seosracha

[seosracha]

academic comeback is truly never making a comeback it seems 😭 that fic was my first riize fic ever im so sad we never got to see it finished 💔 i also just logged back into this account after 7 months and i’ll definitely be checking your enhypen fics out since i love your work a lot!!

havent heard that name in a minute..🚬🚬🚬 no but on a serious note I miss them too:( i wanted to come back to it but honestly it just didn't feel right anymore (at least they got together..!)

[seosracha]

⸻ SAINT MATTHEW'S ACADEMY

─"do you know about all the filth that goes on in here?"

SYNOPSIS ⸻ being a smart kid comes with a lot of advantages; one of them being a full scholarship to one of the best schools in the country. one of the best school's that's filled to the brim with disgustingly rich teenagers. Heeseung knows you're not like them, and he also knows that'll be easy to take advantage of.

PAIRING ⸻ toxic!heeseung x innocentfem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, private school au, smut, fluff, angst (idek tbh)

TAGS ⸻ characters are all 18 or older, toxic relationships, misogyny, alcohol abuse, smoking, marijuana/cannabis mention, partying, underage drinking, foul language, cheating (not really though) power imbalance, abuse (punches are getting thrown..) , kinda love triangle?? , making out, oral sex (f. and m. receiving), virginity loss, p in v, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, tell me if i missed something!

WORDCOUNT ⸻ 21k

PART TWO

everything here is FICTIONAL, it is not real. this was created for entertainment purposes only. MINORS DNI.

“No Eunseok, I don’t want to go anywhere!” you grit your teeth, backing away from your older brother. 

He sighed, and with his hand pulled your wrist towards the doorway. You were acting like a brat, and he had absolutely no interest in fighting with you right now. From your standpoint, you had every reason to be behaving this way. 

“There are thousands- no, millions of people your age who would die for an opportunity like this, and you're going to act like a child? Grow up, Y/n” he let out a steady breath as an attempt to calm himself down. 

In some way, you put yourself in this situation. Flawless scores on all your exams, juggling multiple extracurriculars and excelling at every single one of them, participating in every Model UN you could get your hands on, making a name for yourself- being somebody. It all led to you being noticed by prestigious schools, who practically begged to host you, even though deep down, you were a nobody. 

Your parents weren't snobby rich people, who thrived off of other people's ideas and failure. They weren't greedy either, working normal 9 to 5 jobs. 

When you were merely 12 years old they had left to go work at your uncle's company overseas, hoping that it’ll allow them to make enough money to pay for your brother’s med school tuition and potentially have the money to fund a future clinic of his. They promised to come back as soon as Eunseok finished school and started a stable job. But they never did. 

Eunseok, who was 7 years older than you, was always the favorite child. No matter how well you did or how bad he did, Eunseok was number one in your parents' hearts. There was never a family reunion where Eunseok’s medical career as a surgeon wasn't brought up- and when it did end up getting shoved into the conversation, it didn't stop until all the lights turned off. 

And of course, you felt bad for your brother. He had to balance taking care of you and being a surgeon for fucks sake, but that didn't mean you couldn't feel lonely most of the time. You had a free hand when it came to inviting friends over, but unfortunately their strict parents and every other circumstance never allowed them to stay longer than one night. Your only family,  your older brother who you looked up to was just never there, and you just sank deeper into your loneliness whenever he called and apologized for a sudden surgery that came up. 

But still, Eunseok, was just perfect, you had no choice but to try and keep up with him. 

So when the letter from Saint Matthew’s Academy came in the mail, offering you a spot in their school, with the tuition fully paid for by them, you didn't even think twice. 

And now you regret that, badly. 

St. Matthews Academy was a private school next to the town you grew up in. It was also an exceptionally expensive place, with tuition fees racking up to about $80.000 per year. Going there would be a privilege to most people your age, but the students there saw it as a regular school without anything special to offer them. Even if they weren't going to inherit their parents’ company's, they were truly set up for the rest of their lives anyways. 

You hadn't really done any research on the school before accepting their offer, only aware of their students academic achievements and high level of education. The more you found out, the more the idea of being a student terrified you. 

You would stick out like a sore thumb amidst the successful people who had a chairman position prescribed before birth. 

“It’ll be okay, do you think if I let the fear get to me, I’d be a SNU alumni now?” Eunseok asked, focused on the road as he drove you right into the gates of your own, personal hell. 

“We get it, you finished SNU and are a surgeon now, blah blah blah” you said, and he rolled his eyes playfully. 

“I’m just trying to help you. I doubt those kids are going to be that bad. They have a reputation to upkeep anyways, can’t be caught bullying” he tried to calm you down, but everytime he opened his mouth, he just made it worse. 

“Eunseok, you’re making it worse” you murmured, tucking at the skin of your thumb. He placed his hand on yours, preventing you from continuing with your bad habits “That’s exactly why I’m scared. These kids are disgustingly rich, and people like us-  well we're like ants compared to them. They have an image to polish, and I have none of that” you continued, and he frowned lightly, his heart breaking at your, his little sisters, words. 

“Do you seriously think you got to be in this position cause you’re a nobody? I don’t think regular and undeserving people have been given a full scholarship to a school like Saint Matthew’s. Nobody has been given a scholarship from them really” Eunseok said, making you feel slightly more confident “I can turn around, you can withdraw, but I think you’ll regret that” he said, with a light smile which you reciprocated. 

Maybe you should have told him to turn around back then, maybe you should've denied the offer or thrown it away the moment you saw the letter with that heinous stamp. 

_____ 

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop thinking about what your first day was going to be like. Some dreams portrayed you as the future top 3 of the school, and some seemed to make you out to be the outcast loser who can’t seem to find anyone who’d befriend her. 

It was nearly impossible to get those images out of your head. You thought about lying about your background, falsifying stories about your parents who own giant multi-utility corporations that supply petrol and energy to half the country, but that was pointless. 

You could either be made fun of for lying or made fun of for being a ‘poor nobody’. None of them seemed right, but one didn't lead to being incredibly embarrassed for the rest of highschool. 

The building did not have any correlation with the one that you imagined, the one that you constantly dreamed about. It looked nothing like the modern, smart, couple story construction that clouded your mind beyond arrival, and because of their strict laws, pictures and videos of both the inside and outside were strictly prohibited. 

So all you had left was to make up your own assumptions, and the old fashioned, palace looking property was definitely not one of them. You assumed that the millions of dollars in tuition that flow into the headmaster's account every year could at least allow him to renovate the building. 

But it seemed as if the gray, dirty, moss covered outer walls had a special meaning you didn't quite understand. 

You definitely weren't a sucker for historical architecture, and this building looked more like a nightmare than a dream to you. 

At the front office, the lady had confiscated your phone, with a smile explaining why they do it, and asking you to pick it up after classes are over. She had a creepy aura surrounding her, and you begged for her small introduction to finish as soon as possible. 

“I’ll let Wonyoung, your class president, give you a tour around our school. She should be here in a moment, dear” she smiled eagerly at you, and you found it hard to reciprocate her seemingly innocent expression. 

You never expected Wonyoung to be an actual angel, her figure already shining brightly as she strides towards you. You wondered how it was possible for someone to make a school uniform look this good. Her hair was long and silky, and her bangs just looked fake with how fresh and bouncy they were. 

You smoothed down your uniform and fixed up your hair as she got closer to you and the eerie lady next to you. 

“You're the new student, right?” she waved at you, and shot you with a pretty smile. 

You had no idea how to behave, acknowledging that she probably came from a wealthy family that practically owns the country. 

But Wonyoung was a little different. Her parents didn't own any big corporations or participate in any other money making schemes. Both her mom and dad met on the set for a movie that later led them to become the highest paid actors in the industry. It was pretty comical to say she was different as she still was considered a product of nepotism in the modeling world that she was so active in. She hadn't even finished highschool, but had already walked for brands like Gucci, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Maison Margiela and more. Maybe it was her pretty face or just her parents' wild connections. 

“Mind if I give you a small tour? It can get complicated around here” she asked, her tone so delicate. 

If anything you should be thanking her for sparing you with a little bit of time, thanking her for even allowing someone like you to be in the presence of someone like her. 

You nodded your head not able to let a single word out, afraid to embarrass yourself. With a smile Wonyoung locked her arm with yours, and kept you close by her side as she showed you around the place. 

“This is the cafeteria, but I wouldn't recommend you going there, the food is awful” she said, and you laughed lightly at her expression. 

Was it awful cause it wasn't a three course meal with caviar, steak and truffles for dessert or was it actually not that good. You really did not fit in here and you haven't met anyone else.

“Well I see that guy is enjoying it” you commented, noticing a tall, skinny boy laughing with his friend as he consumed something you couldn't quite recognize. 

Wonyoung laughed, in the most elegant way possible, and her cheeks flushed a light shade of pink “That’s Park Sunghoon, my boyfriend. He will eat anything, seriously” she stated and you nodded with a chuckle. 

Park Sunghoon was son to Park Jiwon, the CEO of ParkJin Electronics. His mother had worked hard all her life to build up her own empire, resulting in him being raised mainly by nannies and his cousins. Still, he was spoiled and cocky, his family allegedly had royal roots, and even though he didn't know himself, he boasted about it every single occasion he got. He didn't seem to care much about studying, since he was the only child his mother ever had, he was next in line to inherit her electronic empire. Yet something in him felt the desire to prove to everyone that no matter what, he deserved to take over.  

He also surrounded himself with people of the same social status and net worth as him, so that’s probably why he treated Wonyoung so differently, even though she was his literal girlfriend. Wonyoung was rich, but she could never compare to the millions his mother earned yearly. 

Yet he was so good at pretending and gaslighting the girl into believing she's the bad person for lashing out on him after he called her ‘the type of person who polishes shoes for people like him’. He was just joking around, right? But the poor girl took it because the good moments overshadowed the absolute idiot Park Sunghoon was capable of being. 

“And next to him? Who’s that” you asked, politely pointing towards the blond boy next to him who’s jawline looked like it was shaped by Micheal Angelo himself. 

“That’s Jongseong, but we just call him Jay,” Wonyoung answered, looking at you with a pretty smile. Did everything she does have to be so annoyingly beautiful and perfect? 

Park Jay was born in Seattle, so he was the American heartthrob that flexed his posh English skills in order to pull girls he had no interest in having serious relationships with. His dad owned the biggest hospital in the country, and on top of that had plastic surgery salons opened in practically every city. His parents had divorced when his dad's businesses started to gain popularity and bring in more money. His father assumed that his wife no longer appealed to him, and she would just be like a parasite- living off of his success. And since Jay had been harshly raised by his rough father, he shared the same opinion about his mother. Not having a motherly figure present in his life, surrounding himself with his fathers girlfriends who were only 10 years older than him, he became a Andrew Tate worshiping incel who’s main focus was making money and convincing everyone to join his self-betterment program. 

“He’s nice, but I think his political and social views are a little far from the ones that girls like us have” she attempted to explain, and pretty quickly you understood he’s a misogynist. 

“I see, is your boyfriend the same?” you asked, trying to sound as polite as you can, since you didn't quite know where Wonyoung wouldl draw the line. 

“No, at least I’d hope he isn't” she chuckled lightly, and slowly tugged you towards another large hall in the school “He was raised by women, his dad passed away when he was around 3, so I guess he has at least some respect for us” she added, and you nodded in understanding. 

“This school is really freaking big, I don’t know if I’ll be able to find my way around here” you commented and she chuckled at your use of words. 

“You can say fucking, I really don’t mind” Wonyoung looked at you, and you breathed out a steady breath “I don’t want you to think of us as some posh, elegant and royal like teenagers who use a fork and knife every time they eat. I genuinely think most of us are pretty normal considering our backgrounds” she explained, and you had to stifle a laugh. 

Although Wonyoung seemed like an incredibly nice and sweet girl, she truly had no idea how privileged she was. Truly, her only worry was you not thinking she’s a snobby rich kid. And that applied to all of them, you just didn't see yourself empathizing with these people, seeing how you were raised in two completely different worlds. 

“It’s my first time talking to people like you, don't have much experience” you smiled and raised your hands in guilt. 

She laughed at your action, and asked “What do you mean, what do your parents do then?” 

You didn't want to answer that question, you didn't even want anyone to ask it in the first place. But you had to answer honestly. 

“Both of my parents live overseas, but they're no one special. My dad is a construction worker and my mom has a simple office job” you said, and she didn't seem to laugh or find your parents’ profession amusing in any way “I live with my brother, he’s a surgeon” you added, and she seemed to light up at the mention. 

“I want to be a surgeon too!” she beamed and you smiled as she ignored and didn't care about the fact that you weren't the future heiress of a major conglomerate “I need to speak to your brother one day, maybe he’ll give me some advice” she added and with a smile you assured her you’ll set up a meeting for the two of them one day. 

She pulled you through a dark, narrow, dimly lit hallway to a giant room with a high ceiling where most of the students were currently spending their time. 

“This is the common room” she said, as the two of you stood in the entryway. 

Laughter ringed in your ears as you attempted to examine every student present in the area. 

“Let me introduce you to Niki!” she beamed and pulled your wrist towards the unknown boy. 

Niki was the son of the owners of the biggest pharmaceutical company in the country. Even though he had no interest in taking over the business, his younger sister wasn't seen as competent enough to take over, so he was forced to be the next CEO. His parents and Jay’s father were close friends, planning on merging the two companies by arranging a marriage between Jay’s younger sister and Niki. His true passion was dance, he hated everything that had to do with medication, but he knew there was no chance he’d ever get to pursue his passion for a living. 

“Niki!” she called to the boy, and he turned around, swiftly taking off his headphones. 

“Not gonna go shop for makeup with you today, forget it” he claimed, not even noticing you standing right next to her. 

“Oh please, as if I’d want to go with you” she sneered and he chuckled under his breath. “I wanted to introduce you to Y/n, she’s new here!” she continued, and he took a judging look at you. 

Or at least it felt as if he was judging you, scanning you up and down as if you weren't wearing the same exact uniform as him. But quickly he shot you with a small smile, and stuck his hand out for you to shake. You applied and as nicely as you could, returned the expression. 

“You’ll regret coming here, Y/n” he warned with a laugh, and you chuckled, but deep down felt like maybe he wasn't joking. 

“Stop scaring her” Wonyoung said sternly, and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow “I like it here, don’t listen to him Y/nnie” 

“Maybe because you're a fucking nerd who’s a teachers pet?” he asked sarcastically, and Wonyoung just rolled her eyes playfully. 

You stood there listening to their bickering, already getting a weird feeling that you didn't really belong here, these people were not the usual kind you surround yourself with. 

“What brings you here?” he asked, which turned your attention back to the two people in front of you. 

“I got an invitation, full ride scholarship and all” you explained and his eyes widened. 

“You're a smart girl, aren't you?” he asked, and you chuckled lightly. 

“You could say that, I guess” you said, and he looked towards Wonyoung. 

“I guess you’ll finally have a smarty pants friend to talk to about the theory of relativity, or whatever you call it” he cooed, and she flipped him off. 

“Jake used to be my nerdy bestie, well until he started hanging out with Jay and attending his dumbass courses” she laughed looking towards you, and he did the same nodding his head. 

“Let’s be honest, ever since they created their little frat circle with Heeseung and Sunghoon, they suffered insane brain damage. But the courses were also bad enough” Niki inquired, and she laughed, agreeing with him. 

Jake’s parents were real estate giants, owning at least half of the properties in the city. He had been raised with the thought of taking over his parents’ business, so he was actually the only one in his friend circle that studied and strived to achieve something. His mother or father would never let him take over if he had nothing in his head. Jake actually wanted to become a real estate agent, because after seeing his parents succeed, he wanted to be just like them. 

“What exactly are these courses about?” you asked, and Niki quickly opened his phone to show you the website Jay and his computer geek friend Jungwon set up. 

You didn't even bother asking the boy how he managed to sneak a phone in, assuming the one lying in the basket at the front desk, was probably one of his many devices. 

“He tries to convince men that they need to unleash their inner sigma to fully embrace their manliness or something like that” he explained as you grabbed his phone to look through the website. 

It looked like a failed IT project they had to do in class, and honestly you didn't understand why anyone would trust him enough to receive life advice. 

“I can't believe that people actually listen to his advice” you commented, handing back Niki his phone. 

“That’s not even the worst of it, he genuinely thinks that if men were to become pregnant, they would give birth in two weeks since they’re stronger, something along those lines” Wonyoung added, and you couldn't help but burst out laughing. 

Maybe you were getting along with them, but the eerie atmosphere around you and the blank stares you received from other students grounded you. 

“Yo new girl, wanna come to a party tonight?” Niki turned towards you with a questioning expression. 

You have been studying your whole life, cramming information until late hours of the night, which resulted in you having to give up your social life or anything of that sort. You had friends, but never the time to go out with them. So this would be your first party ever, and you had no idea how to behave. 

“Sure,” you replied, not giving it any more thought. If you started overthinking it, you’d probably deny the request. 

“Put in your number, I’ll send you the address” he gave you his phone once again, and you swiftly typed in your digits, saving your contact under ‘Song Y/n’. 

“Show me your schedule, I’ll walk you to your next class” Wonyoung turned to you, and you dug up the crumbled piece of paper you received at the front office. 

_______

Niki had eventually texted you the address, offering a ride along with it, unless you already had one. You gladly accepted his offer, although his kindness seemed weird and suspicious to you. 

Maybe you just weren't used to people being nice to you simply out of human decency and without any ulterior motives, but someone as high up and rich as Niki or Wonyoung should not be bothered by someone like you. They definitely shouldn't be offering you rides in their expensive sports cars. 

“Oh c’mon Wony, we gotta give our transfer the princess treatment” he said, shooing her away from the passenger seat with his hand. 

She rolled her eyes playfully, but agreed to give up her front seat, which you tried to convince her to take back for a little over a minute. 

“No Y/nnie, you're probably going to meet our little devil tonight, you need as much peace as you can get before that” she assured, and you just shook your head at her reluctance. 

“And who exactly are you talking about?” you asked, turning around to once again face Wonyoung who already got comfortable in the back seat.

“I’ll ask you that question tomorrow morning, it’s more fun that we keep it a secret for now” she giggled childishly, and Niki nodded his head approvingly at her idea. 

You sighed sarcastically, and tried to remember any person they didn't go into full detail about just a couple of hours ago. Jay, Jake, Sunghoon, all of them kept getting mixed up in your head as you had no real idea as to what the three looked like. You passed by the cafeteria with Wonyoung earlier, where you didn’t quite register what Jay and Sunghoon looked like. Maybe it’s someone completely different, or someone affiliated with the three guys you had a fair amount of information about. 

“You drink, don’t you?” Niki asked, turning his head to face you for just a mere second, before focusing his eyes back on the road. 

“Not really” you answered unbothered. 

Drinking was nothing to be proud about anyways, and assuming Niki doesn't want to lose his recently acquired drivers license, he probably wasn't going to do it either. 

“Same here. Me and Wony don’t drink” he smiled “But the rest of them, their a different kind of fucked up. Especially your precious, sweet, innocent boyfriend, Wonyoung” he added, and looked at the girl through his rear view mirror. 

She screwed her face jokingly “Sunghoon doesn't drink that much, at least now that he’s with me” she defended, and he scoffed. 

“And you’re stupid for thinking he’s not getting shit faced every weekend with his demonic cult of a friend group” he commented, and she huffed in annoyance crossing her arms. 

“Y/nnie, you know what Hoon looks like, right?” she turned her attention to you. 

You shook your head, causing her to pull out her phone in order to present you with pictures of her beloved boyfriend. 

He was smoking fucking hot, but his expression and lack of emotion on every picture made you think that maybe Niki was right, he truly looked like he didn't give a single fuck about the girl. Well it seems to be working out for them so far, so who are you to butt in. 

“Keep an eye on him, I need to prove that my boyfriend is not the alcoholic and druggie you-” she pointed her finger at Niki “make him out to be” 

“No problem” you smiled and she excitedly held your hand. 

“Just when you do catch him chugging down shot glasses like a pig, don't tell her cause she won't believe you anyways” he murmured, but the both of you heard him anyways. 

You turned to Wonyoung and rolled your eyes playfully which she gave you a hushed giggle at, agreeing with whatever you were thinking about. 

The road felt like it had been going on forever, you swore you already saw the same street signs and lanterns a couple minutes back. It felt like Niki had been going in circles, but those thoughts were most likely caused by your absence in this area of town. 

After what felt like an eternity in Niki’s uncomfortable low-floor car, that was impossible to get comfortable in, he had finally pulled over into a gravel filled space. In the distance a modern house was illuminated by colorful lights, and the music could be quietly heard from the place you were standing in. 

The interior of the place was suffocating you, the music giving you a headache, the smell of cigarettes, weed, alcohol and sweat seeping into your skin, as you and Wonyoung pushed through the crowd. Wonyoung didn't seem to be affected as she pushed through the bodies in order to find her boyfriend who she must have missed terribly for the past five hours. 

“Sunghoonnie!” she beamed, and his body instantly turned to the sound of her squeaky voice. 

He was hard to read, you didn't exactly know if he was excited to see her or praying for her to leave him and his friends alone. He held a glass with a brownish liquid in his hand, and you knew for a fact Wonyoung was trying to ignore it or pretend it wasn't what everyone else knew it was. 

Sunghoon was obviously drinking whiskey. 

Even they're choice of alcohol was so different from what you knew back in your public school. Those kids could barely afford the cheapest liquor, and here you were witnessing Sunghoon and his friends downing bottles worth more than the pocket money your brother gave you every month. 

“Oh great, two Wonyoung’s. Can’t women just stick to painting their nails and doing their makeup? This is not the place for you” Jay commented as he finally noticed the two of you. 

“Did your daddy teach you that? I wasn't talking to you, dickhead” the girl next to you answered with a sarcastic pout to her face. 

“I’m Jake” the brown haired boy stuck his hand out “You're new, right?” 

Wonyoung had already let you go to entertain her boyfriend who obviously was not having it. Even as she was eating his face, he wasn't half as passionate about it as she was. 

“Yeah” you took his hand “Y/n” 

He had a devilish grin as he and the blond boy exchanged glances. 

“So where are you coming from?” Jake asked, but his eyes weren't even focused on your face, instead staring right into your partially exposed chest. 

You sighed, and leaned against the wall “Doesn't matter” maybe you had a terrible judgment of character, but you knew that admitting to coming from a public, low income school would end you right then and there. 

“You’re right, it doesn't” he smirked, hoping that you had understood his intentions by now, “Want a drink?” he asked, turning around to unveil a couple glasses and a bottle of Dalmore whiskey. 

“I don't really drink” you explained, trying to keep up with your nonchalant facade that you prayed would spare you some embarrassment tonight. 

It felt stressful to be around them, their demeanor intimidating. 

“Oh c’mon, one little glass never hurt anyone” Jay uttered, already pouring a glass that he was shoving into your hand a couple seconds later. 

He looked incredibly hot doing so, his slicked back blond hair and white button down almost making you forget he’s a mentally unstable and misogynistic idiot. 

Did they all have to be so irresistibly hot? Was being rich not enough? 

“Drink it, there’s a reward afterwards” he added, as his attempts to place the glass in your hand turned out to be successful. 

“Only if you’re a good girl” Jake added, and Jay with a devilish smile hit his shoulder. 

You examined the glass, remembering all the stories of boys spiking drinks with drugs that Eunseok told you about, but all that seemed so unimportant right now. 

You promised yourself to never go against what your mind told you, but that was broken the minute you downed the glass, the unfamiliar, burning flavor coating your throat. 

“Atta girl” Jake praised, as he took the glass from your hand.

“Women are so easy, it’s crazy” Jay whispered, assuring you wouldn't hear his words “Let me pour you another one” he said, his voice a little louder this time. 

You shook your head, but he seemed to ignore that all together, grabbing the cup and filling it to the brim once again. 

“Drink up” Jake slurred, and focused his eyes onto the way your throat looked while you swallowed the liquid. 

They were disgusting. The way they objectified you, the way they looked at you like you were going to let them hit without any problems. 

The boys you knew would make jokes, but they’d never act on it like Jay and Jake did. 

You slammed the glass on the table where it was previously laid, and without a word turned away from the two men who were clearly confused about your sudden departure. 

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” Jake called, and with a forced smile you mouthed a ‘Maybe’. 

“She still doesn't know about all the filth that goes on in here, eh?” Jay chuckled devilishly, and Jake smirked, pouring himself a drink in the cup you left behind. 

You had already thought that Wonyoung and Niki were completely different from the people you used to surround yourself with, but after meeting Jake and Jay, you cursed yourself for even thinking that. You had given up your social life, so meeting new people regularly was never something that you did, but you never met someone so deranged. Were the girls at this school all so easy and compliant to their orders? You just wondered where their ego came from. 

Squeezing through all the damp bodies was definitely a challenge, but finding a quiet and empty room surely made it worth it. 

The room was practically empty, you assumed something that was supposed to resemble a guest bedroom, but you doubted any guest would wanna sleep here. A single bed in the middle of the large room was not enough. 

You closed the door behind you with a quiet squeak, and threw yourself on the bed, your eyes facing the ceiling. 

Amongst the weird smell that surrounded the room a voice called you “You're the new girl, aren't you?” 

You didn't notice the open balcony door upon entering. 

Your body automatically turned to face the voice, a handsome and presumably tall boy sat on one of the plastic chairs. Smoke circled around him as he looked at you with heavy eyelids, taking another hit from the joint between his fingers. 

You leaned your head on the palm of your hand “How do you know?” 

“News spreads fast around here. You don’t know, do you?” he gave you a childish smile, and with a nod to his head he without a word offered you to smoke with him, which you declined. 

“What’s your name?” you asked him, his dark eyes bringing discomfort to your body. 

“Why should I tell you, transfer?” he laughed, and you stiffened up at his answer. “It’s Heeseung” he said after a moment, noticing that you were not enjoying his jokes. 

Lee Heeseung was the youngest son of Lee Guwon and Kim Shinhye, the founders and owners of the largest hotel line in the country. They just recently went international, opening yet another hotel-restaurant in the heart of Singapore. His older sister, Lee Rina, had no interest in the company, firmly convinced that it's a greedy industry. She moved to Norway to study and just never came back. But his older brother, Lee Haejun, was different. He was stuck on the idea of becoming the next CEO. After both him and Heeseung were old enough to understand what benefits came with being a leader of a major hotel line, they stopped treating each other like brothers, instead focusing on the rivalry that was brewing. They wanted so badly to prove to their father who's more competent, who deserves it more, that at one point it became too much. 

Heeseung at one point no longer wanted any of it. He just wanted his brother back. Haejun just never was the same brother Heeseung learned to love. He didn't care. Heeseung felt like he lost both of his siblings although they weren't actually gone. 

“I don’t think they mentioned you” you murmured, trying to recall the conversations you had with Wonyoung and Niki. 

“Wonyoung and Niki? Probably because they don't like me” he laughed, and put out his blunt on the tiles of the balcony, throwing what was left into a jar filled with water. 

“They like everyone, I think it’s a ‘you’ problem” you assumed, and he scoffed. 

His body sluggishly stood up from the chair, as he tried to not fall over the balcony “Both of them are fake as fuck, and I don’t think you’re one to judge” 

You sighed “You don’t know them” 

“I know them better than you, transfer” he chuckled, “They always cuddle up to new students, just like Wonyoung did to Jake, and whenever they go slightly out of line, they drop them” he explained, and you foolishly didn't believe his words, choosing to stand with your new friends who you in reality, knew nothing about. 

“I don’t know, I don't think the Jake that I just met, and got forced to drink by, is a good example” you murmured, playing with your hair, avoiding eye contact with the boy. 

He had this dark aura surrounding him, his hooded eyes just adding into his image, making him look much more scary. 

He slowly moved towards you, accompanying you on the silk covered bed. That’s when you could truly analyze his face; bloodshot, brown eyes, a curve to his lips, his nose slightly pointed and eyebrows straight. His skin was glistening, a soft tan to it. He looked at you so intensely, and you couldn't quite reciprocate, scared of his intimidating presence. 

“Jake was always like this, they just didn't know how to handle him” he smiled, his hand inching closer to where your legs lied “They love saying that Jay ruined him, but he didn't even have to do that” 

“What do you mean by having to do that? Why would he have to?” you asked, as your body froze, not allowing you to move further away from him. 

He didn't stop attempting to close the gap between the two of you “You know what I mean” he smirked “This isn't the place you think it is, pretty girl. We can't have a goody two shoes prancing around” his smile was straight, as his hand moved to sooth your lower thigh. 

You never were this close to a boy before. 

“I still don't get it” you said, your voice trembling as he moved further up. 

“You don't need to, you’ll see for yourself. Soon, don't worry” he cooed, and you could feel his sinister words burn through your skin. 

“You like this? Tell me” he asked, his grip on your thigh tightened, and you felt words get stuck in your throat. 

“ I don’t know you, Heeseung” you answered out of breath. 

He liked the way his name slipped from your lips, your tone mellow and soothing. He could definitely get used to it. 

“You don’t need to know everyone you want to have a little fun with” his eyes twinkled slightly, as he spoke softly, trying to distract you from his touch moving to places you  probably wouldn't like him being in. 

“Do you do this to every girl you just meet?” you piqued, and he chuckled, finally taking out his hand from under your dress in order to move a strand of hair out of your face. 

“Only the ones I find pretty” he answered. 

Heeseung was such a lightweight, he couldn't stop his smile and laughter as he played with you, knowing you could pretend, but not resist him. He wanted to undress you right there and then, behind an unlocked door, which he’d hoped some disgusting pervert like Jake would open, they could perhaps have you together, share your body. But he was smarter than that. He couldn't alienate you so early on. 

“Maybe another time” you murmured, giving up your previous position to stand up from the bed. 

He didn't let you, standing up with you, blocking you from walking to the door. He stumbled a little bit, but managed to hold you down. 

“You wanted to get to know me, what happened to that?” he whispered. 

“I never said that” you replied, and attempted once again to leave the room. 

No one has ever had this effect on you. You didn't truly want to leave, not only his firm stance was keeping you away from that door. 

You had boyfriends, but all of them were too scared to even hold your hand in public, not to mention kiss you. So you were aware of these things, but not familiar with them. 

“Why do you have to be so tough? I just want to make you feel good? What’s the crime in that?” he cooed, and brought his hand up to caress your cheek. 

“I always wanted it to be special, not some one night stand” you voiced, and he hummed. 

It felt so weird and embarrassing to talk to him like this. You didn't know him. You also couldn't say no, cause some part of you wanted it too. 

Maybe it’s because you wanted to fit in, maybe because you didn't want to be any different from the people that went to this school. But you’d always be different- as long as your parents weren't owners of a giant conglomerate or business, you’d always be different. 

“My sweet girl is a virgin? That’s okay, don’t be embarrassed” he cooed, and squeezed your hand tightly. 

You never knew how hard it is to be sober and talk to a high person. He just didn't fully comprehend the environment that surrounded him, not a single ounce of fear or embarrassment in his veins, just nothingness. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked with a soft voice.

Heeseung knew exactly what he was doing, he knew exactly how his slurred words sounded and how they affected you. 

You nodded, and he grabbed your jaw, pulling you into his embrace. Nothing could have prepared you for his wet, plump lips that molded perfectly into yours. You felt so good against him, and he couldn't find himself pulling away, the bulge in his pants growing as you fingers slightly brushed along the longer strands of hair on the back of his head. 

It was all so new to you. Maybe it was the alcohol that Jake and Jay forced down your throat, or maybe you just couldn't help but naturally feel attracted to Heeseung. It’s been barely 24 hours, and you’ve broken all the promises you made to yourself. 

While you were overthinking, Heeseung wondered just how long until he gets to fuck your pretty, virgin hole.  

“Mmm, it wasn't that hard, was it?” he smiled as he was forced to pull away out of lack of air, his eyes practically closing on him. 

You avoided his gaze, a small smile on your swollen lips. He laughed softly, and grabbed your hand in his. 

“I just want to help you. You’re a big girl, you should know how the world works” he cooed, dumbing you down. But you accepted it. Every word of his you took in and analyzed. Maybe he was right. 

He was this big, important rich guy from an important family, and you were just living in his world. You were nothing like him, his worries surrounded taking over the company or not, while you had to wonder if you had the money to go out with your friend on the weekend. You could try, but you’ll never be the same. 

And Heeseung knew that. He knew how much power he had over you simply because his bank account was decorated by nothing less than quadruple digits. 

“I don’t think you should be hanging out with Wonyoung and Niki. They're fake, you know?” he whispered, and focused his eyes on you “Let me be the one you come to when you need help, okay?” 

You nodded, and he just hummed in approval, liking the way you agreed with anything he said. 

You knew he was treating you like a child, babying you and bossing you around like he even had any right to do so, but you didn't find yourself stopping him either. 

To you he spoke with such delicacy, and he paid attention to you in a way no one ever has. Heeseung was different from anyone you encountered, and that’s exactly what pulled you in, forcing you to uncover more about him. 

But he just liked how you gave into his words way easier than he thought you would. He never knew it would be this easy to manipulate you. Heeseung never expected you to so naively believe that Wonyoung and Niki were the ones who were going to do you wrong, that they were the ones to cuddle up to new students in order to drop them just moments later. He had you where he wanted you and it didn't even take him a full hour. 

______

“You didn’t text me last night, did you get home alright?” Wonyoung asked, settling down next to you in the study hall. 

You ignored her gaze, her shuffling and moving, making an annoyed groan escape from your lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied swiftly, turning your attention back to the worksheet in front of you. 

Heeseung’s words had stuck with you. You couldn’t fathom the idea of Niki and Wonyoung, one of the nicest, most welcoming people you have ever met, being bullies. But perhaps that was the reason for their warm introduction. They wanted you to trust them. 

Niki, noticing that Wonyoung had finally joined you in the study hall, turned around in his chair, taking out one of his airpods. 

“Did you find who we were talking about in the car? A special someone told me they saw you together last night” Niki smiled widely like an idiot, and Wonyoung giggled, awaiting your answer. 

You scoffed “The so-called devil” and murmured “Heeseung, right? He was very nice, I don’t get it” 

They laughed, and you felt something twist inside of you at the sound of their forced posh, and elegant laughter. 

“That’s the point. He’s nice at first, to get you to like him, trust him, and then he strikes” Niki told, and to you it sounded like he was describing his little mutual admiration circle with Wonyoung. 

“I don’t know, honestly. He seemed like a good person” you inquired quietly, trying to focus on the work you had to do. 

“Let me guess, he asked for consent, or said he ‘just wants to help you’, and you believed he’s a respectful guy? Y/n don’t be so naive” Wonyoung said sternly, and you scoffed, remembering how her boyfriend’s best friends treated you. Sunghoon was probably no different, so who was she to judge? 

“You're dating Sunghoon, Wonyoung. Mind you, he’s one of the all so bad Heeseung’s friends” 

Niki and Wonyoung looked at each other confused, wondering why you were suddenly being so cold and distant. 

“He wasn’t like that always,” she said, and you looked at her questioning. 

“You think people can change so drastically, just like that? He always had it in him, he just found the right people to unleash it with, that’s all” you answered, and she felt her body shift slightly. 

Sunghoon transferred to Saint Matthews in his sophomore year, after studying abroad in an international school in Singapore. No one could really know if Sunghoon was any different before he joined, because he almost immediately hit it off with Heeseung, and his friend group. 

“You don’t know what you're talking about” Niki said, with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Oh kill me then. All I know is the shitty little gig you’re playing on me. I know what you guys do to new students- shape them to be your perfect little servant, and then drop them when it stops being amusing to you. Just like you did to Jake. So stop trying to blame everything on Heeseung when you know damn well he's not a bad person” you replied frustrated, collecting all your things, and standing up to leave the space. 

Niki and Wonyoung were stunned at your words, following you until you disappeared out the door. 

They realized you truly had met Heeseung, and that there was no turning back now. 

Just like any girl, he had you tied to his leash, and they were powerless. 

____

“Yeah, it’s crazy. I didn’t expect her to fold so easily” Heeseung laughed, as he downed another shot of tequila Jay stole from his dads alcohol cabinet. His father owned so many bottles he probably wouldn’t notice one of them went missing. 

Just like he didn’t notice his son's worsening alcoholic tendencies. 

“No trust me, she didn’t even fight back that much when we offered her whiskey” Jake sneered, and Jay grinned evilly. 

Jay was the first one to notice you. He caught a glimpse of you as you stood so shyly in the cafeterias entryway, Wonyoung happily talking to you, as you looked around the place. He didn’t recognize your face.  

You were pretty to him. Your face gleaned with innocence, and he could smell the way you were so intimidated by the people and sinister atmosphere of the school. He couldn’t even bother listening to whatever Sunghoon was going on about next to his ear, focused on only you. He knew exactly what happened to sweet girls like you, and he couldn’t wait for it. 

And maybe at one point in time he could have you too. His big hands would slowly take off your shirt, his fingers slipping down under your jeans, pressing against your pulsing core. You’d tell him to stop, and he’d only laugh in your ear, unbuckling his belt. 

“Wonyoung said she flipped off on them today when they mentioned you” Sunghoon tuned to Heeseung, pouring himself another shot “Niki said it’s like this with every girl, and she totally went bonkers on them or some shit” he laughed before his face twisted as the burning liquid slid down his throat. 

“That’s so pathetic. She doesn’t even know him” Jake chuckled, and leaned back in his seat, his back melting into the soft cushion. 

“That’s like the whole point, she isn’t supposed to know,” Heeseung noted, and they nodded slightly. “And I don’t think that’s more pathetic than Wonyoung leeching onto Sunghoon even though he doesn’t even hide the fact he doesn’t like her in the slightest” 

Jay scoffed sarcastically “Defending her so quickly, sure” he hummed, and Heeseung rolled his eyes. 

“My mom got her a campaign with our company, and now she thinks we’re gonna get married. It’s so annoying” Sunghoon explained, and they laughed. 

“Then just breakup with her. She needs you, but you don’t need her, dude” Jake commented, and Sunghoon shook his head lively. 

“She’s nice to have around. And it’s not like I don’t like her at all, she just gets on my nerves” he explained. 

“When my mom pissed off my dad, she got divorce papers handed to her, and kicked out the door. Women are supposed to serve men, not be an obstacle. All she is, is an obstacle. You’re taking over your mom’s company, you can’t let her get in the way” Jay turned to Sunghoon, who just pretended to listen to his nonsense. 

Maybe Jay was one of his best friends, but he couldn’t bear listening to his bullshit. He grew up around women- a single mother, his nannies who were strictly women (since his mother didn’t trust men around her only child), and cousins who were practically only girls. He knew women could achieve things alone, his mother being his best example. 

“So, what is your plan?” Jake averted his gaze to Heeseung, who didn’t seem to be amused by the conversation surrounding you and Wonyoung. 

“Was there ever a plan? She doesn’t even put up a fight, and already blew up on her new friends. This won’t be hard” he answered, and Jake nodded, satisfied with Heeseung’s answer. 

“I think you guys are wasting your time, honestly” Sunghoon commented. 

Jay looked at him annoyed “You and your feminist bullshit again” he murmured, and didn’t even bother pouring the substance into his shot glass, drinking straight from the bottle. 

“Jesus Christ, Jay. Just cause I have the tiniest percentage of respect for women, doesn’t mean I’m some fucking feminist. I’m not stopping you from seducing that girl, I just think it’s a waste of time. If you want pussy so bad, just find yourself a hook up, it’s not that hard” he answered, and Jay seemed to accept his answer, too tired to start another fight about this with his friend. 

“We’re only 19, Sunghoon. It won't hurt to have some fun while we can” Jake piqued, and with a swift movement of his hand, grabbed the bottle from the floor, tilting it to pour the rest of liquid into his mouth. 

“I just think that's kind of unappreciative” he murmured, and all of them turned to him. Jay rolled his eyes and with a sigh ushered Sunghoon to continue “A shit load of kids our age don't get to have half the opportunities we do, so if I were you I wouldn't fuck around so much, but actually put in the work to maybe prove that we aren't fucking imbeciles who just sit around and get chauffeured all day” he explained, and they all looked at him with a confused gaze. 

“Says the one who is failing practically all his classes. And what does any of that have to do with Y/n? What do you like her or something? You can hit if you want, it’s an open game” Jay laughed, and Sunghoon sighed.

But he wasn't annoyed, just incredibly frustrated that none of his friends understood what he was trying to convey to them. 

He didn't study, at least not much, and even though he was always aware of the fact that he will most definitely take over his mothers company, he didn't quite like the idea of people thinking he only did because there were no other options. In some way he wanted to earn it, or at least feel like he did deserve it. 

“It’s most definitely not an open game” Heeseung commented, and Jay looked at him with wide eyes. 

“What? C’mon dude, she’s some public school transfer, it’s just fun and games. Don't start being all protective and jealous over her” he scoffed, this being the second time that Heeseung made a comment of that sort about you. 

Jay didn't like this new found protectiveness Heeseung had acquired for you even though barely 24 hours ago he was making equally nasty and perverted comments about you. 

“You're being an asshole today, you know that right?” Heeseung started, his eyes scanning the room, avoiding Jay. 

“I’m being an asshole? All of you suddenly started acting like some fuckass henpecked husbands, when this would be the exact behavior you’d make fun of just a month ago” he groaned, gritting his teeth. 

“I’m sorry Jay that your mom doesn't love you, and your dad only sees you as a token of business, but we weren't raised like that” Sunghoon said, standing up from his seat, ready to leave. 

“That’s fucked up Hoon” Jake whispered, looking at Jay’s spechless expression. 

“You know what else is fucked up Jake? That Jay is a fucking misogynist and Heeseung is some otherworldly type of addict and no is trying to help them. I have been the only person who has been putting in the slightest amount of effort to try and get them help, but I can't possibly do it alone. That’s fucked up Jaeyun. I’m leaving” he blew up, grabbing all his things, and with a tired sigh he left the living room, going straight for the door. 

It was true. Maybe Sunghoon was an idiot and sometimes acted like a huge asshole, but he was right. He loved his friends and seeing them ruin and throw their lives away hurt him. But everyone who was caught up in the same wind, didn't seem to notice. 

“Call me when you fucking grow up, Sunghoon” Jay shouted, an angered expression plastered all over his face as the door slams abruptly. 

All three of them sat in silence as they tried to figure out what happened in the span of just a couple minutes. How did the conversation come down to Jay and Heeseung having issues, and why was Sunghoon suddenly trying to act all sweet and caring when he never did care.

 Or at least they didn't notice the countless times Sunghoon tried to stop them, but to no avail. 

“I think I’m gonna go too,” Heeseung said, after a moment of dead silence. 

Without a word, Jay and Jake nodded, still not quite present in the moment. 

That’s exactly how Heeseung ended up in your home, dumping all his issues onto you as you attempted to comfort him with a slight brush of your fingers against his soft hair. 

Your outbreak with Wonyoung and Niki, left you feeling alone once again. Those thoughts kept eating you alive, but you knew that's exactly what they wanted. They wanted you to desperately crawl back to them, begging for another chance as you cried out an apology. 

You knew that coming back to them would only prove this (untrue) point of them using you and many others for their own pleasure. Turning around, and apologizing would hurt your pride beyond repair. 

And it wasn't like Heeseung was making this up either. His heart genuinely cracked at the sight of his friends fighting. 

They fought, all the time, but there was no comparing this to a fight over who gets to take the first hit or who gets to play the better character, to Sunghoon leaving completely, his harsh words still lingering in the air. 

He wasn't an addict. He was a normal teenager doing normal teenager things. He wasn't wrong for being curious.

“I’m happy that you stood up for me today, at study hall” he said, his voice low as your touch was putting him in a sleepy state. 

“How do you know about that?” you asked, not even having the time to tell him about it. 

He smiled, rolling on his side to face you “Sunghoon told me” 

“Are you really not mad at me?” you tilted your head curiously. 

He laughed, and lifting himself from your lap, he grabbed your hand in his. You could feel his warm touch embrace you fully, the action alone was enough to calm your uneasy heart. 

“No one stands up for me. I could never be mad at you for being on my side even though you barely know me” he admitted, and it made your plush lips form into a small smile. 

“Your friends never stand up for you? I find that hard to believe, Hee” 

He likes the way his name slips from your lips, the usage of the nickname forcing him to stifle the growing, uncomfortable feeling in his pants. He hated the fact that he had to control himself around you. But still, he loved the innocent look on your face as you were so oblivious to the boner in his pants. 

“They just don't know how to, I think,” he said in a whisper. “They're too caught up in their own lives, and I don't blame them. They have a lot on their plate as it is” he added, his lips forming into a straight smile, as he tried to look apologetic in front of you. 

Heeseung wanted you to see him as this complex, emotional being that's only purpose on earth is to help others. His financial situation wasn't helping him create this image, he feared that you’d think he’s just searching for problems, wanting to experience life with all the hardships that a person like him doesn't usually get bothered by. 

But you never thought so, you viewed Heeseung the exact way he wanted you to. You believed in every word he said. If only he knew that though, his cocky nature would probably fight its way to domination. 

“You’re a good friend, Heeseung” you smiled, squeezing his hand tighter. He chuckled lightly, looking at you with the same straight smile “You have me now, you know that? You said you’d help me whenever, and I want to do the same for you” 

You vividly remember his lips on yours. You can recall exactly how he tasted and how he felt against your own skin. He helped you reach some otherworldly ecstacy without going further than a simple touch. You knew you wanted him to be more, but it was too early for that admission, too early to let yourself sink in that feeling. 

You didn't understand what was going on between the two of you, where this connection was heading, and in some way it thrilled you. You couldn't possibly be friends, not after what he said that night. 

“I hope you know I meant everything I said” he uttered, and you slowly nodded, trying to recall every word that slipped from his pretty lips “I think you’re special” he added. 

Heeseung didn't know himself if this was all fake, cause at that moment it felt too real to him. He was speaking from his heart, in some way. 

Lee Heeseung was beautiful, the closest you’ll get to any godly figure. He couldn't possibly be flawed in any way. 

But there were some things the boy wouldn't even admit to himself. All the fighting, and neglecting, made him out to be this way. He always longed for the type of love no one but a parent could give him. He wanted to be loved so much it picked him apart. Heeseung never experienced what it’s like to care for someone so much, to care for someone unconditionally. 

And as the youngest sibling, no one had that love for him, because there was someone before him. 

“I’m definitely not special, Hee. It’s all you” you smiled, and he laughed softly, his eyes falling onto his lap as a rosy tint decorated his cheeks. 

“It could always be just us. You could come over, and stay till morning” he turned to you, a newfound sincerity in his eyes, as he spoke to you. 

“You’d want that?” you uttered quietly. 

The faint melody playing from the radio became muffled as you sat next to him. You never felt closer to another person, and it was all so new to you. 

“Mhm, really” he confessed, and you believed. 

It was all so domestic- he wanted to escape his family line, but he behaved just like them. Heeseung could never change the blood he was born with, blood of condescending, arrogant, manipulative, money hungry assholes. 

“Will you promise to stay with me?” he asked, ending the comforting silence that embraced you. 

You laughed lightly, finding his worries sweet “I promise” you said sticking out your pinky finger. 

“You still do that?” he said with a soft chuckle. You pouted awaiting his finger that could solidify the promise. 

He laughed and intertwined his pinky with yours. 

_______ 

Spending time with Heeseung was easy. He just always knew what to say and what to do. He was like the sweetest thing bee’s like you would fly towards. 

He had eventually introduced you to Jake, Jay and Sunghoon who eagerly apologized for coming onto you and forcing alcohol down your throat at the party, and stupidly you laughed it off not wanting to give them reasons to dislike you. 

You wanted to fit in with them. Eunseok wasn't as happy, trying to keep up with your new lifestyle, but something deep inside him didn't want to stop. He knew he owed it to you after the years of neglect his parents had presented you with. After the years of living in his shadow maybe this was the only way to repay you. 

Jake had seemed awfully desperate when you first met him. He looked and acted like one of those sleazy guys who adds girls on snapchat and sends them unsolicited dick pics, but he quickly managed to prove you wrong. You rarely spent time alone with him, almost never, but whenever that moment came, Jake became a completely different person. He was nice. He was actually so painstakingly nice to the point where you would ponder his existence in that friend group. 

And Jay- you felt nothing towards the boy. The one thing Wonyoung and Niki got right was his obvious desire to become a Korean Andrew Tate. He had nothing to give except misogynist comments he’d pretend were only jokes, and if you dared to be offended then you simply had no sense of humor. 

Sunghoon, it was hard to describe him. He just didn't really talk much. He was never there, he wasn't present although sitting just across from the ongoing conversation. Maybe he always was this way, or maybe you were the problem. 

But Heeseung, he felt some kind of obsession towards you. He wanted to carve his initials deep into your skin until you bleed a deep shade of red, all out of love for him. He wanted to touch you in the places your mere, inexperienced fingers couldn't reach. He couldn't understand you, he couldn't bear the fact that you didn't fit into the pattern, and it made him sick. 

“Get a fucking grip Y/n!” Wonyoung screamed, tugging at the thick material of your blazer. 

She pulled you discreetly into a dark hallway that connected the music hall to the rest of the school. 

“Don’t touch me” you uttered, trying to peer away from the girl. 

Wonyoung didn't look mad, angry, her face was full of desperation as her glassy eyes looked at your tired face. 

“Don't you see what he’s doing to you? He’s trying to ruin you. Why are you being so fucking stubborn!” she begged for understandment but your face was blank. 

“Are you jealous? What is this about, Wonyoung? God, If you want Sunghoon’s attention then go ask him for it. I don’t know you, and you don't know me” you grit your teeth, as she looked at you terrified. 

“What are you even talking about?” she uttered, her voice cracking. 

“I’m done playing your game. Find another person to play with, I’m sure there's plenty” you replied. 

“Y/n you're not one of us. You never will be, so stop trying so hard. Getting with Heeseung won't help you fit in either. And you better not come to me when he destroys whatever reputation you have left” her words were harsh, and it seemed like your mention of Sunghoon riled her up completely. 

Wonyoung and Sunghoon have been dating for a while now. Only Wonyoung would know the exact timeline since Sunghoon had no interest in celebrating milestones with the girl. 

It wasn't like he didn't like her at all, he wouldn't give her the time of day if that was the case. He just found it thrilling and entertaining, the way she called his name, the way she’d give up everything for him if he asked. Sunghoon’s mother had set him up with the eldest daughter of Taesung Group the moment she found out he’d be a boy, so to him, Wonyoung was just a distraction from the tiring business life his mother engulfed him in. 

“Give it up, Jang Wonyoung” a male voice echoed, footsteps coming closer. 

She looked disgusted when the vision of the boy became clearer. 

“Didn't manipulate her enough today, so you had to come do it here? Fuck off, Heeseung” she sneared. 

Heeseung laughed, and grabbed your hand ostentatiously. Her gaze was glued to your intertwined hands. It made you smile slightly, the way her lip twitched at the vision, it was satisfying. 

“No one’s manipulating anyone. Sorry if that messes up your little narrative” he replied, with a smile that made her want to throw up. 

“I’ve been here long enough to know that's bullshit. You’re full of shit, Lee Heeseung” 

Your eyes flew back and forth as you tried to analyze everything about the situation. 

“Open your eyes, Y/n. Can’t you see it?” she whispered, her expression changing as she turned towards you. 

“I’m not like you, remember? So stop trying to give me advice, it’s pathetic” you voiced, and she scoffed.

“Did she say that to you” Heeseung looked down at you worriedly, and as soon as you nodded slightly, he looked back up to Wonyoung “And I’m the bad guy? At least she didn't have to convince Kim Sunoo’s parents to forcibly get her into the school” he smirked, and Wonyoung with a frustrated groan, positioned her body towards the music hall, leaving you two in the eerie hallway. 

Wonyoung was the best scoring student, but things used to be completely different. She despised studying, keeping a large distance from all sorts of books. But her parents couldn't fathom the idea that Wonyoung would not attend Saint Matthews. So with a bottle of expensive wine and some sweet words, the girl's parents got her in using their connection to Kim Sunoo’s parents who were major politicians in the country. 

She didn't like people bringing that up ever since it drunkenly slipped her while at a birthday party, so Heeseung exposing it in front of you had her embarrassed for the rest of the day. She wanted you to believe her badly, but the revelations only confirmed all your speculations about the girl, making it practically impossible for you to listen to anything she has to say to you from now on. 

… 

“God Wonyoung is such a bitch! Is she jealous? What is her issue seriously” you complained, pacing around Heeseung’s terrifyingly large room. 

It was your first time over at the boys house. It was unusual for you, all the maids showing you around, treating you like royalty, guiding you to every room. Their fake smiles, and forced acts of kindness made you sick. 

His house was colossal, massive, it extended into a vast land and the drive up to it alone was long-lasting. The walk from your apartment to a nearby store wasn’t half the length of his home, and it was appalling to you in a way. 

Heeseung’s room, for contrast, was bright, warm and welcoming. The sunlight shined down on his belongings from the ceiling high window, creating a special space where all his piano, guitars and other musical instruments lay. You recall him telling you about his passion for music, but you took it as more of an underground soundcloud rapper type of situation. 

“It’s just Sunghoon. It’s always been about Sunghoon” he answered calmly, sitting down on his couch, and with his wrought hand, patted down his lap, beckoning you to come to him. 

“Your friends are nice, and all, but you know nothing can substitute a girl best-friend. I just hoped she would be different” you sighed, and placing yourself on Heeseung’s lap, your arms automatically wrapped around his neck, head slightly leaning on his shoulder. 

His hands instinctively encased your waist, his head moving along with his eyes, as he tried to get a better look at your worn out face. 

For a moment Lee Heeseung felt bad, seeing how much comfort the two of you found in each other, knowing he can’t possibly let this go on longer. It started off with pure lust, a need to ruin the scholarship student that knows nothing about life from this side. Now  he was finding himself wanting more, knowing he can’t give it. 

Heeseung wanted to wreck your innocent image, but found himself losing it far before he even had the chance to start his plan. 

“They’re your friends now too, Y/n” he whispered, the moment feeling way too sacred “She’s lying, you know that right?” he asked after a moment of silence. He looked at you once again, checking for your expression. 

“I know, Seungie” your voice is muffled by the material of his jacket, but he can hear your words loud and clear. 

He feels like all the air in his lungs has been vacuumed up, as his last breath hitches in his throat. He feels sick. Your pretty eyes look at him with so much sincerity, trust, yet all he can think about is vivid images of your small frame under him. He can't help but wonder just how much prettier you’d look with tears in your eyes as you’d tell him it hurts. 

His fingers slightly slide over the buttons of your blouse, as he continues to stare deeply into your face, searching for signs to stop. But you look towards him indifferently, a calm expression decorating your features. 

Heeseung’s hand hovers over your uncovered thigh. He wants to feel the wetness that seeps through your panties on his fingers so badly. He wants to slowly unbutton your blouse, his eyes scanning your figure, his hands grabbing onto anything. 

“Do you want to smoke with me?” he asked, hoping that his lessons on how to properly inhale would lead him to something a little more intimate. 

“I haven't done that yet” you admit, and he chuckles. 

“I know. This could be your first” he smiles “Remember, I told you I want to help you. Well I’m doing it now” he added, quickly 

“Am I going to be fine?” you asked, peeling your head off his shoulder to look at him properly. 

Heeseung smiles leaning back on the couch. His fingers delicately push stray strands of hair behind your ear “I’m fine, so I’m sure you’ll be okay” he assures and you nod moderately. 

You deliberately slide off his lap, as he stands up to rummage through the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulls out a tin box with an adorable puppy on it, and you find it humorous in a way, considering the pretty design is hiding something so toxic inside. 

You remember the sight of high Heeseung very well. He seemed to scare you a little back then, his words slipped from his mouth with so much ease and confidence. 

“You don't have to worry, nobody really gets high on their first try” he places the box on his coffee table, carefully opening it up. 

“Well that’s no fun” you comment. 

“It isn't the case for every new smoker, but still no one really knows why,” he explained, using his extensive knowledge to educate you. 

It wasn't the ideal area of knowledge to know everything about, but it made Heeseung feel good. It made him feel safe whenever he smoked with his friends or new people. He always knew what to do and how to act if something were to go wrong. 

“This weed Jay sold off to me is hella dank, maybe you will feel something after all” he smiled, and even though you had no idea what he was saying, you reciprocated. 

Heeseung pulled out one of his filters, folding it and rolling it into a cylinder. He placed it at the end of his paper, filling it with cannabis and sprinkling just a bit of tobacco inside. He tightened it  and with his tongue moistened the shiny edge of the paper. 

“You need to feel the smoke travel down to your lungs” he explained, searching for a lighter in his pockets “Inhale for like 2 seconds, and take smaller hits so you don't cough so much” he smiled, finally pulling out a green lighter. 

You never were interested in smoking or drinking, but some part of you couldn't deny Heeseung. It was stupid, but perhaps this was your one way ticket to his heart. 

Heeseung lit the joint, staring intensely as the flame moved across the surface, waiting for the right moment to take the first hit. 

He inhaled, his teeth slightly gritting as he exhaled the smoke, the familiar scent hitting your nose. 

He held the blunt between his fingers, and moved closer towards you “I’ll guide you” 

Heeseung propped the lit cannabis next to your lips and with a nod to his head, ushered you to take it into your mouth. You assuringly looked at him, counting down the two seconds in your mind as a burning sensation coated your throat. You felt the smoke travel down to your lungs, pulling away to take a deep breath. With a small cough you exhaled, making Heeseung smile. 

He didn't know he’d enjoy seeing you like this “Good girl” 

You took a long sip of the water that has probably been on his coffee table for a long time, the liquid tasting a little weird. But you didn't care, the need to moisten your throat overpowering the unfresh taste.

“Was it good?” he asked, taking another rip. 

The smoke hit you in the face “Not the best” you answered honestly and he chuckled. 

“It gets better” he assured, and passed you the blunt again. 

… 

It felt weird. Weird in a good way. 

Your eyelids felt heavy, the laughter coming to you naturally. Obviously you didn't feel half as high as Heeseung who swore he was walking in slow motion, but you most certainly were enjoying yourself. 

To Heeseung it feels like an attack on his fragile ego, the fact that he has gotten so far but not on top of you just yet. And even with the minuscule bit of confidence he has earned right now, he needs to at least try. 

Your purity radiates off of every one of your laughs as you intently look at him, just slightly fiddling with the loose string on your skirt. If he moved just a little bit he would probably be able to see what's under the navy material. 

Heeseung’s pants start to feel uncomfortable against his skin once again as you keep on laughing so innocently at his ambiguous jokes only a virgin like you wouldn't understand. 

He wants to feel your lips against his again but this time he knows he won't stop at that. He can't. 

“I want to kiss you so bad” he admitted, and you felt an unknown wave rush through your veins, his face slowly inching closer. 

He waited patiently for a response, his mind well aware that any sudden move would cause his plan to backfire. 

But instead of letting him take the lead, you nearly closed the gap between the two of you, letting your lips just slightly graze against his, smiling as he waited impatiently. 

“Such a tease” he murmured before pressing his pretty mouth against yours, his hands traveling to the back of your neck, holding you still against him. 

He smiled into the kiss, his tongue tasting the familiar vanilla chapstick, the scent of your perfume hypnotizing, making a blur of Heeseung’s mind. The way your lips felt against him even though you were so inexperienced, it felt much more special to him. 

Heeseung’s lips never left your skin, traveling so delicately down to your jaw, placing chaste kisses everywhere he could. His ivory fingers held tightly onto your waist, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he continued to slide down to your neck. 

He wasted no time leaving small, and visible marks, his teeth slightly biting into your skin, the quiet breaths that left your mouth, riling him up even further. 

“Can I?” he asked, Heeseung’s eyes going back and forth from your face to the buttons of your dress shirt. 

With your mouth parted and an unsteady breath you nodded. 

He smirked, and continued to attack your collarbones, his fingers unbuttoning your blouse with ease. 

“You’re so hot” he breathed onto your chest, pressing you down onto the mattress fully. 

The sweet noise that slipped from your lips, made a sly smile reappear on Heeseung's face, his cock twitching in his pants, the material suffocating him. 

If he moved down even a little bit, he’d probably be able to notice the soaking wet patch on your panties. 

The way his lips felt against almost every part of your body, the soft yet sudden touch of his fingers, it all felt way too good to give up. 

Heeseung gave you a knowing look, his face just a couple centimeters from your heat, his hands digging into your thighs. 

He noticed your relectuance “You know I just want to help you” he cooed, soothing down your skin, crawling right back up to face you “Let me make you feel good, pretty girl” 

You weren't afraid of many things in your life, but most importantly, being unraveled by Heeseung and him finding nothing he wants in there. 

You nodded slowly, his smile growing with each one of your nods. You didn't know what he’d do next, the blood in your body pumping faster as you anticipated his next move. 

Heeseung moved up your skirt, and as the fabric moved up, your skin burned with anticipation. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of your covered cunt, begging for his attention. 

“So wet” he commented, his hand gently pressing your sensitive core “I barely even touched you” he added, chuckling. 

He gave you one last glance searching for confirmation, which you once again gave him, before sliding off your underwear. Heeseung didn't even bother removing your skirt, his mouth wet with desire.

 Heeseung’s fingers barely hover over your folds, the sole heat that radiates off of him making you squirm, twitching slightly. 

He laughs “So sensitive and for what? Relax, pretty thing”. 

He positions himself against you, his eyes locking with yours as he places swift kisses on your inner thigh. His lips move down in a slow pace, and you have to stop yourself from pushing his head forward. Each peck burns on your shivering skin, overwhelming you to the bone. His breath felt soft on your bare flesh, fingers digging into your thighs. 

His tongue flicked out, coming in contact with you after what felt like eternity. Your legs fight the urge to close on him, his mouth sending shockwaves of pleasure down your body. 

You grab at the nearest pillow, covering your face with it, embarrassed at how exposed you felt in front of him. His tongue delved deeper, lapping up all he could taste of you. 

The heat of his touch, the place that warmed you. The pulse, he could hold onto it alongside other rythmns. He just couldn’t get enough, he wanted to pry you open. Time faded away slowly, as he continued to devour you. 

You were on the edge, teetering between pleasure and pain, your body begging for release, as the knot in your stomach tightened.  

His mouth latched onto you, sucking and flicking with expert precision. He was enjoying himself, the sweet taste of innocence lacing his tongue. The sweet taste of crimson red innocence that he worked so hard to diminish, that he worked so hard to scrape you of. 

Heeseung was probably the closest you'll get to heaven in this lifetime. He was God's favorite, right at your thighs giving you the most beautiful form of pleasure avaliable. 

“Fuck” his chest heaves uneasily, his fingers gripping tightly onto your thighs “I could eat you out everyday” 

You wanted to beg him for more, beg him to let you release as it became even harder to hold it in. Completely and utterly lost in the new sensation, you roll your hips, gliding against his parted lips. 

“Keep doing that, fuck” he slurs, lost in a trance, his only goal being making you feel good. 

You caught a glimpse of him for just a moment- his pretty eyes so focused, his lips swollen and covered in your arousal. With every sound, every small movement, his actions became rougher, the feeling in your stomach becoming unbearable. 

“Cum for me, please” he mumbled against your skin, his desperation to make you cum fueled by the way you can't even form a proper sentence in response. 

Your fingers grip his bed sheets, his name falling from your lips multiple times before you feel the knot in your stomach quickly coming undone, a wave of intense pleasure washing over you. 

“Oh my god” you cried before fully releasing onto his face, his tounge desperately trying to lap up every single drop of his own hard work. 

Your whole body twitched in the aftermath of your climax, Heeseung still holding you down, his pretty lips back on your thighs and stomach, as he waited out your high with you. 

“So pretty,” he murmured, looking at you with lovesick eyes. 

With just a small blunt that barely got any of you high, Heeseung managed to get you just halfway where he needed you. Obviously, he’d rather have you on your knees in front of him, tears filling up your eyes as he pushed your head further down his cock, but this was enough to satisfy him, for now. 

He was peeling apart your innocence slowly, but surely, and his ego was never higher. 

______

It’s been a long time since you’ve talked to Aeri Uchinaga. 

Aeri, or how everyone liked to call her, Giselle, was one of your closest friends from the “lower class” school you used to go to. She was like a sister to you, the only ‘family’ you ever truly had in your life.

You promised yourself to never let go of your values and never let your relationship with Aeri falter, but both of those things went down the drain a long long time ago. 

Seeing the messages between the two of you lose all their momentum, become less frequent, and come down to ‘How’s Saint Matthews’ or ‘How are you holding up over there?’ frightened you. 

Would she even want to talk to you? Would she pick up if you called? Would she care? 

“I don’t know. Maybe I should just let it go?” you said, scrolling through all the messages you and Aeri shared over the past month, noticing how you could probably count them with two hands. 

Heeseung hummed, turning away from his calculus worksheets “I think if she cared enough she’d reach out. She should understand you're busy with your new life and be the first one to initiate conversations and all” 

It was partially true. Why should you be the only one to care and keep the friendship going? She should also try more, shouldn't she? 

“I’ve known her for years, Hee. I can't just let go that easily” you murmured, and he scoffed quietly. 

“But you have me now, isn't that enough?” he asked, his expression emotionless. 

Heeseung didn't even realize his words came out much more arrogantly than he intended. 

“I know, I’m sorry” you looked down “I just still want her to be in my life, that’s all” he hummed in approval, finding it annoying, the way your words implied like he wasn’t satisfying you in every sector. 

Jay, who sat opposite of you in the study hall, sighed ostentatiously. 

“Then just text her? I don't see the issue, seriously” he commented, pulling one of his airpods out of his ear, apparently tired of hearing you complain about such an ‘easy matter’. 

“It’s not that easy, Jay” Sunghoon mumbled, not taking his eyes off the work in front of him. 

Jay gave him a questioning look, deciding not to continue the conversation, way too tired for another fight with Sunghoon. 

Sunghoon had been behaving awfully weird ever since the fight at the apartment. He suddenly felt the need to comment on everything slightly negative that Jay or anyone else said towards you. That was one of the primal reasons for the group's continuous fighting. 

“Let’s get out of here” Heeseung turned to you after a moment of uncomfortable silence. 

You nodded reluctantly, still not finished with the stacks of papers you had to complete by tonight. But you could never deny Lee Heeseung. Not with the way his eyes glare at you intensely, and definitely not with the way his hand grips yours tightly, pulling you away from the table, not leaving a second for goodbyes. Not like you’d want to fakely smile at Park Jongseong with a wave; you fucking hated his guts. 

“You’re being weird today” you notice, his body facing away from you, pulling you towards an unknown destination. 

You still haven't fully addressed the lingering tension that stuck to you after what happened. But since Heeseung didn't bother mentioning it, you decided that it probably would be better to leave it at that. Sex, with all the ways it came in, was normal, and you were sooo normal about it too. 

“I’m not” 

Heeseung couldn't avoid the growing pain in his heart, recalling whatever the fuck he did back at his house, seemingly starting to realize that it probably wasn't something he needed to do, but something he wanted to do. 

For fucks sake, he never came out with the initiative to eat a girl out, and he most definitely never just left it at that, not even getting his dick wet in the process. 

The usually loud and bustling atmosphere of the student common space seemed to be gone, the bean bags and couches empty, no student in hindsight. 

“I just can't be around them anymore,” he added after a rather long moment, sitting down with a thud on one of the black couches. 

“Did you fight again?” you asked, placing yourself down next to him, your hands almost automatically finding their way to his own. 

“You could say that” he chuckled, recalling how Jake once again brought up your topic, which led to yet another heated discussion. 

“You should talk to them, this has been happening way too much recently” you ushered, and he shook his head with another small laugh. 

“They are most definitely not those kinds of people. Don't think I've had a serious conversation with them like ever”

Heeseung, Jake, Jay and Sunghoon have been friends for quite a long time now, especially Heeseung and Jay, and their lack of communication was astonishing. Every fight would be brushed off, they’d just pretend nothing happened and laugh it off. Every hard decision would have to be made individually because asking for advice was pointless. It wasn't easy with them and Heeseung knew that. 

“Either way, I’m happy you talk to me about it, maybe it can ease your mind just a little” you smiled, and he reciprocated, looking at you. 

“Yeah, it does help” he confirmed, and leaned back. 

Heeseung lived by night. As soon as the sun set it was as if his sins were disguised. So he hated the way his mind was slowly coming to the realization that the stupid plan he made was set for disaster the moment he sought out for you in the morning. 

“Do you want to come over after classes?” he asked, playing with the hem of your skirt, the seemingly innocent action making your heart flutter nervously. 

“I’m over there almost everyday” you laugh, and so does he, a snide smile on his lips. 

“You know your fate then” he says, his hand still inching closer, the public space that surrounded you having no effect on him. 

“Why are your parents never home?” you ask, and he finds it humorous in a way. Obviously owners of a multimillion company would never find time to spend back at home with their adult sons. 

The difference between you and Heeseung was that you knew your parents wouldn't be there to welcome you home everyday. You knew it was impossible. Heeseung could only suspect or assume, because his parents had given up on telling him when they’ll return from a business trip a long time ago. 

“They’re busy, I guess” he said, with a small sigh “Or at least they pretend to be, I wouldn't be shocked if the multiple business trips were just vacations” he laughed, his gaze falling onto you again. 

“At least you have your brother there” you smiled and he chuckled, he most definitely did not have a brother in reality. 

“Honestly, if he wasn't there it wouldn't make much of a difference” Heeseung sighed, and even though he’s gotten used to the relationship he shared with his brother, it still saddened him in a way. 

“It’s about the company, right?” you asked, and he nodded with a chuckle. 

“Smart girl” he cooed, ruffling your hair softly. You laughed, and shoved his hand off playfully. 

It wasn’t so hard to assume after all. What else could rich siblings be fighting over, who gets to sit in the passenger seat? Who gets to have the last slice of pizza? That's so fucking humorous. He was fighting with his brother over millions and a couple more millions, and didn’t even realize how materialistic and stupid that sounded to someone like you. 

Heeseung pulled your body closer to his, feeling an otherworldly connection course through his veins as you gave away your warmth to him. And how much tighter did you need to be pressed against each other before he finally admitted that he wasn't doing this for warmth. 

How many times did his thumb have to press against the edge of your mouth for him to realize he's gone too far?

“Did you hear that Sunghoon broke up with Wonyoung?” he asked, his body melting into yours with every passing second. 

You looked at him with wide eyes, but on another note, you would be lying if you said you didn't expect it. And it most definitely didn't shock you that Sunghoon was the one to initiate it. 

“Why?” you asked, even though it wasn't a hard deduction to make yourself.

“I think me and you both know why” he huffed, a hint of humor lacing his tone “Honestly good for him, that girl is insufferable” 

“Oh I know” you agreed, and he smiled “Go easy on him, still” 

“I'll try my best” he rolled his eyes playfully “We should definitely throw him a celebration party” Heeseung inquired and you chuckled. 

“Is that really something he’s celebrating, or just us?” you asked and he smiled. 

Sunghoon was so incredibly hard to read, and knowing if the breakup is impacting him negatively or positively was something nobody would ever know. 

“It’ll still help him get back up on his feet, if he even needs to” he replied, and you nodded smiling. 

You had no idea about the status between you and Heeseung. Things happened, and things were most definitely still happening, you both knew it, but nothing changed within the label itself. But then again, you took Heeseung as the type that didn't like labeling things. 

Of course you wanted to be his girlfriend. You wanted people to start knowing you by “Lee Heeseungs girlfriend”, not “Broke Transfer” or “Poor Scholar”. 

You relied heavily on Heeseung. He was like your life support in the walls of this school. He helped you make decisions and was there for you whenever you needed him. He felt just like flying too close to the sun, and it was addictive. You knew that very well. 

He truly was the only person you had. And well, you assumed that maybe calling Aeri isn't that good of an idea.

 Well, that’s what Heeseung agrees with anyway. 

__________ 

You were so out of it. 

You had told Eunseok that you’ll be staying the night at a new friend's house, but would he really care if he were to find out you’d actually be getting shit faced at a massive house party in a mansion you didn’t really know the owner of. 

Probably not. 

The music was so loud you could barely register the words Kim Sunoo spoke to you so enthusiastically. You had come here expecting to spend some time with Heeseung, but no matter how much you wanted to go look for him, the never ending white hallways that led to countless guest bedrooms frightened you. 

From your comfortable position on the couch, you could spot Sunghoon’s lonely figure at one of the tables. He was supposed to be the main attraction, the whole event centered around his new found freedom, but it seemed like everyone around him was having much more fun than him. 

You quickly waved off Sunoo, unsure of what he truly was going on about for the past 10 minutes, heading towards Sunghoon. 

“Are you okay?” You asked without having to shout in the boy's face, finding the corner he sat in much quieter. 

He looked startled, he didn't catch the moment where you came to him “I’m fine” Sunghoon replied swiftly, blinking a few times. 

You found it cute. 

“Why are you alone? Where is everyone” you asked him another question and for the first time you saw him smile so sweetly. 

He always had the same emotionless expression on his face, conversations with him felt like a punishment. Seeing him like this made your knees weak, a slight pain in your heart as you wondered what he was thinking about. 

“I hoped you’d tell me that” he said, his small smile never fading. 

You chuckled “I thought all this was supposed to be for you” 

He shook his head with a laugh “I never wanted any of this. They just used my situation as an excuse to get black out drunk, I guess” 

Even though it was sad, he never stopped smiling at you. His head rested on his knuckles, his eyes twinkling as his gaze was focused on you. 

“That’s rude” you inquired, and he laughed again, but this time it much more resembled a scoff. 

“Heeseung has done and is doing things much worse” he murmured, and even though the music was still very much blasting through the speakers, you heard him.  

You thought about it before questioning him again. Did you even want to know? Or are some things better left unspoken. 

“Like?” you finally said, and that’s when Sunghoon went quiet. 

With a thud he slammed his glass on the table, and stood up. He nodded his head towards one of the rooms at the end of the hallway signaling for you to follow him. He extended one of his hands towards you, and with the smallest bit of hesitation you took it, allowing him to lead you towards the space. 

Park Sunghoon looked so beautiful that night. His ivory skin glowed under the bright, colorful lights, his gaze was so piercing, and his lips just begged to be kissed. The pair of glasses hanging off his nose complemented his white fitted dress shirt, and his black pants showed off his perfectly long legs. You saw a different side of him and didn’t exactly like the way it made you feel. 

He closed the door behind you after assuring that the two of you would be alone. He didn’t know why he was doing this, why he was betraying one of his closest friends. 

But he thought about it all the time. He couldn’t get peace of mind. He couldn’t let his heart hurt for you, watching you fall for a fraudulent man that didn’t deserve someone as loyal and caring as you. 

“What is going on Sunghoon?” you asked, standing above him, as he placed himself on the leather couch with a sigh. 

“I know you like him, I know you believe everything he says and I know you won’t like what I’m about to say” he started explaining, and the suspense was killing you “But he’s not the guy you think he is. You’re not the first one, Y/n” 

“What the fuck do you mean I’m not the first one Sunghoon. First, what?” 

He was trying to stay calm, but you were already getting annoyed and he hasn’t even dropped the real bomb on you. 

Sunghoon thought about it for a second. Was using Pham Hanni a good example or should he reach deeper inside his mind to find another person Heeseung has used to fulfill his own perverted and psychotic desires. 

“I mean you’re not the first girl he has used this way” he uttered without looking at you, too scared to see your expression. 

Were you scared? Or were you mad? Hurt or in disbelief? 

You didn’t respond, letting the silence devour the two of you for a moment. 

“Please say something, Y/n” he whispered, grabbing your hand. 

His hands were cold, his fingers long and ivory. His touch was so smooth, and welcoming. He managed to pull you down next to him, yet you still couldn’t slip a word out of your mouth. He wondered if you’d ever reply or if you would just sit there, forever, next to him in silence. 

He’d like that. He’d like that more than he should. He was already betraying his friend, but his heart still wanted more. He wanted you to be more. 

“Why are you telling me about this, Sunghoon?” you finally said, and he looked at you, his gaze softening. 

“Because I like you” he said, his gaze falling to your intertwined hands “And I can’t stand looking at you getting lied to like this” he added after a short moment. 

It didn’t hit you when he said it. It felt like a moment that passed by quickly, it felt like it wasn’t anything significant. But looking at him, feeling the coldness radiate off of him, and feeling his scent made you realize he actually said it. 

“Don’t say that, Hoon” when the usage of his nickname slipped off your tongue, and he knew you didn’t mean it. 

He knew you felt it too, you just couldn’t say it, right? There was this invisible string tying you tightly to Heeseung’s grip, holding you back from giving into him. You wanted to. You’ve always wanted to, and so did he. From the moment he saw you, standing there with Wonyoung on your first day. 

Neither of you moved, caught in each other's closeness, both aware of it, both unsure. 

Sunghoon’s slender fingers grazed your jaw, softly pulling you to face him. His lips were slightly parted, and you could feel his breath, laced with alcohol and cigarettes. His gaze was heavy on yours and you could feel your heart racing in your throat- but you couldn’t pull away. 

He traced the curve of your jaw, his hand slipping down to your throat. His grip was firm, his lips grazing over the edge of yours. 

‘Tell me to stop” he whispered, smiling when he only heard a faint breath slip from your mouth. “Tell me and I will” he smiled against your cheek. 

“I want you so bad” he murmured, his voice low “You don’t even know” His nose was pressing against your cheek, his breath hot on your skin. You could feel him all over you. 

All at once, the restraint you had, faded away. His back fell to the soft padding of the couch, your legs straddling his lap, keeping him still and open for you. A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, eyes dark and hooded. 

His hands slipped down to your lower back, pulling you in closer, skin to skin. You felt dizzy, his mouth eating at your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. He grabbed your waist tightly, moving you back and forth on his growing bulge. 

His hands moved up to your jaw as you rode his clothed crotch without his assistance. 

You felt shivers down your spine, an uncontrollable force pushing you for more. You wanted him whole, completely forgetting about the boy that was somewhere in this house, laughing with his friends. 

But you didn’t want him to stop, finally closing the last breath of distance between you and Sunghoon, pressing your lips to his. 

The kiss was sloppy, he met you with even more eagerness, your hand moving down to his chest, feeling his carved muscles against your fingertips. His tongue pried your mouth for entrance, deeping the connection between you. He held you as if he had been waiting forever for this moment, holding your body firm against his own. 

You pulled away, your faces inches apart, your forehead resting against his. Your lips coated in his saliva, trying to catch your breath, he looked at you with so much passion and longing. 

The regret started to settle in, but you couldn’t move away, even when his fingers caressed your cheek, you leaned into it. 

“You should be with me,” he whispered, a hint of desperation coating his voice “We’d be so good together, I’d make you feel so good” he added, his hand slipping past the band of your small skirt. 

“Sunghoon” you breathed out, your face falling to the crook of his neck as he played with the material of your underwear. 

“You were made for me to love, let me please” he pleaded, his breath shaky. 

You could feel his soft touch caressing your skin, his erection firmly against your clothed heat, it all felt like a dream. If you looked at him, it would all become real again. 

“We shouldn't” you said, your words muffled by the silky material of his dress shirt. 

He heard you, he didn't want you to stop, he was so desperate to have you, he wanted to show you just how much better he was than Heeseung. 

“It’s not wrong when he doesn't know” he took your jaw into his fingers, forcing you to look at him. You looked so pretty and innocent, your lipstick slightly smeared around your lips. 

Sunghoon pressed his hungry lips against yours once again, and you complied with his movements. The kiss was messy, sloppy, and at that point, he lost any control that was left in his body. 

Dazed, he didn't even hear the door jerk open. Neither did you, focused on his lips that have moved down to your neck once again. 

“What the fuck is this?” a familiar male voice shouted angrily, causing you to pull out of Sunghoon’s touch, scared to look at the man standing in the doorway. You knew it was him. 

“Heeseung” Sunghoon murmured, his eyes wide as the realization started to settle in. He stood up from the couch, walking towards the boy who looked like a ticking time bomb. 

You sighed, hands in your hair, no words left to be spoken. You felt nothing, Sunghoon’s touch still lingering on your skin, and Heeseung’s words in the air. 

“Calm down, Heeseung” Sunghoon said softly, still unsure of the situation that surrounded him. 

Instead of that, he got hit with a punch to his face, harshly stumbling backwards, his back pressing against the glass table. He touched his cheek, the sensation causing him to flinch. He could feel the taste of blood in his mouth. 

“I’m sorry” he said, looking down, spitting into the glass cup that someone left on the table. 

Heeseung smiled seeing his friend's reddish saliva slide down the walls of the glass. 

You stayed quiet, hoping the same fate wasn't waiting for you. You wanted to disappear, already creating the monologue you’d spill out to Eunseok as soon as you came home. ‘Please, I need to go back to my old school’ you’d plead until he’d finally give in. 

“I’m sure you are, Hoonie” he chuckled, slapping his forearm, taking the cup from his hand “I’m sure you regret it, don’t you” he looked intently at his friend who was struggling to keep eye contact. 

Heeseung slammed the cup on the floor, the glass shattering across the wooden panels, causing both you and Sunghoon to flinch. 

Sunghoon nodded his head, trying to stand up straight, but failing miserably as Heeseung kicked his lower abdomen with his knee. 

“You think it’s okay to mess with your friends girl behind his back?” he asked, holding Sunghoon’s bleeding jaw in his fingers “Is it?” 

“No” Sunghoon spat out, looking at Heeseung with his watery eyes, the pain in his stomach unbearable. 

“Heeseung, please stop, just stop it” you pleaded, looking up at him from teary eyes, unable to watch anymore “I came onto him, it’s all my fault” you lied, trying to somehow fix what was already broken. 

“Is that true” his gaze shifted back and forth from you to Sunghoon, waiting for one of you to give him a straight answer. 

You nodded ferociously, while Sunghoon kept his gaze plastered on the floor. 

“Get out” he turned to his vunerable friend, his lips dripping in blood, his hand holding onto his stomach. 

The view didn't move him one bit. 

Sunghoon looked at him and then at you, stumbling on his way to the door, slamming it shut when he finally managed to exit. 

“You came onto him, yeah? Did you like it?” he chuckled, a devilish grin on his face as he looked at you, so fragile and afraid of him. 

“I’m sorry Hee, I wasn't thinking straight” you explained, mentally preparing for him to strike you at any given moment now. 

You should be the one asking for an apology, he should be the one saying sorry for using you. 

“Get up” he ordered, extending his hand to you. You looked at him sheepishly, his dark figure standing over you. 

You obeyed, taking his cold hand, frightened a little bit by his intimidating and unpredictable behavior. He led you to the bathroom that was placed just across from the couch you were making out with Sunghoon on, stopping in front of the sink. 

He looked at you through the mirror, his lips falling to your ear “Spit” 

“What?” you asked, your voice cracking. 

“You heard me the first time” he said sternly, his gaze never falling from your eyes. 

“W-why?” you mumbled, and his small smile dropped. 

His fingers squeezed your waist painfully, his other hand shoving your face down towards the sink “When I tell you to do something, you do it” he groaned, and with your eyes shut, you completed his order. 

“Wash your mouth” he ordered after a moment, his body pressing against your ass as he held your head in place “Wash all that’s left of him” 

You just listened to every word he said. He let go of your hair, letting you look at yourself again. Heeseung smiled, his hands wandering from your waist to the band of your skirt. 

“Did you like it when Sunghoon touched you here? Did you feel taken care of? Tell me, pretty girl” his hand slipped down lower, his fingers easily slipping past your panties, hovering over your core. 

“I asked you a question” he said more sternly, as you refused to reply to him, your brain fixated on the feeling of his fingers on you. 

“I liked it,” you replied truthfully, and he smiled. 

“You like when my friends take care of you, don’t you? You’d let Jay fuck you, you’d blow Jake if he asked, wouldn't you?” he asked, and you winced at his words, the sound mixing with the way his fingers played with you. 

“But you’d come back to me. You’d come back all swollen from their house to me. Cause you love me” he said, and you nodded, your hips riding his hand that was buried deep in your underwear. 

“Want me to fuck you now? Show you who you actually belong to?” he whispered in your ear sweetly, his fingers still teasing your entrance. 

“Yes” you managed to utter. Your heart was pounding so hard, a part of you craving Heeseung’s touch, while another one trembled with fear. 

He turned you around, you could finally face him. His eyes were dark, his anger mingling in the air. His lips were wet with desire. 

“Playing with my best friend, making me watch, you loved it, didn't you baby?” he laughed, his hand escaping your skirt, finding its way to your hips. He pressed himself against you, his hands wandering under your top. 

“You’ll get what you want, don’t worry” he smiled, his fingers caressing your lips “That pussy wouldn't give it to you anyway” he laughed, catching you in a sloppy kiss. 

“Get on your knees, baby” he said, his tone soft, a caring facade covering his internal rage. 

You nodded, softly, sliding down to your knees in front of him. The dimly lit space made him look so beautiful, his harsh words leaving with Sunghoon a while ago. 

“You can take it right?” he asked, unbuckling his belt, the material of his black dress pants brushing against your skin as he slid them down. 

You felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he teased you, palming himself through his boxers. You could see his pulsing erection, the way his face twisted as he continued stimulating himself. 

“You wanna see, huh? Dirty girl, you love every second of this” he laughed, his voice laced with innuendo. 

Finally, with one hand he slid down his underwear, freeing his thick, hard cock. It slapped against his sculpted torso, and he smiled seeing your face light up. 

“You like what you see, yeah? So fucking hard just for you” he asked with amusement, grabbing your jaw. 

You nodded, finally being able to see him whole, raw in front of you. 

He was now completely exposed before you, fully vulnerable and at your mercy.

“Good. Feel how hard I am for you. Touch me” he said, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You reached out tentatively, unsure of your actions, your cold fingers wrapping around his rigid shaft, coating its surface with his arousal as you slowly stroked him. He was hot and pulsing with his heartbeat. 

He groaned “Yeah, like that” his eyes closed with pleasure instinctively “Now put it in your pretty mouth” he ordered after a moment. 

You leaned forward, as he pulled your hair aside, twirling it in his palm. Your breath tickled his tip, his teeth gritting as he watched you open your mouth for him, and wrap your sweet lips around the head of his cock. 

He groaned, your warm mouth hugging him reluctantly. You could taste his bittersweet pre-cum on your toungue, the sensation of his hardness making shivers go down your spine. Your head began to move deeper down his length, finding it difficult to fit all of him inside you. 

“Fuck, s’good, suck me nice and slow just like that” he moaned, slightly pushing your head down his cock. He could see the tears forming in your eyes, and it made him twitch in your mouth. 

You did as he instructed, taking your time with him, finding the spots that made him react the most, teasing his sensitive underside. Hollowing your cheeks, going faster, Heeseung’s grip on you only tightening with every movement. 

You looked so helpless and lost, your mouth full of him. He fought to keep quiet, his other hand gripping the counter, his chest heaving unevenly. Your head bobbed up and down, sending jolts of pleasure through his body. 

“Fuck, keep going, I’m close” he whined, his lips parted as he guided you back and forth on his length. 

His cock twitched, your movements becoming sloppier as you awaited his climax. You could feel him deep down in your throat, the feeling accompanied by his intense breathing and hoarse moans. His hand gripped your hair tightly, he began to thrust gently, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes.  

“I’m gonna cum, fuck” his voice was strained, his heart racing in his chest “Gonna cum in your mouth, take my load baby” 

He groaned, his warm, thick cum spilling all over your tongue, Heeseung’s body shuddering as he emptied his load down your throat.  

“Swallow it,” he said, his breath shaky as he rode out his high. 

He pulled out after a moment, his cock glistening with your saliva and his juices. 

“You’re so perfect” he breathed out, still trying to steady himself “Get up, sweet girl” he instructed, and with an ache to your knees you managed to get up. 

His lips hurried to connect with yours, tasting himself on your tongue. Your lips were so soft and wet, your eyes watery. He wiped a salty tear that slipped from your eye. The look on your face took him back to the day he first met you, so pretty and untouched. 

“Let me make you feel good now” he whispered, guiding you to the bed, his pants and boxers left abandoned in the bathroom, as he got rid of his shirt while locking the door. 

He remembers just how much he fantasized about fucking you behind an unlocked door, hoping one of his sickly perverted friends walked in. But he no longer wanted to share you. 

He yearned for you, needed you just like the flesh that wanted to knit itself back together after a fresh wound. His desire was so primal, so intuitive. He was peeling his skin back, the layers slowly unfolding before your eyes. 

“Undress for me” he waited, his eyes tracing your every move, his body shivering as he watched you. 

If you were ready, he wanted to make you shiver like that too. 

You pulled down your black skirt, squeezing your thighs together as you were left only in your underwear. He came towards you, helping with your top half. He puts your hands up, the material gliding against your shaky skin. The fabric falls to the floor with a small thud, leaving you bare for him to adore. 

He stood back, admiring the beauty of the girl in front of him. He regretted every spoken word at that moment, every curse, every joke and everything that led up to this moment. 

Those words stained his mouth like a pomegranate, the lingering sensation still on his tongue as he took you in. 

Heeseung’s lips crashed down on yours, his shivering hands roaming down to your enclosed thighs, spreading you open enough for his fingers to slide through. He explored you with rough urgency, his mind blank as he focused on you and only you. 

He moved you down to sit on his lap, his hard on pressing against your ass. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck to your chest. Desperation sat heavily on his tongue. 

“You’re so pretty, all mine, all this is for me” he mumbled into your skin, his fingers digging at your hips. Your teeth grit, hands pulling his dark hair. 

Heeseung was so hungry for you. Hungry for your lips, your flesh, your bones that he wanted to intertwine with his. He was so drunk on love. 

His hand slipped down your body, his thumb circling small circles on your clothed heat. He felt the wetness seep through. 

He lifted you up, lying you down on the mattress swiftly. He situated himself in between your legs, his eyes scanning your body. You were such a pretty girl, so obedient and welcoming to him. You didn't protest, just did what he asked you to.

“Heeseung, please..” you whispered, and he could feel his heartbeat speed up “I want you inside me” he was amused by your eagerness, the way you were so direct with your words. 

“Sweet girl” he murmured, his fingers hooking the band of your pretty pink underwear “So fucking ready for me” 

He looked at you one last time, his fingers pulling at your panties, and with a nod to your head, he rolled the fabric down your legs, throwing it next to his abandoned shirt. 

“Already this wet?” he raised an eyebrow questioningly “I barely even touched you” a smirk adorned his lips.

He could come just by looking at you, your greed only fueling his own desire to fuck the shit out of you. But he'd hurt you, wouldn't he? 

Heeseung’s heart was racing just from the sight of you, his body reacting instantly to the view in front of him. His breath came out in ragged gasps, his pretty blue veins popping out from under his skin. 

He aligned himself with you, coating his length with your arousal. His throbbing cock glided in between your folds, your body trembling at the new feeling, as heavy breaths slipped from your mouth. His tip nudged against your entrance, your heart racing. You had never felt anyone this closely, and nothing made you more excited than it being Heeseung after all. 

“I won’t hurt you, yeah?” he laughed, his tone low “You think you can take it?” he teased, his tip slipping in and out, each time going just a little further. 

“Mhm” you nodded your head, looking at him with your mouth slightly parted. 

He leaned down to squeeze your cheeks “Yeah? And you won't cry?” you attempted to nod again, but his grip on you was firm. You just blinked eagerly, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

His tone was inciting, it could almost seem as if he was making fun of you. Yet no other man had ever made you feel so wanted, so good. No man has ever touched you like Heeseung did. 

He pressed you down underneath him, holding onto your lower back, his lips wandering all over your damp skin, His touch was rushed, he wanted this just as much as you. 

“Ready?” he asked, stroking himself, his gaze glued to you. You breathed out a short conformation, grabbing into his arm that flexed under your touch. 

Heeseung nodded, his eyes dark with desire and need. His hands were shaking, his body trembling with the effort of restraint. 

He grabbed onto your leg, and with a slow movement, buried himself deep inside you. You gasped, pleading for your body to adjust to the sudden invasion. Heeseung’s cock filled you completely, stretching you out in a way you’d never experienced before. He didn't move, waiting for the look of discomfort to wipe off your face. 

You had wanted this. You waited impatiently for Heeseung to take away the one sacred thing you owned- your virginity. You wanted him to be the man that gets to have you first, the love and thirst for him overpowering any rational thoughts. 

“Fucking tight” he breathed out, as his head fell back, a low, gutteral moan escaping his lips as he continued to move, his body conusmed by the sheer pleasure. 

It didn't take him a long time to bottom out, groans falling from his slightly parted lips. The pain of his thickness was almost exciting, your nails digging at his skin, eyelids becoming heavy. His cock buldged in your stomach, making him moan out loud with no sense of embarrassment. 

Your walls gripped onto his length ���Feels s'good, shit” his thrusts were slow and delicate, not wanting to break your fragile frame “See this, so fucking deep inside you” he took your hand and pressed it down on your stomach so you could feel him. 

“Does it feel nice?” he kissed your neck, his face hugging the side of yours as he picked up his pace.

You turned to look at him “It d-does” you whispered. 

He rammed into you, his strokes becoming more frequent and sloppy. His face twisted with pleasure, a stream of euphonious sounds slipped from your lips, powering his own arousal. The music slightly entered the room through the shut door, the sound of skin slapping and heavy breaths overpowering it.

“That’s it, baby” his hands gripped your hips as you moved with him in sync, his body almost automatically responding to any of your movements. Your breathing became increasingly uneven and ragged “Just like that, just like that” 

“Fuck, Heeseung” you struggled for breath, his pace becoming infernal. 

His eyes ran down your body like never before, his face looking down at you intently, almost like a wolf looking down on its prey. His fingers continued to grab onto anything he managed, his mind going blank as the sound of your cries filled his ears. 

The sight and sensation drived you further into ecstasy, his warmth so strong on your skin. You couldn't help the pleasure, a small, salty tear escaping your glossy eyes. 

He leaned down, capturing your mouth in a desperate, rough kiss, his body shaking with need. He broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His thumb wiped down the tear from your cheek, his eyes hooded as he stared down at you, analyzing the state he had put you in. 

“You’re so perfect, so perfect for me” he whispered, his body on fire, every fiber of his being consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy of being inside you, of feeling you beneath him. 

Your moans become guttural, body shuddering with overwhelming pleasure at his words, at the thought of having him like this all the time.��

“I’m so in love with you, fuck” he breathed out, his heart pounding in his chest. 

He knew he was in too deep, knew that he couldn't stop this even if he wanted to, not when he felt like this, burried so fucking deep inside you. 

“I’m close” you managed to articulate, your voice strained. 

Heeseung nods, his body feeling like he’s on the edge, too. He speeds up his movements, his cock pounding into your tired core at an almost demonic pace. His own senses are overwhelmed by you, his mind and body consumed with desire and pleasure. 

He gasps, his mouth moving down to your chest “I’m close too. Just a little more, you can do it. Just a little more” his voice a low, raspy whisper. 

You grip his hand tightly, a low moan escaping your lips as Heeseung pushes himself closer to the edge. You were hanging on by a thread, desperate for release, desperate for him. 

“I can’t hold back” he groaned, his thighs shaking, control slipping him completely “I’m going to fill you up so deep with my cum, baby. Don’t move” 

Heeseung took your heart, his mouth stained red. He kisses you with that mouth, he’s all over you again. He can no longer control himself, each movement throwing him over the edge, his own bravery breaking as you look so much sweeter and smaller under him. 

With one last thrust, his body shuddered as he shot his load of cum inside your pulsating walls. His body collapsed on top of you, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath. He continued to move inside you, his fingers holding onto your body, helping you chase your own high. 

You close your eyes, releasing your own arousal on his length. Your body shivers and arches beneath him. He groans against your neck, gripping your hip tighter, his own body trembling with pleasure and exertion. 

He buries his face into your neck, his breathing slowly starting to even out after a few moments. He can feel your breathing start to even out under him as you came down from your own climax. He held you close, letting the waves of otherworldly pleasure wash over the both of you.

“You were so good” he whispers, his voice still laced with a hint of breathlessness “I love you, so much. I love you so much it hurts” 

He couldn’t help it. Those three words have never fallen from his lips, and this time he couldn't blame it on the slip of his tongue. Every bone in his body, his flesh, his tissue, the sinews that bound him together, it flowed in his veins- the uncontrollable desire to love you. 

His words struck you to the core. It felt so real, Sunghoon’s confession long gone as you couldn't help but reciprocate his words. With the way he cared for you, it couldn't be true. Heeseung wouldn't use you, he loved you, and you loved him. 

 You look down at him, and this time he looks much less scary. His eyes aren't so dark and hooded, his hair is messy, and his lips are puffed out.

It’s been so long since you first saw him, your mind completely swapping the first impression he made on you, to something much sweeter and beautiful. You remembered him so well, he was your precious, doe-eyed baby deer. He was never wrong, he was never the bad guy. 

The world turned on him, he was innocent. He didn't have a drinking problem, he wasn't smoking too much, he just gave into his teenage curiosity. 

He continues to lay on top of you, arms wrapping around you, his face buried into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent, savoring the feeling of you beneath him. 

“I’m sorry, baby” he whispers, his voice laced with a hint of shame and regret. “I’m so sorry” he repeats and you look at him, confused. 

“What? Is everything okay?” you ask, caressing his hair, twirling small pieces in your fingers “You're scaring me” 

He sighs, his heart breaking “Sunghoon was right. I told him to do it. I told him to tell you the truth” 

taglist: @deobitifull @yunhoswrldddd @parksunghoonsgf @itgirlalisaa @alienqbrain @cyjhhyj @missycheif1404

[seosracha]

──── Room 69 , sim jaeyun

⸻ Room Sixty-Nine, where love is made

SYNOPSIS ⸻ As your parents' company fails to outperform others, you find yourself in the midst of a new financial situation and on the search for a new apartment. The roommate you stumble upon has no intentions of getting to know you better and well- you wonder how long it'll take until he fucks you.

PAIRING ⸻ roommate!jake x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut

TAGS ⸻ smoking, foul language/cursing, jake is weird and stalkerish?, making out, dom!jake, oral sex (m. receiving), degrading, unprotected sex, creampie

WC ⸻ 7k

⸻ NSFW CONTENT UNDER CUT, MINORS DNI. this is purely fiction made for entertainment purposes only. do not like= don't read.

You were broke. Triple digits that usually decorated your bank account slowly turned into double digits, as you tried to endure the new reality. It was hard to let go of your usual habits, spending money like it had absolutely no value, living a lavish life and going out every Friday. Now, you had to count every penny. Instead of purchasing a basket load of expensive fruit and drinks, you were forced to reach for the cheapest bread and milk in order to survive. 

Maybe you were exaggerating. Your parents' company hadn't gone completely bankrupt, yet. The technology department, which brought in the most profit, had endured a sudden decline due to a new company, which had stolen all their clients. Maybe they were exaggerating too, the other four departments running just fine. 

Even with that, they had decided it would be best if you gave up your expensive apartment and spending mania. You would live without spending such amounts monthly, but you definitely wouldn't survive without your city view apartment. 

Since you were little you dreamt of moving out, and living in one of those high up buildings only the richest could afford. And upon viewing the apartment for the first time it was everything you had imagined. Down to the spruce wood kitchen and bottle green tiles in the bathroom. 

But here you were, intensely searching through apartment listings, hoping to find something equally nice for a good price. 

You had hoped your best-friend, Minjeong would offer you to move in with her, knowing she had a spare room in her apartment not far away from your own, but her boyfriend's move in had crushed that desire to the ground. 

You didn't want to let the thought sink in, but you knew you’d have to get a roommate. You knew that was the only solution for your poor financial situation. Unfortunately for you, any of your friends that were potential roommate material, either lived with their parents still or weren't looking to share a place with anyone. 

You had honestly put off the search for a long time, hoping you’d soon get a call from your parents saying they had finally given up on this stupid idea of cutting your monthly budget in half, but it never happened. 

One offer caught your attention, the monthly rent wasn't too bad, allowing you to still live comfortably, the deposit was also doable, and the room was just fine. 

With a few clicks, a message chain between you and your hopefully new leasing agent had formed. You prayed the offer was still available, slowly warming up to the place, analyzing every detail about the apartment through the numerous pictures attached to the advert. 

Soon enough, the generous and kind Mister Choi Jaeyoung had responded with a short confirmation and a list of information regarding his availability and precise location of the complex. You had agreed on a short tour of the apartment, but by now you had already memorized every corner. You’d probably give him a better tour of that place at this point than he could. 

“This would be your room” he pointed with his hand, gesturing you to enter the space to look around. 

It was even better in real life, the sun shined brightly through the large window, and the closet was bigger than you expected. Obviously, it was nothing compared to your high ceiling bedroom that included a bathroom and medium sized wardrobe, but still it satisfied you enough to sign all the papers your new leasing agent threw at you. 

“That room, right there” he said looking up to the closed door “-is your roommate's, Jake’s, room” he said, and you nodded. 

“Is he here?” you asked, hoping to meet him. 

You wondered why the boy hadn't come out by now in order to introduce himself to you. I mean, you two were going to be living with each other for a long time, it would be nice to at least see what kind of man he was. 

“I don't think so. Even if he is, I wouldn't recommend bothering him” he answered, and you tilted your head, confused. 

“Why? Don’t tell me he’s like fucked in the head or something” you cursed yourself for the choice of words. 

The older man laughed “No, Jake is a nice guy, but I reckon he’s just a little more on the introverted side. He treasures his peace more than anything, let’s say it like that” 

“I think I can respect that,” you smiled. 

“There was someone here before you, but he was definitely a talkative person, and I guess he didn't like the fact that Jake wasn't,” Jaeyoung added, and you nodded. 

“That really isn't a good enough reason to move out” you laughed lightly and so did the man beside you. 

You felt a bit uneasy at his words. Was Jake really that bad? Obviously your leasing agent, who was too nice for his own good, wouldn't admit to Jake being a complete lunatic with a fucked up sleep schedule, or something even worse than that. But the place was pretty tidy, it calmed your mind a little bit. 

“With that being said, you can move in as soon as you’d like. If you need any help with moving your belongings, I’d be more than happy to help you find a nice moving company. You really can't trust people with your stuff these days” he smiled kindly and you thanked him for the tour. 

You guessed you’d have to figure out your mysterious roommate on your own. 

_____ 

It had been a week since you moved in. A whole seven days had passed, and you haven't even seen his face. 

You hoped that maybe he’d offer you a helping hand with all the moving boxes, and furniture, but Jake didn't even bother to come out of his room the day of your move in. 

You knew he was there. You had passed by his room, hearing a quiet melody coming from his room or an indecipherable chatter. You considered knocking, introducing yourself, but the words of your landlord kept ringing in your ears, keeping you away from that door. 

“Isn't he going to like, help us?” Minjeong mumbled, wiping a bead of sweat off her forehead. 

She had been helping you move everything in since 9AM, and Jake hadn't even budged. You were debating asking him instead of Minjeong, finally getting a chance to let yourself be known to him, but then again you knew he’d decline, or worse, not give you an answer at all. 

“Doesn’t he need to use the toilet? Or eat?” Minjeong asked, sitting down on your bed, the two of you struggled to build. “A real man should have made an initiative to help, and build this furniture” she added, looking around at the still boxed up closet and desk. 

Sizing down your living space also meant getting rid of your ridiculously large furniture, that had absolutely no right fitting into this small room. Then again, it was great to use some of the pieces as bribery, you knew Minjeong would never agree to do this for free. 

“I don’t care, but it is kinda creepy” you said, sitting down on the chair next to your dresser. 

You weren’t alone, but that’s what it felt like. You wondered what he looked like. You had looked him up on Instagram, Tiktok, even Facebook, but none of the profiles under his name matched the information you had about him. 

“It is! What if he’s like a 40 year old creep that lurks in these areas of town cause he knows this is where most students live” she inquired, and it made you feel uneasy. The story sounded plausible, and that’s when you felt like going into his room ‘by accident’ just to see him would be the best idea. 

“Don’t say that, you’re freaking me out” you said, and she laughed lightly. It was unlikely, to be completely realistic, but you could never truly know until you saw him. 

“If he turns out to be weird, you can always stay with me” she reassured, walking over to the mirror. 

“And listen to Heeseung getting his dick wet all night long? Yeah, no thank you” you half smiled, and she laughed. 

“Better than a 40 year old pervert” she pointed out, and you were forced to agree with the girl. 

Minjeong sighed turning to you “I swear I’m going to knock on his door myself if you don’t do it” 

You shook your head. You’d rather torture yourself with all the things that were yet to be done, than reach out to Jake. 

“You know what my landlord said, he could kill me in my sleep if I bother him” you warned, and she sighed once again, her gaze falling on the numerous boxes. 

“I have to leave soon, are you seriously going to do all this by yourself?” she asked, and you nodded with a sad expression on your face “You should ask Jay to help you” she grinned evilly. 

You chuckled “We’re not that close” 

“Oh c’mon, I’m not telling you to have sex with him on your precious newly built bed, just ask him for a little help. Have you seen his muscles, he can take all these boxes at once” she said, and you hid your face in your hands, smiling “And stop acting like you don’t want him. You can’t hide anything from me” 

Jay was hot. Really fucking hot. He was tall, well proportioned with long legs and a muscular torso. He carried himself so well, with a style that was so different, and a captivating face. He was also a well known frat boy and stoner, but you didn’t mind, it wasn’t anything unusual. One of the things Jay liked about you is that you weren’t naive- he knew he wasn’t the only one you were fucking around with, and you knew you weren’t his only girl. 

“I can handle it, don’t worry” 

Minjeong had left, leaving you alone with all the unmade furniture, unpacked boxes and thoughts regarding your roommate. 

What if he truly was a 40 year old, unemployed man who earns all his money from his parents? 

Or a discord mod, who has awful posture, and a dent in his head from the constant use of headphones? 

But then again, you saw the food in the fridge, he had already cleared up two shelves for you, but his own contained a healthy variety of food, which calmed your mind in some way. The same went for the bathroom, it was clean, all his things were organized, and the products he used seemed to be those a rather younger person would use. 

His music taste also contradicted all your suspicions and theories. You noted that he listened to a lot of RnB, and from time to time he’d play some rap or hip hop. 

That’s how your first week went by, analyzing every detail, and attempting to listen in on any conversations he’d have, just to finally get an idea of who your secretive roommate was. 

On friday you came back from your pilates class, something you refused to give up, crying in front of your parents to let you have at least one thing. They were reluctant, but gave in sooner than you thought they would. 

You were extremely spoiled, and there was no point in denying it. You were raised that way, and you found peace in using that as an excuse for your behavior. 

Some part of you was expecting to catch Jake in the bathroom or kitchen, hoping you’d finally get to speak to him but the only thing of his that you came home to was a handwritten note with numerous household rules. 

It made you laugh. It’s not like he was paying more than you, but still he thought he had any right to boss you around in your own place. And his handwriting- it was awful. No matter how serious you tried to take the note, it felt like you were trying to decipher ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. 

Some of them were reasonable, cleaning up after yourself in the kitchen, keeping the bathroom tidy, and doing your own laundry- all of it was understandable and something you already had been doing. 

No smoking was something you could agree to, you didn’t really do it anyways so it didn’t bother you much. The same went for no music after 11PM. 

You couldn’t help but laugh at the “no having friends over” point on his long list. It was insane, especially since he had a friend over just two nights ago. You had no idea why you were the only one not allowed to bring friends over, wondering if maybe you had to ‘earn it’, or if it was because you were a girl. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to comply with any of these. 

_______ 

On a Tuesday morning you woke up later than usual. The only reason for that was a previous cancellation of your anatomy class. 

No matter how spoiled and entitled you felt, you’d never allow yourself to miss class or fail an assignment or exam. Being a model student was something your father engraved in you from a young age, sending you to expensive boarding schools and making sure you get into a good university. 

You wondered if Jake had left for class already, or for work. Not like you knew what he was doing in life anyway. 

You opened your phone to an excited text message chain from Minjeong who expressed her excitement after a steamy and long night with Heeseung. A small smile surfaced on your face as you texted back her with a simple reply. 

You were afraid to leave your room. It was stupid, this was your place and you had every right in the world to go and make yourself fucking breakfast. But the impression Jake made on you was holding you back. You wondered how he managed to avoid you every single time, how you never were able to catch him leaving the bathroom or making a dish in the kitchen. That definitely took a lot of skill and starving on his side. 

It was pathetic, the more you thought about it. You were his roomate for fucks sake, not a serial killer who was just waiting to slash his head off. You two didn't have to be friends, you never expected that of him or anyone else you were going to move in with. But a short greeting would be nice. 

After a short call with Minjeong who pulled you back to reality, with a stern voice convincing you that Jake probably wasn't in the apartment anyway. 

“If you're going to behave like this, you should start looking for a new apartment” Minjeong said, and you thought about it for a second. 

Maybe she was right, but the thought of him scared you so much to the point that you would rather starve yourself than leave the room. 

The first week you purposely did things to catch him in action, get him to finally talk to you, and that slowly faded into you not even wanting to pass by him in the hallway. 

“Fuck Y/n, seriously he’s probably some incel loser who’s afraid to look a woman in the eye” you laughed at her comment, silently agreeing “I can come over and make food with you if that’s going to make you feel safer” she said, and you instantly were reminded of his set of rules and regulations. 

“Can’t. He doesn't allow friends over” you answered and she scoffed loudly. 

“So you did speak to him?” she said, still in disbelief. 

“No, not at all. This stupid prick left a note on my desk when I was out, 30 fucking rules and most of them seemingly only apply to me. He had a friend over just 4 nights ago!” you answered angrily, and she sighed. 

“You should move out of there, seriously. If not that, then purposely piss him off until he moves out” she inquired, and it birthed a whole bundle of ideas in your head. 

Maybe that was your solution. Purposely pissing him off and going against his crazy rules, forcing him to move out before you were forced to do it. 

“That’s a good idea, I like it” you answered, and she cooed excitedly. 

“Invite Jay and fuck so loud he’ll be slamming doors” she said, and you were quick to hush her, embarrassed by her ideas. 

“I gotta go make a mess in the kitchen then” you remembered one of the early points on the list, bidding her a quick farwell and ending the call. 

She had already convinced you that Jake wasn't in the apartment, so you didn't even bother getting dressed, just slightly adjusting your underwear and strapless top. 

It really felt like you were living alone most of the time so none of the habits you picked up on while living alone had the chance to vanish. 

You slowly open the door with a quiet creek to the floor boards and leave the room, your face in your phone as you checked all the notifications that bundled up overnight. 

You weren't expecting your first meeting with Jake to look like this, but there he was in all his glory. 

He must've thought the same thing- you shouldn't be here at this hour- a single pair of boxers keeping him away from standing fully nude in front of you. 

You didn't even know the man's last name but here you were standing practically naked in front of each other. Maybe you’d be more frightened if he wasn't so fucking hot. 

His skin was slightly tanned, shoulders broad with toned forearms. He had a tiny, slutty waist- if you knew he wanted it too you’d probably fuck him right there in that kitchen. His face was even better, big doe eyes and a shaped jawline. His black hair slightly covered his face, but you could still make out all of his features. 

All the fears you had completely vanished, a new disgusting arrangement of thoughts taking over your mind as you tried to speak to the man in front of you. 

“I’m s-sorry” you quickly said, covering your eyes. 

It had only been a couple seconds since your eyes met him in this awkward situation, but it felt like you’ve been staring at him much longer. 

He didn't even bother to reply, closing the fridge with a protein drink in hand, he passed by you like you weren't even there. You watched him enter his room and close the door with a thud. 

Was this seriously all of it? You had hoped he was just a little shy, waiting for an opportunity to greet you properly whenever you had the chance to pass by each other, but he obviously wasn't interested in getting to know you. 

But how could you possibly not want to get to know him when he was so breathtakingly hot. How could you possibly stay sane knowing you're living with a David reincarnate. 

You no longer planned on playing the ‘how long until he finally speaks to me’ game, preferring to see how long it’ll take for him to fuck you. 

______________

After that day you hadn't seen Jake at all. 

You heard him occasionally laugh with his friend who seemingly had the right to come over every day, or rage at a game but that was it. He once again opted to ignore you. 

You wondered if he was thinking about you too. You couldn't possibly get him out of your head, spending a little more time in the common rooms, hoping he would finally walk out of his room. 

Was he playing hard to get or was he just a fucking sick antisocial weirdo with no interest in real life women at all. 

You had spoken to Minjeong, the girl convincing you to do something that’ll rile him up. She had finally persuaded you to invite someone over, specifically Jay, in hopes that it will piss off Jake enough to get him to speak. 

“I know him from university, he’s an engineering major” Jay said, taking a hit from the freshly rolled blunt. 

The smell of weed spread across the area, and you secretly hoped Jake could feel it seeping in through the cracks of his door. 

“What’s he like?” you asked, inhaling the smoke as he held out the blunt for you in his fingers. 

He smiled “Fucking weird. Like he doesn't talk or anything, he just hangs out around the same people all the time” 

Jay pulled you closer, blowing the smoke into your mouth, and you obeyed, inhaling the rest. He gave you a sly smile, and finally put out what was left of the blunt. 

You didn't know what was between you and Jay, but until you get Jake to notice your true intentions towards him or even speak to you, he was a good option 

“That checks out” you chuckled, shaking your head “Look at this” you opened your drawer, pulling out the paper your roommate had left you. 

You handed it to him, as he read through all the rules. He laughed and with wide eyes kept looking through it. 

“Fuck, I need Sunghoon to see this” he laughed, taking a picture of it “Already broke two rules” he smirked and handed the list back to you. 

“Not stopping there, trust me” you smiled and put it back in your desk drawer. 

He smiled evilly, and pulled you back over to sit on his lap. You complied with a sly smile, and pressed your face against his chest, Jay softly caressing your back. 

“You should move far away from this freak, seriously” he says, and you can’t help but hum in agreement. 

If you chose to disagree, Jay would start asking too many unnecessary questions you truly had no answer to. You couldn't even tell yourself why after seeing him only once, you wanted the man to dick you down so bad. 

“And live on the street? No thank you” you replied, your voice muffled by the material of Jay’s sweater. 

He chuckled “You can move in with me” 

“The streets sound much better than living with 4 sweaty frat boys in one room” you replied, and he huffed. 

“We’re not frat boys, c’mon” you scoffed at his words. 

“Stoners, frat boys, fuckboys, whatever, same thing” you count and he just rolls his eyes playfully. 

Jay’s delicate touch and sweet voice almost stopped you from hearing Jake’s angry footsteps in the hallway. 

The chance had finally come, and you were forced to ignore it. 

The sound of his footsteps kept ringing in your ears as Jay told you something about having to leave soon to do a drop. You barely listened to him, wondering what Jake was thinking about, probably already noticing you were not alone. 

The vibrating sound of Jay’s phone knocked you out of your trance, forcing you to rise from his embrace, passing him the device. 

“Yeah yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. I’m around the area” he replied, and lazily standing up with a stumble to his feet, he stretched and turned to you “Sorry, pretty thing. Gotta go” he gave you a half smile, and you nodded your head, trying to refocus on what’s going on behind your closed door. 

You walked him downstairs to the door, and with a chaste kiss to your forehead, he sprinted towards the subway station. You smiled, your eyes chasing his figure until he finally disappeared around the corner. 

Opening the door to your apartment once again you hoped that Jake would still be rummaging around the hallways. 

And you were right, he fell right into your trap. He was waiting there for you. 

“What the fuck was that?” he asked, and his voice was deep. It was a little raspy, probably from the way he’s screaming his lungs out playing games all night. 

His face was dark, and figure was lean. He looked a little creepy, his back blocking all the light, his body casting a shadow onto your figure. 

You wanted to smile, but decided to keep it cool “No hello, or goodmorning?” you asked, tilting your head with a sly smile. 

He looked like he was about to explode, and you liked it more than you thought you would. 

“Oh you wanna be like that? I fucking told you, loud and clear, that there were no guests allowed around here. Didn’t get through your head the first time, did it?” he groaned. 

“I’ve been here for 2 fucking weeks, and you haven’t even bothered to introduce yourself to me. You can seriously fuck off, and shove those rules up your ass while your at it” you replied, turning your back to him, heading towards your room. 

He grabbed your wrist, pushing you to the wall “You listen to me, yeah? So don’t fucking try to invite anyone over again” he said, harshly letting go off you, and without letting you finish, walked back to his room with a slam to his door. 

You were left there stunned in the hallway. Although you knew Jake wasn’t normal, you never expected him to be this fucked up. 

And you also didn’t expect it to turn you on so much. 

_______________ 

Once again, you haven’t seen Jake around. 

He must have been extra cautious to ignore you especially after your previous incident. 

You hadn’t even heard him play his usual loud and obnoxious music anymore or him raging at his games. No one has come over since then either. You couldn’t understand why Jay coming over bothered him so much to the point where he changed up his whole routine, choosing to take on a rather silent stance. 

But he wasn’t here today. 

For the first time in 3 weeks, you were there for his absence in the apartment, and you knew exactly what you wanted to do. 

You wanted to finally see what his own space looked like. 

Maybe in the slightest way it would help you figure out the type of person he is, maybe you’d find something that’d help you understand why he is the way he is. 

You double checked, making sure that psycho wasn’t hiding somewhere, hoping he’d catch you in the act. But when you checked every possible spot, you quietly and slowly opened the door to his room, steadily taking in the space that was unveiled in front of you. 

Cream walls, gray curtains, a cheap wooden bed frame, no posters, pictures or plants, you truly expected something more, but there was no personality to the boys room. 

In some way that answered a handful of your questions about him; he just had nothing to himself. He was just a simple boy with a fucked up character and greasy keyboard. 

His desk was messy, a mixture of textbooks, used up tissues and a half-empty lotion, crumpled up pieces of paper and cables. Yet through the mess you managed to notice a note, your name written in capitals on the top of it. 

And well, a scrunched up, stained pair of your light pink, lacy panties. They were abandoned in the middle of all the tissues he disgustingly didn’t get rid of yet. 

Just when you thought he couldn’t get weirder, he somehow did. 

“There is no fucking way” you whispered to yourself, your mouth parted and eyes wide. 

You looked back and forth between the paper and your underwear, eventually grabbing at the note, narrowing your eyes as you began to read the contents. 

You skimmed through the bullet points; your full schedule written down on the paper with almost exact numbers as to when you leave and when you come back. These were the things you didn’t even know yourself. 

“You think about me a lot don’t you, Jakey” you murmured with an evil grin, not forgetting to snap a picture of it and send it to Minjeong. 

You decide to leave the now useless fabric where you found it, also deciding to leave it out of the conversation with your best friend. She had already freaked out over the schedule and if she found out your crazy roommate is also jerking off using your dirty laundry, she wouldn't waste a second moving all your things into her apartment personally. 

She replied swiftly, an arrangement of emojis decorating your home screen and a “WHAT THE FUCK, CALL ME ASAP?”. You smiled and put all his things back in place, leaving the horrid space Jake created for himself. 

“Hello? Y/n?” Minjeongs voice ringed in your ears as you called the girl. 

You decided to spend some time in the living room, waiting for Jake’s return. Your eyes were constantly plastered on the door in the end of the hallway, ears listening in for a turn of the key. 

“Yeah, I’m here” you laughed lightly, and that’s when Minjeong got her confirmation to start her full on blowout. 

“Move out of there as soon as possible, girl. That man is dangerous, I swear to god” she half screamed, and you just chuckled “You’re laughing? This doesn’t scare you, like at all?” she asked, and you thought about a reasonable reply, cause ‘He’s hot’ was definitely not going to make the cut for your best friend. 

“I can’t afford anything else Minjeong, you know that. He doesn’t bother me that much, it’s okay” you said in an attempt to calm the girl down. 

“I told you, you can come stay with me” she said calmly, and you let a stray breath out. 

“Min you know I love you, but I already told you I do not want to hear you banging Heeseung every other night” you smiled even though she couldn’t see you. 

“Personally, I’d rather listen to pornhub recreations than live under the same roof with a potential stalker” she said, and you laughed. At least she knew about her problem. 

“He’s not a stalker Min, he’s just weird. That’s all” you replied and she sighed. 

“You can’t fix him, Y/n” she said, and you scoffed playfully. 

“You can wait and see” you told her and she just hummed. 

“Before that happens, you'll be six feet under” she said, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her overprotectiveness

The topic slowly faded when the seriousness turned into playful banter, the two of you discussing random topics and gossiping about every possible person that ever graced your campus. 

You didn’t leave the living room, not once, because according to Jake's precious and impressive schedule, you should be out now. Normally that would be true if not for the cancellation of your pilates class. Self-cancellation. 

As the keys turning and metal hitting the wooden door sound through the apartment, you hang up without further explanation, quietly running off to your room. 

If you stayed in the living room, upon noticing you, he'd practically bolt to his room, locking the door, once again, avoiding you. You were smarter than that. 

As soon as you heard him settle down, the sound of your old fridge being opened, and his quiet footsteps pacing around the kitchen, you pulled out your phone, the picture of his note staring back at you. You smile mischievously, phone in hand as you open the door, heading straight towards the kitchen, 

He looks slightly taken-aback and you know damn well why. He wasn't expecting you. You shouldn't be here for another 30 minutes- the perfect amount of time for him to shower and make dinner. He had precisely calculated all of this just so he could avoid useless encounters with you. 

“What is this?” your voice is taunting as he realizes what's displayed on your screen. 

All the blood drained from his face as he realized you entered his room and looked through all his things, possibly even read all the perverted thoughts he had about you that were scattered across his desk in the form of crumpled pieces of paper. He remembers exactly what he took from your dirty laundry basket and how much he enjoyed having the fabric wrapped around his thick shaft. 

“You went through my things ?” he asks, voice laced with anger as the reality of the situation comes down on him.   

You bark out a laugh, amused by his attempts to shift the blame on you “Oh and my panties, you can keep those. Hope they milk your short dick good” you smirk, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, the look of confidence on your face. 

Jake's expression darkens, a cruel grin twisting his lips as he moves closer to you, his face inches away from yours “You think you're so fucking clever, don't you? Going through my things, catching me in a little indiscretion and using it against me. Impressive” his voice is low as he laughs in your face. 

One of his hands moves to grip your chin, the look on his face menacing as he forces you to maintain eye contact “You're nothing but an entitled brat. I'm not some fucking pushover and you should know that by now. Weren't those rules enough? You just had to go and invade my privacy to feed your little ego. You knew what you’d find, didn't you?” he stares down at you intensely, his grip on your chin tightening, his thumb slowly brushing over your lower lip, his smile growing as he notices your silence. 

“Here's what will happen, okay? You’ll apologize for breaking my rules, send all your guests packing as soon as they show up on this doorstep, and we’ll never have this conversation again. You'll be a good little girl and listen to me from now on” he murmurs, his voice low as he trails his fingers along your jawline. 

“You look so hot when you get mad like this, Jakey” he looks caught off guard for a moment, before the low and seductive laugh parts his lips. 

“You think so?” he leans in closer, his breath hot on your skin, his voice down to a whisper as he continues “Then maybe we should put that dumb fucking mouth of yours to use and I'll show you just how hot I can get” 

A smirk spreads across Jake's face as his hands move down to grope your behind, giving it a firm squeeze, chuckling at your reaction. 

He moves to settle down at the edge of the couch, stripping off his shirt, presenting you with the view you’ve missed way more than you thought you did. His chiseled torso glistens under the lights, his belt buckle clinking as he undoes his pants, pushing them down. The fabric falls down to the floor almost instantly. 

He watches you intently as you smile up at him, his fingers toying with the waistband of his boxers, his movements slow and tantalizing. 

You’re enjoying this and he knows it too, watching from the way you slide down to your knees in front of him. 

“I knew you'd like this. Is this what you wanted?” he teases, his gaze never leaving yours as he watches your desperate pleas. 

When you nod, he laughs softly, finally pushing down his boxers, freeing his rigid erection “Show me how much you wanted it” 

He grips the base of his shaft, giving it a few slow strokes as he watches you, waiting for you to take him into your mouth. 

You grin at his heat and hardness, your fingers wrapping around his length. He pulses in your grasp, begging to fill your throat. You lean in, your gaze locked on his, running your tongue from base to tip, savoring the bitter taste of his precum. 

You slowly take him into your mouth, your lips stretching as you push his length further down your throat. You bob your head, the determination to bring him pleasure coursing through your veins. 

As your wet mouth accommodates his thick cock, a strangled groan escapes his lips “Yeah, fuck, don’t stop” 

His fingers thread through your hair, pushing you further down his shaft. He guides you as the sensation of your tongue around his sensitive tip brings him over the edge, his knees weak as he shakes with pleasure. 

“Keep going, suck me off good” he moans, his mouth parted as he continues to guide your head down his throbbing cock. 

As you pick up speed, your movements harder and faster, he can feel his body begging for release, the orgasm building in his stomach. 

He can barely keep his eyes open as he speaks, his voice strained “Fuck, I’m close" his heartbeat quickens "Gonna cum so hard down your throat you’ll never want to go against me again” 

His hips buck, as he tries to savor the last moments before his awaited release. With a hoarse cry, he loses himself in the feeling, spilling himself deep into your throat. 

His grip on your hair loosens, his eyes rolling back with pleasure “Swallow” he commands, his body shaking as he rides out his climax. 

With a contented hum, you comply, lapping up the last drops of his seed, the salty flavour coating your mouth. The rest of his release, mixed with your spit, coats your glistening lips, as you remove yourself off him. 

Jake watches you lick your lips before pulling you into a bruising kiss, tasting himself on your tongue. His tongue moves along your mouth, his hands sliding up your shirt, his fingers stroking the smooth skin of your stomach. 

“Strip” he says, pulling away, watching you with an evil grin. 

As he watches you slowly and teasingly remove your thin shirt and shorts, his hand begins to slowly stroke his cock back to hardness, smearing the ramints of his own release and your saliva along his thick shaft. 

He sits down on plush comforters of the couch, tapping his lap for you. His body presses against you as you straddle his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. 

“So pretty” he whispers, locking his eyes on you as he watches you subtly grind your hips on top of him. 

He pulls your head back, exposing you bare throat, his lips leaving a trail of bites and bruises on his way down to your collarbone. 

A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel his wet lips on you “I need more” 

He smiles at your words “I’ll fuck you so good the only rule you’ll remember is how nice it is when you submit to me” 

Jake swiftly moves you down onto the cushions, his body looming over you as his hungry eyes wander over your body. His lips meet yours again, his hardness grinding against your wet core. 

He uses your wet slick as a lubricant, his cock sliding against your folds as he hisses at the sensation. 

“I fucked myself to the thought of you every night” his voice is rough with barley restrained lust as he notches himself at your entrance “Wanted to bury myself in this little cunt for so long” 

With a powerful thrust of his hips, Jake sheathes himself fully inside you, groaning as your tight heat elopes him. You breath out in ecstasy as he fills you completely, your inner walls clenching tightly around his thick length. 

Your back arches off the couch, as you hold onto his forearm, your nails digging into his skin “Shit, Jake. So fucking good” 

You start rolling your hips, meeting his every stroke, the sound of skin slapping against skin and loud gasps fill the once quiet apartment. 

Encouraged by your wanton pleas, his thrusts become erratic, hitting deep and hard. He pounds into you with a wild force, pressing you down in place, taking the pleasure from your willing body. 

“That’s right, take it all” he holds onto your hips, slamming you onto his length. 

You can’t even bother to reply to his comments, writhing beneath him as he uses your body for his own gratification. Each of his brutal movements sends you further over the edge, his pace almost demonic as your nails dig into his back, leaving red scratches along the surface. 

Jake feeling your trembling thighs and the way you clench around him, smiles evilly, slamming into you with precision, grinding his pelvis against your clit. 

“Cum on my cock” he speaks, his voice dark “Milk me for all I’m worth” 

With a piercing whine, you come undone under his dripping body, the orgasm crashing down on you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as with heavy pants, you ride out your intense climax. 

The feeling of your release and the sound of your name falling breathlessly from your lips, proves too much for him to handle “Gonna cum so fucking deep inside you” 

With a low, guttural moan Jake presses himself deep inside you one last time, and finds his own release, pumping his hot, thick cum directly into you. 

He finally collapses on top of you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he comes down from his own, intense orgasm. Jake lies down next to you, your damp body sticking to his, as he threads his fingers through your hair. 

“Don’t go through my shit again, Y/n” he whispers, biting down on your earlobe. 

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.  

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[seosracha]

Dude what apps do I use for fake messages 🙏

used social dummy... not on the app store anymore💔

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.  

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[seosracha]

not to be dramatic or anything but 'souvenir' actually changed my life so thank you 🖤

its NEVAA dramatic 🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️ THANK U LOVE!! so glad u enjoyed it 🥳

[seosracha]

HE'S KILLING MEEEEEE..

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.  

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself. ��

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR - park jongseong

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads best friend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, smut, angst?, fluff

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (jay is 38, reader is 20), daddy issues, multiple mentions of parental death, rich lawyer!jay :3, descriptions of France/Paris/New York that might be inaccurate, making out/kissing, f!ngering, slapping, dacryphilia, unprotected s3x, 4nal, plot with p0rn, lmk if I missed something!

FEATURING ⸻ enha hyung line + jungwon, aespa (-winter..), (briefly) riize's anton

WC ⸻ 17.5k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, paris by sabrina carpenter, je me souviens de tout by tayc, sad girl by lana del ray, dear god by tate mcrae gibson girl by ethel cain

MDNI. This is a work meant for entertainment purposes only. References to places are imaginary and not meant to deprecate their image.

There’s one thing about people who weren't born rich- they’ll tell you about it. 

Inherently, not bad. The right situation sometimes requires those exact words that make every head turn. For Park Jongseong, it made a great sob story. Especially the stories of Hewes Street and his mothers tragic passing. 

He was raised by his single, overbearing father who worked as a French teacher in a low income high-school. Their apartment in Brooklyn, New York was falling apart day by day. Sometimes, he’d even have to skip brushing his teeth because today might be the day their old, rusty pipes explode right in his face. 

His mother passed away shortly after he was born, leaving his dad crushed. In a way, he was the only tangible evidence of her existence. Pictures, videos, letters- none of that mattered when at the end of the day, his son was the only piece of his wife that was left on this cruel earth. 

At 15, Jay got a job at a restaurant near his school. That’s where he met your father. 

At first he was envious of him. Not because of the stupid reasons most people his age back then fought over- but because your father wasn't working at that restaurant to survive the next month, but because he was forced to by his parents for misbehaving. 

For him, it was just another month, another day. For Jay, it was all he worried about. Winter, summer, spring, autumn-all the same for someone who doesn't need to think about how they’ll heat up the apartment enough to get by and not freeze to death. 

Eventually, they got close. Really close. 

Your father would help him sneak out leftover food. He thought it was gross at first, and it wasn't hard to make that deduction, judging by his expressions and remarks. Jay knew it, and honestly all he could do was sigh. Soon enough, the boy understood that it wasn't really a choice for his friend, but an attempt to get himself and his dad through the day. 

3 years later, Jay got a scholarship from one of the best universities in France. This was his chance, his lemon that he’d squeeze every last drop out of. And so he did, even managing to stay in touch with your dad through it all. 

Life in a foreign country was fucking hard. Being treated like an idiot and broke scholar, was even fucking harder. Thank God the older people who employed him later on had a soft heart for those who didn't grow up in the land of prosperity.

He was already three months into his new life when you were born. Jay never got to meet his bestfriends little girl. Well, until today. 20 years later. 

Jay remembers it so vividly- the phone call from his dearest friend, who could barely get those two words past his lips- “She’s dead”. The love of his life, the mother of his two precious children was gone. And even though Jay’s mom was no longer here, he didn't really know what they felt, because he wasn't old enough to remember his own. He didn't know what to say, how to comfort him. 

That was 10 years ago. Today, it’s your father who's getting married again. Now, he’s finally back to see how everything has changed, even when it didn't seem that long ago when he left. 

…

It’s never too late to find love again, but Jesus Christ, why did the woman have to be only 7 years older than you? You really hated your father for moving on because to you, your mother was still here. You could feel her, and maybe if you reached out far enough, at the perfect moment, maybe then you could touch her too. 

Lee Ann was your fathers optometrist. He was her first long term patient after she finished school. They dated for 2 years before he finally asked her to marry him. She loves your father, she really does. And even if you wanted to deny it, you simply cannot. 

“He forgot all about mom” your younger brother, Jungwon, sighs, twirling the wine glass that you sneakily passed him in his hand. 

A weak smile forces itself upon your lips as you grab onto his hand “It’s not like that, Wonnie” he nodded his head, scoffing under his breath “As long as we’re here, he’ll never forget her. And she’d want him to be happy, you know that” you added, and he just hummed in approval, the sound forced. 

“I can’t wait to move out” he says, his eyes lighting up just a bit at the mention. 

It’s been a year since you moved out of your father’s house. The decision was a hard one to make- leaving your brother in a home that only reminded him of the mother he barely got to know terrified you. But when your best friends, Ningning and Sunghoon, offered to move in with them, you knew it was for the best. 

“I told you you can stay with us” he shook his head at the words, a small laugh escaping his parted lips. 

“Ningning hates me” you chuckled, remembering how the two would always bicker whenever your brother visited. 

“She doesn't hate you. And even if, Sunghoon loves you, so who cares?” you remind him, and he smiles. 

Park Sunghoon, your best friend, ex-boyfriend, your little brothers ‘older brother’- he’s been there. Jungwon absolutely adored him, and so did you.

You two met in high-school after he moved to New York in his sophomore year. He was absolutely terrified, growing up in a small village in Wisconsin where the kids weren't even comparable to the ones he encountered on his first day in New York. It didn't take him long to blend in though. Now, he is studying Fine Arts at Juilliard. 

“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you two” a voice beams from behind you, and it doesn't take you long to figure out it’s your drunken father. You can hear Jungwon sigh, before turning around. 

He stands there, a half empty champagne glass in hand. Next to him, a tall, sharp featured man stands, smiling brightly as he looks at both you and Jungwon. You don't recognize him. 

“This is Jongseong, do you remember him? He flew in all the way from Paris to be here today for me! Isn’t that incredible?” your father beamed excitedly. It almost made you think it’s his friend who he was more happy about on this day, than his now wife. 

The man looked at you, sticking out his hand to greet you “It’s great to finally meet you two. I’ve heard only good things” he waits for you to return the gesture, and after a moment of silence and intense staring, you finally do. 

Jay thinks you really do look like your mother. He’s only seen the occasional picture that his friend would post on Facebook, but he never saw the resemblance. Well, until now. 

The softness in your features, the color of your lips, the mole he swears your mother had too- he feels his chest heavy uneasily as his eyes just can't seem to leave you. 

“Nice to meet you, Sir” you nod, releasing his hand. No wedding band, you note. 

He smiles with a chuckle before shaking his head “Just call me Jay” he corrects and reluctantly, you mumble an  ‘Alright’. 

Jungwon’s gaze switches back and forth from Jay to his father “Can’t believe you're actually his friend” the jab seems to make your father laugh, and it confuses the both of you. 

“That’s harsh” he chuckles awkwardly, forcing a smile on his face as he doesn't seem to understand the sudden hostility “Your dad has always been good to me” 

Jungwon just nods, unamused. He doesn't seem to believe that the man that has never been a good father to him could possibly be a good friend to anyone. 

“Paris, huh? I heard the women are the prettiest over there, right?” Jungwon asks, and Jay’s expression seems to change at the switch of topic. 

He looks at you for a brief moment before answering the question “I guess, yes, you can say that. Haven't found one though” he smiles, and it doesn't look like he’s saddened by the fact. 

Jay takes his job very seriously. Working hard is the reason he has what he does now, not taking shortcuts. It took reading between the lines and actually making a fucking name for himself to get here. 

He remembers his first years at university- he’d get out of class and not for a moment would he close his book. In the crowded metro, he’d revise and revise, and even when he got off, the disgusting smell of piss marinating in the underground, he still kept studying. 

“I heard you want to study abroad in Paris, hm?” his head turns as he asks you. His eyes move up your figure as he awaits your answer. 

It takes you a moment to reply “Ah, yeah- yes. I applied for a scholarship last month” he nods. 

Jay’s hand lands on your shoulder, slowly moving down your back “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you” he smiles. You watch his hand on your skin, only looking away as he retorts it back to his side “And if you have any questions, don't be scared to ask” 

You honestly didn't care what life was like in Paris. You already knew it wasn't nice. Especially as a woman- something he’d probably never tell you anyway. Nonetheless, you mouth a ‘Thank you’ and bow appreciatively. 

“I still don't get this whole ‘Paris Phenomenon’, she can't barely speaks French!  You should talk her out of it, Jong” your father comments. 

You’ve heard his disapproval many times- from the moment you found the school, to last month when you applied. Maybe he was embarrassing you, but you can't expect the old fashioned man to understand the simple concept of studying abroad. 

“I don't think that’s a problem, eh? I’m assuming it’s an international program” he looks down at you with a comforting smile. Your father seems taken-aback by the defense on his friends’ side. 

You nod in agreement, and your father seems to give up on his attempts to talk you out of it yet again. 

Aunt Lu walks up to your father, eloping him in a hug, spilling applause at how beautiful the newlywed couple is and so on. Noticing Jungwon, she cups his cheeks, and with a sweet tone praises him for God knows what. 

Jay once again turns to you, and leaning down whispers “Don’t mind him, yeah? I’m rooting for you” a small smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. 

Your head turns to look at him, the proximity of his face thrilling. With widened eyes and parted lips you nod, even attempting a smile. He chuckles at the reaction, moving away from you and joining your father and aunt. 

The older woman beckons them to join her at another table, smiling brightly “Leoni wants to play you a piece, come!” (Leoni, your cousin who cut off your braid when you were barely 5 years old. Fucking bitch) 

Before parting, Jay bids you two a quick farewell, your father leaving with him. 

“If you want him, at least don’t make it so obvious” Jungwon snorted, his eyes following the two men, as he pressed his lips together to prevent himself from laughing out loud. 

“That’s gross. You’re gross, Won” you shake your head.  

… 

Early in the morning, Sunghoon kicks your door open, toothbrush in his mouth as he throws mail on your bed “It’s from IFA. Open it” he stands in your doorway, waiting for your next action. 

You look down at the envelope studying everything- your name, the address. “Maybe I should do it with my dad?”

He removes the brush from his mouth “Are you seriously gonna make me wait? Jeez, woman” he tries to be serious, but a chuckle escapes him as he walks out of the room, and into the living room. 

You didn't know if Jay had already gone back or not. Your father had scheduled his honeymoon two weeks after the actual ceremony for reasons you weren't quite sure of (maybe because of his friend, you note). 

You still think about the look on his face when he spoke to you, a hint of something inexplicably kind in his voice. His figure, the faint outline of his chiseled body on the light blue dress shirt. The slicked back blond hair, the pathway of veins on his arms- it’s all you can think about, really. 

And it doesn’t necessarily make you feel good about yourself either. What the fuck are you doing thinking about a middle aged man in ways that are far too perverse for comfort, truly? But you can't help it- it’s almost as if it comes naturally. Especially at night, when you feel the loneliest. 

You place the letter next to your bag, dialing your fathers number. 

…

He holds the letter in his hand as you continue to usher him to open it “Just do it Dad, I told you already that I want you to do it!” he sighs again, and starts ripping the envelope open. 

Jay turned out to be staying for the two weeks that led up to the honeymoon. Your room, turned guest bedroom was where he was staying. 

Today he looked even better, if that’s even possible. Comfortable attire is definitely his look, you note. 

Taking out the letter, your father reads through the content, his eyes soon landing on the bold, ‘ACCEPTED’. His expression doesn't seem to change, a whirlwind of thoughts passing through his head. He knows that you won't change your mind. He knows you’ll leave as soon as he tells you. 

“So? What does it say?” Jay perks, setting down his coffee mug, and scooting closer to your father. He smiles as he looks down at the paper. It brings him back to when he was in a similar position, asking your father to open the acceptance letter for him too. 

“Did I get in?” you ask, your hands going up and down your thighs as you await the answer. 

“What do you think it says?” Jay tilts his head, a smirk on his lips as he teases you. You bite down on your bottom lip anxiously and shrug. 

“Accepted” your father finally speaks, as he looks up from the letter. He doesn't seem as excited as you are at the words. You try to hold back, but the wide smile involuntarily appears on your face. 

“It’s great news, really” Jay beams, grabbing the letter from your father to pass it to you as the man still seems to be in disbelief. 

You look at it yourself and it feels unreal. A scholarship that’ll cover all three years of tuition- it almost feels like you don't deserve it. 

“What; what now? Are you actually going to go?” your father speaks up, his tone surprisingly stern. 

Your smile drops as you fold the paper, placing it back onto the coffee table “Of course” you manage to utter, your voice unsure. 

Jay’s face twists in confusion as he looks back and forth between you and his friend. You can’t seem to understand your father’s reaction either. 

“Yeah? And where will you stay? How will you pay for the living cost in a country like France? Have you thought about these things, or did you just stupidly apply out of curiosity?” he rambles, and his friends' presence doesn't seem to hold him back. 

You scoff “I’ll get a job. Ever heard of that one?” he doesn't seem to enjoy your attitude, his jaw clenching in annoyance. 

“You think a job at a café or restaurant will pay for that? That would be nice, wouldn't it?” he sneers. 

Jay sits up straight, reaching out to grab your fathers shoulder, an attempt to calm him down “She could stay with me” he suggests. 

There’s a puzzled look on your face as you take in his words. Does he actually mean it? Or is he just trying to save himself from a fight between you and your father? 

“Don’t be silly, Jong” he chuckles, shaking his head in bewilderment. 

He looks at you for a sign of discomfort. He can’t seem to find any “I’m serious. It’s the most I can do to repay you for what you did for me before I left” 

Jay remembers that day very well. He was at the restaurant when his father called him. “They cut off our power and water. I’m so sorry, Jay” he tried to calm his dad down as the man kept repeating endless sorry’s. He was two weeks away from his paycheck- Jay couldn't do anything. He was helpless. 

Your father witnessed the situation unfold, he saw how panicked Jay was, as he hurried to grab his wallet. With a bit of reluctance, he walked up to him after he ended the call “Stay at my place, Jong. Seriously” 

“I don’t know” your father mutters, rubbing his temples. 

“Would you like that?” Jay turns to you, letting the man next to him consider the proposition. 

It’s confusing to you how with no second thought he invited you inside his home. It’s so effortless and it doesn't seem forced- it’s almost like he wants you there. Almost like he wants to take care of you, give you a good environment to study in, and have you close. 

“You could stay until you find a stable job. Or longer. I don’t mind” he adds after your silence. 

You take a deep breath and nod “If it’s okay with you, of course”

“I’m the one offering, sweetheart” he chuckles. 

Your father leans back on the couch, exhaling slowly “I know you’ll go anyway. And It’s not like I want you to end up homeless on the streets of Paris” 

____ 

Shortly after, Jay returned to France. 

You spent most of your time with Ningning, Sunghoon and your brother during the rest of summer. You didn't know how long it’d take for you to see them again and that killed you. 

You and Jay exchanged a few messages during this period- he’d confirm if the packages with your belongings had arrived or send pictures of the room he’d begun renovating for you. 

You told him he didn't have to, feeling a little flustered by his kindness. Yet every time, he’d tell you it’s nothing. “I’ve been meaning to renovate it anyway.” he messaged you after you said it really didn't matter to you how the room looked. 

You wondered where his effortless helpfulness came from. Of course, you were his best friend's daughter at the end of the day, and that’s a good enough reason. That still didn't keep you from feeling like a stranger to him. Because well, you were. 

He knew about your existence while you weren't really even aware of his. You could never tell your father's friends apart, so that made Jay just another piece of his endless stories. And at times like these, you regret not listening. Maybe then you’d at least have a vision, idea of the man you’ll be living with for at least the next 6 months. Apart from being fucking hot, there was nothing that accompanied. 

“Still don’t understand why you chose Paris. Isn’t Parsons equally good?” Sunghoon asks, his hands folding your clothes as he helps you pack the last of your belongings. 

You chuckle “You’re only saying that because Niki goes there. And that girl you’ve been hooking up with” he looks at you with mock offense. 

New York had good fashion schools. Great, even. But you were too young to not go and explore the world. Staying in one place, never trying out new things sounded like a nightmare. 

“That’s a lie. It’s a good school, seriously” he defends and you nod, because there was no denying it “It doesn't matter though. Paris will be fucking dope. You better send us postcards with the Eiffel Tower on it” 

Ningning, Sunghoon and Jungwon see you off at the airport. All the way there, your little brother and Ningning argue, the younger one beating her to the passenger seat. It’s endearing, even if normally you wouldn't enjoy listening to it. Your father, too busy with yet another vacation, doesn't get to be there for your departure. Maybe you’d feel disappointed- the difference is that it isn't the first time, and it surely isn't the last time. 

“Visit me, mmh?” you mutter into Jungwon’s sweater as he hugs you tightly. You can feel him nod “Okay” 

___

Jay, who was always a clean person, seems to be even cleaner over the past week. He ferociously scrubs at the bathroom tiles, cleaning in between every crevice as if you’d even notice his hard work. He washed his windows on Monday, but on Friday, the day before your arrival, he feels a sudden urge to do it again. And the amount of money he’d spent on accessories and other decorations for his apartment that was already beautiful before that- he’d rather not say. 

Jay had texted you early in the morning “Work today. Left the keys in the lobby under your name” 

A hint of disappointment flashes across your face as you read his message. You don’t really know what causes the reaction- perhaps the letdown, as you were undeniably excited to see him again (who knows why, really?). 

You take the RER B train, the ride excruciatingly long as you wonder just how large the city must be. Navigating New York suddenly seemed so easy, as you try to figure out how exactly you should get to the apartment itself. 

At the reception, with the help of your broken French and a translator, you managed to convey to the old man that worked there that you were indeed the one Park Jongseong left his keys for. 

Jay lived on Rue Vaneau, close to Les Invalides, in a sunny corner apartment with east and south exposure. It had an impressive ceiling height, all the old elements on it and on the walls have been beautifully preserved. There was an entrance gallery, a dining kitchen, 3 bedrooms, one bathroom and a laundry room right next to it. 

Shelves with stacked up books were absolutely everywhere, and you use the opportunity of his absence to sort through them, see what the man does in his free time. You're shocked at how well he takes care of his plants- they all seemed so healthy. 

And the room he prepared for you was beyond perfect. He left it perfectly clean prior to your arrival, making sure you would be comfortable putting away all your things. The boxes you sent out through the entirety of summer sat in the corner of the room, along with fresh, new sheets he’d bought for you. 

In a way, this is exactly how you imagined him to live. 

It still felt extremely odd to be in his space all alone. This wasn't yours, yet here you were, unlocking the door, stepping inside and walking around. You knew he wanted this, or at least didn't mind it- that didn't stop you from feeling like an intruder though. You wonder how long it’ll take you to actually shake this feeling off and feel comfortable in your new home. 

For the rest of that day you unpack, and unpack, and after a short break- unpack some more. Jungwon calls you right after he wakes up, begging for a tour which you decide not to give him. “Won, I feel weird even being here. I’d feel even fucking weirder showing you around. Shit, like some stalker” he sighs at the response, and instead, asks for the view out your window and you gladly provide him with it. 

At around 7PM you received a message from Jay “I’ll be there in 20. Got some dinner”. Honestly you didn't know what made you happier- the prospect of his awaited return or some real, warm food. 

Jay went through his morning routine thinking about you. He sat at his desk at the firm and thought about you. And on the ride back to his place, he thinks only about you. He doesn't quite figure out why, but he’s aware of the fact that he probably shouldn't. 

What  shall he greet you with? Definitely not the Chinese in his backseat. But he’s far too exhausted to actually make something. And maybe he should feel guilty, but he hopes you won't mind. 

Stepping into his apartment, he finds it awfully quiet. Yet he still can feel someone's presence. A velvety smell lingers in the air, and he recognizes it. His hand pauses at your door- he thinks about the things he should say, or maybe not say. Eventually he knocks, and it doesn't take long for your voice to welcome him in. 

“Hey” he cringes as the phrase comes out awfully unnatural. 

You look up from your position on the floor (previously, consumed with sorting through your memorabilia), a small, little bit awkward, smile finding its way on your face “Hey” 

He leans against the doorway, scanning the room to see all the shelves and spaces suddenly filled with your belongings “How was your flight?” He thinks it's the right thing to ask.

You swallow, before speaking again “It was alright. Slept through half of it, honestly” you nod, and he chuckles reciprocating the action. 

“Hungry?” he asks, and you spot the plastic bag hanging on his finger. Normally, you’d feel bad about someone buying you something, but under these circumstances, you feel relieved. 

You nod, and stand up, following him to the kitchen. 

“I should've treated you to a nicer meal today. I’m sorry” he apologizes, and sets the takeout box in front of you. Handing you the utensils, he sits across from you. 

“It’s more than enough, don’t worry” you smile. 

“I hope you find everything okay in the room. Didn't really know what you like” he starts, and you shake your head. 

He asked his female coworkers for advice but instantly regretted it when they started interrogating him. It’s a hard thing to explain- the idea of his best friend's daughter that's nearly 20 years younger, moving in with him. 

“It’s perfect, Jay. You didn't have to, seriously” you say, and he feels his heart skip a beat at the sound of his name falling from your lips “Thank you. I don’t know how I would've managed without your help” you add. 

He can still sense the awkwardness in your movements and tone as you refer to him. He wonders when that’ll change. Soon, he hopes. Very soon, actually. 

“I’m sure you could do it. You’re a smart girl. And I’m also sure you’ll find your way around here soon enough” the reassurement warms your heart, as you thank him again. 

You are smart, and you would manage to survive on your own in Paris. But he’s secretly satisfied with the fact that you didn't.

Maybe this minimizes the chances of you finding random hookups or getting black-out drunk on the weekends. He tells himself he’s only doing this to protect you, and shield you from the dangerous men that walk the streets of this city. But he knows it’s not entirely true. 

Jay is certainly infatuated by you, and it feels really fucking wrong. But he can’t stop it, no. 

_____

Paris has never been louder. The air is filled with chatter, distant traffic and the inevitable end of summer. 

Jay didn't really plan on spending his day off walking around the city with you, but somehow, he’s here. 

To him, it was just Paris. He used to be like you and he remembers it well. The euphoria kept diminishing year by year leading him right to where he is now- wasting away his life in courtrooms and bars. But at least people knew his name. 

The city doesn't amuse him anymore- he’s been here, seen it all. But the flicker in your eyes and happiness that radiates off of every one of your words makes him feel it again. He’s back to the day where everything felt new to him. 

Early in the morning, two days after your arrival you told him you’d go out, explore the streets. You had to. Even Sunghoon had begun making fun of you “You’ve been in fucking Paris for the past two days and haven't even seen the Eiffel Tower yet. And you know, the longer you delay it, the longer it’ll take for our postcards to arrive” you smiled, and with a small sigh, told him you’d do it the next day. 

 “Wait here” Jay  said when you entered the living room.

He walked right into his bedroom, closing the door as you stood there with confusion painting your face. After a moment he came back, fully dressed, looking really fucking good “I’ll go with you” 

“I can manage” you said politely, feeling the tiniest bit of guilt. The man in front of you worked tirelessly everyday, and instead of regenerating on his day off, he’s forced to pointlessly walk around with you. 

“You’re a kid,” he chuckles, leaning against the wall. 

“You say that too much” you retort, walking over to where he's at, slipping on your shoes. 

“Because it’s true” he watches you with his arms crossed, waiting. 

You huff, shaking your head “I think it’s because you don’t want to see me as anything else” 

You didn't mean anything by it. Just a simple nudge at his superiority complex perhaps. But still, he seems to stiffen up at the words. 

Jay pretends he doesn't hear them, he acts as if they had never been said because it’s better that way, he’s sure. 

That day you actually spent time with him. Dinner was always the same- forced conversations that always ended with his infamous “I’m tired”. Shortly after, he’d be off to bed and you were alone, again. 

Of course you didn't expect him to become anyone to you. Being allowed to live in his apartment was enough. Anything else went beyond any kind of favor, and you were aware of it. 

Yet you still attempted to be in his space. Too in his space sometimes. 

You stop at a bookstore. It’s independent and most likely on 

the verge of bankruptcy. The dusty wooden bookshelves, and faint smell of old paper seems to bother you, as he looks like he’s in heaven. 

“Haven't you already read like all of these” you complain watching him flip through the books. 

He chuckles, handing you the red, silky hardback “That’s the sad thing about life. I’ll never get to read them all” 

“Wish that’s what my problems sounded like” you mutter, and he pushes off the shelf, stepping closer and reaching past you to grab another dusty book. 

“You're really judgmental. As expected for a fashion design student” he comments, and you nudge him with your elbow. He should move away, but he lets you. 

Jay keeps flipping through the pages, ignoring the way you huff in annoyance at his remark. 

“What does that even mean?” you ask, and his lips twitch, as a smile threatens to spread across his face. 

“I think you already know” you leave it there, pressing your back against the shelves, ostentatiously and playfully crossing your arms with an irritated exhale. 

Walking along the Seine at nightfall is awfully romantic, yet he still does it. For you. 

You stop at the edge, leaning against the low, stone wall “The water's really dirty” you say, and he just hums in agreement. You turn around, now facing him “Did you always want to live here?” your tone doesn't really make it sound like you're actually curious. 

He shrugs, moving closer. His body falls onto the wall, right next to you “No” it’s short and you can tell he isn't lying. 

It confuses you. This has always been your dream, and seeing the city only verified those desires “But you do now?” 

You almost need the confirmation, awfully scared to experience regret. At the end of the day, you two aren't much different. 

“It’s a city like any other. The longer you're here, you realize it’s nothing special” you scoff, looking up at him. 

His gaze is on the pavement, but as soon as he feels your eyes on him, he looks up. 

“You’re like really depressing and unromantic” 

He tilts his head, humming “I think you’ve watched too many French romance films” you nudge him with your body, and he chuckles softly at the interaction. He stays still,  watching you. 

“I just think it’s a waste to be here and not fall in love at least once” you reply, and he finds it humorous in a way. 

Jay has been here for most of his life, and never married. Somewhere in his twenties, right after finishing university, he’d use his degree to pick up girls. He cringes thinking about it now- how the only two things he had going on for himself was fucking everything in plain sight and a degree that he hadn’t even put to use yet. 

But as soon as he found a job, it stopped. He prided himself in his professionalism and control. That’s probably why he’s single and not even close to being not-single. 

“Sounds like a nightmare” his tone is mocking, and in response, you roll your eyes. 

“Why?” His gaze is steady and firm. A little knowing. 

He sighs “I think you just don’t really leave the same after” 

You hold his gaze like you want to say something more. Like you know something he won't admit. 

It’s late when you return home. The morning buzz falls, replaced by the intense Parisian nightlife. He didn't expect to be out so long- maybe 3, 4 hours. Still, he let himself be dragged around for the whole day. 

He should go to bed, he really should. Instead, he’s with you, on his balcony, drinking fucking wine. But he was the one who brought it out, he was the one to initiate this. He’s just trying to get to know you better, he tells himself.  

“You’re not even 21” yet he still hands you the glass. 

You laugh softly, looking around “We’re in Europe” he puts his hands up in defeat, his back pressed against the wall. 

You’re sitting on the railing, legs swinging slightly as the city spreads out before your eyes. He watches you, and it almost looks like you're memorizing it, afraid that soon that’s all it’s gonna be- a memory, a souvenir for your mind. 

“You’ll fall” his voice sounds a little lazy, but cautious. 

“Would you catch me?” you smile, tilting your head in a curious manner. 

Do you always have to be so teasing? Or are you just being yourself and he’s slowly spiraling into insanity. That’s a stretch, certainly, but Jay still hates the way he lets you. 

The wind lifts your hair, the lights make your skin glow and your body is positioned in such a welcoming way. You look so young, so fearless and most importantly- fucking tempting. Jay looks away before he lets himself think any further. 

He’s a grown man and you haven't even started university. You're his best friend's daughter with whom he is temporarily living. That’s all it is and that’s all it’ll ever be.  

“You sound confident” he retorts, and you smile, sipping the drink in your hand. He does the same. 

It’s only been two days. Where did it come from? 

“Because I know you like having me around” you grin, and he shakes his head with a soft chuckle. 

Oh you have no fucking idea. It kills him, and at the same time, makes him feel alive. That’s pure tragedy. 

“You’re putting words in my mouth” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips. He’s trying not to look at you, he really is. 

You smile, and jump off the railing setting the drink down on a glass table. 

“And maybe that’s because you never say what you actually want to” you answer, passing by him and entering the apartment again. It’s so quiet, Jay almost thinks he imagined it, misheard it. 

Your fingers brush past his, and he feels it. He feels it even after you’re gone. 

He knows exactly what you meant and it should scare him. But it doesn't. Because the truth was, Jay wanted you to say it so he could be the one to prove you wrong. 

_____

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed. 

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience. 

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf. 

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature. 

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island. 

“Jay” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him. 

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has. 

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous. 

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even. 

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable. 

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling. 

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head. 

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose. 

Were you? 

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone. 

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close. 

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time. 

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out. 

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much” 

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea. 

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart. 

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble. 

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments. 

He remembers the day when his father called him and sounded oddly unfamiliar. Jay had just turned 30- which was such a strange age to be, since you are far from being old but not young enough to be considered youthful. 

“I’m not one to get sick” his dad had said it like it was a mistake, a glitch that never should've occurred in the first place. And it was partially true- he can't recall his father ever coming down with a flu or even sore throat. Later, he was diagnosed with bacterial pneumonia. 

His father despised any form of sickness and anything that was associated with it. So he didn't want to get treated. And for him, that was fatal- the infection triggered a chain reaction throughout his body causing sepsis to arise. 

And just like that, New York became a stranger to him, a place where he thought only bad things were destined to happen. 

He thinks that he wasn't meant to be born there. Just like the pneumonia had been a mistake, his birth there must've been too. 

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you. 

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips. 

“Older” you correct, too deliberately. 

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't. 

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It also seems to terrify him, because the fact doesn't stop him, not at all. 

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true. 

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too. 

“You should get some sleep,” he mutters, standing up and collecting all the dirty dishes, dropping them in the sink. 

“I’m tired,” he added lazily, like always. 

It was his little way of ending a conversation when it became too much. His escape goat when he knew that he was close to letting go. And recently, he’s been dangerously close. 

You know there's nothing more you can say, so instead, you just nod, and without another word, walk off to your room. 

Your father has called a couple times since you arrived and every time, Jay sounds distant, keeping the conversations short, leaving out any details. He just can’t be friendly, pretend like everythings the same when it’s so painfully not. Jay can't be nice and enthusiastic when all he wants is to fuck his bestfriends daughter. 

Will it ever end? Maybe if he gave in, ruined them both. Maybe then. 

____

Cooking or baking was his escape whenever the stress became a bit too intense, and well, currently, he was really fucking stressed. 

Jay knew it’d be this way, and thinking otherwise would only prove him to be much dumber than he thought he was. But still, he hoped. He hoped that maybe the language barrier would be hard enough to conquer. He hoped that you weren’t the greatest at making new friends (that’s just beyond dumb. It even shocked him-that he has the capacity to think so stupidly). 

You started attending the academy a week ago. And of course you were the type of person that people naturally gravitated towards. Of course all the students spoke perfect English, it’s an international programme for fucks sake. 

So today, instead of staying home with him, you’re out. Out, where he can’t see you or find you. Waiting for you on nights like this turns out to be torturous- he can’t call or text because he simply shouldn't care. But he does. 

It’s past midnight and he should've gone to sleep hours ago. Instead, his fingers wrap around a knife as he makes a dish he doesn't even want. 

Growing up, cooking or baking was a luxury. He couldn't even bother to think about things like expensive clothes or tropical vacations.

At the restaurant is where he learned most of his skills. He was a server, but during slower days, he’d always peek around the kitchen. 

One of the chefs, a fat Italian man named Dante, had actually taken a liking to the young waiter. So every chance he got, he’d call Jay over and let him in on the secrets of his world. 

He hears you before he sees you- a stupid, youthful giggle and your hands latching onto the walls. Your heels clink against his wooden floor, falling as you kick them off your feet. 

He looks at you, takes you in. Hair tousled, a hole in your lacy tights, lipstick smudged (either by yourself or a stranger) and the strap of your dress hanging off your shoulder. It was like a transitional phase- physically, in his apartment, mentally, still part of the night. 

“You’re late,” he muttered, chopping up a cucumber. At your laugh, he presses harder, the knife digging into the cutting board. 

“I have a curfew? Didn't know” you grin, stepping forward until your elbows are propped up on the kitchen counter. 

His jaw tightens “Where were you?” The question sounds firm, and his expression is slowly starting to give away the jealousy boiling inside him. 

Your scent and presence is too intense. You’re almost too in his kitchen, too in his apartment and too in his head. 

“Out” its chaste, and you don’t even bother to look him in the eyes, only focused on his movements, making him feel like a fucking stranger in his own home. 

“With who?” God, he sounds like he cares. And maybe it’s a good thing, but not with you, certainly not with you. 

He sees you reaching out for the bottle of water, and passes it to you. Why won’t you just say it? Fuck, just tell him. 

“Evan? Maybe that's his name” you laugh, screwing the cap back on. Was this funny to you? You were doing it on purpose, he’s certain now. Trying to elicit a reaction from him- trying to see just how far he’d go if you pushed the right buttons. 

With a low chuckle, he mutters “Evan”. Jay repeats the name like it’s a fucking joke. You furrow your eyebrows at his reaction. 

“He’s a good guy” you insist and he muses, obviously not believing any word you say. 

“I’m sure he is,” Jay nods slowly. He turns his body to face you. You’re still there, with that shit eating grin he wishes he could just fuck off of you. 

“You think I can’t handle myself? Or maybe I’m too naive, hm?” you roll your eyes. He’s acting awfully familiar, and finally you realize those two years between him and your father don't really make a difference. They’re the exact same- overbearing and just way too interested for their own good. 

Yet still, it doesn't bother you. The opposite even- you want to say more, you don’t want to stop. You want him to care for you so badly, wash away the night from your body. All you truly need is his attention and the look on his face is telling you that you’ve got him right where you want him. 

After years of your own father not caring or showcasing the slightest hint of emotion towards you, it’s become somewhat of a desire to have someone that would. 

“That’s ridiculous” he smiles, peeling himself off the counter “I just think those French boys you like so much, they talk a big game, you know?” he’s inching closer, prying the bottle from your grip “But they don’t necessarily know what to do with a woman once they have her” 

Swallowing, you straighten your posture “And you do?” 

Jay doesn't say anything at first, watching the way you become impatient with every passing second of his silence. He takes a long, slow sip of water before putting it down on the counter in front of you. 

Reaching out, he turns off the stove “Eat it before it goes cold” he smirks slightly, walking off. 

____ 

“Maybe tomorrow? I’m really tired today” Jungwon mutters, his voice muffled by the blue sheets wrapped around his body. With a small sigh, and understanding smile you nod, ushering him to get some sleep. 

It was a usual occurrence by now- his tired voice would pick up the phone and barely five minutes into the call, he’d either be fast asleep or too drowsy to continue. And you tried to understand, you really did. It was Jungwon’s senior year in high-school, and you knew better than anyone how fucking frustrating it is to notoriously have the word ‘college’ thrown around you. That just didn’t stop you from feeling lonely. 

In recent weeks, Jay has picked up way too many cases than he probably should have. He needed an escape. He physically needed the restraint of his own job since staying at his apartment has become way too dangerous. And with you already aware of the things he doesn’t want to admit, it only gets harder. 

Sunghoon got a role in a play called “The Seventh Door”,  as a vampire detective named Nathan. That’s been his whole life for the past two weeks- and rightfully so. No doubt you were proud of him, even saddened by the fact that you wouldn’t get to see him perform it. But the offer just made Sunghoon another person you couldn’t call, at least for now. 

Ningning, casted in a movie adaptation of  “Letters I Never Sent” (or Letters I Should’ve Sent? You never read the book, truthfully) was currently in Australia for the shoot. Her busy schedule and time difference had made it nearly impossible to talk. 

To say you were proud of them was an understatement. Witnessing your best friends become the version of themselves they worked so hard to be was something so beautiful, no words could possibly describe it. And you felt beyond ungrateful whenever the thought of their success was the idea of something you lacked- especially when luck was already on your side the moment you got accepted into the academy. It was simply grueling to be aware of the fact that there’s still so much to be done before you yourself can boast about these sorts of accomplishments. 

And on nights like these, where there is no one to call or confide in, you find yourself standing bare-foot, and disheveled in front of his door. 

The bright blue clock on his night stand reads 2:03 AM. It taunts him as he rolls and turns in his bed, unable to sleep. The presence of another, becomes too heavy on nights where he wants to see you, but knows he can’t. He’s never known this feeling, never known the weakness he’s bound to experience now. Jay hates it- wanting the same person that’s the cause of his personal inferno. 

He tries to ignore the first knock for the exact same reason he’s turning over on his side. Jay doesn’t hope you’ll walk away, he needs you to walk away. But by the time your fist hits his door again, he knows you won’t. 

Switching on the lamp, he sits up on his bed. A small, yet still audible “Come in” passes by his lips. It doesn’t sound hesitant- more like he’s finally succumbed to the inevitable. 

Your fingers linger on the doorknob for a second longer before ultimately turning it, revealing his scruffy state illuminated by the yellow light of his night lamp. The black tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination, his muscles flexing as he runs his hand over his face. 

You look too small, too human. His chest heaves uneasily, his throat itches to say something, welcome you into his embrace, touch you. 

“Can I?” you ask, and for the first time in a while your tone isn’t mocking, or snarky. He doesn’t know what to say. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea” he means it. It isn’t. None of this was ever a good idea. 

Jay knows this is you asking for something- something he should never give you. But he wants to. God, he really wants to. 

“I don’t care” you murmur, glossy eyes staring over his figure. He shivers at the words. 

Watching you run a hand down your arm, he realizes he might have no choice 

Each step you take towards him erases the image of your father from his mind. Every movement that brings you closer makes him forget about the inescapable numbers that separate you.  It becomes a confirmation of his burning fucking need to have you close, feel the warmth of your skin on his. 

The mattress sinks slightly as you sit next to him. Your knee brushes against his- seemingly tiny, innocent. But it’s not. Not when he can feel it even after it's gone. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice unsure and rough. 

You look down, fingers toying with the bracelets around your wrist “Couldn’t sleep” it almost sounds like a question, like you’re just as clueless as he is. 

“And you thought my bed would fix that?” he tilts his head, eyes watching you intently. It doesn’t come off the way he planned it to, but you don’t seem to notice, or even care. 

“May as well” it’s quiet, and before he can say anything else, tell you to leave, or do something he might regret, you speak again “I miss home” . It rolls off your tongue so fast, almost automatic. He can tell just how much it costs you to admit it.

He nods, pursing his lips together. 

When his best friend's parents' company went bankrupt, he didn’t know what it felt like. When your mother died, he had no idea how to help your father. More so, when your dad was getting married again, and asked Jay for advice, he realized just how much he doesn’t know. But this time, he knows exactly how you feel. 

Jay was so alone when he first came here. He only managed to squeeze in one phone call with his father every week, not to even mention his friends, whom he had close to no contact with. The loneliness drowned him, and for the last 20 years it still has. He’s surrounded with people every day, yet still feels like the only one.

And in those moments he understands how little he knows about the world, and has to offer. How insignificant his story actually is, and how stupid he was to think it can actually serve him any purpose. His parents died- devastating- but at the end of the day, everyone’s parents eventually will. He’s not special. He’s not the odd one out either. 

Maybe that’s why he’s become so crazy about his best friend's daughter- because it all changed when you came into his life. And it gets harder to deny that whenever he remembers he forgot about it all. 

“Jungwon?” he questions, and you exhale at the mention. 

A small confirmation slips past your lips “Wonnie, my friends, everything” at first he doesn’t know what exactly he could do to help you. He knows what you feel, but can’t think of any remedy- probably because he never had one himself. 

So he just stays quiet. He knows how exhausting it is to be in a city that doesn’t feel like yours- and he just hopes you know that. He hopes that his presence is enough to provide at least a temporary cure to what you’re feeling. 

You move closer, and he feels his body stiffen up at the sudden contact. His eyes dart down to your figure, watching the way your head slowly, and tentatively falls to his shoulder. Jay exhales sharply, one hand on the small of your back, steadying, supporting. It’s instinct. He doesn’t think about it. 

Until he does. Until he feels you inch closer with every passing second. Until he feels your breath on his chest, the texture of your skin under his fingertips, the faint smell of your bodywash in the air around him. And if you think it’s nothing, he can’t bear the fact that it’s everything to him.  

He watches you covered in his sheets, your head flat on his pillow, staring up at his ceiling. You climbed in with no hesitation- like it’s completely normal. Like you actually should’ve done it or even belonged in his space from the start. 

For a while it’s quiet- only faint breaths console the brooding silence. The bedroom is dark, the city's brightness being the only source of light. He can still feel you pressed against his chest. And when your leg brushes against his under the white sheets, his hands shake. 

You move, your body now facing him. Looking up at him, you mutter out “Jay?” 

He doesn’t look, only a faint hum in answer “Mhm?” 

“Do you ever feel it too?” his jaw tightens, and his lips twitch. His eyes are closed, but he hears it- your figure slightly sitting up, moving closer to him. 

He knows it's not fucking loneliness you're asking him about. You're talking about this. 

It's not about right or wrong anymore. It’s about how fucking noticeable his want has become- how much it has begun to kill him. You’ve become severely undeniable and he’s just so helpless against the feeling. 

The air shifts as you await his response- anything, even a barely audible word or missable movement. 

“You should go to sleep” he swallows. 

His entire body goes stiff as your small hand softly lands atop of his stomach. It’s light, and he wants so badly to say pure- but he possibly can’t, not when it moves up, the pace menacingly slow. Jay places his hand on yours, the look on his face stern “We can’t do this” it’s hushed, and almost sounds like he doesn’t want to say it, but rather has to. 

“But you’re not stopping me” it rings in his ears as your touch moves further up- passing his chest, his collarbone, up to his throat. He lets you. 

This is exactly where he should pull away, exactly where he should remind himself about those many things that  actually separate you- but he can’t. Jay forgot all about it the moment he heard you knocking on his door. 

“You wanted this, huh?” he breathes out, heart pounding in his chest as the proximity proves too much for him to bear. The way you lean in closer only serves as a confirmation to his question. 

Jay meets you halfway, lips brushing, barely anything at all- but he feels it everywhere. It’s so soft, so fleeting and it’s more than he ever expected to have. It’s too much. 

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you onto his lap, fingers digging into your waist, his other hand holding onto the side of your face. 

The small gasp that escapes your lips is swallowed by his mouth. Deep, and devouring. 

________ 

On the couch, he checks his inbox eyes completely glued to the screen of his phone. He feels like the time it’s taking you to get ready is enough for him to get unready and ready again. At least 5 times. 

Before the night you came to him, the night he let go, he gifted you a spare ticket to a play, “Somewhere Between You & Me” which his friend had kindly invited him to. 

Jake was one of the lawyers at his workplace. He was 7 years younger than him, being Jay’s associate when he first arrived at the firm. Just a year ago, he became a junior partner. Between balancing work life, and his wife (whom he got married to just 5 months ago) he still managed to find time for his true passion- theater. Jay made fun of him for it of course, yet still,  he’d watch his friend on stage every time. 

“Somewhere Between You & Me” was one of his bigger projects. Tonight was the premiere and Jake’s hard work would finally pay off as it recently turns out, tickets sold out almost immediately. It’s also his last- because as it turns out, his wife is pregnant. 

Tonight is  also another day where Jay is unsure of how long he can hold up his disinterested facade. Definitely not long, definitely not when you look way too fucking good in that small black dress. 

“Change” he voices sternly after looking at you for a moment. Give him another second, and that knowing grin would be right back on your face- you knew him too well by now. 

It was just a kiss- all he can ever allow himself to do, all he will ever have. And he hopes soon the feeling of your lips on his finally vanishes from his mind. 

“Why?” looking down at yourself, you tilt your head in confusion. 

He scoffs “Because I said so” it’s quick, and he still doesn't dare to look your way. 

You are way too beautiful today- and it taunts him. The slit rides too high, the sides cling onto your curves with such effortless elegance and it just mocks him- it’s like you know this is the day he’s gonna lose. Lose it all. 

“That’s not a good enough reason” you huff, finding his attitude humorous. Humorous, meaning obvious. He may not be looking, trying so pathetically hard to hide it, but you already see what he hasn't admitted. You know damn too well what he thinks about at night, what he’s doing while the shower runs a little too long. 

“Fine” he sighs and stands up, throwing on his overcoat. Considering the traffic, limited parking space and weather conditions- he should leave 10 minutes ago. “I hope you plan on putting something on top” his eyes are locked on the window as you slide into your heels. 

“It’s fucking Novemeber, Jay. Of course I am” you retort, with a snarky grin. 

“One more word” his patience has seemed to run dry- still, you don’t seem to care, only finding it amusing. 

Ever since that night, you have purposefully been lingering around him longer than necessary. Wearing little to no clothes, 'accidentally’ touching him. And of course, he notices.

Jay is hyper aware of every single one of your actions- and to be completely honest, each time he’s a shot away from bending your frail little body over his knee and slapping the shit out of your ass. 

Trying to get work done in his home office is practically impossible- it always ends the same. 

“What are you doing?” you’d ask him, your voice sultry. And to make it even fucking better, the only thing that seperates him from your sweet pussy is a black thong and the oversized shirt thats (barely) covering it. 

And even when he managed to tell you ‘It’d be better if you leave’, you just fucking wouldn't. Not now, not ever. 

Instead, your hands would land onto his shoulders, massaging the tense muscles. The touch goes straight to his cock, and he really prays you don’t notice. It’s stupid- obviously you do. 

You slip your arm through his as the two of you enter the beauty of one of the Parisian theaters. He exchanges a few words with one of the workers, a polite smile on his face. You barely understand anything, of course. 

The private balcony Jake had acquired for Jay was way too perfect- secluded, away from wandering eyes. It’s almost like every possible thing has aligned just right for you to break him. 

Jake, completely unaware, got these seats for him strictly based on the flawless view of the stage. Jay isn't looking at it, not for a moment. 

Your legs are crossed as you watch the story unveil. The slit in your dress shifts just enough to expose the bare skin of your thigh, and he feels like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. Fuck, he’s a lost cause, truly. 

Jay exhales, slowly, adjusting his sleeves, trying, forcing himself to look forward. Spotting Jake’s giddy face, he wonders if the man knows just how much he’s fucked him over with the private seats. His lack of attention to the play makes up for it though. 

You can feel his wandering eyes on you, on your body. Your hand lands on his thigh “You’re not paying attention, Jay” you say his name like it’s fucking funny, like you know just how much it will affect him. 

“And you’re pushing your luck” he whispers back, swallowing as your touch moves up higher. 

“Am I?” you breathe out. 

His hand catches your wrist in a firm, unwavering grip. He yanks you closer, his lips next to your ear “Careful”

You don’t move away, only further shortening the distance that separates you from him “You brought me here” the words ring in his ear as you press a slow kiss to his jawline “You know what would happen” lips slide down his neck, as teeth lightly nip the birthmark on his skin. 

He guides your hand closer to his crotch, pressing it firmly against his fucking obvious hard on “Did I?” he muses, his grip on your wrist loosening. 

Oh he did. He knew it would end like this- it was just the matter of when and where exactly. Here, in the car, in the foyer, kitchen, living room, your bed or his. But of course he wouldn't want to admit that to you, or better, himself even. 

You look around, and there is a sense of hesitance in your eyes. Everyones so focused, nobody would even notice if your hand just slipped underneath his pants. 

Jay wants to take you so fucking deep you won't even remember your own name. So hard you’ll end up forgetting anything before him. 

He removes your hand from his body, standing up slowly, smoothing down his pants. He moves around to stand behind you, and  leans down, his fingers pressing against your neck “So spoiled. Things won’t happen for you that easily” 

You feel his lips press against your skin in a fleeting moment before he leaves. It’s a promise of something forbidden, a claim he’s now placed on you that cannot be taken back.

______

For winter break, your father and Ann had asked if you wanted to come back, and spend Christmas in New York. They were willing to purchase the tickets, and it came to you as something rather surprising.  

You knew it was Ann’s idea- it couldn't have been your dad’s, it never was.  She would never become a motherly figure to you considering she wasn't much older, but that didn't mean her caring attitude for both you and Jungwon went unnoticed. 

Without much thought, you agreed, almost instantly calling Sunghoon and Jungwon to announce the news. 

Your brother was beyond thrilled to see his big sister,  complaining how hard it’s been without you by his side “I always hear them, talking, yelling- you know how loud they get, right? But still it feels so lonely. I miss you” he said, voice hushed. 

Guilt was something that arose only when you confronted Jay about it. Of course you felt bad- his kindness spread beyond any stupid favour he had towards your father. He welcomed you into his home, letting you freely live in the confines of his space, and even allowing your obviously flirty and borderline sexual behavior towards him. 

“Okay” he replied, lifting his gaze from a file he was currently working through. 

It was one of those clients where he was forced to rely primarily on research, and he hated those the most. The frenzied pace that came with cases his managing partner rushed him through were his favorite- probably because it gave him little to no time to think about everything else in his life. 

He came home at midnight, sometimes a little later and all he had energy for was a shower and falling into bed. So even on his days off, he tries to surround himself with as many things as he can. 

Right now, you  couldn't tell if he was mad, or maybe even relieved to have you gone for the next two weeks. On another thought, reading into his behavior is what continues to make you feel insane- so it’d be better not to. 

“Will you be fine?” he chuckles at your question, finding the answer almost obvious. 

He’s been fine his whole life, and truly, if only you knew how not fine he would be, you’d probably laugh at him. 

“It really doesn't affect me, you know?” he affirms, taking off his glasses and leaning back in his chair, not even masking the way his eyes wander over your body. 

You sit down on the desk in front of him, looking down at the file “Liar” it’s barely audible, but Jay hears you. He hears you very well. 

He scoffs softly, shaking his head “I really hate lying, you know?” The firm tone in his voice  almost makes it sound true. 

You prop yourself on one hand, tilting your head and quirking an eyebrow at his statement. It’s humorous in a way- how he desperately tries to pretend in front of you that nothing significant happened. 

“Yet you keep lying to yourself” you say it like it's obvious. Jay doesn't seem to enjoy the reminder of his stupidity and failed oblivion. 

“What about?” he questions, but already knows the answer. It’s almost like he just wants to hear you say it, test if you actually know what he thinks about every night. 

“About the things you want to do to me” the words come out so easily, like you’ve known far too long, maybe even before he did. He’s stunned, even though he expected it. 

The next morning, he drove you to the airport, the car ride terrifyingly silent. The radio in his car had been broken for sometime now and he’s been meaning to get it fixed, but the time he’s spent without it, naturalized it. 

So many things have become weirdly, almost unsettlingly natural that he craves so badly to remember what it was like before. He finds himself wondering how he possibly survived all this time- how did the loneliness not drown out every possible part of him until he was nothing but flesh and bones. 

You look out the window, tapping your fingers against your thigh. The silence is so foreign and you wonder where it comes from. 

Did you go too far? Did you finally break him? Could you have possibly said too much? But if he despised the art of lying so much, then how could the truth make him so uncomfortable? 

“Have a good Christmas” he said with a stoic expression, pulling out your small suitcase from his trunk. 

Jay stands there, waiting for you to say something that’ll let him leave, set him free. But you don't. You don't move either, just look around- at him, his car, the airport, the other cars and people- some kissing, hugging, crying or even smiling. Christmas seemed to be such a happy but equally miserable time.

He hates that this will happen again. He knows that soon enough, he’ll have to say goodbye and it won't be temporary. It’s just two weeks- 14 fucking days. You’re still there, only an inch of separation between you, but he's already missing you. 

It comes to him only when he’s leaned down, pressing you tightly against his warm body. He hopes you can't feel how fast his heart is beating and how his hands shake when they hold onto your waist and shoulder. At first it seemed like your body stiffened, and he thought you might push him away. But you didn't, soon enough melting into his touch. 

It seems so overly dramatic, but to you, it means the world. 

With a small smile he ushers you to go with a swify motion of  his hand, and you nod, descending into the airport. He watches you, and even after you're out of his sight, he stands there, perhaps hoping you’ll run back out. It takes him 4 more minutes to get back into his car and go off to the firm. 

Jay spends Christmas Eve with his friends from the firm (and their wife’s). He and Anton- another fellow senior partner- seem to be the only men at the table without a wife or child. And just that same thing seems to be the topic of discussion tonight. 

As they help Jake and his wife, Valérie, gather the dishes and clear the table, she turns to him, and asks politely “Where is that woman I saw you with?” he almost missed it over the sound of constant clatter and the running tap. 

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking at her with a mix of confusion and curiosity “What woman?” Anton seems to wonder the same thing as he places his interest back on the conversation at hand. 

Jake turns off the tap, taking the plates into his hands and drying them one by one. He joins in on the conversation, his expression one of slight excitement “The one you took to see the play” he confirmed what Jay had already been thinking about.  “I wanted to come and greet you two, but you disappeared before I even got the chance” he adds, saddened. 

Jay exhales. He doesn't know what to tell them when they soon start asking for specifics- he could lie, and it’d probably make him feel good too, but there's no way they hadn't noticed how young you are. He’d look like such a creep, wouldn't he? 

“Is she not your girlfriend?” Valérie flips the question,  making it easier to answer in a way. He feels just that small bit of relief. 

Jay swallows at the words. The implication makes him feel terrible- he lives in a world where conformity is encouraged and what he’s doing isn't normal or even accepted in the slightest by the masses. 

He shakes his head, avoiding eye contact. “No” it’s so quick he hopes they won't say anything else, and perhaps move onto the next topic. 

She smiles at him downwardly “That’s misfortunate” 

Oh, Valérie. Isn't it? 

After dinner with your family (and Sunghoon) you return to your room. You note how uncomfortably cold it seems to be in the house- how much more unfamiliar this place now felt to you. It no longer had the life you tried so badly to persevere. 

From the small cracks in your door, you hear Jungwon bickering with Sunghoon about a football match. The latter seems to be taking great pleasure in frustrating your little brother and you find it quite adorable how easily Jungwon gets bothered by things like this. 

It’s 12 and the atmosphere doesn't seem to be dying down as your father gets everyone started with another bottle of wine. 

It’s 7 in Paris. You wonder what he could possibly be up to- working himself away in his office, drinking with friends or maybe worse, on a date with someone. Your finger hovers over his contact number and it feels incredibly infantile. It takes you back to highschool- sleepovers with your friend where you’d play truth or dare, the challenge being calling the boy you like. In a way, it feels exactly the same this time, the difference being, Jay is a grown man and not some horny, sweaty teenage boy. And you, you’re not 15 anymore. 

He wouldn't mind, would he? Your only goal is checking if he’s doing alright, if he’s happy. There's barely any harm in that. But before you get to formulate a reasonable enough motive for your call, his voice sounds through the phone's speaker. 

“Hello?” He sounds surprised, a gratifying sense of tiredness lacing his tone. You exhale, before speaking “Hi” it’s quiet and uncertain, as if you hope the volume will make it less significant. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, a twinge of worry in his voice. 

He was back at his apartment with Jake when he saw you call. His friend had left with him, as his wife had promised her brother, Ezra, to stop by before the day ended (and Jake, well, he wasn’t quite fond of him). They lolled about, discussing Jake’s next play, The Night We Almost Met (Valerie had convinced him to not quit "Pregnancy is not a disease, Jake") the professional negligence lawsuit he’s working on, a case Jay is working on between a fast-growing software development firm and a cloud storage provider, and more importantly- Jay’s secretive love life. 

He stood from the comfort of his sofa, pointing to his phone “I have to take this” he said quickly to his friend who just nodded, a state of sleep overcoming him at a rapid pace. 

“Mmm” the sound of confirmation seemed to make his heart steady a bit- he wonders why he was even stressed in the first place. Perhaps it’s because sometimes he worries you’ll decide to leave for good, you’ll finally realize that this place was never meant for you and Parsons was the better choice “Where are you?” you add questioningly, and he takes a moment to reply. 

“Home” he makes it sound like a dual effort, and it makes you smile slightly. Like the home he means is not only his, but yours too. And in a way, it’s true- Jay has suddenly realized just how terrifyingly awful the silence is whenever he comes back to the apartment after a long day. He realizes just how much he needs you to fill the void in his heart- one created by the love he never received “Was Christmas nice?” His tone is confusingly soft, something you don’t even recall from the day that you came to him. 

“It was nice; it really was” you answer, and he hums in response, the sound ushering you to continue “I missed Jungwon. And Sunghoon. New York in general, I think though” you say, and he bites back his tongue before he says something stupid (because truly, how could anyone miss New York? Then again, he does realize he’s probably the only one with such an incessant problem towards the city). 

There’s a brief moment where neither you or him say anything, the time filled with unspoken thoughts and words that linger at the tip of your tongues. There are so many things he wishes he could tell you at the moment- how much he wants to kiss you, how much he misses having you around, talking to you. And how fucking much he wants to make the filthiest and most impure form of love to you. But he assumes it's probably better to let you live on without the knowledge. For now, at least. 

You hesitate, but before you know it, the words, almost involuntarily, slip past your lips  “I miss you”. 

There’s another pause, as he repeats it over and over again in his head. The knot in his stomach grows tenfold as he fully grasps the feeling at hand- how much it has actually taken over his life, and how he doesn’t mind it- not at all. 

Jay realizes that there is no fulfilling answer to his situation other than giving in, and that in itself, never really was an illicit or morally wrong answer.  He knows that he would hate himself so much more if he never tried, rather than if he let himself follow his desires and it resulted in failure. He was ready to take that risk, as long as you’d still have him. 

Through his drunken memories, he remembers when he first saw you, saying things he later cringed at and regretted. He recalls the exact thought process he had when you came to your home on Hester St., trudging towards your father with the letter in hand. It was obvious to him, and he didn’t even bother giving himself the day to think about it- right there and then he knew so well that he’d be the one to house you, and take care of you. 

You bothered him so much, when he was cooking or working or reading, yet he never even thought to get mad  at you. Jay wanted you to do it, sometimes even putting himself out there just so you could torture him a little more. 

“I miss you too, sweetheart”  

_____ 

A week later, you were back in France.

You had insisted on getting back home by yourself. At one point, he was practically begging to take you, but you prevailed “I have to pick something up from Karina’s” you told (Karina was your class partner turned friend, whom you were currently working on a collection with) He sighed, eventually accepting the reasoning. 

He sits in the courtroom, and curses himself because today, he’s truly a terrible lawyer. One that he himself would have hated just months ago. All he thinks about is you, unconsciously counting down the hours until he can go back home to you. He feels so childlike at that moment, but he can allow it, just this once, he thinks. 

Luck doesn’t seem to be on his side that day- as soon as he steps out of the hall, his phone buzzes with a call from the managing partner, Nicholas Allard, who informs him of a partner's dinner later in the evening “You better be there, Park. Especially since you’re eyeing name partner” the sternness in his voice makes Jay huff. “I’m not”

Nicholas always says that, and it inexplicably irritates him, because he truly isn’t. Jay was fully satisfied with being senior partner, furthermore, staying senior partner. Nothing would change if his name appeared on the wall- he’d be stuck with the same pretentious clients, and maybe even become pretentious himself. He didn’t want that. 

All the way through dinner he begs for it to finally end. Anton apparently had helped Nicholas choose the restaurant- Pur’ on Rue de la Paix- and he laughs at his friends’ desperation. He had been the one actually hoping to get his last name slapped right next to Nicholas’. Everyone had noticed by now, and secretly made fun of the man for it“The Russian hooker I slept with last Saturday is nothing compared to the way he’s riding Allards dick. Maybe he should take her place” They were out for lunch, absent-mindedly cracking jokes about their friend. 

You were working with Karina at her apartment. She lived on Rue Erard, near Reuilly-Diderot station. It was further away from the city centre, but she didn’t mind. Karina shared the space with a Japanese student, Aeri, who studied science at the European International University. They got along, she said, but it seemed like they lived in two completely different worlds sometimes. And you understood that. 

It was hard for you to have actual conversations with Jay at first. He was so engulfed in a world you had no actual grasp of. And he never cared for the arts of fashion that you loved so dearly. For you, he was too serious at times, and to him, you were too carefree. 

“Are you seeing someone?” she asked you, waxing a pair of pants you had sewn together. You shook your head, although it felt somehow wrong. It felt untrue even when it, unfortunately, was very much true. You wanted to say yes because a part of you had already begun to accept a reality that wasn’t quite veracious. A confirmation in the form of that short, simple and breathy ‘yes’ would help you go on with the zeal needed. 

By the time you got home, Jay was already there. He almost jumped when he heard the keys unlock the sturdy door. It opened with a creak and you softly glanced inside before opening it fully. He marks his book, slipping off his glasses and lying it all down on his coffee table. He trembles with desire, his leg twitching as the moment he’s woken up thinking about, has finally been handed to him. 

He clears his throat slightly, and it’s like a hand that he’s extending out for you, asking you to come with him. You drop your suitcase and bag to the floor, opening the glass door that separates the foyer from the rest of the apartment. He can almost grab onto the change that spreads through the air between you. Jay feels it with his bare hands as you sit down next to him, the silence acting as a welcoming gesture. It says enough for the two of you to know you’ve missed the other. 

“Tired?” he asks, and there’s a hint of guilt in his expression as he regrets not just forcing you to take his offer in the form of a ride home. But he knows you’re too stubborn anyway. 

You nod, and sigh softly. He doesn’t hesitate to open his arms, inviting you into his comforting embrace. You accept, almost too hurriedly. The action makes him chuckle. Jay wraps his arms around your figure, your back pressing against his chest. Your head leans back as you look up at him with a small smile. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. He stops at your fingers, interlacing them with his own. You squeeze tightly and nod. 

“Yeah. Dad asked about you, a lot. You should call him” your response makes him tense up. He feels sick. 

Jay has been avoiding your fathers phone calls, or making them as short as possible. The frequency of his avoidance has increased substantially, especially since the night you slept in his room.There’s a prevailing guilt ridiculing him everytime he sees his best friend call- your father trusted him with you, and he probably never doubted that same trust. So easily, Jay broke it, never once thinking about the consequences, not when he was making out with you in his bed or touching himself to the image of you. 

He swallows, and nods, knowing  he won’t be able to anytime soon, especially not after today “I will” he falsely assures “How is Jungwon?” he rushes away from the topic of your dad, and you don’t seem to notice, smiling at the mention of your little brother. 

You play with his fingers “Fine, I think. He’s really impressed by you, y’know? God, maybe he’ll go to law school himself. That’d be good” you go on, and he laughs softly, nodding in acceptance. He feels a sense of pride at your words, but he’d never admit it. 

He hums softly in response, unsure of what he should say. He’s never been good with compliments. He just assumes you know he’s grateful, especially it being your brother whom he knew you cherished very dearly “Do you need anything?” he asks, and even though it’s almost midnight, he’s ready to get you anything you want, even if that request entails him going to the other end of the city. It really is serious for him. 

You shake your head, guiding his hand onto your stomach. He knows exactly what you're suggesting. And this time, he’s far from opposed. 

“You sure?” he whispers, his fingers moving against your skin as you let go of his hand. The softness of his fingertips causes your body to tremble slightly “Are you sure you don't need anything?” he asks again, his voice sultry. 

Jay eyes you intently, watching the way you fight back the words. You know that it was a matter of slightly parting your lips and he’d be made fully aware of exactly the thing you need. And he’d enjoy it too much, you knew that. Even in such an exposing position, you still wanted to hold onto that small piece of power you owned. 

He unties the strings of your sweatpants, the movement slow and teasing. He toys with it, toys with you. You’re so much smaller against him, so weak and delicate. You embody a cleanliness he can no longer have, and he’s tried so hard not to take that away from you- but he can no longer fight it. 

His hand comes dangerously close to the band of your underwear, threatening to slip past it. There’s a small whine that slips off your tongue as he continues to stay close, but nowhere near where you actually need him. 

And Jay wants to rip the fabric away, feel on his own skin just how much you want him too, but he finds the sight of you so restrained and at his mercy heavily amusing. You move in his embrace, desperately trying to create some sort of friction, but he quickly stills you “Stop moving. You want this, don’t you?” and when you nod, he squeezes your hip tighter. 

He traces the lace of your panties, chuckling as he watches you spread your legs wider for him. Unconsciously, but still, it makes even him impatient “Tell me what you want me to do” his voice is low, breath hot on your skin. His lips leave open-mouthed kisses along the vein on your neck “And I’ll do it”  

Your words come out in ragged breaths “I want you to touch me” there’s a small smile that spreads on his lips sas he hears you speak. 

Jay moves the loose strands of hair from your ear, his lips barely touching the reddened skin “Here?” he whispers, pressing his fingers into your clothed cunt, feeling the moisture wet his touch. He watches you nod repeatedly, moving your hips forward, trying to prolong the feeling. He laughs, allowing it for just a moment longer. 

“Jesus” he mutters, watching you slowly depricate yourself in his arms “So fucking greedy, acting like a bitch in heat” he laughs, rubbing his hand against you, moving back and forth, spreading your lips apart and fucking his fingers into your covered hole. He knows he’ll have to give in soon, the depth going as far as the stretch of the material allows it. 

Jay is honestly surprised by the person you’ve morphed into. You had so much to say before, but now, it seems like you’ve shied away from your snarky comments. You seem scared- scared that he’ll stop, leave you when you’re just steps away from the pinnacle of that moment. He likes how compliant you are, and wonders just how far he can push this newly discovered obedience “So, so impatient… Don’t you wanna show me how good you can be for me?” 

“I do; I do” you repeated after he stopped any and all movement, his other hand holding you down, preventing you from just doing it yourself “Then fucking do it” he groaned. 

He slowly, but surely pulled the fabric away, hissing as his fingertips were met with your raw, pulsing flesh. Your chest rises and falls unevenly, the sequence of sounds continuing as he picks up his pace, each time going further, and further, until two of his digits are fully plunged into your sopping cunt.  He takes on a slow tempo, savouring every sound- your legs rubbing against the leather of the couch, the wet slosh of his fingers reentering you, your body trembling in his grasp alongside the ruffle of his shirt, and ultimately, the sweet noises that escape your throat. 

Eventually, he adds a third digit, watching you wince slightly at the intrusion. He smiles, watching you take so proudly and wholly whatever he gives you “Good… you’re so good to me” the praise sounds through the room, and echoes through the canyons of your heart, as the strong feeling begins to overcome your senses with an intensity you’ve never known before “Such a sweet girl… Who has touched you like this before? Tell me” 

Through a daze, you manage to mutter out a response, signifying to him that there was only one person before him. He nods, a smile decorating his lips, as he finds the answer more than satisfying “You really are clean” the years of keeping yourself in check suddenly seem to have paid off. 

He’s impressed with how you’ve managed to sustain the drive he couldn’t even contain for longer than a week at your age. But then again, who would he be if he had saved himself longer? 

“Can I..?” you start, embarrassed to say the words. But Jay knows exactly what you mean, and after a moment he nods. Your body slumps against his, tired and ready, as you focus strictly on what he’s giving you. 

And even after you come all over his bony fingers, he doesn't stop, the speed increasing as if he wants to, and likes to watch you cry out with a fatigued expression, face twisting from the overstimulation “Just a little more” he mumbled the words a couple times, kissing your shoulder. 

Eventually Jay pulls out, smearing the release that paints his fingers all over your inner thighs “You look so pretty like this” he speaks, watching you breathe heavily, with half-lidded eyes that are barely able to stay open. 

He gently cleans you up, kissing you on the forehead as he rises back to his feet. He leads you to your bedroom, lying your frail body down in the cold bed. Before he can leave, you speak out to him softly “Stay” 

And so he does. 

____

3 years ago, for his 35th birthday, he bought land in Cassis, located in the southern part of France. Jake had been the one to convince him to do so, since Jay wasn’t the greatest when it came to spending such large sums of money. He never acquired the habit, most likely because he wasn’t even aware of the things he could possibly buy with the unexpectedly large amounts of money he earned every month. 

He had initially imagined living there when he retired- quiet and harmonious (since he certainly wasn’t planning on going back to New York). The months passed, he even received approval to build his dream house on the land, yet still, it was left abandoned as he occupied his mind with everything but actual construction. 

Valerie, who worked as an architect, made sketches for him which he honestly loved. The plans portrayed a one story, beautiful mediterranean estate with a large terrace and impressive garden. He could see himself in such a place- blissfully unaware of the horrors that unveil themselves around the world. Disinterested and free. 

Two months ago he had decided to call Valerie, and announce to her his willingness to begin construction. At first she didn’t believe him- “Jay, we both know you don’t”- and when he had finally convinced her it was real this time, she referred him to one of the construction companies she and Jake had hired when they were helping her parents build their home. 

Last month, assembly began- Jay had gone down to the property two times since, one time alone, one time with you. “This room” he points to a space on the drawing that faces a landscape of mesmerizing limestone cliffs and vast pools of aquamarine water “You could make those pretty things here. All day” he smiles softly, referring to the dresses you always made sure to show him before handing the projects in at the academy. 

You’d model for him, as he’d lean back on the couch, giving you instructions “From the back” there’d be a pause, a mischievous grin on his face “Bend down a little for me” he’d say, and of course, with a proud face you’d comply. He knew what he was doing and you knew why you were doing it. Because it would always end the same- he’d hold you down on his lap, watching the pretty faces you’d make while his cock fills you completely. 

But again, would it really be yours? He had said it so plainly, so much that it even seemed plausible. It imitated a normalcy that was never yours to begin with, and no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself, it never would be. 

Last week, the construction manager contacted him, and made him aware of the unstable soil in some areas. It would require additional foundation work to ensure structural stability- that entailed a supplementary plan and extra costs. 

The whole process began to get irrationally stressful for him as the build just kept on encountering problems, all while he was promised a smooth and fast completion. 

And he doesn’t blame Jake, Valerie, or even the company he hired. He blames himself, for his stupidity, for believing that he could have nice things in life. This has to be something telling him that the nice apartment, luxurious car and plump pay check was enough, all he can get. 

He keeps the door to his study slightly ajar. There's two piles of paperwork on the desk and both look terribly gruesome and tiring. He doesn't feel like thinking today- not about the house, not about his work, and not about what he’ll eat for dinner. But he chose this life- he can't complain when everythings he’s ever done was for this exact moment. 

With a sigh, and almost childlike tug of the lawsuit that’s been sitting on his desk for a good two weeks now, he begins to go through it. His head is propped up on his fist, eyes lazily scanning the words. 

Jay keeps looking over to the papers, plans, magazines on his table- he thinks about Valerie's call where she excitedly asked him about fucking kitchen tiles. To his surprise, he found it oddly entertaining and domestic. Jay Park, a well-known Parisian lawyer, prefers quarry tiles over marble. Revolutionary, truly. 

His door creaks open, and he looks up, seeing your head peeking inside of his office. He smiles softly, and nods- his way of telling you to come in. 

You close the door upon entering, and take a look around. Nothing ever changes inside here- it’s always messy in an organized way. There’s a woody and musky smell in the air, something that only stays in this same office. 

“Come here” he motions you to his lap, eventually closing the file and dropping it into his drawer, for later, of course. Well, he already knows he’ll probably pass it on to one of the associates, who'll see it rather as a blessing than a burden. 

“Everything alright?” you ask, watching his face, illuminated only by the yellow lighting of his small lamp. Jay slips off his glasses, tossing them lightly onto the desk. He sighs, and reluctantly, nods “Doesn't seem like it” you add after his confirmation.

“Sweetheart, don’t worry about me” his hand caresses your bare thigh, his touch barely anything. It was so light you could mistake it for something that it surely wasn't. 

Your fingers toy with the material of his shirt, undoing two more buttons. His tan skin glistens under the dim lighting, and you notice the mole on his collarbone. You hum softly, hand moving up to his shoulder “Tell me the truth” you plead, and he looks down, trying to somehow put into words the things that suddenly don't seem so troublesome or serious. 

“The house, you know, it won't be done soon” he tells, and his expression doesn't change “You shouldn't worry about it. I’ll get it figured out” he adds before you can answer. You wait for a moment, holding your breath, but eventually nod, understandingly. 

Jay doesn't share much of his thoughts, not ever, so you know that even if this is only half of his worries, he would never tell you the rest. He cherished your peace over any selfish act of  ‘getting something off his chest’. He didn't believe in that and never would. 

“I want to help you” you say, hand under his shirt, tracing the outline of his muscles. You run your thumb over his nipples, and he hisses at the sensation. He’s been touched, but never like this. He especially feels that touch go straight to his already hardening cock. 

“You do? Then bend over, pretty girl” Jay doesn’t feel like wasting any time. He knows he doesn’t need foreplay or any other form of preparation- you were ready before he even touched you. You came to him for the sole reason of getting fucked, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. 

With a satisfied grin, you lean your elbows on his desk, turning your head to watch him unbuckle his belt. With a swift motion, the leather piece falls open, and he doesn’t even bother to remove it. He grabs your face, harshly pressing his lips onto your mouth, licking inside it, pushing his tongue against yours, past it, and as far down your throat as it will go. His hands tug at your shorts, yanking them off along with your underwear. The material pools at your knees, and he pulls away from the kiss, eyeing your half naked form. 

He plays with the plump skin, groping it, squeezing, slapping it until the spot turns red. He commits to memory how each action elicits a different reaction from you. When he strikes you again, a tear rolls down your cheek and he feels like he could come on the spot, untouched “Such a sweet little thing you are. I could watch you all the time” he coos, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. 

With one hand, he pries off his boxers, while the other caresses your sensitive ass. His fully erected, and leaking shaft springs out, slapping against his lower abdomen. He bites his lower lip at the feeling “Fuck” he groans, jerking himself off, spreading the precum that puddles at his tip along his entire length. 

You tug at his arm, whining impatiently “Jay..” he chuckles at your eagerness, finding the willingness almost equally as arousing as your pretty face and body. 

You’ve become fully dependent on him- he was your sole provider for everything- a roof over your head, a ride to the academy in the morning, a warm meal, and since he didn’t want you to work, all the money you had was his. And maybe it should bother you, the fact that nothing is truly yours, but it doesn’t. Jay is equivalent to your survival, and you’d make it a great priority to repay him for that. 

As he thrusts into you, his cock intruding your tight ass at a ferocious pace, the phone rings. 

Through blurred vision, you recognize it. A picture of Jay and your father (presumably taken right before Jay’s departure 20 years ago) stares back at you. His name flashes across the screen, ridiculing you. Jay peels the phone off the table, his thumb hovering over the green button. 

“J-Jay… don’t” you mutter, and at that, he cruelly tugs at your hair, causing your head to jerk back, teary eyes staring at his serious expression “Quiet. You don’t want him to hear you, do you?” 

You nod, and his finger presses the answer button. Your teeth bite down on your swollen lip, trying to encapsulate any forbidden sound. 

A beaming voice finally speaks “Jong! I thought you’d never pick up..” 

Jay laughs in such a natural, unbothered way, as if he’s not doing anything wrong, as if your father should have known this would happen. Because, he truly should have. “Life’s hectic” he answers, his best friend act almost too believable. 

But how could he ever consider himself a good friend again? After this? He stopped being your fathers friend from the moment you stepped into his apartment, and he should’ve realized it quicker. 

“How is she?” your dad asks, and the kindness in his voice is almost insufferable. Jay presses his palm flat on your back, his speed increasing substantially, tone unchanging though. 

“Really good. I take care of her well, I think” he answers, and feels himself getting closer. Your father, blissfully unaware, seems to be delighted at his friend's words, thanking him over and over again for his kindness. 

You and Jay never had anything in common to begin with. Being a lawyer was his whole life, helping greedy, rich bastards become even richer was the only thing that really defined him. And you were the artistic soul he could never find himself understanding. You were impractical in your work, and he- he relied on a firm law that bent under no circumstances. 

Yet still, you managed to have one similarity after all- you were a terrible daughter and he; he was a terrible, terrible friend. 

But Jay does take good care of you. He really does take great care of you. All the time. And well, if your father were to find out just how well, you’ll still be a living memory of him that Jay will hold onto.

His sweet, little souvenir. 

TAGLIST- @jooniesbears-blog @fancypeacepersona @somuchdard @yoonglestangies @petalsofink @strayy-kidz @thinkinboutbin @miuangel @jjongstar111 @sunooqvrlsx @jaeyunsbimbo @punchbug9-blog @hanibani-707

[seosracha]

CALL IT WHAT YOU WANT ✧ P.JS [ PART 1 ]

PAIRING ✧ sugar daddy!jay x fem reader GENRE ✧ 18+(mdni), adulthood, 12 years age gap (reader is 22, jay is 34), ceo!jay, strangers to lovers, fluffs, soft love kinda, he falls first and falls harder, jay is a huge simp WARNING ✧ slow burn-ish, lengthy fic, some dramas, misunderstanding and miscommunication, angst, jealous-possessive!jay, explicit themes WORDCOUNT ✧ 41.7K

SYNOPSIS ✧ jay park is famously known for excelling in anything he does, except his mundane love life — it's practically nonexistent. maybe it's the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married, but he no longer desires to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. that is when he finally meets you — the perfect woman just for him, and perhaps the one that his heart and soul have been searching for in a long time. but the only issue is that you only see him as your sugar daddy, or so he thought.

PART 2

-smut warnings under cut-

smut warnings: lengthy and possibly badly written smut, unprotected sex (no!), soft dom!jay, semi-mean dom!jay, sub!reader, reader whines and whimpers alot, ready is needy, pussy and tit lover!jay, lots of kissing, crying, name calling, making out, degradation, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, clit and nipple play, choking, ass and tits spanking, rough sex, eventual mild vanilla, squirting, creampies, overstimulations, multiple orgasms, aftercare, idk what else..

Love used to be a foreign concept that piqued a minuscule interest within him, as it served him no purpose, a sentiment so inconsequential to a man whose time pirouettes across the monotonous routine of corporate life.

Sure, a part of him revelled in the promiscuous attention from the ladies of all classes that inflated his ego, acutely aware of his sexual appeal that he took advantage of whenever he needed a reprieve from all the stifled emotions that stemmed from the taxing work and weighty obligation as a CEO, eventually leading to a coition with ladies of his pick that happened occasionally, but he felt nothing close to love — only pure lust. By the time the coitus came to an end, the lascivious attraction he once felt towards those same ladies dissipated as quickly as he diminished the hope of those who keenly desired him more than just their one-night stand. 

Perhaps his desireless interest in love and dating stemmed from the fact that his parents rarely ever displayed affection and love towards one another throughout the years he grew up in the dull household that was completely devoid of any warmth or even the parental love he once yearned for. The warmth and affection he only ever received was from his nanny and the friends he made in his adolescent years until he reached the maturity to make a rationalised decision that he didn’t need love, not when all that mattered to him was to prevail against his dictatorial parents.

Hence, after years of different hurdles and industrious dedication to get where he is now, he has become a notable CEO who independently and successfully managed to establish a major corporation that now holds a valuable standing in the high society of today’s business, one of the most powerful conglomerates in the country, and whose reputation surpasses the ones in the same league as him in the business industry. Most importantly, he has successfully freed himself from the clutches of his parents by demonstrating his far greater capabilities than they had often underestimated.

But eventually, years of prioritising his work-life and undervaluing the importance of love come bearing repercussions on his singularity that he once preserved. Despite being a successful business tycoon who wields the power and wealth that intimidates those in the same league, he certainly isn’t feeling successful now in the slightest upon the dejecting epiphany.

Park Jongseong, otherwise known as Jay Park, the preeminent CEO who evokes both admiration and intimidation from the masses of those in the high society of business, whose name is often uttered with quivering lips from those lower in hierarchy, whose confident demeanour seemingly exudes an indestructible security, and a pragmatic businessman who has been known to be apathetic towards marriage, is now ironically facing a predicament that involves his overt desperation in finding a suitable partner for him.

Jay can’t pinpoint the exact moment of this deep yearning for love ingrained within him, but perhaps it has to do with his aristocratic mother, who once reached out to him to inform him that he’s of the age to be wed for the umpteenth time, or it’s the pressure that constantly presses down on him due to being surrounded by his peers who are either engaged or married. Not to forget the constant questions that pertain to marriage, which he receives from his peers whenever he is needed to attend an event.

Initially, Jay decided to dismiss such trivial matters as he was very much content without a significant other, but as time passed, he began to feel a profound loneliness whenever he was in the presence of couples or the passing love stories being exchanged in the others’ conversations. He tried to ward off the longing of a lover, but what was once a morsel of interest in love has entirely consumed him. He couldn’t even bring himself to invite other women to his bed like he used to, and it’s been approximately four years since he ever got laid, promising himself to be devoted to his future lover.

From there on, Jay knew that he no longer desired to retain his solitude, yearning to find someone with the intention to settle down. So he began to try dating with the help of his trustworthy best friend, but none of those women sparked any interest within him, nor did they meet his standards, which was ironic because he genuinely had no idea what he was actually looking for in a partner. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that those women he dated in the past didn’t really understand him, nor did they bother to get to know him other than ogling over his looks and desiring only his status to elevate their standing in high society.

Now, Jay knows what he truly wants, and that is to form a connection with someone who can reciprocate in a way he longs for. As it’s been months since he last went on a date, he decided to reach out to his best friend once more, but he definitely didn’t expect the latter’s new solution to be absurdly unconventional.

Jay assesses the content displayed on his phone screen again, and this time, with clear judgement in his eyes as he glances over at his best friend, who is lounging on the three-seater tuxedo sofa that is situated near the floor-to-ceiling windows of his own office and who is also currently grinning ear to ear. Jake Sim.

“So this was why you needed my phone for fifteen minutes?” Jay asks him slowly, as though he’s having a hard time grasping what he had just read, twice.

“I couldn’t miss out on any of your details or information. Plus, I had to go through your photos and upload some of your pics on your profile.” Jake groans dramatically, as if he had finished doing a task so laborious when all he had been doing was typing away on Jay’s phone with snickers escaping him intermittently. “Gotta say, you have a knack for taking great pics of yourself, for someone who hates getting his pics taken.”

But the compliment has no effect on the disbelieving male. “I’m looking for a potential partner that I can really connect with, not to acquire a damn sugar baby.” Jay grumbles, his eyes briefly glancing at his phone screen before a sigh escapes him as he rubs his faintly throbbing temple. “I might as well go back to one of the dating apps again.”

As it turns out, Jake decided that to extricate Jay from his prolonged predicament, the solution was to register the latter into the system of a rather crude app, which its purpose serves to benefit both parties — by both parties, it refers to sugar daddy and sugar baby, but these labels are only applicable once the transaction between both parties is finalised.

It’s risky on Jay’s end, as this would lead to the potential risk of damaging his reputation as well as the company’s if word got out that he had acquired a sugar baby, which would obviously insinuate that their relationship is purely yet risquély sensual, considering that sugar daddies and sugar babies are generally frowned upon. But in full honesty, Jay knows it himself that he’s untouchable, and nothing could ever mar his high-standing reputation or his company since he had been through worse — this has been proven when some of his nemeses attempted to destroy his empire back in his late 20s.

“I hate to break it to you, but none of the dating apps worked out for you, or have you forgotten?” Jake reminds as he casts Jay a knowing gaze.

Right, how could Jay have forgotten? To be fair, he had been on countless dates that were either set up by Jake or due to the dating apps that he exploited. Most of the women he had met and dated shared one thing in common despite coming from diverse backgrounds — they were all highly sophisticated and educated with impressive careers and undoubtedly materialistic, practically in his league. Still, none managed to captivate Jay’s interest, which Jake found bizarre and even told him that he fumbled big time with those ladies that could’ve been his wife by now. But what Jake didn’t understand is that neither of those — careers and status — mattered to Jay.

Jake notes the incertitude in Jay’s protracted silence before heaving a sigh. “It can’t be that bad, mate. Plus, this app is legit. Look at the reviews!”

“Legit, you say? For all you know, those reviews might turn out to be an artifice in order to attract users.” Jay asserts sternly before narrowing his eyes at Jake with suspicion. “Wait, have you used it before?”

“Nah. One of my employees told me how he met the love of his life through this app. In fact, some of my employees did.” Jake divulges, earning an inquisitive eyebrow raised from Jay. “This app is practically surpassing any dating site when it comes to effectiveness. In a way, it’s similar to a dating app with the addition of sugar babies getting the financial benefits, obviously.”

“That’s the thing, Jake. I’m not looking for a sugar baby.” Jay reiterates exasperatedly, but he can’t deny the growing interest at the prospect of having a sugar baby; well, more like the idea of his sugar baby being affectionate and giving him the attention he desired entices him.

“It won’t hurt for you to try.” Jake reasons with him, all the more to amplify that interest within him. “Besides, it would be a win-win for you, except you’d have to spend your money on your sugar baby— I mean, your future lover.”

Please. Even if Jay had managed to find the right one for him elsewhere, he wouldn’t mind spending his wealth on his lover unconditionally. The idea of his future lover spending his money feels just gratifying to him.

But the dubiety lingers in the recesses of his mind. “I don’t know, Jake.”

“This may or may not be your last resort if you want to find the right one for you, mate.” Jake’s words quickly dispel any worries or hesitation from Jay’s mind as the latter caves into the incessant temptation, now trying to navigate his way and familiarise himself with the app.

After getting the hang of it, Jay begins to check out the profiles of the sugar babies with a swift yet definitive swipe of his thumb. His face eventually twists into a grimace, almost as though he feels repulsed, rendering Jake, who has been observing him, curious.

“They’re all too young for me.” Jay expresses his concern, and he doesn’t bother to look up at his best friend, who ambles over to him before towering over his seated figure from behind.

Jake makes a noise that sounds as though he’s in disbelief. “What are you talking about? These ladies are only in their 20s, some probably still in university, but they’re all of legal age.” Jake counters, his tone bordering on such offence that Jay rolls his eyes at. “And you’re not that old. If you are, then what does that make me?” 

Jay ignores Jake as he continues to swipe on his phone. In all of his dating experiences, most of the women were older than him by a few months or years, and the youngest he’s ever dated was a twenty-four-year-old, but that was when he was twenty-eight. Now, he’s thirty-four, and the idea of dating a woman a decade younger than him just feels strange, even if they are of legal age. 

Just when Jay feels tempted to give up, a sugar baby captivates his interest the instant after he swipes the previous one, almost as if he has been bewitched by one look at your face. The previous sugar babies that he swiped are not exactly unattractive, but something about you seems highly appealing to him.

His heart gradually beats fast, almost erratic, while his eyes remain fixated on your face, feeling as though he has developed a ridiculous yet temporary crush on a passing stranger whom he knows that he would never see again, because damn, you are absolutely gorgeous.

Jay feels a compelling urge to pamper you like you deserve, be it with his money or time, and he couldn’t care less if you’d want more for as long as it’s his wealth that you’re spending or if you’d want to take up all of his time. Just the thought of it has him feeling a strange bubble of giddiness in his chest.

Jake leans forward in a bending position to get a good look at your face while his hand rests on the rear of Jay’s ergonomic leather chair. “Oh? She’s cute. Might want to send her a request.” Jake approves with a Cheshire grin on his face, earning a brief glance from Jay, but the latter’s thumb remains hovering above his phone screen, evidently hesitating to swipe or not. “I’m telling you that she’s the right one for you! I have a good feeling about her.”

Jay doesn’t respond to his best friend, feeling his tongue-tied as he taps on your profile, only to be distracted by other photos of you, albeit none is explicit. His eyes widen just a fraction as they feast greedily upon your hypnotic visual. Some of the photos display your full stature, and his mind resorts to producing such a vision that entails you having to tiptoe for your lips to meet him with your arms around his neck.

He quickly wards off the vision before deciding to read every detail and information about you with keen interest. You’re only twenty-two, the youngest sugar baby he came across after the tedious swiping earlier, and you indicated that you’re fresh out of college. He concludes that you’re a homebody upon reading your interests and hobbies. You’re also a foodie, which is perfect since he loves the idea of feeding his significant other with his impeccable cooking skills. But an info about you captures his attention, his eyes widening just a fraction while his heart pounds harder in his chest.

“Harvard University? She went to the same uni as us!” Jake points out in a gleeful exclamation as he pats Jay’s shoulder approvingly. “This is the exact reason why you should pick her. It’s fate.”

“I don’t know. I mean, she clearly indicated that she’s fresh out of college. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m being predatory.” Jay mutters, feeling disheartened as newfound insecurity rouses within him. He takes another look at your photos longingly. “Plus, I’m probably way out of her league.”

Even the words that leave his lips feel so foreign on his tongue, an unusual insecurity hitting him, but there is no doubt that a gorgeous woman like you has high standards. Plus, even by your photos alone, there is a refined charm exuding from you, a compelling allure that intensifies his newfound attraction towards you, but undoubtedly unparalleled to his own charms. And yet, he still wants you.

Jake eyes Jay in sheer disbelief, looking as if the latter grew another head, because after knowing him for years, no woman has ever made Jay insecure or less confident. Heck, he looks as though he’s just been rejected by you even before he could send you a request to chat.

“Are you really the Jay Park I know right now? You’re the damn CEO with a net worth of, like, what, more than your competitors’ combined? Trust me, she would want you. And you’re not being predatory when she’s already an adult.” Jake tries to uplift his best friend’s spirit, but the latter remains glum, eliciting an annoyed sigh from him. “I can’t believe I still have to do shit for you.”

In a blink of an eye, Jake snatches Jay’s phone away from him, prompting him to snap out of his gloomy rumination. “Hey! Give it back!” Jay barks out, abandoning his seat to retrieve his phone, but Jake is quick enough to put some distance between them and holds his palm out to the agitated male.

“Don’t get your pants twisted now. I’m only helping you to send a request to her since you’re taking an awfully long time. Don't want other sugar daddies to snatch her first.” Jake says with a sly grin before pressing on the request button option in a deliberate motion to piss him off.

“I can do it myself.” Jay grumbles as he manages to retrieve his phone. He looks down at his phone screen with a frown, but panic immediately drains the colour from his face. “Shit.”

The grin on Jake’s lips falls, concerned for his best friend. “What’s wrong?”

“She accepted my request!” Jay tells him in urgency while there is a weird sensation of an adrenaline rush within him. He paces back and forth, his eyes occasionally glancing down at his phone screen. From the way Jay looks incredibly worried, Jake would have mistaken that he’s facing a business bankruptcy. “Fuck, what do I do next?”

“Dude, seriously?” Jake scoffs loudly, feeling both annoyed and amused at how Jay already seems so whipped for you to the point where the sight is almost pathetic. No, really. The guy looks as if he had accidentally sent his love confession to his crush. “You’re fucking ridiculous. I’ve never seen you being so—"

“Are you going to help me out or not?” Jay cuts him off in a snappy tone, casting a glare at Jake, who is beginning to look exasperated by his eccentric behaviour.

“Just send her a damn text!” Jake bursts out in annoyance with hand gestures. His face contorts into a scowl as Jay has yet to make a move. “Don’t tell me you need me to do it for you too?”

Jay releases a shaky breath as he gathers his emotions that have been going haywire from the moment he swiped to your profile. His face hardens with determination. “I got this.” 

Jay sees a tiny green dot just below your miniature profile icon above, indicating that you’re online. He tames the odd yet annoying flutters within him as he proceeds to send you a text, hoping that it won’t come off awkward to you.

JAY: Hey.

You don’t think you could ever repay your best friend the way she truly deserves, not even with money. You could say that she’s your saviour because without her, you would probably have ended up living in the streets years ago the moment both of your parental figures decided to pursue their mutual interest in building their own respective families.

Though Sabrina is your saviour, you can’t exactly describe her as an angel. Sure, she has the face that is worthy to be worshipped, a dazzling beauty with her doll-like features, but she has the mouth of a sailor while her angel-like demeanour is a stark contrast to her vivacious personality. Still, no complaints from you, though, because only you know the pure benevolence of her heart.

Sabrina and you have always been attached at the hips since day one, since the day she fiercely defended you against the mean girls back in high school, since the day she saw the mistreatment you received from the ones who shared the same blood as you, since the moment she regarded you like her family, just as how her family became yours — the only time when you received familial love from the very people who treated you better than your own blood ever did. Heck, her parents practically raised you under their roof and regarded you as their daughter.

You will forever feel indebted to Sabrina and her family despite their sincere insistence on showing such kindness to you and the familial love that you once yearned for from your parents, for helping and supporting you in any way they could despite your adamant protests, and for being the reason why you clung onto the sliver of hope that life was still worth living.

But right now, a part of you feels tempted to eradicate that obligated debt you once held earnestly, your mind slowly spiralling into chaos while your eyes smoulder with unspoken ire as you assess the content on your phone screen before returning your gaze to your best friend.

“What did you do?” You ask her calmly, remaining eerily composed as opposed to the myriad of emotions that are embroiled in the storming chaos within you.

Oh, you know exactly what she did, and you may or may not resort to such undignified violence.

“I’m not quite sure what you meant.” Sabrina feigns innocence as she is comfortably perched on the couch, batting her naturally thick eyelashes at you in deliberation that aggravates your restrained wrath.

You raise your eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I don’t recall signing myself up to be a damn sugar baby.” 

You were rightfully appalled upon the discovery of an unfamiliar app that’s tailored for those in need of both fast cash and affection from older men after you had just finished showering. You shouldn’t have left your phone alone with your best friend, and you should’ve changed your password sooner.

“Fine. I might or might not have registered you on that app on your behalf.” Sabrina finally concedes, grinning at you cheekily despite the storms she can see above your head, her senses alerting her to be prepared for the imminent wrath. “Plus, I’ve already accepted the right sugar daddy for you! And he’s hot!”

Her words fall deaf to your ears, and the next you know, your restrained wrath goes unbridled that propels you in charging towards your best friend, whose pretence drops.

“I’m going to kill you!” You bellow furiously, eliciting a girly shriek from the blonde as she is swift enough to remove herself from the path of your wrath, leaping over the couch.

“You can’t kill me! I’m your only best friend!” Sabrina cries out defensively, putting more energy in her legs as you continue to chase after her, practically running around in the living room of your shared apartment.

“And you’re about to be a dead one!” You yell out after her, feeling short of breath while the exertion in your body reminds you of your poor stamina, but in a fit of rage, you are relentless, even as she manages to outrun you. “What in the world were you thinking?! A sugar daddy?!”

Now, Sabrina is standing across from where you are with the couch that serves as a barrier between her temporary safe haven and your raging wrath. She pants lightly to catch her breath as you do the same. “I was trying to help you!” She reveals earnestly, her tone laced with desperation and sincerity.

Help. The word itself revolts you, even after receiving help from her and her generous family throughout your teens. It triggers a switch in you that has you retaliating in defence to the familiar thoughts that have been a constant plague in the recesses of your mind, how pitifully impotent you are, especially considering your current situation.

Sabrina means well; she always has, despite her mischief and her wild streaks —  you know that much. But perhaps the repressive denial of your protracted predicament has finally caught up to you, as you now bitterly acknowledge how these past months were a bleak dwelling in the resentment and misery of your own failure despite the facade you put up in front of the others that seemed so impenetrable.

“How is finding a sugar daddy going to be any help to me?” You decide to pour the remnants of your rage by grabbing a pillow on the couch and aiming at the blonde-haired before repeating it again with the leftover pillows. “I’m not about to sell my body in exchange for money!”

“Not all sugar daddies are into it for sex!” Sabrina counters vehemently as she dodges your relentless attacks. “Some are actually decent— stop throwing pillows at me!”

Surprisingly, you come to a stop — more like because there are no pillows left to throw at her. “And how do you even know that?” You struggle to retain any decorum after the torrent of outbursts, your demeanour placid, but at least you don’t feel as murderous as you were earlier.

“Heard from a friend.” Sabrina replies tersely, eyeing you warily as you appear deceptively calm. Upon seeing that there are no traces of murderous intent in your countenance, she heaves a sigh, her blue eyes softening with a familiar sentiment. “Look, I genuinely want to help you because I know how much you’ve been struggling financially after what happened.”

You recognise the sentiment in her eyes — a catalyst that once ruptured the harmony in your dynamic with her, nearly severing your only true friendship — all because you had too much pride to accept her help in alleviating your burden by offering you money to pay off your tuition fees, and since your judgement was clouded by the torrent of emotions, you couldn’t help but feel insulted as she thought that you were completely helpless, especially since she knew that you were working as a part-time librarian at your university while still committing to the obligation as a full-time student.

You briefly look away from her gaze, your jaw locking with tension. Right. Money. In the end, it all comes down to the instability of finance — the primary cause of most problems and, sadly, a common hurdle that affects relationships and mental health, because the harsh reality is that money will always be consequential, especially considering the inflation in today’s capitalism.

Unfortunately for you, your current predicament is considered critical, and whether you like it or not, Sabrina is right. You have been struggling financially ever since you were dismissed from your employment at an illustrious cafe that required you an hour to commute from your place — well, technically, it’s your shared apartment with Sabrina, and it’s signed under her name, but she has been living with her boyfriend since graduation, rarely ever residing here now.

Hence, you decided to take responsibility for all the bills as a form of repayment for all the times she’s helped you throughout high school. Sabrina was sceptical at first as she was worried that you might feel pressured, but of course, you reassured her with confidence that you were more than capable of handling everything. Besides, you had always done everything on your own in those times without Sabrina and her family to witness the true constant battles you had to face. There were some things you needed to keep hidden from them, even if a part of you implored you to seek help from those within your reach.

You return your gaze to her after the prolonged silence and sigh deeply. “So you thought getting me a sugar daddy was the solution?” You ask wryly.

You know damn well what sugar daddies are and the purpose they serve to their clients, or rather, sugar babies. No matter how dire your financial situation is, as it’s been a month and a half since you got sacked by your employer, you could not imagine yourself earning money through an unvirtuous method. Even so, older men are really not your type.

“It’s the easy and fast way to earn money.” Sabrina attempts to entice you, to which you roll your eyes since you know that much. Still, you can’t deny the spark of temptation within you, and you blame your desperate need for money. “Besides, you’re a total hottie. Just one glance at any of your pics is enough to captivate their interest.”

“You flattering me does not excuse you from getting a beating— wait, what? My pics?” You splutter out your words, your eyes widening in disbelief, completely appalled at the idea of strangers, particularly old men, swiping through your pictures.

“Yeah, I uploaded some on your profile.” Sabrina beams with a smile, completely unfazed at your display of horror as you rush for the dining table to retrieve your phone. “It’s a requirement, anyway, for your potential sugar daddy to check you out.” She adds, agitating you further.

Your fingers move in frantic motion as you navigate your way on the damned app before finally finding your profile. Your eyes widen upon seeing the pics she uploaded. “Sab!” You exclaim in a whine.

“I know! I chose your best ones!” Sabrina gushes, looking smugly proud of her picks as though you are not currently shooting daggers at her with your eyes. “Sure, glare at me all you want. I just know you’ll thank me.”

You grumble your annoyance under your breath before begrudgingly diverting your attention to the phone screen. You tap on the notification icon and spot the username that has you scoffing lightly. Jay_Park, a basic username — not that yours is any better, but to be fair, your best friend was the one who created it for you.

You reluctantly proceed to check out the sugar daddy who had interest in you by tapping on his username while deliberately displaying your disinterest in your countenance to your best friend, only to be flabbergasted by the pictures he had uploaded; even his face in the miniature profile icon is striking enough to grab your attention at one glance.

“He’s hot.” You blurt out, your eyes never straying off his pictures. He is undeniably attractive despite most of his pics only displaying part of his face due to the angle he took, but you trust your judgement as you know that his broad body build screams total hotness, particularly his angular jawline that looks like it could cut your finger.

Not only is this user Jay_Park attractive, but every one of his pics gives off high sophistication, and none of his pics are as explicit as you had expected, like a hideous ripe dick pic of an old man or something. You have a strong feeling that he may be different from the sugar daddies you once perceived.

What was once barely a minuscule of interest has evolved into an unfamiliar keenness, and it’s pathetic to you, all because he’s possibly the most attractive man you have ever come across, and there is no way you would want to pass up this opportunity.

Sabrina shoots you an I-told-you-so look after studying the unconcealed fascination on your countenance. “See? I knew you'd be interested in him.”

Your eyes skim across every detail about him, his hobbies, and his interests until a certain piece of information has your lips turning down into a frown, feeling dubious. “But he’s way older than me.” 

In fact, he’s 12 years older than you. Though dating is not exactly your forté, you have never dated or had a fling with men older than you by three years. The last fling you had was with a guy who was two years older than you, an engineering major, who also turned out to be an inconsiderate jerk.

“Babe, he’s only thirty-four. The older he is, the more experienced and better he is in bed. On top of that, he’s a CEO!” Sabrina emphasises in a resolute tone, but you only cast her a numb look, eliciting exasperation from her. “Hello? A literal hot CEO sent you a request, which means he’s interested?”

You already knew that when you were reading up on his profile, which is why you are numb to the conflicting emotions within you. A part of you fears the possibility of being deceived by this man who may be a fraud because it’s too good to be true, but then if he’s indeed legit, then why would a CEO himself be interested in you? You don’t even feel like you could meet his standards.

But before you can speak your mind, your phone vibrates in your hand, drawing your attention, only to feel your heart pounding in your chest upon seeing the pop-up notification on the screen.

[Jay_Park sent you a message!]

“Shit.” You begin to panic, your emotions going haywire while your mind is devoid of any rationality, unable to even think coherently.

Sabrina eyes you weirdly with a confused frown. “What?”

“He sent me a message!” You tell her frantically, pacing back and forth, which has your best friend rolling her eyes at. “What do I do?! I’m not even prepared for this! And it’s all your fault!”

“It’s my fault, we get that! Just reply to him quickly, or he’ll lose interest!” Sabrina exclaims, a blend of excitement and frustration glittering in her blue eyes as she receives no response from you. She takes quick steps forward and places both hands on your shoulders, snapping you out of your mini spiral, her stern eyes drilling into yours. “Girl, calm down. Just text him back as normally as you can. Also, be cool with it and try not to come off as too desperate. Some sugar daddies get turned off by instant desperation. Don’t ask why.”

A shaky breath leaves your lips before you hesitantly nod your head, being coaxed by the confidence and determination in your best friend’s countenance. She takes a step back from you, allowing you to pace yourself as you look at your phone screen again.

Biting down your bottom lip, you nervously proceed to reciprocate his message, your hands trembling slightly as you hold your phone.

YOU: Hi!

You cringe visibly as soon as you hit the send button, uncertain whether or not your greeting came off as too eager, and you rarely ever use exclamation marks whenever you text unless you need to make a point or feel pissed. But you are taken by surprise when he replies to you quicker than your best friend does.

JAY: I have to be honest, doll. I’m not really sure how to go about from here. But I do hope you’re doing fine.

“He’s a fast texter.” You tell Sabrina, your tone indicating that you’re impressed by the bare minimum while your heart races at the nickname he called you. No guy has ever called you any nicknames other than babe.

YOU: Is this your first time being on this platform?

JAY: Embarrassingly, yes.

YOU: It’s okay. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s my first time too, so I have no idea what we’re supposed to do next.

“I knew that I had accepted the right one.” Sabrina remarks with an approving grin as she notices that your attention is fixated on your phone. She grabs her purse from the coffee table before ambling towards the main door. “Well, babe, I’ve done my part, so you’re on your own from here.”

“Huh?” You lift your head up, confusion fogging your vision briefly before you realise that she’s indeed leaving you as she slips on her wedge heels. “Sab! You can’t just leave me—“

“Toodles~ Let me know once you officially become his sugar baby!” Sabrina cuts you off in a ramble, quickly shooting you a pearly smile before she heads out in haste.

You scoff, your eyes still staring at the space that she once stood before, and you reluctantly force yourself to deal with what she started like an adult. You muster the courage to reply to the text that he sent two minutes ago.

JAY: Just for confirmation, does this mean that you’re interested in being my sugar baby?

You feel a bubble of giddiness in your chest just by the word ‘my’ alone. The idea of being his sugar baby wouldn’t be so bad, you think. He’s handsome, evidently wealthy, a fast texter, and the tone of his messages feels amiable.

YOU: I am, unless you have other options in mind to consider?

JAY: No other options to consider when you’re the only one who caught my interest.

YOU: I find that hard to believe. Surely, other sugar babies must’ve caught your eye before you found me.

JAY: None is my type.

YOU: Are you also implying that I’m your type?

JAY: What do you think?

YOU: I’m usually not anyone’s type unless they want me for a quick fuck.

You didn’t mean to be vulgar with your texts, especially when your sugar daddy is a sophisticated man who most likely rarely ever curses, but you wanted to be straightforward.

JAY: Are you also implying that I’m interested in you simply because I want to sleep with you?

YOU: Isn’t that what sugar daddies in general are interested in? They pamper their sugar babies with their wealth, and in return, sugar babies please them in bed.

JAY: Well, my interest differs from theirs.

YOU: I’m sorry if I sound rude, but why are you on this platform if your interest differs from theirs then?

JAY: To put it shortly, I’m looking for a partner that I can connect well with, romantically.

YOU: Shouldn’t you be on a dating site instead?

JAY: In fact, I have, multiple times actually. But it didn’t work out for me.

YOU: So you’re not actually looking for a sugar baby?

JAY: Not really, but after going through your profile, I changed my mind. I’m interested in pampering you with my wealth and attention. You don’t have to offer anything in return. The only thing I want from you is to be able to spend time with you.

YOU: Oh.

JAY: Did I upset you in any way? Or is there anything you’re not fine with?

YOU: No. It’s just that I’m still trying to process this because, honestly, it sounds too good to be true.

JAY: It’s fine. Take your time.

YOU: Also, can I completely be honest with you?

JAY: You sure can, doll.

YOU: I’m really glad that you’re not a creep, as in you didn’t straight up send dick pics or the fact that you’re not being passive-aggressive.

A part of you doesn't mind if he ever did send a picture of his dick, but you immediately brush off the thought, your cheeks flushing warmly.

JAY: I wouldn’t dare to make a gorgeous doll such as yourself uncomfortable. I also had a feeling that you weren’t into that kind of stuff.

Based on your experience, men usually find you cute or pretty, but to know that a very attractive online stranger, who you will regard as your sugar daddy, finds you gorgeous evokes a strange bubble of giddiness within you. 

YOU: Thank you for your consideration :) So, gorgeous doll?

JAY: Are you uncomfortable with the nickname?

YOU: I’m fine with it. Just didn’t expect you to find me gorgeous.

JAY: Of course, I do. I’m sure you look even more gorgeous in real life.

YOU: Such flattering words from a handsome man himself.

JAY: Look who is being a flatterer now.

YOU: Have you seen yourself? 

JAY: Don’t make this about me, doll.

YOU: I’m not. I’m just pointing out that you really do look handsome, even if those pics only showed half of your face. 

JAY: Nothing is more flattering than a darling doll such as yourself finding me handsome. 

You continue the conversation with him, your lips stretching into a wide smile while your eyes sparkle with an avid interest in your sugar daddy, albeit you exchange such flirtatious words with him that render you in wonderment, because you actually have no idea how to flirt without cringing at yourself, but with Jay, it just feels natural.

JAY: Anyway, I just want to let you know as well that we don’t have to do anything that you’re not comfortable with. 

YOU: Are you sure?

JAY: Yes. Your comfort matters to me. Besides, I can wait for you for as long as I need to.

Such salacious thoughts begin to fog in your head before you quickly expel those thoughts, inhaling sharply, but you know that you have now developed a desire for this man.

YOU: That’s so sweet of you. Thank you, Jay.

JAY: Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t properly spoiled you with anything. Speaking of, are you available tomorrow?

YOU: Yes. Why?

JAY: To meet you, of course.

YOU: Sure, tomorrow it is.

JAY: Great. I’ll pick you up at your place.

You continue to chat with him a little longer than you intended, including giving him your address and getting to know a little bit more about him. Eventually, you lose track of time, chatting with him avidly while feeling comfortable chatting with a stranger, as though he’s your long-lost friend instead of your sugar daddy.

JAY: I’m on my way to your place, doll. Can’t wait to see you :)

That was forty minutes ago, but you’ve been anxiously checking his message every so often, your nerves going erratic to the point where your empty stomach churns unpleasantly that you feel the urge to throw up. You have never felt this extremely nervous before, not even for your finals back in college.

You can still feel the weight of exhaustion in your eyelids that threaten to close, but the thought of Jay ringing your doorbell keeps you conscious. You couldn’t sleep well last night, tossing and turning on your bed, and you knew that it was either the excitement or the nervousness of finally meeting your sugar daddy that prevented you from getting a good night's sleep.

Plus, you had to get up four hours early to do some light chores in order to make your apartment look neat and to make yourself look as impeccable as your skin, which is devoid of any unnecessary hair since the dress that you’re currently wearing displays more skin than you intended. You didn’t put in much effort in your makeup, just the perfect volume to enhance your features.

You let out a quiet groan at the realisation of the effort you put in just for a man, an older man at that, which is also utterly ridiculous, because it’s as if you are keen on impressing your sugar daddy, and this is not even a date, or is it?

The doorbell chiming throughout the apartment startles you, prompting you to abandon the couch as you pad across the living room to get to the main door. You don’t bother to check through the peephole, your hand immediately latching on the door handle, albeit your nervousness remains unabating.

Before you can spiral further, your hand has a mind of its own, because the next thing you know, you are greeted by a very handsome man whose stature towers over your figure in an imposing manner, and he’s the very same man who happens to be your sugar daddy.

You can barely check him out when his dark eyes compel yours, your breath hitching in your throat at the sharp intensity in his dark irises that intimidates you, but in a good way that has your heart beating rapidly like you had just made eye contact with your crush. You take the opportunity of the awkward silence to trace every feature of his face with your keen eyes — how remarkably handsome he is with his chiselled forehead and jaw, his flawless nose that evokes envy within you, his dark eyebrows that look naturally refined, and his lips that are naturally pink. His jet-black hair is styled impeccably in a slick back, enhancing his striking face. Oh, he’s absolutely the most gorgeous man ever.

Little do you know that while you are in a state of intimidation due to his potent yet irresistible aura that feels overwhelming, Jay feels just the same, his tongue completely tied the moment you opened the door. It is as though he’s seeing an angel, rendering him starstruck. Those pictures of you that he spent almost the entire night admiring did not do you justice, because you look radiantly beautiful up close that even the constellations in the starry sky pale in comparison.

His eyes roam around you shamelessly, his throat feeling parched while his mind is storming with such dangerous thoughts he has been trying to keep them at bay. You look sweet yet alluring at the same time as you are adorned in a blue floral printed dress that reaches above your knees, revealing the perfect curves of your legs, and the subtle low cut displays your dainty neckline that is bare of any jewellery, to which he makes a mental note to buy you one. He fights off the strong urge to ogle at your defined cleavage and how noticeably succulent the curves of your upper mounds are.

When his eyes return to your face, you are already staring at him with a small smile. Your shyness nearly has his knees buckling underneath him. He simply can’t believe that you’re real. Oh, what a wonderful privilege to be able to see you up close.

“Hi.” Jay greets you breathlessly, but you are more surprised at how soft-spoken he is, such a contrast to his unyielding facade that intimidated you earlier.

“Hi.” You reciprocate softly, and it is enough to shoot a Cupid’s arrow to his beating heart. Your voice sounds velvety, a mellow that soothes him.

Jay takes another look at you, blinking his eyes as though you are unreal. “W-Wow. You look—“ He pauses, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallows a nervous lump in his throat. He softens with an awkward smile that completely charms you. “You look really beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You can’t believe how shy you are right now compared to the yapper you were last night when you texted him for nearly two hours. You take another look at him, feeling a strange flutter in your heart as you admire how he looks delectable in a button-down navy-coloured blouse that displays a teasing peek of his toned chest while his gold necklace complements his metal studs on his earlobes. “And you look really handsome.”

Jay is about to combust right here and now at your compliment that he has heard countless times from the ladies that pinned his attention back then, even more so when you beam at him with a slightly wider smile now. The weight in his hand immediately reminds him of what he intended to do after you opened the door before your breathtaking beauty distracted him.

“This is for you.” Jay extends his hand to you, prompting you to look down at a small bouquet of flowers in his grasp, but you can see the hesitation in the way his hand slowly retracts from you. “Unless you have allergies to flowers, which is totally fine. I can keep it—“

“I don’t have any, so don’t worry.” You reassure him, and without thinking twice, your hand quickly reaches out to accept his sweet gesture, only to feel a faint electricity when your fingers brush against his before you finally grab the bouquet from him. Your heart swells with something unfamiliar as you look at the flowers before meeting his kind gaze. “Thank you for these. It’s the first that someone has ever given me flowers on a first meeting.”

You almost wanted to utter the word ‘date’ because this is certainly not a date but more like a formal meeting with your sugar daddy as part of the first transaction. You mentally berate yourself for hoping for something that you were initially against and the fact that you only intend to regard him as your sugar daddy.

Jay’s bashful shell cracks when he adorns a smirk on his handsome face that has you swooning on the inside. “You can call me old-fashioned.”

“I love old-fashioned.” You decide to play along as you notice the spark of mischief in his eyes, but really, you do love yourself some old-fashioned.

“Are you ready to go?” Jay asks coolly, hoping that he doesn’t sound too eager as to how impatiently desperate he really is to spend the day with you.

“Yes. Just give me a sec.” You tell him while making your way to the shoe compartment, where you also place the bouquet on the counter, before grabbing your ankle-strapped heels.

As you return to him, you busily place your feet onto the heels before attempting to secure the strap around your ankles, only to be surprised when Jay gets down on one knee in front of you, rendering you flabbergasted. “Please. Allow me.” He insists without looking up at you, putting his hands into the task.

“It’s okay. I can do it myself—“ But your protest goes unheard as he secures the straps for you with such gentleness that it sends the weird flutter to your heart again, while the way his fingers brush against your skin feels electrifying.

Your eyes never leave him even after he’s done, his figure towering over yours again despite the heels that elevate your height. “Shall we?” Jay asks with a smile, to which you nod your head at before stepping outside of the threshold and locking the door.

The two of you proceed to make your way to the elevator, silence wrapping around you once more, but only less awkwardly. You chew your bottom lip out of habit, wanting to say something to dispel this awkwardness, but the heat of his body close next to you sends your head into a frenzy.

“Do you live alone?” Jay breaks the ice, and you silently thank him because you were slowly going insane. As soon as he presses the button, the elevator chimes open, and he gestures to you to enter first before he follows suit.

“Sort of.” You answer unsurely, earning a look of intrigue from him. You decide to explain shortly. “I live with my best friend, but ever since she got into a relationship, she’s rarely ever at our shared apartment, not that I minded. She can be quite a headache.”

His lips twitch into a smile, almost as if he’s fond of something. “My best friend’s the same too.” He chuckles lightly, but they sound heavenly in your ears. “What about family? Any siblings?”

“And here I thought it was my turn to ask you a question.” You say cheekily, your lips stretching a little wider as you feel inclined to be frivolous towards him after the lingering awkwardness dissipates into thin air.

His eyes narrow at you in a playful suspicion, followed by a broad smirk on his lips. “You’re a cheeky doll, aren’t you?”

“It’s only fair that I ask you a question after you asked me one.” You say in an airily manner, ignoring how his handsome smirk has your mind in a frenzy once more. “But to answer your question, I’m an only child. My parents are divorced, so I’m kinda my own now. Always have.”

Being an inherent observant that comes with an ability to heed the tone of voice, even the subtlest intonation, Jay recognises the underlying resentment in the neutrality of your voice and how he catches a fleeting sentiment he knows all too well in your eye, but the radiant smile on your face immediately overshadows any traces of somberness, albeit he is quick to grasp that family must be a sensitive topic for you.

“It seems that we have a lot more in common than I thought. I’m an only child too.” Jay says lightly in an attempt to dispel any sour feelings within you. He opens his mouth to say something, but the elevator chimes open, revealing the view of the basement parking lot. He allows you to step out first before he follows suit, guiding you to his vehicle. “So what’s the next question you have for me?”

“What made you become interested in me? You could’ve chosen other sugar babies.” You ask with genuine curiosity. The question has been lingering in the back of your mind all night. As he looks at you with an eyebrow raised, you try to search for something in his eyes, any falsehood or that he’s actually a bad guy with ill intentions, but all you see is the pure kindness that reflects the window of his soul.

“I just had a good feeling about you.” He answers with utmost sincerity, his eyes softening before giving you his signature smirk. “Besides, there was no way I would ever pass up a woman as gorgeous as you.”

A part of you feels so tempted to wipe away that handsome smirk off his face with a kiss, but you immediately ward off any inappropriate thought, diverting your attention to the sleek black Mercedes-Benz, his car.

Jay, being the gentleman he is, opens the passenger door for you, to which you shyly thank him before you carefully settle inside. Not too long later, Jay is right next to you, operating the functions of the vehicle that is wheeling towards where the main road is at.

The silence is accompanied by the music emanating from the radio, but it still isn’t enough to allay the newfound tension settling in your bones. You even distract yourself by discreetly examining the impeccable condition of the car that comes with a pleasant lavender smell before you notice the small bottle of fragrance diffuser that hangs in the air from behind the rearview mirror.

Something different flutters within you; how oddly intensifying it is, but one thing is for sure — you find Jay more dangerously attractive than the first time you felt.

You cave into the temptation to take a glance at him, only to nearly gawk at his strong yet flawless side profile, how his angular jawline looks defined up close. His countenance displays such cool impassivity, exuding an air of confidence compared to your meekness. Your eyes fall to his veiny hands before they travel lower; his sleeves had been pulled to his elbows, allowing the sultry veins that protrude in his arms and revealing a golden Rolex that latched around his wrist. You quickly look away, feeling the gradual heat building up in your body.

You swear that older men are not your type, but Jay may be the first to change that.

“Are you okay?” Jay asks, his soft voice startling you. The way he’s hot, a gentleman, a stickler for cleanliness, and soft-spoken? You must have done something incredibly honourable in your past life.

“Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, daring yourself to look at him as he briefly takes a glance at you before refocusing on the road. Though you still feel diffident, something about him compels you to confide your worries in him. “I just don’t want to mess things up on our first meeting.”

Jay cracks into a humorous smile. “Funny, because I had the same thought earlier.” Oh, he really did, worrying incessantly all morning that he might fuck things up by coming off too desperate for your attention on the first meet.

“Is this a date?” You accidentally blurt out the question you intended to expel, but a part of you is genuinely keen that this is actually a date and not just a formal transactional meeting between a sugar daddy and his sugar baby.

As the traffic light turns red, the car comes to a stop. Jay directs his full attention to you, a gentle smile touching his lips. “You can call it whatever you want, doll.”

You hold his gaze for a little longer, unable to fathom the inscrutable emotions behind the window of his eyes despite the unwavering kindness. You find yourself lifting a smile that mirrors his. “A date it is.”

Jay decides your first destination to be a fine dining restaurant in which he had booked a reservation in advance. Though your empty stomach rumbles lightly in approval, you can’t deny how out of place you are at an upscale restaurant, most especially to be in the presence of upper-class patrons, albeit Jay personally requested a more secluded booth since he values privacy.

Silence settles on your booth, not that you are bothered by it as you are too occupied in marvelling at the sophisticated decors that emphasise their opulence. The ambience feels exquisitely serene with the undercurrent of varying conversations from the other patrons indistinctly in the background, but they seem to tune out completely when your eyes are drawn back to the man seated across from you.

The pendant lights above your booth cast a gentle glow that creates a beautiful halo around his handsome face that is poised with concentration as he reads through the menu while you feel the familiar flutter in your tummy again. Everything about him is so charming, and you don’t think that you could ever get tired of seeing him every day. 

When his eyes flicker to you, you immediately look down at the menu in front of you on the table, feigning keen interest as you force yourself to read the names and descriptions of their dishes. You hope he didn’t notice that you had been gazing at him, but your ears perk up at the breathy titter that leaves his lips, causing your face to flush warmly in embarrassment.

“Anything on the menu that interests you?” Jay asks, amusement colouring his tone momentarily before it is replaced by the familiar neutrality of tenderness.

“I’m not sure.” You mutter, your attention now being fixated on the list of dishes, particularly the prices that perturb you, because how can a mere salad cost more than your favourite sandwich at your go-to coffee shop?

Though the bill will undoubtedly be handled by your sugar daddy, you feel highly conscious to choose even just a salad because of how pricey everything on the menu is. You flicker your eyes to him, allowing him to grasp your dubiety. “These look exquisite, but the prices—“

“Have you forgotten who you’re with, doll?” Jay intercepts gently, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on smug, but the assurance in his kind eyes dispels any doubts from your mind. “Don’t worry about the prices. Just order anything you want.”

Your eyes run through the menu again, but you can’t decide on which, eliciting a sigh from you before you look at him apologetically. “I don’t really know what to order.”

“That’s alright, doll.” Jay reassures you with a warm smile before he raises his hand slightly to call one of the waiters over. You watch the interaction between Jay and the waiter, displaying practiced professionalism in his manner as though he had done this many times. “We’d like to have the full course meals alongside your finest wine.”

Your eyes widen at his order. You wait until the waiter collects your menus and leaves your booth. “Isn’t that too much?” You ask Jay unsurely, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“Nothing is ever too much.” Jay insists casually while his eyes greedily drink in your pristine beauty under the soft luminescence before they fall to your lustrous, glossed lips that look kissable. He clears his throat, warding off any sensual thoughts of how your lips would feel on his. “Besides, you did indicate in your profile that you’re a foodie.”

You stifle a groan, mentally cursing your best friend for adding unnecessary information about yourself, but then again, she’s not wrong. You are indeed a foodie, a connoisseur of food, according to Sabrina, but it doesn’t mean that you’re skilled at cooking. She even forbade you from touching any kitchen appliances as she was worried about the possibility of you blowing up the apartment, to which you rolled your eyes at her exaggeration.

“Right, how could I forget?” You cast him a sheepish smile before deciding to focus more on him now, your body slanting forward that displays your interest with your elbows resting on the table. “So, a CEO, huh? Must’ve been tough with all the heavy responsibilities that come with being a CEO.”

Though you lack the knowledge of what a CEO’s responsibilities exactly entail, you know enough that the fate of his company rests on his palm, and since you’re at it, you decide to make a mental note to do thorough research about him and his company during your spare time.

“It isn’t so bad. Guess I got accustomed to the work and its volatility.” Jay says coolly, exuding an air of confidence that awes you as you look at him with a newfound reverence. “But my employees are competent and trustworthy, so the company operates smoothly most of the time.”

Jay proceeds to divulge more about his work life, mostly the lighter stuff that gauges your understanding, and you notice how he talks about his employees with high regard, earning a small smile from you as you conclude that he’s not the stereotypical callous CEO that you used to read about in those fiction books.

During mid-conversation, the first courses of your meals arrive, served by the same waiter. The two of you decide to indulge your neglected hungers with a comfortable silence wrapping around you. The silence stretches on even when the second course of your meal arrives, but Jay intermittently checks on you, asking if the food is to your liking or if you need anything else that has your heart fluttering again at how attentive he is to you.

The prior conversation continues when the desserts are served that eventually appease your sweet cravings as the delightful saccharine touches your tongue. He tells you more about himself, particularly his general background, but you notice how he avoids mentioning his family.

“No way!” You gasp in surprise after what he had just revealed, your eyes sparkling with excitement while you feel an odd sense of adrenaline rush; probably the sugar that now invades your system. “You went to the same university as me?”

“Sure did, doll. I have the degree cert to prove it if you don’t believe me.” Jay grins, displaying his perfect teeth while you are distracted by the dimples in his cheeks, melting you on the inside. “I was a business major.”

“I majored in journalism.” You tell him. You know that the world is small, but you didn’t expect it to be that small. Maybe you are being delusional, but maybe the invisible string theory turns out to be true after all. Oh, how this intensifies the strange feelings that perturb your heart as each flutter brushes against it.

“That’s cool. Way better than business.” Jay says with a genuine smile, his eyes sparkling with interest.

You scoff lightly. “I doubt that. I mean, look at where it got you now.” You point out, ignoring the familiar bitterness of the searing truth, that while the people around you are succeeding in life, you are the only one who is falling significantly behind.

“It certainly wasn’t an easy journey because I started out with nothing, not even the support from my parents.” Jay finds himself unravelling the part that he intended to keep hidden, but seeing how evidently a good listener you are, he feels like he can trust someone else other than his best friend to listen to him in a way he wants. “Thankfully, my best friend was there to give me the support I needed, even if he’s a pain in my ass.”

“You don’t have a good relationship with your parents either?” You ask gently without realising that you have given away a hint that confirms his prior suspicions about the reason why the family topic is sensitive to you, not that he fares well with it either, but the burning resentment he harboured for years has now dulled, probably because he has long since come to an acceptance, thanks to the years of detachment from his parents.

“It’s hard to say. I’m still in contact with them, but only when it’s strictly necessary. Truthfully, they’re not exactly the ideal parents for me.” Jay divulges with a thoughtful hum as the memories slowly resurface in his mind, but the pain and resentment that he expected are absent, only a faint bitterness. “My father wanted me to oversee one of his established companies abroad while my mother wanted to marry me off to her business partner’s daughter when I was still a senior in college. But since I didn't want any of those, they threatened to disown me, so I decided to go about being on my own, even when I had nothing at the beginning.”

You feel a burning resentment within you on behalf of him, your face contorting into a displeased frown. You have no idea what sort of hurdles he had to conquer, but you know for a fact that no one deserves to go through it all alone without the support of family, even if the support is only emotional. Though you know that by his demeanour alone he must have made peace with this, the compassion in you towards his backstory hurts your heart.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You utter softly, your outstretched hand on the table itching to hold his hand to offer him some form of comfort. “You deserve to have parents who fully support you in anything you do.”

“I can say the same to you too, doll.” Jay says with a small yet knowing smile. He slants his body forward. “So, want to tell me more about yourself?”

You don’t really intend to, but you can’t seem to deny him, especially when his kind yet handsome gaze is simply irresistible. You know that he’s genuinely interested, but you fear that his perspective of you might change for the worse, which would lead to him discarding you aside and choosing another sugar baby, albeit you know damn well that most sugar babies had gone through financial tribulations that became the very reason they sought out those dependable older men. Still, you muster the courage, your lips quivering as you begin to speak.

“Nothing much. I’m just a broke alumna who graduated six months ago and who is also unfortunately unable to land a job related to my degree despite graduating with honours and the countless interviews I’ve gone through.” You unravel with practiced casualness, your demeanour betraying none of the turbulence of emotions within you, but then comes the dreadful realisation that rattles your composure as you look away from him. “God, I shouldn’t have said too much.” You mutter under your breath, but he catches onto your words quickly.

“No, honey, don’t be embarrassed with me.” Jay has no idea where the courage comes from, but his hand instinctively reaches out for your outstretched one across the table, holding it tenderly. “I promise you that there’s no judgement when you’re with me. I genuinely want to know more about you, be it your struggles or your hobbies.”

You search for any falsehood in his beautiful eyes, only to find nothing but stark sincerity that forms an emotional lump in your throat, feeling touched that this man, whom you’ve just met hours ago, is willing to genuinely listen to you, and he’s only supposed to be your sugar daddy, not a therapist whom you’re supposed to dump every trauma and problem on, but in this moment, his presence feels comforting in a way that a part of you has deeply yearned for.

“Like I said, there’s nothing interesting about me other than being the unsuccessful independent daughter who got sacked from her barista job.” This time, you don’t bother sugarcoating your words, and you feel less guarded as you continue while he holds your gaze firmly, as though he is silently assuring you that he’s listening with an open mind. “Not to forget that I’m way behind paying my bills. It’s my fault, anyway, since I told Sabrina that she could trust me in paying the utility bills and the rent. How foolish of me.”

Sabrina. That must be your best friend’s name. “Was that why you decided to sign up for this arrangement?” He asks gently, treading with his words carefully while his thumb brushes across your knuckles in delicate strokes, a gesture that sends little flutters to your heart.

“It's pathetic and desperate of me, I know. I should’ve at least tried securing a temporary job first before deciding to pursue this arrangement.” You mutter shamefully, your eyes crestfallen before a huff leaves your lips. “But to be fair, my best friend was the reason why I’m right here with you. She registered me on that app without my consent.”

“It’s not pathetic, honey, and I’m sure you’ve tried enough.” Jay reassures you while he silently thanks your best friend. He stops stroking your knuckles with his thumb and holds your hand firmly instead to draw your attention to his eyes that display emotions you can’t seem to decipher. “But do you regret it? Regret this?”

You haven’t exactly thought of that since most of the time, you were occupied with the annoying flutters in you as well as swooning over him. This time, you hold his hand, a faint smile touching your lips. “You haven’t shown me why I should regret it.” 

“I promise you that you won’t regret this. You won’t regret me.” Jay vows with conviction, his eyes hardening with resoluteness that oddly subdues any lingering doubts in your head. He brings your hand to his lips before kissing your knuckle tenderly, his lips warm and soft. “I’ll take good care of you and treat you as you deserve.”

“I don’t deserve anything.” You manage to utter despite the butterflies in your tummy, but they dwindle as your insecurities resurface, prompting you to avoid his gaze as you continue to unravel without faltering in the way you speak. “It’s obvious that I’m a failure. I used to be an overachiever and excel throughout my academic years, but looking at my situation now, it proves that I’m nothing without academics.”

“That isn’t true, honey.” Jay counters with a frown, hating how you’re disparaging yourself. “It’s normal to feel lost, having no idea what you truly want to do after graduating from university. You’re not alone on this, so don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s only been six months since your graduation, right? Give yourself some time.”

You look at him with a silver display of exasperation. “For how long should I give myself some time? I just—” You hold your tongue just when you feel the tremor in your throat before forcing your voice to remain steady. “I just don’t want to feel helpless and useless all the time. I’m tired of feeling guilty about being unemployed. It brings me shame, especially when my ex-peers are thriving in their stable careers and their lives.” You say bitterly. “I feel like I’m stuck in this loop where nothing is ever going to work out for me no matter how many times I try.”

“Not everyone’s journey is going to be the same, just like how everyone’s pace in life is different.” Jay feels inclined to give you words of wisdom, needing to uplift your disheartened spirit despite your collected demeanour. “Just because you’re unemployed doesn’t mean that you’re a failure. Life is not all about work, you know?”

You can’t help the scoff escaping your lips, smiling wryly. “Says the guy who has been working hard for years to get to where he is now.” 

Jay chuckles at the irony, the sound rich and pleasant in your ears. “Fair enough, honey. But the point I’m trying to make is that you don’t have to constantly pressure yourself about getting employed. There is more to life than just work, and you’re still young to stress yourself out about this.”

“Well, the bills aren’t about to be paid by themselves and the current inflation in today’s capitalism is definitely wonderful.” You point out the obvious, sarcasm lacing your tone. 

Jay dismisses your remark. “And you mentioned that you were working as a barista, right?” He asks for confirmation, and you nod your head, earning a small smile from him. “That’s an accomplishment too, because you put in efforts to make a living, so you shouldn’t belittle yourself.”

“But I got sacked.” You tell him dejectedly, only to feel his hand squeezing yours comfortingly.

“It’s not your fault that the management was shitty.” Jay says so vehemently. “Besides, it’s their loss for losing a meticulously dedicated employee like you.”

“How would you know that?” You frown, your lips naturally jutting into a pout that captures his attention briefly before his eyes return to yours. “For all you know, I could be the type of employee that often slacks during her shift.”

“I can easily tell just by your personality alone. Plus, my judgement is never wrong.” He smirks, and oddly, you feel assured by him. His eyes roam around your face before they soften. “Don’t be too hard on yourself anymore, honey. You have me to depend on now. Allow me to ease some of your burdens.”

“That’s the thing. I’m not used to depending on anyone.” You find it strange how you easily divulge the hardest yet obstinate part of yourself that you refuse to let anyone know, including your best friend. Heck, even a small part of you is still debating whether or not to cancel this transactional relationship that barely begins.

“Like I said, I’ll take good care of you, so don’t worry too much.” Jay reaffirms, his tone being a constant gentleness yet firm enough for you to note that he genuinely means every word he says. “Just let me spend my money and time on you like you deserve, doll.”

Your breath hitches when he brings your hand to his lips, but this time, kissing your palm tenderly while his kind eyes never leave yours. “I’m sorry for dumping almost everything on you on our first date. I never intended to make things depressing.” You say sorrowfully, your eyes crestfallen.

“Don’t apologise. Something told me that you needed someone to listen to you.” He presses his lips into your palm again, and you can feel his smile. “And I’m glad to be that someone.”

“I did.” You tell him honestly, feeling a weight on your shoulders being lifted while appreciation gleams in your eyes. “Thank you, Jay.”

“Don’t thank me yet, doll. Our date is far from over.”

And Jay proves you right, because after giving the waiter who served you earlier a big tip as well as paying the bill, he drives you to the high-end shopping mall, which is a twenty-minute drive, and where you eventually discover that it has tonnes of flagship stores of luxury brands.

You don’t even have a say when Jay drags you over to a store, to which you are familiar with the brand since you have always wanted to own a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace, but it costs more than your salary as a barista. Of course, you have expected that Jay surely intended to spend his money on you, as any sugar daddy would, but still, you are very much surprised by how he easily whips out his black card to pay for your jewellery that he personally picked for you — a vintage Alhambra pendant necklace and bracelet.

Just when you think Jay is done, he guides you to another designer brand store, his hand clasping yours, bringing warmth to you. You genuinely have no say in anything, as he seems very determined to get you anything, no matter the price. Though you feel incredibly grateful to him, you begin to feel the exhaustion of just trying on and changing to different designer clothes for the past thirty minutes while he often does an examination on you before either approving or disapproving the designers you wear.

You look at your reflection in the mirror as you are adorned in, hopefully, the last dress that he picked for you earlier. You calm your nerves as you step out of the fitting room because you can't actually handle the way his dark eyes roam around your figure with such intensity for much longer.

“Is this okay?” You ask awkwardly, standing in his view while he is quick to put away his phone, only for him to almost choke on his saliva at your stunning visual, how the dress accentuates your contours impeccably. You frown, noticing how flustered he looks compared to how he was earlier. “Jay?”

Instead of responding to you, Jay shifts his eyes to the staff that has been assisting the two of you. “I need another dress that is similar to this one and get it packed along with the other dresses.”

You splutter in disbelief, attempting to protest that there are already more than enough clothes he picked, but Jay intercepts as he insistently guides you back into the fitting room with both hands on your bare shoulders, his warmth triggering the heat that builds up within you.

You have no idea if it is a norm for sugar daddies to pamper their sugar babies with the interests and hobbies that have been indicated on their profiles, but Jay sure is committed to yours, because the next thing you know, he has brought you to the famous book store that is a ten-minute drive from the mall you were previously at, and possibly the biggest one you have ever stepped foot into.

No complaints from you, though, because the moment you are surrounded by towering multi-tiered shelves, the book lover inside of you is elated. You don’t own many books since you already have the Kindle device, as it is convenient for you to browse, purchase, and read the ebooks of your liking. Ebooks are generally cheaper than physical books anyway.

So you take this opportunity to search for the next book that is connected to your favourite series since the author made the announcement on Instagram that book two has been published in printed copies. You hope that this book store has them.

“You really do like reading.” Jay lets out a breathy chuckle, feeling amused by your apparent enthusiasm as your eyes are practically sparkling while you seem to be searching for a particular book across the shelves.

“I love reading, specifically romance novels.” You correct him, your keen eyes never leaving the middle row until you spot the familiar book cover, eliciting an excited gasp from you. “No way! It’s here!”

Jay smirks, finding you adorable because you look like you have just won a lottery, and it deeply pleases him to see the radiance in your countenance, devoid of any worries or doubts. From the corner of his eye, he spots a stack of empty baskets at the side and decides to grab one before giving it to you. “Here.”

You blink your eyes at him, your eyebrows slowly furrowing. “But I only need one book, which is this.” 

But Jay is insistent, a trait that you have yet to get accustomed to. His eyes are firm with resolution, but there is a hint of softness. “Get yourselves some more, doll.” 

Since Jay obviously wouldn’t tolerate your refusal any further, you grab the basket from him before venturing aisle after aisle while he trails behind you silently, not that you mind. You also find yourself babbling to him about the books that capture your interest and the ones that you are familiar with while he listens attentively and gives his input whenever appropriate.

“I kind of had a feeling that you’d be into romance novels.” Jay points out his observation after taking note of every synopsis of the book that you babbled to him and noticing a specific element that relates to his current predicament.

“Not my fault I’m a hopeless romantic.” You shrug your shoulders, missing the way he gazes at you with a peculiar longing as you eye down the books of your choosing in the basket that feels a little weighty in your grasp. “Plus, I love reading about love, even if that kind of love only exists in fiction.”

“I can make the love you want happen.” Jay accidentally blurts out what has been on his mind but realises that it’s a mistake as you tense up before looking at him with wide eyes. Shit, he fucked up.

You blink your eyes at him, feeling taken aback by what you have just heard. “Pardon?” 

“Uh, I mean, we could recreate any romantic scene in one of your favourite books if you want?” His rambles only make things worse for him, and for the first time, he looks completely flustered with his cheeks a faint hue of pink as he avoids your gaze. Before you can say anything, he grabs the basket from you in haste. “Forget anything I said.”

You are rendered speechless as you remain unmoving, your eyes never straying from his handsome figure while he makes his way to the checkout counter. Even from the back view, you can tell that he is still flustered. Your heart flutters again, and you can’t count how many times you have felt this odd sensation. But one thing you are certain of is that Jay being bashful is now your favourite sight to see.

After another round trip of shopping and desserts, Jay decides to send you back to the apartment since the time nearly strikes ten and the way you countenance seems a tad weary. He even insists on helping to carry every shopping bag into your apartment, but you refuse to let him do all the work, and since you are so obstinate, he allows you to carry the lighter bags.

“Your place looks homey, and it’s so you.” Jay remarks as he takes in his surroundings after placing the shopping bags on the coffee table, feeling an odd sense of tranquillity, the overall decor a polar opposite to his minimalist place. He meets your shy gaze and casts you a handsome smile that makes his dimples prominent on his cheeks. “I like it.”

“Since Sab now practically lives at her boyfriend’s, I thought that I should decorate the place to my liking.” You say with a sheepish smile before softening with a gratitude delicacy draping over your demeanour. “Thank you for buying me all of these. You didn’t have to, especially since we only met today.”

“Spoiling you is now part of my job, doll.” Jay drawls playfully, smirking when he sees you reciprocate with a playful eye roll.

“I mean it when I say I really appreciate your kindness and sweet gestures. Thank you, Jay.” You have no idea what overcomes the diffidence, but with one step towards him, you lean forward, tiptoeing just slightly to press your lips into his cheek and giving him a kiss of your gratitude, but your head spins as his strong cologne infiltrates your senses once more. He even smells as good as he looks.

Your lips linger on the soft texture of his skin before you pull away and look at him, only to feel your cheeks burning at the intensity of his gaze, leaving you to wonder if what you did pleased him or not. “So, I guess this is it.” You smile awkwardly.

“Don’t look so disappointed now, doll. You’re stuck with me, so you’ll be seeing my face more often.” Jay says, his tone holding a promise. “I’ll let you know our dates in advance, and I’ll surely fit you into my schedules.”

You give him a smile of assurance. “It’s okay. I know you’re a busy man, so you don’t have to do all that—” Your heartbeat goes erratic when he takes a step forward, closing the distance between your bodies. 

His dark eyes are devoid of the familiar softness, only an unfamiliar intensity that seems to take your breath away. “You can’t stop a man from what he wants, doll.” His voice is low, a palpable husk of something igniting a different type of heat within you.

“And what do you want?” You ask breathlessly, holding his strong gaze that continues to melt you on the inside. Your eyes fall to his lips, and you feel tempted to close the gap just to feel what the texture of his lips feels like. Are they as soft as they look?

The tension is short-lived when Jay leans down and presses his lips into your cheek, but dangerously close to the corner of your lips that intensifies the flutters in your heart, giving you a chaste kiss that now burns in your memory. He slowly pulls away and casts you a small smile. “Have a good night's rest, honey. I’ll see you soon.”

As soon as Jay steps out of your apartment, you finally give in to your buckling knees, holding onto the armrest of the couch for support while you allow your mind to spiral into a different type of chaos. If you weren’t so exhausted, you would already scream from what just happened.

You’ve been kissed before, particularly on the lips, but no kiss has ever affected you this much, and it’s only a damn kiss on the cheek from your sugar daddy.

Just when you recover from freaking out over the smallest thing, your phone chimes loudly in your purse. You take it out to check, and you nearly experience a heart attack when you read the familiar notification of your digibank and another from Jay. The amount is significantly higher than your previous salary, and no doubt it will sustain you more than enough for a month.

[ A payment of $3000 has been transferred to your account ]

JAY: Hope you received the transfer, doll. You deserve it.

Days eventually blend into weeks ever since the transactional relationship with your sugar daddy has been established, and everything has been going smoothly, including the fact that you managed to pay off your monthly utility bills and the rent that were haunting you.

Initially, you felt conflicted about this arrangement, how the fundamental core of your independence remained obstinate in going against accepting any form of help, but somehow, he easily managed to erode the fire within you with his benevolence and compassion that didn’t feel overbearing.

So in a way, you submitted to him, essentially peeling off a layer of your vulnerability. He also earned your trust that you now seek solace in him despite him being your sugar daddy, but that’s the thing. You know that you only regard him as your sugar daddy, so why do you feel as though the two of you are genuine friends with benefits instead, except that there is no actual explicit exchange?

It is truly confounding to you because the fleeting spark of desire in those lustrous brown eyes of his is not lost on you whenever he gazes at you, particularly the times when the apparel displays your contours or excessive skin, but he remains steadily courteous, which feels peculiar to you since men like him obviously have needs, especially older men, according to your best friend. Honestly, a part of you wouldn’t even mind if he wanted to go beyond this friendliness, considering that it has been so long since you had sex.

Still, you have no complaints about this as you feel content with your current dynamic with him that you often forget that he’s your actual sugar daddy, and for the first time compared to your past experiences with men, everything he does and the words he speaks feel genuine with no perverse intent — how he has never asked for any inappropriate pics from you or told you crude remarks, how he never crosses boundaries except holding hands and sweet cheek kisses, how he validates your feelings, and most especially how he actually pays attention to you and listens to you.

Perhaps it’s the very reason why you instantly thought of Jay when you were being summoned by the inevitable once-in-a-blue dinner with your mother and her family during the phone call, but it felt more like your mother emphatically demanded your attendance since you purposely missed the last dinner.

Hence, Jay is currently driving you to the dreadful destination that has been ruffling your peace of mind while you struggle to maintain your perfect composure, hoping that he wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary about you other than the unusual yet stark silence from you.

But little do you know that Jay has noticed your discomposure in the way he recognises your habits whenever something rattles you — how your twitchy fingers often fiddle together, your eyes refusing to meet his, your bottom lip tucking in between your teeth every so often, and your eyebrows softly knitting together. It upsets him how you are clearly in distress despite your poised demeanour, and he wants nothing more than to relieve you.

“I’m sorry for asking you to come with me. You probably had other matters to attend to.” You break the ice, your delicate yet apologetic tone eliciting a disapproving frown from him. He takes his eyes off the road briefly to look at you, and he nearly feels tempted to change the destination at the look in your pretty yet frail eyes, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t need you and your support, especially since my mom is expecting you.”

Jay would feel honoured that one of your parents wanted to meet him since, according to you, you told your mother that he’s your boyfriend instead of a sugar daddy, which was more than understandable, if it weren’t for the fact that you obviously don’t seem the slightest bit happy to see her. He already develops a distaste for your mother. He has a strong inkling that you often receive mistreatment from her.

“If you apologise another time, I might have to do something to your lips.” He playfully warns, his remark eliciting a familiar flutter within you at the possible implication, but you continue to look at him apologetically. “Please, doll, if anything, I’m more flattered that you need my support and the fact that I’ll be your fake boyfriend.” Though the words ‘fake boyfriend’ leave his lips so easily, they definitely leave a bitter taste on his tongue.

You briefly divert your attention to the road ahead, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers that tempt him to hold your hand. “My mother, she can be quite overbearing, always nitpicking and criticising everything I do.” You say dryly, deciding to preface a little of what he can most likely expect later. “Plus, it’s been a year since I last saw her.”

Jay raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “A year?” 

“We don’t really have a good relationship.” You explain shortly, trying your best not to sound so brusque as you speak to him, but just the thought of your mother simply triggers you deeply. “Between my mother and father, I prefer my father’s company to hers even though he’s more absent compared to her. He has never cared much about me. They both don’t.”

This time, Jay doesn’t bother holding back as he reaches for your hand while the other remains controlling the steering wheel. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ll be right next to you throughout the dinner. Anything your mother may say will do nothing to change my feelings for you.” He reassures you softly, his thumb stroking the back of your hand gently.

You instantly feel at ease just by his familiar touch. You give him your gratitude with a smile as you squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Jay.”

“I’d prefer you to call me honey or baby.” He briefly glances at you with an effortless smirk, sending the flutters to your tummy. “You know, to convince your mother that I’m your actual boyfriend instead of your sugar daddy.”

Your smile falters slightly at the reminder. “Right. She would probably beat my ass if she knew the truth.”

He places a quick kiss on the back of your hand. “I’ll protect your ass, doll. Besides, your pretty ass is mine.” 

Warmth weaves in your every vein while your cheeks go aflame at how casual those words left his lips. “Jay.” You attempt to chide him but fail miserably when he shoots you another smirk before giving a kiss on your palm.

Comfortable silence accompanies you throughout the rest of your ride, and not once did he ever let go of your hand, intermittently stroking the back of your hand with his thumb while you feel the incessant flutters at how he’s holding your hand with such reverence despite the firmness.

When Jay finally pulls up at the familiar driveway, your mood instantly sours, but with him by your side, you feel a little confident, knowing that you can get past this. You just have to endure the impending charade and tolerate whatever bullshit your mother and her family decide to provoke you with, but you definitely did not expect the type of bullshit where your stepsisters are quick to wear familiar masks that display their attraction towards your sugar daddy the moment you walk past the threshold. 

“Y/N.” Your mother comes into view, and for the first time, you feel grateful to her as your stepsisters’ tactics in vying for Jay’s attention have come to a stop.

“Mother.” You greet her in return, albeit tightly, as the familiar tension begins to brew in the air that even Jay can sense.

Jay quickly scans your mother, taking note of the familiarity of her elegance and sophistication in the way she dresses and the ambiance she exudes, reminding him of the elite ladies he had come across throughout his experiences in the business industry. Still, he finds her unimpressive, especially in the way her steely eyes are staring down at you with faint disdain.

Your mother shifts her gaze to him, seeming to be assessing him. “And I presume you are the boyfriend?” Her tone is as sharp as a knife, while the smile gracing her lips looks deceptive.

“Yes, he is.” You step in to speak even before he could introduce himself out of courtesy despite his distaste towards your mother. He notices the undertone of protectiveness in your demeanour, to which he suppresses a smile.

Your mother scans him for another time. “Dinner is not ready yet, but you can make yourself at home.” She says kindly to him while he hides the frown behind his mask at how she seems to be deliberately ignoring you.

Your mother pivots on her heels at the same time you drag him by the hand as you make your way towards the living room, but of course, your stepsisters continue their tactics until you cast them a withering glare, nearly wanting to wrestle each of them for thirsting over your man. Thankfully, they relent after you pull a stunt that indicates no possible way for their flirtatious attempt.

“Let me guess, they’re fakes?” Jay murmurs to you, his low timbre sending an unfamiliar blistering heat to your body, enough to distract you from the fury within you after having to witness your three stepsisters being brazenly flirtatious in front of you earlier, not that Jay reciprocated. In fact, the sight was just as painful as it was laughable despite your annoyance because he clearly wasn’t the slightest bit interested.

“Yeah.” You mutter back, hoping that you don’t sound too breathless, but the nonexistent space between you and him is not helping with how your head is in a frenzy as you are seated on top of his lap sideways to deliberately show your stepsisters that he’s yours.

Your breath nearly hitches in your throat as his hands roam around your waistline, as though he’s trying to memorise your curve while your arms around his neck loosen just slightly. You continue to speak, forcing your voice to come out strong. “They’re insufferable. Don’t be fooled by their acts. They’re probably coming up with another scheme to steal you away from me.”

Jay examines your face, and he recognises a fiery jealousy gleaming in your eye, eliciting an amused smirk from him. “Don’t worry, doll. I have my eyes on you only, and you’re the only woman worthy of my attention.” He hums, leaning forward to press his lips into your temple, an affection that leaves you breathless. “Which is why I chose you in the first place.”

“You know, you don’t have to start acting again.” You whisper softly as you look at him in the eyes daringly despite the warm flush in your cheeks. “My mother’s not even here.”

The familiar softness in his pretty eyes smoulders with an inscrutable emotion while his face is devoid of any mischief. “Who said I was acting?” His voice is a low husk, palpable with desire.

Your eyes accidentally fall to his lips, noticing how close the distance between your lips and his is. Just before you can cave into the familiar spark of temptation, your attention is being pulled away by your oldest stepsister, who is three years older than you, begrudgingly informing you to head over to the dining hall. A triumphant smirk curls on your lips when you recognise the jealousy in her eyes as you remain seated on his lap.

But you certainly don’t feel as triumphant as you were the moment you find yourself seated across from your mother, despite Jay’s presence being a constant support right next to you. You have yet to properly converse with your mother except for the earlier exchange of greetings, not that you intended to, as you can’t wait for this charade to end. You hope that your mother will not pull any usual captious stunt of hers, but knowing her, you can expect the worst.

You take a stealthy glance at your surroundings, hating how you are in the same space as the people you loathe. Though your mother and her family seem refinedly harmonious, you can see past this repulsive charade, knowing that it is only a matter of time before hell breaks loose, just like any other dinner you had with them in the past.

“So, Jay,” Your mother speaks up, causing you to tense up as you stop twirling the spaghetti with your fork rather absentmindedly. “Y/N informed me that you’re a CEO.”

A strategic opening that you recognise all too well, to which you nearly roll your eyes at. Of course, she would bring up careers first since she’s a businesswoman herself. You don’t bother to look up at her, but from the corner of your eyes, Jay seems casual, completely unaffected by this brewing tension only you feel.

“Yes, that’s right.” Jay confirms politely, though he doesn’t sound exactly amiable, but his demeanour is an unwavering neutrality, as if nothing and not even your mother’s possible strike could ever sway him.

“How long have you been dating my daughter?” Your mother asks, to which you begin to feel like she’s interrogating instead, your eye twitching in annoyance.

“For a year now.” Jay answers smoothly while you feel thankful for how he manages to think of an answer instantly, considering that you didn’t exactly discuss with him the thoroughly made-up story of your love lives.

“We met through a mutual friend.” You decide to add a lie, but your mother’s attention is solely fixated on him with a perverse interest that you recognise, causing your fist to clench under the table.

As you observe your mother, you see the way her icy gaze scrutinises him, as though something about him evokes suspicion within her. “And how old are you?”

“Mom.” You warn, not holding back this time, whatever it takes to defend your man against your birth giver. Your mother finally locks eyes with you, how they are devoid of affection or warmth that are only reserved to your stepsisters despite two of them not being your mother’s biological daughters.

“Thirty-four.” Jay barely feels offended about the question as he answers with ease, but he surely is displeased by how unnerved you are because of your mother.

Your mother directs her eyes at Jay, her lips frowning. “Aren’t you a little old for my daughter?” 

You really don’t have the patience for this. You set down your fork on the marbled surface with a sharp clink of finality. “Mother, that’s enough.” Your tone is enough for the rest of her family to resort to silence as they direct their attention to the familiar spectacle of animosity between you and her.

But your mother completely disregards your entire existence as she continues to speak to him with a calculated casualness. “Please don’t take this the wrong way. I’m merely concerned about why a man of class such as yourself decided to settle for less than he deserved. Shouldn’t you date women who are more in your league with competent qualities?”

Ah, there it is, the ultimate aim to obliterate your self-esteem by obliquely humiliating you in front of your pretend lover, because your mother clearly despises seeing you happy. The familiarity of it all brings a faintly bitter smile to your lips.

“Agreed.” Your stepsister, who is three years younger than you, Chloe, chimes; her cheery voice repulses you the same when you catch her shooting you a taunting look just briefly. “Quite frankly, you deserve way better than our sister.” You don’t have the opportunity to utter a remark at her when your mother swiftly intervenes.

“Let me introduce you to my second oldest. Mia. She’s the same age as Y/N, but she has achieved many things compared to her peers.” Your mother flagrantly gestures to Mia, who is clearly pleased to have Jay’s attention to her now as she casts him a coquettish smile. “She managed to land employment in a corporation shortly after her graduation, and she’s an accountant, which I’m sure you two would have a lot more in common with.”

You refuse to look away from your vile mother, your eyes smouldering with an intensity that parallels the torrential storms of emotions within you while you struggle to preserve your composure. The weight of your wrath overwhelms the familiar wounds festering in your heart.

“Our oldest daughter, who is twenty-five, is a—”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I don’t pretty much care for all of those.” Jay interrupts sharply, his tone pulling your attention away from your mother. The intensity in your eyes dwindles as you observe his countenance carefully, how he is undeniably frustrated but remains poised.

“I fell in love with your daughter not because of her job title or what she has to offer. I fell in love with her because of how much of an amazing woman she actually is.” He declares firmly with an irrevocable resolution before turning his head to meet your slightly widened eyes while your heart is pounding hard against your ribcage. “She understands me better than anyone else, and we connect well with each other. I don’t think I could ever be in love with anyone else that is not her. Your daughter truly is unforgettable..”

Your eyes never leave his while your surroundings fade into insignificance that not even the sudden pin-drop silence perturbs you. How peculiar, you think. Jay speaks those words with such ease and sincerity that it feels natural, as though he had prepared this in advance in order to deceive your mother and her family with this facade of your relationship, but his beautiful brown eyes speak volumes, and he looks like he’s completely enamoured by you.

Your mother clears her throat sharply, prompting you to break eye contact first. “I admire your devotion and loyalty to my daughter. Such a rare quality in men nowadays.” Her cordial tone is just as artificial as the smile on her red lips. “But to give you a piece of advice based on my experience, love alone is not enough to keep your relationship stable.”

The prior anger returns tenfold as it feels blistering in your veins. Even Jay’s presence next to you no longer feels like a tether to temperate in from acting impulsively on your emotions. “I don’t recall us asking you for relationship advice. An unsolicited one, at that.” You say too calmly, a deadly one that bristles two of your stepsisters.

“As your mother, I ought to give young lovers such as yourselves some advice.” Your mother snaps, and finally the mask is off, now revealing her ire towards you with glaring eyes that level with yours. “And while we’re at it, you shouldn’t be in a relationship where you have nothing to offer to your significant other. For goodness sake, you’re not even financially stable! You’re not even responsible enough to be a proper adult with a stable job!”

Silence settles right after her outburst, but it intensifies the tension in the atmosphere that is palpable to your senses. You look at her with an unwavering resoluteness, refusing to give in to her satisfaction of successfully breaking you once more. A humourless chuckle leaves your lips, shattering the deadly silence. You have no idea where this odd humour came from, but this time, you laugh out as though you find the situation hilarious while your mother eyes you warily as if you’re insane.

“God, I knew you’d reveal your true colours sooner or later.” You snarl coldly after swiftly recovering yourself, taking them by complete surprise. “You did not invite me over just for dinner — you wanted to humiliate and criticise me as if I didn’t have any dignity, like you always do, and deliberately at that once you got to know that I’d be bringing my boyfriend along with me.”

You can feel his eyes on you at the strong emphasis, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not when he’s witnessing the raw, ugly truth of your relationship with your mother when he shouldn’t be, bringing you to shame.

Your mother’s glare is as penetrating as her hatred for you. “A sophisticated man like him should be informed what kind of a daughter you really are.” 

“Definitely not your daughter, not anymore.” You retort, your body trembling with the onslaught of emotions that expel any rationality within you. You can even barely register the familiar warmth of Jay’s hand on yours as you intend to lash out with what you’ve buried for years. “You stopped being my mother the moment you decided to abandon me ten years ago by choosing your new family over me and Dad, and now you have the audacity to judge and criticise me in front of the love of my life?!”

You nearly scoff at the audacity of hurt in her eyes. “How could you say that to your own mother?!” She shouts angrily, and she harshly brushes off her husband’s attempt to calm her. “You were the one who chose to walk away from me! You rejected my calls and messages, so how dare you—”

The maelstrom of emotions within you propels you to rise abruptly, towering over your mother’s seething figure. “Can you even blame me?! You walked away first! So you don’t have the right to be upset when I was the one who constantly tried reaching out to you first when I needed you!” Amidst the sheer anger in your voice, there is a discernible crack that Jay recognises. The back of your eyes begins to burn familiarly, but your glaring wrath never strays from her. “But you prioritised your new family more than you ever did with me! You were barely a presence in my life even when I was a youngling! You didn’t even attend any of my graduations!"

“I’m glad I didn’t attend your university graduation months ago. It would’ve been a waste of my time because look at how you turned out to be! A useless woman who has no sense of her identity!” Your mother strikes down the part of you that you have always struggled with acceptance, causing you to falter from within.

She continues to lambast you with her familiar cruelty while you can feel the weight in your chest suffocating you. “You don’t even have a job to sustain yourself. And you have the gall to be in a relationship with a man who deserves more than what he settles for? You bring shame to your father and me! I refuse to be known as someone who shares the same blood as you.”

Still, your demeanour remains unyielding as you clench your jaw. “Then I guess we can come to an agreement that neither of us should continue whatever ties we had, not that it existed in the first place, considering you’ve been an absent mother since day one.” You tell her calmly with an icy finality. “Don’t worry about being embarrassed of me any longer, because I promise you that this is the last time I’ll ever be associated with you and the last time you’ll see my face. I’m better off without you, always have.”

There is a fleeting emotion in her eyes, and you can’t tell whether it’s regret or satisfaction, but you couldn’t care less as you grab your purse on your chair. “Y/N.” She calls for you, her tone indicating that she’s not done with you.

Without looking at her, you grab Jay’s hand while he is quick on his feet. You inhale deeply before forcing yourself to look at your birth giver right in the eyes with burning resentment. “Thanks for the dinner. The food's bland, by the way. Might want to hire a private chef since cooking is obviously not your specialty.”

You immediately depart from the dining hall with your pretend lover, even when she’s yelling furiously at you about your insolence and the strings of words about how you could never survive without her. You continue to walk away, not even realising that you’re gripping his hand so tight, but he doesn’t make any remark, and neither do you.

The silence prevails even after you have settled in the passenger seat, mastering avoidance as you refuse to look at the man next to you, because you know that it takes one look at his face for your resolve to crumble.

Jay feels like there is an intangible wall that prevents him from getting to you despite being in the same vicinity, how utterly helpless he is when you have clearly established your avoidance, but still, he needs to try. His grip on the steering wheel loosens just slightly as he looks at you. “Honey…"

You draw in a sharp inhalation as his mellow tone affects you just as easily. “Just drive, please.” You utter a soft plea while your throat hurts from the emotions that form a painful lump in your throat.

Thankfully, Jay complies as he operates the functions that propel his vehicle to finally depart from the mansion that you won’t ever step foot into again, but your heightened senses detect the tension emanating from him, and even from the corner of your eye, his chiselled jaw looks taut just the same as his flinty countenance.

You shove down the bitterness at the presumption of him being frustrated at you, but it only seems to hurt your already wounded heart. You wonder what he thinks of you now after the relentless humiliation from your birth giver. You wonder if he’s reevaluating his judgement for choosing you.

You don’t even realise that you have been spiralling in the tumult of your emotions until the vehicle abruptly comes to a stop, prompting your focus on the view ahead. “Where have you brought me?” You ask him with a confused frown.

“I figured that you needed some air.” Jay says lightly, his face unreadable as he looks at you, but a small smile touches his lips. “Come on.”

The next thing you know, you are walking hand-in-hand with Jay along the pavement at the park in comfortable silence while enjoying the evening breeze. Though the storms in your head remain unabating, you feel an odd sense of peace after the realisation that you managed to bravely sever any ties with your birth giver, which was long overdue.

You take a glance at him, your wounded heart bearing a flutter that soothes the ache faintly. But then comes the immense guilt that aggravates your emotions. “Thank you, Jay.” Your voice sounds fragile, unlike anything he’s ever heard. “And I’m sorry.”

Jay frowns, hating how unapologetically you look as your eyes are filled with immense guilt. “What are you sorry for?” 

“You shouldn’t have witnessed that.” You tell him honestly, halting your steps as you force yourself to let go of his hand, berating yourself for how undeserving you are of his warmth. You don’t look at him even as you continue to deliver your heartfelt apology, but your breathing goes rapidly. “I’m really sorry that you had to deal with my mother, and I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. It was improper of me—”

“Calm down, honey.” He places his hands on your shoulders, his tone being carefully measured but never losing its mellowness. His firm eyes search for yours, noticing how shaky your pupils are. “You have nothing to apologise for. You were upset and angry, rightfully so. Your own mother shouldn’t have humiliated you in the first place, let alone in front of a guest. It was improper of her.”

Jay knows it all too well, as he too had to face such humiliation from his father back when he was a fresh graduate, and if he’s being honest, he felt slightly triggered by the earlier spectacle, as it reminded him of the similar situation he once was in. Personally, you handled it far better than he did, how you never seemed to lose your composure even when he felt your hand trembling earlier, but your demeanour was admirably unyielding.

The stark sincerity emanating from him compels you to divulge more truths that you still resent. “She humiliated me in front of my ex-colleagues too when I was still working as a barista.” You say dejectedly while you struggle to fight against the emotions that threaten to leak in a torrent. “She didn’t approve of it and said that it's a job for uneducated drop-off college students.”

Jay scoffs in disbelief, anger burning in his chest because there is one thing that he absolutely despises: those condescending people, such as your mother, when it comes to a person’s occupation. “That’s ridiculous. Being a barista is just like any other job. You were making an honest living.” He says harshly, shocking you at the display of ire that you had never once seen, but you know that it is not directed to you.

You know that you should stop from going further, but for the first time, you feel seen by someone in a way that you have longed for. “I even told her over the last phone call that I went for multiple interviews for jobs that were equivalent to my degree, but she shut me down, berating me for not being good enough, for not being worthy in anyone’s eyes, not even hers.” You release a shaky breath as you look down, blinking away the tears from blurring your vision. “Maybe she’s right. I’m the problem, and maybe I didn’t try hard enough.”

Jay grabs you by the chin firmly before lifting your head up, his eyes hardened with resolve that feels oddly comforting to you. “Don’t let your mother’s words get to you, or even the judgement of others. They have no idea how amazing you truly are and how you are more than what they choose to see.” He speaks with such confidence that he almost fooled you into believing that you are enough, but the soft plea in his tone strikes a chord in you. “So please, don’t ever think or speak lowly of yourself.”

You don’t respond, knowing that you will return to the same cycle, but he is not having any of that as he cups your cheeks, forcing your eyes to maintain eye contact with him. “I need you to promise me, honey.” How peculiar, you think, to see such desperation that lies behind the devastation in his beautiful brown eyes, as though he is beseeching you not to lose yourself in the familiar spiral. “Promise me that you won’t ever discredit and belittle yourself anymore.”

“I promise.” You state emphatically, needing to assure him as you have come to loathe how he seems to be hurting on your behalf. How peculiar, you think, as you are able to read through him when he’s usually enigmatic despite his gentleness and unexpected mischief.

Jay sighs softly before leaning down to give you a lingering kiss on the forehead. You close your eyes, relishing the warmth of his lips on your skin, but it is odd how it takes just a kiss on the forehead for the dam to break.

“I hate her.” You whisper, your voice fragile as it breaks in between while you struggle to restrain the whirlwind of emotions within you. You latch your fingers around his wrist, needing him to hold you still. “I hate her so much.”

Jay slowly pulls away from your forehead to look at you, his eyes softening as he recognises the emotions that you silently battle behind the windows of your beautiful eyes.

“Your feelings are valid, baby.” Jay says gently, his thumbs stroking your cheeks. “You know, you don’t have to be strong all the time. It’s okay to depend on someone else for once. It’s okay to cry too.”

Despite the weeks of pampering you with his time and wealth, Jay notices one trait of you that remains unbending, even after his generous assurance, and that is how you often refuse to accept anything from him other than money, since your relationship is still an official transaction, even though it would end up futile for you as he is just as obstinate as you. You remind him of himself back when he had nothing except to involuntarily depend on his best friend. It is truly a bittersweet feeling. Sometimes, he sees himself in you, as though you’re his twin flame despite the differences in your personalities.

A part of you still refuses to showcase your sheer vulnerability, how it remains guarded despite him having already earned your trust, but when you gaze deeply into his warm, kind eyes, the back of your eyes sting unbearably that they begin to accumulate rapidly with the tears you have been fighting off.

“I’m not useless.” You tell him brokenly, a tear rolling down your cheek that he gently wipes away with his thumb. 

Jay adorns a small smile that reflects his warm kindness, which only seems to break you apart from within. “I know you’re not, doll. You never were.” His tone is so gentle and so soothing, but it easily devastates the surge of emotions that have been vying to dominate your teetering composure.

“I tried.” You plead truthfully as the memories of those hardships you have gone through play in your mind, but your voice continuously cracks the same way the last of your resolve crumbles. An accidental sob escapes you. “I tried my best. I really did.”

It hurts his heart to see you being so broken and defeated when you usually look indestructible, as if no one can ever shatter your confidence despite your shyness occurring around him. “Come here, honey.”

As soon as Jay embraces you in his arms, you allow yourself to crumble as rivulets of tears descend on you, your arms latching around his torso as you eventually fall weak against him. You hold onto him like he’s your lifeline, fearing that he too would abandon you like your biological parents did.

Little do you know that his heart only seems to break over and over at the sounds of your heartbreaking cries, as though you had been harbouring this for years, prompting him to tighten his arms around your trembling body in an attempt to ground you to the moment, and that he’s here, he’s always here.

Nothing coherent is on your mind, only a torrential need to let out the tears you have been holding back for so long, your body racking with the onslaught of devastation. You can’t even remember when was the last time you ever cried, as you have only ever depended on the numbness that overwhelmed your senses to get you through the difficult periods in your life, because you knew that crying wouldn’t change a single thing.

“My efforts will never be enough for her! No matter what I do, it will never be enough!” You sob loudly, years of pain and resentment consuming every inch of you with such intensity that you have never felt before while your heart clenches painfully. You feel the dampness in the material of his top due to your tears, but you can’t seem to pull away from him as you desperately seek his warmth, needing to ground yourself. “I will never be enough for anyone.”

Something snaps inside of him that prompts him to pull you away from his chest, now cradling your beautiful tear-stricken face. “I promise you that you are enough. You are more than enough.” He punctuates each word with fierce conviction that imprints on your mind, the same way he looks at you as though you are worthy in his eyes. “Your worth is not determined by your achievements, your employment status, or anything that is measurable. It’s who you really are on the inside that determines your self-worth.”

“Am I really enough?” You ask shakily, your sobs dwindling while your breath stutters from the exertion, your fingers curl into fists as they rest on his solid chest. Your lips quiver as you muster the courage to speak the words that sit heavily on your tongue. “Am I enough for you?”

Jay doesn’t lift a smile on his lips, but his features soften differently, particularly his warm brown eyes that are staring at you with a familiar longing. The gesture of his thumb on your tear-stained cheek in affectionate strokes sends a flutter to your wounded heart. “You always have been, honey. I wish you could see how I truly see you.” 

With every affectionate stroke on your cheek, it seems to mend on each wound your heart bears for years, albeit you know that it will take an indeterminate period to fully heal your withered soul with fragmented pieces of your morale. Still, you yearn for his touch deeply as you lean your cheek into his palm, feeling a strange sense of security emanating from him and how everything just seems to pale in comparison when you’re with him.

“Tell me that you see me.” and not just as your sugar baby, but the words vehemently refuse to leave your lips.

Jay gazes into your misty eyes deeply before a smile peculiarly knowing graces his lips. “I see you, honey. Always have.” He says sincerely before giving your forehead a kiss. “You are a remarkable woman who I know has ambitions of her own, and I’m a lucky man to have a woman like you in my arms right now.”

Your cheeks flush warmly at how easily he speaks such flattering words so easily that leave a profound impact on you each time. “You know, you can stop acting now.” You mutter, a familiar diffidence cloaking your once-fragile figure. “You don’t have to go so far to—"

Your breath hitches in your throat as he closes the distance between your faces, his eyes darkening with an unveiled want that feels borderline dangerous. “I told you earlier, didn’t I? I was never acting.” His voice drops to an octave that resonates deep in your core, and his eyes flicker down to your slightly parted lips. “And I’m not acting on what I’m about to do next either.”

With that, his lips descend on yours in a delicate kiss that sends sparks through your body, his lips fitting with yours perfectly while his hands that once were cupping your cheeks descend to your waistline, a gentle exploration that flutters your heart. He kisses you like how you imagined your first kiss with him to be — tender with a hint of firm urgency as though he’s been yearning for your lips.

The texture of your lips feels addictingly soft and tastes like cherry, a flavour that has become his favourite. He pours in every emotion he has been harbouring for weeks into the kiss, bordering on such desperation. You drape your arms around his neck as you kiss him back with equal fervour that propels him to deepen the kiss, lips occasionally parted as though you need air, but you need him more than ever; desperation is evident in each caress of your lips on his.

His tongue drags across the seam of your lower lip, compelling you to part your lips open for him to claim every inch of you, but when your tongue tenderly meets his, his head goes into a frenzy at the wet sensation, but he doesn’t want to go far, and so he slowly retracts his tongue before kissing you instead with an intense passion of yearning, hoping that you can feel every ounce of it.

You can feel your lungs burning from the fervent exchange of kisses before forcing yourself to pull away from the passionate lip lock. “Jay.” You utter his name breathlessly as you look at him with hooded eyelids, but the desire in your eyes is a reflection of his, and yet neither of you dares to breach that unspoken boundary.

“I was right.” His husky chuckles send butterflies to your tummy. He leans his forehead against yours, lips widening into a smile that showcases his dimples that you love while his grip on your waist feels like he has no intention to let you go. “Your lips are soft.”

Your fingers absentmindedly stroke his jawline that feels just as strong as he is. “You thought of my lips?” You ask softly, finding yourself lifting a shy smile that he’s head over heels for since day one. 

Jay pulls you closer until your body is pressed into his. “All the damn time, honey, you have no idea.” He whispers before closing the distance between your lips once more, sealing you into a kiss that confirms these complicated emotions swirling within you.

Your lips still tingle from the dreamy sensation of his lips while your mind is often a constant playback of the passionate exchange of kisses that happened last week, but you want more; you need more. You simply can’t get enough of his kisses, of him, and above all, you want him so bad that it hurts.

Even just the thought of him is enough to awaken the butterflies in your tummy, a newfound sensation ever since the clarity dawned on you.

“I think I’ve caught feelings for Jay.” You finally speak up, shattering the rare calming quietude in the living room as you are sprawled across the fluffy rug, staring into the white-painted ceiling.

Sabrina, who has been lounging on the couch right next to you, leans her body forward to peer down at you, her face contorting into a confusion despite her eyes glinting with curiosity. “Who?”

Classic Sabrina. Of course, she had forgotten who Jay was even after she was responsible for accepting his request. “My sugar daddy.” You tell her in an obvious deadpan, and recognition instantly glimmers in her blue eyes.

Sabrina heaves a sigh and places her phone down before adjusting to a more comfortable position to look at you better. “Girl, most sugar babies would usually catch feelings for their sugar daddies after the first few meetings.” She says matter-of-factly. “Some even go straight down to business in the bedroom with their sugar daddies on their first day, so it’s quite surprising that you haven’t pounced on yours yet.”

“Sab! Be serious! This is a very big deal for me!” You exclaim emphatically as you change into a sitting position to face her entirely. “I like him— no wait, I really, really like him.” There is no way that you love him, but you know for sure that your feelings towards him are anything but platonic. 

Sabrina studies you carefully, noticing the way your eyes gleam with an emotion so unfamiliar, especially after knowing you for years. “Can’t blame you. He’s super hot.”

You roll your eyes at her ever-unserious remark before sighing in exasperation. “It’s not just because he’s hot and attractive. He gets me, like really gets me, and I get him too.” As you divulge to your best friend, you find yourself smiling at the memories of him, recalling. “He always seems to know what to say and what I want to hear. He understands me better than anyone else, no offence.”

You worry that you might offend your best friend, but she erupts into chuckles, her face devoid of any unpleasantness. “Girl, please. You know that it would take a lot more than that to hurt my feelings.” She rolls her eyes playfully before looking at you with keen interest. “So tell me more about the man who has finally caught my girl’s heart.”

You beam at her, feeling much appreciation that she is willing to listen to you. “People often mistake him as someone who is arrogant and mean. Probably because they view him as the cold, stereotypical CEO, and his features are sharp and defined enough to intimidate them, but he is not any of those. In fact, he’s soft-spoken and a true gentleman at heart.” You list down the qualities and traits about him that you have grown to love, enthusiastically. “He’s incredibly thoughtful and kind too. I love how he always sees the beauty in everything despite their flaws, how he always seems to know what I want to hear even though I don’t tell him. He just...he just gets me!”

You sigh dreamily with your lips curled upwards. “I’ve never met a man so perfect, so dreamy, like him before.” As soon as you finish, you finally notice how unusually quiet your best friend has gone, prompting you to focus on her, who is staring at you like you’re an alien. A frown touches your lips. “What?”

“Oh, girl…You’re down bad, and I mean like really down bad for him.” She remarks, enunciating each word with strong emphasis while amusement dances in her eye. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever heard you compliment a guy in detail, because you’d usually say shit about men in general.”

Sabrina has a point, as those experiences you had with men in the past were generally unpleasant. “He’s so different from the men I’ve come across.” You say truthfully, smiling again at the thought of him, but then comes the realisation of your next move. “So what do I do now?”

Sabrina gives you an obvious expectant look. “Just tell him that you like him.” 

You huff lightly. “I know that, but like, I’ve been—” You pause, biting down your lower lip in embarrassment as you look down at your hands. “I’ve been having thoughts about him lately.”

Sabrina narrows her eyes at you in suspicion, and considering she's been your best friend for years, it doesn’t take too long for her to put the pieces together, gasping dramatically. “You nasty slut! Was that why you wanted to borrow my vibrator?!” She exclaims with a gleeful smile. “You’ve been fantasising about the man of your dreams!”

You groan loudly and bury your face in your palms. “Gosh, this is ridiculous.” You mutter dryly, but she isn’t wrong. You have been fantasising about Jay hard, and you don’t think that you have ever fantasised about anyone like that, and that itself terrifies you because of how much of an impact he has made ever since he entered your life.

“So when will you get dicked down by your sugar daddy?” Sabrina asks casually right after she has calmed down from the weird excitement about the embarrassing discovery of you.

The reality hits you, and there go the thoughts that dim the hope in you. “I don’t know. I don’t know if he would want that. What if he doesn’t want me like that?” You ramble dejectedly, your eyebrows knitting together worriedly. “I mean, to be fair, we did kiss—“

“You did?! And I wasn’t informed?!” She interrupts with a disbelieving gasp, and before you can retort, she throws a pillow at you, which you catch swiftly, before she goes moaning, “Bitch, you know I love juicy details!”

“It wasn’t a big deal. It happened in a spur of a moment, I guess.” You state unsurely as the memory plays on your mind. You sigh annoyedly, hating how your emotions are going familiarly haywire again. “The point is, I want him so bad, but I can’t just tell him straight in the face that I want him to fuck me.”

Oh, you really do, particularly his cock that you have been craving for, and you have no doubt that he would stuff you full as you had noticed the size of his bulge that pressed against his pants. It’s not only pure fucking that you crave — his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones as you moan pleasurably at his sheer girth, his strong, sweaty body pressing into yours as he whispers sweet yet filthy things into your ears, his lips claiming yours, his fingers interlacing with yours while he delivers slow yet shallow thrusts into your needy cunt.

You have a strong inkling that when he fucks, he does not only fuck, but every movement, every thrust, every kiss, and everything he does will be imprinted on your mind. Just the thought of it has your cunt clenching physically and your clit throbbing again.

“I have an idea.” Sabrina thankfully manages to distract you before you can spiral into your salacious fantasies again.

You raise an inquisitive eyebrow at her, feeling intrigued despite the mischief curling on her pink lips. “I’m listening.”

“What if you make him jealous?” She suggests, earning a confused stare from you. She huffs impatiently. “You know, flirting with other guys in his presence or just doing something in front of him that might trigger his jealousy.”

“How does making him jealous have any correlation to him wanting to have sex with me?” You ask her incredulously. “If anything, him seeing me flirt with other guys would definitely turn him off.” The last thing you need is to do something that turns him off.

“Isn’t it obvious? Jealousy always leads to sex; it happens. Well, at least to me.” She shrugs her shoulders, eliciting a sigh from you at her predictable confession. She startles you when she moves off the couch to sit in front of you, grabbing your hands keenly. “Girl, trust me, it’ll work! Especially since yours just so happens to be a sugar daddy, and they tend to be possessive over their sugar babies.”

Okay, that marginally entices you. You look at her in the eyes, the determination in them giving you a sense of confidence. “Fine. Maybe I’ll do it on this business event that Jay invited me to be his plus one.” You concede with a soft sigh.

Apparently, Jay informed you about a gala he was required to attend during last night’s video call — he prefers video calls instead of normal phone calls most of the time since he gets to see your face — and he invited you to go with him since he needed a plus one. Initially, you hesitated since you would be in the presence of highly sophisticated businessmen and businesswomen, people of class, but the look in Jay’s eyes easily won you over.

A frown touches your lips. “But I have no idea how to make him jealous when the gala will be filled with businessmen, and there is no way I could ever dare to go up to one of them and flirt, especially since I’m obviously not in their league.” You point out the realistic part of this ridiculous plan.

Sabrina gives you a deadpan look, as though you had said something that’s offensive. “I don’t know if you realise this yet, but you’re actually a hot babe. With that face and body of yours, you can easily pass off as one of those elite ladies. I’m not even lying!” Her tone is a rare sincerity that you surprisingly believe in, but still, you’d probably be dull compared to the refined ladies of class.

“Well, let’s hope jealousy would work.” You sure hope it does because Jay is a highly secure man, so it would be unlikely to make him jealous.

When the gala has finally beckoned, you find yourself having qualms about delving into an unacquainted sphere that is laden with pursuits of the high society and definitely not the type of crowd you prefer to be in, as you know that there will be those supercilious individuals similar to your mother. 

Your four-inch stiletto heels make a rhythmic yet expensive click, which echoes through the palatial hallway as you saunter across the marble floor to get to the dreadful destination just ahead of you, where the harmony of soft jazz and cadence of entertainment is a soft resonance that emits from behind the doors of the grand ballroom.

Your arm is looped around his sturdy bicep that feels comfortingly dependable, comparable to a safe haven, and so you surrender to the overwhelming sensation of your erratic nerves, allowing your composure to lose its tenacity and prompting him to ease his pace as he feels every tension emanating from you. 

A frown touches his lips as he observes your faintly distressed countenance, ambivalence swirling in your beautiful irises. “You okay?” He asks softly, drawing your attention to his warm brown eyes that showcase his concern. “I can feel you trembling, honey.”

You didn’t even realise that your arm around him had been trembling until he pointed it out. “Nervous, actually.” You tell him honestly, releasing a shaky breath as your shoulders go limp in dejection. “I just know that I’ll feel so out of place.”

For the first time ever since he met you, Jay feels like an inconsiderate fool for neglecting your comfort, and it is understandable why you feel that way. The thought of finally going to the customary gala with someone whose company he genuinely enjoys, aka you, overlooked the fact that you might feel uncomfortable being in the presence of imposing, pompous elites he knows all too well. 

His eyes roam around your beautiful face a little longer, whereas you avoid meeting his gaze, feeling unsettled as you are evidently brittle by the inevitable. He is tempted to bring you out to an extravagant date that you deserve instead, but he can’t ditch the gala that is hosted by one of his trustworthy allies.

“If anyone comes up to you and asks you who you are, just tell them that you’re my fiancée.” Jay says firmly, his tone marked with a finality that evokes conflicting emotions within you, one of which involves butterflies incessantly fluttering in your already-churning stomach.

Ah, so it’s no wonder why he gave you a gorgeous platinum Tiffany & Co. ring that now fits perfectly on your ring finger, matching with his, earlier when he fetched you at the apartment. You were genuinely surprised when he told you that the rings were brand new.

“But isn’t that kind of risky?” You ask with a frown, your words treading on reservation as rationality outweighs the delightful idea of being known as his fiancée. “Based on my research, your popularity in the business industry is equivalent to Beyoncé's. So to know about your sudden engagement would shock people. What if they start to speculate things about us? Your reputation would be tainted as a result.”

Jay knows that he’s supposed to be a little less worried about the possibility of you getting hurt because of his impulsive decision, but he continues to stare at you with a glinting fascination. “You did research about me?” He asks teasingly with an irresistible smirk on his lips.

Truth be told, it was a last-minute homework assignment that you decided to do last night since you couldn’t fall asleep, but it was thorough research that honestly helped you a lot in gaining some knowledge about the businessman whom you’re having strong feelings for, and to say the least, you were both impressed and daunted upon your discovery.

You look at him, feeling a sense of intimidation and a dangerous heat that teasingly unfurls in your core despite the familiar warmth in the depth of his eyes and his softened countenance. It baffles yet awes you that this is the same man who has had a hand in rightfully destroying the empire of his nemeses and at the same time amassing substantial achievements. He’s also renowned to be the most ruthless in the world, full of business tycoons. But right now, he looks nowhere near capable of causing harm with how mellowed his features are as he gazes at you.

“Of course, I had to. You’re like a really big deal in the business industry.” You defend yourself, your cheeks flushing warmly at his avid attention as though you are something worthy. “Plus, I didn’t want to embarrass you in any way.”

The familiar shyness in your countenance strongly tempts him to kiss you, his lips tingling at the memory of your lips that happened last week. “Consider me flattered, doll. But you could never embarrass me.” He says sincerely, his once-softened eyes now hardening with resolution. “Don’t worry about any of that. Just stick to being my fiancée.”

“If you say so.” You mumble, and with a few steps forward, the hotel staff greets you before opening the door to smooth your way in. Once you enter, you are greeted by the resplendent lights illuminating the grand ballroom, but there is barely enough time for you to scan your surroundings when eyes are immediately on the two of you the moment you enter.

You lower your gaze. You can already hear the whispers and feel the judgement in their eyes that make your skin crawl with dread. Have they finally found out that you’re not one of their people?

“They’re looking at us.” You mutter to him, your arm tensing around his arm as you move closer to him for security.

“Can’t really blame them. Have you seen yourself?” His voice is low, but enough for you to catch onto every word. When you meet his eyes, they are roaming every inch of you with appreciation, but his low voice has a familiar husk of desire as he speaks, “You look truly exquisite, doll.”

Jay feels a sense of pride as you are adorned in the dress that he bought for you two days ago. The royal blue is a reflection of elegance and complements the satiny material, essentially enhancing your allure that he has always found irresistible. The dress itself hugs your curves perfectly, and the daring slit reveals the right amount of your gorgeous leg. The volume of makeup accentuates your already-beautiful features immaculately. A familiar heat unfurls within him as his eyes linger on the Van Cleef necklace and earrings he bought for you that are displayed proudly on you.

You look absolutely ethereal, straight out of his fantasy, and it doesn’t help that the feelings he harbours for you intensify when you smile shyly at him, a side of you only he can evoke. “Thank you.” You utter softly, forgetting about the background as you scan every inch of his handsomeness. “You look so handsome.”

Oh, he really does, and it takes every strength in you to refrain from pouncing on him in front of these dignified elites. His tailored black suit fits him impeccably, exuding understated luxury and enhancing his strong allure that brings a wave of intimidation to the other elites while his presence alone is capable of dominating this grand ballroom. His jet-black hair has been styled in a way that reveals a segment of his chiselled forehead, framing his features flawlessly without minimising the commanding presence that exudes from his striking face alone, which is the reason why every pair of eyes can’t help but to gravitate to him.

You notice how professionally guarded his dark eyes look, as though the businessman side of him has surfaced, but there is an unmistakable softness that is reserved for you as long as you are in his line of sight. “Oh? Do I now?” He smirks, his tone teasing as he leans closer to you, his Dior Sauvage infiltrating your senses deliciously.

You hum, refusing to back down despite your stomach being a whole damn zoo as he unrelentingly inches his face closer to yours that you don’t even notice him swiftly wrapping his arms around your waist. “You were always handsome.” You say without missing a beat, even when you’re melting into a puddle from within at the intensity of his handsome gaze.

“Tell me more, doll. I love hearing compliments from you.” He murmurs as he bumps his nose playfully yet affectionately into yours, feeling more eyes on them and hearing some faint gasps at the rare display of affection from him that they have never seen throughout the years he’s been attending such events with his previous chosen plus ones.

Your eyes fall to his lips, and you know that it only takes you just one swift movement to connect your lips with his, but a movement of an unfamiliar figure catches your eye that staves off your temptation. “Unfortunately, you’re about to have a taste of your popularity.” You mutter to him before stifling a laugh at the confusion in his face.

Before Jay can open his mouth, a manly voice eagerly calls for him from behind. “Mr. Park!”

“Fuck.” His voice is an attractive low husk as he curses under his breath, and as you listen closely, you can discern a faint growl of dissatisfaction in his throat that unfurls the heat in your core. Ever since meeting him, you realise that he rarely utters such profanities, but when he does, your core throbs with the incessant heat. 

“Don’t curse. It isn’t suitable for a refined man like you.” You admonish him playfully, your lips stretching into a grin as you are very much amused by his reaction.

Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into an attractive smirk again while mischief gleams in his eyes. “Cheeky one, aren’t you, doll?” 

Your eyes widen at the sensation of his fingers digging into your flesh, hard and quick but enough for you to grasp what just happened, eliciting a gasp from you. “You did not just squeeze my a—“ Before you can finish your sentence, his warmth leaves you as he proceeds to entertain a businessman.

Your cheeks flare at his unexpected action, and you have no idea whether it’s your face or ass cheeks that are flaring, but you know for a fact that you need a drink soon. The great part about being his plus one to this lavish gala is getting free exquisite drinks and food, but you decide to wait for him since you feel awkward going about on your own.

But soon enough, you realise that nothing feels more awkward than standing aside while watching your pretend fiancé getting pulled by socialite after socialite that feels maddeningly perpetual. You can see the efforts of Jay trying to extricate himself from every engagement wane, leaving you no choice but to attend to your rumbling stomach as you head over to the food section.

You know that you are too exasperated to feel self-conscious of the undesirable attention from those in your vicinity. It seems that you have underestimated Jay’s popularity among these socialites despite his daunting reputation.

You would have felt proud of him for all the deserving compliments you heard from those socialites if it weren’t for the fact that some women have taken advantage of their close proximity with him to blatantly touch or even grip his bicep, even after he politely declined them in the most subtle yet annoying way. Is it bad that you need him to straightforwardly tell them off or even shove one of them away from him?

With your fingers wrapped around the stem, you raise the glass to your lips and take more sips of the exquisite champagne that fails to quell your brewing ire, your sharp eyes narrowing at Jay, who is surrounded by more businesswomen, as it seems, and they look to be around his age, but highly sophisticated, as even you can discern their expensive aura from afar. As much as you hate to admit it, each of those women does look compatible with Jay. Plus, they’re far more successful than you.

Still, your ridiculous jealousy nearly goes rampant, overshadowing the insecurity within you, when you observe one of them gripping his bicep oddly comfortably with familiarity. The worst part is he doesn’t seem to be bothered as he continues to converse with an unfamiliar man in a fine tuxedo.

Too absorbed in the tempest of your emotions, you fail to realise the person next to you, who has been observing you with amusement. “I would hate for you to ruin your gorgeous dress, unless you intend to do so by gripping that delicate glass tightly till it breaks?” 

His thick yet attractive Australian accent captivates your attention so quickly that you momentarily forget why you’re practically seething. Your eyes lock with the unknown man’s that gleam with recognition and delight, and yet you don’t feel uncomfortable by his abrupt presence, just a tad wary. 

“I didn’t realise it.” You utter slowly as you find yourself checking him out without the intention to. You can’t help it, not when his face is an enchantment that evokes both jealousy and admiration within you, because if being both pretty and handsome were a person, it would definitely be him.

His face definitely captivates one’s interest at first glance. His facial features are strongly chiselled, and yet every line and shape is smoothly well-proportioned. He was definitely sculpted by divine hands, because damn, his handsome beauty is something that naturally etches into one’s memory, unforgettable. You also notice how his outfit seems to stand out from the other socialites, a blend of simplicity and subtle elegance.

When your eyes return to his face, he adorns a lopsided grin on his Cupid-bow lips, and it has your head filled with doubts whether or not he is indeed a businessman since he doesn’t seem like one. Honestly, he looks like the type to revel in a lavish lifestyle without worrying about a single thing. “Of course, you didn’t. You were too occupied shooting daggers with your eyes at my best friend.” 

You feel a sense of recognition upon his declaration, as Jay had spoken about his mysterious best friend a few times. “Jay’s your best friend?”

The grin on his lips feels so infectious that you fight off the urge to lift a smile of your own. “The only trustworthy best friend, even if he claims me to be a pain in his ass.” He chuckles breathily before proceeding to introduce himself. “I’m Sim Jaeyun, but you can call me Jake.”

This time, you crack a smile. “Nice to meet you, Jake. I’m—“

“I already know who you are.” His words elicit a genuine look of surprise from you.

“You do?” You ask in disbelief, feeling a little flattered that this fine gentleman recognises you.

Jake nods his head, tucking his hands into the pocket of his Prada jacket. “Sure did. I was the one who convinced him to choose you and that you’re the right one for him.” He divulges so casually, but his tone carries a careful tread as though he doesn’t intend for anyone to catch onto his words. “Not that he needed much convincing because my guy had literal heart eyes when he came across your profile.” 

“Oh.” So he knows that you’re his best friend’s sugar baby and not the fiancée, but you have a gut feeling that Jake poses no threat to you.

Jake observes the way you take another glance at his best friend, smirking as he recognises the jealousy flattening the smile on your lips. “I wouldn’t be too worried if I were you.” He says in a drawl, drawing your attention back to him. “My best friend is practically head over heels for you.”

You scoff lightly as you place your half-empty glass on the standing table next to you. “I’m not worried. We’re only faking this whole fiancée thing since he insisted. Besides, I’m just his sugar baby. Nothing more.” You retort, and yet your voice holds a bitter edge that you can hear.

Jake makes a disapproving tut that has you narrowing your eyes at. “He’d be sad and disappointed to hear that.”

Your eyebrows furrow, unconvinced by his statement because it doesn’t change the fact that you are Jay’s sugar baby. “Why would he be?” Your genuine question earns him an inquisitive eyebrow raised.

“You have no idea, do you?” He asks in a peculiar whisper, his brown eyes examining the genuine confusion in your countenance with scrutiny. His lips curl into an all-knowing smile that intrigues you annoyingly. “Well, let’s just say that you are more than just a sugar baby to him.”

You swear your heart skips a beat, but then again, Jake might be spewing things since you know damn well that Jay only sees you as his sugar baby. All of his affections, etc., are typically how a sugar daddy treats his sugar baby, based on your presumption. You resort to silence as you decide to finish your champagne, slowly growing more comfortable that a fine man is standing next to you.

Jake takes your silence negatively and mentally berates himself for being unconvincing with his choice of words. He clears his throat to grab your attention. “Do you know that I went to Harvard too?” 

Just like that, you and Jake form a friendly connection as you get lost in his storytelling that involves his days with Jay, particularly back in college. You notice the similarity between Jay and Jake, how they seem to talk about each other in playful annoyance, but there is an unmistakable fondness, reminding you of your friendship with Sabrina. You are so immersed in the delightful conversation with Jake that you have totally forgotten about the jealousy that embittered your mood earlier until he decides to bring up a particular memory.

“I mean, really, you should’ve seen how nervous he was! I’ve never seen him being anything like that in all my years knowing him.” Jake chuckles. “He was freaking out on what to do next after you accepted his request. It’s quite pathetic, if you ask me.”

There is no way that you would tell him that you were just the same. “But I don’t get why he was nervous. He’s a CEO, and I’m…me.” You attempt to say it in a light-hearted manner, but the dejection in your strained smile makes his eyes soften.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you — Jay is genuinely head over heels for you, even before your first official meeting. He didn’t even care what status you hold. There was something about you that captivated him.” Jake says with an unwavering resolution, and it rekindles the hope within you. “I can’t really blame him, though. You’re a stunning lady. I wouldn’t want to pass up the opportunity of getting you to be my sugar baby too.”

You decide to ignore his ever-flattering remark. “Earlier, you mentioned something about me being more than just a sugar baby to him.” You tilt your body to an angle to face him better with your arms folded below your chest, curiosity glinting in your eyes. “What did you mean?”

Jake gives you a rare, soft smile. “I think it’s better that you ask him yourself.” 

“Easy for you to say. I can’t do that without shitting in my pants.” You tell him with an eye roll, not fazed by your choice of words for a fine man whom you’ve just met, but he doesn’t particularly seem bothered either.

A sigh leaves his lips. “But then you would never know, and I doubt that he’d tell you first. My guy is ridiculously shy when it comes to you.” He mumbles the last part that you can’t quite catch.

“I’m scared.” You confess truthfully, feeling oddly inclined to confide in Jake, probably because you feel comfortable with him. “I like him, Jake. I really like him, and I see him as more than just someone who provides for me financially. But I’m worried that he might not be into me like that.”

“God, you two are indeed the perfect pair.” Jake mutters under his breath as he rolls his eyes. He looks at you sternly dead in the eyes with no traces of mischief or falsehood in his, but his features soften quickly as he sees the silver of vulnerability in your countenance. “Sweetheart, he talks about you to me all the time, and when he does, he speaks so highly of you. That shows how smitten he is. He truly adores you, and no woman has ever managed to earn his adoration throughout the years I’ve known him, so trust me when I say that he’s really into you like that.”

You open your mouth to speak, but a high-pitched laughter draws your attention back to the familiar crowd, only for the fire of jealousy to go ablaze tenfold within you when a highly sophisticated long brunette is practically feeling Jay up while hugging his arm like a pillow. 

“That woman always did want to get into Jay’s pants forever.” Jake scoffs, his tone holding disdain. He takes a glance at you, his eyebrows furrowing in concern at how upset you look. “But he always rejects her, so don’t worry.”

“He doesn’t look like he’s rejecting her now.” You mutter bitterly as you watch him speaking with an older businesswoman while not in the slightest bothered at the woman clinging onto his arm like a desperate lover. You had forgotten that a part of your research involved him being a womaniser back in his late 20s.

“I have to agree with you on that. No idea what he’s thinking right now.” Jake says with a clear disapproval, but the obvious effort of Jay pulling away his arm from her goes unnoticed by the two of you as you look away from them.

Just then, Sabrina’s idea pops into your head. You capture Jake’s attention with an expression that raises his eyebrow. “I want to make him jealous. It’s stupid, I know, but—“

“I think that’s a brilliant idea, gorgeous.” Jake cuts you off gleefully with a grin. 

You look over your shoulder, only for your heart to skip a beat when Jay meets your eyes before diverting your attention to Jake and startling him with a hand on his bicep. “Do you mind?” You ask apologetically. 

“Certainly not.” Jake seems mischievously delighted, swiftly wrapping one arm around your waist before guiding you to sway to the soft jazz. You watch as his eyes flicker to something, or rather someone, behind you. “He’s coming over, and he looks furious. You know what? Maybe it would be wise for me to release you—”

“Just play along. Pretend to keep talking to me.” You whisper to him, feeling a fiery determination in achieving your goal. Jake casts you a charming smile as he speaks about something in an attempt to make it seem like he’s flirting with you from a certain someone’s point of view.

Just as Jake’s remark elicits a genuine chuckle from you, your breath hitches in your throat at the sensation of a strong arm swiftly replacing Jake’s before you find yourself being pulled until your back hits a solid chest. “Here you are, doll. I see you have already met my best friend.” Jay says tightly, his voice carrying a dangerous tread that has you squirming lightly in his possessive grasp. “You two seem to get along pretty well.”

“Words begin to circulate about your engagement to this stunning lady.” Jake says coolly, completely unaffected by Jay’s glaring ire. “Considering that you’ve been enthusiastically socialising, was it your doing?”

“Can’t help it. Gotta warn the men here to steer clear of my fiancée.” Jay tightens his grip around your waist, his tone lacking any amiability or warmth despite Jake being his best friend. “And that includes you.”

Jake gives him a sardonic smile. “Kind of ironic how everyone now knows that you’re engaged, and yet those ladies back there didn’t seem to treat you like you’re an engaged man.”

You hold back a smile and maybe a cheer too, feeling touched that Jake is on your side, but it instantly overshadows the way Jay presses you hard into him that has you feeling a distinct shape of something else. “The same way you’ve been flirting and touching my fiancée.” He snarks.

“Stop it, Jay. You’re being ridiculous.” You say annoyedly before forcing yourself to extricate from his strong grip. You look Jay in the eyes, hiding your surprise behind a glare because right now, he looks nothing like the soft-looking man whom you’ve been spending time with for a month. “Jake is a nice guy and a fine gentleman at that.”

“Yeah, Jay. You heard her.” Jake adds fuel to the fire, earning a withering glare from Jay while he remains grinning. “How could I ever ignore your gorgeous fiancée, whom you left alone to entertain the other snobby socialites? Besides, she gets my humour and laughs at my jokes, unlike you.”

“You’re a full package, Mr. Sim. Charming and funny. Anyone would be lucky to have you.” Just like Jake, you continue to provoke Jay, oblivious to the danger you had roused as you grin cheekily at the Australian.

Jake shoots you a flirtatious wink. “You’re a flatterer, Ms. L/N.” 

“I hate to cut this short, but it would be generous of you to leave my fiancée now that I’m here to keep her company.” Jay grabs you by the waist and pins you to his side, causing your breath to hitch once more at the bodily contact. “In simple words, fuck off.”

Now you’re starting to get genuinely annoyed at his attitude towards his best friend. You look at him with a glare, ignoring how his sharp eyes actually evoke intimidation within you. “Can you stop being petty and rude? He’s your best friend!”

“Unfortunately, your fiancé’s right, sweetheart. But I did enjoy keeping you company.” Jake draws your attention when he grabs your hand tenderly before giving your knuckle a kiss, a gentlemanly gesture that has Jay fuming, but the Australian provokes him for another time as he casts you a coquettish grin. “You can text me anytime since you have my number now. See you next time, gorgeous.”

With that, Jake walks away leisurely as though he didn’t just aggravate the situation that you brought upon yourself, and it seems like Jay knows about your deliberate plan as his grip on you feels dangerously unyielding while you can feel his eyes penetrate into your side profile. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to.” Jay whispers in your ear with a sensual note, his lips grazing along the shell of your earlobe. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, doll.”

“What are you trying to insinuate?” You ask brusquely, your prior emotions bubbling to the surface as they influence your every action and word. You attempt to wrest yourself from his ironclad grip, but he effortlessly overpowers your strength. “And let go of me. Go back to your group of socialists. You were obviously enjoying their company more than mine.”

Jay recognises the underlying jealousy in your tone, and the glaring anger in your eyes only seems to spur him further, because damn, you look so fucking hot right now. “You’re pissed.” He points out in a subtle awe, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips, and it seems anything but playful.

“No shit. You let those women touch you and even flirt with you, and you expect me not to lose my cool?” You snap, practically seething, putting more force before finally breaking free from his grip. The glaring anger in your eyes never leaves his dark ones, your lips curling into a sneer. “You’ve messed with the wrong woman, Mr. Park.”

Jay scoffs lowly, his lips curling into a smirk that borders on mean, and shit, you find it so hot. “Oh really? How hypocritical of you to tell me that as if you didn’t flirt with my best friend in front of me.” His voice is rough, ladening with something that unfurls the heat in your core dangerously. “Were you trying to make me jealous, doll?”

His eyes darken at the sensual movement of your lip being tucked between your teeth as you look away from him, and just like that, the last thread of restraint easily snaps within him. A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you intend to surrender. “Jay—”

Your word is barely a whisper when he pulls you by the waist while one hand cradles the back of your head, giving you no chance to utter a word as he kisses you squarely on the lips. “Because damn it, it’s working.” He speaks in between the kisses with vehemence, raw desire dripping from his gravelly deep voice, eliciting an involuntary whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

You are thankful that you have chosen a secluded corner, or you would have drowned from the embarrassment at your apparent display of neediness. Before you can eagerly reciprocate the kiss, Jay detaches his lips from your chasing ones, leaning his forehead against yours, his breath heaving from the excruciating constraint of his own desire. “Fuck, I need to get us out of here.” He whispers harshly.

“B-But the gala isn’t over.” Your heart stutters at the way you speak when he pulls you by the wrist, your eyes staring at his broad back while he guides you to the exit, and he even ignores the other socialites that are vying for his attention along the way, as though he only has one mission that renders you both flabbergasted and aroused.

“I don’t give a damn about this worthless gala. We shouldn’t have come here in the first place.” He finally speaks up after the taut silence that followed you from the ballroom all the way to the lobby, but his tone is unrecognisable, rendering you perturbed for a moment.

Yet, despite getting caught in the whirlwind of his emotions, Jay is ever-so perceptive of your instinctive response to his brusque austerity, how peculiarly attuned he is to your emotions. He clenches his jaw in anger because, for a moment, he hates himself for making you feel daunted by him. Without looking at you, he gently pulls you into the elevator as it opens.

You look at him with uncertainty as he presses the button where the basement parking is at. You bite down your bottom lip hard, getting highly flustered by this silence. “Jay—”

Jay takes you by surprise, swiftly pinning you against the wall, but there is an ambience of tenderness emanating from him that has your heart pounding as he leans his forehead against yours, a rare delicacy gleaming in his eye. 

“I’m so sorry, honey. I know I shouldn’t have left you all alone. I got too caught up in the propositions and strengthening networks with other entrepreneurs.” He explains hoarsely, one hand holding your waist while the other cradles your face tenderly. “I’m sorry I upset you. I should’ve pushed those women away.”

“Yeah, you should’ve.” You say thickly, your tone holding an edge of desire for the man who is gazing into your eyes with such longing, as though you are the only person that mattered. “You were rude to Jake too.”

“He deserves it because he touched and held my fiancée.” His voice is soft but palpable with a husk of desire that ignites the heat in your core. “If he wasn’t someone important in my life, I would’ve done a lot worse.”

“Fake fiancée.” You correct him, feeling breathless with each passing second while a newfound tension mounts in this enclosed space. You tilt your head to an angle where your lips are dangerously close to his. “I’m not your real lover, Jay, so why did it matter that Jake touched me?”

“It matters because you’re mine. My woman.” He speaks harshly, and yet you don’t feel the slightest hurt, only pure lust intensified by his low, guttural voice and the way his grip tightens on your waist. “He knew that, and yet he still went for you.”

“Bold of you to say that when you had women all over you, so consider us even, then.” You counter weakly, lacking resolve as his possessive proclamation intensifies the relentless heat in your core, and all you need is for him to close the damn distance between your lips.

His eyes darken with an inscrutable emotion amidst the palpable hunger. “Did my apology mean nothing to you?”

“Words mean nothing if you don’t prove it with your actions.” A startled gasp leaves your lips when he presses his very distinct bulge into your body. Holy shit. He’s big.

“Does this prove to you how apologetic I am? How this prove that you’re the only woman capable of turning me on?” He says huskily in your ear, teasingly pressing his borderline painful cock into your tummy again, and he swears he can hear you faintly moan under your breath. “Those women could never make me hard the way you always do.”

“Always?” You mutter breathlessly, daring yourself to tilt your head back as you meet his dark eyes.

“Always. You have no idea how much you drive me fucking insane every damn time.” He confesses, confirming your presumption that he was indeed turned on during those times but mastered the art of self-restraint. “I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer, doll.”

“Then don’t hold back anymore.” You whisper in a sensual lull, feeling the mounted tension threatening to come crashing down on you. “Kiss me like I’m your woman, as you claimed so.”

Your lips are already parted open when his lips descend like a molten desire he repressed for so long. His lips seek yours hungrily, overwhelming your every sense as he kisses you senselessly with his hands roaming around the curvature of your back while you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer even when his body is pressed into you.

The air is charged with something dangerously electrifying, affecting the heat in your core that prompts you to grind into his hardened bulge. As the slit of your dress offers easy access for you, you lift your leg and rub it sensually against his side thigh, only for him to seize your thigh to pin your upraised leg to his hip.

“I got you, doll.” Jay groans huskily against your parted lips that are throbbing from the intensity of his dominant kisses while he grinds his bulge into you, feeling the pleasurable friction as you reciprocate, your clothed clit getting sensitive with each assault from his grinding.

“I need more.” You whine needily in between kisses, feeling your underwear dampen with your arousal. He pulls away from you, only to trail wet kisses down your neck while you submissively arch into his touch. Your soft moans fill the enclosed space as he kisses and bites down on your flushed skin, eventually tainting your once-pristine skin with his mark. You clutch on his strong shoulders, lips quivering with an uncontrollable need. “Jay, please—”

Jay swiftly captures your lips with his, kissing you with an insatiable hunger, pulling you into the depths of his desire. “I’ll give you more later.” He grunts against your lips before thrusting his tongue into your hot cavern, licking every inch and meeting your tongue in a sensual dance while moans emerge from the back of your throat every so often. Your breaths mingling with pleasurable sighs escape your lips in between the messy and desperate kisses.

Just as the two of you get lost in this intoxication of your desires melding into one, the elevator chimes open, prompting you to break the heated yet messy lip-lock, the string of saliva that remains connected on the seams of both of your lips a testament to your co-equal hungers. You look at Jay with hooded eyelids while heavy pants leave your swollen lips.

Jay smirks attractively, his eyes darkening as he scans the pure neediness in your gorgeous countenance. He leans in to kiss you wetly on the lips, causing you to squeeze your thighs together at the unbearable arousal that no doubt soaks your undies completely. How embarrassing it is that you get easily wet just by his kisses.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he proceeds to drag you to his car, anticipation brimming in your veins.

“To my place, and…” He pauses as he retrieves a familiar device in his pocket to unlock his vehicle.

“And?” You probe, watching as he opens the passenger door for you like a gentleman, as he always does.

Your heart nearly lurches in your chest when his dark eyes fixate on you before he leans his face closer to yours, an irresistible smirk etching on his handsome face. “You’re about to find out that I’m not always the gentleman you thought I was, doll.”

After the smouldering tension that accompanied the silent car ride to his place — a luxurious mansion that’s highly worth millions due to how lavishly monumental the structure is — you would have thought that things would escalate to an erotic union you had been aching for, especially after the frenzied make-out session that happened again as soon as he dragged you past the threshold of the mansion.

Wrong. The insatiable man who had practically devoured your lips and left a hickey or two on your neck earlier left you high and dry after the relentless interruption of his ringing phone, and it has been five long minutes since he left you dripping wet from the dry humping while being pinned against his bedroom door.

“I recall you were insistent about me getting married for years, so shouldn’t you be glad that I’m now engaged to my future wife?”

His words are punctuated with austere exasperation that distracts you from examining the decor in his bedroom as you now stare at the man in the vanity mirror, whose collected demeanour seems dour with each passing second as he continues to speak with his mother on the phone.

It genuinely unnerves you how the news of Jay Park’s engagement has reached his own mother in a span of a few hours since the two of you left the gala, and considering his predominant reputation in the industry, no doubt it is currently being disseminated to every media outlet. You just hope that this will do nothing to jeopardise what you have with him, or even your life as an ordinary woman.

“Nothing you said could ever induce me to break my engagement with the love of my life.” He speaks with fierce conviction, rendering you more than flattered by his adamant despite this engagement being simply a pretence. “You know, Mother, all of this fussing and reprimanding is ruining the perfect night for my fiancée and me.”

Your cheeks flush warmly when his eyes briefly meet yours in the mirror. You quickly feign being occupied with unclasping your necklace and your earrings before placing them on the vanity table since they were feeling a tad weighty, for some reason. But your eyes betray you when they gravitate to him again, and this time, his dark eyes are fixated on you with a familiar dark intensity.

“It doesn’t matter what her status and background are. The important thing is that she’s my happiness, not that it mattered to you in the first place.” He continues to speak to his phone without breaking eye contact while advancing towards you from behind, like a stealthy predator preying on its food. “You’re wasting my time when I should have been busy with my exquisite fiancée. Oh, truly, she’s impeccable, perfect for my taste buds.”

Your eyes widen just slightly, appalled at his audacious remark to his own mother, and you swear you can hear her chastising on the line, but Jay is unrelenting as he steps closer and closer until he towers over your figure from behind. Your core throbs in response to his hand feeling up the curvature of your waist.

The smirk on his lips never leaves as he holds your gaze with his dark, sultry eyes, even when he leans down to place a sensual kiss on your exposed shoulder. “Speaking of taste buds, I’m feeling quite famished, so you don’t mind if we cut our conversation short, no?”

You find the underlying mockery in his tone incredibly hot for some reason, or maybe it has to do with your neediness that is dripping again from the way you lean into his irresistible touch, suppressing a whine in your throat as his hand goes cupping your throbbing mound.

“I have to attend to my food. Can’t let your only son die from starvation.” Jay smirks, cruel mockery dripping from his tone while he continues to cup and squeeze your mount, rendering you awfully desperate and needy as you grind your ass cheeks against his hardened bulge.

“Jay—” Your word is barely a whisper when an accidental whimper escapes you instead, earning you a piercing stare from him in the mirror while his large hand cups your mound harder, as though he is displeased by you, but his eyes swirl with dark amusement and palpable hunger.

You clamp your quivering lips shut, suppressing every noise in the back of your throat as you use every strength you can muster to endure his relentless seduction, his eyes never leaving your glossy ones and his hand being attached to your aching core while he steadily grinds his bulge into your ass. 

Jay’s a refined menace, you think. It genuinely astounds you how his demeanour remains unyieldingly impassive, betraying none of the tempest within him, but the tone in his voice gets gradually unsparing, which carries an underlying warning, and it does nothing to abate the unbearable heat within you as you find every bit of this hot.

“There will be no further discussion after this call. I’m marrying my fiancée, and that’s final. If you wish to attend our wedding day, it would be wise for you to remain on my good side.” His voice is a low rumble next to your ear, sending you a pleasurable shiver down your spine. “Send my regards to Father.”

As soon as Jay ends the call and places it on the vanity table, a needy whimper leaves your lips, arching into his sinful touch. “M-Marrying your fiancée? What do you mean?” You stutter, your chest heaving up and down with your breathing uneven. “You can’t be serious.”

“What if I say I am?” His voice is a husky whisper, carrying the weight of his hunger. Anticipation thrums in your veins as he proceeds to unzip the back of your dress, his movement deliberate and tantalising. “Will you push me away, doll?”

“But we can’t—” You are rendered speechless when he roughly tugs down your dress as it falls to the floor, exposing half of your nudity in his hungry eyes. You swear you can feel his erection growing when his gaze lingers on your purple lace bra.

“And why can’t we?” The warmth of his palm sends another shiver through your body as he rubs the curvature of your bare ass in a deliberate motion of up-and-down. 

You press your palms down on the solid surface in front of you for support, feeling weakened as the desire burning within you is consuming the edges of your sanity, your back arching at the relentless burn of his touch on your body. “B-Because I’m just your sugar baby.” You manage to utter despite getting breathless.

Something inside of him snaps as soon as those words leave your lips, and before you know it, Jay deftly turns you around and lifts you up by the waist while your head spins at the escalation. Your body instantly shivers at the sensation of a cool surface beneath you before finding yourself seated on his vanity table. 

His figure remains towering over you, imposing and reeking of sensual dominance that has you preening for submission, but your eyes fall to his lips instead. He slots himself in between your legs before you can close them. You feel the weight of his gaze on your face while you remain meekly avoidant.

Jay grabs you by the chin, his grip firmly assertive as he forces you to make eye contact. “Look at me in the eyes and tell me that I’m just your sugar daddy.” His voice is nowhere near harsh or rough, but firm enough to mean business, and yet there is an underlying plea. “Tell me, doll.”

Your heart beats in a familiar rhythm on the day when the profound clarity dawned on you at the realisation of your true feelings for your sugar daddy, and yet your tongue sits heavily in your mouth because you know that you don’t deserve to harbour romantic feelings for someone like him, someone so perfect who doesn’t deserve the broken you who carries a lot of emotional baggage since forever.

Instead of telling him what he wants to hear, you take him by surprise, swiftly pulling him by the nape and slamming your lips into his. You shove down the bitter truth of your feelings and allow the pure lust to reign in dominance in the way you kiss him feverishly.

The irresistible allure of your lips compels him to reciprocate with equal eagerness, shivers rippling through him as you begin to get handsy with unbuttoning his blouse that feels as demanding as your kiss. “Doll.” He murmurs against your lips, his hands latching around your wrists to stop you just after you manage to free the last button of his blouse. 

“I need you so badly.” You protest with a needy whine, knowing that he still wants to hear you say those words, but you are being driven by your pure need for him to touch where you ache terribly the most. 

“But you haven’t told me—“ His words fall short when you grab his hand, making his head spin with dangerous thoughts as he feels the direct warmth of your pussy despite your undies being dampened by your arousal.

“I’m so wet.” You purr, dripping with seduction that is impossible for him to delay his own need in pleasuring you, and it doesn’t help with the way you spread your legs further while guiding his fingers to move in an up-and-down motion on your clothed clit that he can feel distinctly thanks to your wetness. “Need you to touch me here, daddy.”

“Fuck.” He curses harshly under his breath, his cock twitching delightfully at the label that feels illicit, and yet, he keens to hear from your sinful tongue again. “Call me that again.” He demands, allowing you to take control in the way you continue to use his fingers to rub your clothed clit while you rock your hips back and forth.

“Daddy.” You keen in a sensual slur, your sultry gaze never leaving his that seems to darken with something so primal, and yet his fingertips tracing on your skin move with practiced patience before sliding under the material of your undies. You nearly moan out, hips slightly stuttering from the sensitivity when the padding of his fingers makes direct contact with your clit.

Jay stifles a groan, his cock twitching again beneath the slacks at the sensation of your swollen clit, because damn, you’re practically soaked all over. “Even your clit is wet, doll. How needy are you?” Cruel amusement curls on the corner of his lips as he rubs your clit deliberately slow but effective enough to rouse the bundle of aching nerves.

Jay spreads the slick arousal on your clit with his finger, rubbing in a tantalising yet maddening circle, exasperating you. “Don’t tease.” You whine, your pretty eyes gloss with such neediness that send his head into a frenzy.

“I’ll do whatever I want to do to you.” His tone borders on mean, as does his demeanour, with no traces of the usual gentleness, and your eyes prick with tears at the loss of his fingers from your now-throbbing clit.

You open your mouth to speak, but he swiftly captures your lips in a searing kiss, all inhibitions thrown out of the window. Your hands move in urgency as they roam around the plane of his abdominal muscles, sending pleasurable shivers through him. He is completely insatiable, deepening the kiss like he wants to imprint his soul on yours.

Jay pulls you by the hips until your wet core presses into his erection, eliciting a breathy moan from you that he greedily swallows. You obediently part your lips open for his tongue to lick every inch while you slowly gain momentum in grinding your weeping, clothed pussy into his girthy erection; each friction on your clit feels more pleasurable than the previous.

“Jay.” You moan breathily as soon as he pulls away from your lips, only for him to trace an ardent path down to your neck with his lips that amplifies your senses. You arch into his touch that feels possessive; each grip and squeeze on your curves feels like a reminder that you’re his.

“You’re mine, doll.” He rasps against your skin, his low rumble sending vibrations through your neck. He kisses the previous hickey on your neck wetly before hovering his lips over yours and kissing you hard. “Mine to kiss, mine to fuck, and mine to love.” His gravelly timbre shocks you to the core as he growls out in between the kisses.

Without breaking the heated lip-lock, Jay lifts you from the vanity table with ease while your legs instinctively wrap around his waist. He carries you over to his king-sized bed, his fingers squeezing your plump ass intermittently. He groans lowly into your mouth at the pleasurable sensation of your fingers tugging his now-dishevelled hair.

“Fuck me.” Your demand sounds like a pathetic plea that brings a smirk to his lips before he bites down on the plush of your lower lip, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

“Where are your manners, doll?” He grunts against your lips, taking you by surprise next with a harsh smack in the ass, causing your body to jolt in his hold.

“Please fuck me, daddy.” You plead softly, feeling both intimidated and highly aroused by the intoxicating dominance he exudes.

In the haze of your lust for him, you can barely register the impact of being thrown on his bed before recovering as you turn around, only for your pussy to throb at the sight of him towering over you by the bed as he lazily peels off his blouse with his dark eyes penetrating into yours before you feel a magnetic sensation pulling your gaze down.

The desire in your eyes is palpable as you feast on his fine glory in keen appreciation. You already know that underneath every one of his luxurious apparel conceals his broad physique, but as he presents half of his nudity to you now, you conclude that he must have hit the gym often in his spare time despite being a busy businessman. His defined muscles are a testament to his diligent work at the gym, and you desire to feel them under your touch.

“My eyes are up here, doll.” Amusement laces his authoritative tone, and yet he receives no response from you, your hungry eyes roaming on his glory elevates his pride as his hard work at the gym has evidently paid off.

You bite down your lower lip, your eyes lingering on the delicious sight of his V-line dipping behind the slacks. You want, no wait, you need to feel every inch of him. But before you can make a move, Jay pulls you closer to him by the legs as his stature gradually lowers, making your breath hitch in anticipation.

“Jay!” Your shocked exclamation comes immediately as soon as he tears the fabric of your undies roughly, his unrivalled strength rendering it flimsy. “That was my favourite!” You complain as you watch him toss aside torn fabric.

“It was getting in the way.” He grumbles in protest as he positions himself at the same eye level as your pussy. “I’ll buy you a few pairs.” He promises, but you are distracted by the bashful wave hitting you as his eyes are fixated on your perfectly waxed mount.

You attempt to close your legs, but he is swift enough to reign control over your flexibility as he spreads your legs apart with his palms firmly pressing into your inner thighs, presenting your bare pussy lewdly in his ravenous eyes.

“Fuck. Your pretty pussy really is soaking wet, doll.” His husky voice holds a palpable hunger, and his eyes are fixated on your pussy as he uses his fingers to spread the lips for a vivid view of your glistening arousal dripping. 

“Jay.” You gasp softly at the sensation of his warm lips pressing into your wet clit, hips nearly bucking up to gain some form of friction, but he pulls away. His cock feels borderline painful now, but he desires to prioritise your needs, which is pure torture for someone who hasn’t had pussy for four years.

Your leg twitches slightly from the sensitivity when he presses his thumb into your clit before stroking it lazily in mini circles. “I’ve been dying to get a taste of you.” He confesses, his eyes never leaving your preening pussy while he continues to tease your clit, rousing your bundle of nerves.

“You have?” You utter breathlessly, chest heaving up and down as you feel the room temperature rising from the manifestation of your desires. You fist the bedding when he places another kiss on your clit, but he doesn’t pull away.

“Mmhmm.” He hums while the vibrations send pleasurable shockwaves to your bundle of nerves. “Dreamed of tasting your gorgeous pussy every night.” His confession is accompanied by a hard lick on your clit, eliciting a surprised moan from you.

Jay groans huskily at the taste of your arousal on his tongue, and he knows that one taste is never enough. Without wasting a second, his tongue licks a broad stripe along your pussy lips that he journeys upward until your clit and gives it an obnoxious lick before repeating the actions, eventually sending your head in an intoxicating frenzy.

You quiver underneath his relentless tongue as he continues to stimulate your clit and his saliva that lathers your pussy lips while the sound of your pretty moans spurs him further. He sucks your clit with doubling efforts, tearing a moan from your lips before he dives into your cunt, his tongue now exploring your weeping hole. You roll your eyes from the pleasure, feeling his warm tongue so distinctly along the walls that it sends your head delirious.

“Pussy tastes so fucking good. I’m never letting go of you after this.” He growls into your cunt, adding more pleasure to the shockwaves rolling through your body. He rears back, eliciting a needy whimper from you as he leers at your pussy. “Can’t believe how drenched she already is even before cumming. So fucking needy for me.”

Jay delves into your cunt once more, but with stringent purpose while the chiselled bridge of his nose bumps your clit with the way he bops his head. You arch your back as you roll your hips into his skilled tongue, moans spilling from your lips as he continues to devour you with an insatiable hunger. You swear you can hear him moaning amidst the obscene sound of your sopping cunt and your moans filling his spacious bedroom.

Without letting up, Jay rubs your neglected yet swollen clit, amplifying your pleasure at the dual sensation of his tongue and his thumb while your moans pitch higher as you spread your legs even further with your arched back deepening, displaying such wanton neediness that goes straight to his cock. He swears he can come undone just by eating your pussy alone.

“I’m close!” You announce in a high-pitched whine, hips stuttering against his relentless thumb that is rubbing your clit hard with fervour while his tongue continues to fuck your hole. Before you know it, your orgasm comes in uncontrollable waves as you come undone violently on his tongue.

Instead of pulling away, Jay remains attached to your cunt, his tongue lapping up your slick release avidly while you marvel at the sight of your sugar daddy. You have been eaten out before, only because you requested it, but nothing like this, and you didn’t even have to ask him to do so. 

Sensing your gaze on his face, he looks up and meets your eyes as he finally comes to a stop, but not before placing a wet kiss on your clit that throbs faintly in response. “I could eat your pussy for hours, doll.”

“I doubt that.” You mutter, your voice slightly strained as you watch him rise. Your cheeks flush warmly as you notice that his nose, lips, and chin are glistening with your arousal under the dim yet sensual glow across the room.

With the way he runs his fingers through his dishevelled hair and his abdominal muscles present to you, the smirk on his lips and his dark eyes leering down at you, you think you could come undone again by this sight alone, because damn it, your sugar daddy is sinfully attractive. You don’t think you could ever find another man as attractive as him. 

“That was a promise, by the way.” He says, lowering himself again, and this time, he slides two fingers into your wet cunt, your slick arousal serving as a lubricant. You gasp, mouth agape and eyes rolling to the back, but it isn’t the stretch of your walls that brings out another high-pitched whine from you; it’s the way his thumb rubs your sensitive clit at a menacing pace.

“No! I’m still sensitive!” You protest weakly, writing underneath him, but the rolling movement of your hips only seems to amplify your sensitivity, involuntarily pressing your clit into his relentless thumb and allowing his fingers to delve deeper with each roll of your hips.

“No? Then why is she crying for my fingers?” He chuckles darkly, his demeanour absent of the usual gentleness or kindness. Having enough of you trying to escape, he deftly grabs both of your wrists and pins them above your head, his strength unrivalled. “Don’t be ungrateful, doll. Daddy is only giving your needy pussy what she needs. Look. She’s dripping all over my fingers again.”

You had no idea that Jay being condescending and mean could be so fucking hot when all of your wet fantasies consisted of him being a complete vanilla. Maybe he is, if you go further with him, but right now, the way he’s fucking you with his fingers feels just as unforgiving as his dark eyes penetrating into your teary ones.

“I can’t!” You protest again with an unwept sob, attempting to close your legs, but your defiance earns you a stern slap on your pussy that only seems to feel pleasurable while the wet squelch from the impact echoes off the walls. His dark eyes hold a silent command to open your legs, and you do so as you stifle a whimper when he plunges two fingers back into your hole.

“Yeah, you can. How else are you going to take my cock if you’re still so fucking tight?” He hisses under his breath at the resistance in your walls enveloping his fingers, but that doesn’t slow him down from fucking you at a steady pace. “You’ll take what I give you like the good fucking doll you are for daddy.” 

Though you remain obstinately tight, Jay knows that you are not a virgin, and the thought of another man's cock in your sweet pussy fuels his jealousy, impelling him to increase momentum that sends your head delirious once more. “Fuck! Jay!” You cry out, eliciting a smirk from him as he revels in the way you are falling apart only from his fingers alone.

“Come on, doll. Don’t disappoint daddy now.” He admonishes softly, his tone an underlying mockery, but you submit keenly to him. He leans down, bumping his nose affectionately against yours, humming. “Don’t you want to be my good girl?”

“I do.” You whimper, your kissable lips jutting into a small pout while your eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “Always want to be daddy’s good girl.” You keen, your voice breathless as each unyielding thrust from his skilled fingers alone knocks the air from you.

Jay places a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips, displaying a faux tenderness that has your pussy pulsating around him. “Then give me another one. I know you still have it in you.” He commands sternly.

A series of moans and whines emits from you as you accept this agonising pleasure that renders you keening for more. Your hips move in tandem with his ruthless fingers with your curve in a perfect arch that hypnotises him. With his ruthless fingers working on both your hole and your clit, the knot forming in your tummy threatens to snap anytime. His fingers now curl in you, hitting that delicious spot with precision that triggers something powerful this time.

With the last of your moans echoing off the walls, the knot in your tummy imploded, followed by your release gushing out in clear fluids from your battered cunt, wetting the bedding beneath you, while your lips part open with a silent moan and your hips stuttering.

“Atta doll.” Jay grins, his eyes watching your cunt squirting for a little longer while his fingers never relent from pumping, emitting obscene squelches. Seeing as your legs quiver from the aftermath, he withdraws his fingers from you and rubs the outer side of your leg soothingly. “Did so good for me.”

Your heart flutters at his words, but you feel completely breathless, your chest heaving up and down as you slowly recover from the intensity of your orgasm. Holy shit. You have never squirted before throughout your past experiences.

Jay releases your wrists as he leans down to give a kiss below your belly button. You watch him silently as he continues with his kisses along your body, your heart fluttering again at how every kiss feels reverent, until you decide to earn his attention with a tug on the wrist.

“Kiss.” You plead softly as you latch your hands on his neck to pull him to your face. Maybe it’s the way he kisses, or the texture of his lips, but you have grown so addicted to his kisses that you fantasise of kissing him every day.

“So needy for my kisses too.” He chuckles lightly with a reserved adoration for you before he dips his head down and kisses you deeply on the lips. He lets you take control over the kiss, smirking at the obvious hunger with the way your lips move against his and your fingers haphazardly running through his hair.

You break the lip-lock first, intending to return the pleasure as you work on his pants with your hands, but he stops you with a gentle grab on the wrist. “What about you?” You ask with genuine confusion as you sit up because guys would usually want the favour back.

Jay shakes his head. “It’s alright, doll. Some other time instead.” He says softly despite his tone being definitively firm. As much as he would love to feel your mouth taking his cock, he can’t waste any second as he desires to be buried in your cunt.

“But—” You are silenced by his lips as he kisses you hard while his hands work on peeling the last of his garments.

“Shh.” He shushes you when you part open your lips into the kiss. He pulls away, his once-softened eyes now darkening with a familiar hunger that rouses excitement within you. “Get on all fours for me now.”

You obey his command, turning around with your hands and knees pressing into the bedding as you wait for him with nervous anticipation, because from the look of his erection beneath the slacks alone earlier, you are certain that he may be bigger than your last fling.

You feel him tapping your hip, a signal for you to crawl forward as you feel the bedding dip from behind you. You decide to get comfortable as you lower your upper body, which causes your back to arch sensually while you spread your legs a little further until he has the erotic view of your holes, his eyes darkening with appreciation.

Now bare of any garment, Jay grabs the base of his cock and brings it closer to your pussy, but instead of going straight for your hole, he teases you with repeated taps of the bulbous head on the wet folds, eliciting whines from you while sparks of sensitivity shoot through him from the mere contact of his slit with your pussy lips.

“I know, I know. Needy for daddy’s cock, aren’t ya?” He coos, familiar mockery lacing his tone that borders on cruel. He aims the tip at your slightly gaping hole and inserts it agonisingly slowly, but he doesn’t go all the way. Instead, he thrusts only the bulbous head into your stretched hole experimentally. “But are you sure you can handle it?”

Your whines are full of impatience and frustration as he prolongs his teasing. “I can—“ 

The air is knocked out of your lungs with one swift shove of his cock into you without warning, your lips agape while your eyes prick with tears at the painful stretch of your walls trying to accommodate to his sheer girth. You have underestimated his size, because damn, he is massive to the point where you feel instantly full, and raw.

“Damn, baby. You're still so tight. Did I not prep you enough?” He groans huskily, his hand seeking your waist for leverage. He does an experimental thrust before he stills his hips and allows you to adjust. He drags his finger along the perfect arch of your back, sending shivers through your spine. “But my doll can take my cock, yeah?”

A moan leaves your lips as soon as he delivers a single thrust, his movement measured and controlled, as though he is mastering self-restraint for your sake as you still struggle to adjust, but devoid of prior pain, only a tad uncomfortable.

“You’re so big.” You breathe out, moaning softly at the delicious sensation of his girth dragging along your walls slowly as he does a pull-and-push motion repeatedly, allowing you to feel the ridges and veins protruding from his cock.

Jay smirks at your remark, feeling a sense of pride. “Don’t worry, doll. I’ll make sure to train your pussy to take my cock with ease, but for now,” He grunts as he delivers hard thrusts that have your body shaking from the impact, his balls hitting your ass in the process. “Let daddy use your pussy however he wants.”

You become pliant immediately, falling dumb the instant he proceeds to fuck you with wild abandon, each thrust unforgiving and each stroke hitting deeper than the previous while more moans spill from your lips. The pain is replaced by pleasure as his cock stretches your walls deliciously, and you swear you can feel your lower abdomen bulging with each thrust.

His hands are attached to your waist in a way that makes you feel like you’re his fleshlight, and that turns you on even more, prompting you to spread your legs, which makes your ass stick out while he can’t resist smacking the supple of your ass. His breath goes ragged with low moans and grunts occasionally escaping him as he relishes the wonderful sensation of your cunt being battered by his cock.

The way Jay is fucking you feels borderline animalistic in such a short span of time, but something tugs within you, as though it is telling you that this is not just your sugar daddy fucking you simply because he desires you — this is a man who has been deprived of satiating his raw, sexual needs for years.

“Harder, daddy.” You manage to utter a moan quickly, eliciting a scoff from him before you find yourself losing strength to hold your upper body at the forceful impact of his thrusts, your face and chest pressing down into the bedding, but your ass remains sticking high.

“You want it harder? Like this?” He growls under his breath, slamming his hips into yours hard while each thrust of his cock reaches your cervix, rendering you nearly cross-eyed from the overwhelming pleasure. His dark eyes feast on your body, being completely pliant under him, before watching the way his cock, now lathered by your slick arousal, disappears and reappears lewdly from your cunt, the sight so hypnotic that it spurs him further.

Your breath hitches in your throat at the persistent fullness of his girth from the way he delivers shallow thrusts while your body shakes and often lurches forward from the hard impact. “S-Slow down—” 

“Take what daddy is giving you like the good slut you are for me.” He cuts you off with another growl, his voice ladening with primal hunger. He groans as soon as your cunt clenches like crazy around him. “Oh? You like being called my slut?” 

Your cunt clenches around his cock again, sending his head into a frenzy. “Your cockslut, daddy.” You moan out keenly, loving the idea of your sugar daddy being derogatory to you.

“My cockslut will do anything just to get daddy to fuck her like this, yeah?” He sneers, his hand landing a harsh smack on your ass while you shriek at the impact. His eyes darken as he recalls the repulsive sight of another man’s hands on your delicate skin earlier, fuelling a thundering emotion that goes beyond jealousy. “That’s why you had to piss me off by flirting with my best friend.”

“Nngh! Daddy!” Your fingers desperately seek purchase in front of you, needing to ground yourself from his relentless thrusts as he fucks you with a brutal intensity, eliciting screams and moans that border on sobs, tears escaping your eyes, and yet you love every second of this.

Without letting up his thrusts, Jay leans forward and braces his arms next to your head into a plank-like position, but he is careful enough not to crush you with his weight. “Got me fucking riled up when he held you like you’re his.” He snarls next to your ear, his gravelly timbre ladening with an unmistakable possessiveness that resonates deeply to your core. “You’re fucking mine, doll.”

You moan out in response, unable to formulate your words as his shallow thrusts only seem to deprive you of coherency while the new position allows you to feel his cock deeper than the previous. You can feel his abdominal muscles subtly flexing against your skin as he presses his body into yours. His warmth and natural scent melding with yours create a new wave of intoxication that you desire to bask in.

But Jay isn’t satisfied with your lack of response. His fingers encircle your throat, applying the perfect pressure to your pulse that emphasises his dominance as he earns your attention. “Say it.” He grunts into your ear, his hot yet ragged breath fanning the shell of your earlobe. “Say that you’re mine.”

“Y-Yours!” You manage to utter in between staggering breaths, your cunt clenching around him when he tightens his fingers around your throat, a silent command that you immediately grasp. “I’m always yours, daddy!”

“That’s fucking right.” He bottoms out hard with his body slamming you down, causing your clit to gain friction as it often makes contact with the bedding. He fucks you like he intends to ruin you. “All mine. Never forget that.”

His fingers now loosen but remain attached around your neck, allowing you to turn sideways to meet his eyes. “Jay.” You moan softly with half-lidded eyes as you look at his parted lips. “Kiss me, please.”

Jay silently complies, angling his head for his lips to meet yours in a perfect fit with his hand cupping your jaw while your hand seeks to grab his dishevelled hair loosely. You moan into the kiss when his tip hits the spot while he forces his tongue into your panting mouth, exchanging lewd yet lazy kisses with tongues dancing in a twisted tango.

Even when your lungs burn, you refuse to detach yourself from his lips, and so you continue to kiss him while he every so often devours every inch of your hot cavern, sucking and biting your plump lips that become swollen. Each time he deepens the kiss, it feels as though the connection you have with him deepens too, the same way his cock lodges deeper into your cunt.

“Can feel you clenching around my cock, doll.” He rasps against your wet, swollen lips before slowly pulling away as he feels your cunt clenching rapidly, a telltale sign of your imminent release. He decides to amplify your pleasure as he sneaks his hand underneath your body to find your clit before rubbing it hard. “You’re close, yeah?”

You are teetering on the precipice, knowing that it is only a matter of time as his cock relentlessly bullies your battered insides while his thumb on your clit ignites an overwhelming sensitivity. “Oh my god!” You sob out, your body writhing and convulsing under him as the band in your tummy threatens to snap.

“Come for me, my slutty doll.” He lets out a guttural growl, and on his command, you tumble over the edge of ecstasy with your eyes rolling to the back while a broken moan leaves you. But he doesn’t stop, even when your essence is bathing his cock.

You hear his breathing frenziedly ragged while his thrusts begin to fall in an inconsistent momentum, alerting you of his incoming arrival. “I-In me—“ You utter weakly, your hand latching on his muscular bicep. “Come in me, please.”

“Are you sure?” He asks in a strained grunt, unable to prolong his orgasm that teeters on the same precipice as yours.

You hum needily. “Want daddy’s cum to fill my pussy so bad.” You whine, receiving a chaste kiss from him on the cheek.

“I’ll give you my cum, alright. Daddy will fill you with his cum all night, till your sweet pussy can’t take it.” His promise has your cunt squeezing him keenly, eliciting another cuss from him before he sinks his teeth into your shoulder. With one last earth-shattering thrust, he matches the crescendo of your release, his hips smacking into you and going completely still as he fills you to the brim.

As the last of ecstasy in the air wanes, Jay releases your shoulder that now bears his teeth mark before giving it a kiss. Though your walls remain clinging around him, he unsheathes his cock from you, drawing whines from you as his girth drags along your battered walls tantalisingly slowly until you feel nothing except the union of your fluids.

Jay stifles a lustful groan, his cock twitching in demand for another round at the hypnotic visual of your hole instinctively pushing out white fluids, but he needs to see your face while he holds you. “Come here, doll.” 

Despite your aching limbs, you force yourself to turn around just in time to see him hovering over you before he seals you in a breathtaking kiss that has you moaning softly into his mouth, his tongue tenderly caressing yours. With your arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he carries you effortlessly and settles himself with you seated on his lap while he leans against the headboard with his legs sprawled out.

Sensing you need air, Jay breaks the lip-lock, his eyes shifting to your gorgeous chest, darkening with appreciation. “I knew this purple lace bra would look gorgeous on you.” He says, leaning down to map his kisses across your chest while you feel his fingers caressing your back. “But your tits look better without them.”

Jay takes you by surprise when he expertly unclips your bra with one hand. “You’re skilled.” You compliment him as you rest your hands on his shoulders, but your tone holds a bitterness of something that has him smirking while he helps you in removing your bra. “Had experiences?” Your question is laced with sarcasm. 

Jay rears his head back to get a better look at your pouty countenance that you try hard to conceal with impassivity, but he can see through you. “Is that jealousy I sense?” His question is absent of genuine curiosity, more of a taunt.

You muster the sweetest smile you can, albeit it feels tight on your face muscles. “Hardly. Besides, I’ve had my fair share of flings.” You confess nonchalantly, smirking lightly as you see his eyes darkening familiarly.

But your confidence falters when he squeezes your ass tight while the other goes cupping your tit. “Your tight pussy could’ve fooled me.” He says calmly, using his thumb to rub your nipple that slowly hardens.

You stifle a moan as you feel sensitivity shooting through your body with each nipple rub. “You’re not jealous?” You ask breathlessly, your back arching into his touch as he cups both tits with his palms. 

A smirk touches his lips, his eyes glinting darkly with confidence. “Hardly. Besides, my cock will be the last ever to be buried in your sweet pussy.” 

You chuckle breathily while you have him briefly mesmerised by the irresistible smile on your lips. “Confident now, are we?” 

“It’s not confident, doll.” He retorts in an attractive drawl, and his smirk widens as he manages to draw out a soft moan from you with the way his fingers manipulate your tits. “Because I know that your pussy will only be satisfied with my cock alone after tonight. You’ll be begging for more.”

“Don’t get too cocky now.” You mutter as you roll your hips into him, his cock gaining its vitality with each contact of your tummy. You can’t resist grabbing the base of his cock, earning a lustful groan from him as he tilts his head back. “Who knows I may change my mind?”

“And yet, you’re desperate for my cock again.” He takes you by surprise when his mouth quickly connects to your nipple, sucking and licking it deliberately slowly despite his hunger roaring at him to devour your tits that had been in his wet dreams.

“S-Shut up.” You stutter just as the way your hips do, your pelvis pressing into his while you silently marvel at how fast his cock has gone rock solid. You take another glance at his cock that has your pussy preening, and he is the biggest you have ever taken. 

Jay releases your nipple with a wet ‘pop’ before making a disapproving tut under his breath. “Where did your manners go?” He says roughly at the same time he slaps your tit, causing you to jolt from the impact.

The flare of defiance in your eye dwindles as he slaps your tits again. “I’m sorry.” You whimper, and yet you push your tits out keenly for him to abuse your tits as they jiggle with each slap, enjoying the pain that comes with pleasure.

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it. Ride me.” He commands sternly as he gives your ass a hard squeeze. “Show me how desperate you are for my cock.”

You do so without delay, wanting to please your sugar daddy. You lift yourself up, one hand on his shoulder while the other grabs the base of his cock as you attempt to align it to your excited cunt. With a shaky breath, you slowly sink on him but with obvious difficulty as your walls struggle to accommodate his sheer girth.

“Is my cock too big for you? Look how you’re struggling to take me again.” He smiles smugly as he watches you evidently struggling, taking your time while you grit your teeth in annoyance at his mockery. “Need some help, doll?”

“I can do it. I just need—“ Your breath hitches as soon as the entirety of his girth manages to snuggle in your cunt while the intrusion causes the union of your cum with his trickling down profusely, smearing his thighs, but he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Damn. I’m never going to get tired of your sweet pussy.” His husky voice is raw with lust. He squeezes your tits for good measure before leaning against the headboard leisurely. “Now ride me.”

With a whimper, you do as he tells you, rocking your hips back and forth despite your walls stretching painfully from his girth. Your hands seek for purchase on his shoulders, stabilising yourself as your head spins at the sheer fullness that has you clenching around him, and yet he seems composed, watching you intently with dark amusement. 

The pain eventually subsides, leaving only pleasure that slowly builds up within you with the help of your clit grazing against his abs, creating a delicious friction while he occasionally kneads your tits before alternating between sucking and licking your nipples, but it isn’t enough for you to attain the heights of pleasure you desperately seek. You huff and puff, to which he finds quite adorable despite the sensual movement of your irresistible body, as you find yourself riding him harder and faster deliberately, hoping that he would get the damn hint.

But nothing changes except the eventual exertion seeping into your muscles from your relentless effort alone, prompting you to falter in your momentum. Seeing the tears gathering in your lash line, he smirks cruelly, knowing exactly what. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m tired, and you’re making me do all the work!” You complain, your kissable lips quivering and jutting into a pout that has him caving into your need.

“It’s what you deserved after flirting with my best friend.” He reminds you sternly, his hands finding placement on your waist as he helps you to rock back and forth on his swelling cock, eventually switching to a different rhythm that has you bouncing on his cock instead.

“You’re still mad about it?” You moan out as you begin to feel the tension coiling in your tummy with each thrust of his cock that buries to the hilt each time he pulls you down with a wet splat mingling with your bated breaths. “I-I thought we were past that.”

“Oh, we were never past that, not until you come to understand that you’re mine.” His rough voice holds a familiar possessiveness as he recalls. His fingers dig into your flesh as he bucks his hips up into you stringently, drawing more moans from you. “And I’m a very jealous man, doll.”

With a harsh slap to your ass, Jay proceeds to fuck the remnants of his pent-up emotions into your battered cunt that produces obscene squelches and splats of your skin meeting due to each relentless thrust as he picks up the speed, rendering you in complete shock at his stamina. He is practically jackhammering his cock into you with an impressive consistency. 

His dark eyes never leave your face that contorts beautifully into sheer pleasure with your head tilted back, your mouth agape, your eyes rolling to the back as you lose yourself in the sheer pleasure, sweat trickling down your jaw, your tainted neck with his hickeys a testament to his ownership. He has dreamed of having you like this.

Jay leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your every moan and breath, his head going into a frenzy as your cunt pulsating around him is a familiar telltale sign of your imminent release, highly infectious to his cock that teeters on the verge of the same release.

With another fierce thrust, Jay pulls you down by the hips at the same time he bucks his hips up, burying his cock to the hilt that sends an intense shockwave through your body, essentially triggering your teetering climax as you arch your back sharply with a wanton moan leaving you, your climax hitting you in torrential waves.

But Jay continues to thrust his cock into you, even after your release has coated his cock and is leaking messily from the persistent friction. You paw at his muscular pecs for reprieve. “I know, I know. Just a little more.” He grunts against your parted lips as you whine out your sensitivity.

With one last thrust, Jay lodges his cock to the hilt once more, hips going still as he moans deeply into your mouth, lips grazing against each other but not quite kissing, his orgasm washing over him like a torrent of ecstasy and his load filling your womb to the brim. His cock remains nestled in your cunt, feeling it gradually soften.

Wordlessly, Jay presses another kiss to your lips, one that you weakly reciprocate, before leaning his forehead against yours, your breaths mingling. You shudder lightly as he caresses your back in a soothing motion before falling languid against him. Even the sweat glistening on his skin doesn’t deter you from snuggling into him, your cheek pressing into his shoulder, basking in this temporary blissful afterglow.

“So it worked.” You break the serene silence as you utter quietly, and yet he can discern an underlying sense of amused satisfaction in your tone, earning a brow raised from him.

“What do you mean?” He asks in between the kisses he delivers to your crown and forehead while his arms around you feel like an affectionate embrace between lovers.

With your palms on his muscular pecs, you push yourself away from him to meet his confused eyes directly, mischief playing at the curl of your lips. “It was my intention to make you jealous, but I didn’t expect you to be genuinely jealous like that.”

Jay scoffs at your cheeky confession. “Were you trying to get back at me because of those ladies at the gala?” He probes with a playful accusation, but his eyes are steely with fierce conviction. “They don’t matter to me, not in the slightest. Irrelevant.”

“Partly,” You confess again with a simper smile while your heart flutters keenly at his words. Your fingers absentmindedly trace along the ridges of his abdominal muscles, sending perpetual shivers through him. “But the main reason was to get you to fuck me.”

“By making me jealous?” He gives you an incredulous stare despite the amusement in his tone, but something shifts in his demeanour dangerously, causing your senses to be on high alert. “That was a bad strategy, doll. You should’ve told me that you wanted me to fuck you instead.”

You become hyperaware of his predatory gaze penetrating into you, but you play off your nervousness with a chuckle. “Nah. It’s way more fun to make you jealous instead.” You attempt to push yourself off him, but his arms feel like a cage of lust as you feel a palpable tension brewing from the manifestation of his primal hunger for you.

“Trust me, you do not want to make me jealous, doll.” It all happens spontaneously, because you can barely register the escalation that renders your head dizzy from the way he manoeuvres to a position where he hovers over you, his broad frame preventing you from any form of escape.

“Jay—“ Your breath hitches while your pussy flutters around him as he begins to fuck you again with a renewed vigour, each ferocious thrust stealing your breath away. 

“Because this is what happens when you provoke me.” He growls out as he punctuates each word with an unforgiving thrust while his hips snap into yours painfully, and you sure are forming bruises by now, and yet, you desperately meet his every thrust.

His dark eyes glaring into your teary ones, a twisted satisfaction blooming in his chest as he watches you already falling apart from the instant overstimulation. He rears back to grab your leg and places it over his shoulder, hiding his surprise at your flexibility while the new angle allows him to fuck you deeply.

“No more gentleman Jay you thought I always was, doll.” His gravelly timbre is drowned out by your sweet moans and cries. His fingers go circling around your neck firmly, demanding your attention on him as you force your eyes to lock with his. “I’m going to fuck you till you remember who you belong to.”

And he does, pistoning his cock into your battered cunt relentlessly, but with brutal precision that has you seeing stars, borderline animalistic as though his hunger hasn’t been appeased after fucking you twice before this.

“Right there!” You moan out as soon as his tip hits the spongy spot that has your back arching sharply with each relentless thrust. With your arms wrapped around his broad back, your fingernails rake on his skin haphazardly, sending pleasurable sensations through him.

“I’m going to ruin you, doll.” He says darkly as he squeezes your neck, his tone holding a promise that both excites and unnerves you.

“All yours to ruin, daddy.” You sob out keenly, hiccups leaving your lips intermittently while your every sense is consumed by the overwhelming pleasure from his cock alone.

“My good girl loves to please me, yeah?” He rasps, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on your lips, a stark contrast to the way his cock hammers into your sensitive cunt that feels devastating.

“Wanna please daddy all the time.” You utter brokenly, a single tear rolling down your cheek, to which he abandons your neck to wipe your rolling tears away affectionately.

“You always have, babydoll.” He croons, and you nearly physically purr at his adoring admission. He rears back just slightly and places his palm on your bulging lower abdomen. “Feel me here, doll? Looks like daddy’s cock is made perfectly just for you.” You nod your head mindlessly, unable to formulate coherent sentences.

In the intoxicating haze of lust, you grasp the opportunity to admire his very attractive face — his hair completely dishevelled and damp with sweat that also trickles down his sideburns, pure lust swimming in the depths of his eyes, his angular jawline seeming more defined, and his every feature and muscle taut with tension. A smirk touches his lips briefly as he catches you staring at him before increasing the intensity of his ruthless momentum.

“I can’t! It’s too much!” You sob out, your cunt clenching hard around him, and yet he manages to pound his cock into you with ease before driving you to the edge of sanity when his thumb rubs your clit with an unsparing vehemence, intensifying the band of your climax within you.

“Nothing is too much for this slutty pussy.” He growls, never faltering as each thrust is unyielding bringing him to greater heights of ecstasy while relishing the wet warmth of your cunt. “I haven’t even filled you up with my cum yet.” He groans before leaning down and taking your nipple in his mouth.

You are completely at his mercy, every assault of his cock, his mouth, and his fingers on your body alighting your nerves that send you to a state of complete euphoria, the world fading into insignificance. A litany of moans, cries, and screams emits from you, your coherent thoughts now fragmented from his relentless thrusts that have your whole body trembling beneath him.

Your tears are a silent plea for respite, but the pain that comes with pleasure feels beyond addicting, rendering you an insatiable cockslut for him as you roll your hips to meet his overpowering ones. You push your chest outward, enticing him to lick and bite your nipples that amplifies the pleasure coursing through you.

Jay is practically worshipping your tits despite his cock drilling into your battered cunt feeling punishing, enjoying the sensation of your perky nipples on his tongue and the fullness of your tits that prompts him to squeeze one before slapping it again. His back burns from your raking fingernails, but it only intensifies his insatiable hunger to fuck you with reckless abandon.

The band in your tummy becomes unbearable as it threatens to snap, and so with a loud moan, you surrender to the intensity of your orgasmic release while a familiar yet uncontrollable sensation surges through you as your eyes go white.

Jay watches with dark satisfaction as you squirt profusely even when he doesn’t relent from thrusting his cock into your ruined cunt while his thumb never relents from rubbing your clit, your obnoxious release soaking him and the sheets beneath you.

With a deep moan from his chest, he surrenders to the overwhelming pleasure as he delivers one last thrust that hits your battered cervix deliciously before going completely still, pressing his hips into yours. He lowers your sore leg, giving you the impression that it is over as he slowly withdraws his cock from you.

Just as you intend to close your legs, Jay spreads them further apart, exposing your ruined cunt lewdly. A whimper leaves you as he uses the tip of his cock to tap your clit repeatedly. He smirks down at you. “You didn’t think that we were done, did you?”

After that, hours feel like a blissful eternity as the two of you succumb to the abyss of sheer pleasure, losing yourselves in the heady mix of sweat, lust, and the unadulterated smell of sex, staining his once pristine king-sized bed. Your body constantly craves both pain and pleasure, allowing him to fuck you in every position possible where he can see your face, desiring to watch as you fall apart before he puts back the pieces just for him to repeat the intoxicating cycle.

But eventually, the intensity of your sex marathon dwindles, shifting into something unfamiliarly tender that you have never felt throughout your past experiences, because the way he is fucking you now feels as though he is making love.

“Look at you. Weren’t you crying earlier about how it’s too much?” He teases, smirking down at you as you keenly meet his slow yet shallow thrusts.

“Shut up.” You moan out, not bothered by the embarrassing crack in your strained voice. You latch your hand on his bicep, feeling his muscles flexing beneath your touch. “Love your cock in me.”

“I know you do, doll.” He chuckles breathily before kissing you on the lips sweetly without faltering his momentum while you tangle your fingers in his damp strands, pulling him down until his chest presses into your tits as you seek the closeness.

“I’m close.” You whimper into the kiss, your heart fluttering at each tender caress of his lips on yours while the knot in your tummy is prepared to unravel for the last time.

“Me too, baby.” He rasps against your lips before pulling away and burying his head into the nook of your neck. His arm slides underneath your body to encase you, pulling you closer while his thrusts begin to stutter as he is teetering on the precipice. “Let it go for me, love.”

With a hard flick of his thumb on your clit and on his affectionate command, you surrender to the overwhelming release, your back arching off the mattress as you roll your eyes at the same time he tumbles over the edge of ecstasy, his hips going still as they press into yours while he fills you to the brim for the last time, finally attaining the pinnacle of your pleasures.

Your legs around his waist tremble tremendously from the aftermath while you convulse beneath him. You whimper out at the sensation of his cock dragging along your battered walls as he intends to pull out quickly, leaving your cunt empty but smeared from the union of your fluids.

Jay settles next to you, and though the exhaustion is hitting him like a freight train, he seeks to comfort you after doing a number on you, but when he turns to face you, you are already seeking his warmth without his help as you move closer before wrapping your arms around his torso. Your eyes linger on his chest and neck that are decorated by fresh scratch marks and some hickeys; each was your doing.

Feeling satisfied by your artwork on this fine masterpiece, you decide to relax in his warm embrace, his arm cradling your head while the other is around your waistline, his fingers caressing your skin tenderly. You gaze into his dreamy eyes that have been staring at your face. “Hi.” You whisper, gracing a small yet playful smile on your lips.

Jay cracks into a grin, making him look a decade younger. “Hi, honey.” He coos as he cradles your face, his thumb stroking your cheek tenderly.

“That was amazing.” You confess earnestly, because indeed, that was the best sex you ever had, and he even has more stamina compared to the guys your age do. Sabrina was right — the older they are, the more experienced and better they are in bed.

His grin turns smug, to which you playfully narrow your eyes. “Better than your past experiences?” He asks with genuine curiosity, because honestly, he did have some thoughts about whether or not he met your standards despite his outward confidence.

“Way better. But I think you broke me.” You say half-jokingly, but really, he completely wrecked you, rendering every part of your muscle tremendously sore that even lifting a limb feels like a gruelling chore.

For a fleeting moment, concern swirls in his irises as he scans you. “Nonsense. You’re perfect.” He says so sincerely without hesitation.

Something so different yet tangled with familiarity stirs in your heart. “Really?”

He hums, leaning down to kiss your forehead again. “You’re always perfect in my eyes, doll.” He murmurs, his eyes gleaming with affection as he gazes at you. His lips curl into a smile as you adorably snuggle into his bare chest. “As much as I would love to cuddle with you, daddy has to take care of you now.”

You tilt your head up, casting him a smirk. “So you have a thing referring to yourself as ‘daddy’ now, huh?”

He narrows his eyes at you playfully before smacking your ass cheek, eliciting a small yelp from you. “I should be the one asking you that.” 

“Well, it seems fitting since you’re technically my sugar daddy.” You say with a thoughtful hum, oblivious to the bitterness painting his countenance that goes by quickly when you return your gaze to him.

“Right.” He chuckles dryly, hoping that he isn’t obvious enough to give away the bitterness that lingers within him. He raises an inquisitive eyebrow at you. “Was I the first you called ‘daddy’?”

“The first and last.” You affirm with a grin, and he can’t resist kissing your nose; how you can switch between adorable and sensual still amazes him. You exchange kisses with him before he decides to untangle himself from you, being careful enough as your limbs are still entirely sore.

“Wait here. I’ll fill up the bathtub for us.” He informs you before walking away from you. Your eyes fall to his bare back before quickly turning away, your cheeks flushing warmly as the visual of his entire bare back is now committed to your memory.

You let the time pass quickly by taking a momentary rest with your eyes closed until you feel your body being manoeuvred before finding yourself being carried by strong arms, prompting you to snap your eyes open in surprise. Your eyes roam around his perfect side profile, admiring how perfectly sculpted his handsome face is.

“You know, you’re the first to ever show courtesy by providing aftercare.” You speak up as soon as he submerges into the filled bathtub with you, the warm temperature seeping into your sore muscles instantly. You find yourself seated on his lap sideways, allowing you to look directly into his eyes. “Thank you.”

His eyes soften at your earnest gratitude, but it doesn’t allay his dissatisfaction upon hearing your confession. “It seems that you had a pretty shitty taste in men, doll, because providing aftercare is actually a bare minimum.” He remarks, but his tone holds no malice, only an underlying indignation on behalf of you despite you not looking the slightest bit upset about your past experience.

“At least I have finally developed the right taste in men now.” You defend yourself, grinning cheekily at him, which brings out an amused exhalation from him while he reaches out for the shampoo bottle at the side. You watch him open it and squeeze the perfect amount of liquid into his palm.

“I’m the only and last man you’ll ever be with.” He says, lathering the liquid with his palms before applying it to your hair and massaging your scalp, but he pauses as he looks at you with a serious gaze. “Unless you have any objections?”

“No. I quite like being with you.” You confess, your grin melting to a smile so soft while your eyes sparkle with genuine adoration as you look at him. “And I like you, Jay.”

His lips curl into a smile while his heart faintly throbs. “I know.” Of course, you like him since he’s your sugar daddy.

You take him by surprise as you throw your arms around his neck, the water around you splashing in the process. “I really, really like you.” You confess again with strong emphasis.

“I like you too, doll.” He reciprocates with such sincerity, his hands descending to your waistline before hugging you close to him. “I always have since day one. I like you a little too much.” He doesn’t even care that he might have fucked things up with you by confessing the truth, because really, he liked you at first sight.

Butterflies flutter wildly in your tummy at his confession, and yet, you don’t dare to breach the unspoken boundary that remains, what you truly mean to him. Instead, you lean closer to him, your tits pressing into his chest as you angle your head to an irresistible tilt. “Kiss me?”

Jay smirks briefly before dipping his head down and kissing you sweetly on the lips. He thinks that your lips alone are enough to forget his problems, how he wishes to bask in you forever, his newfound safe haven from the cold world he has been surviving ever since he embarked on a journey where he had only himself to depend on except his best friend.

“Sore.” You sigh against his lips before falling languid as you lean dependently into him. “Too tired to move.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” He murmurs, being ever so tender with you, his hand rubbing your back comfortingly. “You can depend on me, honey.” Because he knows more than anyone how easy it is to crumble without dependency on anyone trustworthy.

With each step you take, your sore thighs quiver, prompting you to hold onto the wall for support while every part of your muscles and joints is terrifically tender, but instead of staying in bed a little longer, you need food to recharge your energy after last night’s hours of passion that still feel like a wet dream of yours, but the hickeys decorating your skin and the instability in your tremendously aching limbs are testaments to his promise of reminding you that you’re his, your cheeks flushing warmly at the memory.

Despite your body screaming for respite, you continue your journey to the kitchen, following the delectable smell wafting in the air while also taking in the interior decor of his sumptuous home, the muted colours a stark contrast to your colourful apartment, but charmingly minimalist that reminds you of the owner himself. Your heart instantly flutters at the thought of him, and the flutters intensify as you stop by the kitchen’s entryway.

With a silent wince, you take another step forward before you lean sideways against the wall with arms folded below your chest, watching him in silence as he gets immersed in his element with his broad, handsome back facing you. You find yourself smiling despite the untamed butterflies in your tummy, swooning over the domestic sight of your sugar daddy, who no doubt will be an ideal husband.

The black polo shirt fits his physique perfectly and displays his toned arms for your eyes to feast on, even more so when you catch the mere sight of his golden Rolex on his wrist. He nearly looks unrecognisable with his raven hair unfettered, the volume and some wispy strands hovering over his forehead making it look like he has his hair permed. In fact, he looks a decade younger.

“You might want to take a picture if you intend to stare at me all day. It’ll last longer.” Jay says without taking a glance at you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your cheeks flare with embarrassment, wondering how he can feel your silent presence when he’s been too immersed in cooking. Nevertheless, when your eyes meet his amused ones, you greet him with a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

Your tone sounds delicate as to the way you look, like a dream he never wants to wake up from. His softened eyes linger on your angelic face, but at the eventual realisation of his white button-down blouse being adorned on your figure, he feels the familiar hunger rousing within him. It intensifies when he notices that you are bare of any leggings since his blouse reaches the midsection of your gorgeous thighs. His gaze lingers on the glaring hickeys and faint bite marks on your once-pristine skin that he can’t seem to count. He really did ruin you.

Jay quickly masters self-restraint as he doesn’t wish to wreck you like he did last night. “Hi, honey.” He reciprocates gently, giving you a smile so soft that it looks radiantly dreamy. He places two ceramic bowls on the marbled island. “I made you breakfast.”

Your stomach rumbles instantly, but instead of heading straight for the steaming bowl, you feel a gravitational pull towards the man of your dreams instead. “I didn’t expect you to know how to cook.”

A smirk touches his lips while his eyes drink you in. “Surprised, doll?”

You hum, going straight for a hug that he wholeheartedly embraces you. “A delightful surprise, at that.” Your voice is muffled in his shoulder as you bask in his warmth and scent. “Any other secret talent about you that I should know?”

Jay chuckles breathily, an attractive tune that intensifies your feelings for him. “Stick around a little longer, and you’ll find out.” He says before planting a kiss on your crown. “Unless you intend on leaving me.”

There is an edge in his light-hearted tone, eliciting a frown from you, but your heartstrings tug painfully at the scenario that evokes a new insecurity within you as you imagine the opposite happening instead. “I don’t plan on leaving you, Jay.” You reassure him as you gently pull away to look at his face, your arms remaining attached around his torso. “Do you intend on leaving me—”

“No. Never.” He cuts you off sternly, his tone and eyes holding an unfathomable volume of promises that both scare and reassure you, because no one has ever looked at you like the way he does right now, as though he will do whatever it takes to keep you by his side. “You’re unforgettable, doll. I don’t think I could ever find someone like you.”

Your eyes trace his every beautiful feature that burns in your memory, how truly unreal that a man like him seems to cherish you more than you will ever realise. “You don’t feel real.” You mutter absentmindedly.

Jay adorns a charming smile, dimples showcasing on his cheeks. He feels a bubble of amusement in his chest as you continue to gaze at him dreamily. He takes you by surprise when he leans down and kisses your lips sweetly. “Do I feel real to you now?” He whispers against your parted lips before pulling away.

“So real.” A giggle leaves you, a contagious sound that widens his smile. You look at him with a woozy grin, your head spinning in a good way that makes you feel as though your dopamine has reached its apex. “Hi.”

“You sound and look drunk, honey.” He comments amusingly as he pinches your cheek, but not enough to hurt you.

“Can’t help it. You’re just so dreamy.” You sigh softly, your eyes falling to his lips before you lean forward with your head tilted to the right angle for your lips to fit with his, kissing him tenderly.

“Say you, beautiful. The woman of my dreams.” He murmurs against your lips, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer than you already were. He breaks the lip lock before he can get too carried away by your irresistible allure, chuckling fondly when you turn pouty. “Come on, honey. You can pout for as long as you want after breakfast.”

Not too long later, you are settled on the stool right next to him, slurping on your beef udon noodle soup that tastes delectably rich. Despite satisfying your hunger, your heart flutters every now and then at his every action—the way he delicately holds your hair and brushes the strands that seem to be getting in the way while you eat, giving you the small side dish of his homemade kimchi that is meant to be his after you finish yours. You simply wish for this moment to last a little longer.

“Just to let you know that I cleared my schedule for this whole week so that we’d be able to spend more time together.” He informs you as soon as the two of you finish the bowls of udon.

You pause from taking sips of your drink before slowly putting down the glass. You furrow your eyebrows in concern. “Is that really okay? I’m sure you’re busy with all the work.”

“It’s fine, honey. My secretary will handle the paperwork.” He smiles, his hand reaching up to caress your cheek affectionately. “I want to focus on you, on us. We haven't really spent that much time together anyway.”

Your heart swells with something so peculiar despite the recognisable affection. Your eyes soften as you place a hand on top of his, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for always making time for me.” 

Jay smiles softly, grabbing your hand before placing a kiss into your palm while you feel a familiar spark. “For you, always.”

Before you can speak, his chiming phone intervenes, prompting him to reach for his phone across the island. You take sips of your drinks again, watching him from the corner of your eye and noticing how the radiant contentment on his face dims as he checks his phone.

“Is everything okay?” You ask tentatively as you put down your empty glass, your senses being aware of his dour mood despite the neutrality in his countenance.

Jay places his phone down and shifts his attention to you, his heart clenching as he scans your beautiful facial features. For a moment, he debates silently whether or not to let you know, as he hates for the light in your eyes to dim, but when your hand gently cradles his face, he caves in. “If it means leaving you for a few business trips abroad, then no, I’m not okay.” He confesses sullenly, leaning into your touch.

You try not to let the disappointment affect you deeply at the thought of his possibly long absence, as you have already expected this, since his job does require travelling overseas for business transactions, etc. “When?” You ask, your voice a steady neutrality.

“I should be making the proper arrangements by next week.” He informs, his dark brows furrowing as he seems to be thinking deeply.

You pull him out of his thoughts with a kiss on the cheek. “It’s okay. We still have this week to spend time together.” You say positively, mustering a wide smile that you hope is convincing to mask your disappointment.

“But it isn’t enough.” He counters, his tone lacing with frustration that borders on desperation, but you decide to allay his distressed emotions, giving his palm a tender kiss before positioning his hand to cup your cheek. His heart flutters at the unexpected action from you since he’s usually the one giving hand kisses. Just then, an idea pops in his head. “Honey, what do you think of travelling abroad?”

“I always dreamed of being able to travel often once I gained financial stability.” You sigh softly, leaning into his touch while your beautifully sparkling eyes attentively never stray off his face. “Why do you ask?”

Jay simply smiles, and his dimples are an adorable presence in his cheeks. “Because I’m going to make your dream come true.”

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[seosracha]

WHO DAT IN DA BACKKKKKK‼️‼️

[seosracha]

making some progress on souvenir😵!. getting REAL FRICKING CLOSE to 10k #writer Ong ts real.

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR (preview)

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads bestfriend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (reader is 20, jay is 38), daddy issues, both don't have a mother, lawyer!jay :D, descriptions of France that might be incorrect (sorry), more tba.

WC ⸻ currently 5k, est 15-20k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, je me souviens de tout by tayc, 100 by dean blunt, sad girl by lana del rey

NOTE ⸻ all updates regarding this fic will be published under its tag. i want to make it worth the wait so it probably wont be published this month, or the next. But i PROMISEE ill try to get it out as soon as possible. ill leave u with this for now;)

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed.

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience.

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf.

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature.

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island.

“Jay-” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him.

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has.

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous.

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even.

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable.

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling.

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head.

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose.

Were you?

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone.

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close.

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time.

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out.

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much”

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart.

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble.

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments.

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you.

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Older” you correct, too deliberately.

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't.

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It seems to terrify Jay, the fact that it doesn't stop him, not at all.

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true.

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too.

[seosracha]

Hii can I be tagged in the new jay fic!

hi love ofc!! 💟

[seosracha]

⸻ SOUVENIR (preview)

POSTED HERE !!

SYNOPSIS ⸻ getting into your dream school, far away from the place you are forced to call home, in a romantic place like Paris has always been your dream. Even more dreamy is your fathers best friend, Park Jonseong, who just so happens to be a well-off lawyer in the heart of France.

PAIRING ⸻ dads bestfriend!jay x fem!reader

GENRE ⸻ strangers to lovers, fluff, smut

TAGS ⸻ power imbalance, age gap (reader is 20, jay is 38), daddy issues, both don't have a mother, lawyer!jay :D, descriptions of France that might be incorrect (sorry), more tba.

WC ⸻ currently 5k, est 15-20k

PLAYLIST ⸻ souvenir by selena gomez, je me souviens de tout by tayc, 100 by dean blunt, sad girl by lana del rey

NOTE ⸻ all updates regarding this fic will be published under its tag. i want to make it worth the wait so it probably wont be published this month, or the next. But i PROMISEE ill try to get it out as soon as possible. ill leave u with this for now;)

It’s Sunday. And you're fucking stressed.

The week that led up to the beginning of the semester had been fun enough to make you second guess going to school all together. Seeing the picture perfect city with your own two eyes was a blessing you never expected to experience.

You’re on his couch, flipping through one of the aged books that could be found on his shelf.

French. Complicated. Too serious. But at least you could pretend you understand, or even care for the piece of literature.

Jay sits at the kitchen counter, typing away at his laptop. And honestly, he doesn't know why. Just five steps away is his office, perfectly designed to accommodate all his needs. Yet he chooses the hard, uncomfortable stool at the kitchen island.

“Jay-” you start, eyes still on the book that has caused you to become more bored than you were before opening it “What kind of lawyer are you? Like, what do actually do” your voice is casual, as you steal a glance at him.

He fixes his glasses but doesn't look away. “Corporate” it’s fast, and automatic, almost like he’s heard the question millions of times in his life. Probably because he has.

“Boring” you comment, expecting something more scandalous.

“Pays the bills. That’s enough” his voice is even.

You turn on your side, stretching out your legs. He watches. He watches you, comfortable in his space. Almost too comfortable.

“Sorry to disappoint” he adds, putting his focus back on the unanswered mails in his inbox. But he knows you’re right there, and it bothers him. Not in a bad way- and that feels oddly unsettling.

“Have you never considered something dirtier? Riskier?” you muse, tilting your head.

It was just curiosity. You weren't doing it on purpose.

Were you?

“Dirtier?” he mutters to himself, before glancing away one more time “I don’t take risks. It’s idiotic” the explanation is accompanied by his firm tone.

“Never?” his eyes gloss over the work he hasn't finished yet. He still closes his laptop though. Jay walks over to the couch, sitting down close to you, but not too close.

A hum of disagreement slips past his lips “Never” he leans back on the couch, exhaling deeply as he looks at the time.

“I think you like control too much” you know that you shouldn’t comment on his decisions or life, but it comes naturally as you can’t stop the words from coming out.

He chuckles, looking over at you, watching the way your body spreads out on the brown leather couch “And I think you talk too much”

Still, something inside him tenses. Jay knows you’re right, but at the same time, it pisses him off because- you have no idea.

You laugh softly, shaking your head as you set down the book on his coffee table. Jacques Prévert. Opened right on the poem he knows by heart.

‘Bête comme les regrets, tendre comme le souvenir’ - Foolish as regrets, tender as memory. Jay always liked the line. More than the poem itself, actually. When he first read it, he didn't quite understand. He still doesn't, not when he never experienced that fragile love, beautiful as day and cold as marble.

His father had given him the book right before he moved out. Jay never really comes back to it- written in French, by a French author, it still reeks of the life he desires to forget. The life that he hasn't lived for the past 20 years- yet it always comes back to him in the most unexpected moments.

“You’re just like all of my dads old friends, I swear” It's playful, harmless. But Jay stills at the jab, his gaze freezing on you.

“Old?” he raises an eyebrow, and there's a smirk that tugs at the corner of your lips.

“Older” you correct, too deliberately.

It’s almost like you're mocking him, testing his ignorance. It’s like you want to see if he’ll correct you. He doesn't.

He knows you're not the stubborn kid his friend used to complain about. But he also knows how much older he’s gotten since then. It seems to terrify Jay, the fact that it doesn't stop him, not at all.

Jay knows he’s the one who brought you here, and maybe he could blame it on the slip of his tongue, or perhaps the need to fulfil an obligation towards his friend, but that wouldn’t be necessarily true.

He sullied his life with his own hands, and he knew how much harder it was only going to get to not dirty yours too.