ジェイ ˖ 𝑓em!r .. sister’s bf jay! —suggestive. smut. set in 1989
tw: mdni (18+). making out. fingering. cheating. love bites. oral [fem receiving]. garage sex. safe sex.
note: he’s a sexy guitarist 🤤 and both a bit trifling (all love tho ♡) also VERY lightly inspired by relationship between melissa and spencer hastings.. just without the p*dos. 5k word count….
It was two years ago… “You seriously have no shame, do you?”Your sister’s angered words rang through your bedroom. You just stared at your sister through the mirror, you knew if you tried to explain it wouldn’t matter, but you did it anyway. “He kissed me first,” you say simply. “You knew he was mine, Y/n”A pause. “Did he? clearly he didn’t if he’s kissing me.” Your sister huffed, so angry she couldn’t even put words to argue back. That was boyfriend number two.
You came back out of your memory from two years back when your sister walked in with a man you’ve never seen before. Your sister had many after boyfriend number two kissed you but none of them interested you, ever since boyfriend number two she couldn’t help but tell you each time she brought a guy over that he’s off limits. Did you want boyfriend number two? Yes. Did you expect him to kiss you? No. Did you like it? Yes. It’s kind of the blessing and curse of being in your older sister’s shadow. Getting your sister’s cute boyfriends but never seeming to get one on your own. You look to the both of them, your sister holding his hand, feeding him a grape.. his guitar case with the writing Jay on it and then they disappeared to her bedroom.
Nights later, it was a family dinner. You don’t get why mom was preparing a Michelin five star dinner, your dad then explained to you that your sister was inviting Jay over. You sighed. The dining room smells like steak and potatoes. You sat across from Jay, your napkin folded neatly in your lap, you tuck your hair behind your ear and pretend not to notice Jay’s eyes flick at you. He’s wearing a black button-down shirt that still somehow looks wrong in this house—too sharp, too dark, like he doesn’t belong in suburbia. Like he knows it too. Your mom is rambling about her book club’s latest drama, while your dad sips wine and makes polite jokes about Jay’s “rockstar lifestyle.” Your sister beams at Jay like she’s already picturing the wedding. Probably why all exes left so early.
Your mother’s halfway through grilling Jay about his job—if you could call late-night gigs in dingy venues a “job”—while your father tries not to grimace at the tattoos trailing down Jay’s hands. He handles it well though. Cool. Calm. A smirk in the corner of his mouth like none of this matters. “So,” your mom says, “how did you two meet?” Your sister beams. “Through friends. He’s in a band, actually.” “A band,” your dad echoes. Jay clears his throat, voice low and gravelly. “Lead guitar and vocals. We mostly do small sets, but we’re working on recording.” “And you plan to do that… long-term?” your mom presses.
Your sister can’t help it. “Mom,” she cuts in, a slow smile tugging her lips, “you should hear him play. He’s really good.” Jay glances at her then. Quick. Sharp. Like he wasn’t expecting her to say anything at all. Your eyes lock in with his for just a beat too long. Your sister doesn’t notice. She’s too busy defending Jay’s “artistic ambition.” you take another sip of water, your cheeks warm. You should look away, you just can’t. Finally after an hour, he left. Your mom, your sister, and you cleaned up after dinner while your dad watched tv.
“He’s… an interesting choice,” your dad mutters from the living room, half watching TV but still engaged. “I didn’t expect someone like him for Y/s/n” Your mom sighs, wiping down the counter. “He’s a bit… unconventional, don’t you think?” You snort softly, but your sister catches it. She looks up, annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You shrug, putting down a water glass. “It’s just… he doesn’t exactly scream ‘future diplomat’ or ‘successful lawyer,’ you know? I didn’t expect him to like someone so… vanilla.”
Your sister narrows her eyes. “Vanilla? Are you serious?” Your mom chimes in, looking at you with a pointed look.“I always thought you’d bring home someone more, well, polished. You’ve got such refined tastes. You know, the kind of guy who’d be a good influence on your future.” You can’t help it. A quick glance toward the door where Jay just left, a sly smile curling your lips. “I didn’t expect you to be the one slumming it with a guy like him.” There’s a brief silence. Your sister’s face hardens as she hands a dish to mom, clearly trying to keep her frustration in check.“Y/N,” her mom warns, but you shrug. “Don’t act like you don’t agree.” You say before going back to your room.
Couple weeks pass by, every time Jay came over it was small things. Small touches, tiny stares… little things you tried to ignore. It was Tuesday when you went to work at the video store, the store is dead. It’s always dead on a Tuesday night, you were behind the counter when the chime of the bell rang as someone opened the door. You don’t even look up. “If you’re here for the porn, it’s over in the 18+ section. don’t ask me for recommendations.” you say with a hint of boredom.
“oh- that’s not.” the man says, your head snaps up. Jay stands in the entrance, hands shoved into his worn black jacket, eyes scanning the shelves like he’s actually looking for something. He’s not. You know it. “Did Y/S/N send you?” You asked, leaning against the counter. “Nope.” He saunters closer. “Was in the neighborhood.” “And you just happened to wander into my place of work?” He smirks. “You’re not that easy to bump into. Thought I’d make it easier on myself.” The last time y’all spoke was over dinner, with your sister’s hand on his thigh under the table. This feels different. Too quiet. Too close.
“You should be careful,” she says, sliding a tape back into its case. “If Y/s/n finds out you’re flirting with me, she might dump you before you finish your next song.” He shrugs, taking slow steps toward the counter now. “I wasn’t flirting.” “Right,” you say, raising a brow. “and you just so happened to stumble upon my job like a stray cat.” Jay leans in a little, just enough to make your pulse kick. “If I was flirting… you’d know. Now about that porn.”
You laughed and shook your head. “You’re stupid.” you say before you both chuckle softly, looking into each others eyes than looking away. He clears his throat and heads towards the door but stops with his hand on the handle. “You gonna tell her I was here?” “Why would I do that?” you ask, softly smiling. “You’re just a customer.” He smirks before heading out the door. You exhaled, you didn’t even realize how long you were holding your breath while speaking to him.
It was 10 pm when you clocked out, 10:25 when you got home. Your family was all doing various things in the living room. Your sister on the couch, scrolling through her phone, legs tucked under her. She glances up. “Work suck?” “As usual,” You say, heading to the fridge for a soda. “Except this guy came in. Super cute. Tattooed. Very musically inclined he seemed.” Your sister barely reacts. “You get guys like that in there?” “Not usually,” You says, twisting the cap off your drink. “He was kind of charming. A bit nonchalant.” Your sister snorts. “Sounds like your type. You shrug, hiding your smile behind the bottle. “I guess.” After that you went to your bedroom, blushing a bit from thinking about Jay at the video shop just letting your sister sit there blissfully unaware.
Ever since Tuesday, it’s become a thing. Jay starts coming in every few days, never quite admitting he’s there for you, but you both know. Sometimes he rents a movie. Sometimes he just leans on the counter and talks music—The Cure, Joy Division, Mazzy Star. You tells him which directors are overrated. He tells you which albums changed his life. He never mentions Y/s/n. Neither do you.
One Tuesday night, you’re in the back corner, re-shelving DVDs with a stack of the store’s naughtier titles. The fluorescent lights hum above your head, and you’re crouched down, sorting “Erotic Thrillers” from “Foreign Adult.”“Wow,” Jay says, suddenly standing at the end of the aisle. “Didn’t know you moonlighted as a porn fairy.” You jumped, clutching a shrink-wrapped tape to your chest. “Jesus. Warn a girl next time.”
“Sorry but I didn’t expect to find you restocking the premium titles.” Jay’s voice teases behind you. You turn and find him standing just a few feet away, eyes dancing with amusement. “Someone’s gotta do it,” you mutter, sliding a tape back onto the shelf “Perverts have needs too.” “You calling me a pervert?” “If the shoe fits.” Jay steps closer, eyes flicking to the shelves behind you, then back to your face. “Didn’t think you’d be shy about this stuff.” “I’m not.” You replied, before the silence snuck in. It wasn’t a bad silence, more like a silence of just enjoying each other’s presence.
“Y’know,” he says, softer now, “I like coming here.” “To the porn section?” He gives you a look. “To talk to you.” Your breath catches. The air feels thicker suddenly, the kind of quiet that crackles.Jay leans back against the shelf across from you, arms crossed, a teasing smirk playing at the corner of his mouth—but his eyes are softer now. Curious. “You ever actually watch any of these?” he asks. You shrug, still crouched by the tapes. “Watched a few for the plot.” “Bet you’ve got a top five.” “You’d be surprised,” you murmur, then goes quiet for a second. The playful air shifts—just slightly—and when you finally speak again, your voice is quieter. Almost like you’re saying it to the floor. “I didn’t think you’d like me… not after what Y/S/N has probably told you.”
Jay straightens a little, his brows pulling together. “Y/S/N hasn’t told me anything about you.” Your eyes flick up to his, guarded but sharp. “That’s probably on purpose,” you say with a dry laugh. “Most of the guys I’ve been with were hers first.” Jay doesn’t react—not with judgment, not even surprise. He just watches you, and that silence is deafening.“Not like I planned it,” You go on. “They just… looked at me differently. Or maybe I made it easy. I don’t know. Either way, I’ve got a reputation that probably makes me the punchline of some family joke.”
Jay doesn’t move for a long moment. Then he says, low and steady: “Doesn’t sound like something to joke about.” You huff a soft breath. “No? ‘Y/n the rebound’ doesn’t make you laugh?” He shakes his head. “Sounds more like Y/n’s the one they actually wanted.” The tension settles heavy between them, but it’s not sharp anymore. It’s warm. Charged. Like something dangerous in a velvet box. You swallow. “You should go.” Jay doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. Just stands there like you didn’t say anything at all. “Y/n,” he says slowly, voice low enough to make your skin prickle. “Why do you think I keep coming here?” Your breath catches. You know the answer, but you don’t want to be the one to say it. “You’re bored. You like the attention.” “No,” he says, taking a step forward. “I like you.”
The air snaps between them. You back into the shelf behind you, tapes pressing into your spine, heart thudding loud in your ears “Y/s/n…” you whisper, like saying her name might stop this from happening.
But Jay’s already closing the space, slow, deliberate. His hand brushes your jaw, thumb ghosting over your cheek like he’s checking to see if you’ll flinch. You don’t. “Tell me to leave,” he says, breath warm against your lips. You don’t. The kiss hits hard. It’s not gentle. It’s the kind of kiss that says I shouldn’t want this but I do anyway. His mouth crashes into yours like he’s been waiting weeks—because maybe he has. Your hands twist into the front of his jacket, dragging him closer, mouths clashing, breath mingling in that too-warm aisle of sin. His fingers tangle in your hair, yours slip under his shirt. You moan—quiet and quick—and that’s what makes him pull back. Just an inch. Just enough to breathe. “Shit,” he mutters. You lean your head back against the shelf, chest heaving. “Yeah. Shit.”Neither of you say anything else for a second. You just look at each other. Wanting. Regretting. Wanting again. Finally, Jay steps back, raking a hand through his hair. “I need to go.” “You think?” “Yeah.” He turns and walks off this time, fast—like if he doesn’t leave now, he won’t. You stay there in the adult section, lips bruised and hands shaking, already knowing you’re in deep.
Tuesdays pass. No Jay. He stops showing up. No visits, no smirks, no band banter over faded VHS cases. You pretend not to care. You pretend so hard it’s exhausting. Y/s/n doesn’t notice—why would she? To her, Jay was never more than a boyfriend. To you, he’s a secret burned into your mouth. You finds yourself organizing the horror section slower. Watching the door longer. Wondering if that one kiss scared him off or scared him too much.
You find out where he practices by accident—Y/s/n mentions something in passing about Jay’s band being loud as hell on weeknights. A quick walk. One wrong/right turn. A familiar beat rattling through a cracked garage door. You show up Thursday night, late enough it’s just him. His car’s out front. The garage is cracked open just enough to spill music and warm yellow light onto the driveway.
You knock once. No answer. You push the door open. He’s tuning his guitar, head down, shirt half-sweaty and worn. He doesn’t look up at first, assuming it’s one of his bandmates.“Hey,” You say softly. His head lifts, expression caught somewhere between surprise and defense. “You stalking me now?” “I came to apologize,” she says, stepping in, hugging something to her chest. A plastic VHS case. Jay sets his guitar aside but stays seated, brows furrowed. “For what?” “For… kissing you. Or letting you kiss me. Or wanting to be kissed. I don’t know. All of it.” A beat. “Do you regret it?” he asks. You look at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “No.” He exhales, something between relief and frustration.“Then what’s the apology for?” You shrug, stepping closer. “For scaring you off, I guess.”
You hand him the tape. He takes it without looking at the label. “What’s this?” “Almost Famous. You said it’s your favorite. Thought I’d try saying sorry without kissing you this time.”Jay runs his thumb over the label, then looks back at you. There’s that tension again. Familiar. Magnetic. “You still work Tuesdays?”“Yeah,” you say. “Same time.” He nods once, like he’s already made up his mind. “I’ll see you then.” You nod, taking up on what he said, then leaving him to attend to his guitar.
It becomes a routine again. Every Tuesday night, Jay shows up around the same time—sometimes with snacks, sometimes with a new band to talk about, sometimes with a guitar slung over his shoulder, like he couldn’t even wait to go home first. You guys don’t kiss again. Not yet. But the way you talk? It’s quiet intimacy. It’s deep-in-the-aisles laughter. It’s watching Almost Famous after closing with his arm just barely touching yours on the counter. “You’re still not over Penny Lane,” You tease one night. “You’re not either,” he shoots back. They don’t talk about Y/s/n. But that silence starts to mean something different now.
One night over dinner, Y/s/n stabs at her salad and says it out loud. “I think Jay’s pulling away.” The room quiets just a touch. Your mom glances up, fork pausing mid-air. “Pulling away how?” “He barely calls anymore. Doesn’t ask to hang out. Always has band stuff. And when we are together, he just seems… somewhere else.” Your dad exhales through his nose. “Well, sweetheart… he’s an interesting choice. You’ve always gone for a certain kind of guy. This one felt… different.” “Not in a bad way,” Mom adds quickly. “Just not what we pictured for you.” “What—because he’s not going to law school?” Y/s/n snaps, voice sharper than usual. “No, because he’s not for you,” You want to say—but don’t. You just keep your eyes on your plate, pretending you’re not eavesdropping while your heart is thudding like it knows it’s guilty. Your mom reaches out, touches Y/s/n’s hand. “Maybe it’s just run its course. You deserve someone who shows up. Someone who fits.” Y/s/n doesn’t say anything, but her eyes flick to you for a second. Just a second, you swear your stomach did a somersault.
Jay’s garage door is cracked open again. You slip in like it’s second nature now, carrying a paper bag with snacks and a copy of The Lost Boys under your arm. He’s already setting up the TV in his garage, tangled wires and dusty speakers, looking effortlessly undone in a worn T-shirt and joggers. “You bring the horror?” he asks, smirking when you drop the movie beside the VCR. “Always,” you say, then sits cross-legged on his futon like you’ve been doing it forever. The lights go off. The movie starts. But neither of them is really watching. Ten minutes in, you speak, voice quiet but sharp enough to slice through the static. “Y/s/n thinks you’re pulling away from her.”
Jay doesn’t answer right away. Just lets the vampires on screen talk for him. “She told the whole family over dinner,” You add. “Said you don’t call. Don’t ask to hang out. That you feel… far.” Jay shifts on the futon, eyes still on the screen. “Is that what she said?” “Not exactly. But close enough.” He finally looks at you then. Really looks. “You think she’s wrong?” You swallow, your throat tight. “I think you stopped showing up for her on purpose.” Jay leans back on his elbows, watching you in the flickering light. “And I keep showing up for you.” Silence. You stare at the TV, heart pounding. “She’s your girlfriend.” “Was,” he says quietly. “If we’re being honest.” “Not officially.” “You want me to wait until it’s official to want you?” That hits you hard—too honest, too close. You don’t answer. You can’t. Jay shifts forward, gently tugs the movie case from your lap and sets it on the coffee table. “We can still watch the movie,” he says, softer now. “But if we do… don’t lie to me the whole time.” You look over at him. “About what?” “About how bad you want this.” And for once, you don’t lie.
And then it slips. Not because you meant to say it, not because you planned it—but because it’s been sitting just beneath your skin for weeks. “I do want this,” you breathe. His eyes lock with yours. “I want it,” you say again, voice shaking now. “I need it.” you lean forward, forehead almost brushing his. “I need you.” That’s all it takes. Jay’s hands are on you—your waist, your cheek, pulling you in like gravity made him do it. Your mouths meet, this time slow and deep, like you’re memorizing every second. Your fingers curl into his shirt, tugging him closer, swallowing whatever guilt or fear was still lingering in your chest. The movie plays on in the background, but you’re not watching it. Too busy feeling. Wanting. Finally giving in.
Jay kisses you like he’s starved for it—like he’s been imagining this in the quiet moments between songs, in the back of every Tuesday night conversation. His lips trail from your mouth down to your jaw, then lower, finding the curve of your neck. He lingers there, sucking gently, tongue tasting your skin like he wants to brand you.
You arch into him, breath catching as his hands slide up your sides, finding your breasts through the fabric of your shirt. He palms them slowly, thumbs brushing over your nipples until they harden beneath his touch. “Fuck,” you whisper, half a gasp, your hips shifting against his thigh. He shifts too, leg slipping between yours, guiding your left leg up and over his with just enough pressure to open you up for him.
It’s tight—barely enough room on the old futon, but you both don’t care. Your back hits the cushions, and he leans over you, kissing you hard again, his weight pressed just enough to make your body burn. His hand trails down, fingertips slipping under the hem of your skirt. “Is this okay?” he murmurs against your mouth. You just nod, already breathless. His fingers find the soaked fabric of your panties, rubbing over your slick heat in slow, teasing circles that make you squirm. “You’re so wet for me,” he mutters, voice thick, eyes locked on yours. “I’ve been wet for weeks,” you fire back, half-laughing, half-moaning as he slides your panties aside. His fingers inside you. Two of them—slow and deep at first, curling just right, like he already knows exactly how to touch you.
Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting in a soft moan as he fucks you with his hand, thumb circling your clit in time with the rhythm. “Jay…” you breathe, hips rocking against him, hands in his hair, dragging him down for another kiss. He groans into your mouth, the sound low and desperate. “I’ve wanted this since the second I saw you in that stupid little uniform behind the counter,” he admits. “Wanted to ruin you right there in the store.” “Then do it,” you whisper. “Ruin me.”
Jay shifts down so his mouth hovers just above your inner thigh. Your breath hitches, the heat between your legs a roaring pulse. His lips brush your skin—a whisper of contact—tracing slow, teasing circles up toward your center.
He parts your folds with a gentle thumb, then presses a soft kiss right where you ache the most. You arch up, hands tangling in his hair, as his tongue flicks against your soaked slit. “Fuck…” you moan, voice thick. Jay doesn’t answer with words. He answers with his mouth—lips wrapping around your clit, tongue swirling in delicious, precise patterns that make your knees tremble. Every flick of his tongue sends fireworks through your core; every suck on your pearl drives you closer to the edge. You grip the futon cushion, hips lifting to meet him, pressing your body into his face. He groans against your flesh, one hand sliding up your thigh to keep you steady while the other curls into your hair, pulling you down for deeper access.
“Jay…”your voice cracks, half-demand, half-prayer. He answers by suckling your clit, then flicking it hard with just the tip of his tongue. You cry out, shivering as pleasure coils tighter and tighter. “Look at me,” he murmurs, lifting his head just enough so his eyes lock with yours through the haze. “Let go for me.” Your breath stutters. Your vision swims with stars. You throws your head back and arch, clenching around nothing and everything at once. “I’m gonna—”
Your words cut off as the wave crashes.Jay holds you there, lips and tongue racing over your sensitive flesh, drawing out your orgasm until you tremble to form another thought. Your body shudders, hips jerking, nails digging into his shoulders. When you finally come down, he straightens, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. You’re breathless, flushed, utterly spent. He slides back up, meeting your gaze with a slow, satisfied smile. “You good?” he whispers. You can only nod, mouth dry, heart pounding so loud you’re afraid he can hear it.
Jay brushes a strand of hair from your face and leans down for a lingering kiss—slow, intimate, as if sealing the moment between you two. The garage futon might be small, the world outside complicated, but right now, there’s only this: two bodies tangled, two hearts racing, and the soft rhythm of your breathing in the dim light.
Your chest is still rising and falling when you open your eyes and see him watching you—his lips slick, his pupils blown wide, his restraint barely hanging on. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice still shaky. “Didn’t I?” he smirks, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, deeper. You taste yourself on his tongue, and it only turns you on more.
Your fingers move to his waistband, tugging at the elastic of his joggers. “You’re not gonna leave me like this, are you?” “Wasn’t planning on it.” You slide his pants down, palms dragging along the sharp lines of his hips, and his cock springs free—hard, thick, already leaking. Your eyes flicker up to his. “Jesus.” He grins. “Still sure you can handle me, baby?”“I’m about to prove it.” You wrap your hand around him, pumping slowly, watching the way his jaw clenches as he groans low in his throat. He leans over you again, kisses you so hard it bruises, then lines himself up between your legs.
“Condom?” he breathes against your mouth. You nod, fumbling for your purse on the floor and tossing him the small silver wrapper. He rips it open, rolls it on with shaking fingers, then settles between your thighs again, guiding himself to your entrance. He pushes in slowly—inch by inch—watching your face, waiting for any sign of hesitation. There isn’t one. You gasp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he stretches you open, filling you completely. “Fuck,” he grits out. “You feel so good—so fucking tight.”
“Move,” you plead, legs wrapping around his waist. And he does. The futon creaks beneath them, small and cramped, but they don’t care. His rhythm starts slow—deep, controlled thrusts that leave you shaking—then faster, harder, as your bodies find the perfect tempo. He fucks you like he’s claiming you, like every snap of his hips is a confession he hasn’t dared speak aloud. Your moans grow louder, your thighs trembling around him, and he presses his forehead to yours. “You feel that?” he pants. “That’s what you do to me.”
You pull him down into another kiss, messy and gasping. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” He doesn’t. And when you cum again—clenching around him, breathless and ruined—he follows right after, groaning your name like it’s the only one he knows. You both stay like that for a moment, tangled, sweating, hearts pounding out of sync. Then Jay rolls off you, breath still shallow, arm draped across your stomach. “So,” he mutters. “Guess Tuesday nights just got a little more complicated.” You laugh softly, staring up at the ceiling. “They were never simple to begin with.”
Jay’s hand is still resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy shapes against your skin. “What happens now?” he asks, voice low, uncertain. You don’t answer. You just stare at the ceiling, heart pounding, the weight of what they’ve done pressing down hard—but not harder than the way he looked at you a few minutes ago.
You turn your head toward him. “Tuesday,” you whispers. “We see what happens Tuesday.” He nods. Just the heavy silence of a garage, the fading hum of a record spinning somewhere in the corner, and two people who know they’ve just crossed a line they can never uncross.
leah’s note: hey cuntresses! this took fucking forever but i hope yall enjoy and if it’s too long girl i don’t blame you for not finishing.. HAPPY BDAY JAY! LOVE YALL
2087
izzy806
gracieabrams
prguitarman
ellievsbear
discoholicmusic
vaporwave
