IM TIRED IM ITEIROUAFIAUIAUOIUWAOIFAW NISHIMURA 😭😭😭😭

erm i updated the jake series and the unsorted stories with spotify tracks soooo HAHAHAHAH

⋆｡°✩ your domestic boyfriend is away on tour

fairy of shampoo | park jongseong x male!reader

pairing: jay x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 1.0k notes: ANOTHER JAY STORY!! I just can't get enough of this man ... had the inspo to do this and all I could search online was his videos ... im sure we all did that 😫

He's a little bit far away from you.

You let out a soft groan as you lean your head against the counter, exhaustion weighing down your body. Jay glances over, a teasing smile playing on his lips, but he can see past the surface. “Bored already?” he asks, his tone light, yet his eyes betray a hint of concern as they catch your yawning figure.

“Noo… Just tired,” you reply, your voice wavering slightly, the fatigue evident in every syllable. As much as he wanted to feel concerned, it was fascinating how you still denied it with such cuteness.

He tilts his head, studying you intently. “You can go to bed, honey,” he suggests gently, the warmth of his smile a soothing balm for your tired soul. “You don’t have to stay up with me.”

You fidget with the ends of your knitted sleeves, the gesture a familiar comfort. Yet, even the fabric feels heavy against your skin tonight. The warmth you’ve come to cherish is absent, leaving an emptiness that gnaws at your insides. It drains your energy, steals your motivation, and makes the night stretch endlessly. You might even say it’s worse than being sick; at least then, you could still muster the strength to do chores, much to Jay’s playful annoyance at your relentless spirit.

“But I want to…” you murmur, your voice barely breaking through the silence.

Jay chuckles softly, but the sound carries an underlying worry. He feels a tight pang of loneliness wash over him, a sensation he can’t shake off when he’s away on tour. He doesn’t like missing out on moments like these—seeing you feel small and tired, wishing he could wrap you in his arms and shield you from the harsh confines of this oh-so-cruel world. The glow of your face on the screen brings him comfort, yet it’s not enough. He yearns to be there beside you, to feel the warmth of your presence against him.

His band is on tour across the U.S., and while he knows it’s part of his job, it pains him to just leave you behind. If it weren’t for that demanding project at work, one that you swear will break your back, you could have been enjoying a cozy getaway together. The thought makes his heart ache.

“Look at you, you’re already so tired,” he says softly, concern lacing his voice. “Are you even checking if the ramyeon is done?”

You jerk up at the reminder, the delicious aroma hitting you like a wave. “Ahhh!!” Panic sets in, and Jay can’t help but laugh at the sight of you scrambling to the kitchen. But behind that laughter lies a deeper worry; he can see how overwhelmed you’ve been lately, how the weight of the world rests heavily on your shoulders when he’s not there to support you.

As you brush your hair back, narrowly avoiding the smoke alarm again, he wishes he could be the one to take care of you. He knew that you being independent was never easy, and the thought of you feeling lonely without him makes his heart ache. You settle back in front of your laptop, a small pout on your lips, and he feels a surge of affection mixed with helplessness.

“Done?” he asks, hopeful as he seems to return from somewhere off-screen.

“Yeah…” you reply with a soft sigh. “I’ll let it cool down and maybe eat it later.”

He watches you closely, his heart swelling with concern and love. “Try to eat on time, honey.”

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, he sees the flicker of vulnerability in your eyes. “I’ll try,” you whisper, and he knows the struggle behind those words.

As you try to fix your posture atop your wooden bar stool, he picks up his guitar, cradling it with such care. “Want to fall asleep to me strumming some tunes?” he asks, his voice soft, almost intimate.

You beam a big smile stretching from one ear to another, warming his heart. It’s always a treat when he plays for you, and he feels that this will definitely be a moment of connection that will transcend the distance between you.

"Then go to bed." You look at him, almost begrudgingly. He could only chuckle back at you, knowing that little snark you had was coming out so slowly.

"Please?"

You huffed under your hot breath.

“Fine...” you say, surrendering to the comfort of your space. You then walked a little bit from your kitchen towards the warm confines of your bedroom. The ambient lights in your room create a cozy atmosphere, and you settle into bed, placing your laptop where Jay can see you clearly. He’s tuning his guitar when he notices you all bundled up in your sheets.

“I miss your warmth, Jay,” you confess, pulling the covers tightly around yourself. “I can still smell you from here.”

“Then just sleep like usual,” he replies, his gaze softening as he looks at you through the screen. “Fall asleep while I play your favorite.”

You nestle into your bed, the soft pillows reminding you of him. Seeing you so cozy makes Jay feel a little drowsy, but he fights it off since it’s still afternoon where he is.

With a gentle strum of his guitar, he begins to play your favorite song. The chords resonate beautifully, each note wrapping around you like a warm hug. His fingers dance over the strings, wanting the melody to wrap around you like his arms would if he were there, to soothe you and bring you peace. The chords resonate beautifully, each note a reminder of his love for you, a promise that you’re never truly alone, even when he’s miles away.

As the last note fades away, he glances at you, noticing your stillness. The sight of you peacefully asleep brings a wave of relief, and he can’t help but smile. It seems his music has worked its magic again—you’ve drifted off, cradled by the sounds of his affection. He wishes he could reach out and caress your cheek, to tell you that everything will be okay, but he knows he has to go now, called back to the reality of his afternoon stage practice.

“Good night, honey,” he whispers, his heart heavy with love and longing as he quietly ends the call, closing his laptop softly. He knows that while the distance separates you, the bond you share remains unbreakable.

| masterlist! | previous | next |

the way i forcibly gasped ... RAAAAAAAAA 😭🖐️💕

idk if you're open to it but i feel like you'd give a good representation of writing ni-ki anyway! can you make a story of him falling in love with a male reader? like its just hits him out of the blue and baam ... he likes *a* guy .. crazy stuff!

love all your works to the fullest!! 💕

double take - male!reader x ni-ki

warnings: a little suggestive, cursing, etc.

the sun was just starting to set. it casted long shadows over your small town as you made your way towards the gathering at ni-ki's house.

his dad had invited your family over, just like old times. the whole neighborhood was going wild because after all, it wasn't every day that nishimura riki, the kid who used to play hide and seek with you, racing you to the vending machine, and played video games with you until your thumbs ached, just came back after years of living in Korea.

you had heard bits and pieces about his life through your parents, but you never really reached out.

what would you even say? "bro, remember when we used to dance together?" you doubted he had time for nostalgia, not when he had debuted as an idol, traveling the world, and living the dream he always wanted.

still, his dad's invitation left you no choice. and part of you was a little bit… curious.

he was taller, way waaay taller. you knew you had grown too, but next to him? you weren't sure if it was enough to count.

his once soft cute features had sharpened. he's got more defined jawline now and his nose got even more pointy, and despite everything, he still looked easygoing, laughing shyly as family friends and neighbors showered him with compliments.

does he even recognize you?

his eyes met yours and you looked away, not really sure why.

"hey, y/n!" he called out with his now deep voice, lifting his hand to dap you up just like old times.

ni-ki clasped your hand and pulled you into a firm hug. and he's so strong now too.

"hey," laughed awkwardly. "i guess you're ni-ki now?"

"you know i'm just riki." he smiled, scratching the back of his neck again.

you felt a little relieved, maybe he hadn't changed too much.

the two of you stepped aside and started catching up. a little strange at first but the conversation picked up quickly as you both tried to bring up old memories and filling all the years you had missed.

and at some point, he sighed resting his head on your shoulder without warning.

"i'm so tired from the flight," he murmured.

your body tensed.

you felt relieved again knowing he's still comfortable with you but you also felt nervous

because he probably didn't notice… but you like guys now.

i mean, you always did.

and to ni-ki's defense, he was just always like this too, he became comfortable with physical touch especially with guys after years of being surrounded by his group members.

the next day, you were walking through the neighborhood talking about some dumb story from middle school when, out of nowhere, his arm draped over your shoulders.

ni-ki was smiling, listening to you while looking ahead. "man, i miss this place," he said, completely oblivious to how stiff you had just gone.

"y-yeah," you replied, forcing yourself to act normal.

and it made sense that he wouldn't think twice about casually leaning on you or wrapping his arms around your shoulders,

or pulling you close during a game.

"let's see how good you are." ni-ki said, dribbling the ball between his legs, smirking smugly before passing you the ball, like he know he's about to win.

he was on you again, guarding so close. his body pressed against yours, chest to back, arms spreading wide as he tried to block your movements that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, the way his breath came fast and uneven... just like yours.

and your heart was already racing from running around, now it feels like it's going to burst out for a completely different reason.

it's okay, focus. just play.

you tried to step back but ni-ki was right there and he was just so fucking big. his hands kept trying to swipe at the ball.

you moved fast because you were too distracted, and-

foul.

you had practically shoved into him, and he stumbled slightly, blinking at you in surprise.

"whew," ni-ki said and laughed, still panting. "you play dirty like that?"

"sh-shut up," you muttered, reaching for the ball again to distract yourself.

and then in a desperate attempt to shake off whatever this was, you threw it at the hoop with way too much force that the ball smacked against backboard so hard it ricocheted off and bounced into the grass.

"…bro."

"i'm sorry! you're just... too close."

he walked towards you and patted your head. "my bad, sorry."

later, you had just stepped out of the shower. the steam were still clinging to your skin as you ran a towel through your damp hair. the only thing covering you was the towel wrapped loosely around your waist, while water droplets sliding down your chest.

you weren't expecting company.

which is why you froze the moment you saw ni-ki in on your bed, strumming nonsense on your guitar.

both of you just stared at each other with wide eyes. the silence was probably thick enough to choke on.

and ni-ki? he should've been used to this, right? because after all he lives with six guys, sharing dorms, and seeing shirtless bodies all the time.

this shouldn't feel different.

his eyes flicked down just a quick second before he turning his head to the side.

you gripped your towel tighter, "what the hell are you doing in my room?"

"i-" he swallowed, still refusing to look at you. "i was waiting for you."

"In my bed?"

ni-ki groaned, rolling onto his stomach, wishing he could just disappear into the mattress. "we were supposed to go spy on the date, remember?"

his sister's going on a date tonight and he convinced you to go with him because he needs "something" he could find so he can use it against her later.

such a little brother.

but yeah, you did agree to that.

you sighed, running a hand through your damp hair. "you could've knocked."

"i thought you were done..."

your fingers curled around the edge of your towel with your heart still beating a little too fast.

and ni-ki, while still half-buried in your bed, exhaled a breath and peeked at you from the corner of his eye then quickly, he shut his eyes and groaned into your pillow.

"put some clothes on."

"yea- yeah," you muttered, already turning away. "good idea."

"…you're killing me here."

it was late, way past midnight, and he was lying on your bedroom floor, staring at the ceiling.

you were on your bed, already half-asleep, but still mumbling about how he could've just gone home instead of insisting on staying over.

he said it was easier this way, he said he didn't feel like walking.

but he just doesn't want to leave.

you rolled onto your side, your arm dangled off the bed, and your hand peeked over the edge, right in front of his eyes.

he swallowed before reaching out. he let his fingertips ghost over the back of your hand, touching and tracing the lines of your skin.

then your hand twitched.

and ni-ki can't help but intertwine his fingers with yours.

you stirred awake, mumbling groggily. "that's not a ghost, right?"

ni-ki let out a breathy chuckle. "it's me, dumbass."

your heart ached at his touch, biting your lip as you curled your fingers tighter around his.

"...come up here."

next day, you stood next to him. ni-ki didn't know but he was staring, reaally staring because he was.

your head barely reached his shoulder as you walk together, he also had to slow his steps just so you wouldn't fall behind. and when you stretched to reach something high, it was instinct for him to reach over and grab it for you.

it made him smile.

he didn't even realize he was smiling until you turned to him, brow raised.

"what?" you asked, giving him a weird look.

"no- nothing."

and you weren't convinced. "no, seriously, why are you looking at me like that?"

he shrugged, tilting his head slightly. "just… you're kinda small, huh?"

you blinked at him. "no, i'm not?"

ni-ki chuckled before leaning close to your face, "yeah, i bet you are."

he said it like he was challenging you or something.

your jaw dropped, stopping in your tracks as he continued walking. "what the hell?"

you glared at his back before quickly catching up, grabbing his arm and pulling it over your shoulders, forcing him closer.

ni-ki stiffened for a second. his heart were stuttering, but he gave in easily too, pressing a quick kiss to your head, before resting his head on top of yours.

"don't react."

a/n: thank you so much for showing love! it keeps me going.

also this is my first time writing ni-ki and male!reader pairing, so glad this was requested! ><

i know i should've leaned more towards him falling for the reader but i also feel like it wouldn't really be a big surprise to him because it's you/him, the reader.

i actually wanted to make them strangers instead of already knowing each other then i also saw a video (the video attached below) where ni-ki was singing the song double take by dhruv during live and omg i just got so inspired by it lol!

hope you like it! <3

マスターリストm.list

taglist 𖤘: @dolliewon

⋆｡°✩ jake and the simulation

there was definitely an urge to purchase an overpriced life simulator game just to date jake sim ...

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, implied male!reader down bad for jake, loosely accurate sims 4 references because i haven't played in a looooong while, sickening love idk!!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — uhhhh sims references because i wanted it to be an april fools jokey kinda cracky themed, its either this or a whole fic written in simlish asjughfiaufsa

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The soft hum of your computer filled the quiet room as you cracked your knuckles, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The familiar jingle of The Sims 4 booting up sent a thrill through you. You’d been planning this for weeks.

The Create-a-Sim screen loaded, and you wasted no time. First on the agenda—your own sim.

You adjusted every detail meticulously, from the arch of his eyebrows to the slight dimple in his left cheek when he smiled. You dressed him in your favorite outfit and named him after yourself.

Then, with a deep breath, you clicked New Sim.

This one was different. Special.

You scrolled through hairstyles until you found the one—that fluffy, almost jet black mess of flowy hair that always made your heart skip.

You shaped his face carefully, softening his jaw just enough to match that smile—the one that had been your lockscreen for almost as long as you could remember.

This sim was very special, with you giving him warm, deep-set eyes, a gentle nudge to shape his flattering nose, and a playful set of lips based on those that always seemed to linger in your mind.

Jake Sim.

You bit your lip as you stared at the screen. It wasn’t really him, of course—just pixels and code—but something about seeing him there, even in this form, made your chest tighten.

"Okay," you muttered, saving him. "Let’s make this happen."

After the loading screen had passed, you placed them in neighboring houses in Willow Creek—close enough to run into each other, but not too obvious.

Live Mode, on cue. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

The first few in-game hours were… rough.

Your sim wandered around his empty house, aimlessly flipping through TV channels before you remembered, "RIGHT... the mission."

You directed him to Jake’s house, your pulse quickening as the loading screen faded. The door swung open, and there he was—standing in his pajamas, blinking sleepily at your sim like he’d just woken up.

You almost short-circuited right at your seat. Why does he have to be cute in this too!?

You clicked Introduce, and your sim awkwardly waved.

With enough imagination, you filled those garbling nonsensical words with actual lines in your head.

"Uh, hey! I'm your new neighbor."

Jake Sim rubbed his eyes, then grinned. "Oh! Hey! I’m Jake. You, uh… want some coffee?"

Yes. Yes, you did. In the context of you being the sim, of course. Definitely.

You made them chat for way too long—about music, favorite foods, even the weird gnomes that kept spawning in your backyard. Finding out that it wasn't just an occurrence on your side was enough to bring you guys closer, growing more familiar as you chatted. Every interaction sent the friendship bar creeping higher.

Then, emboldened, you hovered over Flirt.

"Has anyone ever told you how radiant you are?"

Almost throwing yourself at your keyboard, that line played in your head, and you went haywire. Landing a line like that on Jake would’ve been so outrageously chaotic.

Seeing your screen yet again, Jake Sim blushed. Actually blushed. How does a 3D model in a game do that?! Crazy.

"Oh my god," he laughed, covering his face. "That’s so cheesy."

Just then, a green +Romance symbol floated above his head.

You pumped your fist. "Hell yeah!" ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Three in-game days later, you finally worked up the courage to send them on a date.

You chose that one custom café you saw on YouTube and tried to get your hands on the tray files. A quiet spot nestled in Magnolia Promenade—the café was quaint, intimate, and nothing but perfect. Your sim fidgeted with his shirt the entire walk there, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how nervous he looked.

Jake Sim was already waiting at a corner table, idly scrolling through his phone. When your sim sat down, he perked up instantly.

"You came!"

"Of course I did."

Oh, these imaginations of yours are doing wonders, aren't they?

You made them order pancakes from the menu, already savoring the taste in your mouth. Oh, I want to taste actual pancakes right now. Maybe a date tomorrow at the local restaurant will perk you right up.

"We’re sharing, right?" Jake asked—and watched as they bickered over the last bite. Your sim let him have it, just to see him smile.

Then, you clicked Flirt again.

"You’re even cuter when you’re obviously stealing my food."

Jake Sim nearly choked on his coffee.

"Yah! Rude!" But he was laughing, eyes crinkling at the corners.

That's how it definitely was. So Jake Sim.

With a quick glance, your Romance bar was so close to full.

Thinking about it, if it becomes full... does it translate to something else? Scrolling through Reddit, Sim sites, and others, it definitely looks like it.

Do it. Just do it. There's no time like now.

You hovered over First Kiss, hesitated, then—

Click.

Your sim leaned in. In your head, you could just imagine Jake’s breath hitching.

And then—

A soft ding, pink sparkles swirling around them as their lips met. Love chiming happily in the air.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding.

"Finally." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

A week later (in-game, at least), Jake Sim moved into your sim's house.

You spent hours designing their shared home—a cozy two-story with a big kitchen, a record player in the living room, and a bedroom with one bed (because why waste space on two?).

Spending hours on finding the best CC, you could almost tell that the home you were building was a complete copy of where you were currently at.

To your surprise, even your phased-out office table had a model so similar online! Doesn't matter if you paid almost $10 for the Patreon, you're putting a masterpiece in your abode. Real or not!

In the kitchen you based so well on yours, Jake Sim kept burning every meal he tried to cook. Clicking over to your busy sim, it walked straight to where you led them and made them take over. If there were only voices, it would definitely be just like you—teasing him as he dramatically collapsed onto the couch.

"I give up. Cooking is evil." That line just rang randomly in your head.

You were belching with laughter as you saw your sim setting a plate in front of him.

"Good thing I like taking care of you." You mumbled as you set your foot up on your chair.

Just then, your favorite sims kissed right in front of you.

You may have squeaked at the sight. Just a little. ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Then came the neighbors.

The Landgraabs showed up with their usual terrible fruitcake, and your sim and Jake stood there, awkwardly nodding as Nancy rambled about property values.

Then, out of nowhere, Nancy was definitely trying to flirt... with your sim!?

"You know, you’re very attractive," you could just imagine Nancy batting her eyelashes at your sim.

Your jaw dropped.

HELL. NO.

You immediately made your sim grab Jake’s hand and kiss him right in front of her.

If this was real, you'd know Nancy’s smile would've dropped then and there. She would've just turned and stormed off like the diva that she is.

Jake Sim burst out laughing. "That was amazing."

Your sim smirked. "Told you I only have eyes for you." ˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚　

Weeks passed, and the day has come.

You’d been saving simoleons for weeks, scrimping on furniture and eating nothing but salad to afford the ring.

Finally, the day arrived.

You waited until sunset, directing your sim to lead Jake into the backyard, where you’d set up fairy lights and a picnic blanket.

Your palms were sweating. Both in-game and in real life. This was... uncharted territory.

With an insightful gaze, you turned to your screen.

Click. Propose

Your sim got down on one knee.

Jake Sim’s eyes widened.

"Jake… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Will you marry me?"

"Is that really how you intend to propose to me?" The soft, looming voice behind you finally let out his silky tone.

Your blood ran cold.

That voice. That laugh.

You whirled around—

And there he was.

Jake.

The real Jake.

With his arms crossed and his slightly damp hair, he grinned like he’d just won the lottery.

Your heart stopped.

"H-how long have you—?!"

"Long enough," he said, stepping closer. "I saw the entire playthrough. The bad cooking, the worse flirting, Nancy’s disastrous attempt at homewrecking—"

Your face burned. "Oh my god." You rolled a small distance between you and the desktop you were so quietly engaged with earlier.

Jake laughed, resting his chin on your shoulder as he continued to peer at the screen, where his sim was still frozen mid-gasp.

"Well?" He nudged you. "Aren’t you gonna make him say yes?"

With shaky hands, you clicked Accept Proposal.

Jake Sim tackled your sim in a hug, spinning him around as confetti rained from nowhere.

The real Jake chuckled, his warm breath heating your temple and pressing a damp kiss to your cheek.

"Cute. But next time… maybe ask the real Sim, yeah?"

You turned to him, heart hammering. "So… does that mean…?"

He winked. "Figure it out, Sim Master."

You swear your heart exploded right at that moment. Oh, you just know... Jake Sim will be the cause of all your deaths. That many.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — HOOOOHH i grow day by day loving jake... I just think he'd love the idea of us playing with a game version of himself ... but also would be 100% jealous and make you chase after him just to get on his good graces IDK FSAHFAKF honestly tho ... mmmhhh I love him sm I hope he knows how MUCH everyone appreciates and loves him toooo 😭😭💙💙

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

✦ 　.　　. 　 ˚　. ❝ωɛℓcσмɛ тσ тнɛ ρяɛƨƨ, ★ .　⋆ .  ˚ ⋆ ★ .　 ˚ ⋆. ˚ 　 . ★ ⋆ . αи∂ ʏɛƨ, ιт'ƨ α мɛƨƨ.❞ 　 .  ˚  ˚ . ⋆ . .✦

⋆ .  ˚　. ˚ [ ─ 𝓶𝓮 ─ ] [ ─ 𝓵𝓰𝓬𝔂 ─ ] [ ─ 𝓷𝓪𝓿2 ─ ] ˚  ˚ . ⋆

omg is he covering it because of that infamous open eye pic of him of what 😭

[SUNGHOON] Jjongssaeng HBD~

babygirl aha 😏🫰

ENHYPEN JAKE Behind Photo Sketch 📸

⋆｡°✩ in his warmth ✦ sim jaeyun

there's just something in the air when jake comes home all sweaty and tired –  honey-glazed skin and messy hair – there was definitely a storm brewing up inside…

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — sim jaeyun x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — fluff, then suddenly suggestive, and then ACTUALLY seggs soooo there's that, m!reader really wanna get that because who DOESNT, fun, y'all wanted this okay PART 2 !!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — I AM SIM JAEYUN DEPRIVED … I NEED HIM … minors or people who dont like male reader stuff LOOK AWAY DNI BYEEEE

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.8k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ looking for my main masterlist? — here's the legacy one!

The door clicks open with a tired sigh, hinges groaning as Jake shuffles inside.

You see it before he even speaks—the exhaustion clinging to him like a second skin. His shoulders are slumped, the proud line of his spine bowed under the weight of a long practice, his movements slow, deliberate, like every step is an effort. Sweat glistens on his temple, his golden skin flushed, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead in messy strands.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just drops his bag with a dull thud, toes off his shoes, and stands there for a moment, swaying slightly, as if he’s too tired to decide what to do next.

Your chest tightens.

You know this version of him—the quiet, drained Jake who gives everything until there’s nothing left. The one who pushes too hard, runs too long, forgets to stop. The one who needs to be reminded that he doesn’t always have to be strong.

So you don’t speak. Just open your arms.

And he comes to you like a man collapsing into an oasis.

His weight settles against you, warm and heavy, his forehead pressing into the crook of your neck. His breath gusts against your skin, uneven at first, then deepening as he finally lets himself relax.

You can feel the tremble in his muscles, the faint shiver running through him as your hands glide up his back, soothing, possessive.

“Tired,” he murmurs, voice thick, muffled against you.

You hum in response, fingers tracing the notches of his spine, the damp fabric of his shirt sticking to his skin. He smells like salt and exertion, like the sharp tang of effort and the faint sweetness of his cologne, worn thin by hours of movement.

You press your lips to his temple—just a quiet reassurance. I’ve got you.

He sighs, melting further into you.

Then, after a long moment, his fingers tighten in your shirt.

“Jake?” you murmur.

He doesn’t answer at first. Just shifts slightly, his breath hitching, like he’s wrestling with something. Then, softer than you’ve ever heard him, almost hesitant—

“Wanna feel you.”

Your pulse stutters.

“F-feel? Like what—?” You asked, not with hesitation, but just surprise. After all, he was tired.

“Like … you know,” Jake mumbled. “Inside …”

It’s not the words themselves—it’s the way he says them. Not demanding, not teasing, just… raw. Needy in a way that isn’t about lust, but about connection. Like he needs to be close, to be filled, to be yours in the most intimate way possible.

For a second, you just hold him, letting the request settle between you.

"Okay just…" You glanced around, the urgency in the air thickening between you both—hungry, impatient. The bedroom was too far, and the floor was too hard. "Let’s at least get to the couch."

Jake exhaled through his nose, lips pressing together in a fleeting pout—so close, he was so close to having you, and the delay was torture. But he nodded, fingers tightening in the fabric of your shirt as you guided him backward.

His steps were unsteady, his body already thrumming with anticipation, his mind dizzy with these selfish thoughts of you.

The couch welcomed you both, soft and familiar, but Jake barely registered it—all he could think about was you, you beneath him, your hands on him, your heat pressed against his.

The moment you sat, he was moving, shifting, his body surging forward before he could think better of it. He launched himself onto your lap, his weight crashing into you with a needy urgency, his thighs bracketing yours, his chest pressed flush against yours.

You chuckled, low and warm, and his stomach twisted. God, he loved that sound. Loved knowing he could pull it from you.

Your hands slid down, gripping his hips—steady, grounding—and Jake’s breath hitched. His fingers fumbled at your waistband, clumsy with desperation, trembling with the sheer want curling hot and insistent in his gut. He needed you now, needed to feel you, needed you inside him so badly his skin prickled with it.

"Fuck—" His fingers slipped, betraying him, and he let out a frustrated whine.

"Here," you murmured, voice rough and indulgent, and your fingers covered his, helping, guiding, freeing yourself for him.

The first brush of skin against skin sent a shiver racing down his spine. Yours. He was yours, and the thought alone made his pulse stutter.

He licked his lips, fingers flexing against your shoulders as he lifted himself just enough—just enough to press the head of your cock against his entrance, just enough to make his breath come in shallow, uneven bursts.

Then he sank.

Slow. Agonizingly slow.

Because he wanted to feel it. Wanted to savor the stretch, the burn, the way you filled him so perfectly, so completely. He bit his lip, lashes fluttering, throat working around a silent moan as he took you in inch by inch, his body adjusting, his muscles clenching around you as if to keep you there forever.

And then—then—when you were buried deep inside him, when he could feel you in his bones, he stilled.

His breath left him in a shaky exhale, his fingers digging into your shoulders like you were the only thing tethering him to this world. His lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his eyes—glazed, half-lidded—locked onto yours.

Yours.

All yours.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Not moving, not rushing—just feeling.

His breath steadies. His weight settles. His forehead drops back to your shoulder.

“There,” he whispers, voice rough. “Just like that.”

And for a long, quiet moment, that’s all there is—the two of you, tangled together, breathing in sync.

No words. No demands.

Just this.

There’s no rush. No frantic rocking, no desperate chase for friction—just the two of you locked together, his body snug around yours, so warm and so right. His arms loop around your shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t hold on.

His forehead rests against your collarbone, lips brushing your skin in lazy, open-mouthed kisses—not quite intentional, just the slow drag of his mouth as he nuzzles closer, drunk on your warmth.

“M-missed you,” he stutters, voice thick and sleep-soft, like the words are spilling out without his permission.

His hips shift in tiny, unconscious circles, barely enough to be called movement, just the faintest roll of his pelvis as his body seeks more of you. His rim flutters around your cock in quiet, involuntary pulses, each little clench pulling a low groan from your throat.

Jake whimpers in response, pressing even closer, chest to chest, like he wants to crawl inside your chest and stay there.

You tighten your grip on him, one hand splayed between his shoulder blades, the other cupping the nape of his neck. His skin is fever-hot under your palms, damp with sweat and trembling faintly with the effort of holding himself up. But he doesn’t pull away—just sinks deeper, his breath hitching as he adjusts to the stretch, the fullness of you.

“S’good,” he mumbles, words slurring together, voice wrecked already. “Just… just needed to feel all of you.”

It’s not about the sex. Never really was. It’s the way he breathes when you’re inside him—like his lungs finally remember how to work. Like he can only relax when there’s no space left between you, when he can feel your heartbeat against his own.

You stroke his back, tracing the damp lines of his spine, the ridges of muscle gone soft with exhaustion.

He melts further, boneless and pliant, his weight a perfect, grounding pressure in your lap. Time blurs—minutes or hours, it doesn’t matter. Not when Jake is like this, soft and sweet and yours, his body a living prayer against yours.

He shifts again, just slightly, and you feel the way his thighs tremble, the way his hole tightens around you as he chases the sensation—not for release, just for the feeling, the proof that you’re here, that he’s not alone.

“Don’t stop,” he breathes, voice cracking. “Don’t—don’t pull out. Not yet.”

As if you could.

You press a kiss to his temple, his cheek, the corner of his mouth—gentle, reverent. He sighs, blissed-out and hazy, lips parting under yours without demand, letting you take what you need. His fingers thread into your hair, not guiding, just holding, like he’s memorizing the shape of you.

You could stay like this forever: sticky with sweat, slow and heavy, senses full of him in every way that matters. And from the way he clings to you—like you’re the only thing keeping him anchored—you think maybe he could too.

You keep him close, your hands moving in slow, soothing strokes down his relaxed back, feeling the way his body gradually loosens in your hold—like a knot unraveling, like tension bleeding out of him with every exhale. His breathing evens out, warm puffs against your neck, his fingers still tangled loosely in your shirt, still holding on, even now, even when he’s too exhausted to do anything but melt into you.

He’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

The thought lodges in your chest, sharp and tender.

“You’re okay,” you murmur, lips brushing his temple, your voice so low it’s almost a rumble against his skin. “Just relax.”

Jake makes another soft, drowsy noise—half-sigh, half-whimper—his hips rolling in the faintest, laziest grind. It’s not deliberate, not really; just instinct, that part of him that needs you, that craves the proof of your presence deep inside him. His rim flutters weakly around your cock, and you bite back a groan, your fingers flexing against his back.

You could move. You could snap your hips up and chase your own pleasure, could fuck into that tight heat until he’s sobbing your name.

But this isn’t about that.

This is about the way Jake clings to you like you’re the only solid thing in his world. About the way his body opens for you so easily, so trustingly, like he was made to take you, like there’s no version of him that exists without your hands on him.

This is about love, slow and syrupy and aching in its sweetness.

“Love you,” he mumbles, barely audible, his voice thick with sleep, with you.

Your chest tightens. You press another kiss to his skin—his temple, the slope of his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth—your hands sliding down to cup the curve of his rear, holding him steady against you.

“Love you more.”

Jake huffs a tired laugh, nuzzling into your shoulder. “Nuh-uh.”

You smile, but don’t argue—just let your fingers drift between his legs, brushing feather-light over where you’re joined. The barest touch sends a jolt through Jake, his rim fluttering around your cock, achingly sensitive.

Oh fuck.

He shudders, a quiet whine escaping him, his hips twitching forward like he can’t help it. The friction is electric, overwhelming—your cock still buried deep inside him, your fingers teasing the stretched, tender rim around it. His body pulses with it, every nerve alight.

"S’too much," he slurs, voice thick, wrecked.

But he doesn’t pull away. Couldn’t if he tried.

Instead, he presses closer, his body yielding, opening up even more, like he’s made for this, made for you. His cock twitches where it’s trapped between your stomachs, already leaking, already so fucking desperate for more.

He’s always been like this—so responsive, so easy, falling apart under the barest touch.

And you know it.

Your fingers trace his rim again, slow, deliberate, and Jake whimpers, his thighs trembling. He can feel everything—the way his body grips you, the way your cock twitches inside him, the way your fingers tease just enough to make his breath hitch.

"Want me to fill you up?"

The question is low, rough, and Jake’s stomach tightens.

Yes. Yes. Fuck, yes.

He nods, barely lifting his head, his lashes fluttering as he meets your gaze. His eyes are half-lidded, dazed, his lips parted around shaky breaths.

"Please."

The word is wrecked, raw with want.

You don’t make him wait.

But you don’t rush, either.

You roll your hips up, just once, slow and deep, and Jake gasps, his fingers digging into your shoulders. The drag of your cock inside him is maddening, the pressure building, building—

And then you do it again.

Fuck.

Jake’s mouth falls open, a silent moan caught in his throat. He can feel it—the way your cock pulses inside him, the way your grip on his hip tightens, possessive, needy.

He’s so full.

So yours.

And when you finally spill inside him, hot and thick, he shudders, his body clenching around you, milking every last drop like he can’t bear to let you go. A weak little moan slips past his lips, his cock twitching between you, untouched but so fucking close—

"Fuck," he breathes, forehead dropping against your shoulder.

Because this?

This is everything.

“There you go,” you murmur, rubbing his back as he slumps against you, completely spent. “All yours.”

He hums, already halfway to sleep, his lashes fluttering against his cheeks. “M’yours,” he agrees, voice slurred.

And God, the way that settles in your ribs—like sunlight, like something too big to even name.

You kiss his forehead, holding him close as his breathing evens out, as his body goes slack and heavy in your arms. He’s out within seconds—warm, sated, and utterly content, still full of you in the best way.

And you? You don’t move. Not yet.

You’ll let him sleep just like this—sticky and sweet, your cum dripping lazily from his well-used hole, your cock still buried inside him, because Jake has always been clingy in the best way, and you wouldn’t have him any other way.

Because this?

This is home.

EN—D

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — okay … bottom jake agenda .. ESPECIALLY THAT FUCKING DELICIOUS EDIT OF HIM BITING AND SITTING AND BEING ALL CUTIE PATOOTIE FUCKKKKKKKK okay sorry guys i … im unhinged … asjfgiaa

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ [ch.1] for when you miss me

Songs on the charts, sold-out shows, the kind of career most musicians dream about—everything’s perfect. But success doesn’t fill the emptiness. And then, just when you think you’ve moved on—there he is. Your past, standing in front of you like a love song you never finished.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ pairing — park jongseong x male!reader

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ word count — 1.5k

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ tags — male reader, jay x reader, estranged exes to lovers, famous singer!reader because we're built like that, is this angst? i have no clue, memories of your past together just hits hard ughhhh, jay has a new lover omg the drama-mama-mamah, you are dramatic as hell but we love you for you, you are insane to still think of him, i understand though you are in love with jay we see each other WE SEE EACH OTHER, more to come!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ warning + notes — use of male pronouns, has some implied relationships, swear words, mentions and use of alcoholic substances, author's interpretation of the people in this fic might not reflect them irl, story update lengths may vary~

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love: the full masterlist [COMING SOON]

The stage lights are too bright.

They always are—blinding, artificial suns that bleach the room into a watercolor blur. You squint against them, fingers absently strumming your guitar as the crowd murmurs beneath the clink of champagne glasses.

The venue is all exposed brick and twinkling fairy lights, the kind of place you’d have mocked two years ago. Now, you’re just background noise to someone else’s love story.

"You’re up next." Leah’s voice cuts through the hum, her manicured fingers digging into your shoulder—nervous energy. The sequins on her dress catch the light like shattered glass.

"Play something romantic. But, like… not too romantic. Sarah’s grandma thinks love songs are ‘sinful.’"

You snort, plucking a sour note on purpose. "So, no ‘Careless Whisper’?"

"God, no." She grins, but it fades fast.

Her eyes dart toward the crowd, then back to you. "Hey… you okay? You’ve been a little bit pale lately—"

"I’m fine." The lie tastes stale. You twist a tuning peg too hard; the string protests with a sharp twang.

“Oop?”

“There it goes~”

“Psh.” Leah exhales through her nose.

"Heads up, but Jay’s here."

Your fingers freeze mid-strum. You think the discordant echo hangs in the air—a fitting soundtrack.

"Shit," you mutter.

"She was Sarah’s tutor, so she had to invite him," she adds, her voice low.

"Just… brace yourself."

Your stomach knots. "… anyone with him?’"

"Tall brunette girl. Clean fit with a high pony. Around our age. Pretty. A lawyer too, I heard?" Leah grimaces. "She’s got that whole ‘I do hot yoga and would destroy you in court’ vibe."

"Fantastic." You reach for your water bottle, but your hands betray you—trembling just enough to make the plastic crinkle. The condensation drips onto your jeans, cold and clammy.

You don’t look. Not at first.

Instead, you bury yourself in the set—some anemic Ed Sheeran cover, then a neutered Beatles rendition.

Safe. Soulless. Distracting.

The crowd barely reacts. A few aunties tap their heels; a groomsman drunkenly mouths "play ‘Wonderwall’" at you. You ignore him.

But then Sarah, Leah’s new wife, commandeers the mic. Her grin is all mischief.

"Okay, time for a special request!" she announces like she’s not about to detonate a grenade in your chest.

"This one’s for all the hopeless romantics."

She looks at you with a grinning smile, almost teasing.

"Play Way Back Into Love!"

Of fucking course.

You haven’t touched this song since the breakup. Since … him.

Not because it’s hard—it’s easy, four chords and a melody so saccharine it should come with a dental warning—but because it was yours. The song you and Jay butchered in the car, harmonizing off-key until your lungs ached. The one he’d hum against your collarbone at 3 AM, his voice gravelly with sleep.

Now, here it is. Taunting you.

You take a breath—shaky, unsteady—and start playing.

"I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…"

Your voice cracks. You clear your throat and try again.

"I’ve been sleeping with a cloud above my bed…"

And then—because the universe is a sadistic bastard—you look towards the audience.

There he is.

Jay.

Sitting at a table near the back, wearing something so elegant you know the gods made it for him and only him to wear. His hair is bleached now, swept to the side in a way that suggests actual effort, and his fingers are wrapped tight around his champagne flute, knuckles blanching white.

And at that moment? He’s staring at you.

Not the polite, detached gaze of an ex. No—this is raw, hungry like he’s trying to memorize the way your lips shape the words he once whispered against your skin.

Your brain short-circuits.

"I’ve been—uh—" You fumble the lyric. "Solitary… something."

A few guests chuckle, mistaking it for charm.

Jay doesn’t laugh. His lips part, just slightly, like he’s about to sing along—but then she leans in.

The girlfriend.

Tall, brunette, with the posture of someone who’s never slouched a day in her life. She murmurs something in Jay’s ear, her manicured hand settling on his forearm—possessive.

Jay flinches. Just once. Then he looks away.

And just like that, the spell breaks.

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

You flee the stage the second the song ends, beelining for the bar like it’s salvation.

"Whiskey. Neat please," you tell the bartender. "Actually, make it a double."

As you sit there all alone, the first glass burns; the second barely registers. You’re halfway through your third when that voice cuts through the haze.

"You still forget the lyrics."

You turn.

Jay’s standing there, smirking, but his grip on his drink is white-knuckled.

"Yeah, well," you shrug, "some things never change."

A beat of silence. And then:

"You still sound good," Jay says softly.

"You look good," you blurt.

Shit.

His cheeks flush pink, but he doesn’t call you out. "Thanks.”

Just then, you notice an unfamiliar motion near you, a person almost to your side.

“Uh… and this is Naomi." He gestures to the woman beside him.

"Hi, Naomi Natten." She says, extending a hand. Her grip is firm, her smile polished. "Jay’s told me a lot about you."

You force a grin. "All lies, I’m sure."

Jay chokes on his drink.

Naomi, oblivious, laughs. "He said you’re a great musician. And, uh…" She glances at Jay. "That you burn toast like it’s your job. Is that true?"

"Wow," you deadpan. "That’s what stuck?"

Jay’s expression flickers—guilt? regret?—before he forces a chuckle. "Among other things."

Another silence.

You then stare into your whiskey, searching for words that don’t exist.

"So," you finally say, "how’d you two meet?"

"Law school," Naomi says brightly. "He was assisting one of our professors in one of my course subjects. I then had the guts to torture him into asking me out."

Jay rolls his eyes, but there’s affection in it. "She’s joking. Mostly."

"Mhm." You swallow the rest of your drink.

"Congratulations." God, it’s burning hot.

Silence stayed for a minute and let a smooth breeze in before a loud soundtrack played in the middle of the venue.

“Wait, let’s dance!” Distracted, Naomi pulled Jay’s arm, talking as if you weren’t even there.

"W-We should go," Jay says abruptly. "But… it was good seeing you." His voice was faltering as the music drowned his cadence.

He hesitates like he wants to say more, but Naomi’s already steering him toward the dance floor.

You watch them go, whiskey burning your throat.

"Yeah," you mutter. "Good seeing you too."

˚　　✦　　.　. 　 ˚　.　 . ★⋆.　　✦　.　　.　 ˚　.　　✦　˚ 　　 ˚　.˚

It was quiet when you got home, the kind of silence that makes your ears ring. The wedding's music still echoed in your head, as if remnants of melodies that wouldn't leave you alone.

As heat crept up your body, you took off almost everything that wrapped you until you got to your room - your suit jacket first, then the tie that felt like it had been choking you all night, and finally those fancy shoes that never quite felt right.

Feeling the bits of tiredness and exhaustion from the event you played in, your eyes landed on a simple cardboard box in the corner. It sat there like a time capsule, gathering dust in the shadows of your bedroom.

As simple as it was, it wasn't ever just one. It was tons of stacked boxes, old and new, each one holding pieces of your past. It wasn't noticeable to anyone else, but every box with it was tucked into the side after you moved in almost eight months ago, like you were trying to hide them even from yourself.

Walking groggily, fighting against the whiskey still warming your blood, you manage to carry one of them and land it on top of your soft mattress. The cardboard felt rough under your fingers, worn at the edges from too many moves.

Scrounging through your messy stuff - old receipts, notes from physics, forgotten birthday cards, ticket stubs from concerts you barely remember - you notice a gleaming antique at the bottom of it all. An old CD case with a scratched plastic cover, the kind nobody uses anymore.

With one gust of air, you wiped down every dust on its surface, watching the particles dance in the dim light of your bedroom lamp.

Opening the case with shaking hands, you see a vintage disk that almost shone brightly with its rainbow colors, like an oil slick caught in sunlight.

The sharpie on the label has faded, but the words still gut you:

FOR WHEN YOU MISS ME — JAY

You pop it into your ancient CD player, just an arm’s length from the box you’ve got it from.

Right there, the first and only track plays. Silence plays in the back as dread looms over what could play from this relic of your past.

"I’ve been living with a shadow overhead…"

You close your eyes, lingering in the presence of his silky voice.

And for the first time in four years, you let yourself remember.

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ kai's notes — YOOOOOi never thought this day would come BUT does this qualify for angst? i'm not too sure cuz i've never really dove into the trope in terms of writing and also just had this asone of those dream fics i really wanted to write basedon tropes from the 2000s movies I oh so loved to watch RAHHHHH BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY ITTTTT also enha in la WOOO GO TEAM

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ story taglist — get in here and request down below!

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ can i join the masterlist? — sure! i do frequent posts and updates so just be warned! leave a reply on any posts and i'll add ya in the future updates, much love~ 

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✦⋆˚ way back into love : the full masterlist [COMING SOON]

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

he's working lateeeeeee cuz he's a singerrrrrrrr 🥹🫶✨

⌨ ✍