ꕥ NICE N' FULL ⸝⸝⸝ six different scenarios in which the enhypen members breed the fuck out of you !
⚠︎ smut. mdni. breeding kink, mentions of pregnancy, p in v, dirty talking, pet names, more warnings listed for each member. total wc 4k. ⸻ rules ⋆ m.list
✷ NIA — not exactly what bae @vampsol asked for bc i went a little au-ish here :p but it's me so what did we expect. shoutout to my goat @karinasbaby for sharing a braincell with me and helping me w the ideas <3
ꕥ LEE HEESEUNG
arranged marriage, it's okay they're starting to be obsessed with each other, slight somno, oral (f. rec), cum eating
If you were to tell anyone Heeseung didn't as much as look you in the eyes about two months ago, they'd never believe you. Not if the way he's clinging to your lower half before he even opens his eyes fully is anything to go by. Still naked in bed, the wet sheets clinging to your bodies the only thing shielding you from the cool dawn air.
Marriages of convenience are rarely easy, especially for spirits as free as Heeseung, and he's made it clear to you how much he'd rather have married anyone else instead. They also come with burdensome expectations of heirs way too soon for his liking. Yet, something about your devotion to him in your most intimate moments despite your general indifference and coldness towards each other, brought the cold and hard as steel man down to his knees, a puddle of mush at your feet ready to fulfill any request.
"Hee," you mutter softly against your pillow as he parts your legs to make space for himself, and Heeseung's heart soars. A month ago it would've been 'Heeseung' or 'husband' with that venomous tone you seemed to only reserve for him, like his spot in your life was only a joke. It's different now, you're tender with him.
"Shh, pretty. Just lay here for me like this." It's still early, and Heeseung can barely see, but he wants the first thing he looks at in the morning to be your pretty hole, raw and sore from all the previous fucking, still gush his seed out. He parts your folds slowly, careful not to hurt you, and watches as his milky cum greets him, pouring out of you. It's a sight for sore eyes, and one he knows he will never get enough of. Even when he'll manage to put a child in you, he knows this is something he won't be able to let go of.
You shift, now more aware of your surroundings, but Hee is quick to keep you still. Your hand underneath your stomach faintly tingles because of its weird position, but it all fades in the background when Heeseung grabs your ass and spreads it, moving lap at where his cum is gushing out of you.
You're still sensitive from the night you spent together, but his touch is feather light and you don't really know if you want him to stop or you want more. He moans at the mixture of your tastes, pushing his tongue deeper inside your cunt like he's trying to clean you, switching so soft kisses on your lips once he's satisfied.
He makes his way up to your face, littering your bottom and spine in kisses and playful nibbles, relishing in the little sounds you make in response. Your front is still pressed to the mattress, and not seeing him almost makes you believe this is not the Heeseung that was shooting you sharp glares throughout the entire wedding ceremony. His touch is warmer, so much more delicate than the way he held your end that first night. His kisses are slow and deliberate, not empty and forced anymore. It's like soul has find its way back into Heeseung's being, after months of being a cold slate. The change started out slowly, but now you're here, and you genuinely feel like you could really love this man. Maybe a part of you does already.
His voice is the same, but the tone makes him sound like a whole different person, the forever present irritation is gone, only a playful tilt to it left as he finally reaches your ear to whisper in it. "Slipped out while sleeping, all of our hard work gone… such a pity." Heeseung aligns his cock to your weeping cunt, rubbing his head a few times along your folds, then carefully pushes in. "We have to do it all over again."
He's gentle, showering you in soft praises, and his thrusts are even slower. You've never known anything other than fucking, but you think this is what lovemaking feels like.
"So good, baby. You'll be such a good mom, you've been so patient with me even when i didn't deserve it. You'll be wonderful," he whispers in your ear, raising goosebumps all over your skin at just how sweet he sounds. "You are wonderful. You're perfect."
What better way to spend your honeymoon trip if not by getting filled over and over again by your dear, newlywed husband?
You can't think of any, but maybe that's also because you can't really think about anything that's not the delicious drag of Jay's cock against your walls. So deep inside you, pushing more even when his balls are already flush to your skin. Like he can't get enough, like he could break any barrier and mold into you as one if he really put his mind to it. He needs more, you both do.
But one thing's for sure, he's giving you his all.
"So fucking good, my wife has the best pussy. So perfect for me," he pants hotly in your ear, his large warm hand cupping your breast and separating it from the frigid glass your front is pushed against. The view from your suite is breathtaking, emphasized by the huge transparent wall, right beside the queen sized bed. At the moment though, you're not really focused on it. Nor is Jay, too busy gawking at your beautiful figure caged between his chest and the glass. He could stare at you forever. "I'm gonna stuff you full, baby. Gonna fuck you so good all trip, there's no way you won't be pregnant by the end."
You believe it, because all he's done ever since you undid your luggage in the middle of the room once you arrived to your destination is pump you full of his cum, all day, all night. And then all over again. Only stopping to get you food. You aren't safe from him when showering, even worse when taking a bath, definitely not when you're lounging around the natural pool close to your suite. It's not his fault you look so good in the bathing suits you packed and the ones he picked out for you. Jay has always had good stamina, but ever since the wedding he's been downright feral.
His thrusts are slow, but intense, like he's trying to drag the pleasure out as long as he can, savoring the way his tip nudges just the right stop that has you mewling in his hold every single time. His breath is warm against your neck and so are his grunts of pleasure, your favorite sound in the whole world.
Jay twists your sensitive and sore nipples between his fingers, only smiling into your neck when you reward him with the cutest mewls he's ever heard in his life. "Fuck, baby. I'm the luckiest man alive. I can't believe you're mine forever."
"You too," you whine in response.
"Yes baby, I'm all yours, forever. I love you much."
"Love you too," you sob, throwing your head back into his shoulder, completely overtaken by the pleasure he's giving you, allowing him more access to lick and suck on your sensitive neck.
"I know, baby. I know. You're doing so good, just a little more. My sweet girl, you'll be such a good mom. Can't wait to make you one. We'll have so many, so many cute kids running around. Doesn't that sound like a dream? Fuck, I can't wait."
The hand still playing with your tits slides down to your stomach, pushing down on it until Jay can feel his own cock thrusting into you. "Right here, you're gonna carry our baby here." He keeps fucking into you slowly, deliberately, so different from the speed of the circles he draws on your clit with the fingers that were soothing your hip just moments before. He drags out his own pleasure, but needs to give you so much more. "Come on my cock baby, milk it dry. We have so much more work to do."
ꕥ SIM JAEYUN
fwb!jake but he has feelings, he's down bad and a little subby in this one, dub-con (for jake), slight blood play (just his lip)
This is a series of mistakes. It's all Jake seems to be doing as of lately.
First of all, he's not even supposed to be in your bed again, the fourth time this week. Not when he finally came to terms with the fact that he has developed a raging crush on you and cannot keep his feelings at bay any longer, even when you two agreed this whole arrangement will only be sex and nothing else.
But he can't help it when you're so fucking addicting. You not liking him back is gonna break his heart, but at least he gets to fuck you, at least he gets a little piece of you, even if it's not exactly the one he wants.
Secondly, he should've refused to fuck you raw for the first time the moment you asked, even if the thought alone had his eyes crossing and rolling all the way to the back of his skull. But he's a weak man, for you especially, and he simply couldn't resist the temptation, not when you looked up at him with your big glossy eyes and with such a cute pout on your lip.
So here he is now, fucking you raw like his life is on the line, trying his hardest not to spill inside you too soon because if he does he might just die from embarrassment.
All he does, all he's ever done, is with the purpose of impressing you. It's like you have him chained up to this invisible leash he didn't even notice you put on him, and now it's too late to take it off. Jake means it when he says he would do anything for you.
His thrusts are shallow and quick, he's fucking you mostly with his tip, and you don't think you've ever seen him so worked up. It makes you feel things you didn't even know you needed. You like the feeling.
"You're so cute like this, Jakey," you giggle into the messy open mouthed kiss he's drowning you in, your fingers ghosting on the muscles of his back while his tremble on your waist. "Fuck me deeper, I want to feel all of you."
Jake's hips still for a second as he bites down on his bottom lip so hard he draws blood, but you don't mind at all. You even lick it clean, sighing dreamily at the iron taste overtaking your senses. Jake's eyes screw shut, and he's so close to cumming his eyes start to water. This is simultaneously the best and worst thing that has ever happened to him, and thinking that this might very well be the last time only makes his eyes wetter.
"I—fuck. I can't. I'll cum too soon."
"That's okay, we can go again," you say it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, and a little piece of Jake's heart breaks. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take.
You sense his hesitation and wrap your legs around his hips, pushing them closer to your pelvis so his length fully sheaths inside you. It's so warm and big and throbbing to release his cum in you and there's not a single thing you want more. "Fill me up, Jakey. Claim me," you whisper in his ear. "Why don't you show everyone I belong to you?"
Jake resumes his movements, tentatively at first but steadily building a pace that feels good, his thrusts are deeper now, needier, and even if he were to try to pull out, you'd keep him right there. "I want to. I want you fully, fuck— please be mine," he sobs into the valley of your breasts, voice muffled as he licks and nips at your skin.
"Go on. Make me yours then. Show me how bad you want me."
And he does because fuck, he's weak. He's so fucking weak for you and he wouldn't have it any other way.
ꕥ PARK SUNGHOON
coworker!hoon, secret relationship, semi-public, degradation, jealousy, mentions of marriage
Something about the way Sunghoon's thick eyebrows were furrowed from the second he walked into the job that morning, or how his jaw clenched as he gritted his teeth whenever any of your colleagues as much as opened their mouths to say something, should've been your cue to behave for the day.
Unfortunately for everyone involved, he happens to look so damn hot when he's pissed.
And he's so filthy when he's jealous, pushing his buttons becomes your favorite challenge in times like these.
"Eyeing Jake all day like you want to bring him to the back and fuck him, are you not ashamed?" he spits, voice an octave lower than usual and barely slipping through his gritted teeth. "Bending over in front of him, touching him when you know I can see you. Do I have to mark you up for you to fucking behave for once?"
The roughness in his voice makes your eyes wet but your panties wetter, he doesn't bother to undress you, you don't have time for it anyway. You're just a few steps away from the lounge bar where some of your coworkers are surely taking a break right now. Anyone could walk in at any time, and maybe Sunghoon wishes for that to happen.
Instead Sunghoon just flips your skirt up and pushes your panties to the side, immediately rubbing his angry red tip on your folds to coat them in your own juices. He feels so incredibly hard against you, and that's how you know he must've been hiding a boner this entire time. As much as he loves to pretend he doesn't, it's little cues like this that let you know just how much he enjoys putting you back in your place. "Of course you're soaked." He barks a laugh devoid of humor but full of disdain.
"If it's my attention you want," he whispers more softly, and the switch in his attitude sends shivers down your spine, something that doesn't go unnoticed by Sunghoon, his lips curling into a smirk. "I'll give it to you. I'll give you so much of it you won't ever think about disrespecting me again."
He pushes his girth into you fully in one thrust, his rough fingers finding your clit within seconds, not even giving you enough time to savor the pleasurable sting that comes from his cock stretching you out so nicely. He grabs your jaw in his other hand, his smirk not turned into a snarl. "You'll cum, and you'll cum hard enough to milk all of me. You'll keep cumming around my cock no matter how much it hurts, until I fill you up. Is that clear?"
You would nod if you could, but his grip is too strong, so you do what you can: just stand there as he subjects you to anything his heart desires. He doesn't move his hips, doesn't give you that satisfaction, only rubs his fingers on your tiny bundle of nerves so hard it almost hurts, but you'd never ask him to stop it.
"You'll take all of my cum, until your belly is swollen by how much of it I fuck into you. I'll put a baby in you so no one else will ever mistake you for anything other than mine."
You clench around him, time and time again, just like he wants you to. Sunghoon has you under a spell, and the more he talks, the more he flicks your clit, the less you think about what's rational and what's not. You only know what he tells you, and to you that's the only truth you need to hear.
"I'll put a ring on your finger, make you my pretty little wife. Maybe even make you stop coming in, I'll take care of everything. Yeah, keep milking me like that, baby. Let me make you a mommy."
ꕥ KIM SUNOO
ewb, hate sex, degradation, marking, one singular 'slut', condom comes off!
"You're—mhh, such a bad fuck," you say over your shoulder, wanting to see Sunoo's reaction despite the uncomfortable position. You're lying through your teeth, of course. You know how much saying things like this riles Sunoo up, and the only times you feel anything akin to like towards him is when he's rough with you. It's why despite the mutual hatred that makes up the entirety of your relationship, you two keep finding yourselves skin to skin, tangled in bed sheets. You always thought you needed someone to fuck you like they hate you, turns out, what you really craved was someone to fuck you because they hate you. And the right man for the job is right behind you, thrusting into you like he wants to hurt you, his hands leaving bruises on your hips like it's their right to do so.
"Then why are you here, wetting my cock like no one's fucked you in years?" His moves are relentless, and you have to try your best to not collapse on the bed because of the sheer force behind every stroke. Your legs are shaking, but you hang on a thread just to not give him that satisfaction. Instead, you push him further.
"That guy from—mph, yesterday. He'd—" you gasp as he gives you a harsher thrust, so deep you're sure you can feel it in your guts. The angle he starts fucking you in knocks the air out of your lungs in the best way possible, and even if you're trembling under Sunoo's weight and clawing at the cotton fabric next to you, you refuse to back down. "He'd do a better job."
You don't need to see his face, you hear the smirk in his voice, and it's the kind that sends a shiver down your spine each time. "But you're here." Another sharp thrust. "You don't even remember his name."
"At least he las– lasted while fucking me raw." You feel him halt all movement, and you know this is enough to get what you want from him, but you just can't help it. "You could never."
"You're such a little fox, aren't you?" He speaks calmly, but you can feel the storm brewing under the facade. He drags his fingertips across your spine, barely touching you at all. It's embarrassing how that's enough to have you bend under his touch. He reaches the plush of your ass, grabbing a fistful of it so forcefully you can feel his nails break the skin. He doesn't stop when you complain, doesn't care for your pained moans. "You think you're so smart, but you're just a little slut. You want me to fuck you raw?"
You try to shake your head to deny it, but he knows better.
"Yes you do. Say it." His grip on your ass only gets stronger, and tears line your bottom lashes.
"I do," you whine, finally. "Please."
"Good." Sunoo releases the death grip on your skin, soothing over the red spot with his thumb lightly, like it's not him performing the action. The Sunoo you know has no time for care. "Then take the condom off of me."
Your head snaps back at his words, but he makes no sign of moving. So you do what he says, this once. You reach for this length, then carefully slide the rubber off of it. And right when he thinks you're finally behaving, you squeeze his cock so hard his hips stutter forward and you actually manage to steal a surprised yelp out of him.
Sunoo's reaction is immediate. He grabs both of your hands, uncaring for the way your elbows are uncomfortably bent, and brings your wrists together behind your back. He slides into you again in one swift motion, not giving you even a second to savor the feeling of his bare cock pushing into your heat for the first time. All of your nerves feel on fire, and as he sets a breakneck pace while keeping you down and unable to move.
"Do I have to fuck a baby into you for you to finally behave?" He gasps when you squeeze him in response to his words. "You'd like that yeah? You'd love for the man you hate to get you pregnant? Is that gonna make you shut the fuck up for once? Oh, I bet it will."
ꕥ YANG JUNGWON
fiancé!won, they're obsessed your honor, love on the floor
"You can't wait to get me pregnant, but what will you do when you won't be able to suck on my tits for months, mhh?" You giggle on Jungwon's lap, right in the middle of the empty room.
The new house still smells like new houses usually do, dry and woody, like the windows are never open. There's no furniture yet, but it doesn't stop your heart from pounding in your chest as you look around. Your home.
Jungwon's eyes never leave you though, and when you look back at him and find him smiling at you like you hold the world in your palm, you know you would be happy with every house, no matter the size or appearance, as long as he's the one you share it with.
"What makes you think that's gonna stop me?" Your fiance replies, shaking his head to move the bangs out of his eyes. "I'll even get something more out if it."
"Won!" you exclaim, hiding your face in your hands. Your heart melts a bit when you hear that familiar boyish giggle leave him, light as air, and for once in your life you feel like you've found the right spot in the world.
The warmth you feel spreads further as Jungwon starts caressing your bare thighs, until he's gripping your ass, using it as leverage to push you on his crotch.
You gasp at the feeling, and your hands find their rightful place on his broad shoulders so you can keep yourself steady as he starts to roll your hips against his.
"Won… we shouldn't—"
He shuts you up with a soft peck, resting his forehead against yours. "Why not? It's our place. We worked so hard for it, we should celebrate."
You bite your bottom lip as you think about it, but Won doesn't waste a minute and flips both of you over so you're caged between the floor and his chest. He nibbles on your ear, knowing better than anyone else how weak it makes you when he does that. "I'll make you feel so good, doll." It's like he's put a spell on you because you nod before he even manages to finish his sentence. "Just lay back and let me do all the work."
Your clothes are soon discarded everywhere around you, and your legs are wrapped around his hips as he fucks into you like he never has before. You're both a sweaty mess, panting in each other's mouths, exchanging spit any chance you get.
"Your pussy was made for me, doll. You're sucking me in so well." Jungwon moans against your lips, and you watch enamored as his eyes shut close and his eyebrows furrow, a droplet of sweat running down from his hairline. "Can't wait to take you on every surface of this house. Fuck— just leave it to me, baby. I have so many surprises for you."
"I'm so close, please," you whine, sliding a hand down his back to push his hips into you further. It makes Jungwon's pace faster, more desperate to give you exactly what you need.
"Let go, baby. Come all over my dick— yeah, just like that. You're taking me so fucking well. Such a perfect doll for me." His praise goes straight to your cunt, and you squeeze him impossibly hard as wakes of pleasure rack through your body.
"My perfect angel, you're gonna look so good swollen with our baby. Am gonna give you all of my cum, just a little more. We'll have so many kids running around the house we built. Our home forever," Jungwon babbles in your ear, and you're so fucked out you can even barely make out what he's telling you. You just know you need him to fuck you full, over and over.
His hips never stutter, despite how drenched and slippery everything is by now, a puddle of wetness pooling underneath you on the hard floor, getting bigger and bigger the more Jungwon fucks you, and you suspect the floor won't be the only surface you'll wet that day.
( 애인 ) 𝒾n which ︵ since you're afraid sex will ruin your relationship, your best friend promises you it'll be just the tip. well, guess what? he's kind of a liar. ⫶ smut mdni 277O dom!enha friends-to-lovers-esque very much strings-attached sex rough/mean sex implied no protection confessions not proofread (oops ><)
⌨️ like&&reblog for a kiss. ── #click4masterlist to see more.
LEE HEESEUNG ── "yes, baby, i swear. c'mon, jus' let me in you."
the thing with heeseung? you've never been good at denying him of what he wants. all it takes is one look, one pout, and you're caving instantly.
you tug your bottom lip between your teeth, hesitant, "hee, please don't... you said it'd be just the tip." thing is, he's your best friend. at least, that's all he's supposed to be—instead, he's lined up between your legs, the leaky tip of his cock tapping against your clit, practically begging to let him fuck you right.
heeseung's fingers brush your slick cunt, and you whimper, bucking your hips slightly up. "i know you want it, doll. lemme make you feel good, yeah?" he leans down, teeth sinking into the skin of your collarbone, making your breath hitch in a whiny moan.
his touch makes you melt. makes your brain short-circuit. makes you forget about any worries you have about ruining what you already have with him. he drags his tongue over the bite marks he's just made, soothing the spot.
he litters soft kisses all over your chest, and just like that, you forget why you ever held off fucking him like this in the first place. "okay," you whisper. "shit—okay."
he looks up quick, like he's not sure if he even heard you right. but there's this grin on his face. it's wide, toothy, and entirely too smug. like he knew you'd end up agreeing. if he wants to rub it in, he doesn't, which you're a little grateful for.
"fuck, baby, thank you. gonna fuck you so well, i swear you won't regret it."
yeah, just like he swore he wouldn't go past the tip. the retort dies on your tongue, because then he's pushing into you, the bed frame creaking in protest with every thrust. he's just so big, and he barely gives you a moment to adjust.
"mm, wait, hee—"
"sorrysorrysorry," he groans, the words falling from his mouth in a single string. "just spent so long dreaming of fucking this pretty pussy."
PARK JONGSEONG ── "y'know, you're not doing a great job at pretending you don't want this."
your face flushes, and you try to duck your head, but jongseong's hovering over your body. with the hand that's not on your bare hip, he pulls your chin back towards him, forcing eye contact.
"seongie," you whine, a tinge of embarrassment in your voice. "you promised we wouldn't go all the way."
"and you're making a mess all over my cock, baby. just give in. you know you want to." he doesn't say it like he's pleading or trying to convince you. he says it like it's a fact, which might be worse.
actually, it is worse.
because he can read your body. he can read the tremble in your voice as you try to hold your ground. the hitch of your breath when his tongue flicks against your nipple.
even now, when he's barely more than an inch into you, he doesn't miss the way you're squeezing him, practically trying to suck him in. and with how wet you are, it'd be so easy to just slip right in.
"i—i don't know," you stammer out, or try to, as he rubs slow circles onto your clit, smearing your messy arousal all over your thighs. you part your lips, like you're about to protest, but all that comes out is a moan.
"but we're friends—" you bite out, your arms around his neck, instinctively pulling him closer.
"so what? we'll be friends that fuck. or more, if that's what you want. that's what i want. we can work out the details later, can't we?"
the word more rings in your ears, and jongseong can hear the gears shifting in your cock-drunk mind.
"hey, hey. don't worry your pretty little head about that right now. just let me take care of you. it'll be the best you'll have."
you nod once, barely interceptable, but he shakes his head. "words, sweetheart. use your words for me, hm?"
you feel heat creep up your neck, but you nod again anyway. "yes, seongie. i... i want you to fuck me."
god, you really don't have to tell him twice.
it's when he finally bottoms out, that he has to stop and go though a roster of formula 1 teams, in order not to cum.
after all, might not have kept his initial promise, but he would be the best fuck of your life.
SIM JAEYUN ── "please, angel. fuckin' hell... you need this as bad as i do, don't lie."
jake's eyes are so innocent, though the intent behind them is anything but. his gaze, set firmly on you, makes heat pool in your stomach, adding to the wet mess on the sheets beneath you.
sure, you and jake had fooled around before. it wasn't rare. if anything, it was a daily occurrence. you'd humped him mindlessly on the couch before, sucked him off in his studio, and let him finger you for hours at a time. but this?
this wasn't the same. actually fucking him felt like crossing a line. like stepping over an already blurry boundary.
but he's adamant. so adamant. he's got his heart dead-set on this, pouting at you with those pretty pink lips, slightly swollen from kissing. as mentioned, however, it's anything but innocent.
he's spent the better part of an hour marking you up, leaving hickeys and bite marks all over your body. your neck, your chest, your thighs. shades of pink and red have bloomed all over your skin, and he's never looked prouder.
"jakey, 's not that i don't wanna," you say, soft and shaky. because of course you want to. it's all you've ever wanted. to feel his cock inside your cunt, for him to fuck like a dog in heat. "it's that i don't wanna mess this up."
"mess what up? us? angel, you could never. no matter what, okay? you seriously can't get rid of me that easy," he assures you, both efficiently and kindly. and in case his words aren't enough to soothe your doubt, he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, quick but lingering.
"really?"
"really. will you let me feel all of you now? hm? let me fuck you the way you deserve?"
"please," you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. that's all it takes for him to ease into you slowly, like he's trying to memorize this moment and keep it with himself forever. the groan that jake lets out at hearing your soft whimpers—it's straight up pornographic.
"this pussy is so much fuckin' better than my fist."
PARK SUNGHOON ── "you're leaking all over my dick, and still... you're going to say you don't want me?"
one thing park sunghoon always found joy in was teasing you. it didn't matter what for.
whether it was pointing out every time you'd stumbled over a crack in the sidewalk, or still bringing up that one time from a year ago when you'd accidentally put the cereal in the fridge and the milk in the pantry—he was relentless when he wanted to be.
like now. especially now. just... instead of sidewalks and cereal boxes, it was the way you were a teary, needy mess, and still insisting that you didn't want any more than the tip of his thick cock.
you shake your head, trying to fight back a moan when he pinches your clit. "d—don't be mean, hoonie."
"i'm not being mean, sweets," sunghoon chides, but he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose nonetheless. "if anything, you're the one being mean. you're such a pretty little thing, thighs spread, all dripping for me... and you expect me not to want to fuck you all the way?"
he clicks his tongue, pushing a little further into you. he watches your eyes hit the back of your head, the cutest, breathiest sound leaving your mouth.
"please," you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders.
"please, what? i can't even tell what you're begging for, baby. 'please, hoonie, fuck me?' is that what you're begging for?"
"fuck—yeah," you blurt, before you can even process the words that are leaving your mouth. it seems to surprise him just as much, because his eyes go a little wide, and for someone who's spent the last thirty minutes with sharp, quick responses, he seems a little speechless.
"well, damn, baby. thought we'd be going back and forth a little while longer," he chuckles, brushing a stray strand of hair away from your face. "not really complaining, though."
when sunghoon fucks into you, it's so him. harsh and cruel, but with loving intention. the pace he sets is rough, and he really doesn't show you any mercy.
turns out, being a little mean can get you a long way.
KIM SUNOO ── "so insistent on playing this game, huh?"
"sun, it's not... It's not like that," you protest weakly, but the way sunoo's looking at you—like a man who's got the world at his fingertips and knows it—has the rest of your sentence dying on your tongue.
"what is it like, then? you just feel like being a brat?" sunoo's words are sharp, they always are, but never sharper than the feeling of his teeth nipping at your collarbone. he doesn't seem annoyed by the waiting game. a little impatient? well, yes.
not annoyed, though. not frustrated. just... bored. it isn't disinterested-bored. more like give-in-already-so-we-can-cut-to-the-chase-bored. it's different. it's cocky. because he knows you'll end up submitting to him.
the feeling of his tip pressing against the entrance of your wet heat makes you flinch, and it takes everything in you not to beg him to fuck you right then.
"i—i feel," you stutter, "like not losing us over some sex."
sunoo's head snaps up. "some sex?" he asks, almost sounding offended. no, scratch that, he does sound offended. "you're seriously underestimating how good of a fuck i am."
"that's not the point!" if he didn't have your hands pinned together above you, you'd hit him, because he's being so... sunoo. misinterpreting your words on purpose, teasing you, seeing how far he can push you until you snap. and both of you know you're already reaching your breaking point.
he lowers his head to the crook of your neck, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses all over your chest. his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and biting, committing your soft whimpers to memory.
"nothing'll happen to us just 'cause we had some earth-shattering sex. i mean it. if anything, you'll just become more obsessed with me," he snickers, dropping a hand between your legs to slip his fingers between your folds.
"fuck you."
"i'm clearly willing."
you're silent for a beat, but the sheer need for him, for wanting to get fucked dumb on his cock, is overwhelmingly loud. "fine," you whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. he laughs, condescending, but it just makes you clench.
he pushes into you, and his dick fills you up, makes you feel so good, so full. sunoo's hips snap against yours, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. every thrust makes you cry out, and he drinks up the sweet sound.
"i'll show you some sex," he scoffs.
YANG JUNGWON ── "i know, pretty girl. i know. but you won't regret it."
his words are entirely too convincing. they fall from jungwon's mouth, easy and honey-sweet. there's a soft sheen of sweat on his skin, and the curve of his lashes has you melting into his touch.
"wonnie..." you whisper, soft and uncertain. like there's more you want to say, but can't find the words for.
jungwon just kisses you, his lips slotting against yours. and because he's him, your best friend for ages, you kiss him back. he tastes like strawberries and your coffee that he stole sips from.
he's already more than an inch in anyway, waiting for you to let him in all the way. "you're thinking s'loud," he murmurs, pulling away, a thin line of saliva connecting his mouth to yours. "i can hear you from here. don't overthink it. haven't even fucked you yet, and you're already squeezing around my cock."
his voice dips to a lower register, and he leans down by your ear, his breath hot. "just let yourself have it." the tone jungwon uses makes your face flush, and your heart skips a beat in your chest.
he always looks so gentle about everything, but there's a mocking lilt in his tone right now that makes you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
the movement makes him slip deeper into your cunt, and he groans, "fuck—fuck, princess. give a guy a warning, yeah? gonna make me cum just from that." jungwon's hips stutter as he readjusts, and he shifts his angle, needing more of you.
"sorry," you breathe, looking up at him. his hair is tousled, slightly unkempt from you running your hands through it. "i just... um, i like you. this. us. whatever 'us' is."
"yeah? same here, baby. i care about you too much to ever do anything to jeopardize us." he pauses, tucking hair behind your ear. "do you trust me?"
you don't hesitate. "yeah, wonnie. i do."
"good," he says, his lips meeting your temple. he looks at you, silently acknowledging what he's about to do. when you nod, he bottoms out, pushing himself all the way in. his cock drags against your walls, stretching you out on himself.
"mm—won—" you moan, grasping his arms to steady you.
"shit, you're such a good girl. feels nice, right? didn't i say it would?"
NISHIMURA RIKI ── "screw that promise, baby. to hell with it. this pussy's so perfect, s'begging to get fucked by me."
so far, riki's been true to his word. he's only an inch deep, but you know it's better than anything you've ever had before. he knows that, too—it's what makes him so confident.
"'ki, but you said—"
"angel, i say a whole lotta things. i definitely don't mean them all," he snorts, reaching down to rub your clit with his thumb. it makes your frown melt into an expression of bliss, the kind you only get from pleasure.
it doesn't help that riki's so pretty, and surely it doesn't make any of this easier. because he's the smug kind of pretty. the kind where he's fully aware and doesn't hesitate to use it to his own advantage.
it’s the way he looks at you like he already knows exactly what you’re thinking, and he’s just waiting for you to trip over your words first. it’s not even that he’s trying too hard; it’s just there, in that little tilt of his head or the way he lets a silence stretch out just a second too long.
he knows it gets under your skin. he knows it makes it impossible to actually stay mad at him, which is the worst part. you want to call him out on it, but then he smiles that specific way, and suddenly you’re the one who’s on the defensive.
trembling, you shake your head, though your resolve is wearing away. "friends don't fuck," you say, your tone hush.
"friends don't do whatever this is, either. if you're worrying about crossing some sort of line, i think we're a little far past that point."
you groan, burying your face in your hands. riki always has to go and make everything harder, doesn't he? in response, he just kisses your tit, and then your jaw, before finally pulling your hands into his.
"that doesn't make me feel better," you mumble.
"it wasn't really supposed to. i'm being honest, sweets. we're gonna be fine. we're gonna be okay."
finally, you sigh, "well, okay. i guess—"
you're cut off by his cock abruptly slamming straight into you, without so much as a warning. you cry out, back arching up as you sink your nails into the biceps of his arms.
mid-moan, you gasp, "what the fuck, riki!"
"sorry, fuck, sorry," he grunts, but by the way he isn't slowing down, you don't know if he means it. "ripped the bandaid off, angel."
riki leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy, wet kiss, swallowing the noises you make. with every ram of his hips against yours, you can feel his dick kisses your cervix, the way he throbs inside you, how his pelvis grinds against your clit.
he groans against your lips, "gonna make you cum so good, you'll forget to be mad at me."
AKA━━━━⊱ you ask jay to fuck you hard and he does; while he records for his friends, of course.
pt. i of THRILL [pt. ii | pt. iii | pt, iv]
pairing | jay × reader
genre: smut | wc: 3.7k | content: smut, unprotected sex (p in v; wrap it before you tap it), fingering, brief oral (f receiving), spanking, pussy slapping, rough sex, consensual recording of sex, doggy style, hair pulling, cervix kissing, lowkey cock shaming? (i just be writing anything), squirting, jay cum's on the readers ass, brief use of daddy, mentions of other partners, aftercare mentioned
mcwilla.log: merry christmas..? i've been on a writing kick so this may or may not be my last post until the holidays - we'll see. thank you so much for the love on my last fic, it genuinely warms my heart more than you all know. next fic will either be the ni-ki req or the start of a heeseung miniseries (teehee). likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated; as always, thank you for supporting my work!
The sweat pooled between your back and Jay’s chest would’ve been disgusting in any instance other than this one. With both of your clothes discarded somewhere on the floor and his chest pressed flush against your back, you, quite frankly, didn’t give a flying fuck about anything else.
Jay hovered over you; his arms parallel to your face as he fiddled with his phone on the windowsill. You just sat there, patient as ever and admiring your boyfriend on the camera. You tried to sit still, but, fuck it, you were horny. Goddamn that gorgeous man.
This was almost routine at this point—Jay recording you. He was protective and easily provoked with fits of jealousy, so it was contradictory. Wouldn’t someone so hellbent on making sure everyone knew you were his want to keep your sex life a secret? Well, sure, in a sense. It wasn’t like he was posting these videos for the world—not at all. He was just sending them to his groupchat, obviously.
You couldn’t remember the first time this happened, but for some reason, it didn’t bother you. You weren’t stupid. You noticed Heeseung’s wandering eyes that always landed on your chest, you weren’t oblivious when it came to Sunghoon trying to show off his gym progress, and there was no way Jake wasn’t even a little bit conscious when he’d drape his body over your own at the bar. But the weirdest part? Jay never cared.
Your boyfriend would’ve pulled you possessively close and thrown a mean look over his shoulder had it been anyone other than his friends acting like this. You’d thought about it a lot—what the difference was in response, and you finally came up with your conclusion.
Jay got off on it.
Jay simply loved knowing his friends were so enamored with you that they probably jerked off to your Instagram account. He loved knowing he was the one that got to fuck you—not them; loved knowing that he was the one splitting you open on his cock, he was the one tasting your delicious pussy, he was the one making you cum and cry and beg for more.
And yeah, his friends talked about it. His friends mentioned how hot you were, cornered Jay into giving them details about the sex, everything. Quick comments of, “How tight is she,” and even, “How does she look when she cums—fuck, I bet she sounds so hot.” And you knew, though you pretended you didn’t.
So, when one night of disgustingly passionate sex after a night out with Jake and Heeseung eyefucking you was coming to an end, Jay asked if he could record. You said yes, he pressed the button, and after five minutes of slow, sensual strokes, you came around Jay with a loud cry and soft whimpers to accompany your clenches.
“I’m sending this to the guys,” he said as you two started drifting off.
You just laughed in response and said “Do it, I wanna see what they say.”
And after that night, it became routine. Jay didn’t always record the two of you, maybe once every few months. But the knowledge that the camera was on and his friends would be watching turned him on more than he’d like to admit. Jay liked to rub it in their faces. He liked to say I’m the one who gets to fuck her pussy, not you without actually saying it.
Tonight was different; tonight had a purpose.
“Fuck,” you felt his muscles flex beneath you. You reached up and grabbed Jay’s bicep, a soft moan slipping past your lips; you were getting impatient. “I don’t like the angle, it’s pissing me off.”
Jay grabbed the phone from the windowsill and put it in your hands. He adjusted your arms, making sure your face and chest were visible. The only part of himself on camera was his chest and shoulders, but he got cut off at the neck. Jay pressed a few kisses on your neck, wet and open mouthed, as his hands found themselves on your waist. He stroked your skin, soft and lovingly before giving it a quick squeeze.
“Wanna press record for me, baby?” He murmured into your neck. You nodded, hands shaking as your fingers found the red button on his phone. Jay’s hands splayed themselves over your stomach, the tips of his fingers dangerously close to your pussy. You were wet—so wet—with anticipation that the mere suggestion of Jay touching you made you impossibly wetter.
“They can’t see you,” you breathed out.
Jay chuckled. His fingers found your clit as they rubbed soft circles onto the bud. Your back arched up off his chest and a moan fell from your kiss-swollen lips. “It’s okay—they know who’s fucking you.”
Jay continued touching you, and you just stared into the camera. You made pouty faces and gave it soft winks and smiles as though you were testing out angles for a selfie or admiring your fresh makeup. Every now and again, when Jay would rub your clit just right, your mouth would fall open or your face would twist with pleasure. You’d catch it on the screen, and a soft blush would rest across your cheeks with a shy smile across your lips.
“Tell them what’s happening,” Jay whispered. His fingers picked up the pace; you internally cursed him because you knew he did it on purpose—knew he wanted to hear your voice quiver and shake while you addressed his friends.
“Uhm,” you began, a shy giggle slipping past you as you moaned. “Wha,” you squeezed your eyes shut, “Whad’you want me to tell them?”
“What you told me,” Jay’s voice was low and sensual. You could hear him fine, but the video only picked it up in the distance, although the viewer could hear him clearly. “What you want me to do.”
Heat rises to your cheeks at his words. Right. That. “Oh,” you bite your lip as Jay picks up his pace again before quickly slowing down. His fingers move along your swollen bud slowly now, large circles that make you shake with want. “I told Jay that,” you hesitate a bit, staring at yourself on the screen with big eyes.
Jay comes into view now, hooking his chin over your shoulder. He admires the two of you on screen and a sly smirk paints his sharp features. Jay licks his lips and chuckles before he latches onto your neck. He nips and sucks your skin, making you jump each time he makes contact with a new area. “C’mon, use your words,” he says, “Tell ‘em what you told me—don’t get shy now.”
You swallow thickly before nodding. “I kinda want him to be,” you hesitate again, your voice growing smaller. “Like, rough with me.”
“Like what?”
A whine slips past you as you purse your lips into a pout. Of course, he’s doing this. Jay likes to act all macho when the camera’s on, likes to humiliate you because he knows it’s what his friends get off to.
“Like, slap me a bit, be a lil’ rough—not too much, though! I don’t wanna hurt.”
“Y’know I won’t hurt you, baby.”
You nod again. Your lip is between your teeth once more and you will yourself to keep talking. “Fuck me harder than usual—y’know? I jus’ kinda wonder what it feels like.”
“Yeah,” he’s talking to the camera now, “Figured I’d show you boys what it’s like to throw her around.” A wicked smirk takes over him once more as he removes himself from your neck and focuses on the camera. Jay grabs the phone from you and puts it on the windowsill. He fiddles with it again, obviously unhappy with the angle. Jay clicks his tongue, ultimately deciding it’ll do.
The camera shows more now. It shows your completely naked body and how you’re sitting on the bed, back against Jay’s chest and legs open for them to see you dripping. The angle also shows Jay’s fingers back on your pussy. They rub slow circles on your clit once more, and with your hands free you take the opportunity to grab onto Jay’s biceps. Your eyes are screwed shut, mouth hung open as soft pants slip out. Jay kisses your shoulder once, twice, before he removes his hands and brings them to your waist.
Jay scooches back from you and hooks his arms under your armpits. He hoists you up until you’re sitting on your knees before he places his hand on the small of your back. “Bend over for me,” he commands, and of course, you comply.
You let Jay’s hand guide you down - face first into the sheets. Your cheek is pressed into the cloth when you feel Jay grab your hands. He binds the two with the fingers of just one of his hands while the other lands a sharp smack across your ass. Immediately, you feel the sting from his hand, yet you still moan. The sound surprises you, but not Jay. No, Jay expected you to like it—he knows you too well.
He holds your wrists behind your back and soothes the red print with his hand. Your thighs clench together, and he notices.
“C’mon, don’t hide from me,” he coos. Your pussy oozes arousal and you feel Jay drag his finger up your slit. Your hips move on their own, pushing back towards him for some kind of relief. Jay clicks his tongue, gathering the wetness onto his fingers before pulling away.
He leans towards the camera and spreads his fingers apart. The scene is grotesque; your slick strings together as his fingers spread, wetness visibly dripping down their slender form all for the phone to see. Jay makes eye contact with the camera, smirking while he brings his fingers into his mouth. The man laps at them—starved. He moans and sighs in pleasure, eyes screwed shut as he relishes in your taste.
He pulls away, examining your position. Jay leans forward, licks a thick stripe up your pussy, and lands another sharp slap, this time on your pussy. You twitch and cry out, tears prickling into your eyes.
Jay chuckles before shoving two of his fingers inside of you—rough and unapologetic with no warning. He pumps his digits in and out, in and out, at a brutal pace. There’s no intention of slowing down or showing you any signs of mercy. The squelchy sounds of your pussy are obscene—the sound bouncing off the walls all around the two of you.
“Yeah, look at that—fuck. You’re sucking them in, baby,” Jay leans forward and kisses your pussy, lips attaching to your clit as he suckles the swollen bud. Your whines join the rest of the absurd sounds, putting on a show for the camera.
Jay curls his fingers perfectly, right at the spot he knows drives you mad. You let out a particularly loud moan, and that seemed to be Jay’s cue. He picks up the pace, slamming his fingers in and out of you, abusing the spongy spot inside of your pussy. The palm of his hand smacks against your ass with every thrust, the sound of skin on skin now loud and obscene.
You clench around him, the whines of his name now accompanied with soft pants. Jay knows you’re getting close, and so without a second thought, he pulls his fingers away. Whimpers fall from your lips, tears coming to your eyes once more at the loss of contact.
“Jay,” you cry.
Jay coos at you, sucking his fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. He chuckles at you, almost mocking your state. “It’s okay, baby. Ion’ want you to cum too fast.”
You whine again, pushing your ass back in hopes he’ll give you something. Jay responds to your action with a smack, his hand rubbing the red skin as he presses a kiss to it. Jay cups himself through his boxers, palming his erection as he lets out a groan of relief. His cock is already hard and leaking precum, a wet patch on the front of his underwear signaling he can’t wait much longer.
He pulls his cock out, pumping himself as he stares at your position. Your hole clenches around nothing, oozing arousal. Jay screws his eyes shut, mouth hung open as he fucks himself with his hand.
“Oh, fuck,” he hisses when he ceases his motions. Jay scoots closer to you, lining his tip with your hole. You whine at the sudden contact, pushing back against him in hopes of getting him inside you faster. Jay doesn’t think twice before spanking you again, this time not offering any comfort.
“Fuck, you guys are missing out,” he speaks to the camera, his smirk coming back. “Tip’s barely in and she’s already tight as fuck.” Jay pushes into you about two inches before settling. You’re tighter than ever. His chest rises and falls as he tries to steady his breathing, but fuck, you feel so good. It’s all overwhelming, even to him.
Jay settles his hands on your hips, snapping his hips forward as he buries another couple inches into you. You feel so full, and he’s still not even done. That’s what you love about your boyfriend’s dick - he’s so big that even half feels like you’re going to fucking die. He hardly ever uses his whole length, but when he does - it’s heaven.
You begin to rock back onto him, a silent signal that you’re ready for him to start. Jay clicks his tongue before letting out a sigh, “Patience, baby.”
You whine at his words, pouting against the sheets. Jay doesn’t wait long before giving you what you want, however. Quickly, he starts his thrusts. Rough and fast, not letting up. He brings your hips back to meet his thrusts, your whole body limp and pliable under his magnificent hands.
You’re being fucked like a stupid doll. Back and forth, back and forth, it doesn’t stop. The smacks that ring out through the room as your ass bounces off his pelvis are loud, but it only eggs him on. Jay hit the spot that makes you see stars, and you cry out louder than you have tonight.
Your hands find purchase in the sheets around you, desperately trying to anchor your body from the damn near abusing pace Jay has set. Soft breaths are punched out of you with every thrust; Jay’s own grunts and groans are raw and full of need.
Jay slows his movements down when he fists a handful of your hair. He pulls on it and drags your body up; back flush against his chest as you’re pulled onto your knees. You stare at yourself on camera; nose red and raw, eye makeup smudged with tears, drool collecting around the corners of your mouth. Jay keeps his hold on your hair with one hand and grabs your breast with his other, manhandling the mound of flesh.
“Look at them,” he says to you. You nod at him, eyes remaining focused on his phone. “Tell ‘em how you feel.”
Your lips quiver as you try to find your words, but you simply can’t. Your eyes drift down to your pussy visible on the screen - split open on Jay’s cock and dripping in an insane manner. Jay notices, removing his hand from your chest and bringing it to your pussy. He spreads your lips open, showcasing your pretty pussy to his friends.
A possessive smile spreads across his face, “Her pussy looks so good split open like this, huh?” You moan at his touch and words, which just gives him the confidence to keep going. “She wouldn’t look nearly as good on any of you guys, though.”
His fingers find your clit, giving it slow, languid rubs while Jay leans towards your neck. His lips find your sweaty skin, latching on and leaving open mouthed kisses all over. His tongue darts out, licking up a bead of sweat as he enjoys the salty taste.
“She only likes to fuck guys with big dicks, right, babe?”
You let out a laugh of disbelief that quickly morphs into a moan.
“Answer me,” he whispers into your neck.
You nod, “Mhm.”
“Mhm? C’mon, be a big girl and use your words. I know they’re in there, somewhere.”
“Ye,” you’re interrupted by a moan, “yeah - yes.”
Jay smirks. He releases his grip on your hair, letting you crash down onto the mattress beneath him. Jay resumes his pace. His cock is splitting you open—you barely had time to adjust before he set the speed.
His tip hits the right spot; the place that has your eyes rolling back and toes curling, the place that makes you see stars and has you reaching back to your boyfriend for comfort. Jay notices. Jay keeps fucking you like a stupid doll.
Harder.
Faster.
Messier.
Your ass meets his pelvis time and time again. Loud smacks bounce off the walls, the raw sound of skin on skin colliding is obvious to anyone who dares to hear what the two of you are doing. Jay loves it. Jay gets off on it.
You feel his ego growing by the second; every clench of your pussy and twitch of his cock a signal that he’s coming close to letting go. You are too.
You feel the familiar feeling deep inside your gut. The heat is rising; your stomach is suddenly heavy and you’re way too aware of everything happening. You’re aware of every drag of Jay’s cock—aware of every vein caressing your gummy walls.
Your moans increase in volume, Jay’s name spilling out of your lips. The entire scene looks and sounds like some kind of cheap porno performance, and you’d think so too if you weren’t actively living it.
“Fuck, baby,” Jay moans above you. His jaw is slack, eyes screwed shut.
“J,” you can barely finish his name at the pace he’s fucking you. “Jay—I’m gonna,”
“Fuck, me too baby.”
Something inside you snaps at that moment. Immediately, your body goes slack, brain goes numb, vision gets foggy. You cum more intensely than you ever have. Your juices squirt out of you, arousal coating Jay’s cock and thighs and pelvis. He’s simply dripping with you—all for his friends to see on the other end.
Jay doesn’t stop when you cum - he keeps fucking you with that raw, brutal pace he’s had set for the night. A low groan comes from deep within Jay’s chest. He feels your walls clench around him from the overstimulation.
“Shit—you’re so hot. I’m gonna—fuck,”
Jay pulls out of you in one swift motion. He angles himself above your ass, shooting ropes of his milky cum all over your red ass cheeks. Jay continues to pump his cock, milking himself until he’s emptied his entire load onto you.
You sit there, cheek still pressed into the mattress with tears running down your face, panting and desperately trying to catch your breath. You feel Jay press himself against you as he grabs the camera from the windowsill. He flips it, showing your cum-covered ass off to his friends.
“Look at her,” he says, fingers collecting his cum. He briefly shows the wetness of his thighs, laughing as he coos at your fucked out state. Jay presses his palm to your back, pressuring you to lay flat down onto your stomach. You comply, simply because you don’t have enough strength in your entire body to resist your boyfriend.
Jay hovers over you, camera shoved in your face as he shows you off to the audience. He brings his fingers to your lips, beckoning you to open them before he shoves his fingers into your mouth. You lap at them wildly, sucking the cum off his fingers until they’re clean.
Jay just laughs at you, “Yeah, show ‘em how needy you are for daddy’s cum.”
You moan around his fingers, eyes rolling back at his words. You pull off his fingers with a loud pop. Jay grabs your jaw, forcing you to face the camera. A cheeky smile spreads across your face; your tongue poking out with remnants of his cum before you pull it back into your mouth and swallow the rest of it.
You’re a mess—a beautiful fucking mess. Your hair’s all tousled and in your face, sticking to the damp skin adorned with tears and smudged mascara.
“Mm,” you moan, "tastes good, daddy. I wan’ more.”
Jay kisses the top of your head. “How was that, babygirl?”
You nod, nuzzling into Jay’s harsh grip on your jaw. “Good.”
“Don’t tell me—tell them.”
You open your hooded eyes wider, watching yourself on screen. “Sunghoon—it was really good,” you swallow your breaths for a moment, “you wanna join us next time?”
Jay lets out a low whistle, speaking up off camera, “You’re gonna leave Jake and Heeseung out?”
You laugh and bite your lip, “I didn’t say that. Jakey and Heeseung can join, jus’ thought Sunghoon would want to the most.”
Jay clicks the red button, ending the recording before he tosses his phone onto the comforter. He smoothes his hands over your body, a sudden sense of gentleness following his movements. You feel his weight leave the bed and you lay there, waiting for Jay to return.
When he does, he has a bottle of water and a wet washcloth. Jay doesn’t even let you attempt to move, just shushes you as he carefully wipes you down and finds your long-forgotten clothes on the floor.
“Are you okay—for real?”
You nod and giggle at his sudden soft disposition, “Yes, Jay. I’m fine,” you reach out for your boyfriend, “c’mere.”
He accepts your spent invitation, settling directly on top of you as you huff out a dramatic breath and mumble something about him being heavy. Jay just mocks you, reaching for his phone. He spends some time on it, splitting the video into chunks small enough to send to his friends. Jay kisses your head and your cheek and anywhere else accessible to him; he simply refuses to leave you without affection.
Jay sends the clips to his groupchat, one by one until almost the whole encounter is in the hands of Jake, Sunghoon, and Heeseung. He tosses his phone onto the bed, settling on top of you while he continues peppering you with kisses.
Barely two minutes later, Jay’s phone buzzes—five, six, seven times. It keeps buzzing, but Jay just laughs into your hair.
“Sounds like they like it,” he mumbles into you, “I hope you weren’t lying about letting them join.”
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.
— enjoy this fic? check out my other ones right here!
jay looks offended, deeply offended, and if they handed out oscars for the most disturbed-looking husband on a random thursday afternoon, he would’ve walked up to that stage with a speech memorized. no hesitation.
he lowers the hammer in his hand, lets it drop onto the half-assembled desk with a dull clunk, and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm, smearing a bit of sawdust across his temple.
“i literally married you,” he says, breathless, as he steps near you, sitting on the edge of the bed.
“yeah but people marry people,” you sigh, putting on a faux sad expression, “but do you really love me—”
“darling, i’m literally building you a wooden vanity closet,” he cuts you quick in your sentence, his eyes wide, “and it has been three hours now. i wouldn’t do that for anyone else.”
you press your lips together to keep from laughing. “you look good doing it though.”
his jaw ticks, he knows not to lose his patience, especially when you are all cute and testing it. he still thinks your question is ridiculous, of course he loves you. he loves you way more than the effort he’s putting in the vanity, and it’s not even one percent of what he’d do for you.
“my back hurts.” he sighs yet again
“because you love me?” “because i’m married to you,” he deadpans, rolls his eyes and strawls closer to you.
you pout. it’s exaggerated, a little playful. “so you don’t love me?”
jay huffs, then drops to his knees in front of you with a thud, on the bed. his hands settle on your thighs, sawdust and all, and his fingers press into your skin gently, grounding.
he looks up. his eyes are warm, but serious. intense, even.
“you drive me insane,” he murmurs. “you leave the shower light on. you forget where your charger is every day. you sing off-key when you think i’m not listening.”
you breathe stops, and before you can muster up a sentence, he says again.
“and i love you like i’m sick with it.”
you feel like your stops, with blood rushing up to your cheeks you really don’t know if you can handle this anymore. his thumb brushes over your knee.
“and if you say dumb shit like that again,” he says, voice low, “i might have to marry you again, just to prove a point.”
you open your mouth, ready to sass him back, but he leans in before you can.
his hand finds your waist, warm and rough from hours of sanding wood. his other hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth like he’s mapping it out. like he missed it all day. like he needed this more than food or rest or sanity.
and then he kisses you. not a soft peck. not a tired brush of lips. it’s full. warm. deliberate.
his mouth slides against yours like he’s finally off the clock, like this is his reward — the only thing that makes the bruised knees and splinters and forgotten lunch worth it.
your fingers twist into his shirt instinctively. his thumb brushes down the side of your neck as his lips move against yours with something a little hungry, a little breathless, but still so stupidly in love.
you pull away for air, lips tingling, chest rising in soft, quick breaths. your fingers are still fisted in his shirt, and he looks up at you like you just knocked the wind out of him — which, to be fair, you did.
jay’s lips are red, a little kiss-swollen, and he’s breathing just as hard.
you blink, lips tingling. “so, i guess, you really do love me?”
“i love you when you talk too much,” he continues against your lips, grinning, “and when you ask dumb questions, like if i still love you.”
you let out a tiny gasp, equal parts amused and overwhelmed, and he pulls you even closer, your forehead pressed to his. your hands rest on his shoulders, thumbs brushing the slope of his neck.
“hey,” you whine softly, but he leans forward again and steals another kiss before you can complain further — short, warm, like a punctuation mark.
“i spend three hours building a closet,” he continues, kisses the corner of your mouth, “you sit here looking like a whole heart attack—” another kiss, this time near your chin, “—and then you ask—” kiss “—me—” kiss “—if i—” kiss “love you?” another kiss.
you laugh into his shoulder, hands slipping up into his hair, heart stopping “i just wanted to hear it.”
his lips curl, lazy and crooked. “you’re so annoying,” he mutters
your breath catches as he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing, full of love. “god,” he mutters, eyes still closed, “you drive me insane,” he chuckles again like a reminder.
“you like it,” you whisper, a chuckle falling on your lips.
he smiles, just a little. then, without letting go of you, he sinks to the floor.
kneels. infront of you.
his arms wrap around your waist, cheek pressing softly to your thigh. he exhales against the fabric of your shorts, like being close to you settles everything.
you run your fingers through his hair, slow. comforting. he hums under his breath, content and quiet, letting his body relax against your leg.
“this okay?” he sighs, his lips tickling your skin as he grins on it.
you nod, resting your hand on his cheek. “yeah,” you smile. “more than okay.”
his lashes flutter as he closes his eyes again.
and there you sit, a half-finished vanity in the corner, a husband with sawdust on his arms and love in every touch, and a kiss still tingling on your lips like a promise that never gets old.
your heartbeat is still racing a little. his breaths are slower now. calm. heavy.
“i love you,” he says eventually, voice muffled and slept against your thigh.
you smile. bend forward and kiss the top of his head, “i know. i love you more.”
스루 ܃ uploading this from my college library .. chem i hate you 😞 feedbacks are very much appreciated !
Synopsis: Your sheriff husband really knows how to properly treat a woman.
Pairing: sheriff!Jay x wife!reader
Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, p in v, unprotected sex (not for you), oral (f and m receiving), face sitting, use of aphrodisiac (m), fingering, finger sucking ig?, pussy slapping, spanking, thigh riding, semi public sex, exhibitionism, breeding kink eyyy, edging, mating press, garter stuff, dom!Jay, sub!reader, rough sex, cumming inside (we gettin pregnant yall), me and my attempt at romance, mention of food
A/N: and thus we have the second installment of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang! yall know I am unable to write a jay fic without involving breeding in it so this one is for all my girlies who are ovulating. Shoutout as always to my child @wichujunseo who is the reason I included mating press ehehehe. as always, enjoy, my sweethearts!
Word Count: 11.5k (me and my urge to write dialogue)
Series Masterlist
You loved your husband.
Who wouldn't, after all? Maybe except for the crooks and calumnious cowboys of the town, everybody loved your husband. The town sheriff, five feet and ten inches of pure muscle packed into that tight little uniform of his, badge shining on his chest as his leather boots stamped on hardwood floors like he owned the very air; the first time you saw him in that entire get up, the brim of his hat accentuating his sharp eyes, his sharp jaw locked right as he fiddled with his tie, you nearly fainted (ignore how it was the hottest day of summer that day).
But unfortunately, being the town sheriff meant he would rarely ever be yours.
Only yours, even for the span of a cicada’s song.
Yours to kiss and laugh with, yours to leave marks all over, yours to be absolutely destroyed by in the bedroom. It had been almost two months now since you had him properly. Two painful, sexless months. What was a woman supposed to do?
You tried not to resent the badge, telling yourself it isn’t its fault or the town’s or the emergencies that always seemed to happen just as he walked through the door, hat barely off his head before someone’s knocking again. Worst part was he forbade you from visiting him at the station, too scared you’d get hurt because of some or the other crook.
But sometimes, deep into the melancholic night, when his side of the bed was still cold, you remembered how it used to be.
You were barely more than kids when you got married. Too young, the older women whispered. Too reckless, the men at the bar said. But you had looked at Jay standing there in that simple suit—nervous, smiling too wide, hands shaking when he held yours—and you knew he was your Orpheus.
He used to laugh more back then too, a bright, easy laugh that filled rooms. He’d steal you away in the middle of the day just to walk by the creek. He’d tip his hat low and pretend to be some grand outlaw sweeping you off your feet. You’d cook together in your kitchen, bumping into each other on purpose, arguing over salt and laughing before the argument could even start.
If he rode out, you rode with him. If he fixed fences, you handed him nails. If you sat on the porch swing at sunset, his hand would find yours without looking, like it belonged there.
You were young, so painfully, beautifully young. And in love, in that uncomplicated way where nothing else mattered.
You were inseparable, the perfect example of love.
Love is anything but perfect.
Now you sat on that same porch alone some evenings. The wood creaked the same, the sunsets were still gold, but the space beside you felt wider. Jay still kissed your forehead when he left in the mornings, still told you he’d be home soon, still called you “darling’” in that low voice that made your stomach flip.
But it’s different. He’s tired now. His smile didn't quite reach his eyes some days. When he came home, he’d collapse into a chair instead of your arms. You’d talk about supper, supplies, the weather—practical things, necessary things, safe things.
And you started to wonder. Did he still look at you the way he used to? Or did he see an obligation, a routine when he saw you now?
You hated yourself for even thinking about it. But doubt is a quiet, persistent thing. It slipped in when the house was too quiet. When another week passed with only brief touches and half-finished conversations. You found yourself staring at your reflection sometimes, wondering if you’ve changed. Maybe it wasn't that he loved you less. Maybe it was that he was afraid.
Afraid to bring the weight of his job home. Afraid to let you see the things he saw. Afraid that if he let himself relax, even for a second, something would fall apart. You remember how young you both were—how fearless. How sure that love alone was enough to carry you through anything.
Now the love was still there. You felt it in the way he paused at the door and looked back at you, just for a second longer than necessary. In the way his hand lingered on your waist when he passed. In the way he softened when you said his name quietly at night.
But you still missed him.
Your Jay.
How cruel the world was to take him away from the softness.
“I keep telling you—” Your neighbour laughed as she hung up laundry, “—all you need is one magical garment to get your husband back.”
“I am not wearing that old thing.” You scoffed, handing her a wet cardigan, “What’s gonna happen anyway? He’ll see me in it and suddenly drop to his knees?”
“Precisely.” She laughed, turning to you, placing her hands on her hips, “Just trust me this one time, and you’ll get your husband back this very night.” You rolled your eyes but your mind still drifted.
The white silk garter.
You hadn’t touched it in years. It had been tucked away carefully after your wedding night, folded with ridiculous tenderness as though it were made of spun glass instead of silk. You remember how young you’d been—how your hands trembled, how Jay’s did too, though he’d tried so hard to look confident. You remember the laughter more than anything. The way you both kept breaking into nervous grins like children pretending to be grown.
You cleared your throat and crossed your arms. “It’s old now.”
“So is your marriage, honey.” Your neighbor shot back, “And I’ve never given you bad advice to this day, have I?”
“What if I put it on and he doesn’t even notice?” You leaned closer, lowering your voice dramatically.
“He’ll notice.” She insisted. “Men are simple creatures. Especially when silk is involved.”
“Is that so?” You laughed as you put the laundry basket down, “You really do get the wildest ideas when you’re not over at the bakery.” You said, inviting her over for a glass of water at your house. These were rare days that you got to hang out with her, on days she didn't open her bakery.
“Come on, show it to me at least!” She said, leaning back against your kitchen counter with her arms crossed. You snorted despite yourself, nonetheless inviting her up to your bedroom. Her eyes went wide as you opened your closet, pulling out the little piece from some forgotten corner.
“Oh. My. God.” She gasped, making you laugh.
“I keep forgetting how young you are.” You ran your fingers over the garter.
White silk, slightly yellowed at the edges, delicate lace stitched along the top; and suddenly you’re twenty again—heart racing, cheeks flushed, believing that nothing in the world could ever wedge itself between you and the man who looked at you like you were the only thing that existed.
You sat on the edge of the bed, garter in your hands, and wondered if this was foolish—if a scrap of silk could compete with whatever weight he carried home in silence.
“You’re considering it aren't you?” Your neighbour said slowly, lips curling.
“I’m considering burning it,” You retorted, though your ears were warm, “If this doesn’t work, I’m blaming you for the rest of my natural life.”
“It’ll work.” She said confidently, grinning like she had won something.
“You are impossible.” You grinned.
But for the first time in weeks, something inside you felt less heavy, less afraid and more like that reckless, hopeful bride who once believed love could conquer anything.
Maybe tonight, you’d remind him of her.
_________________
Park Jongseong considered himself to be an alright man.
Alright in the sense that he actually considered himself to be a fucked up piece of shit who couldn’t even spare a second for his treasure of a wife. Life had gotten so busy nowadays that he couldn't remember the last time he spun you around in the kitchen, held you in his arms and kissed you all over.
Most nights, he came home late, right when the clock struck ten. You’d already be dead asleep on the bed, turned away from him, hair falling over your face to frame it in the most ethereal way ever. One day he came home to find you on the couch, apron still on and a cold cherry pie on the table; Jay wanted to be struck down by lightning right there and then.
His wife.
His beautiful, amazing wife, who had stuck by his side even when he wasn't the sheriff he was now.
And this was how he treated you.
Jay paused outside the door, a habit he’d always had, standing there on the ‘welcome home’ mat for a second before stepping inside, as if shedding the outside world from his shoulders before fully crossing into his home.
The house was quiet—lamps turned low, curtains drawn against the night, the air thick with the faint scent of…..lavender oil? Jay felt as if he were transported back to the night of his wedding, when your bedroom was all lavender, roses and some good fucking sex.
His hat came off first and then a quiet exhale as he threw his boots off.
“Darling?” He called, voice tired but still warm.
“In here, Jay.” You answered, from somewhere in the living room. Jay stepped into the living room, unbuttoning one cuff absently. Something kept swelling in his chest, was it the amazing scent wafting through the house?
“You’re still up darling? I thought you’d—”
And then he looked up.
And then the world stopped.
You had seen Jay angry. You had seen him determined, gentle, amused, even broken in the privacy of your arms after a particularly hard day. You had never seen him freeze like that, his hand frozen still mid-motion.
The fatigue vanished from his face so suddenly it almost startled you. His eyes, those sharp, steady eyes that intimidated half the town, widened in a way that made him look almost boyish. They narrowed with heat as he took you in, from the way the fabric clung to your breasts down to the way your hair came loose at some places.
“Hi honey.” You said sheepishly, toying with the fabric of your nightgown.
You had stood by the mirror for a total of fifteen minutes, making adjustments to every inch of your body. You’d pinned your hair up the way you used to in those early days, soft curls escaping on purpose.
The gown itself was a simple, flowing thing in pale ivory, sheer enough in the right light to hint at the curves beneath without giving everything away. You remembered how his eyes had darkened when you'd worn it before, how his hands had roamed all over like he was tracing a map.
And beneath it all, known only to you, was that thin band of white silk. It was delicate, the lace edges soft against your skin, hugging your thigh just below the hem. You’d added a touch of perfume, the one he always said smelled like home and waited in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting warm shadows across the space.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You felt heat suddenly creep up your neck. What the actual fuck were you doing?
“You’re staring.” You managed softly.
Your heart picked up pace as you ran your gaze over him in his uniform shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His dark hair was tousled, and a day's stubble shadowed his jaw. You saw the movement of his throat, the tightening of his jaw as though he were grounding himself.
“Can a man not look at his wife now?” The way he said it made your heart stutter, as he closed the distance slowly, “You look…” He stopped, eyes tracing you as though committing every detail to memory. “I don’t even have the right word.”
Jay’s hands found your waist, pulling you against him, and you felt the immediate hardness pressing into your belly. “What's all this, sweetheart?”
“Nothing much.” You avoided his gaze, looking down at your fingers, “Just thought I should remind the sheriff he has a wife.”
Your hand slid down slowly to palm his hard cock through his hands. It had him graining, his hips bucking forward seeking more of your glorious touch. You smirked at the massive tent in his pants, before leaning in to brush your lips against the shell of your ears.
“You were gone for so long. Might as well have fucked someone else in this town.” You whispered, feeling his grip on your waist tighten, “Who’s gonna resist this pretty body anyway?”
You pulled back, still avoiding his gaze, but the bruising pressure of his calloused hands on your waist told you everything you needed to know.
Jay’s hands came up slowly to your chin, his calendar index finger resting underneath it, and then tilting your head up. You had to hold yourself back from humping against his length when you saw his face, brows slightly raised, his tongue poking the inner walls of his cheek as if to ask ‘how dare you?’
“No answer, husband?” You slowly inserted his finger in your mouth, sucking on it and then pulling it free, “Well then I guess I have to—”
You barely had time to pull back before his mouth was on yours, hot and demanding. His tongue pushed past your lips to tangle with yours as he backed you up against the wall, pinning you there with his body. One of his hands slid up to fist in your hair, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss further.
“What was that sweetheart?” Jay grunted into the kiss, “Who’s gonna resist this pretty body?” His free hand slid down to grab your ass, squeezing hard as he ground his cock against you. You could feel it throbbing, begging to be let out and buried deep inside you. The thought made you whimper, your own arousal growing as he marked you with his mouth and hands.
“Well this pretty body,” He nipped at your bottom lip hard enough to sting, “is mine.” He pulled back just enough to stare down at you with dark, heated eyes.
You tilted your head up, meeting his stare with a playful pout. “Why don’t you come claim it then hm?” Your fingers trailed up his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath the shirt, “You still haven't apologised by the way. For keeping me lonely all these days.”
“Oh trust me.” Jay’s chuckle was low and promising, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips through the thin fabric, “I’ll show you how sorry I am, darling.” He gave your ass a light squeeze as he kissed your neck, sucking a dark bruise onto your skin as he rocked against you.
His lips brushed your forehead, then your temple, before capturing your mouth in a deep kiss. It started slow and apologetic, but quickly turned hungry, his tongue sliding against yours as he backed you toward the hallway leading to the bedroom. He tasted faintly of bourbon, getting your senses drunk, though he hadn't touched you properly yet.
Jay scooped you up in his arms, muscles flexing against his shirt as he did. Your legs wrapped around his waist like a choreographed routine as he carried you down the hall. The bedroom door was already ajar and he kicked in shut behind him, the room bathed in soft moonlight.
“Look so beautiful like this.” Jay muttered, before laying you down on the sheets with infinite care, your gown pooling it around you like a whisper. His eyes roamed over your body, drinking in the sight of you, before his hands traced the hem of your nightgown, pushing it up to expose your legs.
‘I’m the luckiest man in the world.’ He thought, as his eyes caught sight of the white fabric hugging your thigh. Jay wanted to tear that thing right off with his teeth, memories of your first night together flashing in his mind.
“You really went all out, yeah darling?” Jay said, cupping your cheek in his hand, you nuzzled into it, “I’m so sorry sweetheart.” He kissed your forehead, “I’m so sorry I left you all by yourself.” Then your temple, “Won’t ever do it again, alright?” And then your neck, all the way down to your chest.
With a reverent touch, Jay explored your body like a country he had forgotten he’d discovered, his hands mapping every dip and swell with a tenderness that belied the passion burning within him. You gasped and writhed beneath him, lost in a sea of sensation as he stoked the fires of your desire higher and higher.
“Jay…” You whined, “Want you soooo bad.”
“I know, darling.” One large hand settled on your hip, fingers splaying possessively over the curve where your gown had ridden up, exposing your skin to the cool air. He traced lazy shapes there—swirling patterns, perhaps hearts or initials, you couldn't quite tell through the haze of contentment—with the pad of his thumb, the touch feather-light and soothing.
“You remember that thing we used to do?” Jay said, his voice thick. He leaned in, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your inner thigh, until his breath ghosted over your panties. You were already wet, the anticipation building since you'd dressed for him, and he could tell. “That thing where you’d sit your pretty little ass down on my face?”
Jay gripped your thighs with the force of a thousand suns, yanking you towards him as he sat on his knees on the bed. The action sent a sharp shiver scores your flesh, of arousal and deep affection. You’d only done that thing once before, refusing to do it ever again in fear that you’d break his neck. But the ever loving man your husband was—death by your thighs sounded positively spectacular.
“You’re gonna sit on my face and I’m gonna show you how sorry I am, yeah?” Your breath hitched at the command, but you nodded, shifting back on the bed as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the broad expanse of his chest and his carved muscles.
Jay laid down, propping his head on the pillows, and tugged at your hips. You straddled his face, the nightgown bunching around your waist, the garter still snug on your thigh.
“Seong, you sure?” You asked, you breath coming hard, “I don’t want to—”
His hands gripped your ass and Jay pulled you down until your pussy pressed against his mouth through the thin fabric of your panties.
“Jay!” You whined high at the sudden movement, grasping at his hair to support yourself. Now you were reminded of the reason you married this man.
Jay’s tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of you, and you gasped, one hand bracing on the headboard. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanked them aside, exposing your slick folds.
And then his mouth was on you, hot and insistent, his tongue lapping at your clit in broad, flat strokes. You moaned, rocking against him, the sensation overwhelming right from the start.
“Fuckkkk you taste exactly the same.” He murmured against your skin, “So damn sweet—feel like cherry pie darlin’.”
His tongue flattened and lapped at your dripping slit, dragging up from your entrance to your clit in one long stroke. The sensation hit you hard—wet heat sliding over your sensitive skin, making your hips buck involuntarily. Pleasure sparked through your core, sharp and insistent, your pussy clenching around nothing as you craved to be filled.
“Oh–oh Jay right there right there!” You cried, grinding down harder, thighs trembling as he sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue circling it with expert precision. He knew every inch of your pussy better than you did, and god did that make you want to marry him all over again.
“Thaaat’s it baby.” His own arousal spiked at you flooded his mouth with your slickness, “Ride my face like you mean it, gotta show my pretty wife how much I missed her.”
Jay was already rock hard, pre-cum leaking from his tip, obsessed with devouring your cunt before he claimed it. He was relentless, alternating between gentle licks and firm suction, slurp slurp slurp, his stubble scraping deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, and he groaned in approval, the sound rumbling through you.
It didn't take long for the pleasure to build, coiling tight in your belly. You were sensitive tonight, your body primed from the neglect of the past weeks, and Jay knew exactly how to push you. His hands kneaded your ass, one finger dipping lower to tease your entrance, sliding in just enough to make you whimper.
“Oh god—Jay I’m close.” But he already knew from the way your pussy was clenching like she was talking to him, “F-Feel so goooood…”
He hummed, not letting up, his tongue delving into you now, fucking you with it while his thumb rubbed your clit. The orgasm hit you like a wave against a sinking ship, your body shuddering as you cried out, pussy clenching around nothing. Jay kept licking, softer now but persistent, drawing out the aftershocks until they bordered on too much.
“Wait—ahh ah—Jay, too much!” You panted, trying to lift off of him, but his strong arms locked around your thighs, holding you in place.
“Not done apologizing yet, darling.” He said, his mouth latching back onto your clit.
He sucked harder, his tongue flicking rapidly, the overstimulation was making your nerves sing with a mix of pleasure and ache. Tears pricked your eyes as another climax built, faster this time, your body betraying you under his skilled assault.
“So damn sensitive.” He muttered, “Haven’t trained her enough, have I?”
“Could have if you were ever home.” You mumbled low enough, but of course your sharp-eared husband heard you, now sucking your clit into his mouth like a starved man, rolling it between his lips. You cried out, the suction pulling a fresh gush of wetness from you, which he lapped up greedily.
You came again, harder, your thighs clamping around his head as you sobbed his name. Still, he didn't relent, his tongue tracing lazy patterns over your swollen folds, lapping up your release like he couldn't get enough.
“Please….Jay—I can’t…’s too much Jay!” You begged, your voice breaking, but there was a bratty edge to it, a challenge because part of you wanted to see how far he'd go.
He finally released you, his face glistening with your arousal as you collapsed beside him, chest heaving. Jay wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction and something darker.
“You’re really gonna make me work for it huh darling?” His laugh was dark, and he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, pinning you beneath his weight, “This your revenge or somethin?”
The nightgown rode up completely now, the garter the only thing left between you and total exposure. Jay's hands roamed your body, rough and possessive, cupping your breasts through the silk before shoving the gown up to your neck. He leaned down, sucking a nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing just enough to make you arch.
“Maybe it is.” You bit your lip, nodding defiantly, though your body was still buzzing from the overstimulation, “You’ve got a lot to make up for, sheriff.”
You knew what it did to him when he heard you call him that. And you also knew what it got you.
“Brat.” He murmured against your skin, his hand sliding down to cup your pussy
You were soaked, sensitive from his earlier attentions, and his fingers slipped easily through your folds. He circled your clit once, twice, making you gasp, then pulled away just as the pleasure crested. “Brats don’t get to cum that easy, sweetheart.”
“Jay please…” You whined, hips bucking up, but he held you down, his palm pressing flat against your mound.
“Please what, beautiful?” He slapped your pussy lightly, the sting sending a jolt straight to your core. You yelped, the sensation sharp and arousing, your clit throbbing under the impact.
“Fuck me.” You demanded, your voice laced with that bratty tone you knew drove him wild, “Please fuck me, sheriff. I’ll be a good girl, I swear.”
“Begging already are we?” He slapped your clit again, harder this time, and you moaned, your legs spreading wider instinctively, “You sound just as angelic as you did our first time, my dearest.” His words ignited something within you. Jay had always been a poet.
Your husband stripped off the rest of his clothes, his cock now free, thick and hard, the tip already leaking pre-cum. He positioned himself between your legs, rubbing the head against your entrance, coating himself in your wetness.
With one thrust, he buried himself inside you, streeetching your walls around his girth. You cried out, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he bottomed out, his hips flush against yours. Pain lingered at the edges, a delicious sting that heightened the sensations, making every inch of him feel more intense, as he set a punishing rhythm.
Just right for a brat.
“Pussy’s made—hah—for me.” The words sent a thrill through you, your arousal spiking, wetness squelching around him, “Fits me like a fuckin’ glove.”
“Oh—ohhh so biggg.” You moan loud, your heart pounding against its cage. You certainly forgot how big your husband was, and he was certainly hell bent on reminding you.
He angled his thrusts, grinding his pelvis against your clit with every stroke, building you up fast. You felt the orgasm approaching, your pussy fluttering around him, but just as you teetered on the edge, he stopped, buried deep but completely still.
“Jayyyy.” You whined, trying to rock against him, but his weight pinned you down completely, “Don’t stop please.”
“What did I say baby?” His hand came down on your ass, the slap echoing in the room, your cheek blooming with head, “Brats don’t get to cum that easy.”
He pulled out almost entirely, then thrust back in, repeating the motion while his hand alternated slaps on your ass. Left cheek, right cheek, each one harder, making your skin tingle and your pussy clench around him. “You like that don’t you, my dirty darling? Gettin' wetter with every damn smack.”
“Harder Jay.” You taunted, pushing him further.
Jay's eyes flashed, and he flipped you onto your stomach briefly, yanking your hips up so you were on your knees. He slapped your ass again, the impacts raining down until it burned, then he reached between your legs and slapped your pussy directly, the wet smack making you jolt forward with a cry. The sting was intense, your clit pulsing, but it only heightened the need coiling inside you.
“On your back.” He ordered, flipping you once more, “Need to see my pretty pussy.”
He hooked your legs over his shoulders, as he drove back into you, the new angle letting him hit even deeper. His thrusts were brutal now, his cock pistoning in and out, the obscene sounds of skin slapping skin filling the room. You were close again, so so close, your walls gripping him like a vice.
“Jay—no!” He edged you again, slowing grinds just as you hovered on the brink.
“Beg for it baby.” He slapped your pussy once more, lighter this time, and then thrust particularly deep, “I’m afraid the sheriff will only let good girls get what they want.”
Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, the overstimulation from earlier making every sensation amplified. “Please, Jay…..need it so bad.” You were a pathetic, babbling mess beneath him, “I’ll be your good girl sheriff, I promise—ahh fuck!”
“That’s my girl.” But he didn't let you tip over, pulling back to edge you a third time, his hand coming down on your ass as he fucked you slow and deliberate.
“Can’t take it Jay—fuck.” You whined, squirming in his hold, “Please let me cum on your cock please, I’ll do anything."
And there it was.
What a beautiful woman his wife was.
Satisfaction crossed his face as he reached down, skilled fingers hooking under the silk garter on your thigh. With an achingly gentle tug, he slid it off, the lace dragging against your skin and sending shivers up your spine. He held it up, the white silk gleaming in the moonlight, then brought one end to his mouth, biting down on it gently. The other end he pressed to your lips.
“Bite.” Jay commanded, and you did, the silk muffling your moans as he thrust back into you.
Now in full missionary, your legs wrapped around his waist, he fucked you with long, powerful strokes, the garter stretched between your mouths like a intimate tether. Every time he bottomed out, the pull on the silk made you both groan, the fabric dampening with your shared breaths.
His pace quickened, hips snapping against yours with a violent force, his cock swelling inside you. The edging had you wound so tight that the first orgasm crashed over you almost immediately, your pussy spasming around him as you screamed into the garter. He didn't stop, pounding through it, the silk pulling taut as he leaned closer, his forehead against yours.
“Cum for me, my darling.” Jay moaned around the fabric, his hand slipping between you to rub your clit. The overstimulation hit full force, your body convulsing as a second climax ripped through you, harder than the first. You bit down on the garter, tasting the faint salt of his sweat mixed with the silk.
Jay followed soon after, his thrusts erratic as he buried himself deep, his cock pulsing as he filled you with hot spurts of cum. He released the garter from his mouth, tossing it aside, and collapsed onto you, both of you panting in the aftermath.
“Fucking hell.” Jay grunted, pulling out as slow as he could, cupping your cheek as he did. Your husband was a wildly dual natured man.
He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his breath steadying as the frenzy of passion ebbed away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of your shared exhaustion. Your body hummed with aftershocks, muscles loose and sated, the ache between your thighs a sweet reminder of how thoroughly he had claimed you.
“You alright, darling?” He collapsed beside you, immediately pulling you into his comforting hold, “Need anything? Water?”
‘No just—” You sunk into him, head on his chest as he ran his fingers through your hair, “—stay like this.”
Jay lifted a hand slowly, brushing a loose curl from your cheek. His fingers were rough and calloused, but his touch was ever so gentle.
“You’re really something, you know that?” He chuckled, “I don’t think you understand what you do to me, darling.”
You tried to laugh it off, but your throat felt tight. “I was starting to think I didn’t do much at all anymore.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and his hand stilled against your face.
“Hey,” He said immediately, firm but soft, “Don’t”
“I know it’s stupid but–”
“You think I stopped thinking about you?” Jay said, squeezing your hand, “I think about you every single day,” He said. “I think about getting home to you. I think about this house, about the porch, about you standing in the doorway.” His thumb brushed along your cheekbone. “I just…..stay away from you sometimes because I’m afraid.”
Your brows knit. “Afraid of what?”
“Burdening you.” Jay sighed, “I don’t want this damn job to reach you, my dearest.”
Your heart clenched at his words. Oh your sweet, sweet husband. Still that naive boy you married all those years ago.
“You think I married you for easy days?” You whispered, running your thumb over his knuckles. His lips twitched faintly.
“No,” He laughed. “You married me when I was just a fool with a borrowed suit.”
“And I’d do it again,” You said without hesitation, “Just promise me you’ll let me come to the station sometimes. It gets boring here.”
Jay considered it for a while, the moonlight falling into the room illuminating your face so perfectly.
“Only if you promise to stay safe.” He said, to which you nodded frantically, making him chuckle, “Although I don’t think I’ll get any work done with your pretty ass hanging around.”
“Good.” You giggled, “The town should know their sheriff has the ability to smile.”
“Only for you, darling.”
_______________________
“One of those chocolate madeleines please.” You slid two notes across the counter, “And I’ll take a cream puff as well.”
Behind the display case, your friend smiled sweetly at you. Flour dusted her cheek, and a streak of chocolate smudged near her wrist where she’d clearly tasted something mid-batch.
“Just those?” She asked lightly, tongs hovering over the tray.
“Hmm.” You hummed, watching her carefully take the goodies out and package it, “It's for my husband.”
“I figured.” She laughed, "Everything you bake goes into that man’s stomach. Tell him to save some for us too!” She leaned forward, “I was right about that garter, and I’m right about this.”
“First of all, someone's got to remind that man to eat.” You said, leaning your elbows on the counter, "Second of all…” You paused before smiling, “yeah you were right. Thank you honey.”
“Oh, I’m sure the whole town appreciates your dedication to the sheriff’s well-being.” She snorted softly.
You narrowed your eyes at her teasing tone, sticking a tongue out playfully, watching her fingers as she tied the ribbon neatly around the small brown box. The bakery smelled of melted chocolate and warm sugar, sunlight streaming through the front windows and catching the dust in the air.
You had just come from your sister’s bar across the street, after listening to her troubles about some or other cowboy who had been hanging around the bar. ‘Troubles’, you laughed at the thought, more like young love.
“You know,” She slid the box toward you, lowering her voice almost conspiratorially, “I tried something new today.”
“Should I be worried?” You arched a brow. You knew how much she loved to experiment, which often ended up in fire and smoke.
“It’s harmless,” She insisted. “Mostly.”
“Mostly?”
She reached beneath the counter and lifted a single cupcake onto a small porcelain plate. Pale frosting swirled high on top, a faint dusting of cinnamon and something darker speckled across it.
“And pray tell what is that?” You said, peering suspiciously at the poor cupcake.
“An experiment.” She said proudly. “Something that will…..have the same effect as that garter.”
You stared at the desert in front of you, and then flicked your gaze to her, scoffing. “You made a love potion?”
“It’s really subtle, I promise.” She grinned, “Plus I didn't have enough ingredients to make it the usual strength.”
You hesitated, eyeing the cupcake again. It looked innocent enough, almost too innocent. But the thought of walking into that sun-beaten station with something playful—something just for the two of you—made your heart flutter.
“Come on.” She said smoothly, “It doesn't hurt to have a little fun.”
“And you swear it’s not that strong?” Your friend nodded her head frantically, making you sigh and shrug your shoulders, “Alright then.”
“Yay!” She laughed, then carefully lifted the cupcake and placed it in a small white box separate from the others. “On the house,” she said.
“Absolutely not—”
“Consider it payment for that advice you gave me.” She said, “And also for making your husband my guinea pig.”
You laughed, and picked up your boxes, shooting her a wink before bidding her goodbye and stepping back out into the afternoon sun.
You stepped outside into the blaze of the desert afternoon, the heat wrapping around you like a living thing. The sky stretched endlessly blue overhead, the sun merciless and bright, pressing against your shoulders. The ground radiated warmth through the soles of your sandals as you walked.
Your knee-length dress, a soft cotton fitted at the waist and buttoned down the front, fluttered lightly around your legs as a dry breeze swept through. The skirt swayed, brushing against your calves as you walked, the scent of cocoa drifting faintly from the boxes in your hands.
You walked toward the sheriff’s station, just a block away, pulse picking up the closer you got. You told yourself it was just the heat.
In reality, it was the thought of his expression when you would walk in. The way his tired eyes would soften, the way he’d lean back in his chair, hat tipped aside, sleeves rolled up to reveal those beautiful forearms, the way he’d spread his legs just right, inviting you in.
God you wanted your husband so bad.
A bead of sweat trailed down your spine as you climbed the station steps, the wooden boards warm beneath your sandals. You paused at the door, taking a slow breath, adjusting the boxes so they wouldn’t tilt.
The desert sun blazed behind you, casting your shadow long across the threshold. Then you reached for the handle and stepped inside, the colder air of the building meeting your skin. The station smelled faintly of paper, dust and sun-warmed leather. Your sandals clicked softly against the wooden floor as you stepped fully inside, hearing the loud buzz of conversation soften a bit.
Two officers near the front desk looked up first, then another from behind a stack of reports. You offered them a warm, polite smile. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”
“Ma’am.” One of them said quickly, nearly knocking over his inkwell in the process. You had invited most of them to dinner at least once, fed them and listened to their stories.But had never once seen you here.
You felt their eyes linger, curiosity sweeping through you moved down the short hallway with steady steps, hips swaying slightly. Heat still clung to your skin from outside, leaving a faint flush along your collarbones, the thin ribbon at your waist accentuating the gentle curve of you.
At the end of the hallway sat his office, the door half open. You didn't bother to knock, just pushing it wider and stepping inside, closing it shut behind you.
Jay sat behind his desk, sleeves rolled up, oh god those forearms. His hat rested on the corner of the desk and a stack of papers lay scattered before him. His head was bent, brow furrowed in concentration.
“Afternoon, sheriff.” You said lightly, walking up to his desk like a mischievous child.
Jay looked up, and for a split second, all his senses crashed. His chair creaked faintly as he leaned back, eyes dragging slowly from your face down to your legs, and then back, resting briefly on the boxes.
“Well if it isn't the biggest criminal in town.” He said, voice shifting lower, legs already shifting apart, “You, ma’am are guilty of stealing my heart.”
You set the boxes carefully on the edge of his desk and took a step closer, resting your hands lightly on the wood. Jay leaned back further in his chair, boots planted wide, hands resting casually on the armrests. But there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at you.
“Do I have the right to remain silent, sheriff?” You walked around the desk slowly, your skin feeling warm. You could feel his eyes tracking every step, “Do I have the right to do this?”
And before Jay’s mind could process anything, you lowered yourself onto his lap, settling there quite comfortably.
“Careful darling.” His hands came up fast, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other against your back as he pulled you firmly against him, “You’re really testing the law here.”
Your fingers curled lightly into the fabric of his shirt, forehead brushing with his, the solid muscle of his thigh pressing up against the heat building between your legs. The office was quiet, the door firmly shut behind you, sealing out the rest of the station's bustle.
You could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the paperwork scattered across his desk, but all your focus was on the way his body tensed beneath you, his breath hitching as you shifted closer.
“And what’s my sentence, sheriff?” You asked.
“Hmm, let me think.” Jay said, voice a low rumble that vibrated through his chest into yours, “I suppose, life” One hand went up to stroke your cheek, “with me of course.”
You smiled, leaning in to brush your lips against his ear. “How do you expect me to change with such a tempting sentence?”
Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the crisp fabric of his shirt, the badge pinned there cool under your palm. You rocked your hips subtly, grinding against his thigh, and felt him harden instantly beneath you.
Jay's eyes darkened, one hand sliding up your back to tangle in your hair. “You’re going to be the death of me.” But he didn't push you away, pulling you closer instead, his other hand squeezing your ass through your skirt.
“I got you something.” You said gently, reaching behind for the boxes, opening the smaller one first, “A cupcake.”
“Are you attempting to bribe an officer, young lady?” He said, gaze dropping to the neckline of your dress, the curve of your shoulders, then back up to your eyes.
“A bribe you say?” You laughed, pulling out the small cupcake topped with thick, white cream. “Open up.”
His eyes didn’t drop to the pastry, staying on you. He leaned forward, taking a bite. The cream smeared slightly on his lower lip as he chewed, his tongue darting out to catch it. You watched, heat pooling in your core, as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.
“Mmm caramel?” He said, licking his lips, lord give you strength, “What’s the occasion?”
“Just wanted to treat my husband.” You scooped a bit of the remaining cream onto your finger, holding it out to him.
He didn't hesitate, capturing your finger between his lips, his tongue swirling around it slowly, sucking the cream off with deliberate strokes. The wet heat of his mouth made your pussy clench, imagining that gorgeous tongue elsewhere.
Jay's eyes locked on yours as he licked every trace, his suction firm, teeth grazing your skin lightly. “Tastes even better off you.” He released your fingers with a pop.
You brought your finger to your own mouth, sucking it clean, tasting the faint sweetness mixed with the salt of his saliva. You ground down harder on his thigh, the friction against your panties making you wetter, your skirt riding up slightly.
He groaned, his cock straining against his pants now, the outline visible as you shifted. Whatever was in that cupcake was working fast; you could feel the heat radiating from him, his grip tightening.
“Fuck….darling, what are you doing to me? I feel weird.” You smirked, popping the rest of the cupcake into your mouth, chewing slowly before swallowing.
“I’m not doing anything.” You hummed, your hands working at his belt, but he caught your wrists, shaking his head.
“Baby not here.” But his body betrayed him, hips bucking up slightly, pressing his thigh firmer against your aching pussy, The officers–”
“Just one Jay.” You released a soft whine, rocking faster, the seam of his pants rubbing your clit through the thin fabric, “Please?” Your breasts brushed his chest with each movement, nipples hardening under your blouse.
Jay's breath came in short bursts, his face flushing as the aphrodisiac surged through him. His cock throbbed visibly, begging for attention, but you ignored it, focusing on your own pleasure. You rode his thigh relentlessly, the pressure building, your juices soaking through your panties onto his uniform.
“Shit.” He hissed, one hand sliding under your skirt to cup your ass, urging you on. “You’re gonna make me lose my damn mind.” His other hand fumbled with his shirt, to unbutton it, but he stopped himself, glancing at the door.
“Let me make you feel good, sheriff.” You purred, leaning in to nip at his jaw. Your hips circled, grinding your swollen clit against him, chasing the edge but not quite tipping over. He was rock hard now, the aphrodisiac turning his arousal into something primal, his eyes glazed with need.
Just as you felt the first sparks of your orgasm flickering, a sharp knock echoed through the office. Both of you froze, your heart pounding.
“Sheriff? You in there?” A voice called from the other side—his fellow officer, sounding urgent.
“Fuck.” Jay cursed underneath his breath He lifted you off his lap in one swift motion, his strength making it effortless despite the haze of lust. “Under the desk. Now.”
You didn't argue, sliding off and dropping to your knees, crawling under the large wooden desk, his rough voice only increasing your arousal.
It was cramped, the space just big enough for you to tuck in, your face level with his crotch. The door creaked open as Jay adjusted himself, trying to hide the massive bulge.
“Come in.” Jay said, his voice strained but steady. He scooted his chair forward, blocking you from view, his boots framing your hiding spot.
You heard someone step inside, the door clicking shut behind him. “Sorry to bother you, boss. Got an update on that theft case from last night. Looks like it was kids, but we found some prints that don't match.”
Jay cleared his throat, his hand dropping under the desk to grip the armrest near you. “Tell me more.” But his focus shattered the moment your fingers tugged at his belt again. He shot you a warning glance downward, but you ignored it, unbuckling him quietly.
The zipper rasped softly as you pulled it down, fishing his cock out through the opening, thick and veined, the head flushed dark red and leaking pre-cum. The aphrodisiac had him impossibly hard, pulsing in your hand, hot as a brand. You wrapped your fingers around the base, stroking once, and Jay's thigh tensed beside you.
The officer droned on, oblivious. “We dusted the safe—got a thumbprint. Running it through the system now, but I think it's that punk from the diner. You know, the one with the tattoos?'
“Mm-hmm.” Jay managed, his voice tight. Why was your mouth so fucking hot?”
You leaned in, tongue flicking out to lap at the slit, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum. His cock jerked, and he shifted in his chair, one hand coming down to thread through your hair, not pushing but holding on for dear life.
You took him into your mouth slowly, lips stretching around his girth, tongue pressing flat against the underside as you slid down. Inch by delicious inch, you swallowed him, the musky scent of his arousal filling your senses. He was so thick, filling your mouth completely, the vein along the side throbbing against your tongue.
Jay's free hand gripped the edge of the desk above, knuckles white. “What….what else? Any witnesses?” His words came out clipped, breath hitching as you hollowed your cheeks and sucked particularly hard.
The officer paced a bit, papers rustling. “Some lady saw a truck leaving around midnight—a blue pickup, rusted fender. Matches that punk. We should bring him in for questioning.”
You bobbed your head, taking him deeper, your throat relaxing to accommodate his length. Saliva coated him, dripping down to your hand as you pumped what you couldn't fit.
The wet sounds were obscene, but muffled under the desk, drowned out by the officer’s voice. Jay's hips twitched involuntarily, fucking shallowly into your mouth, and you hummed around him, the vibration making him stifle a groan.
“Yeah, sound solid." Jay replied, his voice gravelly. “Pull him in first thing tomorrow.”
His fingers tightened in your hair, guiding you subtly, urging you faster. All his senses zeroed in on you—the slick heat of your mouth enveloping him, your tongue swirling around the head each time you pulled back, teasing the sensitive frenulum.
You could feel how close he was already, the aphrodisiac amplifying everything, his balls drawing tight against your chin as you deepthroated him. Your own pussy throbbed, neglected but aching from the earlier thigh-riding, juices trickling down your thighs.
You slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through your soaked panties, but focused on him, sucking harder, lips sealed tight.
The officer chuckled. “You okay, boss? Sound a bit off. Late night?”
Jay's laugh was forced and strained. “Just……paperwork. Keep going—what about the evidence?”
As the officer launched into details about logging the prints and securing the scene, you ramped up your pace, head moving furiously now, mouth a wet, tight vice around his beautiful cock.
You gagged softly once, twice, but pushed through, tears pricking your eyes from the effort. His pre-cum leaked steadily, coating your tongue, and you swallowed around him, milking him.
Jay's boot nudged your knee, a silent plea—stop. Or don't stop?
But his hand in your hair pulled you closer; every nerve in his body screamed from your mouth: the suction pulling at his shaft, your teeth grazing lightly, the way your throat constricted around the head. The office faded; the officer’s words blurred into white noise. All that existed was the hot, slick gliiide of your lips, the obscene slurp you made when you twisted your head.
“We need to cross-reference with the database from the last break-in.” The officer continued, leaning against the desk. “Might be connected. You think?”
“Absolutely.” Jay grunted, his abs clenching under his shirt.
You felt his cock swell, the telltale pulse starting at the base. You sucked harder, one hand cupping his balls, rolling them gently, feeling them tighten further.
The officer paused. “You sure you're alright?”
“Fine.” Jay bit out, his voice breaking on the edge. “Just... hot in here. Tell me about the truck—any plates?”
You knew he was seconds away. Your mouth worked relentlessly, tongue lashing the underside, saliva dripping onto the floor between his boots. His thighs quivered, the muscles jumping under your touch.
“No plates visible, but we'll check traffic cams.” He said, wrapping up. “You want me to handle the warrant?”
Jay's hand fisted in your hair, hips jerking forward as he came, hot ropes of cum flooding your mouth. You swallowed greedily, not spilling a drop, your throat working around him as he pulsed, groan muffled into a cough. “Yeah—do that. Good work.”
The officer straightened. “Thanks, boss. Get some rest—you look beat.” The door opened and closed, footsteps fading.
Jay slumped in his chair, cock still twitching in your mouth as you licked him clean, savoring the last spurts. He pulled you up gently, zipping himself with shaking hands, eyes wild with post-orgasm haze and lingering aphrodisiac fire.
“You little minx.” He panted, hauling you onto his lap again. His cock, still half-hard, pressed against your thigh. “What was in that cupcake?”
“That’s a secret I’m afraid.” You grinned, kissing him deeply, letting him taste himself on your tongue, “Round two sheriff?”
Jay’s hands roamed under your skirt, finding your drenched panties. He rocked you against his thigh again, the teasing reversed now, his fingers circling your clit as his payback began, the aphrodisiac still burning in his veins.
“I hope you don’t have anywhere to be today, darling.”
______________________
“You two are actually disgusting.” You sister scrunched her nose adorably as she took another swig of her beer
She was sprawled comfortably at the dining table, boots hooked around one of the chair legs, lazily tipping the bottle to her lips while she watched the two of you in the open kitchen like it was her evening entertainment.
Jay didn’t even try to look ashamed. You were standing between him and the counter, supposedly cutting slices of pecan pie. Supposedly.
In reality, his hand had found your waist about three minutes ago and hadn’t left, drawing shapes on your clothed skin and subtly kissing your neck, your back pressed to his chest.
“We’re married,” You pointed out sweetly.
“That doesn’t mean I need to witness it,” She replied flatly.
“What do you think sweetheart?” Jay leaned down slightly, his voice dropping just enough for you to feel it more than hear it. “Should we kick her out?”
You elbowed him lightly. “You invited her.”
He grinned. “Not to sit in my lap.”
“I can hear you.” Your sister gagged from the table.
“Good.” You turned, pie server in hand.
The kitchen smelled warm and sweet, sugar and toasted pecans filling the air. The last light of evening filtered in through the window, casting everything in a golden glow. Jay stood close behind you, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly mussed from the heat. He looked relaxed in a way he only did at home, his thumb tracing an absent pattern at your hip. You tried very hard not to lean back into him.
“Am I getting food anytime soon?” Your sister asked, “Or are you two going to keep being disgusting.”
Jay finally released you long enough for you to carry the pie to the table. He followed with three plates, entirely unbothered by her dramatics.
“If we’re disgusting,” He said mildly as he set the plates down, “you’re free to leave, sweetheart.”
“I was here first, Park.” She pointed her bottle at him, although accepting the plate gratefully, eyes already wide at the sight of your pie.
“You live across the street, sweetheart.” You reminded her.
“And yet somehow I’m still the third wheel in my own sister’s house.”
You sat down beside Jay, knees brushing his under the table. He casually draped his arm along the back of your chair like it belonged there…..which it did.
You slid a generous slice of pie onto your sister’s plate. “Eat up. It’ll distract you from your loneliness.”
“I'm sorry what.” She narrowed her eyes, “I am not lonely.”
“Oh?” You said lightly. “So you weren't staring at those cowboys riding past the bar yesterday with your mouth wide open?” Jay coughed into his fist, very badly disguising a laugh.
“I was not.” Your sister’s mouth formed into a pout, the familiar tactics she employed to get out of being scolded by you and Jay.
Jay leaned back in his chair, looking between the two of you like he was watching a particularly entertaining courtroom argument. “Which cowboys?” He asked casually.
“Nobody!” Your sister defended herself, pointing a fork at you, “Your wife is insane, don’t listen to her.”
“Hey now.” You laughed, leaning your face on your palm, “I’m just saying.”
“Hopefully it's not that bastard Sunghoon. Almost caught him today but he slipped away.” Jay sighed heavily and took a bite, “Last time he was in town I had to break up two fights and confiscate a stolen saddle.”
You grinned at your sister—she was never that great at keeping secrets and boy was this a big one. “Hear that? The sheriff disapproves.”
“I don’t disapprove,” Jay corrected calmly. “I just prefer when citizens don’t start saloon brawls every other week.”
“He did not start that fight,” Your sister snapped. Jay gave her a look, as if to ask how she knew and she quickly cleared her throat, “I was out that day and I saw what happened.”
“You sound very defensive for someone who isn’t staring.” You chuckled, titling your head at her.
She groaned. “You two are insufferable.”
“We’re just saying he’s trouble, sweetheart.” Jay smirked.
“You’re trouble,” She shot back.
“That’s different.” You and Jay said at the same time.
She blinked at the synchronized response and then shook her head in disbelief. “This is exactly what I mean. You’re like….a unit. It’s disturbing.” She crossed her arms and huffed, “And quit acting like I’m gonna run off with someone.”
“You wouldn't survive five miles into the desert.” You and Jay snorted, as he squeezed your shoulder lightly, “You’ll find someone soon enough sweetie.” You cooed at her, “Someone to soothe you and all that lovey stuff.”
“I don’t need soothing.”
“You need supervision.” Jay muttered.
“Honestly,” She said, taking a dramatic swig of her beer, “maybe you two should just have kids already.”
You loved your younger sister of course. But you had to admit she had a talent for saying stuff that could shut people up.
“What?” You blinked, feeling heat rise to your neck.
“So you’ll stop hovering over me like I’m fifteen.” She scoffed, glancing over at Jay who had his fork paused halfway to his mouth, “You guys baby me too much.” She continued, gesturing wildly. “You lecture me about my life and you monitor my bar. It’s exhausting.”
“We do not monitor your bar,” You protested.
Jay cleared his throat. “I occasionally ensure it remains… orderly.”
“Exactly!” She threw her hands up with a crude laugh. “If you had children, you’d be too busy to interfere in my life.” There was a brief silence.
You laughed first. “Oh yes, because raising children is famously relaxing.”
She pointed at you. “You’d be great at it.” The words were casual—offhand, something that one said every now and then.
But the way his blood rushed to his dick made Jay want to go outside and kick a tree.
There was a subtle shift in his posture; his knee pressed a fraction closer against yours under the table, his heartbeat, steady and calm just seconds ago—seemed to pick up when you glanced at him.
“You think we’d make good parents?” You asked lightly, though your pulse had quickened.
Your sister shrugged. “Obviously. You already act like it with me.” She stole another bite of pie, “You two would have the most well-behaved little outlaws,” She added.
“Outlaws?” Jay laughed, trying to sound stable, and like he wasn't thinking about every position he could put his child into you in.
“With her stubbornness and your personality?” She said, “Terrifying.”
You laughed, but your eyes were still on him. His gaze had softened in a way you hadn’t seen before. Jay’s hand slid down from the back of your chair to rest at your waist under the table. He didn’t say anything, as you leaned subtly into your husband’s side, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest— feeling the way his hand lingered at your waist just a second longer than usual.
It would be a long night indeed.
______________
It was all bruising kisses and harsh words as soon as your sister stepped out the door. Jay didn't even wait till she had crossed the street, to grab at your waist and lift you up, carrying you to the bedroom like one carried diamonds and other precious things,
The words ‘you’d make good parents’ had ignited something primal within him, and now with your sister gone, and the house left all to you two, he was going to unleash it.
Jay’s mouth crashed against yours in the hallway, teeth nipping at your lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp, his hands rough on your hips as he hoisted you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, skirt bunching up your thighs, and you felt the hard ridge of his erection pressing against your core through his jeans.
“You heard what she said, darling.” He moaned against your mouth, voice thick with need, “We’d make such good parents.”
You clung to his shoulders, nails digging into the fabric of his shirt, heart racing as he carried you down the hall. His strides were purposeful, possessive, each step jostling you against him, the friction making your panties dampen.
“Jay.” You breathed but he silenced you with another bruising kiss, tongue thrusting deep, claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it.
Your husband kicked the bedroom door open, the wood banging against the wall, and dumped you onto the bed with a controlled roughness that sent a thrill through you. You bounced once, skirt riding up to expose your thighs, and he was on you in an instant, looming over your body, his broad frame casting a shadow. His eyes raked over you, dark and hungry, hands already yanking at the hem of your blouse.
“Clothes off.” His voice was low and authoritative, “Let me see that pretty body.”
Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you obeyed, peeling off your blouse, unhooking your bra to let your breasts spill free. His gaze zeroed in on them, nipples hardening under the cool air and his stare.
You shimmied out of your skirt next, leaving you in just your panties, the fabric clinging to your arousal. Jay shed his shirt, revealing the taut muscles of his chest and abs, leading down to where his jeans strained obscenely.
He crawled onto the bed, caging you in with his arms, and started kissing you all over—not the harsh clashes from before, but slower, gentler presses of his lips that spoke of his reverence mixed with raw desire. He began at your neck, sucking lightly on the pulse point, teeth grazing just enough to mark without breaking skin.
“Need to worship this body.” He murmured, lips trailing down to your collarbone, nipping softly, “Before I pump you so fucking full with our child.”
Heat flooded your cheeks and between your legs at his words, the talk sending a fresh gush of wetness to your pussy. You arched into him as his mouth found your breast, tongue circling the nipple before he latched on, sucking hard enough to make you whimper.
“Ahh—Jay please…” His hand cupped the other, thumb rolling the peak, pinching just shy of pain. You gasped, fingers threading through his hair, holding him there.
He chuckled darkly against your skin, switching sides, lavishing the same attention while his free hand slid down your stomach, fingers splaying possessively over your lower abdomen.
“Please what, my dearest? Please fuck a baby into you?” His kisses continued lower, peppering your ribs, your navel, until he hooked his fingers in your panties and tugged them down your legs, exposing your slick folds, “Cause that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.” He settled between your thighs, shoulders nudging them wider, and pressed a soft kiss to your inner thigh, then another higher, closer to where you ached.
He stripped off his jeans and boxers in one go, veins bulging along his thick cock, the head already weeping pre-cum. He was so damn big, and it was intimidating even after all this time, and your pussy clenched at the sight, knowing how it would stretch you.
Jay stroked himself once, twice, eyes locked on yours as he positioned the tip at your entrance.
“Look at me darling.” His tone was sharp, even as his eyes were soft. “You ready for me?”
With that, he pushed in, the broad head breaching you slowly, inch by sublime inch, your walls fluttering around the invasion. You cried out, the burn of his size making your eyes water, hands fisting the sheets as he bottomed out, balls pressed against your ass.
“So tight—ahh fuck.” He groaned, holding still for a moment, forehead resting against yours, “Good little pussy’s made for me yeah?”
He started moving then, shallow thrusts that let you adjust, but soon deepened, hips snapping forward with controlled power. Each plunge hit deep, the angle brushing your g-spot, sending sparks up your spine. You wrapped your legs around him, heels digging into his back, urging him faster.
“Good girl, goood girl.” He panted, one hand bracing beside your head, the other gripping your thigh to spread you wider. “Feel how deep I am? Right where I need to be to breed you good, pretty girl.”
"Please, Jay—hah—please..." You begged, voice breathy and desperate as he pounded into you. "Need you to fill me up—ahh!”
Your words only seemed to spur him on further, his hips snapping forward with bruising force as he drove himself into you again and again. The hand on your thigh tightened, fingers digging into your soft flesh hard enough to leave marks.
His pace quickened, cock pistoning in and out, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside your moans. Jay leaned down to capture your lips in a messy kiss, tongue mirroring his thrusts, while his hand slipped between you to rub your clit in firm circles.
“Close close, I’m close!” You whimpered, nails raking down his back, as pleasure coiled in your lower belly.
“Cum for me.” Jay’s voice was rough, “God she’s squeezin’ me dry, darling.”
His fingers pressed harder on your clit, hips grinding deep on every thrust, and you shattered, orgasm hitting you like a truck. Your pussy convulsed around him, walls rippling, pulling him in as you cried out his name, body arching off the bed.
He didn't stop, fucking you through it, prolonging the bliss until you were oversensitive, twitching beneath him.
“Good girl.” He praised, slowing down just enough to let you catch your breath. But if you knew anything about your husband, he wasn't the kind to leave you alone after just one swig of ambrosia.
With a grunt, he pulled out, your pussy clenching emptily at the loss, but he was quick to manhandle you—throwing your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half until your knees brushed your chest. The mating press pinned you open, vulnerable, his cock nudging your entrance again.
“Look at you.” He said, eyes blazing as he sank back in, the new angle letting him go impossibly deeper, the head kissing your cervix. You gasped, the fullness bordering on too much, but the stretch ignited fresh arousal. “My beautiful wife.” He thrust in earnest now, powerful slams that rocked the bed.
You were trapped, unable to do more than take it, hands clutching his arms as he dominated you completely. “Jay—fuck, it's too much.” You sobbed, but your body betrayed you, hips tilting to meet him, chasing the building pressure.
“You can take it, my dearest.” He leaned down to peck at your forehead, “I know you can.”
His hand found your clit again, rubbing relentlessly, while the other braced your thigh, keeping you locked in place. The position made every thrust target your deepest spots, the friction on your g-spot unrelenting. Sweat slicked his skin, dripping onto your breasts as he pounded into you, grunts mixing with your cries.
“Tell me you want it.” He huffed, biting down a moan as he felt you squeeze around him, “Tell me you want me to cum inside.” He leaned down again to nip at your earlobe making you moan loud enough for the whole town to hear.
“N-Need it.” You whined, words tumbling out in a haze of ecstasy, “Need it so bad Jay—need you to fill me—ahh god—fill me up.”
His rhythm faltered at your plea, thrusts turning erratic, harder. “Fuck, that's my girl. Gonna pump you so full, you'll feel me leaking out for days, baby.”
Your second orgasm built faster this time, the overstimulation from the first amplifying everything, your pussy fluttering wildly around him.
“Cum with me.” He ordered, fingers pinching your clit. “Now.”
The command tipped you over, ecstasy ripping through you as you clenched down, screaming his name. Jay followed instantly, burying himself to the hilt, cock pulsing as he unleashed thick ropes of cum deep inside.
“Take it all.” His body shuddered with the force of his release, “Take every fucking drop.” He held you there, grinding against your cervix, ensuring every spurt coated your walls, breeding you thoroughly.
He stayed locked inside as you both came down, breaths mingling, his weight a comforting press. Slowly, he unfolded you, legs lowering gently, but he didn't pull out yet, keeping his softening cock plugging you.
“Stay like that.” He murmured, voice softening just a tad.
The harshness melted away entirely just as fast as it had settled earlier in the evening. Jay kissed you sweetly, lips brushing yours in feather-light touches, moving to your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids.
“Love you so much.” He whispered between kisses, hand stroking your hair, "Didn't hurt you did I?”
“You’re asking me that after all that.” You smiled, sated and cherished, pulling him closer as the warmth wrapped around you both, “I loved it, baby.”
It was very rare for the town to see their cold-hearted sheriff ever soften, or even smile—he was as constant as the northern star in their opinion.
How lucky you were to see his rueful grin, as he pressed his soft lips all over you. He was your husband after all.
Only yours, for now and for as long as the cicadas kept chirping their song.
ʚɞ summary - your first real crush was never supposed to look back at you. not when he was married, not when he was over ten years older, not when he kept saying no. but jay is divorced now, you’re all grown up, and once he finally gives in and looks at you the way you’ve wanted, it’s anything but innocent.
ʚɞ tags - 18+ MDNI, f!reader, reader is 23, jay is in his mid-30s, dom!jay, sub!reader, fingering, kitchen sex, unprotected sex, oral (m. receiving) penetration (p in v), creampie, breeding kink, degradation kink, oppa kink, grinding on a shoe, jealous!jay, possessive!jay, slight jealous!reader, aftercare, fluff
ʚɞ w.c - 13k
The sun beat down on the driveway, turning the concrete into a shimmering mirage. You squeezed the sponge, the soapy water running in rivulets down your arm and dripping from your elbow to the hot ground with a soft hiss. You were bent at the waist, ostensibly scrubbing the rear passenger door of your parents’ sensible sedan, but your focus was laser-sharp on the property line to your left. The fence was low, just chest-height, designed for neighborly chats.
You’d chosen the outfit with a precision even a military strategist would admire: faded denim booty shorts that hugged every curve, showed an indecent amount of thigh, and rode up with any movement, and a thin, white cotton tank top that you definitely hadn’t doused with the hose on purpose. It clung to you now, transparent in patches, the peaks of your nipples visible even through your bra. You’d seen Jay’s black Rolls-Royce pull into his driveway twenty minutes ago. The timing was perfect.
Just be casual. You’re just washing the car. Just being a super helpful daughter.
You heard his door open and shut. Your heart hammered against your ribs. You didn’t turn. You just bent over further, reaching for the hubcap, knowing the position showcased the full length of your legs and the round swell of your ass.
“Well, well, look who it is.”
His voice, deeper and more resonant than you remembered, sent a bolt of arousal straight through you. You straightened up slowly, turning with the sponge in your hand, forcing a smile you hoped looked surprised and not predatory.
“Jay! Hi. Yeah, just… you know. Earning my keep.” You gestured vaguely with the sponge, sending a droplet flying. It landed on your thigh and traced a slow, tantalizing path down your skin. Much to your dismay, his gaze remained trained on you.
Park Jongseong hadn’t changed much in four years. If anything, time had been kind, sanding away any softness and leaving behind sharper, more defined angles. His black hair was neatly styled, his jaw clean-shaven. He wore dark trousers and a crisp, light blue dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing forearms dusted with fine dark hair and corded with tendon. He looked like what he was: a successful salaryman in his mid-thirties. And he looked at you with a polite kind of curiosity that made you feel like you were seventeen with braces and a huge crush on him all over again.
“I heard you were back. Congratulations on graduating, kiddo.”
Kiddo. The word was a bucket of ice water. You felt your smile tighten. “Thanks. It’s…um. It’s good to be back. For the summer, anyway.”
“Only for the summer?” he asked. “What’s the plan? Back to the city after that?”
“Yeah,” you said, a little too eager to make conversation with him. “That’s the goal, at least. I want to move back once I find something. But the job market is, like, super rough. Everyone wants at least three years of experience for an entry-level position.”
He hummed, thoughtful. “That hasn’t changed.”
You huffed a quiet laugh. “Apparently not.” You stared down at your feet, suddenly self-conscious. “So, um. Yeah. This is just me trying to save a little money, I guess.”
“Mm, that’s smart. Get your bearings before you conquer the world.” He leaned against his car, crossing his arms. The motion pulled his shirt taut across his chest. “Your parents must be thrilled to have you home again.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” you joked lightly, squeezing the sponge again. “I think they forgot how much laundry one adult child can go through.”
He chuckled, brief and polite. “That checks out.”
There was a pause. The sun pressed down, cicadas buzzing somewhere in the trees, and suddenly you were acutely aware of how close he was standing, of how small the space felt between the fence and the car.
“Actually,” you said, glancing down at the suds collecting at your feet, then back up at him, “my mom mentioned something yesterday. About you. About… um. Next door.”
His brows lifted slightly. “She did?”
“Yeah. She said you’d been on your own for a while.” You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I didn’t… realize things had changed.”
He blinked, then understanding dawned. “Ah. The divorce.” He said it so casually, as if commenting on the weather. “Yeah, three years now. Your parents didn’t mention it before? Huh. Well, no hard feelings. We were young. Jumped into things too early, maybe. It was amicable.”
He delivered the information in a factual, unemotional way. You searched his face for any hint of pain, regret, anything that would make him seem more vulnerable, more reachable—but there was nothing but a mild, pleasant detachment.
“Oh,” you managed, your voice smaller than you wanted. “I’m… sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” He waved a hand, dismissing your concern along with his past marriage. “It’s life. We’re both fine. So, what was your degree in?”
The conversation was so normal, so utterly mundane, it was maddening. He was talking to you like you were the neighbor’s kid who’d gone off to camp and come back a little taller. The tank top might as well have been a potato sack. The shorts might as well have been snow pants. You answered his questions about your major, your vague career plans, all while your skin burned under the sun.
“Well, I should let you get back to it,” he said, pushing off his car. “Don’t want your dad thinking I’m distracting his little girl from her work.”
There it was again. Little girl. You wanted to scream. Instead, you squeezed the sponge so hard soap suds oozed between your fingers. “Yeah. Sure. Nice to see you, Jay.”
“You too, kiddo. Welcome back.”
He gave you a final, easy smile and turned, walking into his house without a backward glance. You stood there, dripping and furious, a knot of frustrated desire tightening low in your belly. The hope you’d sworn you wouldn’t entertain was now a live wire, sparking and dangerous. He was single. He was right there. And he still saw you as a child.
That night, lying in your childhood bed, the same bed where you’d spent countless nights five years ago fantasizing about your handsome new neighbor, the frustration metamorphosed into a raw, aching need. The memory of his rolled-up sleeves, the deep timbre of his voice. Your hand slid under the waistband of your sleep shorts. The cotton was soft, but your skin was softer, hotter. You imagined it was his hand, calloused and sure from work, not your own trembling fingers. You traced circles low on your stomach, then dipped lower, through the neat patch of hair. You were already wet, the slick evidence of your own pathetic longing. You let out a shaky breath, biting your lip to stay quiet as your parents’ soft snoring echoed down the hall.
You thought of him leaning against the car. You imagined him walking over, his polite smile fading into something darker. You pictured him taking the sponge from your hand, his fingers brushing yours. “You missed a spot,” he’d say, his voice dropping to a whisper. His hand, wet and soapy, would slide up your inner thigh, under the shorts…
Two fingers slid inside yourself, and you gasped, arching your back off the mattress. The fantasy crystallized. It was his fingers, thick and probing, curling inside you. It was his thumb rubbing tight, insistent circles against your clit. You moved your hand, setting a rhythm, your hips rising off the bed to meet your own touch. The images came faster, more vivid: his mouth on your neck, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car, his belt buckle digging into your stomach…
Pleasure coiled, tight and urgent. You pressed the heel of your hand harder against yourself, your breaths coming in short, sharp pants. Jay. Jay. Jay. The name was a silent mantra on your lips as the climax ripped through you, a wave of release that was immediately followed by a crushing wave of emptiness. You lay there, spent and slick, the fantasy evaporating and leaving behind the stark reality of your quiet room. It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. You needed him to see you. To want you.
The seduction campaign began in earnest the next day. Operation Seduce-Jay was a go.
You took your yoga mat to the most visible part of the backyard, right where the morning sun hit and where the sightlines from his kitchen window were unobstructed. You wore a sports bra and leggings so tight they felt like a second skin. You moved through your sun salutations with exaggerated grace, bending and stretching, holding downward dog for what felt like hours, knowing the position made the leggings strain across your ass. You saw his silhouette at the window once, just a dark shape, but he didn’t come out, and you finished your session vibrating with frustration, your body buzzing with unused energy.
A few days later, you “accidentally” locked yourself out. You walked to his door in just a short sundress and—you hoped—an innocent smile. “Jay, hi! So sorry to bother you. I was gardening and the door slammed shut… do you have the spare key my mom gave you?”
He opened the door, already dressed for work. His eyes did a quick, automatic scan down your body. The dress fell mid-thigh. Your legs were bare. For a glorious second, you saw something flicker in his dark eyes—a pause, a hesitation. Then it was gone, buried under a layer of neighborly concern.
“Of course, Y/N, come in.” He stepped aside, ushering you into a house that was impeccably clean and minimalist. He fetched the key from a hook by the door. “Here you go. Tell your mom her begonias are lookin’ great.”
“Thanks,” you said, taking the key, your fingers brushing his. A jolt. Did he feel it? His expression didn’t change. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“Any time.” He opened the door for you, the perfect gentleman. “Stay out of trouble.”
You baked chocolate chip cookies and brought them over, offering them with a story about practicing domestic skills. He accepted the plate with a grateful smile, called you ‘sweet’, and closed the door. You washed your car again, this time in a bikini top and cut-off jeans. He waved from his lawnmower, shouted, “Don’t forget the sunscreen!” and kept mowing.
The more he treated you with this infuriating, benign kindness, the more it became an aphrodisiac of sorts. Your desire curdled into something desperate and hungry, and your nighttime and shower rituals became a twice-daily release valve for the pressure building inside you. In the shower, with the water beating down on your back, you’d lean against the cool tiles and imagine him joining you. You pictured his hands, slick with soap, sliding over your breasts, cupping them, his thumbs brushing your nipples until they were hard peaks. You imagined him turning you around, bending you over, his hands gripping your hips as he—
The fantasies were so vivid and visceral that you could almost feel the ghost of his touch, the phantom pressure of his body. You’d come with a muffled cry against your arm, the water drowning out the sound, your legs trembling. Afterwards, leaning against the wall, breathless, the frustration would return, redoubled. It was a feedback loop of your own making: his indifference stoked the fire, and only fantasies of him could temporarily quench it, which only made the real-life indifference more unbearable.
A week after the car wash incident, you saw him struggling with a large, flat-pack furniture box on his driveway. It was a bookshelf, teetering dangerously as he tried to maneuver it alone.
Opportunity.
You jogged over, putting a little extra swing in your hips. You’d just come from a run and were still in your tight running shorts and a sleeveless vest, your skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat.
“Need a hand?” you asked, your voice bright.
He looked up, strain evident on his face. “Ah… it’s heavy, kiddo. I’ve got it.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m stronger than I look.” You didn’t wait for permission. You grabbed one end of the box, your fingers brushing his as you took the weight. The contact was electric. You saw his jaw tighten. “See? Lead the way.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Okay. Just to the living room. Slow and steady.”
Moving the box was an intimate, awkward dance. The space was confined, forcing you close. Your shoulder brushed his chest. Your hip bumped his thigh. With every shuffle-step, you were hyper-aware of the thin layers of fabric between your bodies.
“You’ve definitely gotten stronger,” he grunted, adjusting his grip. His forearm flexed next to your face.
“Told you,” you said, smiling up at him. You made sure to look him directly in the eyes, holding the gaze for a beat too long. “I’m not the scrawny high schooler you remember.”
He held your gaze, and for the first time, you saw a crack in his polite mask, a wariness. A reassessment. His eyes darted down to your lips, then back up, so fast you might have imagined it. But you knew you didn’t.
“No,” he said quietly, his voice a low rumble. “You’re not.”
It was the first acknowledgment, however small, that you were an adult. A woman. The words sent a thrill so intense it made your knees weak. You held onto the box for support.
You got the box into his living room and set it down with a collective groan. You were both breathing heavily. You straightened up, wiping your forehead with the back of your hand, letting your tank top ride up and expose a sliver of your stomach.
“Thanks,” he said, not looking at the box. He was looking at you. His gaze was different. It was no longer glancing; it was taking you in. The sweat on your collarbone, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the defined line of your waist where your shorts met your skin. The air in the room felt thick, charged.
“Any time,” you breathed. This was it. The moment. You took a half-step closer, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. You saw his eyes darken. His hands, which had been hanging at his sides, flexed slightly.
Then, he blinked. He took a deliberate step back, breaking the spell. He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture that seemed suddenly nervous. “I, uh… guess I should let you get back to your run. Don’t want to keep you.”
The dismissal was gentle, but it was a dismissal all the same. The whiplash from the heat in his eyes to the retreat in his posture left you reeling. The hope that had surged moments ago curdled into something bitter and sharp.
“Right,” you said, the word clipped. “My run.”
You didn’t wait for another ‘kiddo’. You turned and walked out of his house, the screen door slapping shut behind you.
The final straw came a few days later. You’d spent the morning concocting the most obvious, shameless scheme yet. The forecast called for a heatwave. Your parents were out for the entire day at a family friend’s anniversary party. The backyard sprinkler system was on a timer.
You dug out the red bikini you’d bought for a college spring break trip and never worn. It was minimal, scandalous, all triangles of fabric and strings. You laid a large, colorful beach towel in the center of the lawn, directly in the splash zone of the oscillating sprinkler. You positioned a pitcher of iced tea and a romance novel with a particularly lurid cover within easy reach.
At precisely 2 PM, as the sun reached its peak, the sprinklers kicked on with a chk-chk-chk. A fine, cool mist filled the air, catching the light. You walked out, the grass tickling your bare feet. You could feel the heat of Jay’s gaze before you even saw him. He was on his back deck, reading the newspaper. You didn’t look at him. You just walked to your towel, lay down on your stomach, and untied the back of your bikini top.
The sensation of the sun on your bare back, the intermittent spray of cool water from the sprinkler, was incredible. But it was nothing compared to the thrill of knowing he could be watching. You could almost feel it, and you arched your back slightly, letting the strings of the top dangle loose. You reached for your iced tea, the movement making your muscles flex, and took a long, slow drink, letting a few drops trail down your chin and onto your chest.
You waited. One minute. Two. Five. The suspense was agony. You heard the rustle of his newspaper. A chair scraping. Was he coming over? Was he finally going to break?
Then, you heard his back door open and shut. Not the screen door to the yard. The solid, interior door.
He was going inside.
A rage, hot and humiliating, boiled up in you. You sat up abruptly, clutching the loose bikini top to your chest. You stared at his empty deck. That was it. You were done. You’d paraded yourself in front of him like a prize heifer at a county fair, and he’d just—just gone inside! To do what? Watch golf? Balance his checkbook?
The frustration of the entire summer coalesced into a single, white-hot point. The sexual tension, once a thrilling game, was now a torture device. You were horny, aching, and so unbelievably mad you could scream. You stomped back into the house, not even bothering to retie your bikini. You let the top fall away as you slammed the kitchen door behind you, storming through the silent, empty house towards your room, your skin still damp with sprinkler water and the humiliating heat of utter, complete rejection.
The weekend arrived, a blistering, stagnant Saturday that felt like a physical extension of your frustration. Your parents had left that morning for a two-day trip to the coast, their cheerful “be good!” echoing in the suddenly cavernous house. Their absence should have felt like freedom, an opportunity. Instead, it felt like a taunt. The silence of the house was a mockery of the silence from next door. Jay hadn’t so much as glanced your way since the sprinkler incident three days prior, and you were so wound up you felt like you might snap. The horniness was a physical ache, a persistent throb between your legs that no amount of your own desperate, furious touching could satisfy. The fantasies had become stale, pathetic echoes that only highlighted the absence of the real thing. You needed something, anything, to shatter the tension coiling inside you.
But then your phone lit up—
It was Yunjin.
yunjinnie ♡: going to the club 2nite!!! u in?
You stared at the message. A club. Loud music, dark corners, bodies moving without thought. It was the exact opposite of the quiet, calculated siege you’d been waging on your own street, and a reckless, wild idea took root.
If Jay wouldn’t see you as a woman, you’d find someone who would. You’d prove it to yourself. And maybe, in some twisted way, you’d prove it to him.
you: duh, you typed back, your fingers trembling slightly. pick me up at ten.
The Uber dropped you and your two friends in the pulsing heart of the city after 11 PM. The club was a thrumming beast of bass and neon. You’d dressed for vengeance: a little black dress so short it was barely legal, the neckline plunging, the fabric clinging to every curve you had. You’d spent an hour on your makeup, smoky eyes and a dark, glossy lip. You looked nothing like the girl next door—no, you looked like a woman who knew what she wanted.
And for a few hours, you almost convinced yourself you were her.
The music was deafening, the crowd a sweaty, undulating mass. You drank the fruity, too-strong cocktails at the bar. You danced, losing yourself in the rhythm, letting your hips sway, your head fall back. You caught the eyes of men across the room. You held their gazes, you smiled, you turned away. The power was a heady, temporary drug.
His name was Leo, or maybe Liam—you didn’t quite catch it over the roar of the speakers. He was tall, with artfully messy brown hair and a smile that was all straight, white teeth. He’d sidled up to you on the dance floor, his hands finding your hips, his body moving in time with yours. He was handsome. He was interested. His gaze didn’t skate over you with polite detachment—it devoured you, lingering on the swell of your breasts above the dress, the length of your thighs.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he shouted into your ear, his breath warm and smelling of vodka.
A thrill went through you, sharp and validating. See? you thought savagely, your mind flicking to a certain neat house with a dark window. Someone wants me.
You let him pull you closer. You let his hands slide from your hips to the small of your back, then lower, palming your ass over the thin fabric of your dress. You didn’t stop him. You arched into the touch, a silent permission. His eyes darkened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Wanna get out of here?”
Your friends were lost in the crowd, paired off with their own conquests. The house was empty. The night was young. And you were so, so tired of being the one who waited, the one who hoped, the one who touched herself to the thought of a man who would never look her way.
Yes.
You nodded, the motion feeling both decisive and numb. You didn’t look back as you followed him through the crush of bodies, out into the relative quiet of the street. The humid night air hit your sweat-slicked skin, a shock after the club’s furnace. He hailed an Uber, his arm slung possessively around your shoulders.
The ride was a blur of streetlights and anticipation—he didn’t waste time. As soon as the car pulled away from the curb, his mouth was on yours. It was hungry, sloppy, all tongue and teeth and the too-sharp taste of his cologne. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, dragging down your neck, groping your breast roughly through your dress. You kissed him back, forcing enthusiasm, trying to lose yourself in the physicality of it.
But your mind, traitorously, wouldn’t switch off. As his mouth moved to your neck, sucking hard enough to make you gasp, you thought, A hickey. Good. The mark would be there tomorrow, a purple-black brand just below your jaw. Let Jay see that. Let him see that someone wanted me enough to mark me. It was a petty, vicious thought, and it gave you a twisted sliver of satisfaction.
Leo—Liam—whoever—moaned against your skin, his hand hiking up your dress to squeeze your bare thigh. “Fuck, you’re so hot,” he mumbled, his lips wet and roaming. “Can’t wait to get you into bed.”
You made a sound that was supposed to be agreement, but it got lost as the Uber pulled up to your dark, silent house. It was past 1 AM. The street was deserted, bathed in the sickly yellow glow of the old-fashioned streetlamps. The only light was the faint, blue flicker of a television behind the curtains of Jay’s living room window. He was still up.
Good, the vicious part of you thought again.
You fumbled with your keys at the front door, your fingers clumsy from alcohol and the relentless, distracting pressure of his body. He had you pinned against the wood, his hips grinding into your ass, his mouth working at that same spot on your neck, making the skin there feel swollen and tender. His breath was ragged in your ear.
“C’mon, baby, get it open,” he urged, his voice thick.
You finally slid the key into the lock. The click was loud in the quiet night. You pushed the door open, stumbling backward into the dark foyer, pulling him with you by his shirt collar. His hands were already on the thin straps of your dress, tugging them down your shoulders. The cool air of the house hit your overheated skin. You were a breath away from crossing a threshold, from making this pathetic rebellion real.
“Y/N? What the fuck are you doing?”
The voice sliced through the dim hallway, cold, hard, and utterly, terrifyingly familiar.
Your blood turned to ice. Your heart seemed to stop entirely, then slam against your ribcage like a trapped bird. You froze, your dress half-off one shoulder, Leo’s mouth still attached to your neck. You slowly, painfully, turned your head.
Jay stood in the arched doorway that led from the foyer to the living room. He wasn’t in pajamas. He wore dark sweatpants and a plain grey t-shirt that stretched across his chest, the sleeves tight around his biceps. He must’ve used the spare key. Your parents had probably told him to look after you, or something. His face was a mask of pure, unadulterated fury. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle leaping in his cheek. His dark eyes, usually so carefully neutral, blazed with an intensity that pinned you to the spot.
Leo—definitely Leo—jerked back from you, wiping his mouth. “Whoa, man, what’s your problem?”
Jay’s gaze didn’t even flicker towards him. It stayed locked on you, burning with a disgust that made your stomach plummet. “Get your hands off her,” he said, his voice low but carrying a vibration of threat that seemed to shake the walls. “Now.”
Leo, emboldened by alcohol and interrupted lust, puffed out his chest. “Hey, she invited me, alright? We’re just—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you were,” Jay cut him off, taking a single step forward. He wasn’t a large man in the bulky sense, but the sheer, controlled rage radiating from him made him seem to fill the entire space. His shoulders were set, his posture rigid. “You’re leaving. Get out.”
Leo blinked, the bravado starting to crack under the weight of Jay’s palpable anger. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who you think you are—”
“I’m the man telling you to get the hell off this property before I make you.” Jay’s tone was glacial, final. It wasn’t a shout. It was worse. It was a promise. “Go. Home.”
Something in Jay’s eyes, some flinty, dangerous certainty, got through Leo’s drunk haze. He looked from Jay’s furious face to your pale, shocked one. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, taking a stumbling step back towards the still-open front door. “Okay. Okay, Jesus. Sorry, man.” He shot you a quick, confused look, mouthing ‘call me’ before he vanished into the night.
The door swung shut with a soft, definitive click.
The silence that followed was absolute, and so much more oppressive than the noise of the club. You stood there, your dress askew, the hickey on your neck throbbing like a fresh wound. The adrenaline of the confrontation was ebbing, leaving behind a cold, creeping shame—and beneath it, a hot, searing anger. How dare he?
You finally found your voice, though it came out thin and shaky. “Why the hell did you do that?”
Jay turned his head slowly to look at you. The fury was still there, banked now but simmering just beneath the surface. “Y/N, that was so irresponsible.” He said your name like it was a curse. “Your parents not being home doesn’t mean you bring random guys you picked up at a club into your house. Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?”
The chiding tone, the sheer, infuriating concern. All the weeks of being called ‘kiddo’, of being ignored in bikinis, of having your offers thrown back in your face with a polite smile. You’d had enough.
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” you snapped. “And it’s none of your business!” You turned on your heel, the movement wobbly, and marched towards the kitchen, needing space, needing to get away from his judging eyes. You heard his footsteps behind you, quick and sure.
“I was just trying to look out for you, Y/N,” he said, following you into the dark kitchen. The only light came from the digital clock on the stove, casting the room in a faint green glow. “You don’t know what boys are like. You don’t know what they want from you—”
You whirled around, your back hitting the edge of the cold granite countertop. The impact jarred you, fueling your rage. “I know exactly what they’re like!” you shouted, the sound raw in the quiet house. “Jay, I’m not a kid anymore, for fuck’s sake! I know what he wanted from me, okay?” You took a heaving breath, the most humiliating, honest truth ripping out of you. “Is it so bad I wanted him to fuck me too? Huh?”
The words hung between you, filthy and stark in the dark.
Jay went very, very still. The anger on his face shifted, morphing into something more complex, more dangerous. He took a step closer, and then another, until he was standing right in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the clean, sober scent of him, so at odds with the club sweat and cheap cologne still clinging to your skin.
He scoffed, a low, derisive sound. “So you thought the best thing to do was find a boy at a fucking club and take him home with you?” His voice was a soft, deadly rasp. “That’s your solution?”
The condescension cracked the last of your restraint. You lifted your chin, meeting his blazing eyes head-on. “Yeah,” you shot back, your voice trembling with fury and something perilously close to tears. “So what? You weren’t gonna do it, were you?”
The moment the words left your mouth, you knew you’d crossed a line there was no coming back from.
Jay’s gaze dropped to your mouth, then to the lurid mark on your neck. A low, almost inaudible growl rumbled in his chest.
“You think that’s what this has been about?” he asked, his voice so quiet you had to strain to hear it. He took the final half-step, eliminating the last inch of space. His hands came up, not to touch you, but to plant themselves on the counter on either side of your hips, caging you in. Your body was flush against the cool granite, his torso just a breath away from yours. “You think I haven’t seen you?”
Your breath hitched. You couldn’t speak. You could only stare up at him, your heart hammering a frantic, terrified rhythm.
“I saw you,” he murmured, his head dipping so his lips were beside your ear. His breath was hot against your skin, raising goosebumps everywhere it touched. “In those fucking shorts, bent over that car. Dripping wet. I saw you on that yoga mat, every fucking stretch. I saw you in that bikini.” Each sentence was a soft, searing indictment. “I saw it all.”
He leaned back just enough to look you in the eyes again. His own were black pools in the dim light, devoid of any gentleness. “And you know what I did? I went inside. I closed the door. I took a cold shower. I read the goddamn financial section twice.” His jaw ticked. “Because you’re my neighbors’ daughter. Because you just graduated college. Because I’m supposed to be the responsible one. The adult.”
His words were a confession, but they were hurled at you like accusations. Every denial, every dismissal, recast as a brutal act of restraint.
“But you,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower, becoming a husky, intimate scrape against your nerve endings. “You didn’t make it easy, did you? Parading yourself around. Testing me.” His eyes flicked again to the hickey. A muscle in his neck corded. “And then you go and bring that home.”
He leaned in again, but this time, he didn’t speak near your ear. He brought his face to the side of your neck, right next to the mark that the other man had left. You felt the whisper-soft brush of his nose against your sensitive skin. It wasn’t a kiss. You shuddered violently, a whimper escaping your lips.
“Do you have any idea,” he breathed, the words vibrating against your throat, “how hard I’ve been holding back?”
The sound that left you was pure, undiluted need. All the fight drained out of you, replaced by a wave of such intense, shocking desire it left you weak. His large, warm body surrounded you, his heat seeping into your chilled skin, and you could feel the tension thrumming through him, a live wire of suppressed want that mirrored your own.
His nose traced a path from the hickey up to the hinge of your jaw. “You wanted some boy to fuck you?” he murmured, his lips so close they brushed your skin with every syllable. His voice was thick, laced with a possessiveness that made your knees buckle. “That’s what you were after? A quick, messy fuck?”
You couldn’t answer. You could only press yourself back against the counter, as if trying to escape the intensity of his proximity, but only succeeding in arching your chest closer to him.
He made another low sound. “You have no idea what you’re playing with.” One of his hands left the counter. He didn’t grab you. His fingers, warm and slightly rough, came up to lightly trace the line of your collarbone, exposed by your slipping dress strap. The touch was electric, a brand. “I’m not some college kid just looking to get his dick wet.”
His fingertips trailed down, over the swell of your breast, just above the neckline of your dress. You stopped breathing. Your nipples hardened into aching points, straining against the tight fabric.
“If I touch you,” he said, his voice now a dark, solemn vow in the dark, “it won’t be a game. It won’t be you trying to prove a point.” His hand slid around to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in the hair at your nape. It wasn’t a gentle hold. It was firm, anchoring. He forced your head back just a fraction, exposing your throat fully to him. “If I touch you, I’m going to ruin you for anyone else. Do you understand that, Y/N?”
His words should have scared you. They should have sent you running. Instead, you felt so desperate you thought you might die if he stepped away now. You managed a tiny, jerky nod, your eyes wide and fixed on his shadowed face.
He searched your eyes for a long, agonizing moment. Looking for hesitation. For fear. But he must have only found the same wild, reckless hunger that was tearing him apart, because with a groan that seemed ripped from the core of him, he finally gave in.
His mouth crashed down on yours.
It was nothing like the sloppy, impatient kiss in the Uber. This was a conquest, hard, hungry, and devastatingly skilled. His lips moved over yours with a ferocious certainty, his tongue sweeping into your mouth. The hand at your nape held you steady, while his other arm wrapped around your waist, yanking you flush against him. The feel of his hard, muscular body against yours, the proof of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, made you moan into his mouth.
He swallowed the sound, kissing you deeper, his tongue tangling with yours in a fierce, silent battle. It was all heat and pressure and the faint, tantalizing scrape of his teeth. He kissed you like he was starving, like he was trying to drink you in, to consume the weeks of frustration and denial in a single, searing act. Your hands, which had been limp at your sides, flew up to clutch at the solid planes of his back, your fingers digging into the muscle beneath his t-shirt.
He broke the kiss as suddenly as he’d started it, both of you gasping for air. His forehead rested against yours, his breath coming in ragged gusts against your lips. His eyes were closed, his features taut with strain. Then his mouth was on your neck again, but this time, it was on the unmarked side. His lips were hot and seeking, his tongue tasting your skin. Then his teeth scraped lightly over your pulse point, and you cried out, your head falling back against the cupboard behind you.
“This,” he growled against your skin, his breath scalding. “This is mine.” He sucked hard, a sharp, deliberate pain that melted instantly into a pooling, liquid heat between your legs. You knew he was leaving his own mark, erasing the other one, branding you as his. The possessiveness of it should have felt archaic, oppressive. It felt like absolution.
His mouth trailed lower, down over your collarbone, to the straining neckline of your dress. His free hand came up, his fingers hooking under the thin strap and dragging it down your arm, followed by the other. The top of your dress pooled at your waist, leaving you bare from the waist up in the cool, dark kitchen. The air prickled against your exposed skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his gaze as he looked down at you.
He went perfectly still, his eyes devouring the sight of your breasts, heaving with every ragged breath you took. “Christ,” he breathed, a reverent curse.
Then his head dipped, and his mouth closed over one taut, pebbled peak.
You gasped, a sharp, shattered sound. His tongue was hot and wet, laving over your nipple before he drew it deep into his mouth, sucking strongly. The sensation was so intense, so direct, it arrowed straight to your core, making you clench around nothing. Your fingers twisted in his hair, holding him to you. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same devastating attention, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud until you were writhing against him, little pleas falling from your lips.
He lifted his head, his lips glistening, his eyes black with lust. “You’ve been driving me out of my fucking mind,” he said, his voice guttural. He leaned in again, his mouth finding yours in a slower, deeper kiss that was all tongue and shared breath and desperate, building need. His hands moved to your hips, his fingers digging into the flesh there, and he lifted you effortlessly, setting you on the cold granite countertop. The shock of the cool surface against your bare thighs made you jolt, but then he was there, stepping between your legs, pushing them wider with his hips.
The thin fabric of your dress and your flimsy underwear were the only barriers left. He was so close you could feel the hard, thick length of him pressing against your damp center. You rocked against him instinctively, seeking friction, and a ragged groan tore from his throat.
“Tell me,” he demanded, his hands sliding up your bare thighs, pushing the bunched dress higher. His thumbs brushed the edges of your panties. “Tell me what you wanted that boy to do to you.”
His hands were on your bare thighs, his thumbs a hair’s breadth from the soaked fabric of your panties. The demand hung in the air, thick with the promise of humiliation and reward. You were laid bare on the cold granite, half-naked and utterly at his mercy, and the words he wanted were like ash in your mouth—but you wanted to give them to him. You needed to.
“I…” you started, your voice a breathy, broken thing. You swallowed, your throat dry. His dark eyes watched you, unwavering. “I wanted him to—to touch me.”
Jay’s expression didn’t change, but his thumbs began a slow, maddening stroke along the crease of your thighs, just outside the lace of your panties. “Too vague,” he chided, his voice low. “Be specific. What did you want his hands to do?”
The heat of his touch was a brand. You squirmed. “I wanted… his hands on me. Here.” You gestured weakly toward your core, cheeks burning.
“Here?” he murmured, and finally, finally, his hand slid up, his palm cupping you over your panties.
A sharp, punched-out gasp left you. The pressure was firm, deliberate, and the thin, damp fabric did nothing to mute the sensation. You could feel the heat of his hand searing through the lace, the rough texture of his palm.
“Like this?” he asked, his voice dangerously soft.
You nodded frantically, your hips canting up into his touch, seeking more. “Yeah,” you breathed out. “Yeah, just like that.”
“And then?” he prompted, his other hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from your fevered cheek. The gentleness of the gesture was at odds with the intensity in his eyes. “You brought him home. What did you want next?”
You were drowning in his gaze, in the scent of him, in the possessive pressure of his hand. The truth spilled out. “I wanted him to fuck me,” you whispered. “I wanted to not think. I just wanted to be—hngh—used.”
A low, dark sound rumbled in his chest. It wasn’t quite a laugh.“You wanted to be used,” he repeated, his fingers flexing against you, making you whimper. “By some boy who wouldn’t know what to do with you. Who wouldn’t know how to make it last.” He leaned in, his lips brushing yours as he spoke. “Who wouldn’t even know how to make you beg for it.”
His mouth captured yours again. It was hard, consuming, possessive, his tongue sweeping in. At the same time, his hand began to move. He rubbed you through your panties, the lace scratching deliciously against your swollen flesh with each slow, deliberate circle of his palm. You moaned into his mouth, a desperate, hungry sound. He swallowed it, his other hand sliding into your hair, holding you still for his kiss. He was everywhere, overwhelming all your senses. The taste of him, the feel of his hard body between your thighs, the scent of his skin, the pressure of his hand—it was a sensory assault that left you boneless and wanting.
He broke the kiss, trailing his lips down your jaw, to your neck, to the new mark he’d left. He kissed it softly, then bit down gently, making you cry out. “You wanted to be touched?” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. “You have no idea.” His hand on you became more insistent, the circles tighter, faster. The fabric was soaked through, a slick, hot barrier. “Is this what you needed? Hmm? This little bit of friction?”
“Jay,” you gasped, your head falling back. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, clutching the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You were already teetering on an edge, weeks of pent-up frustration coming undone under his skilled hand.
“Tell me,” he commanded, his voice a dark rasp in your ear. His mouth was on your neck again, kissing, sucking, marking you further as his hand worked you. “Tell me what you want now. Right now.”
You were beyond pride, beyond games. You were a live wire of need. “More,” you choked out, grinding yourself against his palm. “Please, Jay. I need more.”
He chuckled, the sound condescending and darkly thrilling. “More? You’re going to have to be a lot more specific than that, baby.” He slowed his hand to a torturous, teasing stroke. “Use your words. What does this greedy little pussy want?”
The vulgarity, the sheer meanness in his tone, sent a shock of pure, liquid heat straight to your core. You were so wet you could feel it begin to trickle down your thigh. “I want your hand,” you begged, the words tumbling out. “Under my panties. I want you to touch me, Jay, please touch me.”
“Good girl,” he purred, and the praise was like a drug.
His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties. In one smooth, ruthless motion, he dragged them down your thighs and let them fall to the floor. The cool air kissed your bare, exposed flesh, making you gasp, and then his hand was back, but this time, there was no barrier.
His touch was electric. His fingers, warm and slightly rough, slid through your slick folds with an intimate familiarity. A deep, guttural groan left him. “Fuck, you’re dripping.” He stroked you, gathering your wetness, spreading it, his touch agonizingly slow. “All this for me? After your little field trip?”
“Yes,” you whined, bucking your hips, trying to force his fingers where you needed them. “Only for you. It was always for you.”
He made a sound of dark satisfaction. His index finger circled your clit, a feather-light, maddening touch that had you seeing stars. You were panting, little punched-out noises—hngh, ngh, ah—escaping with every breath, grinding shamelessly against his hand, against the hard ridge of his cock still trapped in his sweatpants, anything for more friction.
“So eager,” he mused, his voice thick with lust. He watched your face, your desperate movements, with a predatory focus. “Can’t even control yourself, can you?” His finger dipped lower, sliding through your entrance, coating himself in your arousal, but not pushing in. “Is this what you do in your room at night? When you think no one can hear? You touch yourself and think of me?”
“Yes,” you sobbed, the admission torn from you. “Every night.”
“Pathetic,” he breathed, but there was no disgust in it, only a raw, hungry pride. Finally, he gave you what you craved. He pushed a single finger inside you, deep and slow.
Your cry echoed in the quiet kitchen. It was a stretch, a delicious, filling invasion. Your inner muscles clenched around him instantly, gripping his finger with a shocking tightness. He groaned, his forehead dropping to your shoulder. “Christ. You’re so fucking tight.” He began to move, a slow, deliberate pump in and out, his palm grinding against your clit with every thrust.
It was too much and not enough. The coil inside you was winding impossibly tight, your hips meeting every stroke of his finger.
Then he added a second finger.
You screamed, the stretch a blinding flash of pleasure-pain. He scissored them inside you, stretching you wider, curling them just right to brush that spot deep inside that made your vision blur at the edges. His thumb found your clit again, rubbing tight, fast circles.
“You’re going to come on my fingers,” he murmured into your ear, his own breath ragged. “Aren’t you? You’re going to scream for me and come all over my hand like a good girl, and then you’re going to get on your knees and show me just how grateful you are.”
Your orgasm made your whole body shake, your back bowing off the counter, a strangled, wordless scream tearing from your throat as you convulsed around his fingers, your walls milking them as wave after wave of electric pleasure crashed through you. It seemed to go on forever, your body shaking with the force of it, your cries dissolving into broken sobs.
He held you through it, his fingers still moving inside you, gentling now, drawing out every last shuddering pulse. When you finally went limp against the counter, he slowly withdrew his fingers. He brought them to his mouth, his dark eyes locked on yours, and slowly, deliberately, sucked them clean.
The obscenity of it made a fresh jolt of desire spear through your sated body. You watched, mesmerized, as he tasted you.
“Sweet,” he said, his voice raspy. He leaned down, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. When he pulled back, his eyes were blazing. “Now,” he said, his voice leaving no room for argument. “Get on your knees.”
A shiver of pure anticipation raced down your spine. You slid off the counter, your legs wobbling, but he caught you, his hands firm on your hips. He guided you down until you were kneeling on the cool tile floor of the kitchen, right between his feet. From here, you were eye-level with the prominent bulge straining against the front of his grey sweatpants. The sight made your mouth water.
He looked down at you, his expression a mix of fierce desire and dark amusement. “Were you going to suck him off?” he asked, his voice soft. “That boy. Were going to get on your knees for him in your pretty little dress?”
You shook your head, your eyes wide. “No, no—not him,” you vehemently denied. “Only you.”
“Prove it,” he said, the challenge clear.
Your hands trembled as you reached for the waistband of his sweatpants. You hooked your fingers in, and he didn’t help, just watched you, his hands now resting at his sides. You tugged, and the soft fabric slid down his hips, taking his boxer-briefs with them.
His cock sprang free, and you actually whimpered.
It was thick, long, and beautifully veined, the head flushed a deep, angry red and already wet with pre-cum. It curved upwards slightly, imposing and perfect. You’d fantasized about it, sure, but the reality was much, much better than any figment of your imagination. You almost drooled.
A low chuckle above you. “Fuckin’ cockslut.”
You looked up at Jay, your lips parted. He was watching you with a heated, expectant gaze, one hand coming to rest on the top of your head.
You didn’t need to be pushed. You leaned forward, your eyes locked with his, and pressed a soft, reverent kiss to the tip of his cock. You heard his sharp intake of breath.
Encouraged, you opened your mouth and took just the head inside, sucking gently. His fingers tightened in your hair. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive ridge, licking away the bitter-salt pre-cum, giving little kittenish licks along the underside. You were exploring him, worshiping him. Just the power of having this formidable, composed man at your mercy, even for a moment, was intoxicating.
“Fuck,” he breathed, his hips giving a tiny, involuntary jerk.
You took him deeper, relaxing your throat as you’d practiced in fantasies, letting his thick length slide into the wet heat of your mouth. You couldn’t take all of him, not yet, but you took as much as you could, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked. One of your hands came up to wrap around the base of him, stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.
He let out a string of low, guttural curses, his hand in your hair now guiding the pace. You followed his lead, bobbing your head, sucking him properly, the sounds lewd and wet in the silent kitchen. Fuck, it felt so good. You couldn’t help but be turned on by the act itself, by the weight of him on your tongue, by his groans of pleasure, and before you knew it, you began to move. Still on your knees, you started to rock your hips, grinding your aching, sensitive pussy against the hard leather of his shoe.
He noticed, of course. He looked down, saw the desperate, shameless movement, and he laughed. It was a dark, condescending, mean laugh. “Look at you, baby,” he said, his voice rough with lust. “Rutting against my shoe. You’re so fucking easy, Y/N.” he remarked incredulously.
His words were gasoline on the fire of your arousal. You moaned around his cock, the vibration making him curse again. You ground harder against his shoe, the pressure against your clit through the thin leather sending jolts of pleasure through your oversensitive body. You were close again, so close, just from sucking him and frotting against his shoe like a mindless slut.
You pulled off him with a wet pop, your lips swollen, a string of saliva connecting your mouth to his glistening cock. You were panting. “Do you—” you gasped, looking up at him through your lashes. “Do you want to fuck my mouth? You don’t have to hold back.”
His eyes darkened to near-black. A raw, hungry groan was torn from his chest. His hand tightened in your hair. “Open,” he commanded, his voice strained. “Wider.”
You obeyed, dropping your jaw, sticking your tongue out, presenting yourself. There was a wild, almost feral look in his eyes as he looked down at you, his cock in his hand, poised at your lips. Then he pushed forward with a firm, controlled thrust that buried his cock deep in your throat.
You gagged, tears springing to your eyes, but you forced yourself to relax, to take him. He held himself there for a moment, letting you adjust, his thumb stroking your cheek with faux-gentleness. Then he pulled back and thrust in again. And again. He set a relentless, deep rhythm, fucking your mouth in earnest, his hips pistoning, his grip on your hair keeping you perfectly in place.
The sounds were obscene—wet, guttural, choking sounds from you, groans from him. Tears streamed down your cheeks, but you didn’t try to stop him. You looked up at him, your eyes watering, and the sight of his face, taut with pleasure, his gaze locked on where he disappeared between your lips, was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. You brought your hands to his thighs, holding on as he used your mouth.
All the while, you kept grinding against his shoe, the rhythm of your hips matching the rhythm of his thrusts. The sensations—the fullness in your mouth, the pressure on your clit—were driving you insane. You were a mess of need, a tool for his pleasure, and you loved it.
You felt his rhythm stutter. His thrusts became harder, deeper, less controlled. “Gonna come,” he warned, his voice a ragged snarl.
You didn’t pull away. You looked up at him, pleading with your eyes, and took him even deeper, humming around his cock.
That was his undoing. With a half-growl, he came, hot jets of bitter salt flooding your throat. You swallowed desperately, gulping down every drop, not letting a single bit escape until he was spent, until he was softening in your mouth, his body shuddering with the aftershocks.
Only then did he gently pull himself free. You slumped back on your heels, panting, your lips bruised and wet, your throat sore. Your own climax had been cresting the whole time, and the frantic grinding against his shoe finally tipped you over the edge. With a choked, silent moan, you came again, your body convulsing as you soaked your own thighs and the floor beneath you, your orgasm somehow more intense for being so utterly debasing.
He looked down at you, kneeling in the stickiness of your own release, face tear-stained and mouth used, and he shook his head, a slow, condescending smile playing on his lips. “You came from that?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “From humping my shoe while I fucked your throat? You really are a desperate little whore.”
He reached down, his hands under your arms, and hauled you to your feet. Your legs were like jelly. He kissed you hard, tasting himself on your tongue, his hands roaming your bare back. “So fucking dirty,” he muttered against your lips, backing you up until your ass hit the cold granite counter again. He lifted you, seating you on the edge, and stepped back between your spread thighs.
His eyes were ravenous again, his cock, though spent, already beginning to harden once more. His gaze dropped to your glistening, swollen folds. “Look at you,” he murmured, his voice thick and full of awe. “You’re a complete mess, baby.”
He leaned in, kissing you hungrily, one hand coming down to cup you again. This time, he didn’t tease. He slipped two fingers back inside your soaked, sensitive cunt, his thumb finding your clit with unerring accuracy, and you cried out into his mouth, your body jerking. You were so sensitive it was almost painful, but at the same time, you couldn’t get enough.
He started fingering you again, his thrusts deep and sure, his thumb rubbing tight, relentless circles. “You’re still so greedy for it,” he observed, his lips trailing down your neck to your breasts. He took a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, as his fingers worked you. “Can’t get enough, can you? Are you going to take everything I give you? Hm? Gonna be my good girl?”
“Yes,” you moaned, your head thrown back, your hands clutching at his shoulders. Your moans were loud in his ear, heavy, panting breaths. “Jay, please, I need you. I need you so bad.”
“You need what?” he prompted, curling his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that made you see stars.
“I need you to fuck me,” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, Jay, fuck me. I need your cock inside me,” you sobbed. “I can’t wait anymore.”
He groaned, pulling his fingers free and resting his forehead against yours, his body trembling with the effort of his control. “I can’t, baby,” he said, his voice strained. “I don’t have a condom on me. I wasn’t exactly planning this.”
The denial was a physical blow. You whined, a high, pathetic sound, grinding your hips against his, feeling his renewed hardness press against your belly. “Please, I need it. I don’t care. I need you.”
He gripped your hips, holding you still. “It’s not safe, Y/N. I’m clean, but you—”
“I don’t care!” you cried, your desperation breaking through. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “I want you inside me. Raw.” you whined, too far gone to care what you were saying. “I need your cock in me, please.”
Jay let out a tense breath. “Yeah, baby?” he asked. You could almost feel his self-control slipping.
Your eyelashes fluttered as you canted your hips towards him again. “Hn—yeah, Jay,” you wrapped your arms around him, pressed your mouth to his ear as though you were about to tell him a secret. “Want you to come inside,” you whispered breathlessly. “Want you to put a baby in me.”
Your words, your utter, shameless abandon, were the final blow to his self-control. His eyes snapped to yours, wide and shocked for a split second before they darkened with a ferocious, primal hunger.
“Such a dirty fucking mouth,” he breathed, awe and lust warring in his voice. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
He reached between you, taking his thick, hard cock in his hand. He guided it to your entrance, the swollen head nudging against your slick, swollen folds. He rubbed it up and down, coating himself in your wetness, slapping the heavy length of it against your clit a few times, making you shiver and cry out with each sharp impact.
“You want it raw?” he growled, his eyes locked on yours. “Want me to fill you up?”
“Hngh—yeah—”
With a final, guttural curse, he positioned himself and thrust forward, burying himself inside you in one long, deep, searing stroke. The sensation of him filling your cunt, completely unhindered, was so profound it stole the air from your lungs. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, your eyes wide, as he seated himself to the hilt, his pelvis grinding against yours. There was a split second of pure, blinding stretch—a hot, perfect ache that bloomed into a consuming, liquid heat. You could feel everything, every ridge and vein, the throbbing pulse of him buried deep inside you. It was more intimate than anything you’d ever experienced before.
“Fuck,” Jay groaned, his voice a shattered rasp against your neck. His whole body shuddered, his arms trembling where they braced on the counter beside your hips. He didn’t move for a long moment, just stayed sheathed within you.“You’re… god, you’re so tight, baby. It’s so fucking hot.”
You finally remembered how to breathe, a ragged, choking gasp. Your inner muscles fluttered around him, a helpless, welcoming clench. “Jay,” you whimpered, your fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back. “Oppa.”
That broke his stillness. He pulled back, a slow, dragging retreat that made you cry out at the loss, then slammed back in. The force of it jolted you up the counter, your shoulders scraping the cold granite.
“Yeah,” he growled, his eyes dark and wild. “That’s it, good girl. Take it.” He drove into you, deep, hard thrusts that knocked the breath from you. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wider, holding you open for his relentless pace. The sound of skin slapping against skin, wet and obscene, filled the kitchen, mingling with your high, desperate whimpers and his guttural grunts.
It was too much. The weeks of frustrated longing, the humiliating attempts at seduction, the searing jealousy—all of it combusted into this. You couldn’t think, couldn’t form a coherent sentence—right now, you were nothing but a fucktoy for him, each thrust sparking white-hot pleasure deep in your belly, radiating out to your fingertips and toes.
He leaned over you, his mouth at your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “Look at you,” he snarled, his voice thick with a vicious, possessive delight. “Look what you’re doing. What would your parents say, huh? If they walked in right now?”
A fresh wave of heat, shameful and thrilling, washed over you. You moaned, your head thrashing side to side.
“They trusted me,” he continued, each word punctuated by a hard, deep stroke that made you see stars. “Their good neighbor. Keep an eye on our daughter while we’re out, Jay. Make sure she’s safe.” He laughed, a dark, humorless sound. “And here you are. Spreading your legs for me. Letting me fuck your slutty little cunt raw. Aren’t you?”
“Yes!” you sobbed, the admission torn from you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, trying to pull him deeper, to take more of him. “Yes, I am—ah—I’m your slut, please—”
“That’s right,” he hissed. He shifted his angle slightly, and on the next thrust, he hit a spot so deep and sensitive your vision blurred. A broken scream ripped from your throat. “Scream for me. Let the whole fucking neighborhood hear what a whore you are for oppa’s cock.”
You were babbling, a stream of filth and praise and pure, unadulterated need. “It feels so—hngh—good, Jay oppa, you’re so deep—hah—you’re gonna ruin me for anyone else, please—ah—don’t stop, fuck me harder, make me yours—”
He obliged, his pace becoming brutal, animalistic. The counter was rocking with the force of his thrusts. One of his hands left your thigh and fisted in your hair, pulling your head back to force you to look at him. His face was a mask of carnal intensity, sweat beading on his temple, his jaw clenched. “Mine?” he growled. “You want that, baby, wanna be mine? Want me to breed you, so everyone knows you’re mine?”
The words sent thrills of excitement and arousal down your spine. Your inner muscles convulsed around him, a prelude to an orgasm that was already building, getting closer and closer with every punishing stroke. “Yes,” you gasped, your mind fracturing. The thought, the dangerous, impossible thought, spilled out. “A-and then if you get me pregnant,” you smiled, dazed and cockdrunk. “You’ll—ah—have to make me your wife.”
He froze for a fraction of a second, his hips still buried deep within you, his eyes widening in stunned surprise. Then a slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. It wasn’t kind. “Yeah?” he rumbled, his voice dropping to a low, thrilling register. He began moving again, slower now, but with even more deliberate, grinding force, rotating his hips to press against that magical spot with every inch of his cock. “You wanna be oppa’s pretty little wife? Hmm? You’d like that? Wearing my ring while you walk around swollen with my kid?”
“Yes,” you mewled. “Please, Jay oppa, please.”
He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a searing, dominant kiss. When he broke it, his lips were against yours as he spoke. “You’d wait for me to come home every night? Have dinner ready?” His breath was hot against your mouth. “And then what, baby? You’d get on your knees the second I walked in the door? Or would you just bend over the table and let me take what’s mine?”
“Anything,” you promised, your voice trembling. “Anything you want. I’d be so good for you. I’d be so much better than her.”
The mention of his ex-wife slipped out, fueled by a sudden, fierce jealousy that cut through the pleasure haze. You felt him stiffen inside you again. His eyes searched yours, and you saw a flicker of something vulnerable before it was swallowed by a darker, hotter fire.
“Is that right, Y/N?” he murmured, his thrusts becoming deep, purposeful rolls of his hips that rubbed every nerve ending inside you just right. “You think you could be better?”
You nodded frantically, your nails scratching down his back. “Wouldn’t I?” you demanded, the possessiveness in your own voice surprising you. “Won’t I? Tell me I will.”
He laughed darkly then, a rich sound of satisfaction. He kissed you again. “Of course you will, baby,” he whispered against your lips, his tone shifting into something filthy and reassuring all at once. “You already are. Look at you. Taking my cock like you were made for it. Fuck.” His composure cracked on the last word as you clenched around him instinctively. “Fuck, oh—I’m close, baby. Are you sure? Are you sure you want this?”
You whimpered, your body trembling, your mind hazy and drunk on him, on everything he was giving you. “Yes, yes, please,” you begged, your voice a broken moan. Begging. That’s all you could do now. “I need it. I want it. Fill me up. I wanna feel you come inside me, wanna feel you dripping out of me later. Please—oh—don’t stop, don’t hold back. I’m yours, oppa, I’m all yours—”
His breath hitched, and you saw the conflict flicker in his eyes—the last shred of restraint warring with the dark, possessive hunger that had taken over. But with your words, your begging, your shameless need for him, he buried himself to the hilt, his hips grinding against yours. His hand slid between your sweat-slicked bodies, and he rubbed your clit unerring accuracy in fast, tight circles, the pressure perfect, relentless. At the same time, his thrusts became shorter, harder, frantic, losing all rhythm as he chased his own peak. It was the final trigger—the build-up inside you snapped, and your third orgasm of the night wracked your body, a supernova of pleasure. You screamed, a raw, continuous sound, as your body arched off the counter, convulsing around him, your inner walls fluttering and clenching in rapid, uncontrollable pulses, milking his cock.
The sensation of you clamping down on him, so tight and hot and wet was what made him finally let go. You felt it—the hot, pulsing release of him deep inside you, painting your walls. His head dropped to your shoulder, his breathing ragged, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. The feeling prolonged your own climax, drawing out the waves of pleasure until you were sobbing, oversensitive and utterly spent.
“God,” he muttered, his voice thick and rough against your skin. “You’re gonna feel me for hours, baby. You’re gonna remember this every time you move.”
“I really am,” you groaned, your head lolling back against the cool cupboard door, your body a soft, pleasantly ruined mess.
Jay’s soft chuckle vibrated through his chest, where your cheek was pressed. He was still inside you, softening, both of you sticky and spent and tangled together on the kitchen counter. His arms were looped loosely around your waist, holding you up more than you were holding yourself.
“Serves you right,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple. “Terrorized the neighborhood all summer.”
You pinched his side, but there was no strength in it. “You loved it.”
He didn’t deny it. Instead, he pulled back just enough to look at you. His expression was softer now, the fierce, possessive edge smoothed into something warm and sated. He looked more amused. He traced a finger down your cheek, catching a stray tear track from earlier. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Shut up,” you retorted, but you couldn’t help smiling.
He kissed you then. It was nothing like the earlier kisses—not the desperate crash of his mouth on yours in the hallway, nor the filthy, panting exchanges against the counter. This was slow and sweet and romantic. You sighed into it, melting against him all over again.
When he pulled away, you chased his lips for a second, making him laugh—a real, genuine laugh that crinkled the corners of his eyes. You’d never heard him laugh like that before. It did something funny to your chest.
“So clingy,” he teased, bumping his nose against yours.
“You just fucked me senseless on a kitchen counter. I think I’m allowed to be clingy,” you mumbled, grinning, your noses still touching.
He hummed, his hands sliding up your bare back in a slow, soothing stroke. “I did, didn’t I?” He said it with a note of wonder, as if he was just realizing it himself. “Your parents’ kitchen counter.”
A giggle bubbled out of you, absurd and giddy. “They eat breakfast here.”
Jay shook his head, laughing. “Oh my god, Y/N. Don’t. I’ll never be able to look your dad in the eye again after this.”
“He thinks you’re such a nice, responsible young man,” you said, doing a poor impression of your mother’s voice.
“Was,” Jay corrected, grinning. “Was a nice, responsible young man. Then his neighbor’s daughter decided to destroy his sanity with a pair of booty shorts.”
You swatted his arm. “As if. Until today, I thought you had the self-control of a saint.”
“Saint Jay,” he mused, kissing the tip of your nose. “Patron saint of cold showers and repressed desire. I should get a medal.”
“You just got your reward,” you said, shifting slightly and wincing at the sticky, oversensitive feeling between your thighs.
He noticed immediately, his expression shifting to one of gentle concern. “Alright, come on. Up you get.” He lifted you easily off the counter, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist again as he carried you like you weighed nothing. You yelped, clinging to his shoulders.
“I can walk!”
“Humor me,” he said dryly, navigating out of the kitchen and down the dark hallway towards the bathroom. “All you have to do is hang on, baby.”
He pushed the bathroom door open with his foot and set you down carefully on the closed toilet lid. The light he flicked on was mercifully dim. He rummaged in the cabinet, pulling out a clean washcloth. You sat there, watching him, feeling strangely shy now in the aftermath. You were naked except for the dress still tangled around your waist, covered in sweat and him and your own release. He was still mostly dressed, just his sweatpants and boxers around his ankles, his t-shirt rumpled.
He ran the washcloth under warm water, wringing it out. Then he knelt in front of you, his movements deliberate and tender. “Okay?” he asked softly, looking up at you.
You just nodded, words stuck in your throat.
He started gently, wiping the smudged makeup from under your eyes, cleaning the tear tracks. His touch was so careful, so at odds with the man who had just been snarling filth in your ear. He moved the cloth down your neck, cleaning the new, tender mark he’d left, then over your collarbones and shoulders. He cleaned your breasts with a sort of gentleness that was incredibly intimate, wiping away the sweat and the faint stickiness. You shivered.
“Cold?” he asked.
“Not really,” you admitted.
He smiled, a small, private thing, and pressed a kiss to your knee before continuing. He nudged your thighs apart and began cleaning between them, his touch light and respectful.
When he was done, he tossed the washcloth into the hamper and stood, offering you his hands. “Shower?” he suggested.
“You’re asking?” you teased, taking his hands and letting him pull you up.
“I’m trying to be a gentleman now. The monster has been sated,” he said, pulling his t-shirt over his head and finally kicking his pants the rest of the way off. You got a proper look at him—all taut muscle and smooth skin, dusted with dark hair. He was beautiful. He saw you looking and raised an eyebrow.
“Like what you see?”
“Maybe,” you giggled, stepping out of the puddle of your dress and letting it fall to the floor. You reached past him to turn on the shower, the pipes groaning to life.
He stepped in first, holding the curtain for you. The water was blissfully hot, and you both sighed as it cascaded over you, washing away the last physical remnants of the kitchen. He reached for the shampoo, pouring a generous amount into his palm.
“Turn around,” he said.
You complied, leaning back against his chest as his strong fingers worked the lather into your scalp. It was possibly the most luxurious feeling you’d ever experienced. His thumbs massaged your temples, then worked down the tense muscles of your neck and shoulders. You sighed, your head lolling back against him.
“You’re good at that.”
“I’ll have you know that I have many hidden talents,” he said, his voice a rumble against your back. He rinsed your hair carefully, shielding your eyes from the soap with his hand. Then he took the body wash, lathering up his hands before sliding them over your shoulders, down your arms, over your stomach, washing you with thorough, tender care.
“Your turn,” you said, turning around and taking the bottle from him.
You mimicked his actions, lathering your hands and washing his chest, his arms, his back as he turned for you. You scrubbed at the faint red marks your nails had left on his shoulders, and he chuckled. “Battle scars.”
“You started it,” you countered, soaping up your hands again and, with a bravado you didn’t entirely feel, sliding them down his stomach, to his hips, and taking him in hand. He was soft now, but you washed him gently, thoroughly, and he let out a soft, appreciative sigh, his head bowing to rest against yours under the spray.
“Feels nice,” he mumbled.
You finished, rinsing him off, and for a few minutes, you just stood there under the hot water, wrapped in each other, letting the steam and the warmth seep into your bones.
Finally, he turned off the water and reached for a towel, wrapping you in it first and rubbing you dry before briskly drying himself. He found two more towels for your hair. Back in your room, he dug through your drawers without asking, pulling out an old, soft t-shirt and a pair of sleep shorts for you, and borrowing a pair of your dad’s sweatpants he found in the laundry room for himself. They were comically short on him, hitting mid-calf.
You both collapsed onto your bed, the sheets cool and clean. He pulled you into his side, your head on his chest, his arm around you. The digital clock on your nightstand glowed 3:47 AM.
“So,” he said into the quiet darkness, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your arm. “Operation Seduce-Jay. Was it a success?”
You snorted. “I’d say it was a catastrophic, overwhelming success. I think you broke me.”
“You broke me,” he reminded you. “With your fuckin’ cookies. And the yoga. And that goddamn red bikini,” he sighed. “Should be illegal.”
“You went inside!”
“I had to!” he protested, laughing. “I was two seconds away from jumping the fence to get to you. I had to go read about municipal bond yields to calm down.”
You giggled, the absurdity of it all washing over you. “Ew, you’re such a dork.”
“And you are a menace.” He kissed the top of your head. “A beautiful, frustrating, incredibly sexy menace.”
You were quiet for a moment, listening to the steady beat of his heart. “What happens now?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.
He was silent for so long you thought he might have fallen asleep. Then, “Well, your parents get back tomorrow afternoon. So I should probably not be here when they arrive.”
Your heart sank a little. “Oh. Right.”
“But,” he continued, his voice thoughtful, “I was thinking. My aircon is making a weird noise. A rattling sound. Very concerning. I might need a second opinion on it.”
You lifted your head to look at him. He was smiling, a playful glint in his eye. “You need a technician.”
“I need a helpful neighbor,” he corrected. “Maybe tomorrow evening, after they’re back and settled, you could come over and listen to it? I’d make dinner. As a thank you.”
A slow smile spread across your face. “I don’t know anything about air conditioners, Jay.”
“That’s okay,” he said, pulling you closer. “We’ll look it up on YouTube.”
You laughed, burrowing back into his side. “That sounds like a very thorough plan.”
“I’m a very thorough guy,” he said, his voice growing sleepy. “As you’ve recently learned.”
You lay there together, in the quiet dark of your childhood room, and for the first time all summer, the aching, frantic need was gone. You lay there a little longer after that, listening to the house breathe around you—the faint tick of cooling pipes, the birds and insects outside, the steady rhythm of his breathing slowly evening out against your shoulder. It felt unreal, how ordinary it all was, how gentle.
Jay’s arm tightened around you in his sleep, and you stared into the dark and smiled to yourself.
Tomorrow, there would be a thousand practicalities to untangle: how to tell your parents without making it weird, how to explain the age gap without making it sound wrong, how to navigate dating when one of you still lived down the hall from their childhood bedroom and the other woke up early for meetings. But that was tomorrow, a distant land, far away from tonight, from this moment with Jay’s hair brushing your neck and his breath soft on your skin.
Because tonight, the summer finally felt complete.
