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#engene #04 jungwon biased

[softblaqn]

WELCOME TO THE MASTERLIST

SIM JAEYUN

MAYBE IT’S THE FEELINGS WE LOST ON THE WAY | angst | wc: 1k

DON’T WANT TO CHOOSE | idol!jake | slight angst, fluff, suggestive | wc: 2.6k

DON’T PRETEND YOU DON’T LIKE IT 18+ | nerd!reader x fwb!jake | smut 18+, some fluff (a tiny bit of it), some angst (?) toxic (!?!) | wc: 5.7k

[softblaqn]

DON’T PRETEND YOU DON’T LIKE IT|s.jy 18+

masterlist

pairings: nerd!f!reader x fwb!jake

genre: smut 18+, some fluff (a tiny bit of it), some angst (?) toxic (!?!)

wc: 5.7k

synopsis: you’re just trying to study, but jake shows up like he always does and won’t stop messing with you—teasing, bringing up other girls, and pushing you until you give in. it turns into the same toxic cycle again, where he gets exactly what he wants, stays just long enough to feel real, and then leaves like it never meant anything.

warnings: smut, dom!jake, degradation, praise, oral (f&m), piv, fingering, spanking (like 1 time), unprotected sex, pet names (good girl, baby, pretty,…), reader is being called a slut

lmk if i missed something

a/n: not proofread so i’m sorry for any spelling mistakes or if something doesn’t make sense.

alsooo it’s my first time writing smut so lmk what you think

⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

the room is too quiet.

not peaceful quiet—no, it’s the kind that presses in on you. the kind that makes every little sound feel louder than it should be.

your pen scratches against paper.

pause. scratches again.

you reread the same sentence for the fourth time, and it still doesn’t stick.

something about neural pathways. something about chemical signals.

none of it feels real.

your brain is too full. or maybe too empty.

you sigh quietly, pushing your hair back as you lean closer to your notes, like proximity will somehow force the information into your head.

it doesn’t. nothing does. and then—

the faint sound of a door unlocking.

you don’t react. not at first.

it doesn’t fully register until there’s a soft click, followed by the familiar sound of keys hitting your desk.

you flinch. your head snaps up— and there he is.

Jake.

like he belongs here. like this is his place just as much as it is yours.

“you didn’t even hear me come in?” he says, eyebrows lifting slightly, amused in that way he always is when he catches you off guard.

you blink at him.

“you still have that key?”

he shrugs, already moving further into the room like your question doesn’t matter. like the answer is obvious.

“you gave it to me,” he says simply. “not my fault you forgot.”

you didn’t forget. you just didn’t think he’d actually use it anymore.

he drops his jacket on the chair, kicks off his shoes halfway across the room, and then—without asking—falls back onto your bed.

like he’s done it a hundred times. like he always does.

you stare at him for a second longer than you should. then you turn back around.

“i’m studying.”

“yeah,” he hums behind you, voice muffled slightly by your pillow. “i can see that.”

you try to ignore him. you really do.

you pick up your pen again, eyes scanning your notes, forcing yourself back into focus.

but jake doesn’t do quiet.

he never has.

“how long have you been at it?” he asks.

“a while.”

“define a while.”

you sigh. “since this afternoon.”

“that’s…” he pauses. “kind of insane.”

you don’t respond.

“you’ve been like this a lot lately,” he adds, shifting slightly on the bed. you can hear the sheets move. “always studying when i come over.”

you stop writing. just for a second.

“maybe because i actually have things to do.”

“wow,” he lets out a soft laugh. “didn’t know i was interrupting something so important.”

you glance at him over your shoulder.

he’s laying on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting lazily on his stomach. completely relaxed. completely unbothered.

it annoys you. just a little.

“you are,” you say. he grins. “you like it.”

you roll your eyes, turning back around. “i don’t.”

“you do,” he insists, voice softer now. “you’d tell me to leave if you didn’t.”

you don’t answer that.

because he’s not wrong. and he knows it. that’s the worst part.

a few seconds pass.

“what are you even studying again?”

“bio.”

“bio…” he repeats, like he’s testing the word. “so… like the human body?”

“yes.”

“like how it works?”

“yes, jake.”

“like how it reacts to things?” you pause.

just for a second.

“…yes.”

there’s a beat of silence. then—

“interesting.”

you close your eyes briefly.

you already know where this is going. “jake—”

“what?” he says lightly. “i’m just asking questions.”

you don’t turn around this time.

you just shake your head, trying to refocus.

it doesn’t work. because he keeps going.

“so if someone’s, like… stressed,” he continues, voice slow, thoughtful in a way that feels anything but innocent, “their body reacts differently, right?”

you press your lips together.

“yeah, obviously.”

“heart rate, breathing…”

“yes.”

“tension.”

“…yes.”

“and what about distractions?” he asks. “does that affect it too?”

you exhale slowly. “everything affects it.”

“huh.” you can hear the shift in his tone.

the curiosity isn’t real. it never is.

“you ever get distracted while studying?” he asks.

“no.”

“liar.”

you grip your pen tighter.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cuts in easily. “you get distracted every time i’m here.”

you don’t respond. but your silence says enough.

you hear him sit up. the mattress dips.

“you’re doing it right now,” he adds.

you turn your head slightly. “i’m literally studying.”

“no,” he says, softer now. closer. “you’re thinking about me talking.”

your stomach twists.

annoyance. something else.

you turn back around quickly.

“you talk too much.”

he laughs at that. “and you like listening.”

“i don’t.”

“you do,” he repeats, quieter now. “or you’d make me shut up.”

you don’t.

you never do.

time passes. you’re not sure how much.

minutes, maybe. maybe longer.

your notes blur together again. and jake— he doesn’t stop.

sometimes he’s quiet for a few seconds, like he’s letting you breathe.

and then—

“what happens if you fail?”

you freeze. “i won’t.”

“but if you did?” he presses.

you sigh. “why would i think about that?”

“because it’s fun.”

you almost laugh.

“failing is fun?”

“no,” he says. “you getting all worked up about it is.”

you shake your head. “i wouldn’t.”

“you would,” he insists. “you’d overthink it. stay up all night. probably call me at, like, 3 a.m. beg me to come over and make you feel better.”

you hesitate. just for a second. “…i wouldn’t call you.”

he notices. of course he does. “no?” he says softly.

you don’t answer. there’s a pause.

until—

“i was with someone earlier.”

your pen stops moving. just like that. the air shifts. he says it so casually. like it doesn’t mean anything. like it shouldn’t affect you.

you stare at your notes. “…okay.”

“she asked about you.”

you swallow. you hate that your chest tightens.

“what’d you say?” you ask, trying to keep your voice neutral.

there’s a small pause. you can feel it. him watching you. waiting.

“that you’re just someone i hang out with.”

your jaw tightens. “good,” you say quietly. “that’s what we are.”

“yeah?”

you nod slightly.

even though he can’t see it. “yeah.”

he hums. like he doesn’t believe you. like he’s filing that response away for later.

the silence stretches.

you try to go back to studying. you really do. but the words don’t make sense anymore. they just sit there on the page, meaningless. blurred.

“she wasn’t as quiet as you,” he adds suddenly.

your grip tightens again. you don’t respond.

“kept talking,” he continues. “asking questions. kinda annoying.”

you huff softly. “then why were you with her?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “bored, i guess.”

you turn your head slightly.

“wow. charming.” he laughs.

“what? you think i have standards or something?”

you don’t answer. and that—that seems to amuse him more.

“you’re different, though,” he says after a second.

you frown slightly. “how?”

“you don’t try so hard.”

you blink. “i’m literally ignoring you right now.”

or at least attempting to.

“exactly,” he grins. “most people don’t do that.”

you roll your eyes, but something about that lingers. sticks. you don’t try. and yet— he’s here. on your bed. in your space. like he chose this. like he chose you. and you hate that it matters. even a little.

“hey.” you don’t respond. “hey,” he repeats, softer.

you glance back. he’s sitting up again. closer now. you didn’t notice when he moved.

“what?”

his eyes flick over your face. your notes. your hands. “you’ve been stuck on that page for, like, twenty minutes.”

you look down. he’s right. you didn’t even realize.

“i’m fine.”

“you’re not.”

“jake—”

“you’re overthinking,” he says simply. “again.”

you exhale. “i just need to focus.”

“you have been focusing all day.”

“and i need to keep going.”

he watches you for a second.

then— he stands.

you feel it before you see it. the shift in the room. the way his presence gets closer. he stops right behind your chair.

“you’re tense,” he murmurs.

“i’m not.”

“you are.” his hands land on your shoulders.

and everything— everything pauses. your breath. your thoughts. your pen stills in your hand. his touch is warm.steady. familiar.

“jake…” you breathe out.

“relax,” he says quietly.

his thumbs press lightly into your shoulders, slow, deliberate. not enough to hurt.

just enough to make you notice. to make you feel it. your eyes flutter shut for a second. you hate that your body responds so easily.

“you’re gonna burn yourself out,” he continues. “and then what?”

“then i’ll be done.”

“or you’ll crash,” he counters softly. his fingers shift slightly. brushing your neck.

your pulse jumps. “i’m fine,” you repeat, weaker this time.

he hums. unconvinced. “take a break.”

“i don’t have time.”

“you have a minute.”

“i don’t—”

his fingers slide just a little higher. just enough to interrupt your thoughts. your words. “one minute,” he murmurs.

your breath catches. and that’s where it starts to slip. just a little. just enough.

“one minute,” he murmurs.

you inhale sharply when his lips finally press

properly against your neck.

not soft this time. not hesitant.

wet, warm, lingering in a way that immediately makes your thoughts scatter.

“jake—” it comes out weaker than you want.

he hums against your skin like he expected that. like he likes that.

“relax,” he mutters, barely pulling away, just enough to speak before leaning back in again. “you’re too in your head.”

his hand slides from your shoulder to your waist, steady, grounding—but there’s something tighter in his grip now. less patient.

your fingers twitch against the edge of the desk.

“i need to study,” you try again.

he exhales a quiet laugh against your neck “you’ve been ‘studying’ for hours.”

another kiss. slower. then sharper.

“you’re not even reading anymore.”

you hate that he’s right. you hate it more that he knows.

“just—” you start, but your voice falters when his hand presses more firmly into your side, pulling you back against him.

closer.

“just what?” he murmurs.

you don’t answer. you can’t.

his lips drag slightly along your skin before settling again, and your head tilts back without permission.

he notices immediately.

“yeah,” he breathes. “that’s what i thought.”

your grip tightens on the desk.

you should move.

step away.

create space. but instead—

you stay.

and that’s all he needs.

his patience thins fast after that.

you feel it in the way his hands move—less careful, more certain.

like he’s done waiting for you to decide.

“you always do this,” he mutters, almost to himself. “pretend you don’t want it until you can’t ignore it anymore.”

“that’s not true,” you whisper.

“it is,” he says, sharper now.

his hand slides up your side, then back down again, restless.

“you think i don’t notice?” he adds. “the way you go quiet when i talk about other people?”

your stomach twists. “i don’t care.”

he stills for half a second. just enough for you to feel the shift.

his grip tightens. “don’t lie,” he says quietly.

it’s not loud. but it hits harder.

“i’m not—”

“you are,” he cuts in, his mouth pressing back to your neck—harder this time, more insistent. “and it’s annoying.”

your breath stutters. “why?”

he exhales against your skin, almost like he’s irritated with himself.

“because you act like you don’t want me,” he mutters.

your heart skips.

“and then you get like this.”

his fingers press into your waist again. keeping you there.

“and you don’t stop me.”

you don’t. you never do. and he knows it. that’s what makes him worse.

he turns you suddenly. not rough enough to hurt—but fast enough that it throws you off. your back brushes the desk, your hands instinctively coming up—grabbing onto him without thinking.

his eyes flick down to that. then back up. something in them shifts. darker. hungrier.

“see?” he murmurs. “you don’t push me away.”

you swallow. “i just—”

“you just what?”

you don’t have an answer. and he doesn’t wait for one.

his hand comes up to your jaw, thumb pressing lightly—tilting your face up again.

“look at me,” he says.

you hesitate. then you do. and that’s your mistake. because the second your eyes meet his, he leans in— and kisses you. hard. no teasing. no slow build. just heat and pressure that knocks the breath out of you.

your fingers clutch tighter at his shirt. he exhales into your mouth, almost like relief. like he’s been waiting for this.

“there it is,” he mutters.

he pulls back just enough to look at you. your lips parted. your breathing uneven. exactly how he wanted.

“you get like this so fast,” he says, softer—but there’s something sharp underneath it. “all it takes is a little attention.”

your chest tightens. “that’s not—”

he kisses you again. cuts you off completely. this time slower—but deeper. like he’s proving a point. like he wants you to feel exactly how much control he has here.

his hands don’t stay still. they move constantly now—your waist, your back, your arms—like he needs to keep you close.

like he’s afraid you’ll slip away if he doesn’t. but his grip never actually loosens.

“you should’ve just said you wanted me,” he murmurs against your lips.

“i didn’t know you were coming.”

“you always want me,” he says quietly.

not teasing. not joking. like it’s fact. like it’s obvious.

your silence only feeds it.

he huffs a quiet breath, something frustrated slipping through.

“i was with someone earlier,” he adds suddenly.

your stomach drops. again. you hate that it still works. even now. even like this.

your hands tense against him. and he feels it. of course he does.

“see?” he murmurs, almost satisfied. “there it is.”

“stop,” you whisper.

“why?” he tilts his head slightly. “you said you don’t care.”

you don’t answer. because you can’t. and he leans in again, voice dropping.

“if you didn’t care, you wouldn’t react like that.” his thumb brushes your lip again. slow. intentional. “but you do.”

your breath comes out uneven. “you don’t get to—”

“i do,” he interrupts. and this time— it’s not playful. it’s not teasing. it’s controlled. low. “because you let me.”

your heart pounds. because he’s right. again.

his forehead presses briefly against yours. for a second—just a second—he goes quiet. his breathing uneven. like he’s trying to steady himself. but it doesn’t last. it never does.

“you’re not studying anymore,” he mutters.

you barely register the words.

“your notes are right there,” he continues, glancing past you. “and you’re still here.”

his hand slides down your arm, then back up again. slower now. but heavier.

“so what does that say?”

you don’t answer. you can’t.

he leans in again, lips brushing yours without fully kissing you.

“say it,” he murmurs.

you shake your head slightly. “no.”

his grip tightens instantly. “say it.” there’s no teasing in it this time. just pressure.

“…i got distracted,” you admit quietly.

he exhales. something almost like satisfaction. “yeah,” he murmurs. “that’s better.” his lips press to yours again— and this time, he doesn’t hold back.

his hands pull you away from the desk. your steps are uneven, unsteady, but he doesn’t slow down. doesn’t give you time to think. to stop.

you hit the edge of the bed, and he doesn’t pause—just follows, pushing you down with him. hovering. watching.

your chest rises and falls too fast. he notices. he always notices.

“look at you,” he says, voice quieter now—but heavier. “you were so focused earlier.”

his thumb brushes your cheek. mocking. soft.

“what happened, hmm?” he hums. “what happened to my little nerd?”

you don’t answer. you just look at him. and that’s enough for your next move.

this time it’s you who pulls him into a sloppy, desperate kiss, pushing him down on your bed as he spreads his legs right away.

then you move, your lips travel down his neck while your hands move to his thighs. eventually you ended up on your knees, facing his already hard dick.

he doesn’t rush you. not at first. that’s what makes it worse.

his eyes stay on you—watching, waiting—like he wants to see if you’ll hesitate. if you’ll stop. you don’t.

slowly, you push his sweats down, his boxers following shortly after. The way his dick bounced back with force against his abs was already making you feel all types of tingles.

your hands hover for a second before wrapping around his aching cock, unsure at first—like you’re still catching up to what’s happening.

he notices immediately.

“what?” he murmurs, voice low, almost mocking. “you forgot how this works?”

your cheeks heat. you shake your head slightly, starting to pump him, but your movements are still slower than what he needs. careful. hesitant. and that— that’s exactly what sets him off.

his hand comes down over yours, guiding—firm, impatient. his pre-cum leaking out of his angry tip.

“don’t act clueless now,” he mutters. “you weren’t acting like this a minute ago. and it’s also not your first time.”

your breath catches at the sudden shift.

he leans closer, his presence overwhelming again, like he’s closing in on all sides.

“you were pulling me in,” he continues. “remember?”

you nod faintly.

“then stop pretending.”

his grip loosens just enough to let you move—but his hand doesn’t leave.

it lingers. hovering. ready to correct you. control you.

“go on,” he says quietly. not soft. not gentle. expectant.

you swallow, trying to steady yourself, your movements still a little unsure—but more certain than before.

because you know what he wants. and he knows you know.

that’s what makes it feel so heavy. so charged.

you finally wrap your lips around him as he lets out a sigh of both relief and pleasure. your eyes look up at him, watching him carefully. hollowing your cheeks, you take him deeper, groaning around him and closing your eyes, focusing back on pleasuring him.

“there you go, baby,” he murmurs after a second, voice dropping slightly. approval. but not fully. never fully.

“took you long enough.”

your chest tightens at that. and he sees it. his hand shifts again, tilting your chin just slightly so you have to look at him again.

“don’t look like that,” he says, quieter now. “you’re the one who wanted this.”

your lips part—but nothing comes out. because he doesn’t give you time. he never does.

“focus,” he mutters. his tone isn’t harsh. but it isn’t kind either. it’s controlled. like he expects you to follow. and you do.

your movements get more confident—less hesitant. and that’s when his composure starts to slip. just a little. his breathing changes.his grip tightens on your hair.

“yeah…” he exhales under his breath. your stomach flips at the sound—never really getting used to it. it’s the first real crack in him.

the first sign that this is affecting him too. but instead of softening— it makes him worse.

“see?” he says, voice uneven now. “not that hard.” his hand pulls on your hair, grounding himself. as your head bops up and down his shaft, a slow deliberate rhythm, feeling him swell and harden further with each stroke.

“you act like you don’t know what you’re doing,” he adds. “but you do.” there’s something sharper in his tone now. something more possessive. “only with me.” that lands. hard.

you moan around him, taking his dick even deeper, your hands squeezing his thighs. he watches your reaction closely. like he’s waiting for it. feeding off it.

“yeah,” he murmurs when you don’t deny it “that’s what i thought.”

“go on,” he groans out after a second. “yeah just like that. you love how i fill that mouth of yours, huh?” he pulls your hair even harder.

you quickened your pace, your hands moving to cup his balls, feeling their heavy weight against your palm. you squeezed gently, eliciting another groan from him.

you could only answer with another moan.

he arched his back, his hips pushing into your mouth with more force. “yeah, just like that. you know exactly what i like.” his fingers tightened in your hair, a gentle tug. “you’re such a dirty little slut for me, aren’t you?”

then you feel his hips thrust into your mouth, “mhh, let me use that mouth. at least you’re useful for something..” he hums.

tears start forming in your eyes as you feel his dick go deeper down your throat, whimpering.

“aww, and now you’re crying?” he coos, “feels too good?” you couldn’t help but nod, despite the tears falling down your flushed cheeks.

“you gonna make me cum? hm, baby?” his pitch rises.

his breathing grew ragged, his body trembling slightly. “I’m so close, pretty. don’t stop.”

you intensified your efforts, sucking harder, faster, your tongue swirling around the head of his cock, trying to tease every last bit of pleasure from him. you felt the pulse of his erection against your tongue, felt the tension coil within him.

his eyes drift down to your clothed heat, noticing your hand that unnoticeably travelled down. playing through your panties trying to ease the heat.

that’s when some more moans left his plump lips. “are you getting needy, pretty?” once again, nothing besides a moan left your own lips.

With a final, guttural groan, he bucked into your mouth, a hot gush of cum flooding your throat. you swallowed, some of it spilling from the corners of your lips, a thick, salty liquid.

you pulled away, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, your eyes still downcast. “Good girl,” he mumbled , his voice softer now, sated.

“mhm, c’mere..” he breathes out.

then he finally pulls you up—it’s not gentle. not rough enough to hurt. but enough to remind you who decided this. who started this. his hand comes to your jaw again, lifting your face.

a thin trail of his cum and some spit glistened on your chin. he reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away, then tracing the curve of your jaw. your breathing uneven. your focus completely gone. he studies you for a second. then smirks.

“look at you,” he murmurs. “can’t even think straight anymore.”

your chest tightens. but you don’t argue. you can’t.

he leans in, brushing his lips against yours again. slower this time. but heavier.

“this is what you wanted, hmm.” he says quietly. it doesn’t feel like a question. “this is what you needed.”

he grabs your waist firmly, pulling you towards him. then he slowly pulls your shirt up, leaving you in your bra which both ended up on the floor with the other clothes.

you felt a moan escape your lips, your body arching into his touch and jake only chuckled at your reaction, a low, satisfied sound. “there you are..” you felt the cool air against your skin, your nipples hardening in response. he leaned down, his lips capturing one, his tongue swirling around the bud.

you gasped, your hands tangling in his fluffy hair, your body pressing against his. He groaned, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you closer, his hips pressing against yours.

he moaned against your nipple, his mouth switching to the other. “fuck, baby. i need to taste you.” in one swift motion he flipped you guys over, him now being ontop. he left wet kisses on the way down to your dripping pussy. kissing your inner thighs, then ran his finger over your clothed lips.

“so wet for me. and you said you didn’t need me..” he huffed, his fingers moving to your panties, pushing them aside.

he leaned down, his tongue flicking out, licking you, tasting you, adding fingers to deeper your pleasure. you gasped, your body arching off the bed, your hands once again tangling in his hair.

he hummed, the sound vibrating through you, before he began to feast on you, his tongue moving in circles, his fingers moving in and out, stretching you, preparing you.

"you taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, his fingers moving faster, his tongue moving harder. "so fucking sweet. i could eat you out all day."

you moaned, your body already pulsing with need, your orgasm building, building, until he stopped.

you let out a loud whine at his missing touch, “jake..”

“hmm, tell me— tell me what you need.” he leaned up to press a wet kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself.

“you. please.. i—your fingers.” you beg, still whining.

jake moved to your ear, whispering, “yeah? you think you deserve to cum?”

“jakey.. please. i promise i’ll be good.” your nails were now scratching his back, your desperation showing.

a smirk only formed on jake’s lips as he dove in again. his tongue tasting you once again, his fingers in you again as his thumb adds pressure to your clit.

your orgasm starts building again, the pace of his fingers much faster than before. then it crashed over you, your body convulsing, your hands tight in his hair.

he didn't let up, his fingers moving faster, his tongue moving harder, drawing out your orgasm, making it last, making it intense.

he pulled back, his gaze locked on yours, his fingers still moving inside you. "thats right, let me hear you, pretty," he growled, his thumb returning to your clit, rubbing it, making you gasp, making you moan. "you ready for my cock?" he asks as he holds your jaw in place, making you look at him.

he doesn’t give you time to recover. that’s the first thing you notice. the second is that something about him has changed. whatever restraint he had before (which he barely had tbh)—it’s gone. completely.

his hand stays on your jaw, holding your face in place as he looks at you. really looks at you. like he’s trying to memorize this version of you. or own it.

“you look better like this,” he murmurs.

your chest rises unevenly. “like what?”

his thumb of his hand presses lightly against your lower lip. not gentle. just enough to make you feel it.

“not talking back.”

your stomach twists.

“i wasn’t—”

“you were,” he cuts in immediately. his grip tightens just slightly. “earlier,” he adds, quieter. “acting like you didn’t need me.”

his eyes narrow a little. not angry. worse. possessive. “you don’t act like that now. and now look how cute you look all fucked out.”

your breath catches. because you don’t. and he knows it.

“see?” he murmurs, almost satisfied. “this is what i meant.”

he leans in again, kissing you slower this time—but heavier, like every movement is deliberate now. like he’s in control of the pace. of you.

his hand slides from your jaw down your neck, resting there for a second before tightening just slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough to hold. to remind.

“you should be grateful,” he says quietly against your lips.

your heart stutters. “for what?”

he pulls back just enough to look at you. there’s a faint smile there. but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “that i come here.”

your chest tightens. “jake—”

“no, seriously,” he continues, voice calm in a way that makes it worse. “out of everyone, i’m here.”

his hand presses lightly at your throat again. not forceful. just there. “with you.”

you don’t answer. because you don’t know how to. and he takes your silence as agreement. he always does.

“exactly,” he mutters.

his hands move again. more decisive now. less wandering.

he pulls you closer, shifting you beneath him like it’s natural—like this is where you were always supposed to end up.

like you didn’t have a choice in it.

“don’t start overthinking again,” he warns quietly.

your fingers curl into his shirt. “i’m not—”

“you are,” he interrupts. “i can see it.” his forehead presses briefly against yours. “just stay like this.”

it almost sounds soft. almost. but the way his grip tightens again ruins it.

“don’t ruin it.”

your breath catches. because somehow— it feels like a threat. “now tell me you want my cock.” he commands.

you hesitated for a moment, your body already aching with need, your mind already clouded with desire. "i want it, jake," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "i want your cock."

he smiled, a slow, dangerous smile, his fingers moving faster, harder. "good girl. knew you couldn’t resist," he growled, his other hand moving to his cock, stroking it, getting it ready. "you're gonna take it like a good girl, aren't you, baby?"

you nodded, your body already pulsing with need, your mind already forgotten.

he pulled his fingers out of you, his hands moving to your hips, flipping you over, pushing you up onto your hands and knees. He positioned himself behind you, his hands tight on your hips, his cock pressing against your entrance.

you looked back at him, your gaze meeting his, and then you pushed back desperation taking over your body, taking him in, your body stretching to accommodate him.

he groaned, his hips moving, fucking you, his hands tight on your hips, guiding you, setting the pace.

“yeah, feels fucking good, doesn’t it?” he groans out receiving a moan out of you, “you should be grateful i’m fucking you right now and not some other girl.”

you moaned, your body already pulsing with need, your mind already forgotten. he leaned down, his hands moving to your breasts, cupping them, his fingers pinching your nipples. you gasped, your body arching into his touch, your mind already clouded with desire.

“but you’re only mine to fuck, aren’t you, baby?” his thrust go deeper, almost claiming.

“yes. yes jake- i’m yours..” you whimper, your nails digging into the mattress.

"fuck- your tits are so fucking perfect," he growled, his hands moving to your hips, pulling you back, fucking you harder, faster.

you felt your orgasm building, building, until it crashed over you for a second time, your body convulsing, your hands tight in the sheets.

he didn't let up, his hips moving faster, harder, drawing out your orgasm, making it last, making it intense. "fuck, baby, i'm gonna come," he panted, his hands tight on your hips, his hips moving faster, harder. "you gonna take it, huh? gonna take it like the good slut you are?"

nodding you let out another moan. “yes jakey.”

“gonna let me fill that pussy huh?” you whine as you feel his hand spank you ass.

you nodded, your body already pulsing with need, your mind already forgotten. he came with a groan, his cock pulsing inside you, his hands tight on your hips.

“yeah… just like that,” he mutters, voice uneven.

his grip tightens on your hips. grounding himself through you again.

“see?” he adds, breath heavier now. “you act like you don’t need this, but look at you.”

your head turns slightly, trying to catch your breath. he notices immediately. his hand comes back to your jaw, turning you toward him again. “don’t look away.”

you freeze.

“look at me.”

your eyes meet his. and he holds it there. forces it. “good,” he murmurs.

he pulls out, replacing his dick with his fingers, pumping in and out, not letting any of his precious cum leak out of you.

“you’re only like this with me,” he says quietly. not a question. a statement.

“don’t act like you’re not.”

your chest tightens as you only gasp. because you don’t deny it. you can’t. he huffs a quiet breath. almost a laugh. “exactly.”

his lips press briefly to yours again—short, sharp, almost possessive. “so stop pretending.” then he pulls his fingers out too.

his body still hovering above you.

after that— everything slows. but not in a soft way. in a heavy one. like the tension hasn’t fully left the room. like it’s still sitting there between you. his breathing gradually steadies. his grip loosens. just slightly. just enough to feel the difference.

he looks at you again. really looks. and for a second—just a second—something softer slips through.

“you okay?” he asks. it almost sounds real.

you nod faintly.

he brushes your hair back, fingers slower now. gentler. like none of the last few minutes happened. like he didn’t just break you down piece by piece.

“good,” he murmurs.

his thumb traces along your cheek. light. careful.

it’s confusing. the switch. it always is.

he pulls you into him after that. arms wrapped around you, holding you close like it means something. like you mean something. his chin rests lightly against your head. his hand moving absentmindedly along your arm. soft. steady.

the complete opposite of before.

“stay,” you mumble, voice quiet, tired.

he pauses for half a second. “yeah,” he says. just like that. easy. like it’s obvious. like he wouldn’t leave.

his hand presses gently against your back. slow, calming motions. “go to sleep,” he murmurs.

and you do. because you’re exhausted. because your thoughts are too tangled to stay awake. because when he’s like this—it’s easier to believe him.

you don’t feel when he pulls away. you don’t hear when he gets up. you don’t see the way he stands there for a second—just looking at you. quiet. distant again. like whatever just happened didn’t stick to him the same way it did to you.

he grabs his jacket. his keys. hesitates—just briefly. then leaves. the door clicks shut softly. the room goes quiet again. just like before.

when you wake up—he’s gone. of course he is. your room looks the same. your notes still scattered across your desk. your pen exactly where you left it. like nothing changed.

except—you feel it. everywhere. you sit up slowly, glancing toward the door. empty. your chest tightens. but not in a new way. in a familiar one. you reach for your phone. no messages. no “i got home.” nothing.

you stare at the screen for a second longer than you should. then set it back down. because this—this is normal. this is how it always goes.

he stays until you fall asleep. and then he leaves.like he was never meant to stay longer than that.

your eyes drift back to your notes. still unfinished. still waiting. you should go back to studying. you know you should. but instead—you just sit there. quiet. thinking about the way he said it.

you should be grateful.

and the worst part? a small part of you—still is.

[softblaqn]

DON’T WANT TO CHOOSE

masterlist

pairings: idol!jake x f!reader

genre: slight angst, fluff, suggestive

wc: 2.6k

synopsis: after a difficult day of practice, jake finally breaks down and admits to you how terrified he is of losing you while chasing his dream as an idol. wrapped up together in the comfort of your bed, you reassure him that you never want him to choose between love and ambition. with soft kisses, teasing, and quiet affection, jake learns that home has always been wherever you are.

the mirrors in the practice room made everything feel sharper.

every mistake looked bigger reflected back at him. every missed count, every half second of hesitation, every moment his mind slipped somewhere else and left his body to catch up on its own.

jake wiped at the sweat on his jaw with the back of his hand, chest rising too fast. the music still pulsed through the speakers, bass vibrating under his sneakers, but it felt distant somehow. muffled. like he was underwater.

“again from the chorus.” the choreographer’s voice cut through the room. everyone reset.

Heeseung stretched beside him, rolling his shoulders. “you good?”

jake nodded automatically. “yeah.” it was a lie so easy it almost scared him.

the beat dropped again. they moved.

jake’s body knew the steps. years of training had carved rhythm into his bones, taught him how to hit every beat clean, how to make movement look effortless even when his muscles burned.

but today something was off. his thoughts kept slipping.

to your laugh from last night over facetime when you were telling him about the weird old lady at the grocery store who’d accidentally stolen someone’s cart.

to the way your hair had looked falling into your face when you yawned.

to the quiet in your voice when you’d said, “you sound tired.”

to the fear that had been sitting under his ribs for months now.

the kind that didn’t go away just because he smiled on stage.

what if one day she gets tired of this.

what if one day she looks at all the waiting, all the secrecy, all the moments he misses, and decides it’s too much.

his foot landed half a beat late.

“cut.”

music stopped.

silence crashed into the room.

jake blinked, breath hitching. everyone was looking at him.

the choreographer frowned slightly. “you’ve been somewhere else all day.”

jake bowed his head quickly. “sorry.”

“take five.”

the others peeled off toward the water station, murmuring to each other. jake stayed where he was, hands braced on his knees, trying to catch his breath and his thoughts at the same time.

he hated this.

hated when his head got loud enough to leak into the one thing he’d always been sure about.

dancing had always made sense. music had always made sense.

you had become the other thing that made sense. and lately it felt like the world kept trying to make him believe he couldn’t keep both.

a bottle of water appeared in front of him.

he looked up.

Sunghoon stood there, brows slightly raised.

“you look like you’re about to combust.”

jake let out a tired breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “thanks.”

“i’m serious.”

jake took the bottle. “just tired.”

sunghoon gave him a look that said he was not buying that for a second.

“is this about her?”

jake stared at the floor. that was answer enough.

sunghoon sighed and leaned against the mirror beside him. “you know, for someone who’s supposed to be good at expressing emotions on stage, you suck at doing it in real life.”

jake huffed. “you all are way too involved in my life.”

“because you pace around the dorm at three in the morning like a divorced father.”

that got a real laugh out of him. sunghoon’s expression softened.

“talk to me.”

jake twisted the bottle cap until it clicked.

“i just…” he exhaled sharply. “i keep thinking about the future.”

“dangerous.”

“seriously.”

sunghoon waited.

jake rubbed a hand over his face.

“what if i wake up in five years and realize i gave everything to this dream and she’s gone because i wasn’t there enough?”

sunghoon was quiet for a second.

“and what if,” he said finally, “you wake up in five years and realize you spent all that time being scared instead of actually loving her properly?”

jake’s throat tightened.

sunghoon continued.

“you’re acting like losing her is inevitable. like heartbreak is some deadline you’re trying to beat.”

he nudged jake lightly with his shoulder.

“you know what’s actually going to ruin things?”

jake looked over.

“if you keep deciding for her what she can handle.”

the words landed hard.

because deep down, jake knew.

you had never once asked him to choose.

you had never once made him feel guilty for his dream.

every time he apologized for missing dinner, for calling too late, for being exhausted and distracted, you’d just smile and tell him to come over when he could.

you made room for him in your life without asking him to shrink.

and still, fear sat in him like a splinter.

sunghoon straightened.

“go home tonight.”

jake blinked. “what?”

“after practice.”

“we have schedules.”

“after schedules.”

sunghoon deadpanned. “go see your girl before you lose your mind and forget the bridge section again.”

jake rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“thanks.”

sunghoon shrugged. “just stop dancing like you’re in a breakup montage.”

it was almost one in the morning when jake finally unlocked your apartment door.

the place was dim except for the warm glow of your bedside lamp spilling into the hallway.

he slipped off his shoes quietly, shoulders aching from practice, from schedules, from holding too much inside all day.

but the second he stepped into your bedroom, something in him loosened.

you were in bed on your side, one leg bent under the blanket, oversized sleep shirt slipping off one shoulder. your phone lit up your face in soft blue light while your thumb scrolled lazily.

you looked up at the sound of the door.

and smiled. there it was. home.

“hi.”

your voice was sleepy and soft and it nearly undid him on the spot.

“hey.”

you set your phone down. “you’re late.”

“sorry.”

“mhm.” you studied his face. “long day?”

jake didn’t answer.

he just crossed the room in three long steps and climbed into bed beside you.

then immediately wrapped himself around you.

you let out a surprised laugh as he buried himself against your side, arms locking around your waist like he’d been starved for this exact moment. his face tucked into your neck, breath warm against your skin.

“jake.”

he only made a low hum.

“hello to you too.”

another hum. tighter this time.

you smiled softly, fingers already finding his hair.

his curls were damp from practice, soft between your fingers. you scratched lightly at his scalp and felt him melt almost instantly.

his whole body went slack against you.

“rough day?” you asked again, quieter now.

he nodded against your neck.

the motion tickled. you smiled and kissed the top of his head.

“want to talk about it?”

for a while, he just stayed there.

breathing you in.

your shampoo. your lotion. the familiar warmth of your skin and sheets and the faint lavender detergent you always used.

all the things he’d missed without even realizing it.

your fingers moved slowly through his hair, soothing, patient. never pushing.

it made his chest ache.

because you were always like this.

soft where the world was sharp.

gentle where he was hard on himself.

his voice came out muffled. “i had a bad practice.”

you tilted your head slightly. “bad how?”

“couldn’t focus.”

“because you were tired?”

he shook his head.

“because i was thinking.”

“dangerous.”

despite everything, he smiled against your skin.

“sunghoon said the same thing.”

you laughed quietly.

“wise man.”

he finally lifted his head enough to look at you.

your hair was messy from laying down, eyes a little sleepy, lips pink and familiar and devastating.

he didn’t know how to explain that this exact sight was part of the problem.

how terrifying it was to love something this much.

“what were you thinking about?” you asked.

jake stared at you for a second too long.

then said it. “us.”

your expression softened.

“what about us?”

he swallowed.

the words had sat inside him for months, sharp and ugly and heavy. but here, with your hand in his hair and your leg tangled with his under the blanket, they felt less impossible.

still terrifying.

“sometimes i’m scared i’m going to lose you.”

you blinked. “what?”

his eyes dropped. “because of this life.”

you went still beneath him. “jake…”

“i know it sounds stupid.”

“it doesn’t.”

he looked back at you.

“i love what i do. more than anything. performing, touring, making music. it’s everything i’ve worked for.”

“but then there’s you.”

you brushed your thumb over his cheek.

“and that’s a problem?”

“because i love you too,” he said helplessly. “so much that sometimes it scares me.”

your breath caught.

he laughed softly, bitterly.

“there are days i miss so much. dates, dinners, random nights like this. i’m always tired or gone or distracted and you never complain, and somehow that makes me feel worse.”

“jake.”

“i don’t want to wake up one day and realize i made you lonely while i was chasing something else.” his voice cracked.

“i don’t want to have to choose between you and my dream.”

the room went quiet. not tense. just still.

the kind of stillness that makes every heartbeat feel louder.

your hand cupped his face fully now. “baby.”

the word alone nearly broke him.

“look at me.”

he did.

there was no anger in your face. no disappointment. just so much softness it hurt.

“you listen to me very carefully.”

jake almost smiled at your tone.

“okay.”

“i have never once asked you to choose.”

“i know.”

“and i never will.”

his lashes fluttered.

you shifted, guiding him until he was half over you, his weight familiar and warm. close enough that your noses brushed.

“you being an idol is not something i tolerate,” you whispered. “it’s part of you. i love that part too.”

jake stared at you.

“even when it means i’m gone all the time?”

“yes.”

you kissed his forehead. “even when you’re tired and moody.”

his nose scrunched. “i’m not moody.”

you kissed the bridge of his nose. “you are incredibly moody.”

“rude.”

you smiled and kissed one cheek.

“even when you overthink.”

then the other.

“even when you shut down.”

his jaw.

“even when you’re scared.”

each kiss was soft and deliberate. like stitching something frayed back together.

jake’s breathing changed. slower. deeper.

his eyes slipped shut for a second as your lips brushed the corner of his mouth.

“and especially,” you murmured there, “when you forget how loved you are.”

something inside him gave.

his hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb brushing your skin.

“you do this thing,” he said softly.

“what thing?”

“make me feel stupid for ever doubting us.”

you smiled. “good.”

he laughed, breathless. “idiot.”

“your idiot.”

“yeah,” he said, eyes dropping to your mouth. “mine.”

the word sent heat through you.

you kissed him before he could think too hard again.

soft at first. just lips brushing. a smile shared between breaths.

jake made a small sound low in his throat and kissed you back instantly, like he’d been waiting all day to let himself have this.

your fingers slid deeper into his hair, scratching lightly, and his whole body shivered.

“god,” he whispered against your lips.

you smiled. “sensitive?”

“only for you.”

“you’re so corny.”

“shut up.” he kissed you again to prove his point.

this one deeper. hungrier.

not rushed, but fuller somehow. months of hidden moments and missed hours poured into the space between your mouths.

his hand slid from your neck to your waist under your shirt, palm warm against bare skin.

you inhaled sharply.

jake paused instantly, forehead touching yours.

“okay?” the question was immediate. gentle.

you smiled, brushing your nose against his. “more than okay.”

that was all he needed. he kissed you again like relief.

like finally exhaling after holding too much in for too long.

his lips were warm and insistent, tilting your face just right while his fingers spread over your waist, thumb tracing small circles that made your stomach flutter.

you let out the tiniest breath against his mouth and he smiled into the kiss.

“there she is.”

you opened one eye. “don’t get cocky.”

“too late.”

you shoved lightly at his shoulder and he laughed, the sound low and beautiful.

then you pulled him back down by the collar.

“less talking.”

his grin widened. “yes ma’am.”

“don’t call me that.”

“why? you like bossing me around.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

“ just kiss me, sim.”

his eyebrows lifted. “wow. using government nicknames now?”

“kiss me before i change my mind.”

“impossible. you love me too much.” he obeyed gladly.

this time the kiss turned heated quickly. not messy. not overwhelming.

just deep enough to make the room feel smaller.

your leg slid between his and jake made a soft noise that had you laughing into his mouth.

“stop laughing at me.”

“you’re cute.”

“i’m trying to be sexy.”

“well, you failed.”

he gasped dramatically and dropped his face into your neck.

“cruel.”

you giggled, wrapping your arms around him. “you are sexy, don’t worry ‘bout it.”

he lifted his head suspiciously. “that sounded like pity.”

“jake.”

“hm?”

you brushed your lips over his once, teasing.

“shut up.”

he blinked.

then broke into the brightest smile you’d seen all week.

“god, you’re beautiful.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet.” he kissed under your jaw, making you inhale sharply. “you keep me around.”

his mouth lingered there, softer now. slower.

you carded your fingers through his curls again and he all but melted into you.

“love when you do that,” he murmured.

“play with your hair?”

“yeah.”

“ you’re clingy.”

“for you? always.”

you smiled and tugged lightly at the ends.

he groaned dramatically.

“don’t make that face.”

“what face?”

“that one.”

“i can’t help being handsome.”

you snorted.

“your ego’s back. guess i fixed you.”

jake looked up at you then, properly. all teasing gone.

just affection so open it made your chest ache.

“you really do.”

your smile softened. “fix you?”

“ground me.” his thumb stroked your cheek “when everything gets loud, i come here and it goes quiet.”

you blinked fast. “that’s disgustingly sweet.”

“learned from the best.”

you kissed him again because there was nothing else to do with the amount of feeling swelling in your chest.

this kiss was slower. less desperate. more full.

the kind that lingered until both of you were smiling into it.

jake tucked himself impossibly closer, practically folding into you until his head was on your chest and one arm draped across your waist.

completely attached.

you laughed softly. “comfortable?”

“perfect.”

“you’re crushing me.”

“worth it.”

you threaded your fingers through his hair again.

“dramatic.”

“sleepy.”

“that too. you know me so well.” his voice was already going warm and drowsy. “you know what the worst part is?”

“what?”

“i spent all day spiraling just to come here and realize all i needed was this.”

you smiled down at him.

“me in your old shirt while doomscrolling?”

“exactly.”

“your standards are low.”

“my standards are you.”

you groaned. “that was terrible.”

“you loved it.”

“a little.”

he grinned against your skin. “thought so.”

you kissed the top of his head.

“you don’t have to choose, you know.”

his breathing slowed.

“i know.”

“you get to have your dream.”

another kiss to his temple. “and me.”

his arms tightened around you. “promise?”

your heart squeezed. “always.”

jake tilted his head up just enough to look at you.

sleepy. soft. lashes low.

“kiss me again.”

you smiled. “needy.”

“your fault.”

“how?”

“you made me obsessed with you.”

you laughed under your breath and leaned down.

the kiss was soft and smiling and unhurried.

the kind that tasted like safety.

when you pulled away, he chased you for one more peck, making you laugh.

“greedy.”

“for you? yeah.”

you shook your head fondly and tucked him closer.

outside, the city kept moving. cars passed. lights blinked. schedules waited.

tomorrow would come with alarms and rehearsals and cameras and all the noise that came with loving someone whose life belonged partly to the world.

but tonight was yours. just this room. these sheets. your fingers in his hair. his heartbeat under your palm. and jake, finally quiet, finally warm, finally certain.

not because life was simple.

not because fear was gone.

[softblaqn]

MAYBE I’TS THE FEELINGS WE LOST ON THE WAY - s.jy

masterlist

sim jake x f!reader - angst - wc: 1k

he notices it in the quiet.

not when you’re laughing with other people, not when you’re busy or distracted or rushing through your day—but in the still moments. the ones that used to feel the safest.

that’s where it feels wrong.

you’re sitting beside him, close enough that your shoulders touch, but somehow it feels like there’s distance anyway. like there’s something invisible between you now. close doesn’t feel the same way it used to.

he tells himself it’s nothing.

you’re just tired. you’ve been busy lately. anyone would be a little off.

so he leans into you a little more, presses a soft kiss against your cheek.

you smile. but it’s delayed. just enough for him to notice.

he starts collecting moments without meaning to.

your hand slipping out of his first. your replies coming slower, shorter. the way your kisses don’t linger anymore.

he overthinks it at night.

lying awake, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.

you’re just tired.

you’re just busy.

he repeats it enough times that it almost sounds true.

almost.

when he kisses you again, he pays attention this time. really pays attention.

and that’s when it hits him.

you kiss him back—but it’s absent. automatic. like muscle memory instead of feeling.

his chest tightens.

he pulls back just slightly, searching your face.

“you okay?” you nod immediately. too quickly.

“yeah. why wouldn’t i be?”

he hesitates.

because he doesn’t know how to explain something that doesn’t have proof. something that only exists in the way things feel.

because if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t become real.

so he just shakes his head. “no reason.” and he lets it go.

but it doesn’t go away. it gets worse.

he starts noticing the way your eyes don’t soften when you look at him anymore. the way your attention drifts, even when he’s right in front of you.

and still—he tries to hold everything together.

he jokes more. touches you more. stays close.

like if he just loves you a little harder, it’ll come back.

it doesn’t.

so quiet he almost misses it. the words don’t register at first. they just hang there, suspended between you.

he blinks, like he misheard. “what?”

you look at him, and there’s something in your eyes he’s never seen before. distance.

“jake. i just- don’t feel the same anymore.”, but your words were gentle, not wanting to make this any harder.

his first reaction is immediate. denial.

“no,” he says, shaking his head, stepping closer. “no, we’re just going through something. that’s all. it happens. i has before.”

his voice is too quick, too certain. like if he says it fast enough, it’ll overwrite what you just said.

“we’ll be fine,” he adds. “we always are.”

you don’t respond right away. and that silence feels heavier than anything.

he searches your face desperately, like he can find the version of you that used to look at him differently. a look filled with love that is no longer present.

ike maybe it’s still there, just hidden. but it’s not.

and when he realizes that, something in him cracks.

“did i do something?” his voice is softer now. unsteady.

“just tell me. i can fix it.” you shake your head gently. “you didn’t do anything.”

that’s the worst answer you could’ve given.

because if he did something, he could change it. undo it. try again. but this? this means there’s nothing to fight.

he laughs weakly, running a hand through his hair.

“that doesn’t make sense,” he murmurs. “feelings don’t just… fade.”

but even as he says it, he knows. they do.

he’s just never wanted to believe it before.

you step closer then, like you want to soften the blow. and that’s when he breaks.

he pulls you into a hug before you can say anything else. tight. desperate.

like if he holds you close enough, he can force everything back into place. you freeze for just a second—just a second—but he feels it.

and then you hug him back.but it’s not the same.it’s not warm in the way it used to be. not grounding. not home. it feels like goodbye.

his hands grip your back a little tighter. “no,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “we’re okay. we’re okay.” his voice cracks on the last word.

he presses his face into your shoulder, breathing you in like he’s trying to memorize something he’s already losing. “please,” he murmurs. “we can fix this.”

you don’t say anything. you just hold him. and that silence tells him everything.

when he finally pulls back, his eyes search yours one last time. like he’s hoping—still hoping—that he missed something.

that there’s still something left. but there isn’t. just softness. and guilt. and distance. not love. not anymore.

“i’m sorry,” you whisper. and he nods, even though he doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to.

you step away slowly. and he lets you.

because he doesn’t know how to stop you without breaking whatever dignity he has left.

after you leave, the room feels too quiet. too empty. he stands there for a long time, unmoving.

trying to make sense of something that doesn’t make sense. you’re just tired. you’re just busy.

the thoughts come back automatically. but they sound hollow now. useless. because deep down, he knows the truth. he knew it the moment your kisses felt different. he just chose not to believe it.—and now it’s too late.

first post yayayayayay