⋆｡°✩ Character Profiles

oh this needs to be put in a frame ... posted in the louvre ... this is a masterpiece ...

[JAY] 'ROMANCE : UNTOLD -daydream-' Selfies 📸

⋆｡°✩ 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 💘

you two just going out for dinner ... 😔🖐️🩵

⋆｡°✩ random texts with bf ni-ki pt. 1

u got texts // drabbles | nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: niki x male!reader

genre: fluff? crack? its a smau who cares 😭

notes: you guys are an established muh luh muh couple (not public tho) ANNNDDD also my first venture to smau and text stuff AND really wanted to have some text ideas for riki because ... because i love him so 😭🙏 so pls pls pls go ez on me 🙏

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hope you guys enjoyed it! please like, comment, or reblog~

my masterlist!

made by writhyv.

JSHSHSBS its always jay they messing with LMAO 😭😭

🎬 | Update on @ellekorea Instagram account.

AAAAAAAA !!!! IM MELTING IM MELTING!!!

credits to the owner

random but anything you guys still look forward to for me to write? really want to chat with u guys soooo pls reply if u can tho 😤😜

⋆｡°✩ [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

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

my masterlist! | made by writhyv 💘

⋆｡°✩ tfw a bad date leads to you...

tfw... | nishimura riki x male!reader

pairing: niki x male!reader genre: fluff word count: 2.3k warnings: drinking, implied stuff regarding drinking, implied stuff done by people when they encounter those who are wasted from drinking ...

Do you know that feeling when you meet someone so pretty it hurts your eyes a bit, and tugs your heart, and you feel like you're going to burst down in flames altogether where you stood? That's how exactly how you'll feel when someone just comes your way, being their cute little self.

"I'm tired." You sighed heavily as you rearranged the papers stacked neatly in front of you. It had already been a minute since you fiddled with them, not that you paid any attention to it anyway.

"Come on! It’s not like the end of the world if you tried getting out, right?" Thea, one of your co-workers, playfully tapped your back as she urged you to try another round of her matchmaking. To be honest, you had no confidence in getting anyone to date you with these blind dates. You just felt pity for your friend, however it may seem.

"I guess third time's a charm?" France, your other co-worker, leaned beside your desk. "You have to stop at some point, though. It’s still meeting strangers."

*Sigh.* Obviously, you sighed again.

"Fine, I'll go." You raised your hands in mock surrender. "But just because I don't want you to be sad, Thea."

"Yey! But it’s not for me; it’s for you!" Thea cheered. "It’s just one guy! We’ll have no idea if you don’t try now."

"Just be careful," France spoke, a hint of concern lacing his words as your friend. "The last time I saw you—"

"That was a mistake, France." You stood up quickly, adjusting your bag on your shoulder. "I should've just said no. Yet I insisted and got into some mess that you had to be called to rescue me. I still owe you for that."

France laughed quickly at this. "Pssh, it wasn't anything. You're my friend. It’s my job to look out for you."

"Uh-huh," Thea butted in, trying to suppress her laughter.

"Shut up, little person," France retorted quickly. "Best be on your way; I heard this guy booked you at 8."

"Yup! Just be on the dot!" Thea added, walking closer to you as you moved toward the elevator doors.

"Are they any better than the first guy?" you asked, feeling a flicker of hope. Maybe this guy might be worth a shot this time.

Thea laughed. "They will!"

"I'll hold you to that." You smirked as you saw the elevator doors open.

"Update us!" Thea waved as France settled behind her to see you off.

"Sure thing," you spoke as the elevator doors began to close.

The chime rang, and the shaft glided down the office floors you had grown accustomed to over the past year. Quickly getting a job after graduation had been a breeze, but all the things you had to do after that were another story. Living alone in the city was a hassle, especially with your boss’s constant demands since you were a new hire. It was probably because of your talent for working a little too hard that you might be a teensy bit gullible at this point, but oh well... It pays. So you might as well.

As for love, you never really had one. Not that it didn't interest you, but rather, you had waited for it, and it never came. You had never entertained anyone, but who would court someone as plain and boring as you? You worked hard enough to be buried in files and stacks of paperwork, so you never thought anyone would understand you on that level.

In some terms, you had given up already. But right now, it wasn’t the case. Right now, you were being given chances to see people. You never really had a preference for who to go out with—basically any type. You just wanted someone to look your way, and maybe it would spark that flame inside you too.

On your way to the bar, you saw a large sign on the side of a fancy-looking establishment. It read 'Retro Palace.' Not that it was important, but it sounded really generic. Instead of wallowing in the dilemma of the establishment's name, you stepped inside to see crowds of people. There was no way you could properly do a blind date in a place like this. Plus, you were never a club person. In fact, you hated parties and events that needed crowds. But maybe this was worth a shot. Maybe?

As you entered, you sliced through the middle of the pool of people, who were doing all kinds of things: dancing, shouting, conversing, and more. There was definitely a vibe that every person inside that place exuded.

You remembered you were supposed to go to the second floor, a platform dedicated to dining and feeling a lot more relaxed than the ground floor mess you were in. You spotted it clearly in the distance. A spiral staircase led to the top, where a small luxurious bar sat between rows of fine seats that could cater to just about anyone.

Feeling fancy, you adjusted your attire. It wasn’t your favorite combo, but you couldn’t refuse a gift from your co-worker. The suit was tight, and the colors didn’t really match your face. In any case, it still looked good with the way you carried it, but wearing it was definitely another case entirely.

As you tried to find the best seat, your phone rang. To your surprise, it was your supposed date.

"Oh, hey! I'm here." You smiled as you answered quickly.

"Yup, I can see you from where I'm sitting," the other person chuckled over the line, seemingly already inside the establishment.

"Oh? Where?" You turned to your sides to find the mysterious date.

"The nearest table to the bar. To your left." You squinted again to your left and found a guy standing and waving his hand. Looks like you’re in for a good night.

Although walking closer, it didn’t seem to click. As much as he was good-looking, there wasn't that connection you were hoping to find. It felt... odd. Maybe it was just the norm since you had never met this guy before. The night was still young.

As the guy opened up a seat for you, you thanked him for the gesture and settled in comfortably. He introduced himself.

"Hi! I'm Chang. You must be?"

"Yup, in the flesh," you nodded. Whoever Thea had connections with, she sure had many. This was the second guy she referred to, but it did seem she had a whole collection up her sleeve of people to refer. It seemed... concerning. But that was for another day.

The conversation started light, but as the minutes passed, you felt the disconnect grow. Chang had a pleasant demeanor, but your mind wandered. You were trying to connect, but something felt off.

“Have you been to any other places like this?” he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

“Not really. I prefer quieter spots,” you replied, feeling a mix of anxiety and discomfort.

“Ah, come on! You gotta live a little!” Chang laughed, but it felt forced, like he was trying too hard.

As you looked around, a waiter walked near and handed you two drinks. Chang clasped his hands around yours and served it on his own.

"Here. Got you a fine mix for the night. On me." Chang smiled broadly as he mixed your drink with the straw it came with. That was... a gesture for sure. You could only smile so wearily.

Chang then raised his drink and moved closer to you.

"To more chances of seeing your handsome face up close. Cheers." His eyes meticulously focused on you, prompting chills down your spine. Was this what real nerves were supposed to feel like? Or just cringe?

"Sure. Cheers." You could have never said that more tiredly. Almost doing it all for the sake of finishing the date, you drank the mix in one go. Chang's eyes widened at your action, but he nevertheless still enjoyed watching you unravel little by little.

As you took another sip from your glass, you felt the warmth intensifying, the drink beginning to take effect. The tension that had settled in your shoulders began to ease, and you found yourself laughing at Chang's jokes, even if they weren’t particularly funny.

“Alright, let’s play a game,” Chang suggested, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Two truths and a lie! I’ll go first.”

You leaned in closer, intrigued despite yourself. The game had a way of breaking the ice, and at this moment, you needed a distraction from the gnawing feeling of disconnect. Chang quickly rattled off his statements, and you found yourself engaged, playing along.

As the minutes turned into hours, you began to notice something unsettling about Chang. His laughter felt a bit too loud, his gestures a bit too exaggerated, and the way he leaned in closer made you feel uneasy. You brushed it off at first, attributing it to the atmosphere of the bar and the alcohol coursing through your veins.

“Another round?” Chang asked, his smile wide and inviting.

“Why not?” you said, raising your glass, feeling more adventurous than ever. You downed your drink, the sensation of the alcohol igniting a fire within you that you hadn’t expected. You weren't really a big fan of drinking, but when you did, you always tended to go all out.

But as the night wore on, the laughter grew quieter, and your surroundings began to shift. The edges of your vision blurred, and the sounds around you became muffled. You could sense the growing warmth of the alcohol wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

“Hey, I think I need a breather,” you mumbled, standing up unsteadily. The room swayed slightly, and Chang reached out to steady you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

“Let’s step outside for a bit,” he suggested, guiding you toward the exit. As you stepped outside, the cool air hit your face, but it couldn’t chase away the feeling of unease that settled in your stomach.

“Feeling good?” Chang asked, leaning in a little too close for comfort. His breath smelled of alcohol, and you could see the way his eyes roamed over you, making your skin crawl.

“Uh, yeah, just… need some fresh air,” you replied, trying to put some distance between you.

“Come on, don’t be shy. You know you had fun tonight,” he said, his tone dripping with false charm. “Why don’t we continue this party just the two of us?”

Your heart raced as you realized the implications of his words. “I think I should really be going,” you said, attempting to step back.

But Chang blocked your path, his expression shifting from playful to something darker. “Oh, come on. You’re not going to leave me hanging after all this fun, are you?” His gaze lingered a little too long, and the way he reached out to brush a stray hair behind your ear sent shivers down your spine.

“Seriously, I need to go,” you insisted, your voice trembling slightly.

“Just relax,” he said, his smile widening unnaturally as he leaned closer. “We can have a lot more fun. Just you and me.”

The panic set in, and before you could respond, the world around you began to blur again. You could feel the warmth of the alcohol wrapping around you like a heavy blanket, pulling you down into darkness.

“Hey, don’t you want to have a good time?” Chang’s voice echoed in yo̵u̸r̷ ̸m̵i̸n̶d̷ ̶a̷s̴ ̷e̶v̶e̸r̷y̷t̴h̵i̸n̸g̶ ̸f̷a̵d̵e̷d̵ ̶t̴o̶ ̶b̴l̸a̴c̸k̴.̷

Your eyes jolted awake, blinking against the sunlight streaming through a window. The air smelled of something delicious—bacon and eggs? As you looked around, a weight shifted, seemingly on top of you, and you looked down to find a small, fluffy dog staring intently at you.

Strange... It was a dog you vaguely recognized, who tilted his head, his big eyes full of curiosity. You couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, the dog's innocent demeanor contrasting sharply with the confusion swirling in your mind.

As you took in your surroundings, you realized you were in an unfamiliar room. The cozy space was decorated with simple but charming furnishings that felt oddly welcoming. The faint sound of sizzling came from the kitchen nearby.

“You're awake. That's good.” A calm voice called from that direction. You turned to see a figure moving about, clearly busy preparing breakfast.

“Uh, morning?” you managed to reply, your voice still thick with sleep.

“You must be hungry. You really knocked back those drinks last night.” A young man with a relaxed demeanor approached, holding a plate full of food.

Your heart sank slightly, memories of the previous night flooding back but feeling scattered and muddled. You recalled laughter, games, and warmth, but something about the night felt off, like a detail on the tip of your tongue that you couldn’t quite grasp.

"Wait... You're..."

"Not the guy you were with last night? Definitely." The young man smirked. "I'm Nishimu— I mean, just Ni-ki is fine."

You tilted your head, curious as to who this man was. He looked too young, too bright, and well ... too handsome. He only wore a grey tank top, exposing his bare arms that were a bit defined. Not that it mattered, he was in the comfort of his own home anyway. His eyes were sharp, but not piercing through you. Instead, they were filled with simple concern. As he sat next to you, he brushed stray hair from your face. With the way he treated you, you couldn't help but feel a light warmth buzzing over your cheeks. That was certainly... a reaction.

“Did I… did I spend the night here?” you asked cautiously, looking around as you distracted yourself from the thought you just had.

Ni-ki shrugged, his expression steady and thoughtful. “Yeah, you were out cold when we got back. I couldn’t just leave you on the street. You were shivering all over here. Bisco was worried, you know?”

You glanced at Bisco, who had jumped off the bed and was now wagging his tail happily, oblivious to your unease. "Oh... That's a nice name."

"Thanks..." "..." "Oh, you meant the dog? Cool. Cool, cool."

“...but thank you.” You replied, trying to keep your voice steady. “Also, I don’t really remember much after stepping outside.”

“Things can get a bit wild sometimes,” Ni-ki said, his tone calm but with an underlying sense of understanding. “You seemed like you were having fun, but it’s always good to be careful.”

Your heart raced as unease gripped you tighter. You felt trapped in a moment that should have been carefree, with Bisco’s warm presence only slightly comforting against the growing realization that something was very wrong.

oooh! cliffhanger! woo! hopefully i get to write more hehe. also ... niki ... 🥺💙 more stories? check out my masterlist

Omgg I love your writing esp your jake stories there's so little x male readers for him 😭😭😭 plss write more for him 🙏

WOW THANK U FIRST OF ALL 😭😭💓💓 ALSO yeah there's so much little jake x male!reader stuff out there (or even just enha x male!reader in general) probs because there's so little peeps interested in dynamics like that, ship content alr out instead, or just peeps afraid to write male people which is so sad like I WANT MORE TOOOOO 😭😭 BUT I'LL TRY MY BEST OKIE PLS STAY TUNED FOR MORE 🖐️🖐️🖐️