writingcold - Tumblr blog

writingcold · 3 days ago

Text

Okay. It's okay. The glacier moved a fraction of an inch, maybe he'll be human after all.

Gold Tastes Bitter: Chapter Eleven

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Y/n’s relationship with Jake slips beyond the safety of their arrangement, and when Y/n presses him for answers, his resolve to keep her at arm’s length falters under the weight of his own feelings.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings - power imbalance, sugar daddy/sugar baby arrangement, emotional conflict, tension, angst, heartbreak themes, implied violence, crime background, possessive behavior, intimacy (kissing.)

Disclaimer - the characters, events, and dynamics depicted are entirely fictional and not meant to reflect healthy relationship standards and should not be romanticized as models for real-life relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

a/n - for those who wanted them to have a conversation. this one’s for you! <3

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The shift between you and Jake was never announced, never spoken out loud, but it was there all the same. Weeks passed, and suddenly it became normal for you to spend your days at his house, waiting for him to come home, filling the silence with your presence until his key turned in the lock.

Jake let himself enjoy it. The easy laughter, the way you fit so seamlessly into his space, the way his place no longer felt so empty. But beneath it all, a quiet tension pressed at him. He knew this had slipped past the boundaries he had set, past the deal he thought he could keep neat and controlled.

And sooner or later, he’d have to talk to you about it.

Even though things between you and Jake had clearly shifted, what started as a sugar arrangement now feeling more like a real relationship, he never stopped keeping up his end of the deal. Every week, without fail, money still showed up from him.

It left you conflicted. On one hand, it was proof of how things began between you. On the other, it made you question what you were now. If this was romantic, if you were his in the way it seemed, why did he still treat it like a transaction?

You were still lost in that thought when the sound of the front door opening pulled you back. Quickly, you pushed yourself off the couch, a small smile tugging at your lips as you went to meet him.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

Jake leaned down, brushing a kiss against your mouth before shrugging off his jacket and hanging it on the rack.

“Busy day?” you asked softly, watching him nod as he crossed the room and sank onto the couch.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You nodded, sliding onto the couch beside him.

“What’d you do all day?”

“Nothing much. Cleaned up a bit around here.”

Jake exhaled, then caught your arm and tugged you gently onto his lap.

“I told you, you don’t have to do that.”

“I know.” You shrugged, settling against him like it was the most natural thing in the world. “That’s just the kind of thing you do… you know, when you’re with someone.”

Jake stilled, his jaw tightening. To you, it was a simple truth. To him, it was a line he wasn’t sure he could let you keep crossing.

Not even for his sake, but for yours.

“Hey.”

His eyes flicked to you.

“You okay? You kinda zoned out.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, too casually. “I’m fine.”

That afternoon, the two of you sat down for dinner like always. On the surface, it felt normal, routine, comfortable but you could sense the shift in him. The way he picked at his food, the way his gaze kept slipping away from yours. Jake looked nervous. Avoidant. Like something was pressing on him that he wasn’t ready to say.

After dinner, the two of you drifted over to the couch. Jake stretched out, pulling you into his arms until you were settled against him. The TV flickered in the background, sound low, more for company than anything else, neither of you actually watching.

His arm was around you, but it wasn’t as easy as it usually was. His grip was loose, distracted. Every now and then, his thumb stilled on your side instead of tracing lazy circles like it always did. He was there, but his mind was somewhere else.

He couldn’t stop his mind from spinning, no matter how tightly he held you against him. The warmth of your body pressed to his was dangerous, more dangerous than any job he’d ever taken. Because it wasn’t just comfort he felt. It was need. It was want. It was something close to peace, something he’d convinced himself he didn’t deserve.

But peace never lasted. Not in his world. He knew what happened to people who got too close to him, how quickly lives could unravel just from being in his orbit. He’d built walls around himself for a reason. Walls that kept blood on one side and innocence on the other. And yet here you were, slipping past them with ease, settling into his arms, his chest, his thoughts, as if you belonged there.

He had to find a way out. For your sake, not his. He could live with the loneliness, he always had. But he couldn’t live with the thought of you caught in the crossfire, of your name ever being linked to his. You didn’t know who he really was, what he really did. And you never would, not if he had anything to say about it.

Still, how did he undo this without shattering you? Without showing his hand and letting his feelings bleed through? Because God help him, he did care for you. More than he should. And every moment he let this continue was another thread tying you tighter to him, another risk he couldn’t afford.

He thought about the arrangement, the clean, simple deal that had started all this. Money for time. Transactional. Safe. That’s what he needed to steer it back to. A line in the sand that reminded both of you where this was supposed to end. If he could just hold that boundary, maybe you wouldn’t notice how much it killed him to do it. Maybe you’d hate him for it, maybe you’d walk away, but at least you’d be safe.

He told himself that’s what mattered most. Not his own desire, not the temptation of what could be if he let himself fall. Your safety. That was all. And if that meant sacrificing this fragile piece of happiness clawing its way into his life, then he would. Because better he broke his own heart now than risk yours being shattered later in ways you could never recover from.

And yet, as you breathed softly against him, so unaware of the war raging in his head, Jake tightened his hold. Just a little longer, he thought. Just one more night before he found the strength to let you go.

You tilted your head up at him, studying his sharp profile lit by the screen’s glow. His jaw was tight, his gaze fixed on nothing.

“You’re quiet,” you said softly.

Jake blinked, almost like you’d pulled him back down to earth. “Yeah,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “Just tired.”

But you didn’t buy it. You could feel it, something was weighing on him, and he was trying hard to keep it from you.

Maybe this was your moment to finally let it out, the thought that had been gnawing at you in the quiet spaces between his touch and his silence.

The money.

The transfers that still appeared in your account every week, as though nothing had changed. As though the kisses, the nights tangled together, the quiet domestic rituals you were building meant nothing more than the arrangement you started with.

It unsettled you. Confused you. Because everything in the way he held you, the way his eyes softened when they landed on you, told you that it had become something more. You felt it in the tenderness of his hands, in the way he lingered just a second too long when he said goodbye, in how he let himself be vulnerable in fleeting moments when he thought you weren’t paying attention. He felt it too, you were certain of it.

And yet, the money still came. Cold, impersonal. A reminder of how this began, and maybe, a warning that he still saw it that way. That despite all the warmth, despite the tenderness you swore you caught in him, he still wanted the safety of numbers over emotions. As if putting a price tag on your presence could shield him from admitting it was more.

You wondered if the money was his way of keeping control, of keeping a line drawn between you even as he kept crossing it. Maybe it was protection, for him or for you, you couldn’t tell. But it left you restless, questioning. If this was just transactional to him, why did it feel like so much more when you were with him? Why did it hurt every time the transfer notification lit up your phone, as if it reduced everything you had built together into nothing more than a purchase?

You wanted to believe it wasn’t like that anymore. That what you shared had moved beyond beginnings, beyond the deal that first tied you to him. You wanted to believe that the money didn’t matter, that it was just habit, or practicality, or some strange attempt at reassurance. But the truth was, it did matter. It mattered because it made you doubt, made you second-guess every tender word, every touch, every moment you swore carried something real.

And now, lying against him, the weight of that doubt pressed down on you harder than ever. Maybe it was time. Maybe you couldn’t keep carrying this question in silence.

You shifted on his lap, sitting up straighter. His hands instinctively slid to your waist, holding you steady, his brows knitting in confusion.

“I actually have something I need to ask,” you said quietly.

Jake gave a small nod, eyes fixed on yours. “Go on.”

“You’re still sending me money.”

“Yeah…” His answer was careful, almost too casual.

“Why?”

He straightened, grip on your waist tightening, hesitant. “That was our deal.”

“Deal?” you echoed, your tone carrying more weight than the single word.

Jake felt the pressure closing in. This was it. The opening he’d been avoiding. He could finally tell you the truth, set things straight before it went any deeper. But as he looked at you, your hopeful eyes searching his, his chest tightened.

The words stalled in his throat for a moment.

“That was the arrangement…” he said quietly, almost like he hated the words himself.

But they hit you like glass shattering in your chest. Arrangement. That’s all you were to him? A transaction dressed up as something more? Even after everything, the nights, the kisses, the tenderness, you were just company he was paying for.

“Oh…” The word slipped from you, small and hollow.

You started to push off his lap, the weight of it too much to bear. But Jake’s eyes went wide, panic flashing across his face as his arm snapped tight around your waist, holding you in place.

“Hey, wait. No. Don’t.” His voice was rough, urgent, like he was already regretting what he’d just said.

“Jake, stop. Let me go.” You shoved at his arm, twisting against him.

Instead of loosening, his hand slid up the length of your back, forcing you flush against his chest. His voice dropped, rough and urgent. “That came out wrong.”

You struggled again, but his grip only tightened, locking you in place like he was terrified you’d slip away if he let go for even a second.

“Listen to me.” His voice was low, steady, his gaze locked onto yours like he couldn’t afford to look away. He drew in a slow, heavy breath, bracing himself. “I care about you. I do. But—”

“But?” you cut him off, your chest tightening. “Why does there always have to be a—”

“Listen.” His grip on you tightened, grounding you, holding you still. “Don’t talk. Just hear me.”

You freeze, heart racing as his eyes lock onto yours, raw, conflicted, unguarded in a way you’ve never seen.

“I care about you,” Jake admits, the words sounding almost pained as they leave him. “More than I should. More than I planned to. But that’s exactly why this… us… it can’t go further than the arrangement.”

Your stomach twists, a dull ache spreading through your chest. “Why?”

His jaw clenches, thumb stroking absently at your side like he’s trying to soothe what he’s breaking. “Because if I let it go past that, if I let you in the way I want to, I put you in danger. You don’t understand the kind of life I live. And I won’t drag you into it.”

Your breath hitches, caught between anger and heartbreak.

Jake leans in, his forehead almost touching yours. “This is me protecting you. Even if it feels like I’m pushing you away.”

“Jake…” your voice is softer than you mean it to be, breathless but steady. Your fingers trail up from his chest to his jaw. “You don’t have to push me away.”

His jaw flexes under your touch, the muscle ticking as if he’s chewing on words he doesn’t dare let out. He shakes his head, the faintest movement, but you catch it. “You don’t understand,” he mutters, rough and low, as if his throat hurts with the words.

“I don’t need to understand everything,” you counter gently, your thumb brushing across his cheek. “All I know is you keep fighting this… fighting me. But it’s already here, Jake. You feel it too.”

You were right, and deep down, he knew it.

He couldn’t make sense of how you had gotten this far, this fast. He’d spent years building walls, convincing himself he didn’t need anyone, that the path he’d chosen left no room for softness. He had accepted that loneliness was the price.

And yet, here you were. Breaking through his defenses without even trying, pulling him off the course he thought he had cemented for himself. It terrified him, how easily you were unraveling him.

But what terrified him more was the truth he couldn’t push down anymore: he wanted this. He wanted you. No matter how dangerous, no matter how much it scared him, he couldn’t pretend he didn’t feel it.

When his gaze locked on you, it wasn’t just desire burning in his chest anymore, it was need. A dangerous kind of need. One that scared him more than any job, any weapon, any enemy ever could.

“Jake…” your voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it reached straight through him. You brushed your thumb across his jaw, and he leaned into it before he could stop himself. “We’re already here.”

He shut his eyes for a moment, as though it would help him find control again, but all he could feel was you. Your body warm against his, your touch far too gentle for the life he led. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that it was too much, too soon but the words died before they even formed.

“You don’t get it,” he rasped, his hand tightening on your waist like letting go would undo everything. “I wasn’t supposed to… this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t know how to do this without breaking it.”

“You don’t have to know how,” you murmured back, brushing your lips against his, coaxing him to give in. “You just have to let it happen.”

Jake’s chest heaved as he stared at you, torn in two. You were right, again. He had no safety net, no plan, nothing to catch him if this all fell apart. And still, here he was, already free-falling into you.

When he kissed you, it was slow. Almost reverent. Like he was memorizing the taste of your lips, the curve of your mouth, the sound of your breath catching. His hesitation lingered in the way his hands gripped you too tightly, like he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed this. But your fingers wove into his hair, pulling him deeper, telling him without words that you weren’t going anywhere.

You and Jake didn’t stop. The kiss carried on, deep and unrelenting, but even as your lips moved against his, his mind was a storm. No amount of closeness, no heat of your body pressed into his, could silence the war going on in his head.

Because what you were asking of him wasn’t small. It wasn’t casual. You weren’t demanding commitment in the way most people thought of it, not asking him to move you into his home, not talking rings, not whispering about families or futures. What you wanted was something far scarier.

You wanted his walls down. You wanted him, raw, unguarded, unhidden.

And for a man like Jake, that was more dangerous than any bullet he’d ever dodged.

He kissed you harder, almost desperate, as though he could keep you from slipping deeper into his heart if he just lost himself in the taste of you. But every second your hands smoothed over him, every time you breathed against his lips, every way you leaned in like you already belonged to him, he felt it. That slow unraveling he couldn’t control.

Jake cared for you. God, he cared more than he’d ever let himself care for anyone in years. That truth pulsed through every touch, every kiss, every look he gave you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. And yet, the care itself was terrifying. Because with it came risk. With it came weakness. And weakness had no place in his world.

But here you were, kissing him like you weren’t afraid. Holding him like he wasn’t a man built from scars and secrets. Whispering to him without words that you didn’t want the money, or the deal, or the arrangement anymore. You just wanted him.

Your lips didn’t leave his, and for a moment, Jake stopped fighting it. Stopped thinking about the dangers lurking on the edges of his life, about the lines he swore he’d never cross. All that mattered was the heat of your mouth, the softness of your touch, the way you fit against him like you’d been made to be there.

Maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to go sideways.

He let his hands explore, not in hunger but in reverence, like he was memorizing you. Your curves, your warmth, the way you leaned into his touch without hesitation. You trusted him, completely. That thought alone nearly undid him. Trust was something he didn’t deserve, not with the things he carried, but here you were handing it to him anyway.

His chest tightened as his mouth slowed against yours, the kisses softening even as his grip refused to let you go. For the first time in a long, brutal life, Jake let himself imagine. Imagine what it would be like to let someone in. To have this for real.

It was risky. Every instinct screamed at him that this was a bad idea. But with your lips moving against his, your hands sliding up into his hair, Jake silenced that voice. Just for now. Just for this.

Because maybe, for once in his life, he could stop being the man who pushed people away. Maybe he could let you stay.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

34 notes · View notes

writingcold · 3 days ago

Text

being smart has never stopped me from being a complete fucking idiot

138K notes · View notes

writingcold · 3 days ago

Text

too busy romanticizing vampirism to do anything else

742 notes · View notes

writingcold · 3 days ago

Text

there’s something very beautiful about being able to try again tomorrow

57K notes · View notes

writingcold · 4 days ago

Text

don’t abandon joy because it is brief. don’t commit to solitude because happiness is fleeting. it’s okay that good things do not last forever. it’s okay to simply enjoy a thing for as long as you have it.

18K notes · View notes

writingcold · 4 days ago

Text

Welcome to Chapter Five. We’re in Hopewell with Jake and things are falling into place for our couple quite nicely. It’s time to start meeting more of Jake’s ‘family’ and broadening our world.

Warnings: It’s a lot of world building in this chapter, but, vampires being vampires, dubious consent on biting/feeding, definitely no consent to feeding, whispers of angst and confused feelings, sparkle dick, sex, p in v, slightly rough, kinda dirty in the literal sense, thumb sucking, nudity, implied sex.

Word Count: Approximately 6300

I think @edgingthedarkness will agree, this was a fun chapter to write. Thank you to @katuschka for beta reading this, and thanks to @seenoversundown and @takenbythemadness for reading her through.

Chapter Five - Jake

Late evening fog was waltzing off the river, casting a rather romantic view from the porch. The globe lanterns that dotted the walking path below shed a golden glow in the gray murk and dark green of the night on the landscape. Indeed, even the pier held magic, giving little highlights to the lazy current of the black water below. Our table was dressed in a charcoal cloth with dark blue settings. The old fashioned oil lantern at the center breathed out thin golden light at the wisps of hair that curled against her skin and loved on the way her sweater lay low on her shoulder to expose her chest. And knowing that she was bare beneath it all… well.

“Good evening,” Mr. Absalom greeted, his broad face filled with warmth. “I trust that your stay has been good so far.”

He set down a glass of wine before Taylin before placing a solid, black ceramic low ball tumbler in front of me. She looked at it for a long moment, knowing that it was out of place with the table. Absalom was quick to set down a board of grilled breads and fruits and cheeses to turn her attention away from the cup that held a heating mechanism in the bottom of the bowl to keep the blood at a perfect 98 degrees. I took down my drink as she talked on about how beautiful the view was. I needed more. The blood thundered through my cells, my brain, but if I did not get more - soon - I was afraid to grab the next closest thing and I’m sure Taylin was not ready for my big reveal. My throat burned with need while my fangs itched with unwetted use.

I watched as Taylin tore a small piece of bread and lifted it to her mouth– her skin shimmered as she took her nourishment with a delight filled hum. I followed suit, though my mouth was filled with the taste of paste followed by a thick swallow around mass that I would have to bring up later like a cat with a hairball. I just needed to take enough to make her believe that I was human. Absalom arrived with the small Panzanella to share and another cup of blood for me; it would make the food go down a little easier. I forced myself to sip and hold the cup so she could not see the contents.

The entree of sea bass was before us when I realized she had turned her chin down, eyes away from me. There had been a shift - one that I had not noticed because of my own hunger. Her silence had drifted around her, through her, embraced her with a hesitancy. Her gaze would not rise above my chin as if refusing to reveal her thoughts to me.

“Taylin?” I asked, reaching across as Absalom refreshed our drinks.

She smiled up at my friend as he touched her arm, explaining the detail of the plate before her. In the silence that followed, she sat with her hands tucked in her lap. I waited until we were alone to once again try to touch her, call her attention back to me.

“What you said last night is catching up to me,” she said, still keeping herself tucked away.

“I said a lot of things last night,” I answered, still foggy on what exactly she was asking for.

“I suppose you sweep away a lot of women with this kind of treatment,” she remarked, voice void of her typical warmth. The tip of her tongue brushed against her bottom lip. “I am finding myself wanting to get carried away and I am just wondering if-”

I set my fork down, clearing my throat gruffly to cut her off. “I know what I want, Taylin. I’m not afraid of it and am not afraid to voice it.”

My chest ached at how her shoulders rose as if she was raising her guard. The shimmer of her aura bloomed with a hurt that was tugged back hard as if she could hide it.

“I have a tendency to rush ahead of what is in these situations,” she whispered. “It’s bit me one too many times.”

“What is it that you are looking for, Taylin? I know what I want - I said as much last night.” My briskness made her sit back, eyes up to me finally. “I want more of this - you and me.”

The corner of her mouth twisted as she nodded. “I like that idea, too.”

I watched as she relaxed. A moment of reassurance was all that was needed. She was back to that flirty thing wearing no undergarments with me knowing. I pretended to take a few bites of the lush looking sea bass. Taylin devoured it as if she had not eaten… Wait. She had not eaten save for a cup of coffee and a pastry in probably twenty four hours. I would need to be more mindful of that and take the care that she eats.

It was not like the night prior. I may have said I had flown in on the late afternoon flight, but I had actually gotten in at 4 AM, giving myself just enough time to close myself up in a hotel for the day and kill in the evening on my way to the hospital. To keep up the lie that I was on that evening flight, I had to linger outside in the parking lot, despite wanting to run right to her.

Was I honest with her in regards to what I was feeling? Yes. My waking dreams were filled with her. My darkest desires paled to what she fed me in our most private moments. Mr. Absalom returned with Ms. Wonder, both holding huge smiles as Taylin gushed over the meal and their kindness. Ms. Wonder’s large green eyes were on me with a sparkle that I dared not inquire about the meaning. The woman’s caramel skin quivered with an excitement that I had never witnessed. Taylin seemed to feed into that energy, asking questions of the woman while Mr. Absalom moved towards me with a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Have enough?” he asked in a hush that neither human could hear. When I nodded in answer, he shook his head just enough for me to see his disapproval. “I can bring more in a few hours. Can’t have you…”

“I’m fine,” I said, eyes flicking to Ms. Wonder as she looped Taylin’s arm with her own and started walking the length of the porch. Good sign. She liked very few people on this earth, so for her to accept Taylin? My heart would have swelled in my chest if it still beat.

“Jake…”

“I’ll sneak out and hunt late.”

Mr. Absalom’s eyes trailed after the two humans, his smile wide. “I like her, Jake. I like her a lot. I like you a whole lot more with her.”

His laugh drew the women’s gazes for a moment before they turned the corner with Ms. Wonder shooting a pointed look my way. Mr. Absalom’s love still had her humanness very much intact. She knew of our nature, knew what we needed to do to stay ‘alive’. But she loved her man with all of her being. Had loved him for fifteen years. Her barrier? Age. She wanted to live before she crossed. She wanted to look like Absalom’s wife without looking like she could be his daughter - her words, not mine. He had been turned when he was fifty five, life etched on his features with a kiss of silver that shot through his hair that ran above his right ear. As a 290 year old vampire, Mr. Absalom had commanded respect, but Ms. Wonder could level him with a simple twist of her grin and bat of her eyelashes. They were quite the pair.

“Romantic old fool,” I teased, but the warmth that followed his compliment meant the world.

“When do you plan on telling her?” he asked in a normal tone as the humans had finally drifted out of ear shot. “You’ve obviously fallen in love with the beauty.”

I grinned as I ran a nervous hand through my hair. “Yeah. She’s got me pretty much wrapped up, doesn’t she?”

He nodded, the sharp angle of his jaw relaxing and his eyes growing thoughtful. “Not an answer.”

I shook my head, listening for the women’s footfalls that were on the opposite side of the house. I could hear Ms. Wonder talking about her work on the florals for each house. She had taken the project and run headlong with it. I grinned as I brought my attention back to the vampire before me. “I know I need to sit down with her, but I want to enjoy this pretending a little while longer.”

“Bull shit - you’re scared.”

My lips hardened as I turned away from my friend. I could always count on the elder to call me out, even when I did not want to be. “Not the easiest of conversations, as you know.”

“Gotta be done, Jake.” The click and clank of the dishes being stacked filled the air around me. “Before too much longer.”

“It’s been so long, I can’t remember how to even go about it,” I said, leaning against the porch rail with my arms across my chest. “Last one was…”

“Chris,” Mr. Absalom sighed. “For you, it was Chris. How is he doing?”

“Good. It’s been more than a few months, but last I heard, he’s doing good.” Even I noticed how my tone softened around his name.

“How did you tell him?”

Mr. Absalom pushed on as if not taking note of my moment.

“I don’t think I ever heard that story,” the elder continued.

“He caught me mid-meal,” I sighed. “Kind of hard to explain away why I had my fangs in a man.”

“But, he loved you enough to stay, didn’t he? You need to just set her down and tell her. I was direct with Ms. Wonder and look at what happened.”

“I can’t wait fifteen years for her to decide if she wants to be with me.”

His eye roll alone made me laugh. “Next year. We’ve already planned it. She wants to get the resort established enough and a few other things, but next year, on her birthday.”

My thoughts warmed for him. Ms. Wonder would cross that line with style and grace and be an ever more shining jewel at her man’s side. “What are these ‘few other things’ she’s stuck on?”

His face scrunched up with a nervous laugh. I perked my eyebrow as he gathered up the stack of dishes and nodded at me to grab the silverware and glasses to follow him.

“She wants us to get married first. She wants us to marry here in the gardens.”

I watched as he disappeared inside, unable to make my feet move. Married. What a human gesture for Mr. Absalom to make for her. What would that vampire mind make of it - that bond that meant little to us on this side of the night? My head spun across the thought. Marriage? For a vampire - ridiculous. I let out a slow chuckle, but stopped. This was their choice, and it was guided by Ms. Wonder, someone that would take that bond into her new role like an ironclad agreement.

“It’s not like we’re asking that you make that kind of arrangement with your Taylin, Jake,” he called out from inside the kitchen.

I shuffled forward, still trying to make it work in my brain. “I don’t get it.”

“If it gets my love to understand I would so wholly commit to her, I would walk in the noontime sun, Jacob. This is important to her. That makes it important to me.”

“But you were married before-”

“Not to her. Not the same.” A serene patience swept over his expression as I set the cups into the deep sink. “We are not doing this before a holy man, but each other and our dearest friends. She wants me to turn her with all of your sorry asses as witnesses. And it’s a big year for her; turning 50, turning vampire.”

I grinned. Leave it to Ms. Wonder to turn such a moment into a public celebration. I found myself nodding, picturing the gardens all decorated up for a wedding. Truly, it would be a lovely affair. And suddenly, I could see it. I knew Mr. Absalom was projecting the image to me, but I also saw it with flourishes of my own and it was beyond perfect.

“There you are,” Ms. Wonder’s voice called from the servant’s hall.

“Here we are, my love,” he crooned, placing the last of the dishes into the massive washer.

My eyes snapped to Taylin and how her cheeks warmed with her blush. I could smell her blood from across the room and my thoughts faltered. I needed to feed on more than the few ounces that Mr. Absalom had slipped me during our meal. I felt his gaze rake over me as I struggled to rein myself back from the blood lust of hunger. I needed to be able to control this. I needed to be able to be with her without placing her life in jeopardy because my dumb ass couldn’t keep my hunger at bay.

“I’ll bring you something here,” Mr. Absalom said, again too hushed for human ears to hear. “No need to go out and leave your girl alone for too long.”

I grinned with a nod. “I owe you.”

“Shit yeah you do,” he came back with a laugh.

Mr. Absalom reached out his hands to his beautiful partner with a smile and coo that it was time to go home. Ms. Wonder touched the man’s hands before turning back to Taylin.

“I’ll see you tomorrow evening. It’s been such a pleasure,” she said with a smile and hug.

Taylin glanced at me across her shoulder as if wondering where I ever found such a creature. I just smiled as the couple said their boisterous goodbyes, leaving us alone. She shifted and I could feel her skin beneath my fingertips even though she was across the room.

“Want to go for a walk?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just walk the path with Ms. Wonder?”

“Well, Orena and I walked the front gardens,” she said with a touch of sass. “I would like to see the back gardens, and down by the river.”

She took a few steps towards me as I finished up draining the sinks, and drying my hands. “I can’t just bend you over the counter here and do what I want to?”

The smoke that crossed her eyes had me thickening in my trousers. “No. That would be rude. Commercial kitchen and all.”

The laugh that thrilled out of her hit me right in the slats and I found myself all the more smitten with her. She reached for my hand and led me back out to the porch. The fog was gaining momentum, kissing across the water and the opposite bank in silvery murk. The air was crisp as we moved down the winding garden path. I tried to be the gentleman and be respectful, but her ass, bare as it was under her skirt, swayed in such a manner that I could not keep my eyes from her. It started low in my chest - a growl that I could not stop, as we neared the boat house close to the pier. She barely glanced back when she heard it. There was a glint in her eye that broke my resolve. I grabbed her and thrust her up against the rough hewn wall of the building and a soft sigh fell from her as I studied her face. The plump of her cheek was silk beneath my fingertips.

“Do you know what you do to me?” I whispered against the nape of her neck. “Do you realize that you fucking haunt me– I walk around hard as hell just thinking about you. I fucking daydream through meetings.”

She gave no reaction to my words, just pressed her ass back against me. I groaned at the contact. She began to slowly grind back and I had to stop her with a hard grab of her hips.

“You want me now?” I asked, before nipping at her ear. “You want me in you? Licking you? Fucking you? Tell me, Taylin - how do you want me? On my knees? Bend you over? Up the damn wall…”

Her fingers pawed at the brittle latch on the door, swiping it open and turned just enough to tug me inside. Her lips smashed in mine, demanding entrance with her tongue as I wrapped my arms around her waist. I forced myself back, glancing around quickly before taking off my shirt and draping it over the edge of a dusty counter. I had seconds before she was on me again, and I swooned through our kiss. My fingers pulled up the skirt and I could smell her - all of her arousal as I lifted her up to the counter. I wanted to plunge face first into bliss, but she latched onto my shoulders. Her eyes were heavy with lust as I swirled a finger tip through her soaked folds.

“Get that cock out and fuck me, Jake,” she said, voice deep in her throat. “Fuck me now.”

I did what I was told. I freed myself enough to plow into her with a solid snap of my hips. The ripple of sound that bubbled from us filled my ears. The heat and squeeze of her pussy made me hiss, until I felt a fang tickle the corner of my mouth. Fuck. I was quick to search her face, but her eyes were rolled back to the ceiling. She had not seen my murder weapons. I shoved her sweater up around her neck, freeing her tits and clamped down on a nipple as she writhed on me. I slammed into her - over and over and over - setting a pace that I knew neither of us would last long, but damn if it didn’t cause us to turn into fucking animals for each other. The sloppy sound of skin and heat and sex thundered around me, but it was her fast gasping that was my fuel. The way her bottom lip quivered as she started to chase her high tightened my balls and forced my hand up to cup her face. She latched onto my thumb, swallowing it, rolling it across her tongue with a mewling that I could not ignore.

Taylin grew rigid as her walls clamped down hard. I moved brutally against her - probably harder than I should, but she took it - took me. I pounded her and she rewarded me with a fucking cum shot that lasted until I unraveled into her. My legs grew weak as I turned soft within her, still trying to find the silken friction of her. She buckled forward, her head coming down on my shoulder as I leaned us against the counter to balance better. Her breath was hot against my skin. I buried my hand into her hair and held tight to this creature that had no idea of what I was, but had captured my heart so completely.

“Jake?” she whispered as she tucked her hands around my neck.

I had to pretend that I was too out of breath to answer. Instead I tossed out a dull witted hmm.

“I think we ruined your shirt,” she sighed.

“Got lots of shirts,” I mumbled, kissing her bare shoulder.

“Jake?”

I grinned. My name on her mouth sent me nearly hard for her all over again. “Yeah, baby.”

“I know this might be the orgasm talking here, but,” she started, pressing her face into my neck to plant a kiss. “But I think I’m falling for you and it’s scaring me that it’s happening so fast. I just.. You don’t have to be there, but I need you to know—”

I pulled myself back to look into her very clear eyes. She meant it. Her aura shimmered with it. All I could do was nod before I kissed her. Not rough. Not filled with the urgency from moments before. Slow. Tender. A soft sound struck my ears and I realized that she was somewhere between a laugh and a cry. Yeah. My words would have just fucked it all up, so I resorted to touch and taste in showing her that I was in step with her.

As a one hundred and twenty two year old vampire, standing in the kitchen doing dishes to give some semblance of being a normal ‘human’ made me smile. Such a simple act to prove that I was a regular joe, despite there being employees who could take care of this the next morning. Nope. I was just a normal, everyday, hard working man who didn’t mind getting his hands dirty - well in this case, wet. And I didn’t mind doing dishes. I enjoyed the heat of the water, the quietness of the kitchen, the repetition of the chore itself.

Taylin’s voice, despite the distance, was crisp in my ears as she was talking to her colleague, Tamara, explaining that she was going to be out Monday. The woman’s cackle and blurt about being right and Taylin needing to be gone until Wednesday made me smirk and my cock stir. The breathy groan from her was enough to make me clench with a need to grind my naked member against the icy stainless steel of the sink basin. I was quick to deposit the last of the rinsed dishes before having to grab myself to calm the fuck down. Two nights of total nakedness had yet to train my dick to behave with her. My body wanted to pound her through the damn floor and into the earth as I shot my load into her writhing, hot cunt. It was becoming a struggle to not drive into her without the full force of my strength. My body wanted - needed - more than her human body could give me on its own, without mixing her blood into fucking her.

I poured two cups of coffee as Tamara, who was quickly becoming a favorite unknown ally, talked her into taking Tuesday off as well. Yeah. The smugness that burnt at my dead edges glowed brightly through the moment. Walking up the grand stairs with only the moonlight and outdoor lights to illuminate the expansive house, I heard her end the call when I deliberately made my feet sound on the stairs.

“Did you pick a movie yet?” I called out before I could startle her.

Just as I stepped into the suite, there was a fluster of bare thigh and a twirl of blankets. She was fluffing and shifting and slightly out of breath as if I had caught her doing something wrong. The bashful smile as the blanket slipped to reveal how her chest was rushing for breath sent shivers through my skin. Her tits were so pretty. I wanted to sink my teeth into the flesh and truly mark them as my own. She held up the corner to me after I deposited our mugs onto the coffee table, allowing me to see her bareness before I felt her heat surround my body as she guided me to rest my cheek to her thigh. Naughty girl.

The corner of my mouth curled as I placed a chaste kiss to her skin, though my fangs begged to coax the flesh open for a little taste. Blankets adjusted and comfortable, she started the movie with a soft hum she must have thought I would not hear.

“What’d you pick?” I asked, brushing my fingers up and down her calf muscle.

Oh. I knew the film in question. She paused her fingers in my hair as I looked up at her.

“This is all right, isn’t it?” she asked, her confidence ebbing away.

“Vampires?” I asked, brow raised.

“My inner sixteen year old might have jumped for joy a bit when I saw it was available,” she said, her voice light. “I think this one altered my brain a bit.”

“How so?” I asked, brushing my fingertips across her knee to elicit a little tickle.

Her eyes shone bright in the dark. There was a gleam of memory and nostalgia that was endearing. The movie played up the mythology of us, getting most everything wrong, of course. I supposed it was the romanticism that was the draw. She fidgeted with a corner of the blanket as if in debate with herself.

“I don’t know. Perhaps it was my first crush and realizing that being with a boy was more thrilling than just holding his hand,” she sighed. “I was a late bloomer. I didn’t really know anything, and here I watched this movie and to see Dracula in wolf form with Lucy… But the love story between the Prince and his Princess… Yeah.”

A nervous laugh erupted out of her as heat tinged her face and chest. She was so innocent. So beautiful. I couldn’t help but touch her face to draw her back to me.

“Stupid, I know.”

I shook my head no, but didn’t need to say anything as her attention was drawn back to the film.

“It must be about ten years since I’ve seen this,” she whispered, her tone dreamy. “How about you?”

“Well, it is a Coppola film, so, yes, I’ve seen it at some point,” I replied, turning onto my back to better watch her face.

“Movie snob,” she quipped, but her eyes did not stray from the screen.

I laughed. She was not wrong. I muttered through the strange insane asylum part with Joe Walsh screaming for ‘Master!’ and the bland Harker scenes that seemed like a wasted moment to truly show how conniving Dracula could be. The wives were ridiculous. The bit showing Drac climbing headfirst down the castle wall - well, that brought a smile to my face. Many could do that, including Kiran. Not such a feat when your fingers could find the smallest flaw in the wall to climb whichever way you wanted. And then the scene she mentioned… I heard her heart rate pick up. Total stupidity to think that vampires could change into animals, but it was sexy the way old Drac was biting into the cocktease’s thighs… oh.

I chanced a look up and sure as shit, Taylin’s cheeks were blazing. Biting. Biting as the character was being railed in the graveyard. Naughty girl indeed. So engrossed in the scene was she that she did not notice that I turned just enough to open her skin for a few drops of her blood to touch my tongue. Heaven. She was my heaven and she did not even know it.

The movie progressed. She continued to run her fingers through my hair, bunching it up when the intensity grew tighter. The scene where the men kill Lucy, well, my eyeroll couldn’t be bigger. Staking a vampire to their coffin meant only starvation until said stake was dislodged by the desiccation of the body. The body would continue to live and could thrive once more on the blood. Decapitation, sure. To remove the brain from any creature would mean death, but for the vampire, the body would writhe for eternity, unless the fools put the head where it should be in the first place. There was an instance way back where the fucker healed because his head was placed atop his shoulders when they buried him. So what could kill a creature like me?

One thing every movie did have was fire. Fire is the great cleanser, isn’t it? To burn us in the night - our time - is to chance that the flesh doesn’t totally burn and we can heal. It takes a shit ton of time and a lot of pain to return to normal, but it is possible. The best solution, what will cause total destruction of my kind? Set us ablaze in the light of day; we are dead beings after all. Doesn’t mean that we cannot move around during daylight hours. It’s not that we mimic death when the sun is in its celestial journey through the sky. And what happens when the sunlight touches us? Let’s just say SPF 1000 would not be enough to shield the skin from burn. We can survive for a limited time within the light. There’s a better chance to survive if it’s dawn or dusk, but most don’t risk going out then.

“Fucking really,” she grumbled, ripping my thoughts from the divergence of the film from actual vampire beings.

My eyes refocused on the screen. Dracula has Mina on the bed, showing her there is no ‘life’ in his body. Taylin bit the inside of her cheek for a moment, eyes squinted as the vampire dragged a fingernail across his chest for the woman to drink from him. Sexy. I liked it when she was lapping at my pecs and chest and…

“If a body needs a heartbeat to pump blood around to keep the body alive, then how is it that he has no heartbeat and yet, blood flows from his wound?” she asked in a tone that clearly showed that she had thought about this fact. “And sex - what the hell is he shooting if there’s no heartbeat to move blood around and ensure the organs are functioning? Hell - how the hell is he getting hard for that matter… And skin? Wouldn’t she know if he was the “undead” if he was so fucking cold?”

“I thought you liked this movie?” I asked, struggling over on how to keep my incredulous laugh from slipping out.

“I do. But seriously. Vampires in general… If there’s no heartbeat - how does the body survive?”

She was shaking her head. Here it was, the supposed romantic climax where Mina is accepting her love for the undead thing he was, and Taylin was questioning biology? Human biology was a moving, bioengineering feat of miracles taken for granted by most. Vampire biology… Well. It was just something you needed to suspend belief and I’ll leave it at that. I could trick her mind into thinking my flesh was warm. I could regulate my chest enough to make it appear I was breathing. I could act and do all the things a human could. I could get a hard assed boner enough to fuck her until she walked with a damn limp, if she was so concerned about sex.

I let her grumble through a fractured commentary that made me want to drag my lip up and show off my rather pretty fangs. There was more magic and wonder in this world than my fair Taylin could stomach, but I hoped to change that. I hoped to change that very soon.

She slept. Her hand tucked within mine and turned into her side, the light touched her just enough to make her appear angelic. My hunger burned under my skin and my brain was demanding I feed. The monster that was hidden was whispering to just turn her, feast upon her and turn her to finally fully satisfy my sex. Instead, I brushed her hair back, loving how silken the strands felt on my fingers.

Mr. Absalom’s deliberate singular foot fall on the porch brought me out of my focus of Taylin. I slipped from the sheets to tug on a pair of jeans as I listened to human movement that was filled with struggle. Absalom had picked a strong one for me with lots of fight. My grin grew as I bent to kiss her cheek before I stepped out of the bedroom. The house became a blur as I sped to the kitchen just as Absalom herded the muscular man inside. Oh, he was beautiful, this man. His body was a wall of toned muscle and tanned, lightly tattooed skin. His face glistened with a fear that I’m sure Absalom was manipulating with glee from the look in his eye. The man took no notice of me as I slipped behind him, taking in his scent that was dripping with boldness that hid a note of hesitation. I reached out and touched his soft hair that was not unlike the woman who slumbered above us.

“Who’s this little shit?” the man groused. “I didn’t agree to two of you fuckers. Fuck -”

Mr. Absalom smiled, allowing his fangs to be on display as the man found himself backed into a corner of stainless steel countertops. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth turned mute thanks to my willing it to be quiet. I looked him over like a steak in the grocery. I may have even drooled a bit as I brought my hand up over the rigid mass of his arm. The black and crimson of his aura held a knife point that stirred my thirst. He was a bad boy, indeed. I watched the panic rise in its startling blue eyes and savored the scent of it as it touched my tongue.

“Oh, Mr. Absalom. The vintage on this one,” I whispered, gripping his chin between my fingers to still him.

“It likes to harm and kill the ones who pay it for sex,” my friend replied as he started to withdraw. “It likes to rob them blind while they watch, then destroys their reputation once their funeral is announced.”

I forced a sympathetic expression as a mocking sound bubbled up from my throat. I couldn’t hold back any longer. I made eye contact and forced the thing to be still. It whimpered as I gently unbuttoned its shirt enough to expose the hard pulsing artery.

“You die my whore tonight,” I whispered as I drew it to me.

My fangs barely had to scrape the skin to open him up. The hot burst of life kissed my tongue and I latched on, welcoming the searing fluid into my icy body. I was vaguely aware that Absalom had moved away from me as I swooned over my meal. Drought after drought of raw, unfiltered power replenished my form. I pictured myself needing to desecrate the body and snap the bones open to take every last bit of blood and marrow from the fiend. It would be enough to last me days if I had the time… But…

Instead, I took what I could from it; forcing its heart to explode. I drew out the last of its life just to inflict one last moment of pain. I caught the body before it slid to the floor. Mr. Absalom already had the door to the far freezer open for me - the one where no human was allowed to touch, not even Ms. Wonder. There were two bodies in there already. I’d have to take the trash out to make fish food once my love was squarely back home in Charlottesville.

“Thank you, my friend,” I said, turning the water on at the wash station. “That was lovely.”

I scrubbed until the filth scent was off my skin. Mr. Absalom remained, much to my surprise. When I turned, he stood, arms crossed with a thoughtful expression.

“Taking Taylin home tomorrow night?” he asked simply.

I nodded.

He shook his head.

The silence stretched between us.

“Jake.”

“I know, I know,” I sighed. “But after tonight…”

He frowned.

“She doesn’t believe in vampires,” I admitted. “She finds the notion ridiculous. How am I supposed to tell her when she doesn’t believe in me in the first place?”

The words were out and I felt my body flush over it.

“I blame the damn internet,” Mr. Absalom rumbled. “It has sucked all the magic, all the imagination from them.”

I wiped at my hands and arms with a towel. “I’ll figure it out, I just need more time.”

“Well, you have one thing going for you,” he remarked, his expression stoic. “At least she’s not one of those sparkle dick girls.”

I laughed at the sentiment. He patted my shoulder and we parted with a quiet nod of appreciation. As I moved through the stillness of the house, I could hear Taylin’s heart in my ears. Soft, strong, rhythmic pounding that I realized I would miss when it was gone. I had missed the sound of Chris’ driving pulse of life; the only one that I had ever turned. I had wept over the absence of drumbeat and breath within his body. Perhaps it was not just her disbelief in my own world that was holding me back, but the knowing that I would have to slog through the grief of her loss of her very beautiful life. I would have to accept that I was responsible for the loss of her light. It was selfish to think that we would just continue on this dance of love without a backwards glance of her grace. Perhaps that was repressing my admission more than what I was prepared to admit.

The scent of her warmth filled me as I returned to the bedroom with a glass of water. She rolled with a sleepy sound. I hushed her as I lay back down.

“Where’d you go?” she whispered, tucking back into my side. “I got cold.”

“Just needed a drink of water, love,” I answered, tucking the blanket around her.

“Love you, too…”

Though I know she said it in her sleep, I could not help the heat that seared my brain. I was not ready to mourn the loss of her spirit just yet to bring her to me. I snuggled down into her and was good with pretending to be human for a little while longer.

Well. Hope you enjoyed today’s chapter. Next up, we are back in Narin’s head.

If you would like to be tagged, let us know, or find the tag list here

@demolitiondanchipsversion @jake-whatthefisgoingon-kiszka @tripthedharmadivine @irenereedcane-mamagreta @jazzyfigz

@sinarainbows @vanfleeter @justwantjosh @sacredsparrow @josh-iamyour-mama

@gvfmarge @joshylanefleet @lizzys-sunflower @sanguinebats @psychedelectable

@beebloopbleep @its-interesting-van-kleep @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @lvnterninthenight @thewritingbeforesunrise

13 notes · View notes

writingcold · 5 days ago

Text

trying desperately to believe there is something broken with that man and and and and and it's not going to be y/n's ruin. fucker.

Gold Tastes Bitter: Chapter Ten

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Faced with Jake at her door after days of silence, Y/n is forced to confront the blurred lines of their arrangement.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings - 18+!!!, oral sex, f!receiving, penetrative rough sex, praise/dirty talk, light pain, possessive behavior, emotional conflict, themes of secrecy, angst, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship

Disclaimer - this story explores dark, unhealthy relationship dynamics. it is not intended to reflect or promote real-life standards of love, respect, or consent. it also does not promote or glamorize sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

You froze, rooted to the spot.

Of all the scenarios you’d run through in your head, you hadn’t expected him to show up here. Not now. Not like this. The air felt thin in your lungs as your gaze locked with his, for the first time since that night. Words refused to come.

“Can I come in?” His voice was low, measured, but there was a weight behind it that made your stomach twist.

Your lips parted, but all you could manage was a whisper. “I… I don’t know.”

A flicker of frustration crossed his features, softened almost instantly by something else. A sigh.

“Y/n,” he said gently, “we need to talk.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, willing your pulse to slow. He was right. You couldn’t avoid this forever, no matter how much it scared you. Drawing in a shaky breath, you stepped aside, the quietest surrender, and allowed him into your apartment.

You closed the door quietly, trailing after him but keeping several careful steps between you.

“You haven’t answered any of my texts.” He turned, his gaze heavy, searching yours.

You exhaled sharply, folding your arms across your chest like armor.

“That’s the second time you’ve done that,” he murmured, eyes flicking to the defensive gesture.

Your voice was flat, edged. “Do any of those rules even matter anymore?”

Silence followed. Thick, weighted, and impossible to ignore. Because you were right. Neither of you needed to say it out loud. Too many lines had been crossed, but the biggest one loomed between you, unspoken, threatening to shatter everything.

“They should.” His voice was low, steady, as he stepped closer. “I’m sorry. For overstepping. For crossing that boundary.”

The words caught you off guard. An apology was the last thing you expected from him. And truthfully, you weren’t sure he even owed you one because you had let it happen too.

“Don’t,” you cut in quickly, before he could go on. “I let it happen. I’m just as much to blame.”

You brushed past him, the air thick between you, and sank onto the couch, needing the distance, needing the cushions beneath you to ground yourself.

“Look, I’m sorry.” You exhaled heavily, eyes flicking to him. “For talking to Landon. I shouldn’t have. I should’ve… followed your rule.”

Jake moved toward you slowly, deliberate in every step, before lowering himself onto the couch beside you. His arm stretched along the backrest, hovering close without quite touching you.

“I think we’ve both been guilty of breaking rules lately, don’t you?” he murmured.

When you turned to look at him, that faint, teasing smirk tugged at his lips. It was enough to crack through your nerves, and you found yourself smiling, a soft laugh slipping out before you could stop it.

Jake’s grin widened when he noticed you relaxing, but it didn’t last long. He shifted in his seat, and after a stretch of silence, the weight between you pressed in again.

“So… what happens now?” you asked softly, almost afraid of the answer.

Jake leaned back, shoulders rising in a nonchalant shrug. “That’s up to you.”

Your brows pulled together, confusion flickering across your face.

He held your gaze. “If you want to stick to the original arrangement, we can. If you want to set new rules, we can do that too. And if you want to end it all, I’ll respect that.”

The words settled over you like a heavy blanket. You chewed at the inside of your cheek, replaying them in your head. New rules.

You had an idea of what he meant, your stomach twisted just thinking about it but asking outright would mean dragging that night into the open. You weren’t sure you were ready to say it out loud.

“New rules,” you whispered, barely above a breath. “What… what do you mean by that?”

Jake let out a slow sigh, his expression tightening.

“If you want to completely disregard your no-sex rule.”

Your stomach sank, his bluntness hitting like a stone to your chest. The words stripped everything raw, leaving your nerves buzzing with fear and disappointment. Because to him, that’s all it sounded like. Just sex. Nothing more.

“Hey.”

Jake’s voice snapped you out of your spiraling thoughts. Before you could retreat further into your head, his hands found you, guiding you gently closer. Your body responded before your mind could catch up, drawn into his space as though it belonged there. He brushed a strand of hair back from your face, his thumb lingering against your cheek, warm and careful, like he was holding something fragile.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he murmured, his eyes locked on yours with unnerving intensity.

You hesitated, your thoughts twisting over themselves. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him everything, not yet. Not until you knew where he stood. If he wanted to keep this going. If he wanted to go back to the way things were. If he wanted to erase the no-sex rule entirely. Or… if maybe, just maybe, there were feelings hiding beneath your arrangement, the same way they had begun to bloom inside you.

“What do you want?” you asked softly, your voice almost breaking.

Jake’s jaw tightened. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

His brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Because I need to know if you’re feeling what I am.” You shifted closer, steadying yourself as you climbed onto his lap, settling against him but leaving just enough space to breathe. Your gaze held his, unflinching. “Because I need to know if that night changed something for you… the way it did for me.”

For the first time, Jake looked unsettled. Nervous, even. Your words had caught him off guard, stripped away the control he always carried like armor. He wasn’t used to being cornered like this, wasn’t used to being asked to open himself up. His line of work didn’t allow for it. Neither did his arrangements. Feelings, in his world, were a liability.

And when you climbed onto his lap, the shock flickered across his face, brief but undeniable. Still, his arms rose almost instinctively, wrapping around you with a rare gentleness as though, despite himself, he couldn’t push you away.

And then, quietly, he admitted: “It did.” His hand tightened on your waist, grounding you both. His eyes softened. “You have. Beyond that night.”

Your breath hitched. Your chest ached in the best and worst way, your heart fluttering wildly. You almost didn’t believe him, but the sincerity in his voice, the way his gaze lingered on you, told you everything. He felt it too. That spark. That dangerous, undeniable connection.

“But…”

No. Not but. You knew whatever came after would never be good.

“…whatever these feelings are, they can’t go beyond the deal we made.”

And just like that, the air left your lungs. Your heart splintered into pieces, sharp and merciless. You wanted to cry, to scream, to demand more but you just sat there, stunned. He’d warned you from the beginning. He told you this couldn’t go beyond the deal. And yet, hearing him say it now, knowing he felt something for you too, was a pain unlike anything else.

“But why—”

“Because I said so.” His interruption was soft, almost kind, but no less cruel.

“No.” You shook your head firmly, tears brimming. “No, that isn’t good enough. I want to know why. The real reason.”

“That is the real reason.”

“No!” The word tore from your throat, raw and desperate. You grabbed onto his chest, clinging to him like he was the only thing holding you up. “No, you can’t possibly tell me you’re okay with this. With us going back to some stupid sugar arrangement, pretending like there isn’t something real here. You can’t.”

His grip on your waist tightened, the pressure almost warning, as if he was torn between holding you close and pushing you away.

“Jake, please…” you breathed, the sound breaking on a whimper as your hands framed his face, forcing him to look at you.

He exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling against yours. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with something raw, something you’d never seen in him before.

“God… what are you doing to me?” he whispered, the words trembling on the edge of control before his lips crashed into yours.

You kissed him back instantly, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. The kiss was slow at first. Soft, tender, aching with everything unspoken. But the longer it lingered, the more it changed, unraveling into something hungry, something neither of you could restrain.

Jake’s arms slid fully around your waist, locking you against him as he shifted, guiding you down until your back met the cushions beneath. He hovered over you, never once letting his lips part from yours, devouring every sound you made.

His hands were urgent, tugging at the hem of your shorts and pulling them down your legs in one swift motion. The kiss broke only long enough for his lips to trail lower, pressing along the line of your jaw, then down your neck, each touch searing.

When his mouth found your stomach, you shivered beneath him, his kisses leaving a heated path across your skin. His fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt before shoving it upward, exposing your soft curves to his hungry gaze. He lingered at your stomach, kissing, tasting, worshipping, until he reached the delicate band of your panties, hovering there, a silent question in the air, his breath hot against you.

You shifted restlessly beneath him, your body speaking the words your lips couldn’t. The silent plea wasn’t lost on Jake. His mouth curved into a dark smirk before he dipped lower, sinking his teeth gently into the soft skin of your stomach. The sting made you gasp, your hands flying to his hair, but before the sound could fade he was already tugging your underwear down in one swift motion.

You barely had time to catch your breath before he settled between your thighs, eyes locked on you with a hunger that made your pulse race. His grip was unrelenting as he forced your thighs apart, spreading you wide open for him. He didn’t waste a second, his mouth crashed against your soaked core, tongue lapping at you with a hunger that made your head snap back against the cushions.

“Fuck, Jake!” you cried, your voice breaking as the rough drag of his tongue sent sparks ripping through you. Your back arched violently, but his hands pinned your hips down, keeping you right where he wanted you. He growled against you, the vibration shooting straight through your core, and you clutched at his hair, desperate, needy, but he only worked you harder, like a man starved.

Your body thrashed against the cushions, but there was no escaping the rough rhythm of his mouth. His growl vibrated against your core, dragging another cry from your lips. He wasn’t letting you go, wasn’t giving you mercy, every movement of his tongue, every harsh suck pulled you closer to the edge whether you were ready or not.

You were already spiraling, every nerve lit on fire under his mouth, but Jake only grew rougher. His tongue plunged deeper, his lips sealing around your clit with a hard, punishing suck that made you scream. Your hands flew down to push at his head, desperate for a break, but he just growled against you and pinned your wrists flat to your thighs, locking you wide open for him.

“Jake, please—“ your voice cracked, your body trembling violently under the assault of his mouth.

He didn’t stop. If anything, your pleading spurred him on. His tongue lashed over you in quick, ruthless strokes, his teeth grazing just enough to make you cry out again. His grip bruised your skin as he forced you still, dragging you closer and closer to the inevitable.

You shattered with a broken scream, your back arching off the couch as your orgasm ripped through you, overwhelming, unbearable. But Jake didn’t let go. He kept his mouth locked on you, tongue working mercilessly, swallowing every sound you made as you convulsed beneath him.

“Too much! Please!” you begged, tears pricking your eyes as your body shook uncontrollably. But Jake was relentless. He pinned you tighter, tongue moving with feral precision, drawing out every last wave until you were nothing but sobs and gasps, ruined and trembling.

By the time he finally pulled back, his mouth glistened with you, his chest heaving as he dragged his gaze up your wrecked body.

You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, when Jake sat up and shoved his pants down, his cock already hard and aching for you.

“Come here,” he ordered, voice low and commanding as he leaned back against the couch.

You obeyed without hesitation, crawling into his lap. His hands were rough and sure, dragging you closer until you were straddling him. He didn’t give you time to think. One hand gripped your waist tight, the other wrapped around his length as he positioned himself at your entrance.

“Nice and slow …” he muttered, but the way he forced you down said otherwise. He guided you onto him inch by inch, stretching you open until the burn had you gasping.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, eyes locking with his as he filled you deeper, deeper, until you were seated fully on him, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

“That’s it,” he rasped against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. “Take me, baby. All of me.”

A broken moan escaped your lips, your body shuddering around him as you tried to adjust. He didn’t let you. His hand tightened on your waist, holding you in place, making sure you felt every inch of him stretching you wide and claiming you completely.

Jake’s grip on your hips was iron as he set the pace, guiding you up and down on his cock with controlled force. His eyes never left yours, watching every twitch, every moan that slipped out of you as if he owned them. After a while, he loosened his hold, letting you take the rhythm he’d carved into you.

His fingers tugged at the hem of your shirt, voice rough.

“Take this off.”

You tried to keep moving, your hips rolling over him as your shaky hands fumbled with the fabric. He grew impatient, helping you rip it over your head until it was discarded on the floor. The moment your chest was bare, Jake pulled you closer until your breasts were right in his face.

You gasped, your pace faltering when his mouth latched onto your skin, trailing hot, wet kisses across the curve of your breast before his lips closed firmly around your nipple. He sucked hard, tongue flicking in maddening circles while his teeth scraped lightly, sending shocks straight through your body.

“Fuck, Jake,” you moaned, arching into him. One hand slid into his hair, tugging it back so you could see him, his lips wrapped tight around you, his eyes half-lidded with hunger.

He devoured you, biting, licking, sucking until the sensitive bud was swollen and raw with his attention. Then, without mercy, he moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment, your cries growing louder with each pull of his mouth.

The mixture of sensations, his cock stretching you, the way he was claiming your chest with his mouth was too much. Heat pooled in your stomach, your thighs trembling as the familiar wave of your second climax began to build, threatening to crash over you hard and fast.

When he was satisfied, both your nipples swollen and sensitive from his mouth, Jake finally pulled back, chest heaving as his eyes dropped to the sight of you bouncing on his cock. The hunger in his stare made your body burn hotter. He wasn’t far behind you; you could feel the way he twitched inside, the tension in his muscles coiling like a spring.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the sound deep and raw, tilting his head back for a second before snapping forward again with a glare that pinned you in place. His hand slid to your ass, fingers digging into your flesh, and in the next breath he took control back, slamming his hips upward with brutal force.

You cried out, your rhythm breaking as his thrusts from below nearly lifted you off him. The rough, relentless pace stole the breath from your lungs, his cock driving into you deeper, harder than you could manage on your own. Every upward snap of his hips made your vision blur, your nails clawing at his shoulders for something to hold onto.

“Jake!” you gasped, overwhelmed by the way he was using every ounce of strength to fuck up into you, leaving you helpless to do anything but take it.

You leaned in closer, your forehead nearly brushing his, hot breaths tangling as your moans and whimpers spilled out uncontrollably. His eyes darkened at the sound, the raw need in them making your stomach twist even tighter.

“That’s it,” Jake growled, thrusting up into you harder, faster, his voice rough against your ear. “Give it to me. Let me feel you.”

That was all it took, your body snapped, pleasure tearing through you in a wave so sharp it made you collapse against his shoulder. You cried out against his skin as your climax ripped through you, stronger, harder than the first, your walls pulsing tight around him while he fucked you right through it.

“Fuck—” Jake’s voice broke, his pace faltering as his thrusts turned rough and desperate. Each snap of his hips grew sloppier, heavier, his breath hot and ragged against your neck. You could hear the low curses tumbling from his lips as he buried himself deep again and again, chasing that edge.

Then it hit him, his entire body tensing beneath you as he spilled inside, a guttural groan tearing from his chest. “Shiiiit…” he dragged out, voice thick with release, driving into you one last time before collapsing back against the couch. His chest heaved against yours, both of you sinking into the mess of sweat and shuddering breaths.

You lay against his shoulder, still trying to catch your breath. When his hands slipped from your hips, panic prickled your chest. Last time, this was when he shut down, when he turned cold and left you to sit in the silence alone. You almost didn’t dare to look at him, terrified that meeting his gaze would shatter whatever fragile spell still lingered between you.

But then his arms came back, wrapping firm and steady around your waist, and something inside you fluttered, hope.

“Hey.”

You finally looked up.

“Let’s get cleaned up, hm?”

Your brows lifted in surprise, but you nodded quickly.

He helped you off his lap and stood, fingers catching yours as he led you down the hall like he already knew the way. Without hesitation, he found your bathroom, flipped the light on, and tossed his shirt aside before turning the shower on.

“Hot or cold?”

“Hot.” Your voice was shy, barely above a whisper.

“Figures.” A soft chuckle rumbled from him.

When the water ran just right, he stepped in first, holding a hand out for you. You took it, letting him draw you under the spray. For a moment, you both just stood there, water rolling down your skin as if it could rinse away the weight between you. Jake’s hand found your cheek, his thumb brushing slowly as a faint smile tugged at his lips. Then, he leaned in and kissed you, unhurried, lingering, achingly tender.

You melted, humming softly against his mouth, drunk on the gentleness he rarely showed.

When he finally pulled back, he reached for your body wash and loofah. You blinked, stunned, watching him lather it up. He didn’t say a word as he began to wash you, each stroke deliberate, careful as though you were something precious in his hands.

It felt unreal. Like any second he’d shut off again, leave you cold and confused. But he didn’t. Not this time.

When the shower ended, you stepped out first, steam curling around your skin. Jake grabbed your robe, holding it open for you before reaching for a towel himself, wrapping it casually around his waist.

Without hesitation, he laced his fingers with yours again and led you into your bedroom. His eyes wandered briefly, taking in the space, before he slipped away. You frowned, the empty air where his hand had been suddenly cold. When he returned, he carried his shirt, wordlessly handing it to you.

You accepted it, cheeks warming as you clutched the fabric to your chest. Turning to your dresser, you fished out fresh panties, loosening the robe and letting it slide down to the floor. The cotton was cool against your skin as you slipped them on, then tugged his shirt over your head. It hung loose, swallowing you whole, and somehow made you feel more exposed than before.

But when you turned back, Jake was gone again.

Your stomach dropped. Fear seeped in like ice water. Had he left? Was this where it ended? You padded toward the door, only to freeze when he appeared in the doorway, now dressed only in his boxers. Relief rushed through you, leaving your knees a little weak.

“Was wondering where you went,” you murmured, a nervous little laugh breaking out of you.

Jake’s grin was easy, disarming. “Come on.”

He reached for your hand again, guiding you toward the bed. He slid in first, propping himself back against your pillows before opening an arm, inviting you in without a word.

You hesitated for only a beat before climbing in beside him. His arm came around you immediately, firm and protective, pulling you into the warmth of his chest.

A sigh slipped out of you, unbidden, as his hand slowly traced down your back, steady, soothing. For the first time in what felt like forever, you let yourself relax. Sleep tugged at you, but you fought it, clinging to the moment, afraid that if you drifted off, it would all vanish, that he’d vanish.

But in the end, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the weight of his arm around you, and the quiet safety of his presence lulled you under.

The next morning, you stirred awake to the cool stretch of an empty bed. Blinking against the soft light, you sat up slowly, scanning the room. The shirt on your body, the one he’d given you, kept you calm for a fleeting second. He wouldn’t have left. Not after last night.

But the silence in your apartment dragged on, heavy and unbroken, until fear clawed up your chest.

The door creaked, and you gasped when Jake stepped inside.

“Hey,” he said softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re up.”

You nodded quickly, taking him in. Jeans, shoes on, ready to go.

“Leaving?” Your voice was small, betraying more than you wanted it to.

He sighed, crossing the room to sit beside you, his presence steadying you instantly. “Duty calls.”

Your frown deepened, but before you could reply, he added, “I’ll be back later.”

Hope flickered in your chest, just enough to ease the sting.

His gaze dropped to the shirt hanging loose on your frame. “I do need my shirt back, though.”

You laughed softly, nervous. “What if I don’t want to give it back?”

Jake pushed to his feet, eyes glinting. “Alright, then. I’ll just leave like—”

“No!” You cut him off, scrambling onto your knees. “Alright.”

Slowly, you lifted the hem of the shirt, slipping it over your head, eyes locked on his the whole time. The air between you tightened.

Jake exhaled sharply, his gaze raking over your bare skin. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.

He slipped the shirt from your hands, tugging it back over his head.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, shaking his head with the faintest grin.

You giggled softly, the sound breaking the quiet tension. He leaned in, stealing a kiss. Slow, unhurried, lingering just long enough to make it hard for you to let him go.

“I’ll see you later,” he murmured against your lips.

You nodded, trying not to show how much you wanted him to stay.

“Breakfast will be delivered,” he added casually, already moving for the door. A moment later, you heard the front door open and click shut behind him.

You let out a dreamy sigh, sinking back onto your bed, staring at the ceiling, heart caught somewhere between hope and dread. Whatever this was, you wanted it to last but with Jake, you never knew if it would.

Jake jogged lightly down the apartment stairwell. For once, his chest didn’t feel so tight. Last night lingered in his bones like a rare kind of warmth, the kind he didn’t let himself feel often.

He exhaled a laugh under his breath, shaking his head. “The death of me,” he muttered again, but this time it wasn’t just a throwaway line. You really could be.

Stepping into the cool morning air, he crossed to his car. His good mood dipped the moment his eyes scanned the street, his instincts switching on without thought. Old habits, necessary ones. A man in his line of work didn’t get the luxury of distraction.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Jake gripped the steering wheel and stared at his reflection in the rearview. He should’ve left it at the deal, kept it clean and simple. Now there were feelings tangled up in something that could never stay neat.

You didn’t know who he was. What he did when he wasn’t with you. And you couldn’t.

Jake started the engine, jaw tightening as the rumble filled the silence. For a fleeting moment, he let himself think about you waiting upstairs, maybe still in bed, maybe smiling to yourself. Then, with a sharp breath, he pushed the thought away. He had work to do.

And work didn’t wait for anyone.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

34 notes · View notes

writingcold · 5 days ago

Text

I'm feeling this is the direction we are goin' in with both of these characters. I'm not going to be fine.

Gold Tastes Bitter: Chapter Nine

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Shaken after crossing a line with Jake, Y/n sneaks out of his penthouse but can’t escape the memory of him. Torn between guilt, desire, and the collapse of their arrangement, Y/n is left restless until a late-night knock at her door breaks the silence.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Warnings - emotional turmoil, angst, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, possessiveness, mentions of manipulation, blurred boundaries, mature themes, mentions of sex, brief mention of rough intimacy, toxic dynamics

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

The next morning, the house was still. Too still. For a fleeting second, you forgot where you were until the dull ache between your legs dragged the memory of last night back in sharp detail.

You pushed yourself upright, sheets slipping around your body, and realized you were curled up on his living room couch. Your gaze flicked instinctively to the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Nothing. No sound, no movement. You bit your lip, torn.

Should you wait for him? Pretend nothing happened and carry on like this was still an “arrangement”? Or should you leave before he came down?

Your stomach twisted. It wasn’t supposed to go this far. He wasn’t supposed to cross that line with you. And yet, he had. And worse, you had let him.

You thought about sneaking out, slipping quietly from his penthouse and never looking back. But your dress, the one you wore to dinner, was still upstairs in his room, discarded somewhere between his bed and the floor. To go get it would mean going back into his space, climbing those stairs, maybe facing him if he was awake. The thought alone made your chest tighten.

So instead, you sat frozen for a few minutes, the silence pressing against your ears until it became unbearable. With a frustrated breath, you stood, the bedsheet brushing against your thighs as you padded barefoot across the hardwood.

His penthouse was massive, sleek in its design, floor-to-ceiling windows letting in soft morning light that painted the marble floors pale gold. Everything about it screamed power, wealth, control. His control.

You wandered through the open space, scanning for anything you could use. A sweater, a jacket, something to cover yourself before you left. You peeked toward the coat rack by the door: nothing but expensive-looking jackets that didn’t belong to you. The idea of putting one on felt like another boundary crossed, another mistake.

You turned to the kitchen instead, hand pressed to the counter, steadying yourself. What if he comes down right now? Would he stop you? Would he even care if you left?

Your eyes darted toward the door. Freedom was right there, just a few feet away. But you stood rooted in place, torn between the urge to run and the quiet, aching pull that kept you here.

Finally, with your heart hammering, you moved toward the laundry nook just off the kitchen. After rifling through a basket, you found a plain hoodie, probably something he threw on to lounge around in the house. It smelled faintly of his cologne, and slipping it over your head sent a shiver down your spine.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Enough to walk out without looking like you had just crawled out of his bed.

You glanced once more toward the stairs, the weight of last night heavy in your chest. You should go. You needed to go.

But your body didn’t move. Not yet. You lingered in the center of his immaculate penthouse, hoodie sleeves swallowing your hands, torn between escape and the dangerous comfort of staying.

Because leaving meant this was the end. But staying meant him.

But that was the problem. You didn’t know where you stood anymore. Was this the end of your arrangement? Would he want things to go back to normal? Did you even want that? Could you? The questions swarmed your head until you felt like you might spiral into a full-blown panic.

With a shaky breath, you turned back toward the living room, snatched your bag and heels, and slipped out of his home as quietly as you could. The sharp bite of morning air against your face brought the smallest relief, like it was rinsing away the heaviness still clinging to your skin.

You pulled out your phone with trembling hands, called for a ride, and waited. When the car pulled up, you climbed in without a word. The ride was silent, suffocating. You pressed your forehead to the window and let the tears fall quietly.

You could still feel him. The drag of his body inside yours, the way his hand had wrapped around your throat, the bruising heat of his kiss. It played on a loop, relentless, until your chest ached and your tears blurred the city passing outside.

And it wasn’t just because you’d crossed a boundary with Jake. No. It was the coldness after. The way he hadn’t looked at you, hadn’t cared, hadn’t even tried. He had taken what he wanted and moved on like nothing had happened.

That’s what broke you.

And admitting it to yourself, to anyone, terrified you even more.

Because even without care, without tenderness, you still wanted him. The hunger for him lived in your skin now, lodged in your veins, and no amount of shame could quiet it. You hated yourself for it. Hated that the memory of his hands on your body, his weight pressed against you. You had promised yourself you would have more respect than this. And yet, even as you sat there torn apart by what happened, all you could think about was how badly you wanted it again.

The moment you walked into your apartment, you stripped out of his hoodie and went straight for the shower. You turned the water as hot as it would go, stepping under until it burned against your skin, as if heat alone could erase him. You scrubbed hard, over and over, until your skin turned red. But it wasn’t just his scent you were trying to wash away, it was the ache in your chest, the heaviness in your stomach, the way his name felt caught on the back of your tongue even now.

Water cascaded over your face as you pressed your palms flat against the tiled wall, forehead bowed. You wanted to cry again, but the tears wouldn’t come this time. You were too empty. Too wrung out. Instead, you stood there, shaking, and let the steam suffocate the air around you.

Because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t scrub away the truth: you wanted him, even if it went against what you agreed on.

After nearly an hour beneath the water, you finally forced yourself out of the shower. Wrapping your robe tight around you, you didn’t even bother with fresh clothes, there wasn’t enough energy left in you for that. Your body was drained, your head heavy, and the only thing pulling you forward now was the sharp ache in your stomach.

You padded into the kitchen, tugging open the fridge door, staring blankly at the shelves. Nothing looked appealing. You didn’t have it in you to stand over a hot stove, not today. You just needed something, anything to put in your system before you collapsed into bed. Eventually, you pulled out the bread, peanut butter, and jelly. Simple. Mindless.

The motions were automatic: spreading, stacking, pressing the bread together. By the time you finished, the house had gone quiet again, save for the low hum of the refrigerator. You took the sandwich in hand and carried it with you back to the couch.

Your phone buzzed against the cushion where you’d dropped your bag earlier. You chewed as you reached for it, thumbing it open, then froze.

The bite in your mouth turned to ash.

Jake: We need to talk.

Your chest hollowed. The sandwich in your hand suddenly felt heavy, forgotten as you set it down.

You stared at the words until they blurred. The weight of them pressed down, heavier than anything he’d said to you last night, heavier than his silence this morning.

We need to talk.

Was that a threat? An ending? Or worse. Was it nothing at all? Just business. Cold, detached. The kind of text you’d get from a boss, not from the man whose hands had been wrapped around your throat, whose lips had burned against your skin.

Your robe felt suffocating. You tugged it tighter anyway, curling in on yourself as if that would shield you from the rush of thoughts crashing through your head.

Part of you wanted to ignore it. To delete the message, pretend it never came, save yourself from the spiral you knew was coming. But another part, stronger, louder, ached to reply. To know where you stood. To know if this was the end, or if he wanted more.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as memories from last night looped cruelly yet again: his body pressed into yours, the sound of your name tangled in his breath, and then, nothing. No care. No warmth. Just Jake pulling away, shutting himself off like you were nothing more than a toy.

And yet… your chest ached for him.

Tears pricked at your eyes as you stared at the message again, thumb hovering above the screen but refusing to move.

Because you knew the truth. Whether you replied or not, whether you stayed or left, Jake had already gotten under your skin. He’d already taken up space inside you.

And you weren’t sure you’d ever get it back.

After staring at the message for what felt like hours, you decided you needed time.

You couldn’t face him, not yet. It hadn’t even been a full day since last night, and your skin still burned with the memory of it. The thought of seeing him, of sitting across from him while the air hung thick with everything you both did, was too much. So you forced yourself to put your phone back down, fingers trembling, and took another bite of your sandwich. Chew. Swallow. Pretend it was enough to ground you.

But Jake wasn’t pretending.

When he woke up to find you gone, the pit in his chest hollowed into panic. He’d half expected you to be there, still wrapped in his sheets, still within reach. Instead, he found emptiness and that terrified him more than he wanted to admit.

He knew he’d crossed a line. Knew he’d broken one of your boundaries, betrayed the rules you both had set. And the way he’d shut down afterward… Christ, he wanted to put his fist through a wall just thinking about it. He hated himself for that. For freezing. For pushing you away when all he really wanted was to keep you close.

But denial wasn’t possible anymore. Not after feeling you like that. Not after tasting your breath against his, hearing your voice break under his name.

It had been too good. Too consuming. He couldn’t erase the way your body fit against his, the way you clung to him like you were made for him. And no matter how wrong it was, he wanted it again.

No. He needed it.

But not without a conversation. Because this wasn’t just sex and he knew it.

Jake had crossed into dangerous territory.

He had feelings. Strong, possessive feelings and the thought of losing you now made his chest ache in ways he didn’t even understand.

But when you didn’t answer, the silence gnawed at him. It wasn’t just frustration, it was panic. It felt like you were already slipping away, out of his reach, and Jake had never been good at waiting. So he did the one thing he knew best.

The next morning, a sharp knock dragged you out of sleep. You groaned, peeling yourself from the sheets, rubbing at your eyes as you shuffled toward the door. A quick glance at the clock on your way past told you it wasn’t even seven a.m. yet. With another groan, you didn’t bother checking the peephole, just swung the door open.

“Y/n?”

You blinked at the delivery man standing there, nodding faintly. He handed over a sleek olive-green box tied with a perfect black bow, offering you a polite smile and nod before walking off.

Confused, you shut the door and carried the box to the couch. The weight of it sat heavy in your lap, your fingers brushing over the embossed letters pressed into the lid: Gucci.

Your stomach twisted. You didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. Still, your hands moved on their own, tugging the ribbon free, lifting the lid.

Inside, nestled in soft tissue paper, was a black designer bag. Beautiful. Flawless. The kind of thing you’d never buy for yourself until you met him.

And just like that, your chest tightened because this wasn’t just a gift. It was Jake. A reminder.

A reminder, that’s what it felt like. A reminder of the arrangement. Of the rules that now hung in the air like smoke, suffocating, uncertain. You couldn’t tell what the gift really meant. Was it an apology wrapped in luxury? Or was it something darker. A warning, a quiet claim over you that you hadn’t agreed to?

Either way, it sat heavy in your hands, gleaming and beautiful but tainted. The bag didn’t feel like a gift. It felt like a message.

With a sharp breath, you set the lid back on and carried the box into your room. You shoved it into the corner, leaving it on the floor where the shadows gathered. Out of sight. You didn’t want it staring at you. You didn’t want him staring at you through it. Not when you still needed space to think, to breathe, to make sense of what happened.

But Jake… Jake thought differently. He thought this would’ve been enough. That you’d reach out, soften, fold back into place. When you didn’t reply to his text from yesterday, his response was immediate.

Another delivery.

And then another.

And another.

One after the other, piling up, until your quiet apartment felt invaded by him.

By the end of the week, the gifts had formed a small tower in your living room. Neat boxes, perfect ribbons, glossy bags, all of them staring back at you, mocking you. Each delivery chipped away at the space you thought you’d carved for yourself.

You felt like you were losing your grip. Like the walls were closing in. Trapped in his reach even here, in your own home.

It wasn’t as if you were ignoring him entirely. You just needed space. Time. Your silence should have been answer enough. But gift after gift kept arriving, each one louder than the last, proving he didn’t hear your silence at all.

Maybe it was time.

Time to stop hiding, to stop letting the silence stretch until it suffocated you. To face him, rip the bandaid off, and finally have the conversation you’d been dreading. To find out where the two of you stood now. If you stood anywhere at all.

The thought made your stomach churn. Because the truth was, you still didn’t know what you wanted. You weren’t ready to walk away, but you weren’t ready to stay either. And every time you looked at the gifts stacked in the corner, glittering reminders of what you were to him, you felt sick.

Taking his money had always been part of the arrangement. It was a clean transaction. But after what happened between you two, after the line you crossed, it didn’t feel clean anymore. It felt heavy. It felt wrong.

You turned those thoughts over and over until the sun sank and shadows claimed the room. Hours slipped by in silence, yet the war in your head never quieted. No new gift arrived at your door, thankfully. At least there was no fresh reminder to twist the knife. But even without them, you were still stuck, caught in the same cycle of doubt and longing.

Eventually, your gaze drifted to your phone lying facedown on the coffee table. It had been buzzing all week, his name flashing across the screen more times than you could count. Now it just sat there in the dim light, as though waiting for you to make the first move.

Your hand trembled when you reached for it. Just the thought of seeing his name again made your chest tighten. You unlocked the screen and scrolled to his contact, your thumb hovering dangerously over the call button.

One tap. That was all it would take. One tap and you’d hear his voice, hear the explanation he had prepared for you.

But you couldn’t do it. Not yet. With a shaky exhale, you set the phone back down and dragged both hands over your face. The silence of the room swallowed you whole, leaving you more restless than before.

You shifted on the couch, staring at the ceiling as if the blank white plaster had the answers. Every thought circled back to him. The way he touched you. The way his eyes darkened when he was inside you. The way he didn’t even look at you after. You kept replaying it in fragments, like a film reel you couldn’t turn off.

“Stop,” you whispered to yourself, curling your knees against your chest.

But your body betrayed you. The ache between your thighs was still there, lingering like a cruel reminder. You hated yourself for it. Hated that your body wanted more of him when your mind was begging for space. You weren’t supposed to feel this way. You weren’t supposed to crave him. You were supposed to keep it clean, transactions, boundaries, rules. And yet, all of that had been shattered in one night.

You pushed off the couch and paced the living room, arms hugging yourself tight. Every corner of your apartment seemed to mock you. The sweater you borrowed from him, draped over the back of a chair. The faint smell of his cologne still clinging to it. Your bag in the corner. Even the mirror by your hallway caught your eye, and for a second, you hated the reflection staring back at you.

“This is your fault,” you muttered under your breath.

Because it was. You’d let yourself catch feelings. You’d let yourself want something more than what he promised to give. If you hadn’t blurred that line, maybe things wouldn’t feel so suffocating now.

Your legs eventually gave out, and you collapsed onto the couch again, burying your face into a pillow. You tried to sleep, but sleep never came. Hours dragged on, and the city outside shifted from noisy to quiet again. By the time the clock blinked close to midnight, you were wide awake, sitting in the same spot, exhausted but restless.

The knock at your door startled you so badly, you flinched. Three firm raps against the wood, echoing in the silence. Your chest tightened instantly. Nobody came here this late. Not your friends. Not your neighbors.

Slowly, you stood, heart pounding in your throat. Another knock. Louder this time.

You hesitated for a second, every instinct telling you not to answer but curiosity was stronger. You padded across the floor, feet silent against the hardwood, and wrapped your fingers around the doorknob.

The moment you swung it open, your breath caught.

Your lips parted before you could even think, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Jake…”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

27 notes · View notes

writingcold · 5 days ago

Text

Ooooofffft. What the hell was that Jake?? Just. ouchie.

Gold Tastes Bitter: Chapter Eight

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆ ⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Back from Cancun, Jake’s intensity escalates, pushing their arrangement into dangerous new territory where boundaries blur and control shifts.

Jake Kiszka x Fem!Readed

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings - 18+!!!, sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, obsessive/controlling behavior, sexual content, masterbation, rough unprotected sex, breath play (choking), jealousy, possessiveness, mild manipulation, toxic dynamic, emotional conflict, feelings of isolation, alcohol use

Disclaimer - reader discretion is advised, especially due to themes involving toxic dynamics, and explicit sexual content. this story does not promote or glamorize sugar daddy/sugar baby relationships. please excuse any errors or misspelling. let me know of any missed warnings!!

Gold Tastes Bitter Masterpost

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

It had been a week since the trip to Cancun. A week since that moment in the water with Jake. You kept replaying it in your mind, the steady grip of his hands on your waist, the intensity in his gaze but as life back home began to fall back into its usual rhythm, you were quickly reminded of your arrangement. Reminded of your place.

You’d only seen Jake a handful of times since Cancun, but something about him had shifted.

The texts came constantly, like clockwork, almost at the same time every day:

Jake: What are you doing?

Jake: Who are you with?

Jake: Answer me.

You’d stare at the screen for hours, the words gnawing at you. It was suffocating, like he was always watching. The irritation only grew.

But today was a new day and you decided instead of yoga, you’d given in to another kind of release. Your hand slipped beneath your sheets, moving in slow, teasing circles over your panties. Your lips parted as soft sounds spilled out, pleasure building low in your stomach.

But every vibration of your phone pulled you back from the edge, breaking your rhythm. Still, you pushed on, your fingers moving faster as your thighs trembled.

Another buzz rattled the nightstand. You groaned, the moment stolen from you.

Frustrated, you licked your fingers and dove back under the waistband of your panties, desperate to chase it again. It didn’t take long before you found your rhythm, quiet moans escaping as your climax neared once more.

RING.

Your phone blared, shattering everything. With a sharp groan, you sat up and snatched it off the table.

“Hello?”

“Why aren’t you answering my texts?”

Jake.

“I’m busy,” you said flatly.

“With who? Where are you?”

There it was. No attempt to hide it anymore. Just blunt questions, like he had to know or else the world might collapse.

“I’m home. Alone. Like always.”

“Is that so? Then why have my texts gone unread?”

“I was busy, okay? Doing… laundry.” You lied, heat creeping up your neck. “Do you actually need something, or can I finish?”

“I have a business party tonight. One of my partners is hosting, and I want you there. Eight o’clock.”

“I thought I wasn’t allowed near your friends.”

“We won’t be there long. I’ll explain more tonight. Just be ready by seven. I’ll have a dress and heels delivered.”

You exhaled, defeated. “Fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

Around four o’clock, a knock echoed through your apartment. Fresh out of the shower, you tugged your robe tighter and opened the door. A black box sat on the mat. Inside, a silk gown and a pair of heels. Exactly what Jake promised.

You carried it in and wasted no time.

By seven, you were dressed and ready, frustration from earlier still simmering in your chest. You weren’t in the mood for a business party, but maybe being around new people would distract you. Lately, the arrangement had begun to wear you down. The gifts, the money, the trips, all of it was flashy, but empty. What you missed was connection. Real interaction. Intimacy.

It wasn’t that you weren’t allowed to see friends or even fall into casual hookups if you wanted, but ever since that night in the water with Jake, nothing compared. You craved him. Craved the way it felt when there were no rules, no commands, no clock ticking down. Just the two of you moving with whatever current pulled you.

You wanted more moments like that. The kind that felt ripped straight out of a cliché TV romance, where two characters finally realize they’ve been in love all along after denying it for far too long.

But you knew better. That wasn’t your story.

The sharp buzz of your phone snapped you back, Jake’s name lighting up the screen, a cold reminder of what this really was.

Jake: I’m outside.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the couch and headed down.

Jake leaned against his car, dressed head to toe in black. Dress pants, boots, a silk button-up beneath a velvet blazer strung with pendants. He smirked when he saw you.

“Whoa. Look at you.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “You look… wow yourself.”

He opened your door, letting you slide in before circling back to the driver’s side. The ride was quiet until the city lights blurred into a towering building.

“Stay by my side at all times,” he said flatly.

You glanced at him, then nodded.

The car stopped at the entrance. Jake tossed his keys to the valet, then opened your door, guiding you out with a hand on your back.

The moment you stepped inside, the air changed. Thick with money and power. Gowns shimmered, suits gleamed, and the clink of glasses carried over smooth laughter. You felt small. Out of place.

“Come on,” Jake murmured, steering you toward the bar.

Drinks were ordered, poured, and slid across the bar. You each took one, the chilled glass cool against your fingers.

“Kiszka.”

A man approached, drink in hand, a grin plastered on his face. Jake set his glass down quickly, arm winding around your waist.

“Don’t speak unless I say so,” he whispered.

“You made it,” the man said, shaking Jake’s hand. Then his eyes flicked to you, lingering. “And you brought a lady. Damn, Kiszka. You finally cracked, huh? What happened to not letting anyone near—”

“You know I’d never miss it,” Jake cut in sharply, ignoring the jab.

The man’s smirk widened. “And your name is, gorgeous?”

You felt Jake’s grip tighten around you.

You weren’t sure if his silence meant to keep quiet or to answer, but after a few tense seconds, you forced a smile and gave the stranger your name.

“Y/n,” you answered softly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

The stranger’s gaze burned into you, making your skin crawl. Jake noticed. He didn’t like it.

“Well, I should mingle. I’ll catch up with you later.” The man lifted his glass and walked away.

You exhaled. “Jesus.”

Jake’s head snapped toward you. “I told you not to speak unless I said so.”

You looked at him, annoyed and confused. “He asked my name, Jake. Was I supposed to just stand there like a statue?”

His grip on your waist tightened.

The night dragged on, you tucked against his side as he spoke with men you didn’t recognize. You were bored. Isolated.

Being surrounded by what you could only guess were Jake’s wealthy colleagues only deepened your sense of loneliness as your eyes drifted around the room. The women here seemed to fit perfectly. Polished, important, like they belonged. And you? You were just the date on Jake’s arm, the pretty distraction he’d pay for later before sending you back to your apartment, as if your only purpose was to make him look good.

The weight of it pressed heavy on you, sadness quietly pooling in your chest. Needing a moment to breathe, you pushed yourself up from your seat.

“I’m going to the restroom,” you whispered, slipping away.

Inside the bathroom, you let out a shaky breath. You wanted nothing more than to go home. This world wasn’t yours. You couldn’t even talk. You couldn’t connect with a single thing they were talking about, and no one bothered to acknowledge you except to ask Jake who he’d brought along. The isolation sank heavy in your chest.

Just as your thoughts began to spiral, your phone buzzed.

Jake: Where are you?

You rolled your eyes and shoved it back into your purse.

Ridiculous.

When you returned, his arm immediately wrapped back around your waist.

“Everything okay?”

You nodded.

“Then why didn’t you answer my text?”

“Because I told you where I was going. Jesus, Jake. Why don’t you just put a tracker on my phone already?” you muttered.

His gaze sharpened. “Excuse me?”

You lowered your voice. “You’re constantly on me. Ever since the trip. It’s like I can’t breathe. Why don’t I just wear a dog collar so you can keep me on a leash?”

“Hey.” His grip tightened. “I ask because I care. Is that so hard to believe?”

You sighed, guilt pricking at you with a mixture of something else.

He leaned in closer. “I just want to know you’re safe.”

Your heart skipped at that.

There it was. The same vulnerability you’d glimpsed back in Cancun, the ache you found yourself craving. The sharp edge of your frustration dulled at his words.

“Right… I’m sorry.”

The night wore on. You sat at a table, nursing a drink as Jake carried on with his colleagues. At one point, you tugged his sleeve.

“I’m grabbing another drink. Want one?”

He shook his head. “Hurry back.”

You nodded and rose from your seat, making your way to the bar. After ordering a glass of champagne, you turned back to survey the room, only to notice a young man heading straight toward you.

Your eyes widened, and you quickly faced the bar again.

Maybe he wasn’t coming for you. Maybe he just wanted a drink. But when his voice rang out, calling in your direction, you knew better.

“Excuse me.”

You turned. He looked about your age. Short hair, a smile that revealed deep dimples. He was handsome. Disarmingly so.

“You’re here with Jake, right? I’m Landon. I work for him.”

He extended his hand. You hesitated. You knew better. You weren’t supposed to be talking to anyone. If Jake caught you, he’d lose it. But he was nowhere in sight, and really, what harm could a little harmless conversation do? So, you let yourself smile.

“Y/n.”

Back at the table, Jake’s attention drifted. You’d been gone too long. He pulled out his phone, shot you a text, and stared at the screen.

Nothing.

Minutes passed. Two. Four. Six. Eight. Ten. His patience thinned with each one. Finally, he excused himself from the group and went looking for you.

He cursed under his breath each time someone blocked his path, every second stretching out too long. The bar was just ahead, but the crowd made it impossible to see you. He shifted to go around, then the bodies parted.

And there you were.

Jake’s vision tunneled, heat flooding his chest. You weren’t ordering a drink. You weren’t even alone. You were with him. Landon.

Jake’s breath slowed, dangerously steady, his eyes fixed on you like a predator locking onto prey. You laughed at something Landon said, your hand brushing his chest in a playful slap. Then, Landon leaned down, lifted your hand, and pressed his lips against your knuckles.

Jake snapped.

He shoved through the crowd without hesitation, people stumbling out of his way. The only thing he saw was you. In one swift, brutal motion, his hand closed around your wrist, yanking you away before you could even react. Your feet struggled to keep up as he dragged you through the exit, past the blur of voices and music, straight toward valet.

“My car. Now.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade.

Outside, the air was cooler, but it did nothing to ease the storm in him. His grip on your wrist was iron, his jaw locked, his eyes burning.

You opened your mouth to protest, but before a word left your lips, the car screeched up. Jake didn’t wait. He hauled you to the passenger side, shoved the door open, and gave you a slight push inside.

“Get in.”

You obeyed instantly, startled by the force in his tone. The door slammed, the sound sharp enough to make you flinch. By the time he rounded the hood and dropped into the driver’s seat, his hands were already gripping the wheel, the engine roaring as he floored it out of the lot.

The speed climbed fast, the world outside blurring. You pressed back into the seat, eyes darting between the glowing speedometer and the sharp set of his face.

“Jake…” you tried, your voice careful, cautious.

But he didn’t answer. His jaw stayed clenched, his knuckles white on the wheel as his foot pressed harder on the gas.

Your eyes flicked back to the speedometer.

85, 90, climbing higher. Panic clawing at your chest.

“Jake, please,” you begged, clutching your seatbelt like it might save you. “Slow down and just tell me what’s going on.”

But he didn’t. His foot pressed harder on the gas, weaving through traffic with terrifying precision.

“I told you to stay by my side all night,” his voice was low, cutting, each word laced with fury. “To keep your mouth shut unless I told you otherwise.”

His hand slammed against the steering wheel, the crack of impact making you flinch. The car jolted forward, speedometer ticking up, the blur of headlights rushing past.

He’d seen it. You and Landon at the bar. He’d watched you talking, watched that polite kiss Landon pressed to your knuckles. And now, Jake was mad. Furious.

“Jake,” your throat was tight, your words stumbling out. “I didn’t tell him anything.”

He let out a bitter laugh, harsh and humorless, shaking his head without looking at you.

“Jake, I swear,” your voice broke, trembling. “He came up to me.”

The rest of the drive was suffocating. Jake said nothing, and neither did you. You sat rigid in the passenger seat, silently praying you’d make it out of this alive. When he finally veered onto an exit, your stomach dropped.

You didn’t recognize the area.

“Where are we going?” you asked, voice unsteady.

No response. His jaw was tight, his grip on the wheel still unforgiving. The speed had eased, but the fury in his silence lingered, coiled and heavy.

“Jake.”

Still nothing.

Panic clawed at your chest, your breaths coming in shallow pulls. You wanted to apologize, to beg him to believe you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the fear that it would spark him further kept the words lodged in your throat.

At last, he pulled into the underground garage of a sleek penthouse, parking with precision. He killed the engine, got out without a word, and started walking. You scrambled after him.

“Jake.”

No acknowledgment.

“Jake, talk to me!” You darted in front of him, desperate to force his eyes on you.

But he just looked past you, stripped off his jacket, and brushed by as though you weren’t there. He disappeared up the stairs, leaving you standing there in a mix of confusion, panic, and a spark of hot anger beginning to replace the fear.

For a long moment, you debated. Wait him out down here, or follow? In the end, you kicked off your heels and stormed upstairs.

You found him in a sprawling bedroom, standing by the bed as he unfastened his cufflinks, movements controlled, deliberate.

“Hey!” your voice cracked across the room as you stormed in. “I’m sorry, alright?! Is that what you wanna hear?”

Jake didn’t answer right away. He just stood there, rolling his cuffs back with a precision that made you even more furious. Your words hung heavy in the air, unanswered.

You stepped closer, glaring up at him. “Nothing happened. He came up to me. I didn’t go looking for him and I’m sorry but you don’t get to drag me across the city like a hostage and then ignore me like this!”

That finally did it.

His head snapped toward you, his eyes blazing, and before you could take a breath, his hand shot out, gripping your jaw. The force wasn’t painful, but it demanded your attention. He tilted your face up to his, his voice a low growl.

“You think I can just watch another man touch what’s mine? Laugh at him like that? Let him put his hands on you?” His grip tightened slightly, his breath hot against your lips. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Your heart was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with fear anymore.

“You don’t own me, Jake,” you whispered back, though it came out weaker than you intended.

The corner of his mouth curled into something dark. “Don’t I?”

Before you could protest, his mouth was on yours. Rough, demanding, swallowing the last of your anger. His other hand slid to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt just how wound up he really was.

The air between you shifted, all that pent-up fury combusting into something primal. You found yourself clutching his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. His grip on you was unyielding, possessive, but in that moment, you didn’t want to escape.

When he broke the kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his voice was hoarse.

“You drive me insane.”

And then his lips crashed back onto yours, deeper this time, his hands already working at the zipper of your dress.

Your lips moved hungrily against his, breaths mingling as the sound of your zipper slid down between kisses. The dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling soundlessly at your feet. Jake’s mouth trailed to your neck, drawing a shiver from you as your arms looped around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

He guided you backward with steady steps, the heat between you both building until the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He pulled away just long enough to give you a firm push, sending you tumbling back onto the mattress.

For a moment, he only stood there, framed between your knees, gaze dark and hungry as it swept over you. And then, without looking away from you, he started to undress, his gaze locked on yours the entire time.

Your heartbeat quickened, pounding in your chest as each piece of clothing he shed only intensified the heat pooling between your legs. You were already soaked, your body aching for him, every nerve strung tight with need.

When he was finally bare, he climbed over you, tearing your bra away with a sharp gasp. He didn’t bother with your panties, just shoved them aside with urgency, exposing your slick, glistening core to him.

His breath is heavy, hot against your skin as he settles between your thighs. The weight of him presses you down into the mattress, and before you can even beg, his fingers drag through your wetness, spreading it across your folds.

“Dripping for me already,” he growls, voice low and ragged, the sound vibrating straight through your chest.

You whimper, hips arching up desperately, needing more, needing him. But he doesn’t give you the chance to plead. With one sharp thrust, he’s inside you deep, filling you so suddenly that your gasp catches in your throat.

The bed creaks beneath the force of his movements as he pounds into you, relentless, raw. Every stroke steals your breath, your body shuddering around him. His grip clamps down on your hips, bruising, dragging you into each thrust like he’s determined to leave his claim on every inch of you.

“Say my name,” he demands against your ear, his voice breaking with urgency.

Your nails claw at his back, your moans tumbling out broken and needy as he drives into you harder, faster, not giving you a second to think, only feel.

“I said, say my name.” His voice is a growl, vicious and demanding, punctuated by the brutal snap of his hips as he slams into you harder, faster.

His hand leaves your hip and clamps around your throat, his grip firm and controlling. You let out a strangled moan, the sound breaking under the pressure, pleasure burning hot through every nerve as he stretches you with each relentless thrust.

Your lips part, desperate to obey, but all that spills out is a broken, breathless, “Ja—”

Jake’s mouth twists into a wicked grin. He leans down close, lips brushing your ear, his voice nothing but dark amusement. “That’s all? Can’t even get my name out?” His thumb presses harder against your pulse, savoring the frantic rhythm of your heartbeat beneath his hand.

Every thrust is punishing, deliberate, meant to remind you exactly who you belong to. Your body trembles beneath him, legs falling open wider on instinct as he drives into you, each snap of his hips rougher than the last. He watches you break apart under him. Your parted lips, glassy eyes, the helpless little gasps spilling out of you and it only spurs him on.

“You’ll say it,” he bites out, his teeth grazing along your jaw before pulling your head back by your throat. “You’ll scream it until this whole fucking building knows who’s ruining you.”

His grip around your throat had you floating somewhere between panic and euphoria. Your chest burned, lungs fighting for air, but the sharp lack of control only heightened the rush tearing through your body. Every thrust rattled you, your spine arching against the sheets as he used you like you were nothing but his.

The silk clung beneath your damp skin, his pace merciless, unrelenting. Your nails dug into the sheets, then into his arms when he shifted closer, forcing himself even deeper. The weight of his body pressed you down, trapping you, every nerve alive with heat and ache.

You clench tight around him, pleasure spiking so fast it stole what little breath you had left. Your thighs trembled violently, spreading wider without thought, chasing the high he dragged out of you with each brutal thrust.

You couldn’t form words, couldn’t plead, couldn’t beg, just the broken sounds spilling past your lips, swallowed by the heat of his body and the roughness of his grip.

It was sudden. Overpowering. Like being caught in a storm you couldn’t escape, your body wrecked beneath him, your climax tearing through you sharp and uncontrollable as he drove you straight into the edge without pause.

Your body went slack beneath him as your climax ripped through you, violent and unrestrained. You couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it. The way your walls clenched around him, the way your thighs quivered uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure flooded your system. It left you dazed, weak, trembling in his hold.

And still, he didn’t stop. His thrusts were punishing, dragging out every last aftershock until you were gasping, nails clawing at his shoulders, half-begging in broken whimpers you couldn’t piece into words. He held you down with one hand on your throat, owning you, taking exactly what he wanted as your body betrayed you over and over.

When he finally groaned against your ear, spilling deep inside you, the sound vibrated through your chest, anchoring you to the reality you’d been ignoring. Your chest heaved beneath him, hair damp against your skin, your body trembling from the intensity.

That’s when it hit you.

The shock burned hotter than the sweat on your skin, cutting through the haze of pleasure. You had just let him fuck you raw. No rules, no distance. The arrangement you’d agreed upon, the boundaries you both swore to keep shattered in an instant.

This wasn’t gifts or trips or money. This was sex. Real, messy, undeniable. His release still inside you, the soreness already blooming between your legs, the smell of him clinging to your skin, proof of what you’d just done.

Your lips parted, but no words came. Just a stunned, shaky breath, your mind struggling to catch up with what your body had already surrendered to.

As soon as Jake pulls out, your body reacts before your mind can. You jolt upright, clutching the sheets to your chest like a shield, breath ragged and uneven. Your skin still burns where he touched you, but your hands are trembling as you clutch the fabric tighter.

Your heart is a drum in your ears. Wide-eyed, you stare at the rumpled bed, at him, at nothing trying to piece together how it even happened. One minute, he was stone-cold and distant, barely acknowledging you. The next, he had you pinned beneath him, fucking you like you belonged to him.

Your gaze lifts to him, desperate, searching for something. An explanation, a word, even just a glance. But Jake doesn’t give you any of it. He doesn’t look at you at all.

He stands, muscles tense, and strides across the room without a word. A door clicks open, and moments later, the sound of running water fills the silence.

You sit frozen, clutching the sheets tighter, the weight of what just happened settling heavy in your chest.

What now? Do you leave? Stay? Was this the end of your arrangement or the start of something worse? Questions crashed into you all at once, your chest still rising and falling too quickly, lungs tight with panic.

The water shut off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You sat there stiff, clutching the sheets like they were the only thing tethering you to the room, mind blank yet buzzing all at once. A deer caught in headlights.

When the bathroom door finally opened, Jake stepped out, steam curling around him. A towel hung low on his hips, droplets running down his chest, his hair damp. He looked… calm. Too calm. The sharp edge of anger that had consumed him at the dinner party was nowhere to be found.

Jake didn’t look at you right away. He crossed the room like you weren’t even there, tugging open the closet doors and pulling out a pair of dark gray sweats. He slipped them on with casual ease, towel falling to the floor, moving through the motions of his night like nothing had just shattered between you.

You swallowed hard, throat dry. You thought maybe, just maybe, he would sit down, say something, acknowledge you. But instead, he pulled a plain black t-shirt from the drawer, tugged it over his head, and kept moving, humming under his breath as he sorted through a watch box on the dresser. Not even a glance.

The sting behind your eyes caught you off guard. You weren’t sure if it was humiliation or heartbreak. Maybe both.

This was what you had signed up for, wasn’t it? The gifts. The dinners. The trips. But not this. Not him walking away as if your body hadn’t just been his battlefield.

Your grip on the sheets tightened. You didn’t know if you should stay or get up, slip out the door while he was still distracted. But you stayed frozen, heart hammering, waiting for something that might never come.

Jake finally paused, hands on his hips, glancing at you over the dresser. His expression was unreadable, sharp.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said, voice low but cold, like ice sliding over fire.

No softness. No reassurance. Just that.

You nodded, swallowing hard, unsure if you were meant to respond. He didn’t wait for one. With one final glance, he slipped into the bed, pulling the covers up around him. His back was to you, his breathing already steady, as if the last hour hadn’t even happened.

You stayed frozen, heart still hammering, staring at the darkness of his room. Every instinct told you to run, to leave, to reclaim some control but the weight of your own desire and exhaustion kept you rooted.

After a long moment, you quietly rose, grabbing the sheets you’d been clutching and crept out of the bedroom, down the hall. Careful not to make a sound. The house was silent except for the distant hum of the city outside. Every step felt surreal, like you were walking in a dream you couldn’t wake up from.

By the time you reached the living room, the couch seemed impossibly small. You curled up, wrapping the blanket tightly around yourself, your body still trembling. Not entirely from the cold. Your mind raced, replaying the sudden, raw intimacy of the night, the harshness in his tone, the way he had just… left you there.

You shifted around, doing your best to settle into the couch. Though it wasn’t comfort. Not really. But it was safety, in a strange, fractured way. A place to breathe, to process.

And as your eyelids finally grew heavy, your body finally letting go, sleep claimed you. Uneasy, raw, still aching, and painfully aware that tomorrow, he’d wake up. And everything would be different.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Taglist: @hailthegodsong , @sanguinebats , @josh-iamyour-mama , @missmirador , @writingcold , @theweightofjake , @joshylanefleet

35 notes · View notes