⠀›› cw : reader on contraceptive pills, creampie, lots of praising/teasing etc.
"f-fuck.. 'toru, you- mm~" he feels heat creeping up his cheeks as you mewl into his ear, "you feel.. shooo goood baby..!" lightly nibbling on it, "my cutieee.. ngh-!"
nerd!jo couldn't believe this. couldn't register you, the popular college senior, the college's heartbeat, riding his cock like there was no tomorrow.
with your gloss smeared a bit across your nose, eyelids barely open, tits jiggling with each upthrust, and.. fuck, he knew he was going crazy for you with each passing second.
nerd!jo barely existed in college. or so he thought. yeah, he knew about this little fanbase for him, with girls from infamous 'nerd boy hunting' club, but he shrugged it off as he had better things to care about.
better things like you.
"my 'toruuu..! yes, yes, fuck me like that- oh please..!"
nerd!jo has had this big, fat crush on you ever since high school, but he didn't think that miss queenbee would pay him any attention so he pushed his head into books.
but.. somehow you even ended up studying in the same college as him, and he had to make up his mind to literally get over you to focus on studies, focus on the future.
well, it seems that you are his future; and every sweet word, each moan or little groan of yours, scent of your perfume, it all intoxicates him like crazy.
"keeeepp going babyy.. please! it feels shooo damnn goood~"
nerd!jo twitches inside you, the veins on his shaft feeling more prominent while stretching your leaking cunt as he barely whimpers against your collarbone, "i.. ba-babyy.. i'm close!"
"i want it inside, 'toru, pleaseee..!" you exhale, "you'll give it all to me, yeah? oh.. fuck!"
spurts of his cum fill your pussy as your vision turns blurry, he pulls you toward his chest while caressing you, "my princess will give me a round two, won't you?"
you let out a chuckle at that before you grind on him teasingly, looking at him from the corner of your eye, "i'd even give you babies but all you gotta do is ask, you know."
𓂃 ⭒ Megumi wants to wait until you are both adults
“Not even a blowjob?” you pout, leaning into his shoulder.
Megumi sighs, the kind of long, resigned sound that says he’s already been through this conversation in his head a hundred times before.
“Yes… even that.”
You groan dramatically, throwing your head back against the couch. “You’re impossible.”
“I’m responsible,” he corrects, deadpan, but there’s a flicker of a smile tugging at his mouth. He doesn’t look at you right away, eyes fixed on the muted TV light flickering across the room. “We’re not old enough for that kind of stuff. It’s—” he pauses, brow tightening, “—inappropriate.”
His voice carries that quiet seriousness that’s so him. The same tone he uses when explaining a curse technique or when he thinks you’re about to do something reckless. You can tell he’s set on this—not out of coldness, but because he really believes it’s the right thing to do.
You nudge his arm with your knee, half teasing, half earnest. “What about kisses?”
That gets his attention. His eyes finally meet yours, dark and steady. Then, almost imperceptibly, his shoulders soften. “I guess those are fine,” he mutters.
You grin, already scooting closer. “Fine enough for one right now?”
Megumi lets out another sigh—this one softer, almost fond—and leans down just enough so your lips meet. It’s slow and warm and cautious, everything unspoken hanging between you.
“See?” you whisper, smiling. “Nothing inappropriate about that.”
He brushes his thumb against your cheek, eyes half-lidded. “Let’s just keep it that way,” he says quietly. But the way his lips linger near yours…
Over the next few years, it turned out to be a lot harder for Megumi than he expected.
You really had believed him back then every word about waiting, about being “responsible,” about things being inappropriate for your age. You’d agreed, because it made sense, because you loved how seriously he took things.
But what Megumi didn’t account for was how that trust, that comfort of knowing he’d never cross a line, made you feel safe enough to get comfortable… maybe a little too comfortable.
The shorts got shorter. The sleepovers started happening more often. Sometimes you’d climb into his bed without thinking, hair messy, wearing an oversized shirt and little else, stretching out beside him like it was the most natural thing in the world. And it was until he’d catch your thigh brushing his or notice the steady rise and fall of your breathing, and suddenly all that quiet composure would start to crack.
He told himself it was fine. You weren’t doing anything wrong. You still had those same soft, innocent smiles, still fell asleep tangled in the blankets before midnight. It was just that he wasn’t as unaffected as he used to be.
He’d thought you’d be the one struggling with waiting. Turns out, it’s Megumi who lies awake longer these nights trying to remember why “inappropriate” had ever sounded so simple.
It wasn’t just about rules anymore. Somewhere along the way, things began to change quietly, naturally, almost without either of you noticing.
Megumi started to feel it in the smallest of moments: the way your voice softened when you said his name, or how your hand lingered on his arm just a moment too long. Sometimes, when you leaned in close enough that your breath brushed his neck, he’d forget how to breathe entirely.
You never did anything overtly bold, but you didn’t have to. The warmth of your skin when your legs touched beneath the blankets, the soft scent of your shampoo, the way your shirt would slip off one shoulder while you read beside him.
it all piled up, until every inch of space between you felt alive with something unsaid.
He still told himself that waiting was the right thing. That it mattered. But lately, it wasn’t easy to rest his hand beside yours without his pulse quickening, or to look at you too long without his thoughts wandering somewhere he shouldn’t let them go.
You could tell he was fraying at the edges, even if he’d never admit it. When you caught his eyes lingering, you almost asked him if he still thought it was “inappropriate.” But you didn’t. You just smiled, leaned a little closer, and let the silence balance between you
His eighteenth birthday came quietly, just like him. A small dinner with Yuji, Nobara, and you, nothing elaborate, just laughter, a cake Nobara nearly dropped, and the warmth of being surrounded by people who had grown up together through too much.
But all night, Megumi couldn’t stop looking at you.
You’d done nothing different—just worn that soft sweater he always liked, hair tied up loosely—but it was enough to undo him in small ways he tried not to show. Every time you smiled across the table, every time your knee brushed his under it, something tightened in his chest.
Later, when everyone had gone to bed or disappeared into separate rooms, you were lying on your stomach, scrolling on your phone. He walked in quietly, the floor creaking just enough to catch your attention. Before you could say anything, he lay down on top of you, his weight warm against your back.
“Megumi—” you started, laughing when his breath brushed your neck.
Then he kissed you there—just a soft press, almost shy—and you froze for a second before your laughter melted into something quieter.
He lifted himself just enough to turn you onto your back, his eyes searching yours before his lips met yours again. This time it wasn’t gentle. It was deeper… slower… certain. You felt his heartbeat racing, his hand trembling slightly against your waist.
It wasn’t unusual for him to react like that—he’d always been affectionate in his own careful way—but what was unusual was that he didn’t stop right away. For a moment, he allowed himself to stay there, breathing you in, caught between control and something new.
Then, that familiar pull of restraint hit him like a wave. With a low sound—half frustration, half discipline—he pulled back completely, pressing his forehead to yours for a heartbeat, then standing up. No words. Just the sound of his footsteps leaving the room.
You didn’t go after him; you both knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. And somehow, that silence said everything.
Then came your eighteenth birthday.
Your eighteenth birthday came on a quiet night too, though everything felt different this time. Maybe it was the way Megumi couldn’t seem to relax, even when Yuji and Nobara were teasing you both about being “the old ones now.” Maybe it was the way his hand lingered against the small of your back when he passed behind you, how his eyes kept finding yours and then darting away like he was afraid to get caught.
By the time everyone had gone home, the air between you two felt thick with something neither of you could name.
You were sitting on the edge of his bed when he came in, hair still a little mussed from the shower, shirt loose at the collar. He stopped in front of you, looking down with that same mix of calm and uncertainty that always seemed to exist in him at once.
“Happy birthday,” he said softly.
You smiled up at him. “Thank you.”
He hesitated for a moment, like he wanted to say more but couldn’t trust himself to. His fingers twitched at his sides before he finally gave in to impulse and reached out, brushing a loose strand of hair off your face.
“Did you make a wish?” he asked.
You nodded, smiling faintly. “Maybe.”
“What was it?”
You tipped your head, pretending to think, even though you both knew you wouldn’t tell him. “If I say it, it won’t come true.”
He huffed a soft laugh, the kind that barely made it past his throat. Then he sat beside you. The mattress dipped under his weight, your knees almost touching.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The clock on the nightstand ticked quietly. His eyes flicked to your lips, once, then away again and your pulse jumped.
“Megumi,” you said, barely above a whisper.
He looked at you then, really looked. Like he was searching for a sign, a word, anything to justify the way his hand slid to rest against your thigh, tentative but steady.
“It doesn’t feel wrong anymore… I hope,” you murmured.
He exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding that breath for years. “No,” he said, voice rough, quiet, “It doesn’t.”
When he kissed you this time, there was no hesitation
His mouth moved against yours slow, like he was memorizing the shape of it all over again.
One of his hands stayed on your thigh, thumb brushing lazy half circles over the inside seam of your shorts, warm through the thin cotton.
The other came up to cradle the side of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, holding you.
You shifted closer without really meaning to, knee sliding against his, and he made a low sound in the back of his throat—barely there, but enough to send heat curling low in your stomach.
When you finally parted—just enough to breathe—he didn’t go far. Forehead resting against yours, eyes half-lidded and dark.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly, not mocking. Just noticing.
You let out a small, embarrassed laugh. “So are you.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead he kissed you again, softer this time, lips catching yours in little pulls and releases until your mouth parted on its own.
His tongue brushed yours, tentative at first, then deeper when you sighed into it, fingers curling into the front of his shirt.
The hand on your thigh slid higher, slow enough that you could stop him if you wanted. You didn’t. Your legs parted just a fraction and his palm settled fully against the warmth there, not pressing, just resting, like he was giving you time to feel how badly he wanted to touch more.
You broke the kiss to catch your breath, foreheads still touching. “Megumi…”
He hummed, low, waiting.
“Take them off,” you whispered.
His fingers paused, then hooked under the waistband of your shorts. He tugged gently, waiting for you to lift your hips before he slid them down your thighs, past your knees, letting them drop to the floor.
Cool air hit your skin and you shivered; his hand immediately returned, warmer now, cupping you through your underwear.
You reached for the hem of his shirt next, tugging it up. He helped you pull it off, muscles shifting under your palms as you ran your hands over his chest, his sides, feeling the way his breath hitched when your nails grazed lightly down his stomach.
When your fingers found the strings of his joggers he caught your wrist, not stopping you, just holding for a second. His eyes searched yours again, quieter this time.
“You sure?” he asked, voice rougher than before.
You nodded, leaning in to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ve been sure for a long time.”
He exhaled through his nose, something almost like relief, then let go of your wrist. You worked the ties, and he lifted his hips so you could push the joggers and boxers down far enough. He kicked them off the rest of the way himself.
Then it was just his skin against your skin.
He pulled you into his lap carefully, your knees bracketing his hips, and for a long moment neither of you moved…just breathing, foreheads pressed together, feeling each other.
His cock rested warm and heavy against your inner thigh; you could feel how hard he was, how much he was trying not to rush.
His hands settled on your waist, thumbs stroking the sensitive skin just under your ribs.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured.
You kissed him instead of answering and rocked your hips once, just enough to slide against him. He groaned softly into your mouth, fingers tightening on your waist.
You did it again, slower this time, dragging yourself along his length until the head nudged your clit through the damp cotton still between you. His head dropped to your shoulder, breath ragged against your neck.
“Fuck,” he whispered, almost to himself.
You smiled against his hair, reached down between you, and tugged your underwear to the side.
When you sank down onto him it was careful—despite the pain—until he was buried deep and you both went still, breathing hard.
He pressed a shaky kiss to your throat. “You okay?”
You nodded, fingers threading through his dark hair. “Yeah. Just… give me a second.”
He did. Just held you close, one arm wrapped around your lower back, the other hand cradling your face so he could kiss you again
When you finally rolled your hips, testing, he groaned low in his chest and matched your small, shallow thrusts that made your breath catch every time he bottomed out.
It stayed slow like that for a long while with no rush.
The pace stayed gentle for a while longer with your slow rolls of your hips meeting his careful upward thrusts.
The room was quiet except for your shared breathing and the soft, wet sounds your bodies made each time you sank down onto him fully
little noises that filled the space between you every time you lifted and slid back down.
His eyes flicked down between you, watching where you took him in, then back up to your face. The sight seemed to pull another low groan from him, and he pressed his thumb firm against your clit, circling in time with the slow grind.
You whimpered softly at the added pressure, and the next roll of your hips drew out an especially wet, filthy squelch that made you both freeze for half a second. His grip on your waist tightened, fingers digging in just enough to leave the faintest sting.
His hands roamed now: one splayed wide across your lower back, guiding without forcing, the other sliding up to cup your breast through the thin fabric of your bra. His thumb brushed over the peak of your nipple once, twice, until your breath hitched and you arched into his touch.
You tugged the bar down your chest yourself, impatient suddenly, and let it sit on your rib cage.
The second his mouth found your collarbone you felt the shift in him—still careful, but hungrier. kisses trailed lower, pausing to suck softly at the swell of your breast before he closed his lips around your nipple. The wet heat of his tongue made you gasp, fingers tightening in his hair.
“Megumi—” It came out like a half-plea
He hummed against your skin, the vibration pulling another shiver out of you, then switched to the other side while his finger still played with your clit
You rocked harder without meaning to, and he groaned low against your chest
“Lie back,” you whispered.
He blinked up at you, dark lashes heavy, then nodded once.
You lifted off him carefully—both of you making small, involuntary sounds at the loss—and he let you guide him down until his shoulders hit the pillows.
The sight of him like that—hair messy across his forehead, lips swollen from kissing, chest rising and falling fast—made your stomach flip.
You straddled him again, this time facing him fully, and sank back down in one smooth glide. Deeper this time. His head tipped back, throat working on a quiet curse.
You set the pace now with slow lifts and drags that let you feel every inch of him.
His hands found your hips, just holding on like he needed the anchor. His thumbs pressed into the soft skin above your hipbones.
When your pace stuttered, he sat up suddenly, arms wrapping around your waist to pull you against him.
The new angle made him hit something inside you that turned your next breath into a broken moan.
“There?” he murmured against your lips.
You could only nod, forehead pressed tight to his, noses brushing, breaths coming out hot and ragged against each other’s mouths.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding him close, dragging him in that last little bit until there was no space left between you.
Your bare chest rubbed against his with every move, nipples scraping over his skin, the friction sharp and hot, making you shiver each time your bodies slid together.
You moved with him, keeping him buried so deep that the base of his cock pressed against you every time you rolled forward.
You felt the warm, soft weight of his balls settle right up against your skin with each grind, shifting slightly, adding that extra press of fullness that made your stomach flutter low and hard.
Your thighs trembled around his hips, muscles jumping every time you rocked down. Your feet dug into the mattress, toes curling in the sheets as you tried to pull yourself even closer, chasing every bit of contact you could get.
His hands slid down from your waist, palms rough and warm as they cupped your ass, fingers spreading wide, digging in just enough to make you gasp softly.
Then he pulled you forward, harder, guiding your hips down deeper onto him with a firm, steady push.
The motion sank him even further inside, stretching you fuller, the thick base grinding right against your entrance while his balls pressed warmer, snugger against you.
Every time he tugged you in like that, the angle shifted just right, hitting deeper, making your walls flutter around him without warning.
You whimpered into his mouth, the sound swallowed as he rocked up to meet the next pull of the short, deep thrusts that never let him slip out far, just kept grinding him in tight circles inside you.
Your fingers curled at the back of his neck, nails scratching lightly into his skin as you clung to him.
His grip on your ass stayed strong, fingers kneading the soft flesh, spreading you open a little more with each push so you took every inch without resistance. The wet sounds between you grew louder with filthy squelches every time he forced your hips down and your bodies met completely.
“Megumi,” you managed, voice cracking, nails biting into his shoulders now.
He swallowed hard, eyes half‑shut, breath stuttering. “Yeah?” he rasped, voice low and rough. “I—mhh—feel good”
He just kept pulling you deeper with those firm hands on your ass, rocking his hips up in time so the head of him dragged over that spot inside again and again.
Your chest slid against his with every movement, nipples catching and scraping over his skin, the raw friction making your breath hitch, your thighs shaking harder as everything narrowed to the stretch of him filling you, the way his palms squeezed and guided you down harder, your feet pressing into the bed like you could force him even deeper, the slick heat where you were joined so completely.
Then it broke.
You came hard, a choked moan muffled into his neck as your walls clamped down around him in pulsing waves, squeezing him tight.
He groaned low, hips jerking once—twice—his fingers digging deeper into your ass as he pushed you down one last time and spilled inside you, arms locking tight around your back like he needed to hold on just as much as you did.
For a long minute after, neither of you moved. Just clung. Breathing hard against each other’s skin. Your arms stayed around his neck, holding him close, your chest still pressed to his as you tried to catch your breath. His hands stayed on your ass, softer now, thumbs stroking slow circles over the marks he’d left.
Eventually he pressed a slow, open kiss to the side of your neck.
“When did you become such a pro” he whispered, voice hoarse.
You smiled into his hair, fingers tracing lazy patterns down his spine.
“Don’t get mad ” you said despite still trying to catch your breath . “But those fanfics you told me to stop reading helped ”
summary: Is falling for your husband the worst thing to possibly happen?
content: 18+ mdni, smut, very little plot, established relationship (marriage), large age gap (reader's 23 and Baelor's 42), hand kink, fingering, the rings stay on, praise kink, slight size kink, Baelor Targaryen has a big d, unprotected p in v, creampie, slight overstimulation, aftercare
wc: around 5,9k
author's note: so sorry for the time it took me but i have to study to get into the uni i wanna go to so yeah, that sucks.. anyway, hope you guys can enjoy!!
It was not a match made of love — you and Baelor — but rather one of convenience.
Early in the year you learned your marriage prospects had been under discussion. Your fate was to be decided by a council of men twice or thrice your age. They would sell you to the highest bidder — of that you could be sure — and you'd spend the rest of your life locked up in some castle, made to squeeze out one babe after the other. You hated the idea as much as you despised your situation.
You were not married off young — a Targaryen princess, eldest daughter to Rhaegel forgotten about in the aftermath of the rebellion. Now the court considered you much too old for regular suitors — thought you a spinster at the bright age of three-and-twenty — so there was far too little acceptable options left for you. And so you found yourself beyond hopeless.
That was until you learned of your uncle's predicament — different, yet similar to your own. Baelor Breakspear was in need of a bride and he was free to wed the woman of his choosing. It was not an outrageous possibility — even though he was your kin, the man was kind and gallant. He had no need for multiple heirs as he had fathered two during his late marriage to the Lady Jena Dondarrion. And as you knew — he did not wish for the marriage himself, rather agreed upon the fate set on him by the men of the small council. So you had made your decision.
That night you ventured to his chambers at a late hour. After you knocked on his door the prince invited you in — he seemed slightly surprised by the sight of you. He was still working on some documents — signing them and considering what they entailed.
"Uncle, allow me to speak bluntly." you said then and he gave you a nod. "I know of your situation regarding marriage, as I assume you know of mine. I come to you with a proposal — let us marry. I find you a chivalrous man — a trait not possessed by many these days. I can only assume you'd expand that kindness to your lady wife. As to myself I can assure you I'd carry myself with the same dignity I have for years now. I would not embarass you, nor act foolishly. And I swear I would do my duty — both to you as your wife and to the realm as its future queen." you should've been nervous and yet it was as if you were discussing the weather. Your tone was steady, your back kept straight — a picture of a dignified Lady.
There was a moment of silence.
"My dear girl, I believe you do not know what you are asking for." Baelor carefully said, but it did not seem final. As if you put the image into his mind and he was considering it.
"I have not been married before, that is true. But I am a child no longer. Your own son has been wed for years now — he is my younger by a year. The question of my own marriage is to be decided without my say in it. I find you the most bearable of all my prospects, uncle. I do not wish to end up dead by childbirth in a few short years — my body no longer my own, but a vessel for bringing forth as many heirs as possible. I trust that would not become my fate by your side. I ask you for this union for I believe it could benefit us both. If you do not agree — I shall go back to my chambers and forget about ever coming here." you explained — staying true to your heart. You could not decipher his expression — was it a one of concurrence or a one of indignation? Only one thing was sure now — you held his attention fully.
"Very well then. Allow me this night to consider it, niece. I shall bring forth an answer on the morrow." he said after a moment of thought and with that — you had been dismissed.
The next day when you awoke there was already a small roll of parchment on your table — bearing the Lord Hand's seal. You cracked it open and read its contents. Baelor agreed to your proposal.
You were wed in two moons time.
It had been months since your marriage to the prince. You were content as his wife — he treated you with the utmost respect and kindness. Yet there was a part of your union that had not been planned — the feelings you harboured during all this time.
You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when you knew yourself to have fallen for your husband. It happened gradually, you supposed.
Through all the feasts he was vigil at your side — assuring your comfort on top of fulfilling his duties as the Hand. He allowed you to stay near as he discussed the matters of the realm — rarely sending you away when various Lords requested his opinion.
Baelor also gave you your space — you could spend your days as you pleased. You obviously treated the duties of a Princess of Dragonstone with the utmost importance — engaging with Ladies of the proper standing, attending court as it was held, politely speaking to nobles and emissaries. But after all that — you could bury yourself in books or spend far too much time on horseback. You were grateful to your husband for that.
The both of you had fallen into a quiet routine. Every third night or so he would call for you to come to his chambers — a servant at your door would inform you of it and lead you to his as if you did not know the way.
You and Baelor then talked — at times for hours on end. He would confide in you — about the matters discussed by the small council, about documents he was supposed to sign, about the fear for his father's health as well as his worries for Valarr. He asked for your opinion on various things — taxes, your own ideas on laws to help the realm, certain Lords and Ladies alike. The both of you discussed volumes you had found in the library and their contents — even argued about that some nights. You liked those nights — and the fact that you would always revisit it to see who was right.
Yet it was all for the sake of keeping up appearances. Your lord husband had not laid a hand on you since your wedding night — even though you shared a bed. You were grateful for that too — at first. And then you became frustrated — so much so that the nights you spent alone would be filled with the moans of his name, your hand between your thighs bringing you to ecstasy. What you had no way of knowing was he spent the same nights in similar fashion — fucking into his own fist, muttering out your name as if it were a prayer.
You were blind to his longing glances and touches lingering a moment too long during dancing — just as he was blind to your clandestine smiles meant only for him and your subtle acts of seduction. The two of you truly were a perfect match.
And so when one night — after perhaps one too many cups of Dornish red — he brought you back to his own chambers you found yourself restless. Baelor helped you out with the lacing of your dress — as well as the one of your corset. He then turned his gaze away — closing his eyes as you let the fabric pool at your feet. You stepped out of it — now clad in only a sheer shift.
He waited until you were abed and under the covers to open his eyes again. Only then did he start undressing himself — pulling out his 'Hand of the King' pin from the fabric of his doublet and then taking it off. The prince did not notice your hungry gaze on his bare back. Once he was only in his breeches he slipped under the covers himself — just to find you already on your side, facing him.
"Thank you, husband. You have been beyond kind in all those months of our marriage. It has exceeded my expectations for which I am grateful. Even though I fear you shall never desire me in the way a man desires a woman, I am truly happy with our union. So again — thank you." you said, your voice serene and then leaned forward to place a whisper of a kiss upon his cheek. Before Baelor could fully register what had just happened — you were already turning onto your other side, your back now to him.
Your husband laid there, frozen in shock. His wife feared he would not desire her — a ridiculous notion. He had spent months yearning for you — too afraid he'd ruin the very thing he promised you upon agreeing to your marriage. Now with this newfound knowledge — there was only one thing he could do.
He came up closer to you back — his chest almost flush with it. And — to your utmost suprise — you felt your husband's fingers lifting your chemise to caress the outer side of your bare thigh. You sobered up instantly.
The touch was warm and gentle, felt almost cautious — as if your lord husband was wary not to startle you, yet you were all but afraid. Heat radiated through you, as if there was a fire raging beneath your skin — wild and uncontained. Your breath stilled but your body moved of its own accord, your legs spreading a little — a quiet invitation.
You heard a sharp intake of breath which was followed by a more firm grip on your thigh. Baelor's calloused — from years upon years of wielding a sword — fingers were traveling across your skin, getting closer to the inside of your thigh. Once they reached it you let out a quiet sigh and so did he. You wanted to say something, to ask something — so did he — and yet the both of you remained quiet if not for the small gasps and shaky breaths. The game was on — who would be the one to speak out first?
You couldn't see his face and yet you could swear there was a grin upon his lips when he reached in between your legs. At first his hand teasingly cupped your already soaked, bare sex — the signets and various rings cold against your heat — at which your hips bucked into his touch. His fingers spread your folds, coating themselves in your wetness — tender was the way your prince touched you — and pulling a moan out of your lips. They circled the small bundle of nerves — the one that had your vision blurring — putting enough pressure on it to have you cry out, your hand clawing at Baelor's strong arm just to ground yourself. He placed a gentle kiss upon your shoulder, the course hair of his beard scratching your skin a little.
The movements of his hand countinued eliciting soft gasps from you and there was a slowly growing pressure in your abdomen — not yet ready to erupt, but undeniably there. And then his fingers left your clit, creeping down towards your dripping enterance — just to tease you by not entering. You whimpered, your nails digging into his arm to rush him — he just kissed your shoulder again. The torture seemed to never end — with Baelor constantly not giving into your cravings, just going around them — and it was maddening.
Finally, he pushed one of his fingers into you and your back arched — your inner walls fluttering at the intrusion and your grip on his arm tightening. Just as could be expected — the finger was bigger than your own ones and it was clad in jewlery. He started pumping it in and out of your pussy, ever so slowly. The palm of his hand was rubbing on your clit with each thrust, the delicious friction making you writhe in his grasp. And then he added a second finger — you moaned, loudly enough to startle yourself.
You remembered him opening you up with his fingers on your wedding night but it was nothing like this — not as exquisite, definitely not causing you to loose yourself in the sensations. It's not to say your wedding night was terrible — of which you had been previously afraid of. It was fairly painless and the prince was kind — so you've been granted more than most women — but your body didn't react to him like this back then.
You also couldn't compare your own taking care of your needs to your current situation. When you were alone it felt good — good to touch yourself right where you wanted it. Your husband's touch however felt different — his palms wider than your own, his fingers longer and a bit rougher — as he teased you, not giving into your desires right away.
Now though you felt the pressure growing in your abdomen with each move of his wrist. Baelor still didn't speak a word — just ground his hips into your backside, revealing he was hard as a rock. You trembled. And then his fingers curled upwards and brushed across a spongy spot inside you — your back arched, ass pressing right onto his cock and a sob fell from your parted mouth. You felt your husband smile upon the skin of your bare shoulder.
He stroked his fingers inside your pussy at the same exact angle as a moment before. You felt yourself closer to your undoing, your legs trembled and lewd noises filled your shared chambers — your moans as well as the wet squelching sounds coming from between your legs. Your thighs clad around his broad wrist like a vice, doing their best to slow the onslaught of pleasure that was urging you toward your peak. But you knew you didn't want it to stop — needed him to keep going.
And it didn't slow him down — with force he pushed his thick digits inside you again and again, bullying them into your pussy. You were constantly grabbing at his muscled arm, your lips parted to let out moans and whimpers alike, your brow furrowed.
Baelor loved it — loved the way you were arching into him, loved the way your cunt clamped down on his middle and ring finger, loved the noises so unbecoming of a proper lady. But in here you did not need to care for propriety — not in front of him, not in your marital bed. He wanted you just as you were — not the carefully crafted version presented to the court.
"Just like that, my sweet girl. You're taking my fingers so well. So good for me. Come around them, will you?" your husband's whispered words came off almost breathless. He did not care for stupid games any longer — needed you to know how well you were doing.
Suddenly, the tight coil in your lower abdomen snapped. Your body went taut, all muscles straining with exertion — thighs quaking, eyes shut, mouth agape and a sinful cry spilling from it. His fingers continued pumping into you, fucking you through the waves of your release. You squirmed in his grasp, your body seemingly unable to take on even a second more of stimulation.
"Baelor!" you gasped, your nails digging into his forearm — hard enough to leave marks — to try and pull his hand away from your abused cunt. He let you — withdrawing his hand from betwen your thighs — but not before cupping your whole sex in his palm at which you shuddered.
Before you could fully catch your breath you felt his strong hold on your hips — flipping your trembling body so you'd face him. And the sight before you? It was magnificent. His pupils were blown wide, making his eyes almost match in colour — and they were set on you. You knew his passing glances in court, secret looks shot your way during feasts — but not this. Now there was something else in the way he looked at you. Yes, it was with care — as he has always done — but there was something deeper, more unrestrained. You did not dare name it for him — and yet the same thing shone in your own eyes.
You wouldn’t wait a moment longer — felt as if you physically couldn't. Your lips reached his with a feverishness you didn't know yourself to possess. The prince wasn't indifferent either — he matched your fire with his own, his kisses scorchingly hot. You were both trying to claim each other — as if a simple moment was not enough. As if you needed to be melted together for eternity.
You let your lips part, an invitation for his tounge. Baelor took it with a frenzy of a man starved. There was nothing soft, nor mellow in the way your mouth chased his. Desperate — a description of the both of you — yet still human. Still needing to part for breath.
"I love you, Baelor. I have for months now. I know our match was not one made of love, but despite my best efforts I can't stay oblivious to the obvious. I wouldn’t have dreamed of disturbing you with this if not for what has just transpired — but now I have a shadow of hope you might share my torment of wanting the forbidden. If you do not bear the same passions tell me so at once, I beg of you, and I shall never speak of them again." the words flew out of your mouth before you could think them through. They were breathless and longing, a palpable proof of your dishevelled state. And yet when you finally found the courage to fully look him in the eye — his gaze was already on you.
"Oh my dear wife, don't you dare suggest I have been alien to what you're speaking of. Do you think my heart to be made of stone? I have tried to practice restraint, tried to give you the union we have agreed upon. Yet it is all to no avail. Every night we are parted I dream of you, every feast I search for your presence as if for salvation. I have loved you for a long time now and by your confession you have saved me from my anguish, ñuha jorrāeliarzy." he whispered fervently, his palm moving to cup your cheek had you leaning into it. There was a soft smile on his face and now you could place the emotion in his eyes — it was love. It felt as though you could take a breath after being underwater for a very long time.
"Ñuha valzyyrys." you breathed, all eloquent thought escaping your mind — leaving only these two words. You were overflown with emotion — so much so that a single tear rolled down your cheek. His thumb caught it — wiping at your skin.
"I have been a fool for not acting on my desires right until tonight. Allow me to make it up to you now, sweet girl." the prince pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a promise. You nodded, not saying anything — too scared your voice would crack.
There was a caring smile on his lips as he rolled you onto your back and climbed over you — propping himself up on his elbows as not to crush you under his weight. He settled between your thighs and they wrapped around his waist on instinct. Your chemise was now pooled around your waist — a result of your previous endevours — leaving your drenched sex completly bare against the fabric of his breeches.
He could feel your arousal dampening the material as he ground his hips into yours — which earned him your shudder and a mewl. The pressure of his hard cock on you – so close and yet not close enough — was exquisite. Baelor lowered his face into the crook of your neck with a heavy sigh.
"Are you sure you want this, ñuha riña?" he then asked, his voice muffled due to kisses he was pressing into your skin. Instead of an answer all he got was your hand in his hair, fingers pulling him forcefully up and toward your own face — just so you could kiss him as he groaned.
"Your wish is my command, wife." he chuckled softly. You had to admit you rather liked the sound — so much so your hips bucked up to meet his, eliciting a low gasp from him and a whimper from your own self. Your hands trailed down to his breeches.
"May I, husband?" your fingers hesitated at the laces — waiting for his consent. It came in a form of a thrust into your waiting palm. You did not say anything as you pulled at the strings and they came undone — nor as you tugged them down, freeing his cock and letting it rest on your abdomen. Only kissed him deeply, claiming him as yours.
It was perfect — the way you fit together. Your mouths molded together, your bodies working in a harmonious tandem. Your legs parted perfectly around his hips, as if he was meant to be between them. His strong muscled arms bracketed your head — letting you forget there was a world outside of your marital bed. And yet it was not enough, you realised there was a constant ache deep in you. A need only he could cure.
"Baelor, I need you, please I-" he cut you off, his lips closing in on yours — you melted into the kiss, your thoughts drifting away. Upon parting you noticed his hand was sneaking between you, reaching his length.
Even though you were quite inexperienced — with no lovers previous to marriage — you knew your husband to be well endowed. He was thick and there were visible veins around his shaft — as well as a certain heaviness to it. His tip was now glistening, a pearly bead of fluid adorning it. You shuddered at the thought of him inside you, even though you knew yourself to be able to take him — had done so once already. A fact you were truly marvelled at now.
"You want me inside you, sweet girl? Is that what you're begging for so prettily? I didn't know my wife to be so desperate for her husband's cock. I have to remedy that, don't I?" the prince teased and you nearly cried out for him — but before you could do that you felt him at your enterance. He wasn’t pushing in yet, just coating himself in your arousal. Your breath caught and your hands flew to his broad shoulders — to hold on to him.
"Gevie." he sighed, his head resting in the crook of your neck.
And then Baelor started — ever so slowly — pushing his tip in. You whimpered, your nails digging into his skin, your thighs wrapping around him tighter. His own body trembled — with restraint and pleasure alike — and he let out a deep groan. It was torturous — the shallow thrusts that were gradually spearing your insides open. The pressure that came with it was not completly foreign but long past being familiar.
"A tight little thing, aren't you? Squeezing me within an inch of my life. We've only just begun, dear wife." his muffled chuckle sounded out against your skin. It was followed by another roll of his hips at which you gasped. And another. And another. You could've sworn you were whimpering — but it all seemed so distant now. It was as if you were no longer inside your own body.
"So good for me. You're doing so good. That sweet cunt was made for my cock, stretching around me so well." you heard him say, the praise falling off his tounge easily. Your inner walls clenched around him at that and you felt him smile. Wetness dripped out of you, coating him and the linens under you — which allowed his thrusts to reach deeper.
You felt full — incredibly so. And yet when you looked down the planes of your body, between the two of you — you saw there was still about an inch to go. The sound that escaped you was one of pleasure and exasperation both. He only grinned into your skin upon hearing it. And then he pushed in right to the hilt.
Your back arched off the bed, your breasts brushing against his chest. The moan you let out was undoubtedly sinful — he answered it with one of his own. Baelor stilled as your nails scraped down his back and your thighs clamped around him like a vice. He waited for a moment and then two — letting you adjust to the fullness.
Your breath was shallow and you had to will yourself into taking a full one. You kissed him — deep and thorough, your tounge exploring his mouth to distract yourself. All through the kiss he did not move an inch — even though the gods knew how much he desired to do so.
Eventually — your breathing calmed, your nails were no longer digging into his skin and the fullness started feeling almost natural. It had you craving more so you bucked your hips — what in turn got you his hiss.
"You want me to fuck you? Is that so? A word would've sufficed, love." his words reached your ears, low and full of lust. You trembled.
And then your husband withdrew himself from your heat — just to slam back into you, causing you to cry out his name. He repeated the motion — set a punishing rhythm to it. You felt as if he was bringing you to the edge of madness — your sanity dangling on a very thin thread.
Your body was already sensitive — still feeling the aftermath of your first peak. Your pussy was clenching down with the onslaught of sensations — which caused him to put more force into his thrusts. He was merciless in bringing you to your pinnacle, your dear husband.
Baelor reached down with one hand. It landed on your thigh, the flesh of it plump and meaty. He hiked it up — bending it and pushing it toward your chest. The next slam of his hips into yours had you crying out, holding onto him for dear life. The change of angle made his cock rub against the tender spot inside you — the one that made your vision blur and your back arch.
"I wish you could see yourself, love. Maybe I should fuck you in front of a mirror next? You are truly exquisite, especially now. A real beauty, taking my cock so well. I'm so proud of you, my sweet girl." your husband's words would make you blush — if not for the fact he had seemingly fucked the ability of recognition right out of your mind.
You were not used to him using such language. He was usually perfectly composed, your prince. The perfect heir, even better Lord Hand. He was a composed man, a distinguished one. Who could have known he'd be whispering such profanities right into his wife's ear?
He rolled his hips forward — again and again. Baelor earned himself your nails, lodged into his skin once more. He'd surely bear marks on the morrow — red, crescent shapes. He was glad — wanted to carry a physical memory of you with him. It would ease the burden of his duties — let him tap back into the moment when he had you in his arms.
And while your husband was already thinking of all possible ways to have you screaming his name tonight — your thoughts were gone. They left only the sensation of him fucking you in their wake. Your brain had been certainly liquified because of that by now. And to add to it all — you couldn't trust yourself to say anything. Your voice would probably break, only sounds leaving you would be moans and cries.
With each trust now — came a whimper from your lips. You could feel the familiar pressure settling low in your abdomen. It had your pussy greedily clamping down on his length — as if it wanted to keep him inside. You knew you wouldn’t last long like this — knew he'd bring you over the egde soon enough. You wanted however to hold out for a moment longer.
Your effort would prove to be in vain.
"My pretty, little wife. You don't even know how much I wanted you through all those months. How much will I have put into not allowing myself to touch you. Every time I saw you in your nightgowns I had to restrain myself. Now I wonder if you were trying to tempt me, test my patience with all those sheer shifts. But worry not, we will make up for all the time lost. The night is long, my girl." Bealor said, his own deep voice faltering as the walls of your cunt fluttered around him. Yet he kept going. Kept bullying his cock in and out of you, leaving you shaking and sobbing in his grasp.
His rhythm was steady — even though it was brutal. And that was probably what had sent you tumbling off the edge, your climax hitting you like a brick to the head. You cried out, your fingers tightened your grip on him — pulling a hiss out of his lips because you dug your nails so deep into his skin. Your peak had your body trembling, your pussy squeezing him hard enough to make his hips falter.
To his credit — the prince kept fucking you through your release. He didn't stop when you were almost unbearably thight around him. Nor when he felt your nails tear the barrier of his skin drawing blood. He just kept muttering praises you were too fucked out to hear — guiding you through the waves of pleasure. Letting the drawn out feeling slowly subside.
And as you realised — he has not reached his own peak yet. So he kept pushing into you — into your sensitive cunt.
"Baelor I- I don't know if I can-" you tried to say, your voice unsteady and hoarse. He delivered a particularly hard thrust at that — making you whine.
"You will. You will be a good girl for me and let me fill you up. You will lay there and take all I give you, my love." he said. The command in his voice had you nodding — agreeing to please him. To make him proud of you.
And so he continued pounding into your wet heat. He loved the feel of you, all trembling and mewling under his touch. Loved the way your back arched and the way your brow creased in ecstasy. It all had him close — teetering just right on the edge of what he was desperate to reach. So his hand sneaked between your bodies — allowing his thumb to cirlce the small, tender bead near the top of your sex.
The action had you sobbing and your pussy clenching down. You were already overstimulated and the added touch was almost painful. You were sure you could be heard by every servant and courtier in the Keep alike — you couldn't bring yourself to care.
Baelor's rhythm staggered. As it turned out all he needed was to feel your muscles spasm on his throbbing cock. He buried himself right to the hilt with a guttural moan — earning him yet another cry from your lips. And he allowed his release to overtake him, spilling his seed deep into you — stuffing you full of it. His strong shoulders shaked and one of his hands grabbed at the pillows — grounding himself through his pleasure.
And then your battle hardened husband collapsed — as if struck down. His weight was comforting — even if only for a moment. For before you could fully embrace him, he was already rolling you both to the side. It allowed you to stay in his arms as his cock stayed lodged in you. You sighed — a quiet, content sound.
The prince leaned back to look at your face — at your shut eyes and features slowly softening.
"You did well, sweet girl. Took me so good. I'm glad to have such a wife." he said before pressing a kiss to your forehead. You melted at his words.
When the both of you settled into a comfortable position you started gradually drifting off to sleep. That's when you felt him move. He carefully withdrew himself out of you — ever so delicate. Yet you still whimpered, still needed to hold onto him. He could only offer you an apologetic kiss.
You winced at the empty feeling — felt his seed start dripping out. It was strange — how easily you got used to him streching you out and how wrong it felt when he wasn’t doing so. Especially considering how a very short time ago you were falling apart trying to take all of his cock.
The chamber was quiet if not for your steady breaths — until you heard the unmistakable rustling of sheets and felt the sudden lack of a husband at your side. Your eyes flew open, searching for his figure in the dark room. You found him going towards a basin filled with water, a cloth in hand. Upon reaching the bowl he dipped the fabric into it. Your gaze followed his movements, trailing the expanse of his bare form. A strong, muscled back. Broad shoulders, relaxed now — as if an invisible weight had been taken off them. And a whole litter of already paled scars.
You wanted to kiss each and every one of them.
He came back to bed with the damp material and sat beside you — then leaned down to place a soft kiss upon your lips, one you returned. You felt his palm on your thigh, spreading your legs and reaching for your sex. Felt him gently run the cloth along your folds — collecting all the fluids. Even though he did it with the utmost care — an involuntary shudder ran through your body.
He kissed you again. It was all delicate, loving — tender. You wanted him close — as much as it was possible. So you pulled him down onto the matress at which he let out a hearty laugh — but allowed it nonetheless. As soon as he was at your level Baelor tugged you to his chest — wrapping his arms around you, his fingers slowly playing with your hair.
"Rest for now, sweet girl. I'm not done with you yet." he murmured and you said a quick prayer in your mind — asking the Gods to grant you strength.
You did as the prince told you to though — sleep creeping up on you easily in his embrace. The last thing you registered was him pulling up the linens to cover you both up and his hand stroking your hair.
You barely slept that night. Baelor's hunger for you disallowed you from rest — he claimed you in so many different ways it would've made even a whore blush.
On the morrow he simply dressed and with a kiss to your forehead, departed for his everyday duties — ever the proper heir. You stayed abed the whole day — feining indisposal.
You had never again slept in your own chambers after that.
synopsis: in which your reckless driving leads to you spending your summer babysitting your father’s business partners son.
genre: rich dad au
pairing: chaebol!jay x younger bratty!reader
warnings: 12 year age gap! reader is 23 and jay is 35, lots and lots of tension, bratty!reader, meandom!jay, possessive!jay, bickering, lots of cornering (like a lot), forced submission, spanking ass + pussy, dub-con in some instances, (oral f. rec), fingering, choking, manhandling, binding with belt, rough p in v (unprotected), forced confession of feelings, cum eating, lots of talk about age. i think that’s it ….
wc: 22.4k
a/n: holy fuck balls you guys. this was the longest piece i’ve written and i feel like ive lost my mind. i feel like a changed woman with all this plot and the minimal smut… like what happened. also wtf is a 1000 block limit…? i had to go back and merge paragraphs because tumblr has a limit apparently. so now, it’s just merged together which is so annoying. anyways, this is for those who voted for babysitter jay! stay tuned i plan on putting another pole out for the next fic. thank you for all the love on my fics <33 notes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated. enjoy :)))
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
you should've known something like this would happen. when your father instructed you to go to his office to pick up some papers for him, you had a gut feeling that something bad was going to happen.
it was your father's fault, really. if he hadn't called you in the middle of the day, nagging about how you needed to "grow up" and "take responsibility" and "learn a thing or two from your old man," you wouldn't have been so distracted. and if you hadn't been so distracted, you wouldn't have slammed your car straight into the back of someone else's.
a very expensive looking car at that.
your heart was still hammering against your ribs as you sat stiffly on the sidewalk, your car parked haphazardly next to the damaged luxury vehicle you had just rear-ended. you stumbled out of your car, not having the guts to walk up to the car you had absolutely demolished to talk to the owner.
people passing by casted you pitying glances, but none of them could possibly understand the deep, all-consuming regret swirling in your chest.
your father was going to kill you.
worse, the owner of the car was going to kill you.
"you've got to be fucking kidding me."
a deep voice cut through the sound of honking cars and murmuring pedestrians. you squeezed your eyes shut, already dreading the moment you'd have to turn around. but you had no choice, so with a slow inhale, you finally lifted your gaze.
oh fuck my life.
and immediately wanted to crawl into a hole.
"oh, you've really done it this time," you muttered under your breath, swallowing harshly as the man you recognized as jay park, your father's business partner, the ceo of a multimillion-dollar company, and the man whose car you just destroyed—stood in front of you.
looking absolutely livid.
jay was wearing a crisp black suit, but his jacket was slung over his arm, and the top buttons of his white dress shirt were undone. despite the clear annoyance twisting his sharp features, he still managed to look ridiculously handsome. infuriatingly handsome. disregarding your history with the man, you didn't know if you wanted to jump his bones or get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.
his dark eyes flickered from the dent in his car's bumper to where you sat on the sidewalk, one brow raising as realization dawned on him.
"you have got to be kidding me," he repeated, voice laced with disbelief. "of course it's you". his dark eyes narrowed down on your smaller frame, his mouth twisted in a scowl as he ran his hand through his thick black locks in frustration.
you scowled, crossing your arms. "what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
fuck his forgiveness.
jay let out a sharp laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. "it means i'm not even surprised. reckless, irresponsible, and spoiled? sounds exactly like you."
"let me guess? daddy's going to take care of this for you? typical," he sneers down at you.
your blood boiled, immediately getting up from the sidewalk so you could stalk up to him. "oh, please. don't act like you know me." he scoffed, leaning down slightly so that his face was closer to yours. "i don't need to know you. your reputation does all the talking, brat."
you clenched your jaw at the name.
he wasn't completely wrong, but you'd rather die than admit that.
jay exhaled heavily, moving back up and pulling out his phone. "i'm calling your father."
your eyes widened in panic. "wait! no, you don't have to do that—"
but it was too late. jay was already dialing, his expression unreadable as he brought the phone to his ear.
you felt like you were about to throw up.
you didn't hear the full conversation, but based on the way jay's jaw tightened and the glance he shot you, you could tell it wasn't going well. after a few more exchanges, he hung up, slipping his phone back into his pocket.
"so?" you asked hesitantly, already bracing yourself for the worst. jay crossed his arms, looking far too pleased with himself. "your father and i came to an agreement."
you narrowed your eyes. "what kind of agreement?"
jay smirked. "instead of paying for the damage, you're going to babysit my son as reparation."
you stared at him. blinked. "what?"
he checked his watch, clearly done with the conversation. "i'll send you the details later. don't be late." and just like that, he walked off, leaving you standing by the sidewalk, utterly speechless.
this could not be happening.
babysitting? you?
you groaned, letting your head drop back.
this was going to be a nightmare, and you needed to wake up.
you make your way to your car, your fists clenching as you mentally prepare yourself to talk to your father.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
"this is so unnecessary, dad."
your father scoffs half heartedly, "you made a mistake, this is the least you could do, __."
"why can't we pay for the repairs, this is completely unnecessary!" you exclaim, your perfectly maintained brows shooting up as you cross your arms—staring at your father with a pointed look.
"besides, he could get anyone who's actually good with children to babysit his kid," you add on with a huff.
he sighs, his eyes shutting in temporary defeat, "__," he says with a warning tone. "mr.park is being nice enough to not file a report and get points deducted from your licence and possibly have your permit suspended. the least you could do is babysit his son, it shows that you are remorseful for your actions. the kids well behaved and you only need to be there for a few hours."
you roll your eyes, this was stupid. it's not like he even cared about the car, so what you crashed into it.
"fine, but just this once. this isn't going to be a reoccurring thing, right?" you hiss at the end, looking at your father with resentment when his face changes into one of relief.
"i may have mentioned that you're not taking classes in the summer, and that you're free throughout the week so we'll see..." he trails off, watching your expression morph into one of disbelief.
"are you ser—" you begin only for knocking at the door to interrupt your sentence. you whip your head around harshly, ready to verbally abuse whoever had dared to interrupt you.
"come in."
the door opened slightly, a house maid peering her head between the crack. "mr.__, mr.kim is here," she informs timidly, catching onto the bad energy in the room.
your father smiles, "we'll be right down, thank you teresa."
you scowl at her, her eyes widening for a moment before she scurries off—shutting the door behind her.
"dad i—" he cuts you off, "—__, we will continue this conversation next time. mr.kim is waiting for us downstairs, you know what to do when mr.park contacts you, right?" his eyebrows furrowed as he stares at you with narrowed eyes.
you let out a frustrated sigh, "yes, dad."
"good, be on your best behaviour."
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
later that evening, you had sufficiently screamed into your pillow and considered packing your bags to flee the country. you were on the phone with one of your best friends, minho, who attempted to comfort you through your mental break down.
"you don't understand, minho. my life is ending," you wailed softly, pressing your face against your pillow—almost suffocating yourself.
minho rolls his eyes behind the screen, he was lucky you weren't on facetime or you'd have his neck.
"__, you're literally just babysitting for the man. you'll be fine."
"no, minho. you're still not getting it! it's the fact that i have to babysit for that asshole. i swear to god i've had beef with him for the last 4 years. he always has a stick up his ass," you ramble.
"are you sure you have beef with him? sounds one sided to me.." he trails off making you let out a gasp—offended at his words.
"you're supposed to be on my side, dick. whatever, i'll talk to you later. if i'm not dead," you whine dramatically.
minho scoffs, "yeah, yeah. love you, talk soon."
"love you too, bitch. bye."
you hang up the phone, staring mindlessly at your roof as you think about the events of today. jay wouldn't be so bad if he wasn't so uptight all the time. he was actually hot. really, hot.
you think back to the times where the two of you interacted, the fake polite nods you sent his ways and the way he tried to hide his dislike for you behind his charming smile whenever there were others around. the way he'd brush up against you whenever he walked by you, or how his voice deepened when he said your name.
you had noticed his gaze slide up and down your frame on multiple occasions, choosing to ignore it but secretly loving the way he looked like he hated you. however, all these moments get pushed aside when you remember all the times he was an absolute dick towards you.
jay had a way of making himself the most infuriating person on the planet—whether he did it on purpose or not. and judging by the smug way his lips always curled whenever he got under your skin, you knew it was always on purpose. he liked seeing you riled up, he liked it when you bit back at him.
the first time you met him, he completely ignored you. it was at some stupid business dinner your father had forced you to attend. while everyone exchanged pleasantries, jay didn't even acknowledge you. not a single glance. not even when you introduced yourself. instead, he sipped his whiskey, eyes trained on anything but you. it wasn't until you had walked past him that he finally said something.
"spoiled little princess, huh?"
you turned back, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "what did you just say to me?" this was the first time he had talked to you, and this is what he has to say?
he smirked over the rim of his glass. "nothing."
you scoffed, rolling your eyes in distaste before sauntering away. jay's eyes following every movement of your hips as you slowly get lost in the crowd.
he loved pointing out your mistakes.
when you got a flat tire outside your father's office, jay happened to be walking by. you were already frustrated, struggling with your phone to call for roadside assistance, when his voice rang out behind you.
"let me guess. you don't even know how to change a tire, do you?"
you scoffed, glaring at him. "do you?"
he chuckled, shaking his head. "of course i do. but i don't help people who look at me like they'd rather set me on fire."
he always had a comment about your attitude.
"you pout too much."
you blinked, pausing mid-sip of your drink. "excuse me?"
jay leaned against the bar counter at yet another business event, swirling the ice in his glass as he looked at you with mild amusement. "you pout too much. like a brat who didn't get what she wanted."
you scoffed, setting your glass down with a little too much force. "maybe that's just my face."
he smirked, eyes flickering to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "yeah? then why do you only do it around me?"
it was safe to say that you hated him and overall wanted nothing to do with him or his kid.
you groan into your pillow, "why me," you whine. suddenly, your phone pings.
you received a text from an unknown number.
jay: 9 am sharp. don't be late. i don't tolerate irresponsibility.
you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly got stuck in the back of your head.
you: don't worry, i wouldn't dare disappoint you, your highness.
his reply came almost immediately.
jay: that's mr. park to you.
you: my deepest apologies, park jongseong.
he didn't respond after that.
dickwad.
you tossed your phone onto your bed, groaning into your hands.
this was going to be a very, very long summer.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
you were not a morning person, and your lack of sleep was not helping. so when your alarm blared at an ungodly hour, your first instinct was to throw your phone across the room and go back to sleep—but you couldn't. because you had a job to do.
a job that you weren't getting compensated for.
or, more accurately, a job you were being forced into doing. it was unpaid labor by your father.
"consider it a way to build character and experience," he had said to you, sipping his coffee without a shred of sympathy or remorse as you gaped at him.
"consider it a way to ruin my life," you had shot back, but it hadn't mattered.
so here you were, running on three hours of sleep and a whole lot of resentment, pulling up to jay park's house—a sleek, modern mansion that screamed wealth. the kind of wealth that made you roll your eyes but also, begrudgingly, admire just a little. the driveway alone could fit at least six cars, and the front door? massive, dark wood, and intimidating as hell.
jay displayed his wealth proudly, whereas your father preferred to keep himself grounded. you get out of the car, your father had insisted that the driver drop you off.
"we don't need you crashing into another one of mr.park's cars," he had said, ushering you out the door.
you rolled your eyes, begrudgingly agreeing, not because you agreed that you were a terrible driver. but because you were tired and didn't have it in you to argue with him and get your way.
"when shall i pick you up ma'am?" your driver asked you.
you think for a second, "i'll inform you when."
you sighed, running a hand through your hair before pressing the doorbell.
within seconds, the door swung open. revealing a rather, dare you say, scandalous looking jongseong.
his typically neatly slicked back hair was frazzled, strands of his dark locks picking onto his forehead. he was wearing a thin white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the first few buttons of his shirt undone, a thin silver chain adorned on his neck and his exposed collar bone. his plump lips were pulled into a rather lazy smirk in contrast to his typical scowl that you were used to him greeting you with. his sharp gaze flickering over you like he was already unimpressed.
it was entirely unfair how good he looked this early in the morning.
his lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't exactly friendly either.
"you're late."
your eyes narrowed, glancing at your phone. "it's 9:02."
jay raised a brow. "exactly."
your jaw clenched. two minutes. he was seriously acting like two damn minutes was a crime.
you forced a tight-lipped smile. "where's the kid?"
before jay could respond, a small figure peeked out from behind him—a little boy, no older than five, with round cheeks and big, curious eyes.
jay made a cute kid, you'll give him that. jay placed a hand on his head, his expression softening just slightly. "this is seojun. seojun, this is __. she's going to be taking care of you today."
he steps aside, allowing you into his home. you admire the interior, mouth opening in awe as you take off your shoes.
seojun blinked up at you before stepping forward, arms crossed in a stance far too judgmental for a five-year-old.
"do you know how to make pancakes?"
what happened to 'hello, how are you?'
you hesitated for a moment, looking up at jay in confusion only for him to give you a 'well, do you?' look. "uh... sure?"
seojun narrowed his eyes. "do you actually, or are you lying?" jay let out a soft chuckle, and you immediately shot him a glare.
"i can make pancakes," you insisted, then quickly added, "probably."
seojun sighed like a man three times his age, shaking his head. "we're doomed."
jay patted his son's head, lips twitching. "good luck," he says. he reaches for his trench coat and bag that were set neatly by the door on a cushioned bench.
your eyes widened. "wait, you're leaving?"
"that's usually how work goes."
"you could at least pretend to care about abandoning your child with a stranger."
jay gave you a pointed look. "you crashed into my car. this is me pretending. and i have 911 on speed dial." you opened your mouth to argue but stopped when you felt a tiny hand grip your wrist.
"you're wasting time," seojun said seriously, already pulling you toward the kitchen. "if you burn my breakfast, i'm calling the cops."
jay smirked as you shot him one last glare before getting dragged away by his tiny, opinionated son.
ten minutes later, and you were already regretting everything. you stumbled around the kitchen blindly, allowing the spawn of satan to boss you around.
"that's too much flour."
"are you sure you cracked that egg right?"
"why does the batter look like that?"
"are you even qualified to be in a kitchen?"
you turned slowly to seojun, who was sitting on the counter with his arms crossed, watching your every move with a level of scrutiny that made you nervous. truth be told, you had never made pancakes. you were going off memory of what your housemaids had put into the batter when you asked for pancakes one morning—happening to pay attention to them cooking.
"do you wanna make the pancakes?" you asked, raising a brow—getting tired of his attitude and critiques.
"no," he said simply. "i just don't want to die eating them."
you exhaled sharply. "listen here, you little—"
"language," seojun cut in, and you swore you heard jay's smug influence in that tone.
you were never having kids.
ever.
despite his relentless judgment, you somehow managed to make edible pancakes. you plated them with a dramatic flourish, sliding one in front of seojun before grabbing a plate for yourself. he stared at it for a long moment before finally taking a bite. you held your breath.
"...not bad," he muttered.
you gasped, pressing a hand to your chest dramatically. "was that a compliment?"
he rolled his eyes. "don't get used to it."
little shit.
you smirked, finally digging into your own breakfast, only to be interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
jay was home. already?
he stepped into the kitchen, shrugging off his coat, his eyes scanning the scene in front of him. the not-burnt pancakes. seojun eating without complaint. and much to his disappointment—you, still alive.
his brow lifted in shock, "huh."
you glared at him, "what?"
jay leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "i figured you'd give up by now."
you scoffed. "sorry to disappoint."
seojun swallowed his bite, glancing between the two of you before shaking his head. "you guys fight too much. i thought adults were mature."
jay smirked. "we don't fight."
you scoffed. "we absolutely do."
"no, you just get mad when i say things that are true."
your eye twitched. "i literally hate you."
"see? fighting," seojun interrupts.
"oh my god."
seojun groaned, dropping his fork. "i liked it better when you were just burning pancakes."
jay chuckled, grabbing a coffee mug from the cabinet. "get used to it, kid."
you narrowed your eyes at him. if you weren't being forced into this, you would have walked out already.
but you were being forced into this.
which meant you had no choice but to deal with jay fucking park.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
babysitting, as you had quickly come to realize, was hell.
seojun was a tiny dictator with far too many opinions for a five-year-old. after breakfast, he interrogated you about your ability to tie shoelaces, your knowledge of dinosaurs, and whether or not you knew how to build a proper lego tower.
you did not, apparently.
"how do you not know how to build legos," he exclaims, his tiny hands waving in the air dramatically as he watches you go through a mental break down.
"well, i'm sorry. i didn't play with legos as a kid, i played with barbie's."
seojun twists his face in disgust, "barbie's? that's for girls."
you look at him with a deadpan expression, "i'm a girl."
"oh."
"what do you even do all day?" he asks, hands on his hips as he watched you struggle to connect two lego pieces. "i exist," you grumbled, scowling at the colorful bricks in front of you. "isn't that enough?"
seojun sighed. "you need better life skills."
"oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize i was signing up for a performance review."
"i'm just saying," he shrugged, "i expected more from someone who's supposed to be an adult."
this kid.
"i'm only 23," you grumble to yourself. you exhaled sharply, deciding to ignore his judgment as you tried again to build something that wouldn't collapse within seconds.
but then—the sound of the front door opening.
jay was home. again.
you weren't sure why this surprised you. maybe because most ceos didn't have time to just pop in and out of their mansions all day. you begin to wonder, what was the point of having you babysit his son if he wasn't going to fuck off?
seojun perked up at the sound, immediately abandoning you and your lego struggles to run toward the living room. you followed, stopping just before the hallway, eyes landing on jay.
he was pulling off his coat, dressed in a fitted dress shirt and slacks, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms.
his oh so veiny and thick forearms.
not that you were looking.
except you were. damn it.
"why are you back?" you asked, forcing yourself to look anywhere else.
jay glanced at you, expression unreadable. "this is my house." answering you as if you were stupid and unable to comprehend basic knowledge.
"you know what i meant. don't you have stuff to do?" he walked past you, ruffling seojun's hair before grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge.
"had a meeting nearby," he said, twisting the cap off. "figured i'd check in."
"to make sure i haven't killed your son yet?"
jay smirked. "basically."
you rolled your eyes. "wow. the trust is overwhelming."
before jay could respond, seojun tugged at his sleeve.
"dad, she sucks at legos."
you gasped, glaring at the boy. "excuse me?"
jay chuckled, taking a sip of his water before glancing at you, "i can't say i'm surprised."
oh, that was it.
"you know what?" you huffed, hands on your hips. "if i suck so much, why don't you do it?"
jay's brow lifted. "you want me to build legos?"
"i want you to prove you're better," you challenged. "unless you're all talk, park."
then, to your absolute horror, he smirked. "fine," he said, setting his water down. "let's play."
oh.
you immediately regretted this.
twenty minutes later, and you had never felt so humiliated in your life.
"how the hell—" you gaped at the fully functional lego castle jay had built. "this is rigged."
jay leaned back, completely smug. "some of us have talent."
you glared. "some of us have jobs that should keep them too busy for this. old man."
seojun, sitting beside his dad, was thrilled.
"you suck at this," he declared.
"okay, you don't have to rub it in," you muttered, feeling sad that the older man had beat you.
jay stood, dusting off his hands. "guess that settles it. you suck, i don't. end of discussion."
you groaned. "i hate you."
jay smirked. "i know."
seojun clapped. "yay! dad wins!"
you slumped onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling. you were never agreeing to anything ever again. jay checked his watch. "i have another meeting. try not to lose to a five-year-old while i'm gone."
you didn't even have the energy to glare at him. but you did flip him off.
jay just laughed, disappearing out of your sight.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
babysitting seojun had somehow turned into babysitting jay's goddamn ego.
he was infuriating.
it had been a full week since you started watching seojun, and in that time, jay had developed an annoying habit of randomly showing up at home between meetings, offering you nothing but sarcasm, smugness, and unsolicited criticism.
"you can't cook."
"your attention span is worse than my son's."
"what do you actually contribute to society?"
you had held your tongue, barely, choosing to channel your rage into rolling your eyes so hard it was a miracle they hadn't gotten stuck.
but today? oh, today you were done playing nice.
"__, can we please go to the park?"
the boy had asked you nicely and hadn't bullied you all day, so you said yes as a reward. seojun had wanted to go to the park, so you took him. simple. no issues.
until jay called.
"where are you?" his voice came through the speaker, low and sharp.
did the fucker have a tracker on his kid or something?
"out," you answered, watching seojun run toward the swings. a small smile makes its way on your face as you watch him giggle and make himself comfortable on the swing. he waves his hands around, trying to catch your attention.
"push me, noona!" he squeals. you grin, making your way to seojun.
"out where?" you almost forget he was on the phone.
"does it matter?" you roll your eyes with a huff.
"jesus, __." his frustration crackled through the line. "you're with my kid. tell me where you are."
you sighed. "we're at the park five minutes from your house. calm down, dad of the year."
there was a pause."stay there. i'm coming."
he hung up before you could argue.
okay then...
you huffed, shoving your phone into your pocket.
"jay's being dramatic again," you muttered to yourself, giving the little boy a push as he squeals and giggles to himself.
"he does that a lot," seojun said wisely.
even his son agrees.
when jay arrived, he looked pissed. tight jaw. furrowed brows. stiff shoulders. his hair was tousled and his shirt was ruffled slightly as he stalked his way up to you.
hot.
not the point.
"you didn't tell me you were taking him out," he said, crossing his arms. his biceps bulged in his shirt, your mouth watering slightly before seojun's giggles break you out of your trance.
you mentally slap yourself for thirsting over the man. "because it wasn't a big deal," you shot back.
"it is when you're responsible for a five-year-old who isn't yours."
you groaned. "god, you're so controlling."
jay took a step closer. "and you're reckless."
"it's a park, not a battlefield."
"it's about responsibility, __." his voice dropped, tone edged with irritation. "but i wouldn't expect you to understand that."
you froze. "excuse me?"
jay tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "you heard me."
oh, hell no.
you stepped closer, chin lifting defiantly. "what exactly is that supposed to mean?"
his gaze flickered over your face before settling on your eyes. "it means you're a little spoiled brat who doesn't know how to take care of herself let alone another person."
you scoffed. "oh, i'm sorry, are you my father now?"
"god, no," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "i don't have the patience for that. but if i was, trust me, you'd be put in your place a long time ago."
you pause, your mind blanking at his words. "then stop acting like you know me."
jay let out a dry laugh. "oh, i know you just fine."
"bullshit."
his brows raised. "you think i don't see it? the way you pout when things don't go your way? how you expect everything to be handed to you? the way you act like the world owes you something?"
your hands clenched at your sides. "you don't know a damn thing about me."
fuck you. he did know you.
jay leaned in, his breath warm against your face. "i know enough."
your heartbeat spiked. not from anger. not entirely.
because up close, jay was all heat and intensity, his cologne clouding your senses, his voice a slow drag down your spine. your lips parted, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but then he smirked.
that arrogant, knowing smirk.
and just like that, the spell broke.
you shoved him back, ignoring the way his chest was way too solid under your hands. "get over yourself, park." his expression darkens at your touch, the heat of your palms against his chest making his body twitch.
jay barely budged from your shove. but his smirk did fade.
his jaw tensed. his fingers curled into fists.
"watch yourself, __," he murmured, his voice darker than before. "you're playing a dangerous game."
so why did it feel like he wanted you to keep playing?
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
your entire body was on fire.
standing in jay's kitchen, chest heaving, hands curled into fists at your sides, you couldn't decide whether you wanted to slap him or...
no. not that.
for the past eight hours, you had been subjected to jay's controlling and condescending attitude. the constant comments, the smug little smirks, the way he seemed to take way too much pleasure in watching you struggle. you had tried, really tried, to keep your cool.
but now, standing in his sleek, modern kitchen, you were done.
"are you kidding me?" you scoffed, slamming the fridge shut. "you don't even have juice? what kind of psychopath only stocks sparkling water and black coffee?"
you were crashing out over some juice, for fucks sake.
jay barely looked up from his position, leaning against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest. "a grown man who doesn't drink sugar like a child?"
your eyes narrowed. "oh, fuck off."
his lips twitched. "watch your mouth, princess."
princess. you hated when he called you that. hated the way it sent a pulse of heat through you, how it made your stomach twist and your thighs clench. you turned to glare at him. "why are you even here? don't you have some billionaire meeting to attend?"
he shrugged. "i cleared my schedule."
"why?"
jay's smirk deepened. "because i don't trust you alone in my house."
your jaw dropped. "excuse me? i think i've proved myself trust worthy in the last few weeks."
he pushed off the counter, stepping closer, his gaze lazy and unimpressed. "you're reckless. irresponsible. spoiled."
it was always the same few adjectives that he used to describe you, it was starting to grow old. your nails dug into your palms. "and you're a control freak." he hummed, pretending to consider. "maybe. but at least i don't go around crashing into people's cars and then whining when there are consequences."
oh, fuck him.
your nostrils flared. "it was a tiny scratch!"
jay arched a brow. "a tiny scratch that cost six figures."
you gritted your teeth. "maybe if you didn't drive a car worth more than some people's houses—"
"maybe if you learned how to drive—"
your breath came short, your heart pounding in your ears as you held yourself back from launching yourself onto jay and tackling him to the ground.
"you're so fucking full of yourself," you seethed, eyes locked on his, fury bubbling under your skin. "you walk around like you own the whole damn world." jay smirked, taking another step forward, forcing you to lift your head to keep glaring at him. "maybe because i do." you let out a humorless laugh, crossing your arms which, unbeknownst to you, pushed up your chest under your tank top. "god, you're insufferable."
jay swallowed a groan, he held in everything in him whenever you'd show up in your tiny shirts and skirts. giving a clear opportunity for his gaze to wander down your form.
he wondered if you wore those things intentionally— if you’d bend down in front of him with purpose, and genuinely, he was starting to think so. all the times you'd brush up against him when wearing your little skirts — how you'd push up your chest when you'd cross your arms in frustration — it was slowly driving him insane.
his eyes flickered over your posture, his smirk deepening as he watched your chest rise and fall heavily. "and yet, you're still here."
"i didn’t have a choice!" you snapped. "if it were up to me, i wouldn't be within ten miles of you."
he hummed, looking entirely too amused. "funny, considering the way you're looking at me right now."
your jaw clenched as you glared at him, "and how am i looking at you exactly?" jay tilted his head, studying you like he knew your every thought, every single fucking move you made. like he could see right through you— the way your breath came a little quicker, the way your fists weren't just curled in anger but in restraint of jumping his bones.
his voice dropped, soft but teasing. "like you want me."
your stomach flipped violently.
"fuck you," you spat.
his smirk didn't waver. "say the word, princess."
your whole body burned.
you wanted to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face, to shove him away, to yell at him until you couldn’t. but you also wanted to have him bend you over in the kitchen right then and now.
you sucked in a sharp breath, shaking your head. "this is ridiculous." jay took another step forward, erasing the last bit of space between you. his chest nearly brushed yours, his scent clean, musky, and undeniably him—flooding your senses.
thank god, seojun was asleep.
you refused to back down. refused to be the first to move. you maintain eye contact, your eyes flickering to his lips occasionally making your breath stutter.
his voice dropped lower, rough around the edges. "tell me to stop."
you should.
but you didn't.
because deep down, you knew this had been building for years. every heated glance, every sharp-tongued remark, every little touch that lasted a second too long—it had all been leading to this very moment.
you liked pushing him.
you weren't stupid, you knew there was an age gap—and that's what was holding him back.
12 years.
you were 23, and jay was 35.
so what?
it wasn't like he was some old man. if anything, he was in his prime—successful, powerful, hot as fuck. he carried himself like a man who had already conquered the world and wasn't pressed about proving anything to anyone.
except, apparently, to you.
because you made him nervous.
you saw it. the way his jaw clenched whenever you got too close, the way his eyes lingered on your legs when you crossed them or how they glanced down at your chest, the way he gripped his glass just a little tighter whenever you threw some bratty comment his way.
you knew he wanted you.
so why was he still fighting it? you knew the answer before you even asked yourself.
it was the age gap. he thought it was a big deal. he thought it mattered, and that pissed you off.
because to you, it wasn't about age. it was about power.
jay hated that he wanted you. hated that you weren't intimidated by him. hated that you saw right through his self-control. that you saw the way he stiffened when you brushed past him, saw the way his eyes darkened when you tested his patience.
you liked seeing him unravel.
he acted like he was above it, like he was some mature, responsible man who didn't get affected by a girl like you.
but you knew better.
because every time you got too close, every time you laughed at his scolding—you could see his self control break.
jay's fingers brushed against your waist, testing his limits.
your breath stuttered.
his smirk widened, "what's wrong?" he murmured. "cat got your tongue?"
"noona? dad?"
jay immediately pulls back as if your touch suddenly burned him. he looks at you in shock, as if you had made the first move.
little seojun had woken up from his nap, now stumbling into the kitchen half asleep. he immediately makes his way to you when he sees you cornered into the kitchens counters. "noona, i'm hungry," he mumbles before he's reaching his arms out indicating that he wants you to pick him up. you swallow harshly, leaning down to carry him before you shoot jay a sharp glare.
"how'd you sleep, jun?" you ask the boy, rubbing his back as he slowly regains his energy.
jay watches the scene with a heavy heart, seeing you and seojun get along was endearing. he never expected to see his son get close to another woman this way, let alone you—not after his wife.
"good. what were you and dad doing?"
you immediately whip your head around to stare at jay who looked equally as shocked.
"uhm."
"i was just helping, __ with her uh...hair. it got stuck in her necklace," jay fibbed, nervous that his son would catch onto his lies. he mentally curses himself for making his son so smart.
seojun just nods, still half asleep. "__, hair is long. pretty."
you smile down at seojun who has his head leaned against your chest. it was a rare occurrence that the little boy wasn't on your ass and teasing you, so you basked in his innocent silence.
"well, i'll be going now," jay coughs out lamely, turning around and walking out of the kitchen.
you roll your eyes, "what does junnie want to eat?"
"grilled cheese!"
"grilled cheese it is."
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
the day had been long and draining, filled with the usual chaos of babysitting seojun.
"noona, you burnt this side."
"the waters too cold, you're going to turn me into a popsicle!"
"it's a shame that you're not improving on your lego skills."
you had spent most of your day absorbed in your own thoughts, determined to keep your distance from jay's constant, prickly presence. you didn't know what was going between the two of you, but the constant teasing and proximity was starting to affect you—and you did not like that. but nothing could have prepared you for the moment when you saw his car pull into the driveway again.
it was late in the afternoon, your mind occupied with tidying up the living room after seojun's afternoon nap when you heard footsteps approaching. you looked up just in time to see jay step through the front door—this time, accompanied by a woman whose presence sent an unfamiliar twist of jealousy and confusion through your chest.
she was striking: tall, elegantly dressed, her dark hair falling perfectly around her shoulders. for a split second, your mind raced with possibilities. was she just a friend? a casual companion? or something more? the answer was not provided—jay made no attempt to introduce her with any clarity. he simply walked past you with a polite nod, the woman silently following at his side—not acknowledging your presence.
the bitter taste of jealousy swarmed you, she was exactly what you'd think jay would go for in a woman. beautiful and sophisticated.
you forced a neutral expression as you went about your tasks, though inside you seethed. you couldn't help but notice the way jay's hand briefly brushed against hers, the soft laughter they exchanged in the hallway, as if they shared an intimacy that you weren't meant to be a part of. every detail stung, and you kept your face impassive, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you riled up.
the rest of the night passed in a haze of quiet tension. seojun remained asleep in his room, unaware of the storm brewing between you and jay. you moved through your duties with mechanical efficiency, silently cursing the timing of his unexpected guest. every time you caught a glimpse of jay glancing in her direction or sharing a private smile, a bitter mixture of jealousy and humiliation washed over you. you had no idea why you felt this way—jay was never yours, and you were only here to babysit his son. yet, every little detail of that moment lingered painfully in your mind.
you wondered if the woman was seojun's mother, they shared a resemblance of some kind. jay had never mentioned seojun's mother before, and you had never asked. all you knew was jay was a single parent and the mother of his child was simply not in the picture.
unable to bear the emotional turmoil, you decided to leave earlier than usual. you slipped out of the house quietly, leaving a brief note on the counter that simply read, "i'm done for today." the cool night air hit your face as you got into the car, your driver picking you up.
the next morning, you arrived at jay's house for your babysitting shift, your mood still dark and distant. as usual, jay greeted you at the door with his characteristic calm, yet something in his eyes held a note of confusion. "good morning, __," he said, his tone neutral. "i'm glad you're here."
oh, are you now?
you gave a curt nod and stepped inside without making eye contact. throughout the day, you kept your responses short and your distance intentional. jay tried several times to spark small talk, commenting on seojun's behavior, asking how your night was—but you offered nothing more than a hum and silent stubborn stares.
by late afternoon, the tension had grown almost unbearable. the usual spark that might have accompanied a playful banter was replaced by a wall of silence that left the air thick. finally, after seojun was settled in his room for a nap, jay approached you in the quiet of the kitchen.
the silence in the room was palpable as you stood there, hands on your hips, glaring at jay. his presence in the room felt overwhelming, his posture relaxed, but his eyes sharp, never leaving yours. you were getting under his skin, and you could feel it.
the problem was, you liked it.
"you've been so difficult all day," he muttered, his voice low, almost a growl. "what's your problem?"
you crossed your arms, taking an exaggerated step back, trying to assert some space between you and him. the way his eyes followed you made the hairs on your neck stand up, and you hated it. you hated the effect he had on you. you hated how badly you wanted him even though you knew you never could.
"my problem? you're the one being impossible! i didn't sign up for this. i'm not your babysitter," you snapped, fighting the urge to back down. "your son isn't even the issue. it's you."
actually, it's the woman you brought home yesterday.
he raised an eyebrow, a smug smirk forming on his lips. "me? you're the one acting like a spoiled brat. maybe you should learn some patience."
your fingers clenched at your sides. the way he spoke to you, like he was trying to control you, was beyond irritating. you took another step back, but jay didn't move. instead, he shifted, closing the distance between the two of you in one fluid motion, trapping you against the counter. his chest was a mere inch from yours, his presence suffocating. it humoured you that you two always ended up on the same position, jay closing in on you.
"i don't need a bratty attitude right now. i've had a long day, and the last thing i need is you making it worse," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but the edge to it sent a shiver down your spine.
"long day? you've been home all day! what's even the point of me being here if you're going to be up my ass," you hiss.
"__, enough," his tone low as he warned you.
your heart raced as you stared up at him. "what are you going to do about it, huh?" you shot back, not wanting to back down. you didn't know what it was about the situation. maybe it was the tension, how he made you feel when he was this close, or maybe it was just that damned smirk on his face.
jay's eyes darkened, a spark of something dangerous in them. "i think you need a reminder of who's in charge here."
your breath hitched, and you could feel the heat building between you, but you refused to give in. you had enough, you didn't need to deal with him. you pushed past him, walking toward the kitchen, only to feel a firm grip on your arm—strong, unyielding.
"don't walk away from me," jay growled, spinning you around to face him. you were so close now, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body.
his grip on your arm was firm and rough, but not rough enough to where it hurt. his knuckles turned white as he tries to hold himself back from pushing you against the nearest wall and have you at his mercy.
you glared up at him, your face flushed from the proximity and the argument, but you knew you weren't going to let him win. "you don't control me, jay," you said, trying to keep the defiance in your voice.
he smirked again, stepping closer so your arm was planted against his chest, forcing you to tilt your head just enough to meet his gaze. the air between you crackled with uncontrollable tension, keeping you on your toes for god knows how long. "you keep acting like this, and i'll make sure you know exactly who's in charge."
your breath caught. something shifted in the way he looked at you—a warning, a promise, a dare. the line between anger and attraction was blurring, and you weren't sure where one ended and the other began.
before you could respond, he stepped forward, backing you against the kitchen counter, again. his hand found the counter beside your hip, trapping you in place. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, his jaw tense.
"look at me," he said, voice low, almost a rasp. "if you want to keep pushing my buttons, go ahead. but i'll make sure you regret it."
your heart raced in your chest, your breath shallow, but you kept the same defiant expression. "you think you can scare me, jay?"
he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "i don't need to scare you, __. i just need to show you what happens when you push too far."
you stood there, rooted to the spot — your body trembling under the weight of his words, the unbreakable tension that had emerged between you two. his fingers brushed against your arm, and for a moment, you could feel the undeniable pull. the fight between you was reaching a breaking point, and you didn't know which way it would go.
but for the first time, you weren't sure if you wanted to fight anymore.
the tension was unbearable, and in the silence that followed, jay's hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. your body responded before your mind could—his lips brushed against yours in the smallest of touches, enough to send your pulse skyrocketing. he pulled back just as quickly, a dangerous smirk on his lips. "you're lucky i don't have time for this right now," he muttered, his tone sharp, but there was something else beneath it—a flicker of something more intense. "but don't think for a second this is over."
with that, he stepped back, giving you space to breathe again. you were left standing there, caught between fury and something else you couldn't quite name. your heart was racing, your mind spinning, but you refused to let him see how much he affected you. you turned away, trying to steady your breath, but the tension between you two was getting overbearing. it wasn't over. you both knew that.
but one thing was for sure—you were both playing a dangerous game. and neither of you was ready to stop.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
the kitchen was quiet, the only sound being the slow, rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall. you leaned your head against your hand, staring off into space and you rethink all of your life decisions.
you had spent more time at jay's home than your own for the last month—not that you minded. as much as you hated to admit, seojun had grown on you. what you hated was how you didn't get to enjoy your summer how you originally wished, with your friends—getting drunk and high, maybe dosing on random shit at some frat party.
minho had been blowing up your phone for the last few weeks, asking, no—begging to hang out.
"__, why have you left me?" he groaned dramatically into your ear when you finally picked up his calls.
you rolled your eyes, "i told you i was going to be trapped, but no, you didn't want to take me seriously."
"i didn't think that you'd have any days off. can you ask for one day off, please? i miss my best friend," he pleas. if you could see him right now, he'd most definitely be flashing puppy dog eyes at you.
you sighed, "fine, i'll try to ask jay. but if he says no and i get scolded, i swear to god.” you'd ask jay if you could have the weekend off when he got back home.
you sat perched on one of the barstools, one knee drawn up, the other foot lazily swinging. your fingers traced the rim of a glass of water you hadn't even taken a sip from. seojun had gone to bed over an hour ago, his tiny body curled up under his blankets, blissfully unaware that his father still wasn't home.
you, on the other hand, were all too aware.
your phone sat face-up on the counter beside you, dark and undisturbed. no messages. no missed calls. nothing.
jay was late. really late.
your brows knitted together in irritation. you weren't sure why you cared so much—it wasn't your problem if he wanted to stay out all night. you weren't his wife, his girlfriend, or even someone he owed an explanation to. you were just the babysitter, forced into the role by your father's guilt. but something about his absence, about the way he hadn't even bothered to check in, made irritation simmer beneath your skin.
your knee bounced impatiently as you stared at the front door, waiting.
then, finally—the sound of keys jingling.
the door swung open, and jay stepped inside, looking unfairly put together for someone who had clearly spent the night out. his dark button-up was slightly unbuttoned at the top, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal his forearms. his black dress pants hung low on his hips, and his hair—slightly tousled like he'd run his fingers through it. he looked so good it made your stomach twist in frustration.
he barely even looked at you at first. instead, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he kicked off his shoes. it was only when he turned toward the kitchen that his eyes finally met yours.
he slowed to a stop.
you pretended not to notice the way his gaze flickered down, the momentary pause as his eyes dragged over your frame. you were only wearing a thin tank top and an old pair of shorts—the kind you only ever wore to bed, soft and barely covering your thighs. but the way jay's eyes darkened for just a split second, the way his jaw tensed, told you everything you needed to know.
he was flustered.
good.
he covered it quickly, masking whatever flicker of thoughts had just crossed his mind with that insufferable smirk of his.
"you're still up?" he asked, his voice as smooth as ever.
you rolled your eyes, shifting in your seat just enough to make the hem of your shorts ride up slightly. "obviously."
jay's gaze flickered downward again, just for a second. you caught it, and your lips twitched. "what, were you waiting for me?"
you scoffed, tilting your head. "don't flatter yourself. but since i'm responsible for your kid while you're off doing god knows what, yeah, i was expecting you to come home at a reasonable hour." jay exhaled sharply, finally stepping fully into the kitchen. he walked past you to the fridge, and you didn't miss the way his shoulders squared slightly—like he was trying to shake off whatever thoughts had just plagued his mind.
"seojun was fine, wasn't he?" he asked, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting the cap off.
"that's not the point," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. "the least you could do is let me know when you're coming home late. or is common courtesy too much to ask from a man like you?"
"plus, what's this sudden trust coming from? just a week ago you talked about how you had to monitor me because you didn't trust me to take care of seojun." jay let out a low chuckle, taking a slow sip of water before leaning back against the counter.
"jesus, you're dramatic," he muttered, shaking his head. "were you worried about me?" completely ignoring the other things you had said.
you clenched your jaw. "no," you lied smoothly. "i just don't appreciate being left in the dark. i'm not some live-in nanny, jay. if i'm stuck here, i at least deserve to know when you're coming home. look at the time, it's 1am, what time do i even go home?” his tongue ran over his bottom lip as he tilted his head slightly. "you're acting like i abandoned you here with seojun."
"you might as well have."
jay exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed now. "you really don't let shit go, do you?" you smiled sweetly. "not when it's my time being wasted."
he shook his head, muttering something under his breath. then, after a beat, he glanced back up at you, his gaze sharp and unreadable."or maybe," he said, voice slower, "this isn't about me coming home late at all."
your stomach twisted, but you refused to let your expression falter. jay took a step closer, arms crossing over his chest. "maybe this is about something else." you scoffed. "like what?" his lips twitched like he knew something you didn't. "like the other night," he murmured. your brows furrowed, but he didn't give you time to respond.
"you're mad about the woman i brought home." your body tensed before you could stop it, and that slight reaction was all jay needed to confirm his suspicions. his smirk widened.
"i don't care who you bring home," you said quickly, hoping he wouldn't call you out on how unconvincing you sounded. "mm," jay hummed, unconvinced. "so if i told you that woman was mi-na, my sister, you wouldn't feel stupid for being jealous?"
you blinked. the irritation in your chest fizzled out for a moment, replaced by confusion. "your—your sister?" jay's grin widened. "yeah. my little sister. the one who came to visit for the weekend." your face burned. you had spent the past two days brooding over nothing.
but you refused to let him win.
"whatever," you muttered, crossing your arms again—the action causing your tits to spill out of from the top. "i wasn't jealous." his eyes immediately zero in on your chest, swallowing harshly before he lets out a chuckle—stepping closer. you could feel the warmth of his body now, his scent lingering in the space between you. "yeah?" he murmured, voice dipping. "then why are you blushing?"
"i'm not."
jay reached out, his fingers grazing the hem of your shorts before ghosting over your hip. his touch was barely there, but it made your breath hitch, "you sure?"
your heart pounded. your skin tingled where his fingers had been. but you refused to back down. "you're insufferable," you gritted out. jay smirked, his fingers teasing along your hip before pulling away just as quickly. "and yet, you're still here."
"forced to be here," you mutter under your breath, but jay heard it. your body was on fire, your skin still warm from where he had touched you. but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction. "i hate you," you muttered, turning away. jay only chuckled, voice rich with amusement. "whatever you say, princess."
you rolled your eyes at him, getting off of the barstool as you make your way to the living room to grab your belongings and change out of your clothes—preparing to go home. "wait. stay the night, it's late," he says coolly, his eyes racking down your frame as you bend down to grab your things.
your shorts had bunched over your ass, your legs on full display to his hungry eyes. jay mentally slaps himself for his gaze, but it continues to linger. you scoff, "and who's fault is that?" jay sighs, his brows furrowing, "quit being a brat. i'll get a room set up for you," and with that he walks away—setting his decision into stone.
as much as you wanted to argue, to remind him that you had your own place to go back to. jay had already walked off, leaving no room for discussion. "asshole," you muttered under your breath, but you still set your bag down on the couch with an annoyed sigh.
jay's house was big—too big for just him and seojun. it had that cold, modern look, with spotless marble floors and sleek furniture, the kind that felt more like a showroom than a home. you doubted he spent much time here outside of work and parenting, and somehow, that made it worse.
you waited a few minutes before deciding to move, begrudgingly heading toward the guest room he'd set up for you. it was next to his, with seojun just down the hall. as you stepped inside, you had to admit—he at least had good taste. the bed was huge, covered in soft gray sheets, and the room smelled faintly of clean linen.
but there was one problem.
the pillows sucked. they were flat and thin, one would think that someone as rich as jay had good quality pillows. with a dramatic huff, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling before finally giving in to your annoyance. you deserved at least one decent pillow if you were being forced to stay here. without much thought, you swung your legs off the bed and padded down the hall toward jay's room. the door was slightly ajar, and you didn't bother knocking—if he was going to boss you around all night, you had no problem returning the favor.
"hey, do you have—"
you stopped dead in your tracks, mouth suddenly dry.
jay was standing near his dresser, shirtless, his toned back facing you as he ruffled a towel through his damp hair. he must have just taken a shower because his skin still glistened slightly, water droplets trailing down the sharp lines of his shoulders and back. your eyes dipped lower, taking in the way his sweatpants hung low on his hips, revealing just enough of the defined v-line that disappeared beneath the waistband. you should've looked away. you should've turned around and walked out like you hadn't just shamelessly checked him out.
but you didn't.
instead, you stood there, gripping the doorframe a little too hard as heat crept up your neck. jay finally noticed your presence, turning slightly to glance over his shoulder. his dark eyes flickered with amusement as he caught the way you quickly averted your gaze.
"something you need?" his voice was deeper, rougher, probably from exhaustion, but it still sent an embarrassing shiver down your spine. you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. "i need another pillow." his lips twitched, and you hated the way his smirk made your stomach flip. "you barged into my room for a pillow?"
"it's not my fault the ones in the guest room suck," you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest. jay turned fully now, walking toward you with that lazy confidence that always managed to get under your skin. you took an instinctive step back, but he reached the doorway before you could fully escape, his tall frame now blocking your path.
"you always this demanding, or do you just save it for me?" he mused, tilting his head slightly as his eyes dragged over your face, down to the curve of your throat, lingering there a second too long. your breath caught, but you refused to let him have the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. "i wouldn't have to demand anything if you had done it right the first time."
jay let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "always got an attitude." you were about to snap back when you noticed his gaze flicker downward, his smirk faltering for just a second. it was quick, barely noticeable, but you caught it—the way his eyes lingered on your tank top. his eyes zeroed in on your chest, you had taken off your bra when you got into the room—your nipples poking out of the thin fabric.
you raised an eyebrow, a slow smirk tugging at your lips now. "something wrong?" jay's jaw ticked, and just like that, his expression was back to that unreadable mask. "go to bed, __." you should've listened. you should've taken the damn pillow he handed you and walked out. but the way his voice had dropped an octave, the way his fingers had brushed against yours when he passed it to you, sent a thrill through you that you weren't ready to let go of just yet.
so instead, you lingered.
"why? am i making you nervous?" you teased, tilting your head up at him, watching for any crack in his composure. jay let out a low breath, his hand gripping the doorframe as he leaned in just slightly. "trust me," he murmured, his voice low and dangerous, "if you were making me nervous, you'd know." the air between you was heavy, thick with something unspoken, something that neither of you were willing to address just yet.
but it was there. and it wasn't going anywhere.
jay finally took a step back, running a hand through his still-damp hair before nodding toward the hall. "go to bed, __." this time, you listened. but as you walked back to your room, pillow in hand, you couldn't ignore the way your skin still burned from his gaze. and from the way he had looked at you, you knew you weren't the only one feeling it.
it was just a matter of time before one of your cracked.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
the sizzle of bacon filled the kitchen as you flipped another pancake onto the growing stack. you had seriously improved on your cooking skills in the last month you had been taking care of seojun. the pancakes were round, crispy and the perfect shade of golden brown.
the morning light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a golden glow over the countertops. you had woken up early, deciding to make seojun's favorite breakfast before he got up.
but, apparently, you weren't the only one awake.
a warm presence appeared behind you, and before you could react, a large hand reached out toward the plate. without looking, you smacked it away. "ow," jay muttered, shaking his hand. "what the hell?"
"it's for seojun." you barely spared him a glance as you poured more pancake batter into the pan. jay let out a low, sleepy sigh, ruffling his already messy hair. his dark strands fell over his forehead, making him look effortlessly good despite just rolling out of bed. dressed in sweatpants and a fitted t-shirt, he leaned against the counter, watching you with a lazy gaze.
curse him for looking so good.
"so i don't get breakfast?" he asked, a small pout gracing his face.
"nope," you said simply, reaching for another egg. he scoffed, pushing off the counter to stand beside you, crowding your space. "wow. what kind of babysitter are you? neglecting the person who actually pays you." you rolled your eyes. "oh, please. you don't pay me."
"you live in my house, eat my food, use my water." his voice was dripping with smugness. "sounds like payment to me." you narrowed your eyes at him. "your house? last i checked, my dad is the reason you even have half your company's assets."
jay just smirked, watching the way your brows furrowed in irritation. he loved getting under your skin. before you could throw another insult his way, you decided to change the subject. "anyway, i wanted to ask if i could have the weekend off. i wanna go out with my friends." jay, who had just taken a sip of his coffee, barely reacted. "fine."
you blinked. that was easy. too easy.
"minho's driving, so i don't have to worry about taking my car, that means no chance for accident. he's a pretty good driver, i actually learned how to drive from him," you added casually, turning back to the stove. jay froze. the silence was thick enough to make you glance over your shoulder. his expression had darkened. his grip on his coffee mug tightened.
"he?"
you frowned. "yeah. minho. my friend." jay set his mug down slowly, the sound of ceramic meeting marble eerily sharp. "no."
you turned fully to face him. "no?"
jay leaned against the counter, his posture too relaxed, too controlled. but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. "you're not going."
your brows shot up. "why not?" jay took another sip of his coffee, completely unfazed. "i need you here."
you scoffed. "for what?"
"seojun likes having you around."
"seojun will be fine for one weekend,” you retorted. jay tilted his head, pretending to think. "hmm. no, i don't think so."
you let out an exasperated laugh. "you literally just said i could go." jay shrugged. "i changed my mind."
"bullshit," you snapped. jay's eyes flickered with something dangerous. "watch your mouth."
you rolled your eyes. "you're just mad because minho is a guy." jay didn't react at first. then, slowly, he placed his coffee cup down and took a step closer to you.
got him.
you refused to back away. "you don't know what you're talking about," he said, voice low, controlled. "don't i?" you shot back, all of sudden feeling smug. "it's not my fault you can't stand the idea of me spending time with another man."
jay's jaw ticked. "this isn't about me." you let out a humorless laugh. "sure it isn't." he stepped even closer, forcing you to tilt your head up to meet his gaze. the space between you was nonexistent, his body radiating heat.
"you think i care that much?" his voice was nearly a whisper now, but there was an edge to it. "you think i'm losing sleep over who you spend your time with?" you smirked. "seems like it."
you were right.
jay's fingers curled into fists at his sides. you could feel the restrained tension rolling off of him in waves. "you're not going," he said again, this time firmer. you crossed your arms. "and what if i do?"
jay exhaled through his nose, his patience running thin. "you won't," he said simply, his confidence making your skin prickle with irritation. "watch me," you challenged. jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk but wasn't amusement either. "you really wanna test me right now?" the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to show weakness.
"maybe i do," you whispered. jay's gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before he clenched his jaw and stepped back, running a hand through his hair. "fine," he muttered, grabbing his coffee. "do whatever the hell you want."
you frowned. that was... unexpected.
he turned on his heel and walked toward the living room. but then, just as he reached the doorway, he glanced over his shoulder. "but don't come crawling back when you realize no one else can handle you like i do."
and with that, he disappeared down the hall, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, fists clenched.
jay cursed at himself for wearing his feels on his sleeve. it felt wrong for him to feel the way he did about you. jay hated thinking about the numbers.
12 years. he was 12 years older than you. it shouldn't have mattered.
right?
jay had spent his whole life doing whatever the hell he wanted, without a single care for what people thought. he made decisions with confidence, stood by them, and never looked back. but with you? you made him hesitate.
you were 23. young, reckless, still figuring out life. and jay? he was 35, a father, a man who had seen and done everything—a man who should have known better. but fuck, he didn't feel old when he was around you.
you were a problem. not because you were immature. no, that wasn't it. you were sharp, stubborn as hell, constantly challenging him, constantly making him feel like he was the one being tested. but that was the problem.
you weren't a little girl with naive ideas about love and life. you were a grown woman, a dangerous woman, who looked at him like he was something worth teasing, something worth playing with.
and he let you. god, he let you.
you tested his patience like no one else. you talked back, you got under his skin, you pushed him to his limit. you walked around his house like you belonged there, like you belonged to him. in those tiny shorts and tight tops, throwing him looks you knew would drive him up the wall.
it wasn't just the way you looked. it was the way you knew. you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and jay hated himself for liking it. because he shouldn't want you.
he shouldn't want you the way he did—shouldn't think about you at night. he shouldn't imagine what it would be like to take what you clearly wanted to give him. he told himself, over and over, that it was just a stupid attraction. that it was nothing more than an itch he could ignore. he had to hold himself back from giving into your temptations every time he had you cornered, telling himself that it was wrong.
but his restraint was starting to fall weak.
but then you'd bite your lip and roll your eyes at him. or you'd throw some snarky remark his way, just to get a reaction. or worse—you'd act like he wasn't a threat at all, like he was just some older guy who didn't intimidate you in the slightest.
it fucking killed him. because the truth was, the age gap only mattered when it worked against him. when it made him hesitate. when it made him question himself.
but when you smiled at him like that—when you pushed his buttons and made him feel like a man, not a father, not a boss, not some guy who should be acting his age.
he didn't give a fuck about the numbers. and he surely didn't give a fuck about some boy who thought he could have you, when you belonged here—with him.
this wasn't over. not by a long shot.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
you had been looking forward to this all week.
a night out. no responsibilities. no bratty five-year-old testing your patience. no jay fucking park. the music was loud, the bass thrumming through your body as you nursed your drink. the club was packed, neon lights flickering against a sea of bodies, and for once, you could finally breathe.
"so," minho drawled, draping an arm over your shoulders, "you gonna tell me why you've been checking your phone like a girl waiting for a text from her sneaky link?" you rolled your eyes, shoving his arm off. "i have not been checking my phone."
minho gave you a knowing look, sipping his beer. "uh-huh. so you're just casually looking down at your bag every five minutes? right." you huffed, taking a sip of your cocktail instead of responding. but then, as if on cue, your phone buzzed again.
you peeked at the screen.
jay (23 missed calls).
you turned the phone face down. minho whistled. "jesus. who the hell is blowing you up like that?"
"no one important," you muttered. minho smirked. "sure. that's why you look like you're about to throw your phone across the club."
"it's just—" you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "it's jay. he thinks he owns my time." minho raised an eyebrow. "the rich, single-dad jay?"
"the asshole jay," you corrected.
"so why don't you answer?"
"because i'm off tonight," you said, exasperated. "and whatever he wants can wait." minho chuckled. "damn. he must be real desperate if he's calling you this much."
you were about to brush it off, but then another buzz. you groaned. "i swear to god, if this man does not—"
but then you read the message.
jay: seojun has a fever. it's bad. he keeps asking for you.
your stomach dropped. "shit," you muttered, grabbing your bag.
"it's not for him," you said quickly. "it's for seojun." minho sighed, grabbing your wrist before you could dart off. "you really think this isn't a setup?"
you hesitated.
minho's voice softened. "look, i don't know this dude. but if he's calling this much, and now suddenly the kid is sick on the one night you're not there? sounds sketchy as hell."
"minho," you sighed. "i don't have time for this." minho raised his hands in surrender. "fine, fine. but if he's lying, you owe me a drink."
"deal." you had practically sprinted out of the club, gotten into a cab, and rushed over in record time.
when you got to jay's house, you were pissed. the second you stepped inside, you knew something was off. the house was dimly lit, silent. too silent. you stormed down the hall toward seojun's room, but before you could even reach for the door the sound of clapping stops you.
slow, deliberate claps echoed behind you. you turned, and there he was. jay park, leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, wearing a smirk that made your blood boil. "look who finally decided to show up."
your heart was still racing, the adrenaline from the panic you felt for seojun's health still surging through your veins. but now, it wasn't panic—it was anger. "what the hell is wrong with you?" his voice was low, rough, his grip firm around your wrist as he yanked you away from seojun's room and into his own—slamming the door shut behind you.
your heart pounded, still catching up to everything. rushing out of the party, speeding over here, the sickening worry that had settled in your gut the moment you saw his message about seojun. but now, standing here, looking at him, you soon realized. seojun wasn't sick.
the house was quiet, the lights dim. you peeked past jay, your brows furrowing. "where's seojun?"
"asleep," he said, his tone maddeningly casual. your eyes snapped back to his. "what?" jay didn't let go of your wrist, his grip tightening just slightly as he stepped closer. "he's asleep," he repeated, slower this time, like he was spelling it out for you.
the realization hit, sharp and cold. "you lied to me?" his jaw clenched. "what was i supposed to do, huh?" you yanked your arm back, glaring. "i don't know, maybe not fucking manipulate me?"
jay's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smirk, but held just enough arrogance to make you want to slap it off his face. "and if i didn't? you would've stayed out all night with him?" you exhaled sharply through your nose, shaking your head. "are you serious?" jay stepped forward, closing the space between you in an instant. your breath caught when your back hit the wall, his body mere inches from yours.
"tell me," he murmured, voice lower now, softer—but no less dangerous. "did he touch you?" your stomach flipped, heat rushing up your spine. "minho is my friend," you gritted out.
jay's hand lifted, fingers brushing against your chin. "did he touch you?" he asks again, his tone threatening. you turned your head away, jaw clenching. "you're insane." his fingers caught your chin, gently but firmly turning your face back to his. "i don't like repeating myself, sweetheart."
the pet name sent something electric through your veins. you hated that it did. "and i don't like being controlled," you shot back, voice sharp.
jay let out a quiet chuckle, dark and humorless. "funny, because you sure came running when i told you to." your face burned. you hated that he was right. his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, almost absentmindedly, like he was testing something. his eyes flickered down for a fraction of a second, then back up. you hated that even now, with how pissed you were, your body still reacted to him. the way he carried himself, the way he looked at you, the way his voice dipped just low enough to make your stomach flip. you shook your head, trying to push past him, but jay grabbed your wrist, pulling you back.
"let me go," you snapped. "or what?" his grip didn't tighten, but he didn't let go either. "you gonna run back to him?"
your brows furrowed. "what?" jay exhaled a short, humorless laugh. "minho," he bit out, like the name itself annoyed him. "you think i don't know where you were? at the club. surrounded by men. men that would eat you alive if you gave them the chance."
you glared. "you don't get to be mad about that." his eyes darkened. "the hell i don't." you tugged your arm back, finally breaking free. "you're not my fucking boyfriend, jay. i don't owe you anything."
his jaw ticked, but he didn't say anything. you scoffed. "god, this is ridiculous. i'm leaving." before you could take another step, jay moved. one second you were standing there, and the next, your back was against the wall, jay towering over you, his hands planted beside your head.
"you're not going anywhere," he murmured. your breath hitched. "you ran the second you thought seojun needed you," he said, voice lower now, rougher. "but what about when i need you, huh?"
your chest tightened. "you—" jay leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours. "you think i don't see it?" your pulse pounded against your skin. "see what?" you respond, almost breathless. his hand lifted, fingers brushing over your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his, "how bad you want me."
your breath stuttered. "you can play your little games all you want, sweetheart," jay murmured. "but we both know where you belong."
"you belong here," he murmured. "not out there, playing games with some guy who doesn't even know what to do with you." your breath hitched. "and you do?" jay didn't answer immediately. he just looked at you—really looked at you. his hand moved, sliding down the side of your neck, fingers grazing over your pulse point, feeling the rapid beat beneath his touch.
then, he leaned in, voice barely above a whisper. "you have no idea."
your breath hitched. he was so close now, his cologne wrapping around you, his body heat pressing into yours. you swallowed hard. "you don't own me, jay."
his jaw ticked. "maybe not." his gaze dropped, trailing down your frame. you were still in your club outfit—tight dress, heels, your skin still warm from the alcohol. his tongue darted out, running over his bottom lip. "but you still came running, didn't you?"
your pulse pounded in your ears, attempting to move out of his hold only for him to pin you down with his hips. "you're not leaving," he murmured, voice dangerously low. you lifted your chin defiantly. "watch me."
jay exhaled a sharp laugh, shaking his head. "you're so fucking difficult."
"because i don't let you control me?" you shot back. he tilted his head. "because you pretend you don't like it."
your stomach flipped. jay leaned in, so close his breath ghosted over your cheek. "you want me to let you go?" he asked, his tone deceptively soft.
your throat bobbed. his fingers traced the inside of your wrist, featherlight, sending shivers up your arm. "say the word," he whispered. "say you don't like it when i tell you what to do."
your heart hammered against your ribs. but you didn't say anything.
because you didn't want to lie.
jay smirked. "thought so." his thumb brushed against your jaw, tilting your chin up. your lips were inches apart. you were still angry. furious. but that fury burned into something else, something hotter, something more dangerous. you should leave. you should shove him away.
but you didn't move. neither did he.
and in that moment, you both knew. you weren't going anywhere.
his eyes narrow down to your lips, something switches in his gaze—almost as if he had finally had enough.
"fuck this," he mutters lowkey before he's crashing his lips onto yours. your eyes widen in surprise, feeling his lips mold onto your own as you stand frozen in shock. you feel jay run his hands down your side, situating themselves on your ass as he squeezes your fleshy mounds. you gasp into his mouth, jay seizing the opportunity to push his tongue into your mouth.
you moan when you feel jay grip your bare ass, lifting your short dress up to your hips—your arms wrapping around his neck as you push yourself up against him. "you think you can go see other men while you spend your days with me and my son?" he says against your lips, his grip on you getting rougher as pushes your dress up higher. you groan against him, "minho is my—" you try to explain only for a sharp smack to interrupt you.
he had spanked you.
your mouth drops open in shock, "what the f—" jay's hauling you up, your legs now wrapped around his waist as he pushes you down on his painfully hard cock. "i don't care who he is. you're not to be alone with another man," he says gruffly, dropping you down onto his bed.
you're flat against his soft linen sheets, legs now spread apart roughly by jay who stares down at you with a dark glint in his eyes. you glare up at him, breathless. "you can't tell me what to do." jay scoffs, leaning over you, one hand gripping your thigh as he spreads you open further. "the hell i can't," he murmurs, voice low and rough. "you think you can act like a brat, push me to my limit, and then run off to another man?"
"it's not like that," you argue, voice shaking, but he just smirks, eyes flickering down to where your dress is bunched up around your waist. "doesn't matter," he says, dragging a rough hand up your thigh. "you're mine. do you understand that?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, which only makes jay angrier. he grips your chin, forcing you to look at him. "say it," he demands. "say you're mine."
you tilt your head defiantly. "make me." jay lets out a dark chuckle, his grip tightening. "oh, you don't want me to do that, sweetheart." he leans in, lips brushing against your ear. "because if i do, you won't be able to walk out of here, much less run to him."
"yeah right," you scoff, taking his threats lightly but your heart still stutters in your chest. his chest heaves up and down erratically, as if he was fighting himself from what he was about to do to you. his expression turning grim at his words yet his eyes sparking up in excitement. he finally had you where he wanted you, and not even god could pull him away.
he reaches to pull off his shirt, your mouth watering when you see his toned abdomen come into sight. jay took pride in his body, eating well and working out consistently to maintain himself throughout his years.
he grabs your hips roughly, a small squeal leaving your mouth when he drags you to the edge of the bed—your core connecting with his crotch. your legs wrap around his waist automatically while he kneels on the bed—looming over you. jay's hand grips your waist firmly as he stares down at you, his jaw tight with frustration. "you really don't listen, do you?"
you smirk up at him, still feeling defiant. "i listen just fine. i just don't take orders from you." his eyes darken at your words, and before you can react, his palm comes down sharply against your thigh. the sharp sting makes you yelp, your body jerking against the bed.
your mouth drops open in shock. "jay, what the—" another smack lands, this time on the curve of your ass, harder. your whole body tenses, the heat from his palm lingering. "you don't take orders from me?" jay scoffs, pushing your legs off of him before he's flipping you over and dragging you up so you're on your hands and knees—arching your back just the way he wants. "then why do you keep acting out just to get my attention?"
"i'm not—ah!" you gasp when another slap lands, harder than before, making your skin burn. jay leans over you, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "minho doesn't get to see you like this," he growls, his hand smoothing over the spot he just punished, before giving you another harsh slap.
smack!
smack!
smack!
your fingers clutch at the sheets as you let out a broken whimper. "you belong to me," he murmurs, his voice thick with possession. "and i'm going to make sure you never forget that." he looks down at the sight in front of him, just how he had always wanted you to end up. bent over for him, battling submission as he forces you into it. your behind was a bright red, your panties doing a poor job at hiding your soaked core.
"fuck," jay groans, his palm smoothing over the burning skin of your ass before landing another sharp slap. you jolt, gasping, but his grip on your waist keeps you from moving an inch. "such a fucking brat. but you love this, don't you?" you bite your lip, refusing to answer, but jay sees right through you. his fingers trail up your spine, sending shivers down your back. "you fight me, you push me, but at the end of the day—" he lands another slap, harder this time, making you cry out. "—you always end up right here."
his voice dips lower, rough with something dangerous. something raw. "you don't even realize what you do to me, do you?" he mutters, his lips brushing against your temple as he pulls you up against his chest. his breath is hot against your ear. "watching you play house with me and seojun. cooking breakfast, tucking him into bed, walking around my home like you belong here." his hands tighten on your hips, and you can feel how hard he is, pressing against you with no shame.
his lips graze your jaw. "you love it too, don't you?"
"jay—"
"shh." his grip slides up, fingers curling around your throat—not tight, just enough to remind you who's in control. "you act like you don't, but i see the way you are with him. how soft you get when you think no one's watching. how you look at me when i come home late and you're the first thing i see standing in my kitchen." he chuckles darkly, dragging his lips down your neck. "you play the role so fucking well, baby. the perfect little wife—except you're still a goddamn brat." his confession makes your breath hitch. you can feel it now, how deep this runs for him. how much he's wanted this—wanted you.
"you think i don't see the way you tease me?" jay murmurs against your skin, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear. "walking around my house in those tiny fucking shorts, looking at me with those defiant little eyes, making me chase after you like some desperate idiot." his hand lands sharp smack on your thigh, and you let out a whimper before you can stop yourself. jay groans, gripping your throat even tighter. "fuck, i love that sound. love every little thing about you."
his words send a thrill through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. "i love this, baby," he murmurs, voice thick with hunger. "love your bratty little mouth. love putting you in your place. love how you fight me just so i can take you apart like this." he kisses the corner of your mouth, his grip firm, unrelenting. "and you love it too, don't you?" your breath is shaky, but you refuse to give in so easily. "i hate you," you whisper, even as your body melts against his. jay chuckles, dark and knowing. "you hate how much you love this."
"you're delusional."
his hands roam lower, his lips finding yours in a heated, possessive kiss. you're drowning in him, in the fire between you. and as much as you want to fight it, you already know—jay park always gets what he wants. and right now, what he wants is you. he grips your arms, a small whine escaping your mouth when he manhandles them behind you. he pushes you back down, "oh, princess. you're going to eat your own words."
you feel something wrap around your wrists, your eyes widening when you realize what he was doing. he had taken off his belt, wrapping the leather material around your arms to stop you from moving around. everything happens so quick, your pushed flat against your back with jay now face to face with your throbbing core. his fingers dug into the plush of your thigh, holding them back from closing. "look at you," he coos softly, looking at giant wet patch on your panties as you squirm in shame.
"fuck you," you spit weakly. he smirks, "we'll get to that, princess. we have all night." you mewl when you feel him lick up your covered slit, his tongue tracing up your cunt as he digs into your thighs. you buck your hips up, jay's laughter making you stop your actions. "so fucking needy. you must be so used to getting what you want, hm? my spoiled bratty princess," he hums.
you huff, "do it." he raises his eyebrows in faux confusion, "do what?"
you rolls your eyes, "take them off and eat my pussy."
his smug expression drops at your bratty words, "seems like you haven't learned anything from earlier." you open your mouth to retort only for a sharp pain between your legs to stop you. you squeal out in surprise, jay landed another strong smack to your centre. "it's okay, by the end of this i'll have you begging and crying. then you'll finally behave yourself."
your body jolts at the sharp sting between your legs, a breathy gasp slipping past your lips before you can stop it. jay tilts his head, watching you with dark amusement, his hands never loosening their grip on your thighs. "there she is," he murmurs, fingers tracing slow, teasing circles along your skin. "i was starting to think you'd never stop running your mouth." your wrists pull against the restraint of his belt, but it's useless—he's tied you up too well. the frustration bubbles in your chest, mixing with the unbearable heat pooling in your stomach.
"you're such an ass," you hiss, glaring up at him. jay only smirks, completely unfazed. "and yet, you're still here. still dripping for me." his fingers ghost over the soaked fabric of your panties, pressing down just enough to make you whimper. you try to twist away from his touch, refusing to give him the satisfaction, but jay isn't having it. he grips your hips firmly, keeping you in place, his strength making it clear that resistance is pointless.
"you keep fighting me like you have a choice," he scoffs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. "but we both know how this ends, don't we, princess?" your breathing is ragged, your body betraying you as he drags his lips higher. your skin burns where he touches, and the worst part is—you want more. but you refuse to admit it.
"you're crazy," you bite out, even as your body shudders at his touch. jay chuckles, his breath hot against your core. "am i?" his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties, tugging them down at an agonizing pace. "because from where i'm sitting, you're the one desperate for me." the flimsy fabric landing on the floor as he situates himself right front of your leaking cunt. he pauses, eyes locking onto yours with a wicked glint. "and the best part? you know i'm right."
your lips part, a sharp retort on the tip of your tongue—but before you can say anything, jay moves, leaving you utterly speechless. his tongue comes down to run over your bare slit, moaning at the taste before he's yanking you down by your hips—nose buried into your cunt, you squeak at the sensation, his tongue gliding up at down your clenching hole as his nose nudges your clit with each movement.
"f-fuck, jay," you pant softly, your body writhing as you fight against his belt. jay grins against your pussy, his fingers digging into your thighs as he holds your legs back from completely suffocating him. his tongue moves slowly and skillfully, circling your clit before making its way down to your sopping hole.
he moans at your taste, not afraid of getting messy with his movements. he peers up, watching your head lull back as he begins to lick figure 8s on your clit repeatedly. your thighs tremble, your back arching off the bed as jay's tongue flicks over your swollen clit with torturous precision.
every swipe sends sparks shooting through your veins, your breath coming in ragged gasps. you tug uselessly against the belt binding your wrists, the leather only tightening the more you struggle. you whine at the almost painful sensation of being bound, his leather belt now digging into your wrists—slowly cutting of circulation. jay hums against your soaking cunt, the vibrations making you whimper. his grip on your thighs is ironclad, refusing to let you squirm away—not that you really wanted to.
you gasp when you feel his digits intrude your walls, a load moan escaping you before you could even hold yourself back. "fuck look at you, princess. you're sucking my fingers in so well," he groans, watching your cunt greedily take in his digits as he begins to roughly pound them in.
your mouth stays open in an 'o' shape as you move your hips in hopes of catching more of what he was offering. jay catches on to your movements, clicking his tongue as he looks at you smugly. "so desperate hm, princess? look at you, so fucking filthy." you whine at his words, "go fuck yours—" jay removes his fingers from your sopping cunt and smacks them down on your clit. "—oh fuck!" you sob out.
"you're going to learn to control that mouth, __. and here i was, being so gentle and kind with you. but clearly, bratty girls like you don't deserve such treatment," he tsks while teasingly rubbing your clit in small firm circles with his thumb. you scrounge your mind for an insult to throw at him before his actions take your breath.
literally.
jay moves quickly, suddenly his hand is wrapped around your throat and he's looking over your shaking and twitching body. he moves behind you, letting you lean against his strong chest as he spreads your thighs wide open—hooking his legs with your own, leaving you unable to squirm.
he clamps down his hand firmly between your legs, cupping your cunt as you look up at him dumbfounded.
he gives you no answer, looking down at you with what you could only assume was pure deep dark desire. you moan out in pain, the stretch of his fingers making your eyes rolls back as jay leaves you no time to adjust. his begins to fuck three of his fingers into your cunt, his grip on your throat tightening.
"who knew you took things in you so well, hm? look at you, gushing all over my fingers," he murmurs darkly into your ear. his pace was ruthless, his palm smacking your clit with each thrust. you're a moaning mess, crying out everytime jay pushes into your gummy walls. jay had enough of the noise, moving his hand from your neck to stuff two fingers down your throat—gagging you.
you choke against his digits, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes. your makeup was smeared, your mascara running down your cheeks and your lipstick smudged around your mouth—yet jay thought you looked beautiful. he could see tears run down your cheeks and saliva running down his fingers and you struggled to contain yourself. "you close, princess? i can feel you clenching around me," he grins, curling his fingers in you in a 'come here' motion.
"m'close," you try to say only for it to come out as muffled sobs due to his fingers down your throat. he smirks against your skin, "so fucking greedy. come on princess, cum for me. cum all over my fingers," he murmurs in your ear, your eyes rolling back as you feel your body violently convulse at your high. jay looks at you in surprise.
you had squirted.
"holy shit, princess." he removes his fingers from your mouth, finally letting your aching jaw rest—his thumb still rubbing at your clit, helping you ride out your high. "do you know what you just did?" he asks, his hands grabbing at your waist before hes pulling off your dress completely. you lay against him, unable to comprehend anything after you came. when you don't respond he continues, "you just squirted, princess. that's not going to waste."
he moves you away from his chest, letting you lay back against the bed before he's between your parted thighs again. he doesn't give you a chance to recover before his tongue is licking up your slit, his hands gripping the plush of your thighs—holding them back from closing in on his head. "you taste so fucking good," he growls, lifting his head just enough to watch your face twist in painful pleasure. "all that attitude, and here you are, shaking for me like a good little slut." you slowly regain your sense of thought, still hazy from before—but not enough to stop you from acting out.
you bite your lip, glaring down at him through hooded and now swollen eyes. "fuck—you," you pant, but your words lose all their venom when he dips his tongue back inside you, curling just right against that sweet spot that makes your toes curl. jay chuckles darkly, the sound sending another jolt of heat straight to your core. "still talking shit?" he pulls back, smirking at the way your hips chase his mouth. "maybe i should just leave you here, all tied up and desperate. let you think about how badly you need me."
your stomach clenches at the thought, but you force yourself to let out a weak scoff. "like you could walk away." jay's eyes darken, his fingers trailing up to circle your clit, pressing just enough to make you gasp. "try me."
you don't get the chance to respond. in one fluid motion, jay flips you onto your stomach. his weight pins you down, his hard clothed cock pressing into the curve of your ass.
"you don't get to call the shots here," he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "not until i say you've earned it." you whine as he grinds against you, the friction maddening. "jay—"
"what?" his hand tangles in your hair, yanking your head back. "use your words, princess. tell me what you want." you swallow hard, pride and desire warring inside you. but the way his fingers tighten in your hair, the way his cock pulses against your ass—it's too much.
"i want—fuck—i want you to fuck me," you finally admit, your voice shaking. "i'll fuck you when you stop being a brat and admit it."
you whine, shaking your head in defiance. you had made it this far without admitting your feelings, what's a bit longer?
"say it."
you shake your head furiously, breath shaky as you glare up at him. "no." jay clicks his tongue, his grip on your waist tightening. "wrong answer, princess." you whimper, body trembling, but you still refuse to give in. you won't let him win—not like this. jay leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "you're so fucking stubborn. but you'll say it. we both know you will." your fingers curl into the sheets, your pride the only thing keeping you from giving him what he wants.
"fuck you," you grit out.
jay only laughs, shaking his head. "not until you tell me the truth." you squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to look at him. you can't. not when he's so close, not when his voice drips with that dangerous confidence that makes your heart race. he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "look at me." you do, reluctantly, your body burning under the weight of his stare.
his eyes darken. "you love this. you love me." you inhale sharply. "i—"
"say it," he commands. "say you love me, or you don't get my cock." your pride wars with your need, but jay is relentless. he watches you like he already knows he's won. you try to hold out, but his smirk deepens as he pulls away slightly, putting even more distance between you. your chest rises and falls rapidly. you can't take it anymore.
"i—" you hesitate, jaw clenching. jay waits, patient but smug. you hate him for this. you hate him for making you want him so badly.
"i love you," you finally gasp out, the words falling from your lips like a confession you've been holding in for too long. jay exhales, his smirk turning into something deeper, something real. "that's my girl," he murmurs, pressing a slow, possessive kiss to your lips.
you barely have time to recover before he pulls back, eyes locking onto yours with a dark promise. "now," he breathes, "let me show you just how much i love you too." in one swift motion, he flips you back over, his hands sliding under your thighs to hook your legs over his shoulders. he leans down, his lips brushing yours, so close you can taste yourself on his tongue.
"good girls get what they want," he murmurs, his hands pulling down his boxers. and then he's pushing inside you in one sharp thrust, stretching you, filling you, stealing the breath from your lungs. your back arches off the bed, a broken moan tearing from your throat as jay bottoms out inside you, his grip bruising on your hips. you cry out in pain and pleasure, the stretch of his cock making you dizzy as your walls flutter around him—struggling to adjust.
"mine," he growls, his voice rough with possession. and as he starts to move, hard and deep, you realize—you always have been. the years of back and fourth bickering, dirty glares and snarky comments. all of that, had led to this moment.
jay's hips snap forward, each brutal thrust driving the air from your lungs. his cock is relentless, pistoning into your slick cunt with a rhythm that leaves no inch of you untouched. the slap of skin against skin echoes in the room, mingling with your desperate whimpers as he fucks you into the mattress. your bound hands twist against the belt, the leather biting into your wrists, but the burn only feeds the fire coursing through you. jay's fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs, his grip possessive, claiming—like he wants to leave bruises. like he wants you to remember this tomorrow when you try to walk away like you always do.
"f-fuck, jay—" his name spills from your lips, ragged and broken, as he drags his cock almost all the way out before slamming back in, the tip hitting that perfect spot deep inside that makes your vision blur. jay feels you clench around him, grunting as he fucks into you—making sure there was no inch of you that he hadn't touched.
one of his hands come down to grab at your tit, pinching your nipple almost painfully when you begin to close your eyes—making you whine. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a mockery of tenderness. "what, baby? gonna come already?" his voice is rough, dripping with amusement. "you're so fucking tight around me. bet you're close, aren't you?"
you squeeze around him involuntarily, your walls fluttering as pleasure coils tighter in your belly. you don't answer, you can't. he's angling his hips just right, grinding against that swollen spot inside you with every thrust—your orgasm is right there, hovering just out of reach. jay growls, sensing it, and suddenly his thumb is on your clit, rubbing tight little circles that make your whole body jerk.
"come on," he demands, his breath hot against your ear. "cum on my cock like the greedy little spoiled slut you are." you shatter. your back arches off the bed, a scream tearing from your throat as pleasure explodes through you, white-hot and consuming. your cunt clamps down around jay's cock, milking him as waves of ecstasy crash over you. he doesn't stop.
jay fucks you through it, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. his fingers dig harder into your hips, the pain of your high coursing through you. "gonna fill you up," he snarls, his voice thick with need. "gonna pump you so fucking full of me, you'll drip with it." the filthy promise sends another shiver through you, your oversensitive body trembling beneath his. and then he's burying himself deep, his cock twitching as he spills inside you with a groan, his hips grinding against yours to make sure every last drop is where it belongs.
you pant beneath him, boneless and wrecked, the only sound in the room the ragged pull of your breaths. jay finally pulls out, his cum already leaking from your well-used cunt. he leans down, his lips brushing yours in a slow, filthy kiss. "now," he murmurs, his thumb swiping through the mess between your thighs before pushing it past your lips, "tell me again how you feel about me."
you suck his thumb clean, your eyes locked with his. and this time, you don't bother lying.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
you wake up to the warm morning light slipping past the curtains, painting soft lines across jay's sheets. your body aches, sore in places you didn't even know could ache. your throat dry from the sounds he pulled out of you the night before.
you blink slowly, adjusting to the light. the bed is cold beside you. jay is gone. you groan softly as you shift, the soreness between your thighs making it nearly impossible to move without wincing. "jesus christ," you mutter under your breath, rolling onto your side. your fingers instinctively brush the soft cotton clinging to your skin. it's a plain white t-shirt, oversized and hanging low on your frame. his scent clings to it, to you.
your legs dangle over the side of the bed, and you wince as you slowly stand. every step is careful, every movement a reminder of what he did to you—what you let him do. you spot your phone on the nightstand and grab it with shaky fingers. it lights up immediately.
minho (12 missed calls)
dad (8 messages)
dad (4 missed calls)
you sigh, heart sinking a little. it all comes rushing back—what you left behind last night. the party. the lie. jay's anger. and now... the aftermath. you pull your hair up loosely and make your way downstairs, your bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. the house is eerily quiet. no tv, no kitchen sounds, no jay.
your heart sinks in your chest. your eyes dart around as you descend down the flight of stairs—no trace of him. the living room is spotless, the kitchen untouched. not even a half-drunk cup of coffee left behind.
your heart skips for a second.
did he leave?
you glance toward the hallway and peek your head into seojun's room. the little boy is still curled up under his blankets, breathing soft and steady. safe. peaceful. you step back out and stand in the middle of the quiet house, unsure of what to do with yourself. "where the hell did you go, jay..." you mutter, fingers tightening around your phone.
your thumb hovers over minho's name, but you can't bring yourself to call him. not yet. not when your body still carries evidence of last night. not when you still smell like jay. the silence around you is loud—too loud. and the way your mind spins with questions only makes it worse.
what did last night mean?
why did he leave you alone like this?
is he even coming back?
you let out a soft sigh and head toward the kitchen, aimlessly grabbing a glass of water just to keep your hands busy. your reflection catches in the oven door—jay's shirt draped over your frame, legs bare, lips still a little swollen. you noticed that your face was clean and bare, jay had taken off your makeup last night.
well, whatever was left of it.
you look like you belong here. but for the first time. you're not sure if that's a good thing.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
the sound of the front door unlocking makes you flinch slightly as you're crouched down in the living room, gathering all of seojun's toys. jay walks in like he didn't flip your world upside down last night.
"hey," he says casually, shrugging off his coat and kicking off his shoes. his voice is easy—too easy. like nothing happened. like he didn't press every button you had until you broke, until you confessed things you'd been biting your tongue about for weeks. "morning," you mutter without looking up, trying to keep your expression neutral as you tug the lid of his toy basket open.
jay steps into the living room, eyes glancing over the scene— the living room now spotless as you sit on the floor with your legs folded awkwardly under you like you hadn't spent the entire night being ruined by the man. the same man who was now acting like your confession wasn't still echoing in his ears. your phone buzzes again beside you on the couch. minho's name flashes across the screen for the sixth time that morning. you finally texted him.
minho: hey u get there ok?
minho: heeelllloooo
minho: istg if ur getting dicked down rn
minho: U SO R
minho: OMGGG
minho: u slut
minho: call me after or ill acc burn ur house down
minho: u so owe me a drink
you: i'll call u later ..
minho: U BETTERR
your dad had also called twice. he was worried, demanding to know where you'd disappeared last night. you told him the lie you'd practiced in your head: i stayed over at minho's. i'm at work now.
jay gives you a glance then, brief and unreadable. "he still asleep?" he asks, nodding toward the stairs. you nod once, "should be up soon."
jay hums. he runs a hand through his hair, moving past you both to grab a bottle of water from the fridge. no acknowledgment. not of your night together. not of your confessions. not even the smallest smirk or sly comment he's usually so quick to throw your way. it stings more than you thought it would.
"so this is just nothing?" you say quietly. you keep your voice low, tense. "you're really going to pretend nothing happened?" jay doesn't turn around. he twists the cap off the bottle, takes a sip. "didn't say that."
"then what are you doing?" you snap, standing. you're still in his clothes—his t-shirt drowning your frame and his sweatpants tied loose around your waist. "you spent all night dragging it out of me. making me say things i wasn't ready to admit, and now what? you ignore me?" jay finally turns, his jaw set, expression unreadable. "what did you expect?" he says flatly. "you think we can just pretend like that shit doesn't complicate everything?"
you blink, stung. "you complicated it. not me. you crossed the boundaries. not me." he takes a step toward you. "you think i didn't feel it too?" he snaps. "you think this is easy for me?"
"you sure act like it is." jay's breathing hard now, his eyes dark as they search your face. "i'm trying not to make things worse. you said what you said, and yeah, i heard you. but i don't know what the hell to do with it yet. it's not like i didn't tell you how i felt."
your throat feels tight, heart racing with hurt and frustration. "then maybe you shouldn't have forced it out of me." he doesn't respond right away. just stares, like he's trying to figure out whether to argue or admit you're right. you glance away, swallowing hard. "i meant what i said," you whisper, "and i hate that i did."
jay steps closer then, enough that you can feel the heat from his body. he's silent, watching you, torn between his own emotions. "...i didn't hate hearing it," he finally says, voice lower, softer. "but i can't pretend i know what to do with it either." you don't say anything, just cross your arms tighter over your chest.
it's quiet for a long moment. then jay murmurs, "but if it means anything... i don't want you with anyone else." your gaze snaps to his. "last night wasn't just sex," he says, voice rough. "and you damn well know it." you swallow around the lump in your throat, arms still crossed tight like it'll protect you from how exposed you feel. like it'll keep your heart from beating too loud.
"so... what now?" you ask, your voice quieter than before. more hesitant. "what are we supposed to do?" jay's eyes drop, his thumb tapping against the water bottle in his hand. he looks like he wants to pace but forces himself to stay still. "i don't know," he admits. "i've been trying to figure that out since last night."
you frown. "what's stopping you?" he exhales sharply. "everything. you're 23, i'm 35. your dad would kill me if he knew what happened last night." he glances up at you. "you were just a kid when i met you."
you flinch at that. "i'm not a kid now." "i know," he says quickly, his jaw clenching. "believe me, i know. last night proved that more than anything." you look away, chewing the inside of your cheek. "you think this is just a phase? that i'll grow out of it?" jay steps closer, his voice low. "no. i think that's what scares me the most."
you meet his gaze again, your heart thudding. "...was it ever just me?" you ask, needing to know, needing to hear it. "or am i just filling a space someone else left behind?" his expression hardens slightly, like the question caught him off guard.
"is this about her?" you push, barely whispering. "seojun's mom?" jay's face shifts, something bitter and tired flashing through his features. he looks away, jaw tight. "she left the second he was born." your eyes widen in shock, "what?"
"she didn't want to be a mom," he says flatly. "we were never in love. it was a mistake. she got pregnant, and i told her i'd raise him. she agreed and walked out of the hospital with a suitcase and a plane ticket." you stare at him, stunned. he's never talked about her. never even hinted.
"so it's just been you," you murmur. he nods. "just me. for the last 5 years." you don't know what to say. you feel your chest ache for him—for the boy upstairs, for the man who's been carrying the weight of parenthood alone, pretending like it never crushed him.
"and then you," he says, voice quieter now. "you crash into my life, literally. and then suddenly you're here, and seojun loves you, and i—" he cuts himself off. you blink. "and you...?"
his eyes lock with yours, expression unreadable as he forces himself to swallow his words, "—and i don't know how to let myself want something that feels like it'll ruin everything." you step forward this time, closing the space between you. "what if it doesn't?" jay looks at you like he wants to believe it. like the hope hurts more than the fear. you reach up slowly, resting your hand against his chest. his heart's pounding under your palm. "you don't have to protect me from this," you whisper. "just... tell me what you want."
he looks at you, his voice hoarse. "i want you." you feel it in the way he says it—like it's been sitting on his tongue for days, weeks, maybe years. like it's the one thing he's been trying not to say. your breath catches. "then why are you acting like last night never happened?"
jay exhales, finally turning away from you—unable to look you in the eye. he runs a hand through his hair and mutters, "because i don't know how to be around you without wanting more." you bite the inside of your cheek, heart pounding. "you think i don't want more too?" his back is still to you, shoulders tense. "you don't understand what more looks like with me. it's not just cute dates and taking seojun to the park. it's complicated. it's messy."
you step toward him, slowly. "i'm not scared of messy." he finally turns around, eyes meeting yours again—and this time, it's all there. the frustration. the want. the guilt. the hunger. "i forced you to say it last night," he says quietly. "i made you admit you loved me just so i could hear it. do you know how fucked up that is?"
your chest tightens. "maybe. but it doesn't make it a lie." jay doesn't say anything. his eyes just search your face like he's trying to make sense of you. the silence stretches, so loud it feels like it might shatter between you when suddenly— "daddy? noona?" a sleepy voice calls from the stairs.
you both snap your heads toward the sound. seojun stands there in his pajamas, hair sticking up in every direction, clutching his stuffed lion. jay's face softens instantly. "hey, buddy."
you blink away the emotions clogging your throat, quickly moving toward the stairs. "come on," you say gently, crouching down to his level. "you want breakfast?"
he nods, rubbing his eyes. "pancakes." you laugh softly. "you always want pancakes."
as you lead him into the kitchen, you feel jay's eyes on you the whole time. there's so much unsaid between you both, but right now, you fall into routine—mixing batter, pouring it onto the hot pan, seojun sitting on the counter watching you with half-lidded eyes. it looked like a scene out of a movie, jay admires your relationship with his son based one the circumstances the two of you had bonded. seojun loves you, and as complicated as his feelings make things—jay loves you too.
jay joins eventually, helping slice fruit, moving around you like muscle memory. and then he brushes past you to grab a plate, and his hand lingers a second too long on your waist. your breath hitches.
you don't look at him. but you feel it.
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
the house was finally quiet. seojun had gone down for his nap without a fuss, leaving you sprawled across the couch in jay's living room, phone pressed to your ear.
"okay, wait—start from the beginning," minho's voice crackled through your speaker. "did he take his shirt off or did you rip it off?" you rolled your eyes with a laugh. "neither! i wasn't some feral animal."
"please, you definitely were," he teased. "i know that tone in your voice. you're trying to act like it wasn't the hottest night of your life."
"shut up," you said, biting back a smile. "you're so annoying."
"you moaned his name, didn't you? tell me you did." he then pauses, clearing his throat as he prepares his best girly impression, "oh jay! jay right there." you roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh before glancing down at the little scratch marks on your thighs. "...maybe."
minho gasped like he'd just won the lottery. "i knew it! i need the full play-by-play. what was he like? slow and sensual? aggressive? did he say something like—'you're mine now, princess'?" he deepened his voice dramatically. you snorted. "why are you like this?"
"i live through your drama. and honestly? the hot single-dad boss fantasy? ten out of ten." you rolled your eyes again, but the smile stayed on your face. "you're insane."
"no, i'm just invested. i mean, your dad's going to lose his mind when he finds out you're hooking up with his business partner. this is better than any k-drama." you were mid-laugh when a throat cleared from the doorway.
you froze. you turned your head slowly to find jay standing there—back early from his meeting, suit jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes fixed on you with that unreadable expression he wore when he was annoyed... or worse, jealous. your heart dropped.
"i gotta go," you mumbled into the phone.
"why? what's—" you hung up before minho could finish. jay didn't say anything at first. he walked in slowly, setting his keys on the counter. his gaze stayed on you the entire time."minho, huh?" he said finally, his voice casual—but the edge was there, sharp and unmistakable. you shifted on the couch. "he's just a friend. you know that."
"yeah, i know," he said, but he didn't sound convinced. "didn't realize your 'just a friend' needed all the juicy details about what happens in my bed." you flushed. "you were eavesdropping?"
"i walked into my own house," he said coolly, raising an eyebrow. "and caught you giggling about our sex life." "we weren't giggling,” you murmur, embarrassed. "sure," he said, stepping closer. "so you didn't tell him how good i made you feel? how you squirted all over the bed? how loud you got when i—"
"okay, stop," you cut in, face burning. "you're being jealous over nothing." he tilted his head. "maybe. or maybe i just don't like the idea of some boy thinking he's got a chance with you." you blinked in confusion, "minho doesn't—"
"he does," jay interrupted, stepping even closer. you crossed your arms, not backing down, "and what exactly are we, jay? we haven't talked about last night properly. what we did, what we are. so you suddenly get to be possessive now?" his jaw flexed. "i don't know."
that caught you off guard. "i don't know," he repeated, softer now. "i didn't plan for this to happen. i didn't plan for you. but now you're in my house, you're in my bed, and my son asks for you before he asks for me." you blinked, heart stuttering.
"i think about what this means," he said. "what your dad would say. how he'd probably try to kill me." you cracked a smile. "he would. slowly and painfully." jay didn't smile back, not finding amusement in having to deal with your father, "and what seojun would think... if he knew. if he understood."
your expression sobered. "i don't want to confuse him," jay said quietly. "he's already had to grow up without a real mother. your chest ached.
"so it's always been just me and him," jay continued. "and now... there's you." you looked at him, your voice gentle. "do you want me to be there?" his eyes met yours, something raw in them, "yeah," he said. "i do." your breath hitched.
"but this won't be easy," he said. "not with the age gap. not with your dad. not with the way i feel when some kid like minho calls you and makes you laugh like that." you stepped closer. "i'll deal with my dad, and you know minho is my friend." jay scoffs at the last bit. "and seojun?" you paused, a smile appearing on your face when jay mentions the little twerp, "he loves me."
jay softened, "he does." you looked up at him. "so maybe this can work. maybe we just take it one day at a time." he studied you, then nodded slowly. "one day at a time."
and just like that, you felt the air between you shift—something fragile and uncertain, but also real. jay reaches for your hand, the warmth of his fingers interlocking with your own. you sigh in content. "no more secrets," he said.
you nodded. "no more eavesdropping." he smirked. "we'll see."
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
"are you and appa married now?"
the question drops like a bomb in the middle of the warm living room. you freeze where you're kneeling, halfway through tying seojun's tiny sneaker. your eyes snap up to meet his, wide and innocent—but there's something suspiciously knowing behind them. he had a small grin on his face, looking at you mischievously.
smart ass.
"what?" you blink, confused and shocked. "what makes you say that?"
"because appa never lets anyone touch his hair, not even me!" seojun says seriously, eyes narrowed like he's putting the clues together in his tiny head. "but you touched it yesterday and he didn't even yell. and you didn't yell at him either. you said 'thank you' when he brought you water."
"i always say thank you," you mumble, suddenly very interested in the velcro strap you're adjusting. you begin wondering if they make velcro sneakers for adults. "no you don't," he says bluntly. "you fight all the time. but now you smile. and he smiles too. and he puts his hand here when you walk." he pats the small of his back, mimicking jay's subtle touches. "so... are you his wife now?"
you sigh, resting your forehead lightly against his, "no, junnie. i'm not his wife."
"but do you love him?" your heart lurches. you swallow at his bluntness, "you ask a lot of questions for a 5 year old." he shrugs like an old man. "i'm smart. i know things."
you pull back, smiling softly at him, "yeah, you really do." just then, jay walks into the room, ruffling seojun's hair. "ready to go, bud?"
"appa," seojun turns to him seriously. "if she's not your wife yet, you better hurry. i want her to stay. she makes good pancakes." you look at the boy offended, gasping at his words, "so you only want me here for pancakes?" seojun grins in response, squealing when you attack him with tickles on his tummy.
jay glances at you—eyes dark, flickering with something unspoken and then he chuckles, low and affectionate. "working on it, buddy," he murmurs.
you roll your eyes, cheeks burning at his words "liar." jay smirks when he sees your face turn red, "brat."
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
jay gave you a quick pep talk before you left his home to finally see your father.
you chew at your lip nervously as you stand in front of your father's study door, your fingers twitching by your sides. he had texted earlier asking where you'd been the night before, and you lied—again. but you're not sure if he believed you this time. not when he knows how close you've gotten with jay. not when he's always been a little too observant for your liking. you take a deep breath, knock once, and step inside.
he looks up from his laptop, brow furrowed. "so. you're alive." you wince. "hi, dad."
he leans back in his chair, arms folding. "i'm guessing you didn't spend the night at minho's like you said." you hesitate. "no."
"then where?" you glance down, then back up. "jay's."
he doesn't respond at first. the silence thickens. "and?" he finally asks, voice tight. "is there something you want to tell me?" you swallow hard, fingers locking together. "we've... gotten close." his eyes narrow slightly at the term, repeating it with distaste, "close."
"i care about him," you admit. "and seojun. it's not just... it's not a fling, dad. i know he's older, and i know he's your business partner, but—"
"23 and 35, sweetheart." his voice is low, clipped. "he has a child. responsibilities. baggage. you really think you're ready for all that?"
"i've already been dealing with it," you fire back, trying to stay calm. "i've been helping take care of seojun for months. i love that kid. and jay... he's—he's good to me. in his own grumpy way." your father scoffs. "grumpy is one word for it." you cross your arms. "you don't get to judge him. you've worked with him for years. you know he's not some asshole." he sighs, rubbing his temples. "i know. i know he's not. he's a good man. he's just... not who i pictured for you."
"me neither," you say quietly. he looks up at you again—less angry now, more tired. "does he make you happy?" you nod. "yeah. even when we fight. especially when we fight." he huffs out a reluctant laugh, knowing that jay at the very least was able to deal with his daughter's attitude, "sounds like you two deserve each other."
"but that doesn't mean that i'm fully okay with this. i need to chat with mr.park as well, about this." you nod at his word, a small laugh escaping you as you watch your father struggle to contain his protectiveness.
a beat of silence passes. "just... be careful," he says finally. "this changes a lot of things."
"i know," you say softly. "but i think it's worth it." he nods once, slowly. "alright." and just like that, a line has been crossed. awkward tension still lingers in the air, but there's something softer now. something almost like acceptance.
you step forward to hug him, and after a beat, his arms wrap around you too. "just don't let him break your heart," he mutters.
you smile. "i'll break his first."
he groans. "god, you're still your mother's child."
° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °
it's been a few weeks since everything changed—since your father reluctantly accepted the relationship, since seojun's wide eyes and perceptive little voice called both you and jay out, and since you finally stopped pretending what was happening between you and jay was just physical. things had shifted. not abruptly, but with slow ease.
the mornings in jay's house were no longer just routine—they had rhythm. you're in the kitchen, barefoot and sleepy, stirring the oatmeal you promised seojun the night before. the little boy's perched on the counter next to you, legs swinging as he munches on an apple slice with a bag of gummy bears wound tightly in his palms—humming some made-up song under his breath.
"you gonna tell your dad i let you have gummy bears before breakfast?" you tease, bumping his knee with your hip. seojun giggles. "hmm... depends. will you make pancakes this weekend?"
"blackmail? wow, you really are his son."
"damn right," jay's voice cuts in from behind, gravelly and amused, his hair still damp from the shower. he's buttoning up his shirt slowly, eyes scanning the scene in front of him like it's his favorite sight in the world. his son and you in his kitchen, soft morning light catching the curve of your cheek, your voice warm and teasing. he lives for this now. these little domestic moments of peace. "don't tell me you're bribing my kid," he mutters, brushing a kiss against your temple as he grabs his coffee.
you roll your eyes, "he's blackmailing me and bribing implies i'm getting something out of it." jay smirks, "you get to wake up in my bed. that's gotta count for something." you shoot him a look, but your cheeks warm anyway. he never misses a chance to fluster you, and he knows exactly how to do it—especially when seojun's around and your only defense is a quiet huff and a shake of your head.
breakfast is chaotic in the way that all good families are. seojun accidentally knocks over his juice, you forget the toast in the oven, jay's tie somehow ends up in the butter dish, and yet... it all works. it's loud and messy and full of laughter.
later, after jay drops seojun off at school, it's just the two of you again. you're curled up on the couch with your laptop, trying to work as the summer was over and you no long had the pleasure of rotting around. you can feel his eyes on you from across the room. he's supposed to be reviewing contracts, but instead, he's watching you—his bratty, stubborn girl who somehow wormed her way into the quiet places of his life and made them glow.
"what?" you ask, not looking up. he shrugs. "nothing. just thinking." you lift a brow, "dangerous."
"about how you were made for this," he adds quietly. "for me. for him. for all of this. even though the beginning of our relationship revolved around constant bickering.” you scoff, half touched, half embarrassed. "so dramatic." but he doesn't deny it. just leans back, arms crossed, eyes soft. "tell me i'm wrong."
you don't. not because you can't, but because for once—you don't want to.
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