hiiiii, has manic monday been released yet 🤔 I can’t seem to find it?
hi my love! she’s also still in hell (my drafts) bc my mind can never sit still and i just work sporadically on what key points pop up on a random tuesday! i WILL say she’s in the lead of all the other fics i need to post bc she’s funny and i need to write something happy for once bc life has been so daunting as of late
<3 here’s a little peak on updated aesthetics, theme songs, and jay’s personality LMAO (he’s in the lead of my favorite fic personas i’ve written)
playing ( your eyes only ) ── three months of secrecy crumble under Jay's lovesick habits.
info ⊹ ࣪ ˖ comedy + established relationship + fluff + kissing + park jongseong × fem!reader
☆masterlist
miu ☆ sooo finallyyy an enha fic hope y'all enjoy it! If you like my work don't forget to follow and support<33
I always thought hiding a relationship was the biggest relationship red flag.
If you loved someone, why would you hide them?
Turns out... I ended up doing exactly that.
Not because I was ashamed of Jay.
Never because of that.
But because our friends were the type to never let us hear the end of it.
Between the members and my own chaotic friends, a secret wouldn't last five minutes.
If one person found out... everyone would.
So Jay and I made a deal.
Three months.
No one would know. Just three months of peace.
Unfortunately... I forgot my boyfriend had absolutely zero survival instincts.
Class Call One — Under the Table
It was Friday night.
We were all crammed into a barbecue restaurant.
My best friend, Sera, was loudly explaining a dramatic story about her professor.
Jake and Sunghoon were arguing over who ate the last piece of brisket.
I was trying to listen seriously to Sera.
Suddenly, under the table, I felt a shoe nudge mine.
I didn't look across. I knew exactly who it was.
I quietly kicked him back.
Stop it
I thought
Instead of stopping, his foot slid right between mine. He hooked his ankle around my leg.
I froze. My breath hitched in my throat.
"And then he told me—wait, are you okay?"
Sera stopped mid-sentence, staring at me.
"Your face is completely red."
"Hot,"
I choked out, grabbing my cup.
"The soup is just... really hot."
Across the table, Jay sat there sipping his apple juice.
He looked like the most innocent man alive.
He didn't even blink. He just tapped his foot against mine again.
Close Call Two — The Bracelet
I bought us matching silver bracelets.
It was a cute, impulsive purchase. But we agreed never to wear them together in public.
The very next day, we met up at a cafe with Jungwon and Chloe.
Jay walked in, rolled up his sleeves, and rested his arms on the table.
The silver bracelet was shining right under the cafe lights.
He was wearing it proudly.
I immediately pulled my sleeve down, burying my own bracelet deep in the fabric.
Jungwon’s sharp eyes darted down.
"Oh, Jay hyung, nice bracelet," Jungwon said, tilting his head. He looked over at me.
"Wait. Didn't you have the exact same one yesterday?"
"Mine broke," I lied instantly. My heart was pounding.
"Yeah. Snapped right off. Cheap quality."
At that exact moment, Jay shook his wrist.
The metal charms jingled loudly.
He smiled directly at me.
"Really? Mine feels pretty sturdy."
I wanted to evaporate into the floor.
Close Call Three — The Hoodie
The air conditioning in the dance studio was freezing.
Our whole group was sitting on the floor, taking a break.
I shivered, rubbing my arms.
Without saying a single word, Jay stood up. He took off his oversized black hoodie.
And he casually threw it over my shoulders.
The entire room went dead silent.
Sunoo stopped chewing his snack. Ni-ki paused his game.
I panicked. I immediately tried to pull it off to give it back.
"Jay, no, it's fine. Take it back."
He pushed it back onto my shoulders.
"Keep it."
"Everyone's staring," I whispered through my teeth, glaring at him.
He leaned down just enough so only I could hear.
"Good."
Close Call Four — Walking Home
We left the studio together.
The plan was simple—
walk separately so nobody suspects anything.
I walked a few paces ahead with Heeseung and Chloe. Jay was supposed to be in the back with Sunghoon.
But he wasn't.
Suddenly, Jay was right next to me.
I quickened my pace. I walked faster.
Jay matched my speed.
I slowed down, pretending to check my phone.
Jay slowed down too, hands hands casually tucked into his pockets.
Heeseung kept glancing behind his shoulder, looking between us with a deeply confused expression.
"Why are you guys walking like NPC characters?" Heeseung asked.
"It's just a nice night for a walk," I said, laughing nervously.
"Coincidence!"
Jay just hummed in agreement, bumping his shoulder against mine.
Close Call Five — Practice Room
An hour later, we were back in the lounge.
My sneaker lace came undone. I bent down to tie it.
Before I could even loop the strings, Jay crouched down beside me.
He brushed my hands away. He took the laces.
He tied them into a perfect double knot.
Then he looked up, caught my eye, and flashed a soft, warm smile.
From across the room, Jake let out a loud whistle.
"Damn, Jay. Since when are you a gentleman to everyone?"
I almost died right there.
Jay just stood up and patted my head.
"Just helping a friend."
*A friend.*
Sure.
Close Call Six — The Almost Kiss
Later that evening, I thought we were finally safe.
The hallway near the vending machines was completely empty.
Jay caught my wrist and gently pulled me into the shadow of a corner.
"Jay, stop," I gasped, looking around frantically.
"We're in public."
"Nobody's here," he murmured.
His voice was low. He leaned in.
He kissed my forehead. It was warm.
Then he kissed my cheek. It made my stomach flip.
"Jay—"
He didn't listen. He leaned down and stole one tiny, sweet kiss right on my lips.
Instantly, footsteps echoed.
Sunghoon walked right around the corner, holding a water bottle.
Jay and I separated so fast we nearly tripped naover our own feet. I practically slammed my back against the wall.
Sunghoon stopped. He looked at Jay. He looked at me.
He slowly raised one eyebrow.
He didn't say a single word. He just took a sip of his water and walked away.
Neither of us breathed for the next ten minutes.
Closw Call Seven — The Habit
The biggest issue wasn't the intentional stuff.
It was his habits.
Jay had boyfriend habits that he couldn't switch off.
When my hair got messy, his hand automatically reached out to fix it.
When we ate tteokbokki, he reached over with his thumb and wiped sauce off my lips without even looking.
He always remembered my exact drink order.
He grabbed my heavy bag out of my hands before I could even ask.
He always waited for me after schedules, standing by the door.
And worst of all? Whenever I laughed at a joke, his hand instinctively reached out to find mine.
Every single habit screamed one word,
Boyfriend
─
It all came to a head on Sunday night.
The whole crew was gathered at a large round table at our favorite chicken place.
Tonight, the main mission of the group was actually to set up Jungwon and Sera. They had been crushing on each other for weeks, and everyone was trying to play matchmaker.
"So, Jungwon," Jake said, nudging him aggressively.
"Sera mentioned she wanted to see that new movie. Aren't you free this weekend?"
Jungwon turned bright red.
"Uh. Yeah. I think so."
"Great! You two should go together," Chloe chimed in, winking at Sera.
I smiled, watching the chaos. I promised myself I would just sit back, eat chicken, and survive this one meal without exposing myself.
Five minutes into dinner, it started.
Under the table, I felt a hand brush against my knee.
Then, warm fingers slid into mine.
I immediately tried to pull my hand away.
Not right now
I thought frantically.
Jay didn't let go. He caught my hand again, stronger this time.
He interlocked our fingers.
Then, his thumb started gently rubbing slow, soothing circles across my knuckles.
It felt incredibly good. Too good.
I was trying so hard to keep a straight face that my jaw was literally clenched.
Sunoo looked across the table at me.
"Are you okay? You look like you're fighting for your life."
"I'm fine!" I said, my voice a little too high.
"Just... really enjoying the chicken!"
Then, Jay took it a step too far.
He lifted our joined hands slightly under the shadow of the table.
And he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the back of my hand.
My ears turned completely, violently red.
The sudden rush of heat made me jump. My fingers slipped.
My chopsticks clattered loudly against my plate and rolled onto the floor.
"Whoops," I whispered, staring at the floor.
The entire table went quiet. The conversation about Jungwon and Sera completely died.
Everyone stopped looking at them. Everyone looked at me.
Then, they looked at Jay.
Sera finally let out a very long, very loud sigh.
"Okay."
Silence.
"Can you two just tell us already?" Sera asked, crossing her arms.
I blinked, pretending to be clueless.
"...Tell you what?"
Jake burst out laughing.
"That you've been dating for months!"
The silence returned. My brain short-circuited.
Beside me, Jay didn't look panicked at all. In fact, a slow, smug smile started spreading across his face. He didn't even try to hide it anymore.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
"You did this on purpose," I whispered.
Jay shrugged, looking incredibly pleased with himself.
"Maybe."
"You wanted them to find out."
"Maybe."
I groaned loudly, burying my face into both of my hands.
"I hate you."
Jay just grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Love you too."
Chloe interrupted, slamming her hand on the table.
"So we're right?! It's official?!"
I looked around the table.
Every single person was smiling. Ni-ki was grinning. Heeseung was shaking his head. Nobody looked surprised. Not even a little bit.
"Wait," I said, dropping my hands.
"You all knew?"
"Are you kidding?" Sunghoon said, scoffing.
"I literally walked in on you guys kissing in the hallway two days ago."
"And the hoodie incident?" Sunoo added.
"We aren't blind."
"We literally had a betting pool," Ni-ki shouted.
"Jungwon owes me twenty bucks!"
Jungwon groaned, pulling out his wallet.
"I thought they would last at least till next week."
I let out a long, defeated, completely exhausted sigh.
I looked at Jay. He was just sitting there, looking like a king who had just won a war.
I couldn't help but smile.
I reached under the table, grabbed his hand myself, and lifted it up. I placed our joined hands right on top of the table for everyone to see.
This time, I didn't let go.
"Fine," I said, smiling fully.
"Yes. We've been dating for three months."
I glared playfully at my boyfriend.
"And apparently... I've been the only one trying to keep it a secret."
The table completely erupted.
Half the group started cheering. Chloe and Sera started demanding every single detail from the very beginning.
"See?" Jake pointed dramatically at us.
"That is why you guys couldn't hide it. You're too obvious!"
Before I could even reply, Jay leaned over. He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my temple.
I rolled my eyes, but the butterflies in my stomach were going wild.
"Happy now?"
Jay didn't answer with words. Instead, he cupped my cheek, leaned in, and kissed me straight on the lips right in front of everyone. It was a real kiss—warm, confident, and full of love.
"Gross!" Ni-ki yelled, covering his eyes.
"Get a room!" Sunghoon laughed, throwing a crumpled napkin at Jay.
Jay broke the kiss, pulling away just a fraction. He looked down at me, his eyes softer than I had ever seen them.
"Incredibly happy," he whispered.
And for the first time in three months, I didn't care who was watching. The secret was finally out, and his hand was firmly in mine.
husband!jay who, for a very long time, had been the epitome of restraint. Your marriage began with the discreet, practical formality of a courthouse ceremony — a necessity, considering his schedule was an unforgiving, suffocating machine of back-to-back meetings and global acquisitions. He was there, present, but always a man committed to his work. And yet, the day your wedding celebration finally happened and the honeymoon arrived, coinciding with his first real stretch of vacation in years, the man you thought you knew simply vanished, replaced by something far more primitive and, frankly, exhausting in the most wonderful way possible.
He turned into a complete, shameless koala. It wasn’t enough for him to just be near you; he seemed to have developed a physical allergy to any space between the two of you. In Paris — the city you’d chosen for your honeymoon — it only got worse. Jay insisted on holding your hand at all times, as if the entire city needed to know you were his. He held onto you as you walked through elegant streets, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk just to fix your scarf and use the excuse to steal a kiss, tugged you closer by the waist whenever you paused in front of a shop window or some café too pretty to resist, and kept an arm around your shoulders for nearly the entire walk back to the hotel. Inside bookstores, in restaurants, while waiting in line at a pâtisserie, it didn’t matter, Jay always found a way to touch you. A kiss to your temple while you picked dessert, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your palm under the table, his face buried in your neck the second the elevator doors slid shut. The man who once barely had time to breathe now seemed determined to make up for every second of distance that had built up between you, and he did it by becoming absurdly, scandalously affectionate.
But it was behind closed doors that the transformation became truly overwhelming.
The man who used to be so disciplined, so careful with his energy, suddenly seemed to have an infinite, bottomless reservoir of desire. He didn’t just want to love you; he wanted to consume you. Every night, the moment the lights went out, the “magnate” Jay dissolved into a man driven by one singular, frantic purpose. He pulled you into bed with hungry intent, spending hours exploring every inch of your skin, his mouth pressing warm, wet kisses from your collarbone all the way down to your thighs, clearly trying to memorize the texture of your body better than you knew it yourself.
And then there was the way he always came undone always deep, intense, with a primal force that left you breathless and trembling. It was as if, after years of being a man of logic and spreadsheets, he had finally decided to let instinct take the wheel. It got to a point where you genuinely started wondering whether a human being was capable of going into some kind of permanent rut. You’d catch yourself staring at the ceiling in those quiet moments after he finally fell asleep, sprawled over you like a heavy, satisfied predator, thinking about the sheer physical effort he put into every single encounter.It only made the questions from those nosy aunts at family dinners feel even more absurd. Every time one of them leaned in with that curious look and asked, “So, when are we going to see a baby with his face running around?” you could feel heat creeping up your neck. You’d glance at your husband, sitting among the elders with the impeccable posture of a respectable, successful husband, and have to bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing or maybe moaning. While they theorized about “bad timing” or “planning,” you’d secretly be thinking about the brutal, relentless biological warfare Jay had been waging against your uterus for the past two weeks. Really, it wasn’t for lack of trying. It was almost funny to imagine your aunts’ reaction if you actually decided to tell the truth: “If only you knew the amount of effort he puts into making that happen every single night!”
husband!jay who is an actual menace when it comes to physical proximity in public. Of course, he’s not stupid enough to be overt about it, but you can still feel the subtle drag of his thumb tracing slow circles over your white tights, the touch growing heavier over the milky fabric the second he feels you part your legs just a little. He’ll be discussing market trends with complete seriousness while his grip tightens just enough to let you know exactly what he plans on doing to you the moment you both get in the car.
husband!jay who finally sheds all that polished, statesmanlike composure the second your bedroom door clicks shut. He doesn’t want to be the calm CEO anymore; he wants to be a man completely surrendered to his own urges. After days of deprivation, he has no patience for anything slow or delicate he wants the friction, the weight, the overwhelming sensation of being buried inside you. He’ll strip you with focused, efficient intensity, his eyes dark and heavy behind his glasses before he finally takes them off and tosses them aside like they’re just another useless corporate accessory, all so he can focus on you and only you, his breathing breaking into rough, guttural grunts as he whispers the filthiest things against your ear.
husband!jay who doesn’t care about gentleness or whether you still look “pretty.” In fact, what revives him after a draining day at the company is seeing you ruined in his bed, hair tangled from his rough tugging and that dazed, well-sated look written all over your face.
husband!jay who prefers to dominate you the old-fashioned way, favoring the raw connection of skin against skin, no distractions, no games, no toys. To him, those are nothing but excuses for weak men who can’t measure up on their own and need a third party to satisfy their wives. Please, how humiliating would it be for Jay Park to let his wife come from nothing but a cheap vibrator? He’d rather pin your wrists above your head, pressing your body into the sheets beneath the heavier, harder weight of his own until you can feel every solid inch of him. There’s no restraint; he drives into you with deep, rhythmic thrusts, loving the sound his firm pelvis makes when it collides with the softness of your ass. He wants to hear you moan his name, hear your voice crack when he keeps hitting that perfect, sensitive spot over and over again.
husband!jay who comes home and can’t even pretend to hold himself back, losing every ounce of polish and manners he spent his life learning; his senses narrow into those of a hungry, slightly caveman-like man. He hikes up your skirt, his large, calloused hands gripping your thighs so firmly they’ll leave faint marks by morning. Taking you from behind while you’re washing dishes becomes the sole objective, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his slacks and pressing into your ass, grinding there like some dog in heat. He doesn’t care about looking “elegant,” not when he’d been fantasizing about this exact moment for hours in the cold emptiness of his office. Eventually, the dishes slip from your soapy hands, forcing you to brace yourself against the cold ceramic of the sink when his pace starts growing harsher.
husband!jay who comes home after a fourteen-hour conference looking absolutely exhausted, yet still ridiculously handsome with his tie loosened and his sleeves rolled up. He doesn’t want some grand romantic display; he just wants to bury his face in your warm, soft breasts. Is that really too much to ask?
husband!jay who is an exceptional provider in the most practical, realistic sense of the word. He doesn’t buy you extravagant jewelry just to show off; he’s the kind of man who notices when you casually mention a skincare serum while making the bed, or a snack you liked that grocery stores don’t even sell anymore. In the blink of an eye — or after a few minutes spent negotiating with suppliers from each brand — everything would be stocked in the pantry before you even had time to realize you were craving it.
husband!jay who, every time he leans in to smother your moans with his wet, firm kisses, carries a faint trace of his office life on his breath. It’s the taste of the lozenges he chews to stay alert through long meetings, or the mint gum he uses because he once saw online that chewing it makes his jawline look even sharper. It’s such a strange, intoxicating contrast the feeling of his hot, heavy tongue sliding against yours, always paired with that artificial coolness.
husband!jay who, despite the chaos and pressure of his packed schedule, turns into a complete whiner the moment the morning sun hits the bedroom. When you try to move, making excuses about needing to get up to make coffee or start your day so he doesn’t end up late, he answers with a low, irritated groan that vibrates deep in his chest. “I’m the boss, remember? I can buy coffee on the way… or you can just bring me some later.” And while you try to pull away, his hand starts wandering with slow, lazy intent, gliding from your waist down to the waistband of your pajama pants. The sensation is devastating in the best possible way; the solid, firm weight of his hand is warm, but as his fingers brush your skin, the smooth, cold metal of his wedding band creates a sharp, vivid contrast against the heat of his morning touch. It’s such an intimate, comforting feeling that your breath catches, wiping out any motivation you had to be productive. He feels your body go still and lets out a low, satisfied murmur of victory, already knowing you won’t be seeing a coffee machine anytime soon.
Jay stirred and moved around in his sleep as his mind kept going back to the thought of you, about how you were so far away from him. You had took a trip with your "girlfriends" down to fucking VEGAS. Just thinking about it made his eyes open, sleep no longer present in his mind. Only you. You and your friends had planned a trip after being away from each other for so long, and to make matters worse, it was strictly an ALL females trip. No bf, no spouse, no nothing. 'No boys aloud', we're your exact words.
He couldn't help but miss the sound of your voice. But it was more than that, he missed the way you could make him feel grounded without even being in the same room.
The distance felt heavier tonight.
But after taking a breath, he finally go the courage, he felt around for him phone on his bed and opened it. The bright screen of the messages between the two, blinding him. His thumbs hovering over the keyboard. He wasn't one for flowery prose, but he wanted you to know he was thinking of you.
Jay: Still awake, or has Vegas swallowed you whole yet?
He paused, then added another, his pulse quickening slightly.
Jay: Missin' that voice of yours. It's too quiet here without you barkin' at me.
He tossed the phone onto the duvet, watching it glow. He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing his own impulsiveness. He was supposed to be the composed one, the steady rock, yet here he was, pining like a lovesick teenager while you were likely halfway through a bottle of champagne under the Vegas neon.
He waited, staring at the ceiling of his dark room, the silence of the apartment feeling deafening. Every minute that passed felt like an hour. He tried to convince himself he was being possessive, but it was more than that, it was a visceral, hollow ache. He wanted to be the one making you laugh, not just the one listening to the echoes of it through your insta story.
Finally, the screen lit up again.
You: Just got back to the room! The girls are passed out, but the music is still ringing in my ears. Vegas is absolute madness, Jay. You wouldn't believe the outfits we're wearing... 🙃
Jay felt a slow, heavy heat settle in his lower belly. The mental image of you in one of those "outfits" something bold, something that highlighted your curves and the radiance he knew so well was enough to make his breath hitch. He sat up, leaning his back against the headboard, the cool air of the room hitting his skin.
Jay: Outfits, eh? Sounds like a distraction. Hard to focus on sleep when you're describing how good you look in things you won’t show me.
He bit his lip, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He was pushing it, he knew. He was supposed to be letting you have your fun, but the distance was a torture he wasn't quite prepared for.
The silence of the room was thick, charged with the kind of electricity that only comes when two people are thinking the exact same thing from hundreds of miles apart. Jay watched the little typing bubbles dance on the screen, his pulse thrumming in his fingertips.
Finally, the notification pinged, making him jump slightly.
You: Oh? Is the big, tough Jay getting distracted by a little bit of fashion? 😉 And don't act like you wouldn't love to see them. If you were here, you wouldn't be sleeping at all.
Jay let out a low, ragged exhale, a sound that was half groan, half laugh. He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes darkening as the teasing tone of your text hit him like a physical weight. You knew exactly what you were doing. You were playing with fire, poking at the hunger he’d been trying to suppress since the moment you boarded that plane.
Jay: Don't tease me, baby. You know damn well what that does to me. You're thousands of miles away, acting like a menace while I'm sitting here losing my mind.
He shifted, the fabric of his sleep shorts rubbing against his semi erect cock, making the ache down there almost unbearable. He couldn't help it; he needed to push back, to bridge the gap between the teasing and the truth.
Jay: If I were there right now... you wouldn't be talking about your outfits. You'd be too busy trying to run away from my dick. But since we’re talking about your outfit, how about you send me a picture of how it looked on you.”
Jay's heart was hammering against his ribs. He knew he was being greedy, pushing for a visual when he should be letting you rest, but the hunger was a living thing in his gut, gnawing at his composure. He could almost see you through the screen the warm glow of the hotel lamp hitting your pretty skin, the mischievous glint in your eyes as you read his demand.
The typing bubbles appeared, then vanished.
They appeared again. He held his breath, his hand instinctively sliding down to the waistband of his shorts, his thumb grazing the heat of himself through the fabric. The anticipation was a slow torture.
Finally, the phone chimed with a distinct, heavy ‘ding’. A photo.
Jay's breath hitched as the image loaded. You were standing in front of the full length mirror in your hotel room, the lighting soft and flattering.
You were wearing a dress that left very little to the imagination. A shimmering, deep emerald silk that clung to every curve of your curvy frame, the neckline dipping dangerously low to showcase the plumpness of your breast. The slit up the side showed off the length of your long legs, and the way you were looking at the camera... it wasn't just a casual snap. It surely meant for him.
You: Is this enough of a distraction for you, love? But be careful though... you might not make it through the night if you keep asking for more lol .
Jay let out a choked sound, a low groan that vibrated in his throat. He felt the blood rush to his face and his groin simultaneously.
Jay: Fuck... you're trying to kill me, aren't you? You look incredible. God, you look so fucking sexy.
The friction of the fabric against his skin was no longer enough. Jay's hand slid beneath the waistband of his shorts, his fingers curling around his length with a desperate, uncoordinated urgency. He stared at the photo, his eyes tracing the curve of your waist and the swell of your breasts beneath that emerald silk, until the image felt less like a picture and more like a memory he could touch.
He was breathing hard now, the sound of his own ragged gasps filling the quiet room. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw you not just in the dress, but the way you'd look with it bunched around your waist, your skin glowing under his touch, as he fucked you from behind with no intention of stopping.
He suddenly got an idea. If you wanted to play this game, he was more than happy to raise the stakes. He wasn't usually one for doing this, but the hunger in his gut outweighed his usual reserve. He wanted you to see exactly what you were doing to him to see the physical evidence of how much he craved you.
With a low, ragged exhale, he shifted his position, propping himself up against the pillows. He slid his shorts down, his fingers gripping his length firmly, guiding it into the light. He focused his gaze, trying to steady his shaking hand as he angled the phone.
The resulting photo was stark and intimate. His cock was fully erect, thick and heavy, the skin stretched tight and glistening. The veins were prominent, mapping out the intensity of his arousal, and the head was a deep, flushed red, leaking a few stray beads of pre cum that caught the dim light of the room. His hand, large and scarred, was wrapped around the base, his fingers digging slightly into his own skin, conveying the sheer force of his need.
He hit send, his lips curling.
Jay: does this make you want to come home any sooner?
The silence that followed the sent message was agonizing. Jay lay there, chest heaving, the cool air of the room doing nothing to dampen the feverish heat radiating from his groin. He felt exposed, not just because of the photo, but because of the raw, unadulterated desire he'd just laid bare. He was a man of control, a man who prided himself on being the steady hand in a storm, but you had stripped that away with a single emerald dress and a teasing text.
He stared at the ceiling, his hand still resting heavily over his pulsing length, his thumb tracing the underside of his tip as he waited. Every second felt like a minute; every minute felt like an eternity. All he could focus on was the tiny, glowing screen on the duvet.
Then, the phone vibrated. Not a text. A call.
Jay's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He scrambled to grab the device, his fingers slightly clumsy as he swiped to answer. He didn't even bother to pull his shorts back up, sitting up against the headboard with his breathing still ragged and uneven.
"Hello?" he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, sounding deeper and more gravelly than usual.
"Jay..." your voice came through the speaker, soft and breathless, a stark contrast to the loud, chaotic world you were supposed to be in. There was a tremor in your tone that told him everything he needed to know.
Jay leaned back, his eyes closing as he listened to the sound of your breath hitch. The silence between your words was heavy, thick with a tension that seemed to bridge the hundreds of miles separating you.
"I... I can't stop thinking about it," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "The way you looked in that photo.. So hard and throbbing. " There was a rustle of fabric, the unmistakable sound of silk sliding against skin.
He heard a soft, shallow moan escape your lips, and his grip on his own length tightened instinctively. "Fuck..” his voice low and rough. "Tell me exactly what you're doing."
There was a short pause.
"I'm... I'm touching myself," you confessed, your voice dropping to a sultry, private murmur. "I just had to see if I could feel you, even while in Vegas." He could hear the faint sound of your fingers moving, the wet, rhythmic friction that made his blood boil. "My skin is so hot, Jay. I'm imagining your hands instead of mine... imagining how you'd pull me toward you and..." You gasped, a small, sharp sound of pleasure. "Oh god, I'm so wet for you, Jay. I can feel myself aching and-ngh~ d-dripping just thinking about you being here."
Jay's breath hitched, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his own hardening length. “Fuck, more..” Jay begins to stroke his cock, “Tell me more,”
“Ngh-E-Every time I close my eyes, it's not my hand I feel... it's you. It's your large, pretty hands pulling my hips back, your thumb finding that perfect, sensitive spot..."A sharp, broken moan escaped your lips, a sound so filled with pure, unadulterated need that Jay felt a phantom ache in his very bones.
"I'm rubbing myself just the way you like," you whimpered, the wet, slick sound of your fingers becoming more pronounced. "I'm imagining you're right here, watching me... doing it for me. God, Jay... this feels soo good.”
"Don't stop," Jay growled, his voice low. He began to move his hand in a frantic, punishing rhythm, his hips hitching as he pictured you in that dim hotel light. "You're driving me fucking crazy, baby." he groans, his voice a dark, desperate rumble. "If I were there, I'd have you face down on that bed, that dress thrown across the room, and fuck that pretty, wet pussy senseless, making sure you forgot every other person in that city." His grip on himself was so tight.
You gasp at his words, the sound of your wet, slick friction was a torture Jay hadn't prepared for. It was a rhythmic, desperate sound that echoed in his ear, driving him to the brink of madness. He could almost see you the way your head would be thrown back, your beautiful, messy hair against the hotel pillows, your pretty skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as you worked yourself into a frenzy.
Jay groaned, his voice breaking as he increased the speed of his hand, his thumb dragging heavily over the sensitive head of his cock. "Tell me how your pussy feels right now, baby. Tell me how tight it is for me."
It took you a minute to speak, "it's soo tight, Jay," you whimpered, a broken, high pitched sound escaping you. "My fingers are sliding in and out... it's so slick, so wet... I can feel my pulse throbbing inside me. I'm imagining it's you... your thick, heavy cock stretching me open, filling me up until there's no room left for anything else, shit~”
Jay let out a choked, guttural sound, his hips bucking off the bed. The mental image was too much the sensation of you clenching around him, the heat, the sheer, unbridled friction. "Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he rasped, his breathing coming in short, jagged bursts.
"Pleaseee..." you sobbed, the sound of your fingers working faster, more frantic, becoming a wet, slapping cadence. "I want you to fuck me... I want to feel you so deep inside me... oh god, Jay, it's so close... I’m so close..."
"Do it then," he commanded, his voice a low, desperate snarl as he neared his own limit. He was close, so fucking close, the tension in his muscles coiled like a spring ready to snap. "Cum for me, baby. Let me hear you scream. Let me hear how much you want me."
The air in both rooms seemed to vibrate with the intensity of it. You let out a long, shattered cry, your voice cracking as the first wave of your orgasm hit. It was a violent, beautiful thing. Your body arching off the bed, your fingers digging into your own thighs as your tight pussy clamped down in rhythmic, pulsing contractions. "Jay!" you screamed, the name a desperate plea as the pleasure flooded your system, leaving you gasping and trembling in the dark.
The sound of your climax was the final trigger for him. Jay’s eyes rolled back in his head, his entire body stiffening as he reached his breaking point. He let out a raw, animalistic roar, his hips thrusting upward one last time as he came. He felt the hot, thick jets of his seed erupting from him, landing right on his chest. He was shaking, his muscles twitching with the intensity of the sensation, his breath hitching in a series of broken, heavy sobs as he emptied himself.
Jay slumped back against the pillows, his chest still heaving, his hand still loosely gripping his spent, pulsing cock. He felt drained, hollowed out in the best possible way, yet the ache for you hadn't truly left, it had just transformed into a deep, quiet longing.
"Baby..." he finally managed to rasp, his voice barely a whisper, thick with emotion. "You still there?"
He waited, listening to the soft, sleepy sounds of your breathing on the other end, a small, lopsided smile tugging at his lips. Even through a phone, even across the miles, he had never felt closer to you.
"Yeah..." you breathed, your voice a mere thread of sound, sounding utterly wrecked and beautifully undone. "Still here. God, Jay... my heart is racing so fast, I feel like I'm floating."
Jay let out a long, shuddering exhale, closing his eyes to savor the afterglow. The tension that had been coiled so tightly in his gut had finally unraveled, leaving him feeling heavy and languid, though his skin still hummed with the phantom sensation of your voice. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead, his mind still replaying the way you had screamed his name.
"You're a menace," he murmured, though there was no bite in it, only a profound, aching tenderness. "A beautiful, absolute menace. You leave me for Vegas, left me alone in this quiet fucking house, and then you do that to me over a phone call."
He could hear the soft rustle of the sheets on your end as you settled back into your pillows, the sound of you trying to find comfort in the wake of your climax.
"It was worth it," you teased weakly, a tiny, sleepy laugh bubbling up. "You sounded so... hot. I loved it."
Jay chuckled, a low, gravelly sound that vibrated deep in his chest.
"Don't get cocky, love," he warned, though his eyes were soft. "Because when you get back... when you finally walk through that door... the phone won't be enough. I'm going to spend the first three days making up for every single second of this distance. You won't even be able to walk, let alone go out in those 'outfits' of yours."
He paused, his voice dropping to a soft, vulnerable register he rarely allowed anyone to hear. "I missed you. More than I thought was possible."
