would disappear. he wanted to mark you, claim you as his own, imprint his hands in places that he wants you to remember.
he wanted the feeling of his touches to linger on your skin whenever you thought about him, whenever you would say his name, he wanted his name to be a constant reminder of how time turned the tension, biting at every second every-time your mind drifted to him, he was obsessed with you — more than he could ever express.
your legs feel a ping of pressure as his nails were pushing deeper, feeling your muscles protecting your exterior. your hands were clutching onto the sheets, the fabric was loosening from the tight restraint of the mattress. you didn't notice how loud you were getting, not when he was making you feel so good, almost like you were in a dream.
"shhh not too loud. don't wanna wake him up now." he stops, his warm breath brushing against you, your body twitches as you already missed the feeling of his lips pleasuring you, whining in response. "quiet down baby..you'll get what you want.." he softly pampers you, his silken tone making you crave even more.
he presses gentle kisses along your swollen folds, sending vibrations as you felt every groan, every lick. his tongue was working expertly, making you lose your mind every second, not realizing that your thighs were trapping his head in. he paid no attention to the fact that you were suffocating him, he groans, loving the way you've trapped him like you never wanted to let go.
and you whimper as the pleasure became unbearable to control. your toes curl as you can feel him inserting his tongue inside you, making you gasp, almost to the point you were choking on your own breath.
"mmm fuck!" moans muffled from your panties softening your voice. from the sounds you're making, it seemed like you were holding back. you wanted to scream — yell. you didn't care if your voice got hoarse, your body's control was getting consumed by jay's, piping every inch of you.
every plunge of his tongue made you tighten around him like a vacuum, wanting the sensation to linger, wanting to taste more of his touch. "you taste so good.." he mutters, alternating between sucking and fucking your aching hole like he was waiting for the trigger. he was so envious of his roommate, a sense of jealousy coiling in his stomach as your moans were fluttering in his ears; how could you taste so addicting.
a question that he couldn't decipher in his mind. he wondered a moment where he met you first, maybe his first time with you would be traditional, just like any other person who wanted to get to know someone for the first time. though, he couldn't complain because for the first time ever, you reciprocated his feelings or could it be called feelings?
it didn't matter to him, he could be your little secret or anything you want him to be. although, he wanted to build an connection, maybe getting to know you outside of short talk, subtle interactions — anything to get to close with you.
"mmmmf…i can't—" a soft whimper escapes, your body shivers out of sensitivity, his movements were deliberate, slow, in a way that he has been practicing for this exact moment, almost like he was following a playbook.
"sorry baby…you just taste so good, i can't help myself." your soft thighs were still squishing his head, they were so warm, so silky — he can literally fall asleep in between your legs. the way they tug against his head with every shift of his tongue, he could feel the intensity of pleasure rocking against your body, flinching like his touch was sparking flames through your skin. you gasp — deep and sharp, your mouth agape as the motions hit deeper in your core, not too intense but enough to earn another sharp gasp.
your panties were practically useless at this point, it couldn't shield the moans that were coming out but instead it was acting like decoration, with no sense of purpose. your hands fling their way onto his hair, grabbing a fistful of his silken strands, bundling in between your fingers.
you tug as a jolt of pleasure throws onto your body, causing him to hiss. his hair was messier, a few strands sticking up, purely a mess of your bliss. the pain was bearable but not enough to distract him, his soft patterns of hisses and breaths sent vibrations through you and his eyes look up at you with a dark, possessive feel to them.
his orbs were staring you with hunger but with admiration. in a way that makes him want more even though he knew he had to be careful. he couldn't let any evidence of him on you, not even the faintest mark or the slightest tint of flush on your skin. as much as he wanted to mark you as his own, he couldn't let himself reveal his truth on your body.
it was too risky.
though it was his second time where he was placed in between your legs. the moment seemed more livid, more intense. his heart flutters in his chest, he couldn't begin to fathom the feeling that was stirring up inside of him — was it adrenaline, anxiety or was it the anticipation?
he can feel his body heating up and the bulge in his pants growing tighter and tighter, with every breath he makes, it felt like his clothes were getting tighter like they were suffocating his arousal, trying to keep him grounded. it was getting too much, to the point where he could feel his urges slipping from his grasp like they were leading him to take what he truly wants, to listen to his own desire, to claim the thing he treasured most — even if he shielded himself.
the more he tastes you, the higher his arousal started to churn in the pit of his stomach, he knew he couldn't contain himself any longer, no matter how many times he tried to push it aside.
you tugged a bit harder on his hair when you finally feel a deep push of his tongue entering your aching hole. you gasp, sharp and deep — every breath choked by your pleasure and the pressure of arousal grasped your body like he wanted you to savour this feeling, to forget the sensation you felt before, wipe the lust that stuck onto you like glue.
"f-fuck…..mmmmph." you closed your eyes, trying to hold your breath and relax your body but your hands kept a tight iron grip on the sheets, muscles tightening under your skin. you feel the way his tongue moves inside you, slithering around your hollow core, feeling every pulse of your walls tightening around him. he was buried deep into your scent, he could taste how desperate you became, how your body was submitting to every touch like it was made to command every demand, every push and pull he makes like he found your trigger.
"i love the way your body squirms for me…i can feel you're getting close babydoll~" he smirks, feeling amused by your subtle flinches. you could only whine in response with your body giving all the answers he needed to hear.
he needed you to crumble, to break, to fill this sense of pride he was hiding. he wanted to prove he was better, way fucking better than what you already had, give you ten times the pleasure.
he wanted your eyes rolled back, voice hoarse to the point where your vocal cords completely lose all their power, your thighs shaking uncontrollably and your delicious moans that he wanted to salvage in.
he wanted his name to be chanted out like a prayer, listen to you begging him to slow down, weakly reaching out to ease off his rough control, touching his skin that would make him easily melt into your grasp. he wanted to feel it all — your desperation. your command to be pleased.
you could feel his tongue springing up and down slowly making your back arch, almost forming a "u" shaped curve. both of your hands were tugged on his hair, grabbing two fistfuls of his silken strands tangled in between your delicate fingers. your noises were getting louder and louder, almost to the point where the walls couldn't shield you.
you slowly began becoming careless, forgetting that you had to be quiet, only to be reminded by jay. "shhh quiet down princess." you whimper but you were irritated. you began to feel annoyed because you knew that jay was purposefully trying to make you yell, just to spite the tension. the room thickens with hunger as you begin to feel your climax, your thighs instinctively trapped his head as you feel his nose bumping against your clit as he sucks your swollen folds, alternating between kisses and flicking motions that tickled your gummy walls.
jay swore that he was going to cum in his pants just by hearing you squeal as he ravaged your overstimulated pussy. "j-jay p-please…" your words were muffled but he immediately understood that you were reaching your limit.
he continued to bury deep into your scent like he had a mission to complete. your core tightens, your stomach coils as you begin to shake. your grip on his hair became painful but he found it to be a pleasurable type of pain. much to your horror, his motions never slowed down, it only became faster and faster, flinching hard as he tickled your sensitive spots.
"mmph!" you spill all over his tongue, painting his mouth white. you feel your slick spill down your folds, streaming endlessly. you could feel him swallow every drop, licking every crevice.
your body begins to relax, the tension beginning to calm down. the muscles started to loosen up, your grip unwinding on his hair. your chest heaves up and down while your heartbeat was still rapidly pulsing, almost vibrating out of your skin.
you opened your legs a bit wider, releasing jay's head from your grasp. you feel a cold chill down your spine as the cool wind brushes against the warmth of his presence. a string of your juice disconnects from his lips, you looked down to see his mouth glisten as some of it also dripped down his chin.
judging by his face, he looked dazed like he couldn't form a single thought. he couldn't comprehend a single word to describe the moment, he was so infatuated like a kid who discovered the heavenly taste of ice cream. you saw how his hair was slightly messy but a bit more calmed down.
his eyes immediately locked onto yours and they were dark. heavy with possessiveness and you didn't know if you should feel scared or excited. he plants light kisses on the inside of your thighs, dangerously gentle as the warm wet feeling began to rise higher and higher. he bites the soft flesh, making you whimper. the indent leaving its mark, branding you.
he stands up, towering over your overstimulated body. in a flick of a switch, you found yourself flipped onto your stomach, causing you let out a small yelp. you felt his hands grip your waist, pulling your lower body towards him, positioning on all fours, aligning your ass with his crotch. you were faced towards a mirror, the sight was erotic — too sinful.
you were bent over by your boyfriend's roommate. and you didn't feel sort of remorse or any guilt. you were just as sick as jay. a fantasy that you could never turn back from.
your mouth was still stuffed with your panties, soaked in your saliva. through the mirror, you see him extending one of his arms and through your peripherals, his hand was flat like he was asking. "open your mouth." you obey, watching the soaked fabric fall onto his hand. he discards it on the floor, letting it rot. he watches you through the mirror, lowering his sweatpants just enough to reveal the aching tent hidden under his boxers. a graze of his hard on made you shiver, your pussy clenching around nothing out of pure excitement. you lowers his boxers, his dick slapping against his abdomen. it leaks with pre-cum, desperately aching to be relieved. he holds the base, tapping against your wet core. it glides in between your folds, the friction making your thighs wobble. "you're so wet….all this for me?" he chuckles as he coats himself with your juices.
"just put it inside of me." you answer with an annoyed tone.
SMACK!
a huge slap reverberates around the room, your ass flushed with a pink mark. you yelp in response, his playful smirk replaced with a terrifying expression. "say it nicely." a low growl, eyes snapped with desire.
the shy act he portrayed was no longer there, almost like someone possessed his body. or maybe you never knew this side of him. his gazes were gentle, his control was soft and reverent, almost too harmful. his heart never screamed rough or aggressive, he always came off as delicate, composed and sweet. his tone was always reassuring and soothing like a lullaby.
your boyfriend always described him as a placid soul. he was a quiet, reserved and kind of hard to figure it out. he preferred the quiet compared to distractions, solving things by himself rather than asking for help. he chose isolation but when it came to you, he wanted to break that.
he knew how to talk but his brain short circuits whenever he tries to. full rehearse sentences became stutters he couldn't control, his voice became softer and quieter like a whisper because he was scared of saying something that he know he'll regret. he wanted to start a connection but something was always holding him back, your boyfriend.
you wanted to figure him out, to learn — to taste.
"please put it inside of me…" you slowly backed your ass against his crotch, wiggling your hips just a bit. you feel his fingers tighten around your waist, feeling a seethe of frustration. he drags his tip along your folds, roaming closer to your entrance. your cum soaked entrance was painting his tip milky white, he pushes slowly, earning a soft whimper from your lips.
through the mirror, you watch how he bit on his lower lip and the way his eyebrows furrowed the more he inserted himself. you can feel every pressure of his hands as they grip tighter around your waist like the feeling was too much to bear. you moan softly, your legs shaking as he push his cock deeper.
your walls clenching hard around him like an iron grip, he groans at the warm sensation, throwing his head back. the feeling felt so euphoric, almost like he believed this was all a dream. he didn't know if this was reality or a dream he's been yearning for. his heart stutters in his chest, the room felt too hot, too suffocating, the more the pleasure became intense, the heat engulfs on his skin. what makes it worse is when the little noises you make whenever his hips make slight adjustments — his hunger becomes something he became scared about.
he was so touch deprived, he craved for your touch that seemed impossible to desire. the distance he felt with you was so close but yet so far. he didn't believe in that 1%, it seemed too unrealistic.
but maybe that 1% seemed achievable after all.
"shit you're so tight….tighter than i imagined." he seethes, groaning against you as he reached the end. his entire length was inside of you, your walls were so warm, toasty — comforting. he wanted to move so bad but he was worried if you weren't ready yet. "mmph…y-you're so big.." you whimpered, your face flushed and body trembling. your voice came out like a soft pamper, and jay swore he almost came just at the sound. "are you okay? if it's too much, i can just-" his voice immediately turned into panic.
"n-no no…i'm okay. i want this."
"are you sure?"
"yes." you whisper."
"if it gets too much, just tell me to stop and i will." the softness of his tone made you feel relieved, like the words just settled in places that felt tight on your skin, like the moment was something he wanted you to treasure and remember him by. your breath hitches when you started to feel movement, the slow glide of his hips as he pulls your body towards him in rhythmic patterns. each thrust was smooth and gentle, the type that makes you relish in the feeling more than ripping you out.
the slow intense pace was more intoxicating than the rough, rapid feeling you were used to. it felt more real and raw. it didn't feel like two people fucking to feel the pleasure but instead it felt like the pleasure was more than just feeling good. it was steady, careful and a connection that seemed to spark that just made your thighs and your body feel so tight. you arched your back, letting your chest lay against the mattress and your head faced down.
"o-oh fuck jay…" the sounds of skin against skin became more lewd as the room fell into silence. he watches how your body reacts to every move he made, your slick coated every inch of him as your walls made him more dizzy and interrupt his thoughts. jay groans as he leans lower, kissing your shoulders, leaving sweet inducing pecks all over you that make you shiver.
you feel his hot breath graze against his shoulders, murmuring sweet pampers that makes your stomach flutter. "you're so beautiful, so pretty, so addictive." you rose your head up, seeing the lewd scene of jay pounding into you sweetly, it almost felt invasive.
"you're so pretty for me baby…" you made eye contact through the mirror and his gaze looked so dangerous like sin was staring straight at you. you wanted to hide your flushed face but you hear his voice curling into your ears. "don't hide from me sweet girl….watch how i fuck you." he chuckles, analyzing the way your body shivers with every push and pull he makes. he stares at the sight, watching the way you unfold under his touch, speaking words that only made him want to hear more. he gives a few more sweet kisses along the back of your shoulders, each kiss creating a heat to surge through you as he continued to pump you full.
he lifts himself, kepping up the pace as he tried stabilizing your body to punch deeper into your core. you shriek, slamming a hand on your mouth to quiet your noises but it couldn't cover the mess he was bringing out of you. you felt hot, dizzy and overstimulated, his hands firmly on your waist, dick pulling in and out of you in steady motions. your breaths broken, matching with every beat that his hips make and you could barely keep your eyes open. your hands roamed around trying to find a nearest object to keep you quiet but you could barely register your control, it was slipping away from your grasp as the pleasure build deeper and deeper in your core. you bit your finger, hoping it was enough to quiet down.
jay snakes a hand gliding towards your neck, grabbing your hair like it was a leash, causing you to pull back a bit, forcing your eyes to look at the state he was putting you in. and you feel a twinge that made your body flinch, he was hitting your cervix and you gasp — sharp and broken. your lips part, a delicious high pitch moan that made jay want to swallow your noises, be the only noise he wanted to hear so he penetrates that exact same spot, making you yell even louder.
"j-jay….fuck….you feel so good.." you cry out, whining as you feel your body losing its last bit of strength. you could barely register a thought, the pleasure beginning to burn and reach for your limit.
"tell me do i fuck you better than him." he pants, in between thrusts, trying to chase the answer from you. your lips part but no words escape, just soft moans.
he kisses his teeth, slightly annoyed. he tugs your hair a bit. "don't make me repeat myself." his voice, stern and cold, making you yelp at the pain. "y-yes so much better — fuck!" he releases his grip from your hair and starts pounding into you faster and more harsher than before. the lewd noises of the mixture of your juices, they become louder with every shift of his thrusts. its hard and agonizingly addicting, it was hitting spots you didn't know that would make you trigger. it was tight, deliberate and precise.
his hands on your hips had a mean grip, dragging you into him harder, every angle only making the room feel hotter and your bodies drive themselves into their climaxes. he groans — broken and desperate. you can feel his pace growing sloppier but he was able to still control the rhythm. he was addicted to the way you were squeezing him so tight, the way your body crumbles beneath him like he was watching his motions were truly breaking through you.
the thought of claiming you was so wrong, so filthy. maybe he wasn't a good person than he was painted out to be, maybe he was never good, this whole time he was probably a liar, a hypocrite — or a narcissist.
"you're mine, you hear me. mine." the possessiveness grips onto him, hungry and desperate. his control grew tight with tension. his hips struck hard with brutal thrusts, he grunts, stuttering with your walls growing tighter. you were squeezing every last drop within him, he could sense that your limit was approaching.
you feel him twitching inside. sliding his cock in and out, creating friction that makes you weaker the more he creates tension. "you're taking me so good….mmp — fuck." his moans become louder, more broken as yours became more desperate for a release. "j-jay i'm getting c-close." you turned your head, watching how he was pumping you full and his eyes flutter as the pleasure became deep and sensitive.
"cum on my cock princess. cum for me." he commands, and the last minute he picked up the pace. the slaps of skin reverberated around the room, echoing with every thrust. your walls were clenching around him tight, your slick making it the pleasure grow sensitive as it spilled out of you, streaming down your thighs. "jay i'm gonna—" and then you spill all around him as he gives you the last remaining thrusts before you were painted with a hot milky substance filling you up to the brim. you rolled your hips a bit, pushing against him to store his fluids deeper. both of your voices die out and the vibration of your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear. your skin was hot and sweaty, face flushed, eyes fluttering.
"you okay?" he pushes your hair away from your neck, instantly feeling a nice breeze down your skin. "y-yeah just need to catch my breath." you were still held in the same position until you hear the door knob creak and the hard wooden panel door slowly unravel.
oh shit.
"hey bro have u seen—what the fuck."
you and jay freeze on the spot, looking with horror.
"h-hey man……you need something?" jay awkwardly chuckles.
oh he is so screwed.
lolli's notes ❀˖° pt 2 is finally out after god knows how long.....
lolli: you've completed the objective! what's your plan now? before you explore, proceed with caution. flashing lights might appear at times so be prepared in advance. have fun!!!
𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: chefinfluencer!jay x fem!reader
𝜗𝜚 SYNOPSIS: to stalk her ex on the internet, y/n decides to create sugar talking, a fake baking business account. she's not prepared to receive real orders or accidentally go viral. then a renowned cooking influencer reaches out for a collab. this strategy just got more complicated...
𝜗𝜚 PLAYLIST: link here 🩷
𝜗𝜚 CONTENT: angst angst angst (poor y/n is put through the wringer but she'll be in her healing era soon), y/n and jay mutually stalk each other's social media, mentions of past nudity and intimacy in essay y/n shares
𝜗𝜚 NOTES: everyone stream florescence this summer <33 i found that the essay y/n quotes on her story is by an author named brianna wiest, go and support her work! also thank you so much for the love you've given this wip already, it makes my heart warm <3
pairing :: park jongseong x fem!reader
warnings :: eventual smut, excessive fluff, possessiveness, non idol au, size diff (sorry i can’t stop), established relationship, petnames, food mentions, doggy (ironic), spanking, softdom!jay, pathetic!jay, manhandling, likkle bit of anal, cockwarming, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming
a/n :: i’m calling it rn france is Gonna win the world cup…. kitty mbappé fic coming up next (ime jk👀) yeah ALSO this is gonna look ugly if ur on dark mode
word count :: 2.2k
kitty!jay who always manages to find the warmest spot in the room, and somehow, it’s almost always you. if you’re sitting down, he’ll just quietly curl up against your side without saying anything, resting your head on his shoulder or tucking himself into your chest. he swears down he’s only there because it’s much more comfortable, but everyone knows he just likes being close to you :3
kitty!jay who absolutely loves slow mornings. he’ll always wake up before you do, but instead of getting out of bed, he’ll lie there quietly watching you sleep for a few minutes before gently brushing your hair away from your face. when you finally wake up, he’ll softly mumble, “morning, baby,” eyes sparkling with affection :3
kitty!jay who pretends he doesn’t want attention, but the second you stop petting his hair, he’s subtly leaning back into your hand. he’ll never ask you to keep going, instead he’ll just shift just enough that your fingers naturally end up running through his hair again. the tiny smirk he tries to hide gives him away every time :p
kitty!jay who loves just sitting in silence with you. you could both be doing completely different things for hours, barely speaking, and he’d still consider it quality time. every now and then he’ll glance over just to make sure you’re still there before quietly going back to whatever he was doing. he’s almost proud that you guys are able to spend time together like that, that you’re comfortable enough with him to understand without words what he wants and needs, and that you two can enjoy each other’s presence without having to fill it with meaningless small talk
kitty!jay who has a habit of silently appearing beside you. one second you’re alone making tea, the next he’s leaning against the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed, watching you with the softest most unguarded expression. when you ask how long he’s been standing there, he’ll just shrug and mutter, “not long,” every single time, even when you both know he’s quite clearly been there for several minutes, content to just stare at you :p
kitty!jay who gets quietly possessive in the smallest ways. if you’re sitting with someone else, he’ll casually take the empty seat beside you without saying a word, resting his knee against yours under the table. it’s never obvious enough for anyone to comment on, but you find it impossible not to notice the way his jaw ticks and his brows furrow as he presses his thicker thigh firmer against yours
kitty!jay who acts like your (often relentless) teasing doesn’t affect him, rolling his eyes and giving you the most unimpressed look imaginable. then, five minutes later, you’ll catch him smiling to himself because he keeps replaying whatever you said. he hates (loves) how easily you make him laugh and get him flustered
kitty!jay who looooves when you play with his hands. he’ll pretend not to notice while you absentmindedly trace little shapes over his knuckles, but inside he’s completely melting. eventually, he’ll just turn his hand over so your fingers naturally lace together, still acting like it’s not intentional
kitty!jay who always seems to know when your social battery is running low. before you even say anything, he’s quietly asking if you want to step outside for a few minutes or offering to leave early with you. he never makes you explain yourself, he just notices, and quickly pulls some bullshit excuse out of his ass to spew to the rest of his friends
kitty!jay who isn’t overly affectionate in public, but he’ll always find tiny excuses to touch you. brushing imaginary lint off your sleeve, fixing your necklace, resting a hand against your back as you walk through a crowd. all small gestures, but they make you feel safer every single time, even more so when you start to notice how intentional he is with them, despite acting otherwise
kitty!jay who gets so comfortable around you ridiculously quickly. he’ll steal your blanket without realizing, insist on you wearing his hoodies (“they just look so much better on you, sweetheart”), shift you completely so you’re resting your legs on his lap while watching a movie, then look genuinely confused when you point out how clingy he’s being. “no, i’m not,” he’ll insist, completely serious
kitty!jay who instinctively looks for you whenever something funny happens. even if you’re across the room, his eyes immediately find yours because your reaction is always the one he wants to see most. if you’re already giggling, he’ll end up laughing even harder, his eyes bright with affection as he takes in the sound of your laughter like it’s the last time he’ll hear it, noting the way your body racks with each stifled giggle as you bury your face in your hands :p
kitty!jay who never notices how much his voice changes when it’s just the two of you. around everyone else, it’s steady and teasing, always paired with a sarcastic comment or a smug little grin. but the second you’re alone together, all of that quickly slips away. his shoulders loosen, his guard drops without him realizing, and his voice falls into this quiet, almost sleepy murmur that barely carries across the room. you’ll find yourself leaning in closer just to catch what he’s saying because somewhere along the way he stopped feeling like he had to fill the silence. he never realised he did it until jake pointed it out, face smug and eyes narrowed as he wiggled his finger at jay. jay just shrugs, denies it, and mutters something about him “hearing things,” despite the way he knows he’ll immediately slips back into that softer voice the next time you’re alone together :3
kitty!jay who gets impossibly more gentle whenever you’re upset. he doesn’t crowd you with questions or rush you into talking, instead, he’ll jus quietly make his way over until he’s sitting beside you, close enough that his shoulder brushes yours. he’ll ask what happened once, softly, and if you aren’t ready to answer, he won’t push. he’ll simply nod, reach for your hand if you’ll let him (you always do), and stay. if you start crying, his whole expression softens. his brows knit together as he instinctively pulls you against his chest, one hand rubbing slow circles over your back while the other gently cradles the back of your head. “baby, i’ve got you,” he’ll murmur, his voice low and calm. he doesn’t care if you cry all over him or sit there in silence for half an hour. as long as you’re in his arms, he’ll stay exactly where he is until you’re ready to let go :(
kitty!jay who remembers every tiny thing you mention. you cannot get anything past him if it’s even remotely to do with you. your favourite drink, the snack you couldn’t find once, that random flower you pointed out months ago… it all sticks with him. then one day he’ll casually hand you the random chocolate bar you tried once (and loved) months ago, without saying anything, like he doesn’t go well out of his way to try and remember every detail about you on purpose :3
let’s go to HELLLUGHHH
aka nsfw under div😳
kitty!jay who is totally a butt guy… in every way. he’s grabbing handfuls if he’s got you in doggy, the crack of his hand against your soft skin reverberating around the room as his thrusts pick up. even just walking around the apartment, he’s groping you at any given moment, pawing at your sweatpants as the tent in his gets bigger. you try (and fail) to mask at least some of the fondness in your eyes at his ministrations, but you just can’t help it, especially not when he gets so desperate just from a few touches in passing :(
kitty!jay who literally can’t help himself from purring when he gets inside your wet heat, the vibrations only spurring you on as he nuzzles against your neck, harshly contrasting the way he pinches your nipples and shamelessly gropes at your chest as you ride him, temporarily stopping his ministrations to bite and suck at your neck, his throat still humming loudly :p
kitty!jay who’s so big on foreplay that it becomes like torture for you. he’s content to just have you sat on his lap for hours as he nips at your bottom lip, tongue darting out to brush over it before you can even flinch. he sucks little bruises onto the bottom of your neck, ignoring your whines that it’s “childish” and instead opting to just start biting down on another spot, kneading at your ass or gently rubbing your clit through your panties as he does so. and you’re literally never safe… even on long drives he’s got a hand on your thigh, slowly inching up as you squirm in discomfort, actutely aware of the heat now pooling between your legs. you clench them on instinct, only to be met again with his beaming smirk, finding it harder to hold himself back now that he knows he’s got you right where he wants you. i bet he’s an ear nibbler tooughghghg
kitty!jay who likes to mark his territory by cumming all over your tits, pulling himself out of your tight throat to grab at your chest instead, sticking two fingers in your mouth to keep you satiated as he manhandles you where he wants you. he’ll look you dead in the eyes when cumming, jerking himself off with one hand as fast as he can whilst still maintaining eye contact and pushing his long fingers further down your throat. he cums with a groan all over your chest, gaze fond as he looks down at you, his beautiful girl :(
kitty!jay who doesn’t realise his size until you’re silent beneath him, face buried in your pillows, back arched. he leans down to tap you gently on your waist, still bottomed out inside of you, just to hear a muffled and whiny “can’t take it, jay, s’ too big,” as you drool over the bed, eyes teary and gaze far away. he’s almost scared at how fast a grin spreads across his face “you can be good for me, baby, can’t you?” he coos in return, forcing mock sympathy, relishing your whimpers and moans when he reaches a hand around to rub at your puffy clit :(
kitty!jay who just can’t help himself, who loves you so much he just has to have every part of you, brushing his thumb over your puckered hole as a small pout forms on his face at your twitching and whining. even after so many years he can’t believe he gets to have you like this, spread and willing to take whatever he’ll give you, he’s sooo lucky n you’ll never let him forget it :3
kitty!jay who gets off on you getting off. when he’s inside your wet heat, he can only cum after knowing you have, and it’s not even just a pride thing, it’s just that you’ve ruined him as he’s ruined you. he’s so used to the way you clamp around him as you squeal, he’s so used to the creamy ring of combined fluids that forms around the base of his cock, how can anybody expect him to be able to get off without seeing that first? even if he’s not inside, when he’s buried between your legs instead, he feels immense satisfaction when you finish on his tongue, grinding down on him while simultaneously trying to arch away from him as he harshly tweaks your nipples, comparable even to his own orgasm (so much so that he has to look down and check he hasn’t cum in his pants like a teenager) he’s so down bad for you :(
kitty!jay who (shamefully) feels jealous of the toys you have to use when he’s away. realistically, he knows it’s his fault for leaving you frustrated for a week or two while he’s on a business trip, but he still can’t stop the annoyance bubbling up inside of him when you shyly recall how you got off over the phone. he ignores the tent in his pants to mumble back, “but, ‘s not better than mine, right?” rolling his eyes at how pathetic he sounded as he said it. but it’s not his fault he just misses you so much, and deep down he knows he can never be replaced, that he’s ruined you for any other other guy to come (god forbid), but he still needs to hear you say it :(
kitty!jay who is such a sucker for cockwarming. if he’s frustrated after a long day there’s nothing he wants more than to come home and feel you sink yourself down on him, content to just lie back as you nuzzle at his neck. he sees it as the most intimate thing!! typically, he’s hesitant to pull out anyways, so sometimes he’ll just keep himself buried inside you, falling asleep with you wrapped up in his arms, cock still nestled between your legs :3
𝓦𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐍⠀ ✶ ⠀an instagram story is all it takes to leave park jongseong hopelessly flustered. what starts as an innocent walk to the bedroom turns into an unexpected discovery, a thoroughly embarrassed boyfriend, and a reminder that some secrets are impossible to hide.
𝟑𝟓𝟓𝟎 🗯️ ✽ ─── ⏾ 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 park jongseong⠀x ⠀ 𝓯 ! rea ´ ꒳ ` 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 : established relationship ˒ porn without a plot ˒ mutual pining ˒ light femdom ˒
𝔀𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit sexual content ⋮ 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗺𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀, 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗮𝗰𝘁 ✿ masturbation (m. and implied f.) ˒ voyeurism ˒ unprotected p in v ˒ mommy kink ˒ dirty talk ˒ praise kink ˒ edging ˒ cum swallowing ˒ brief oral sex (m. receiving) ˒ consensual power dynamics ˒ handjob ˒ dacryphilia ˒
𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬⠀ꉂ (˵˃ ᗜ ˂˵)
📱 。 𝐞𝐥’𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 just found this gem hidden in my google docs (i don’t remember when exactly i made this though i’m crine) anyways not proofread so beware 😬
The hallway is cool, the air conditioning from the bedroom spills through the slightly ajar door, a thin tongue of chilled air licking at your bare ankles as you pad toward it. You've got your phone in one hand, a glass of water in the other, and the intention of nothing more than collapsing into bed beside your boyfriend after a long day.
But you stop.
Your fingers tighten around the glass because the sound that drifts through that slim crack in the door is unmistakable — rhythmic, slick, desperate. The wet sound of a fist working over a hard cock, fast and shameless, accompanied by a low, broken groan that makes heat pool between your thighs before your brain even catches up.
"—fuck, you're so damn hot—" Jay's voice is ragged, wrecked in a way you've only ever heard when he's buried inside you, when he's so far gone he can barely keep his eyes open. But he's alone. You can tell by the uneven gasp between words, the way each syllable shakes. "—mmph, Y/N, baby—god, you're—"
Your mouth goes dry. Your clit throbs.
You set the glass down on the hallway table without a sound, your breath shallow as you step closer to the gap. Through it, you can see the edge of the bed, the twist of sheets, and Jay — sprawled against the headboard, head tipped back, the tendons of his neck taut as his arm moves in quick, brutal strokes beneath the thin sheet draped over his lap. His phone is propped against his thigh, the screen glowing warm in the dim room, and even from here you recognize what's on it, the video you posted to your story barely two hours ago. The one of you fresh out of the shower, tank top clinging to the damp swell of your chest, smiling lazily at the camera like you knew exactly what it would do to him.
Apparently, it did.
"Y/N—" His hips jerk up into his fist, and the sound he makes is almost pained. Needy, fractured, pathetic in the most intoxicating way. "—please, please—"
Your hand drifts to the waistband of your shorts before you can stop it, fingertips brushing the damp cotton of your underwear. You're wet. Soaked, actually, arousal slicking your folds just from listening to your boyfriend fall apart over a fifteen-second clip of you doing absolutely nothing but existing. You press your palm against your mound and have to bite your lip to keep from moaning aloud.
"—mommy—"
The word is barely a whisper, dragged out of him on a groan that makes his whole body shudder. His hand stills for half a second, like even he can't believe he said it, before he picks up the pace again, faster now, chasing something, and the whimper that follows is devastating.
"Mommy, please—need you so bad—"
Oh.
Oh.
You pull your hand away from yourself and take a step back, a slow, dangerous smile curving your lips. The heat in your stomach has shifted into something sharper, something hungry and commanding, and suddenly the plan crystallizes in your mind with perfect clarity.
You turn up the volume on your phone. Tap open a random video, something loud, something obnoxious, and let it blare for two full seconds before killing it. Then you walk toward the bedroom door with deliberate, heavy footsteps, each one announcing your presence like a drumbeat.
The reaction is instantaneous.
Inside the room, you hear a strangled curse, the frantic rustle of sheets, a muffled thump as something — his phone, probably — gets shoved under a pillow. By the time you push the door open and step inside, Jay is sitting upright against the headboard with his hands folded neatly in his lap, the blanket drawn up to his waist, his chest still heaving, his lips parted and swollen from biting them.
He looks absolutely ruined.
His hair is a mess, dark strands fallen across his forehead, sticking to the thin sheen of sweat at his temples. His cheeks are flushed a deep, rosy pink that spreads down his neck and disappears beneath the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes are wide, frantic, desperately trying to appear casual, and failing entirely.
"Hey," he manages. His voice cracks.
You lean against the doorframe, tilting your head. "Hey, baby. Are you okay? You look a little—whatchamacallit—flushed."
"I'm fine." The words leave him far too quickly, voice pitching an octave higher than usual. He coughs into his fist. "Just—a bit warm. Think the AC’s been acting up. I’ll have to call someone to check it tomorrow.”
“Really?” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “It’s actually kind of cold.”
“I-I know." He swallows. "Guess I'm just... feeling hot."
"Mm." You let your gaze drift, casual and unhurried, down the length of him — the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the white-knuckled grip of his hands on the blanket, and the unmistakable, agonizing tent beneath the sheet pooled over his lap. He's still hard. Visibly, achingly hard, the outline of his cock pressing against the fabric in a way that makes your mouth water.
You say nothing about it. You let him see you notice, and then you look away like it's the most uninteresting thing in the world.
"Just came to bed," you say, crossing the room with that same slow, deliberate pace. You pull your shirt over your head as you go, no bra beneath it, and let it drop to the floor without looking back. You hear his breath hitch. "Tired."
You climb onto the mattress on your knees, and Jay's entire body goes rigid. The bed dips under your weight as you crawl toward him, and you watch the way his eyes track you, dark, hungry, helpless, like he's watching something he wants so badly it hurts and has convinced himself he isn't allowed to touch.
"Baby—" he starts.
You swing a leg over him and settle into his lap before he can finish.
The sound he makes is pitiful, a strangled, punched-out groan that he tries and fails to swallow as your clothed core presses down against the hard length of him, the thin fabric of your sleep shorts and his boxers doing almost nothing to dampen the contact. You can feel him, hot, thick, and twitching against you, the friction sending a sharp pulse of pleasure through your clit that you don't bother to hide.
"Hello," you say softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.
"Fuck," he breathes. His hands find your waist instinctively, fingers digging in like you might disappear if he doesn't hold on. His cock throbs against your slit and you both feel it, his jaw clenches, his hips buck up infinitesimally before he forces them still.
You don't give him time to compose himself. You thread one hand into the hair at the nape of his neck and pull, firm and commanding, tilting his head back, and you kiss him.
You lick into his mouth with purpose, swallowing the broken moan he feeds you, rolling your hips down in a slow, grinding drag that puts firm, deliberate pressure on his aching cock. The wet heat of you drags along his length through the fabric, and he can feel it, how soaked you are, how the cotton of your shorts is doing nothing to contain the slick mess you're making of yourself on him.
"Y/N—" His voice breaks against your lips. His hands slide down to grip your ass, fingers dimpling the soft flesh, pulling you harder against him. "God—mmph, shit—"
"Do you need anything?" You pull back just enough to look at him, his blown-out pupils, his kiss-swollen lips, the flush burning across his cheekbones. You roll your hips again, slower this time, a lazy, torturous grind. "Want, need, whatever. You can tell me, baby."
He whines, high and desperate in the back of his throat, his hips jerking up beneath you like his body is acting on instinct while his brain short-circuits.
"Please touch me—" The words tumble out of him, shameless and trembling. "Please, I need you—I've been so hard for you—"
"My, my. Really?" You cup his jaw with your free hand, thumb tracing the hinge of it, feeling the muscle clench beneath your touch. "How long?"
"Since—since that stupid ass story—" He squeezes his eyes shut, mortified and unbearably aroused all at once. "I couldn't stop thinking about it—about you—your pussy—"
"Aw." Your voice drips with a sweetness that borders on condescending. You tighten your grip in his hair and tug again, harder, and his mouth falls open on a gasp. "My poor baby. Were you touching yourself to me?"
He nods frantically.
"Say it."
"I was—I was touching myself to you." His chest is heaving, words ragged and raw. "I was jerking off to your story—thinking about you—about how hot you are—how you make me so fucking horny I can't think—"
"Good boy." His whole body shudders beneath you, his cock jumping against your core, and the groan that tears out of him is visceral. You smile. "You were saying something else, too. Want to tell me what it was?"
His eyes snap open. Fear and want collide in them, horror and desperate, shameful need.
"I—"
"Come on." You shift your hips, dragging your cunt over him in a filthy, grinding stroke that makes him whimper. "I heard you, baby. I heard everything. So say it."
Silence. His throat works. His fingers dig into your ass hard.
"…Mommy."
The word comes out so quiet you almost miss it, but you don't, you never will, because the way it sounds in his voice, broken, pleading, and dripping with submission, is going to live in your head rent-free for the rest of your life.
"Louder."
"Mommy." More force this time, more need, his hips bucking up against you. "Please, mommy—"
"There you go." You release his hair and slide your hand down his chest, over the hammering beat of his heart, down his stomach, and beneath the blanket. Your fingers find the waistband of his boxers and slip inside, wrapping around his cock for the first time, and the sound he makes is almost a sob, relief and agony tangled together, his whole body arching into your touch.
He's so hard it must hurt. The shaft is hot and flushed in your grip, slick at the tip with precum that smears under your thumb when you circle the head, and he twitches violently in your palm, already close, already on the edge from nothing but his own fist and the thought of you.
"You're so hard for me," you murmur, starting to stroke — slow, loose, nowhere near enough. "So desperate. Were you close, baby? When I walked in—were you about to come?"
"Yes—" His head drops back against the headboard, exposing the long line of his throat, the bob of his Adam's apple. "So close—was gonna—fuck—"
You tighten your grip and speed up, working his cock with firm, deliberate strokes that have his thighs trembling beneath you. Precum spills over your knuckles, the wet sound of your hand on him filling the room alongside his ragged, broken moans.
"You'd have made such a mess, wouldn't you?" You lean in, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice low and filthy. "Coming all over yourself to a video of me, like a desperate little thing, couldn't even wait for the real thing, could you?"
"No—couldn't—" His hips rock up into your fist, chasing the friction, fucking your hand with abandon. "You make me crazy—you make me so fucking crazy, mommy—"
"I know." You twist your wrist on the upstroke, thumbing the slit, and his entire body jolts. "I know you do. You're so damn needy for me. So obsessed."
He nods frantically, beyond words now, beyond anything but the slick grip of your hand, the heat of you in his lap, and the filthy things you're whispering against his skin.
You work him until his thighs are shaking, until his moans fracture into something desperate, until you feel his cock pulse and throb in your grip and you know — he's right there, right at the edge—
And you let go.
The sound he makes is devastating. A raw, ruined whine, his hips thrusting up into nothing, his cock bobbing between you, flushed and angry and leaking.
"Shh." You press a finger to his lips, and he takes it into his mouth without thinking, sucking at the digit, tongue swirling, eyes hazy and pleading. "Be patient. You'll get what you need."
You pull your finger free and lift yourself off his lap just long enough to hook your thumbs into your shorts and underwear, dragging both down your thighs in one motion and kicking them aside. Jay watches you with the rapt, trembling attention of a man in worship, the dark patch of arousal on the cotton is unmistakable, evidence of how wet you are, how much turning him inside out has turned you on, and his mouth actually waters.
You tug his boxers down and off, and his cock springs free, hard, flushed, slick with precum that drips down the shaft. You wrap your hand around the base, positioning him, and before he can draw a breath to beg, you sink down onto him in one fluid motion.
The noise you both make is obscene.
He fills you perfectly, thick and deep, stretching you open around him in a way that makes your eyes flutter and your mouth part on a shaky exhale. He groans like he's dying, hands flying to your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and you give yourself exactly three seconds to adjust before you start to move.
But not facing him.
You turn around, shifting, adjusting, settling back onto his cock with your back to his chest, and the new angle punches a gasp out of both of you. He hits somewhere different from this position — deeper, firmer, a relentless pressure against your front wall that has sparks dancing behind your eyes.
"Oh—so deep—" you breathe, and it's not for his benefit, it just slips out, unfiltered, because he feels good, because the stretch of him is making your cunt clench and flutter around his length in a way that has him sobbing beneath you.
You plant your hands on his thighs and ride.
You bounce on his cock with a ruthless, rolling rhythm that has the bed creaking, the headboard knocking against the wall, the wet, obscene slap of skin on skin echoing through the room. Each thrust drags him nearly all the way out before you slam back down, taking him to the hilt, and the friction on your clit, grounding down against the base of him, has pleasure coiling tight and hot in your belly.
"Y/N—" His voice is wrecked, unrecognizable. "So fucking tight—you feel so good—you're so tight—please—"
"Feel good, baby?" You reach between your legs and press two fingers against your clit, rubbing in tight, firm circles while you fuck yourself on him. The added sensation makes you clench hard around his cock, and he whines, his hips snapping up to meet you. "You stretch me out so well—so thick—feels incredible inside me—"
"Mommy—" It spills out of him like a prayer, reverent and desperate. "Mommy, please—let me see you—"
You slow. Just barely, just enough to feel him throb inside you, to hear the whimper of protest that escapes his throat. Then you lift yourself off him entirely, ignoring the devastated sound he makes at the loss, and turn to face him before sinking back onto his cock.
His expression destroys you.
He looks absolutely ruined, flushed from his chest to his cheeks, lips bitten raw, eyes glassy and dark with want, and the way he stares at you, like you're the only thing in the world that matters, like he'd die for you, like he'd crawl through glass for one more touch, it makes your cunt clench so hard around him that he sobs.
"So handsome," you whisper, rolling your hips in a deep, grinding circle that drags his cock against every sensitive spot inside you.
"Mommy—" He's crying. Tears gathering at the corners of his eyes, spilling over when you clench around him again, overwhelmed, overstimulated, and so desperately in love with you it's leaking out of every pore. "Please—please let me touch you—"
You cup his face in both hands and kiss him, deep and filthy, tongue sliding against his, and you start to ride him again. Slower this time, but deeper, each roll of your hips deliberate, punishing, taking him as far as he'll go. His hands find your ass, gripping, pulling, helping you move, and you let him — let his fingers dig into the soft flesh, let him pull you down harder onto his cock.
"Good boy," you murmur against his mouth. "Taking me so well. You feel amazing inside me, baby—so good—"
His hips jerk up into you, meeting your rhythm, and the friction on your clit is devastating, your fingers, his cock, the fullness, the stretch, all of it building and building in a tight spiral of pleasure that makes your thighs shake.
"Y/N—" He's babbling now, mindless, a broken stream of filth and devotion. "I'm close—please—can I—"
"Not yet." You wrap your hand around his throat, holding, a gentle weight that makes his eyes roll back. "You wait for me. You come when I say."
"I can't—" A sob. "I can't—please—"
"You can." You ride him harder, faster, grinding your clit against him with every thrust, and your own orgasm is right there, right at the edge, coiling tighter and tighter. "Be good for me, baby. Be mommy’s good boy and wait."
He whimpers. His fingers dig into your ass so hard you know there'll be crescent-marks tomorrow. His cock throbs inside you, twitching, leaking, fighting against every instinct to hold on.
You come first.
It hits you like a wave breaking, the pleasure crests and snaps, and you arch back with a cry, your cunt clenching in pulses around his cock as you ride through it. Your hips stutter, grind, chase every last aftershock, and Jay watches you with wide, desperate eyes, watches your face twist in ecstasy, watches your body shake above him, and the sight of you coming on his cock nearly undoes him entirely.
"Mommy—" It's ragged, a threadbare plea. "Please—please can I—"
"Come," you breathe, and he does.
It's visceral. He slams up into you one final time and goes rigid, every muscle locked, head thrown back, throat exposed beneath your palm, and a groan tears out of him so deep and raw it sounds like it's being dragged from the soles of his feet. His cock pulses inside you, thick spurts of cum flooding your cunt, and you feel every twitch, every throb, every hot rope of him filling you up.
But you don't stop.
You pull off him before he's finished, his cock still twitching, still spilling, and you slide down his body and take him into your mouth. The taste of both of you hits your tongue — salty, musky, his cum and yours mixing — and you swallow around the head, licking him clean, lapping up every drop that spills from his slit. He's crying out, overstimulated, his hands in your hair pulling you closer, holding you there, his hips twitching up into the wet heat of your mouth like he can't help himself.
"Fuck—too much—mommy—it's too—oh my god—"
You pull off with a slick pop and wrap your hand around him again, stroking, slow and firm, milking every last tremor of his orgasm out of him. His cock is sensitive, twitching in your grip, and each stroke makes him jolt and gasp, but you don't stop, not until he's completely spent, softening in your hand, his chest heaving and his eyes unfocused.
You release him gently and crawl back up his body, settling against his chest with his arms wrapping around you on instinct, holding you like you're the only solid thing in a spinning world. His heart hammers against your ear. His breath comes in ragged, shuddering pants. His fingers trace absent patterns on the small of your back.
"That was—" he manages, voice destroyed.
"Good?"
"Incredible." He presses his lips to the top of your head. "You're fucking incredible."
You smile against his skin, trailing your fingers lazily over his chest. His cock gives one last feeble twitch against your thigh, spent and satisfied, and a quiet, fucked-out laugh rumbles through his chest.
"So," you say, casual as anything, "that story really did a number on you, huh?"
He groans, burying his face in your hair. "You're never letting that go, are you?"
"Never."
"I hate you."
"You called me mommy."
"Ugh, I really hate you."
You laugh and tilt your chin up to kiss the underside of his jaw. His arms tighten around you, and you feel him smile against your forehead.
His hand slides lower, palm pressing warm against the curve of your hip, and when he speaks again, his voice is quiet, raw, and unbearably tender.
"I love you. So much. It’s stupid."
You close your eyes and let his heartbeat steady your own.
✷ NOTE : thank you all so, so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed this little world for a while ♡ all of this is purely a work of fiction & doesn’t reflect reality at all . . likes, reblogs, and feedback are deeply cherished and very, very appreciated on here !
recommendations for enhypen, &team, txt, and seventeen
⋆.˚ ENHYPEN
heeseung
ꕀ make you mine by @intromortal ⋮ wc 1.8k ♯ smut, jealous!heeseung, toxic situationship, jealous sex
ꕀ was it casual? by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 12.3k ♯ angst, smut, fubu, heeseung is lowk an asshole, ft sunoo, shower sex, love some angst
ꕀ player rank: platinum by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 30k ♯ smut, sister's boyfriend trope, simp gamer!heeseung, cheating/infidelity, gobsmacked after reading this one
ꕀ color coded by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.7k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung, open minded sub!reader, reader has an explorative nature/curious, the ending lowk made me kick my feet
ꕀ making progress by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 28.7k ♯ college au, smut, slight angst, nerd!heeseung/pathetic!heeseung, he's an inexperienced sweetheart, this was cute
jay
ꕀ happy hotwifing by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 18.9k ♯ smut, husband jongseong x afab reader x voyeur sunghoon, threesome, look at the tags yourself i just.. leave me alone. this is the best jay fic to me
ꕀ take the backseat by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 8.5k ♯ smut, ft jake, exhibitionist!jay, voyeur!jake, afab reader, eventual threesome in part 2, how do i tattoo a fic into my brain
ꕀ friends to worry about by @intromortal ⋮ wc 7.3k ♯ smut, cheating, everyone is lowk shitty, bf's besties!jayhoon x reader, lil bit of mxm, just read it ok
ꕀ his obsession by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 7k ♯ college au, smut, fluff, jay’s obsessed with the reader, brat tamer!jay (we all cheered), undercover freak!reader, loved this
ꕀ sweet desire by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 5.7k ♯ smut, slight angst, jay and reader are obsessed with each other, pwp, i love jay fics
ꕀ dad and dollars by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 12.9k ♯ smut, dilf au, slight age gap, dad!jay x money struggling fem!reader, pwp, just yes
ꕀ midnight came twice by @nephynes ⋮ wc 7k ♯ smut, ft sunghoon, fubu with both sunghoon and jay, threesome, meandom!hoon, softdom!jay, angst if you squint
ꕀ mr & mrs smith by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 35k ♯ smut, marriage-on-the-rocks, morally gray romance, slow-burn, assassin spy husband!Jay x assassin spy wife!reader, husband jay fics ugh
jake
ꕀ serial-sweetheart by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, cheating/infedelity that doesn't get exposed, boyfriend sunghoon, perverted/shy college boy jake, jake is a couple of years younger, sunghoon and jake are brothers, needy jake, dom-ish sunghoon, switch reader, jaw-droppingly good
ꕀ liquid sweetner by @intromortal ⋮ wc 5.2k ♯ smut, established relationship, downbad!jake, sick!reader, sweetie jake taking care of his girl basically
ꕀ ping! we should fuck by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc approx 6.5k ♯ smut, fwb, unprotected sex, fluff, angst
ꕀ what is it, to be liked? by @dollhoonki ⋮ wc 12.6k ♯ smut, dom!jake (condenscending), sub!reader, established relationship, satisfying ending to a trip to the mountains after encountering a fortune teller
ꕀ into it? by @minhosimthings ⋮ wc 24.8k ♯ smut, ft euijoo from andteam (foaming at the mouth), dom!jake, dom!ej, threesome, fratboys kinda, obsessed obsessed obsessed
ꕀ crazy, stupid, love by @swiftjay23 ⋮ wc 31.6k ♯ romcom au, friends with benefits, smut, angst, fluff, fwb to lovers, mutual pining, emotional slow burn, happy ending, playboy!jake x fratgirl!reader
sunghoon
ꕀ first date etiquette by @simpjaes ⋮ wc 9.3k ♯ smut, strangers to fucking almost immediately, brat tamer!sunghoon (somebody sedate me), sneaky sex, cocky sunghoon, flirting/bullying banter, both are competitive, im so unwell
ꕀ 1-800-HOON by @prkhaven ⋮ wc 10.8k ♯ smut, brat tamer au, pwp if you squint really hard, jay is reader’s rich bf and sunghoon’s best friend, mean hard dom brat tamer!sunghoon, hung!hoon agenda, i'd get banned if i said all i wanted to about this one so im just gonna say its nice!
ꕀ inch by inch by @intromortal ⋮ wc 23.6k ♯ smut, f!reader x park sunghoon, besties!jaykewon, essentially just smut, hung hung hung sunghoon, brat tamer!sunghoon, theres a part 2 as well, everyone is sick of hearing me talk about this one idc i need to be put tf down
ꕀ that's right, he can't by @jaylaxies ⋮ wc 3.6k ♯ smut, dom!heeseung x switch!fem!reader x switch!sunghoon, jealousy, revenge sex, needy reader, heeseung is lowk an asshole
ꕀ birthday boy by @intromortal ⋮ wc 4.5k ♯ smut, "sunghoon's first birthday after you started dating comes around, and you two make the most of the night when a snow storm delays plans." honestly just rlly sweet
trust there is way more sunghoon ones, i just have to hunt for them in my notes somewhere :3
sunoo
ꕀ one of the girls by @mssishipi ⋮ wc 45.5k ♯ slowburn, one sided enemies to fubu to lovers, second chances, queer coded relationship dynamics, queer!sunoo x queer! reader, pwp, hung sunoo, dom!sunoo, this is THE sunoo fic. you can't change my mind.
ꕀ 06. viewer submission challenge by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, public sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), sunoo x reader
ꕀ all the right numbers by @nephynes ⋮ wc 15k ♯ smut, college au, fratboy! sunoo, casual sex, slice of life, romance, slowburn
ꕀ sweeter than revenge by @hoonstrology ⋮ wc 11.1k ♯ best friends to lovers. fluff. romance. yearner!sunoo & whipped!sunoo. slight angst. jealousy, condescending–dom!sunoo & sub!reader. sunoo switches between soft!dom and mean!dom (put me down) hung!sunoo agenda, like just love a good sunoo fic fr
there's a severe drought of good sunoo fics here :(
jungwon
ꕀ all the right parts by @arelyvn ⋮ wc 6k ♯ smut, teasing, car sex (on top of it), freak mechanic!won (feral), mean dom!won, freakwon agenda, reader's a spoiled brat who needs to be put in her place, and jungwon's willing to, just read it omg
ꕀ 0.7 first timer by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex etc, jungwon x reader, this entire series is 10/10
riki
ꕀ 0.8 watch me by @heeluvv ⋮ wc ?k ♯ smut, unprotected sex, grinding, praise kink, teasing, handcuffs, nishimura riki x fem reader
i realised i don't have any riki ones besides this one..
warnings: car sex, praising kink, explicit description and language, cowgirl style, tit play. !!
MDNI
you would’ve never even imagined having sex with your enemy. i mean, it happens all the time in books you read, they’re enemies, but by page ten they’re married and have kids together.
but here you are..in the back of his car riding him while his cock is balls deep inside you. he’s like a drug you’re addicted too, can’t get enough of him.
he drives you crazy on how much he teases you, on how much of a freak he is. and now that you two are fucking in a car makes everything more complicated.
“f-fuck, move faster baby girl, so strong..” he says, sweat already dripping from his forehead, his voice is raspy and tired, but this feels way too good to stop now.
as you bounce faster on his cock he lets out broken moans and whimpers mixing with yours. “fuck! just like that.. doing so.. amazing” he’s a moaning mess beneath you.
his head falls back against the head rest, eyes rolling back. “watch me with those pretty eyes while i fuck you.. watch me make you feel so good..” you say, your breasts bounce with each move you make.
he immediately obeys, wanting to feel and see every moment. you pull him to your tits by his hair, making him suck on one while he plays with the other.
“mmm.. good boy..” you say, while he’s desperately sucking harder. the sound of your pussy slapping against his balls fill the car.
he switches to your other tittie, giving them equal attention, playing with the one he just sloppily sucked.
he releases with a wet pop, both of your titties glistening from his wet mouth in the moonlight.
the windows start fogging up, making everything more intimate than things already are.
his hands move to your ass, squeezing them and helping you move desperately, needing to feel himself deeper inside you pussy..
you’re getting close, he feels your walls fluttering around his cock, he lets out a broken whimper from the sensation.
his head falls against your shoulder.. needing to feel comfort before you cum.
you cum hard, clenching around him. that triggers his climax..
“cumming.. oh fuck! i’m.. cumming!”.. he says between gasps and whimpers..
he leans in to kiss you sloppily as your ride out your orgasm.. the kiss is messy and wet.
he pulls away from the kiss, then nuzzling his face in your neck, finding it comforting. he presses a kiss on your neck softly as you stroke his soft hair.
he leans into your touch like a puppy, and he whimpers into your neck… “you were so good for me, love” you say as he’s slowly falling asleep with his arms wrapped around your waist..
IN WHICH... It's the 4th of July, and you can't stop staring at the way your boyfriend is eating watermelon: his lips flushed and his chin dripping. You can't help but wonder what else that mouth can do...
WC: 2k
Content/Warnings: MDNI, Established Relationship, Touch of Fluff, Jake is so cute and bf material UGH, Smut, Kissing, Oral Sex (receiving), Sitting on Jake's Face, Riding Jake's Nose
Ari's Note: I totally forgot about the 4th until a few days ago, so I decided to whip up this little treat. Enjoy luvs! (I hope I didn't ruin watermelon for you) 😳
You watched Jake’s lips close around the watermelon across the table, his tongue darting out to lick up the dripping red juice.
Your fingers clenched around your lemonade glass, the cold from the ice doing little to distract you from the sound of his mouth sucking at the fruit.
To your right, your mom was telling some story about the time she and her friends set off fireworks in their backyard, scorching so much of the grass she’d been grounded for a month.
You tried to listen, but the way your boyfriend was eating through the plate of watermelon on the table was driving you insane. His lips were stained a darker shade of pink, his soft brown hair slightly tousled from the breeze that brushed over the lake, and his eyes…they danced like stars.
Ever since you invited Jake to come home to the States with you for the 4th of July, he’d been giddy with excitement. He showed you outfits he was thinking of wearing (almost always some iteration of red, white, and blue); he talked about fireworks, parades, parties… and then there was the food.
Every night, he’d ask you about the typical food that Americans had during the holiday, looking at you with wide eyes as you described burgers, hot dogs, steak, ice cream, corn, watermelon…the list went on.
Now that he was here, he ate like a madman, sitting at the table on your family’s patio in his baggy jeans and white and red long-sleeved shirt, licking his lips as watermelon juice dripped down his chin.
You could think of another use for those lips…and it had nothing to do with food and everything to do with the ache between your legs.
Jake caught your eye and tilted his head as he noticed your strained expression, a strand of hair falling over his eye.
God, he was adorable. You couldn’t believe he was yours half the time.
You smiled and glanced down at his mouth, letting your teeth scrape against your bottom lip as you looked up at him through your lashes.
His eyes dropped to your lips, darkening slightly as realization flooded his features.
“So Jake, how’s the weather in Seoul this time of year?”
Jake’s head whipped towards your dad, who was looking at him curiously, a beer propped on his knee.
“Oh, it’s pretty warm, not so different from here actually,” Jake said, a polite smile on his face.
“That’s good, I wouldn't want you melting on us.” Your dad chuckled. “y/n tells us she’s been struggling to stay cool.”
“It always feels hotter in the city.” You said, “So it’s nice to be back where it’s a little…quieter.”
Jake took another bite of watermelon, and this time, he looked straight at you as he sucked the juice into his mouth, the sound going straight to your core.
You glared at him, shifting slightly in your seat.
He just smiled, holding his hand up to cover his laugh.
“Enjoying the watermelon, Jake?” Your mom asked, glancing at the almost empty plate.
Jake nodded, his fluffy hair bobbing cutely. “It’s so good, thank you for all the food.”
“Of course! We’re so happy to have you. Maybe y/n will come home more if you’re willing to go with her.” She shot you a pointed look.
Jake chuckled. “I’ll try to convince her.”
You nudged Jake’s foot under the table, pointing to the house with your eyes, your chin resting on your hand as you bit back a smile.
Jake glanced at his phone before looking back at your parents, a mask of a frown on his face. “I just noticed my phone is about to die; I’m gonna go plug it in.” He stood up. “Do you guys need anything?”
You stood up too, almost tripping over your chair leg as you stepped away from the table. “I’ll go with you; you said you forgot your charger on the plane, didn’t you?”
Jake nodded, a flicker of amusement on his face. “Oh yeah babe, I almost forgot, can I borrow one?”
“Yeah, I’ll show you where we keep the extras.” You walked towards the door. “We’ll be right back!”
Your mom waved you off. “Take your time, honey!”
The second you were out of your parents' line of sight, you grabbed Jake’s hand, heading straight for your room.
Jake laughed at your eagerness. “That was some good quick thinking back there; I’ll have to make sure I hide my charger from them the rest of the trip.”
“Just say you were wrong and found it buried in your bag or something.” You said, finally reaching your door and closing it behind the two of you.
Jake bit his bottom lip, looking you up and down with a teasing smile. You felt a flutter in your stomach. Even though you’d been together for six months, you still felt as lovesick around him as the first week you started dating. Everything he did made your stomach flip and your heart race; it was both exhilarating and exhausting. Because with him, you were on top of the world, but without him you felt like you couldn’t breathe.
Not to mention the physical aspect.
Your sex drive had been low your entire life. You thought it was just how you were wired—an inherent part of you that would never change.
But then you met Jake, and that theory went completely out the window.
For the first month, you felt like you were in a porno. You fucked on the couch, on the counters, in the shower, in the car…it was an addiction that only applied to Jake—triggered by his eyes, his hands, and his lips that he never stopped playing with.
It drove you crazy how he bit them, licked them, and rolled them between his fingers. It was a torture tactic designed especially for you, and he knew it.
“You really couldn’t wait till after dinner?” Jake feigned annoyance, but you could tell by the curve of his mouth that he loved seeing you desperate for him.
You put your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating under your fingers. “Nope, you looked way too good eating that watermelon, and now I have a problem that only you can solve.” You glanced down.
“Is that so? Are you jealous of a piece of fruit, baby?” Jake said, his voice low in a way that sank under your skin.
You laughed softly. “Maybe…”
He rested his forehead on yours, his hand holding the back of your neck. “Your parents will be wondering where we are pretty soon.”
“I guess we better hurry then.”
Without wasting another second, you leaned in and connected your lips.
Jake responded immediately, sighing as his hands dropped to your waist, pulling you against him.
You slipped your tongue in his mouth, smiling when you felt the sticky watermelon residue on the corners of his lips.
He pushed you towards the bed until you were sitting down, staring up at him with glassy eyes. Jake gently pushed you onto your back, placing kisses down your jaw. “Where do you want me, baby?” He smirked against your skin. “How can I solve your ‘problem’?”
“Your tongue, Jake; I need your tongue.”
He pulled away to look at you, his lips swollen from kissing. “Wanna sit on my face?” He kissed you again. “Ride my nose?”
Your eyes widened, and you nodded quickly, already sitting up, the pressure in your core aching.
Jake climbed onto the bed and motioned you towards him, his eyes dark and locked on your crotch.
You fumbled at the zipper on your jeans, sighing when you pulled down the fabric and your wet pussy hit cold air.
Jake groaned from the bed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. “Come here.”
You swung your leg over his waist, moving up until you were perched above his face, thighs straddling his head.
Jake’s hands gripped your hips, his fingers tight as he lowered you towards him.
When his lips made contact with your folds, you gasped, leaning against the headboard for support as jolts of pleasure shot up your spine.
You felt his tongue lick a stripe up towards your clit, lapping at your wetness gathering around your entrance the same way he sucked up the watermelon juice.
“Fuck, Jake.” You groaned, sinking lower onto his skull.
He hummed against you, the vibration sending another shiver down your back.
You ground against his face, moaning when you felt your clit brush against his large nose. You pressed down a little harder, causing Jake’s fingers to dig into your hips, keeping you just raised enough where he could breathe, but close enough where he had easy access to every inch of you.
The pressure of his nose against your sensitive bundle of nerves was divine, adding just the right amount of stimulation as his tongue teased your entrance.
You reached down to tangle your fingers through his hair, drawing a whimper deep from his throat.
“Jake baby, you feel so good.” You sighed, looking down to watch your juices glisten over his nose.
His voice sounded from below. “You taste so sweet,” he mumbled against your folds, “could eat this pussy all day.”
You rubbed your clit against his nose again, moving in small circles to create little explosions of pleasure shooting through your body.
Jake groaned and pulled you even closer, spearing his tongue through your hole, making you gasp and arch against the headboard.
He moved your hips against his tongue in a fast and steady rhythm, the friction slight but torturous as the rough texture of his tongue rubbed against your walls.
You started fucking his face, moving in gentle thrusts so you felt the stimulation from his nose and tongue at the same time.
“Jake, I’m close!” You cried, trying not to be too loud in case your parents had come back into the house.
In response, Jake shifted you down and sucked your clit into his mouth, moaning loudly as he felt your thighs start to tremble around his head.
Your grip on his hair tightened as you felt your climax approaching, building like a firecracker about to blow.
With a final suck on your clit, the wet sound echoing against the walls of the room, your orgasm crashed over you, rising like a sea of sparklers as your mouth opened in a silent gasp.
Jake didn’t stop. He devoured you like the watermelon was an appetizer and you were the main course, slurping at your juices with a starving intensity that left you breathless.
You leaned your head against the headboard as the aftershocks subsided, leaving nothing but a warm emptiness between your legs.
Slowly, you lifted off of Jake’s face, swinging your leg back over his waist and collapsing beside him on the bed.
He was panting softly, eyes following your every move as you settled beside him. “Problem solved?”
You chuckled weakly. “Always my favorite problem solver.”
He smiled, his nose and mouth still glistening with your juices, making his skin glow even more than it usually did.
“Have anything else I need to fix?”
You smoothed out a few strands of his now-messy hair, giggling at the cowlick that refused to go down.
“I’ll let you know.”
“At this point, I feel like we need another excuse for why we were gone so long,” Jake said, looking at you fondly.
You leaned in and kissed his lips, smiling as you tasted yourself on him. “Just say your mom called or something.”
He hummed softly, his fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss.
After a few seconds, he pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours. “What’d I do to deserve you?”
You looked back at him, staring with so much adoration you thought your heart would burst. “I ask myself that every day.”
Jake brushed a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Happy 4th, Love.”
You pecked his nose, a dumb grin plastered on your face. “Happy 4th, Jakey.”
