Jade❤️

Welcome!🦋🦋

🦋 A little about me:my name is Jade (it’s actually my middle name but I like it more than my first name)

🦋 Im 21

🦋 Im latina and black

🦋 Im a multistan since 2021 (I Stan bts,stray kids,enhypen and ateez and p1 harmony,Cortis)

🦋 My ult group is enhypen

🦋My bias list: yoongi,jungkook,Felix,hyunjin and han,jungwon,niki and heeseung,yeosang,hongjoong and wooyoung and yunho and jiung and keeho

🦋Kpop related I write scenarios,soft thoughts and hard thoughts and sometimes fanfics if I can but it’s hard ngl, fake texts(in the future) and nsfw

🦋I also yap alot about whatever I feel needs to be said

🦋I won’t write anything including incest,minors or anything including SA

🦋If you have any recommendations or requests just dm me or send it in my ask box

🦋Also most of my fan fics are x black reader and ambw but I will make some for people who aren’t of color just ask

~ Black reader x Ni-Ki

~ warnings: cheating,swearing and the n word

You know he’s cheating. You don’t need proof your intuition’s been too loud to ignore. One night, he stumbles in late again, barely looks at you, drops a half-assed “I’m tired,” and turns away, he comes home late past 12 damn near every night and he always comes up with an excuse to not touch you and to run from confrontation but you’re done playing games with him.

The clock hits 2:47AM. You’ve been staring at it so long your eyes hurt.

The key in the door hits like a jump scare.

Riki walks in, hoodie half-zipped, hair messy in a way you know isn’t from dance practice. He doesn’t even look at you when he mumbles, “I’m home.”

Your jaw clenches.

Your whole body screams liar.

“Where were you?” you ask. Calm. Too calm.

“Practice ran late,” he says, brushing past you.

That’s when you smell it. A soft, floral perfume that isn’t yours.

Your heartbeat beats faster by the second. “Riki,” you say, voice shaking, “look at me.”

He doesn’t.

He sits on the couch instead, scrolling, pretending everything’s normal.

That’s when inside you rips.

The plate in your hand hits the wall before you even realize you threw it. It shatters like a gunshot.

Riki jumps, eyes flying to you. “What the hell—?!”

“Oh NOW you wanna look at me?” you scream, grabbing another dish.

“Y/N, stop—”

“STOP? YOU WANT ME TO STOP? HOW ABOUT YOU STOP FUCKIN’ LYING TO ME!”

Another plate flies.

He flinches.

“You think I’m stupid?” You’re crying now, stepping toward him, hitting his chest with your fists. “You come home late every night, you won’t touch me, you won’t even look at me and then you come home smelling like some other bitch?!, and you wanna tell me I’m crazy? REALLY?”

“Y/N…” his voice cracks.

“WHO IS SHE, RIKI?!”

He doesn’t say anything.

And the silence is everything you needed to know.

Riki’s shoulders tense, eyes glued to the floor. And that’s it. That’s all you need. No denial. No excuses. Not even a soft “baby, it’s not what you think.”

He’s guilty, and he’s too much of a coward to even dress it up.

Your laugh comes out almost manic. “Oh my god,” you whisper, wiping your tears with your shaking hand. “You really did it.”

“Y/N, please—”

“No. No, don’t ‘please’ me now.” You point at him with trembling fingers. “Every time I said you was acting weird? That something was off? That I didn’t feel like you was mine anymore? You made me feel delusional as hell.”

Riki finally looks up. His eyes are red like he’s been crying somewhere else, for someone else, before even coming home.

That sends a fresh burst of rage through you.

“You couldn’t even give me the fuckin’ respect to LIE properly,” you spit, grabbing another plate off the counter. “You cheated and came home smelling like her. Like I wasn’t gon’ notice.”

He stands now, hands up but not coming closer. “Y/N, stop throwing things—”

You chuck the plate so hard it cracks the cabinet door. “NO FUCK YOU!”

He flinches again.

“Say something!” you scream. “SAY IT! SAY YOU CHEATED!”

His mouth opens.

But nothing comes out.

You shove him, palms hitting his chest. Hard. Over and over. “Say it, Riki! Stop looking at me like— like I’m some problem you’re scared of! You weren’t scared when you were out fucking another bitch, right?”

“Y/N, I—” His voice breaks. “I messed up.”

You freeze.

Just a second.

Just long enough for those three words to slice through you.

“I messed up.”

Not a denial.

Not even a half-lie.

It’s real now. Too real.

Your knees go weak but anger catches you before grief can. “How many times?” you whisper, but your whisper carries more danger than all your yelling. “Was it one time? Was it multiple? Was it someone you know? Someone who knows about us?”

He looks away.

“Oh my god,” you whisper again. “It’s someone you KNOW.”

Riki’s voice is tiny. “It wasn’t supposed to happen—”

“DON’T,” you snap, stepping closer, “don’t give me that bullshit.”

He’s crying now, silent, embarrassed, shaking.

The tears piss you off even more.

“Oh, YOU’RE crying? Fuck is you crying for?” you yell. “You’re crying like I didn’t spend WEEKS thinking I was the problem. Thinking I was unlovable. Thinking you were bored with me.”

You shove him again and he lets you cuz he knows he’s wrong.

“You made me feel like I was crazy,” you choke out. “And the whole time? You really was cheating.”

“Y/N… I’m—”

“No. Do not say you’re sorry unless you mean it. Or unless you’re ready to tell the truth. All of it.”

He squeezes his eyes shut. “It happened last month. And then again a few nights ago.”

Your breath stops.

Your heart stops.

Everything in you just stops.

When you move again, it’s instinct — pure heartbreak dressed in rage.

You grab the entire stack of plates and throw them to the floor. They explode like fireworks, pieces skittering across the tile.

Riki jumps back, but he doesn’t leave. He just watches you break everything because he knows he caused this.

“I hate you,” you whisper, clutching the counter so hard. “I hate what you did to me. I hate that I still love you. I hate that you made me feel like I wasn’t enough.”

Riki steps forward slowly, voice barely there. “Please… don’t say that.”

You look up at him, tears streaming, chest heaving. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? Give me one reason.”

He’s destroyed — mascara from your earlier crying smudged on his hoodie, red eyes, trembling hands.

“Because I love you,” he whispers.

Your laugh is hollow. “You love me?! Nigga No you don’t. Not the way I love you. If you did, you wouldn’t have fucked her.”

He breaks down fully. Shoulders shaking, breath hitching, tears falling messy and fast. He reaches toward you, but you step back.

“Don’t,” you whisper. “You don’t get to hold me. You don’t get comfort.”

“Then what do I do?” he chokes out. “Tell me. Tell me how to fix this.”

“You don’t” you say, voice steady for the first time. “You live with it, ain’t no fixing this.”

He crumples at your words. literally sinks down to the floor, hand over his mouth, crying harder than you’ve ever seen.

And you stand there, surrounded by shattered dishes, shattered trust, and a shattered heart. breathing like someone learning how to breathe again.

Finally you turn toward the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” Riki asks, panicked.

“Away from you.”

Perfectly wrong for me

Story in heeseung’s pov

Synopsis heeseung loves y/n so much, flaws and all but she’s toxic and hurts him so much and makes him cry but he knows that she doesn’t mean it apart of him is tired of it but the rest of him can’t find it in his heart to leave her

it’s currently 3:20 am and y/n still isn’t home, she told heeseung that she was going out with friends and he didn’t mind but now… now his mind is full of thoughts he can’t quite get rid of. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed bouncing his leg, something he did when he was nervous or overwhelmed.

Heeseung’s pov: the house was silent except for the sound of the fridge. My phone sat in the palm of my hand with her contact open but no messages or calls from her I’ve sent her over 20 texts and I called her 4 times and still no answer, the overthinking became louder “where is she?” “Why isn’t she responding” “she’s sleeping with someone else” were the only things i could hear in my mind. And it hurts, I wanted to believe her when she said she loved me. I wanted to believe that when she swore she’d come straight home after going out with her friends, she meant it. But the pit in my stomach told me the truth I was too weak to face… she didn’t care the way I did.

Suddenly the jingle of keys snapped me out of my thoughts. The door creaked open, and there she was.

Y/N stumbled inside, laughter dripping off her lips, her heels clicking clumsily against the hardwood floor. Her hair was messy, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, and the smell of liquor wrapped around her like a perfume that wasn’t meant for me. She looked at me with a lazy smile, like she hadn’t just left me waiting, drowning in my own thoughts.

“You’re still up?” she slurred, dropping her purse carelessly to the floor.

“Still up?” My voice cracked with bitterness I couldn’t hide. “It’s the middle of the fucking night, Y/N. Do you even realize how long I’ve been sitting here? Wondering if you were okay? Wondering if you even remembered I existed?”

She rolled her eyes, brushing past me toward the bedroom. “You’re so dramatic, Heeseung. I went out for drinks, it’s not like I went out to fuck another guy.”

My face heats up. “Who knows you probably were” I say under my breath. “And don’t you dare tell me to calm down as if you running around all damn night isn’t a big deal because I’m certain if the roles were reversed you’d lose your shit!” I yell and she just smirks and it pisses me off

“Do you even care y/n?” I whispered, though my voice was sharp with anger. “Do you care that you break me every single time you walk out that door without looking back? Do you care that I sit here like an idiot, waiting for you to come home?”

She turned then, her expression hardening, and for a moment the sweetness in her drunken haze was gone. “Maybe I need someone who isn’t so damn clingy. Maybe I’m tired of being smothered.”

Her words hit me harder than any punch, and I felt my chest cave in. I should’ve walked away right then and there. I should’ve let her crash on the bed and slept on the couch, but instead, I moved toward her.

“You don’t mean that,” I said hoarsely, gripping her wrist before she could disappear down the hall. “Tell me you don’t mean that, Y/N please tell me you don’t mean it” I plead with tears threatening to fall from my eyes.

Her lips parted, ready to fire back another cruel remark, but the space between us burned too hot. My anger, her recklessness, the way we tore each other down only to crawl back to each other it all collided in that moment.

Her eyes locked on mine, glossy from alcohol but dark with something else, something dangerous. And when I kissed her, it wasn’t gentle. It was a war, mouths clashing, teeth scraping, her nails dragging down my neck like she wanted to hurt me just as much as she wanted to have me.

I hated her. I loved her. I needed her.

We stumbled into the bedroom, clothes falling carelessly to the floor, our argument forgotten but not forgiven

I shoved her down into the mattress, my weight pinning her there, and for a second her drunk laughter echoed in my ears, mocking me. My blood boiled. I kissed her hard, biting down on her bottom lip until she gasped, and I swallowed the sound like it belonged to me.

Her hands pushed at my chest like she wanted to fight me off, but then her nails raked down my skin instead, dragging a groan out of me. Every scratch felt like fire, like she wanted to punish me for caring too much.

“You think you can just disappear on me?” I growled, yanking her wrists above her head, my grip tight. “Come home drunk, smelling like someone else’s cologne, and still expect me to crawl back into your arms?”

Her lips curled into that wicked smirk, even with her breath ragged. “You always do, don’t you?” she whispered, voice taunting, legs tightening around my waist.

That broke me.

I ripped her clothes off, leaving her bare beneath me, her body trembling. My mouth trailed down her neck, biting hard enough to leave marks, each one a warning, a desperate claim. She writhed beneath me, moaning, gasping, pulling at my hair like she couldn’t decide if she wanted me closer or wanted me gone.

When I finally thrust into her, it wasn’t gentle. It was rough, punishing, fueled by hours of anger and fear and love I couldn’t put anywhere else. She cried out, arching into me, meeting every thrust with the same reckless hunger.

Our lips clashed again, messy, wet, and desperate, her tongue tangling with mine as if we were trying to devour each other.

“I hate you,” she panted against my mouth, nails clawing at my shoulders so deep I knew I’d bleed.

“That’s fine,” I groaned, slamming into her, faster, deeper, the bed creaking under the weight of our chaos. “Hate me while you scream my name.”

Her moans filled the room, high-pitched, raw, and every sound only pushed me further, made me lose myself in her. The anger blurred into desperation, every rough thrust softening just slightly when her eyes met mine, glossy, broken, but still burning for me.

My forehead dropped against hers, sweat dripping down my temple as I slowed, my grip loosening on her wrists. She wrapped her arms around me then, pulling me closer, whispering my name like a prayer instead of a curse.

“I can’t stop loving you,” I admitted hoarsely, voice breaking as I moved inside her, gentler now, but just as consuming. “Even when you’re destroying me, I can’t—fuck—I can’t let you go.”

Her lips trembled, tears slipping down her cheeks as her body shook against mine, and for once her words weren’t cruel. “Then don’t,” she whispered, clutching me tighter. “Don’t ever let me go.”

I kissed her again softer, desperate, the kind of kiss that felt like both a surrender and a promise. And when we came together, it wasn’t just lust. It was every argument, every scar, every broken piece of us spilling out, tying us back together in a way that felt like drowning.

And I let it happen. Because even when she hurts me, I’d always belong to her.

Of course!!

You’d never admit it but a lot of the time the mirror felt like an enemy. The reflection staring back at you always looks so… small, too flat,too fragile. And not to mention social media, social media didn’t make it any better every scroll you found yourself comparing yourself to other women who were curvier than you. You compared yourself to them more than you’d like to admit but you couldn’t help it.

You tug at your oversized hoodie in hopes of masking your insecurities.

You know it’s silly, but when you’re around Jake, the insecurity claws deeper. He’s so confident, so effortlessly charming, and you can’t shake the thought that he deserves someone more… womanly.

Tonight is no different. He’s sprawled on your couch, phone in hand, legs long and careless. You sit at the opposite end, pretending to scroll through your own feed, though your mind is too loud to focus.

He notices. He always does.

“You’re quiet tonight.” He says softly but clearly concerned

You force a hum, not trusting your voice.

He sets his phone down, tilting his head to study you. His gaze lingers a little too long, and you squirm, tugging your hoodie closer again.

“Y/N…” His voice softens. “What’s going on in your head?”

You shake your head. “Nothing.”

But the word cracks as it leaves your throat. He moves closer, sitting beside you now, and it’s too much, his warmth, his presence, the way he looks at you like you matter more than air.

The truth slips out before you can stop it.

“I just— I don’t feel… enough. For you. For anyone.”

His brows knit, but not in anger but in concern so deep it nearly undoes you.

“Not enough?” He repeats it slowly, like the words physically hurt him. His hand hovers before resting lightly on your thigh. “Baby, where’s this coming from?”

You look down at yourself, words tumbling out raw. “I’m… flat. Too skinny. Everyone else looks so much better. More curves, more— just more. And then there’s me.”

You fall silent for a moment, you wish you’d swallowed the confession. But then his hand slips under your chin, gently lifting your face until your eyes meet his.

There’s no teasing, no smirk, just pure sincerity.

“Do you really think I care about that?”

Your throat tightens. You try to look away, but he doesn’t let you.

“Listen to me. I love this body.” His thumb traces your jaw, slow, reverent. “I love the way you fit against me. I love that when I hug you, I can wrap you up completely. I love that you’re mine not because of curves or size, but because you’re you.”

Your chest aches, but in a different way now it’s something warm fighting the cold voices in your head.

He presses his forehead against yours, whispering so close you can feel every word.

“You don’t need to change. You’re already more than enough for me.”

The tears come before you can stop them, but he doesn’t flinch. He pulls you into his arms, tucking you against his chest, holding you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever had.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, the mirror in your mind isn’t so cruel. Not when you feel his heartbeat steady against your ear, reminding you that someone sees you as perfect exactly the way you are.

(I’m sorry I’m so late life has been….. well life anyway it’s my birthday!)

In a realm far from Earth’s reach, nestled between Heaven’s light and Hell’s fire, floated a fragile boundary known only to the few who dared to breach it. A place of silence. A place not meant to exist. Yet within it, two souls burned brighter than they ever did in their destined realms.

Heeseung was Heaven’s chosen one. A guardian angel sculpted from purity and warmth, with ivory wings dipped in stardust and eyes that held galaxies in bloom. He wandered through Heaven’s gardens, a quiet soul with a heart too curious for divinity. They called him the “Wanderer of Light” because he often strayed too far, too close to the edge. But it was in that wandering he found her.

Y/N was no ordinary demon. The daughter of the Devil himself, born from flame and crowned in sin, yet unlike the others of her bloodline, she danced in shadows not to destroy, but to escape. Her wings were not made of feathers, but of smoke that shimmered like oil in moonlight. Her eyes, a hypnotic hue of red and gold, burned not with hatred, but longing.

They met between realms. Heeseung had wandered again, flying past the veil of light where Heaven bled into the unknown. There, he saw her floating just beyond the glow, sitting atop a jagged rock, singing an ancient lullaby in a language long forgotten suddenly she looked up…

Their eyes met.

The air stilled.

He didn’t speak at first. Neither did she. But their silence felt like a conversation older than time. After that, Day after day, they returned to that edge, wordless at first, then in whispers, and soon in songs and laughter. Heeseung taught her the constellations; Y/N showed him the music hidden in fire. She’d tease him, calling him “Halo Boy.” He’d blush and call her “Hell’s Orchid.”

In their little twilight world, they bloomed.

But love in its purest form is often the most dangerous. And this love, an angel’s and a demon’s was blasphemy to both realms. Forbidden.

Still, they kissed in secret, touched like they were trying to memorize eternity. Heeseung would wrap his wings around her when she trembled from her father’s wrath. Y/N would leave tiny scorch marks on his skin, only to kiss them better, apologizing with tears in her eyes.

“I’d burn all of Heaven for you,” she whispered once.

“And I’d fall from grace just to hold your hand,” he replied.

But peace, as always, was borrowed time.

One night, the demons followed Y/N. The fires of Hell flickered with whispers and suspicion. Her softness was noticed. Her absences, questioned. And when they followed the trail of ash, they found her. in his arms, their foreheads touching, whispering sweet nothings between stars.

The Devil himself emerged from the depths, his fury shaking the realms. Y/N stood protectively in front of Heeseung, defiant even as fire licked her skin.

“You would betray your blood for this?” the Devil roared, voice splitting the sky.

“I never belonged to you,” she said, voice trembling but true. “And he… he makes me feel real.”

But that wasn’t enough, love wasn’t enough.

She was dragged back in chains, her screams echoing through the cracks of the realms. Heeseung tried to follow, but Heaven barred him. The gates shut, and his wings dimmed.

Days passed. Then weeks. Then… silence.

Until word reached him: she was to be executed by flame, her soul cast into eternal darkness.

Something in Heeseung broke.

He tore off his halo. Let his wings blacken. He no longer sang with the choirs or healed with his hands. He wandered not just physically now but spiritually. Like a ghost trapped in a body too bright for the grief it carried.

On the day of her execution, he flew.

Flew past the guardians. Past Heaven’s watchful eyes. Past the storms of judgment.

And when he arrived… it was too late.

She stood on a pillar of brimstone, her body trembling, but her chin lifted high. Her eyes found his in the crowd. And she smiled.

A soft, broken smile.

But then they set her ablaze.

Heeseung screamed—a sound not even God could ignore. The skies cracked. The stars dimmed. He flew to her ashes, clutching the charred remains, kissing them, crying out her name until his voice disappeared.

Then, in silence, he rose.

He carried her soulstone—the last piece of her the fire couldn’t take and pierced it into his own heart. A final act of defiance. Of devotion. Of love.

The light fled from his eyes, and his body fell beside the scorched earth where she once stood.

Heeseung died smiling.

Because when he closed his eyes… she was there.

Wings of smoke and ash. Eyes soft as dusk. A hand reaching out.

“You found me,” she whispered, tears spilling.

“I never stopped looking,” he said.

And in the quiet afterlife a place neither Heaven nor Hell could reach they danced among the stars, forever entwined.

Two souls, cursed by fate.

But stuck with each other.

The hot water streams down your body, fogging up the glass as you run your fingers through your hair. The day was long. Too long. Jake had been rehearsing, barely able to text you more than a “miss you” here and there. You didn’t even expect him to make it home before midnight.

But then the bathroom door creaks open.

You don’t turn around. You know who it is by the way the air shifts.

“Couldn’t wait until morning?” you tease, voice already breathy, echoing against the tile.

Jake hums behind you, low and gravelly. “I needed you. Now.”

Before you can turn around, his hands find your waist, warm even through the steam, pulling you back against his chest. His skin is slick from the water, muscles flexing under your fingers as you grab onto his arms. He’s already hard, pressed against your ass like he’s been dreaming about this all day.

“You always smell so good in the shower,” he murmurs against your shoulder, kissing the droplets sliding down your skin. “And the way the water clings to you…” He trails off, biting gently just below your ear. “Drives me crazy.”

Your head tilts back, letting him suck on your neck as one hand slides between your thighs. His fingers are slow at first, teasing, just barely grazing your folds. You whimper, pressing against him.

“Need me to touch you here?” he whispers, middle finger circling your clit. “Been thinking about it all day.”

His words alone make your knees weak.

You nod desperately, and Jake obliges, rubbing slow, tight circles while his other hand cups your breast, thumbing your nipple as the water rolls down your body. He knows your body like it’s his own. Every twitch. Every gasp. Every sweet spot.

When he finally slips a finger inside, you moan loudly and his lips twist into that smug little smirk you know too well.

“so wet already,” he teases.

You reach back and grab his hip, trying to steady yourself, but he’s relentless. Two fingers now, pumping in and out, curling just right while his thumb stays on your clit. The water muffles your moans, but he hears them. He feels them.

“You gonna cum for me like this?” he pants, kissing your shoulder between every word. “Just from my fingers?”

“I-I can’t—” you cry out, body jerking as your orgasm crashes over you, legs trembling.

Jake lets you ride it out, holding you upright with one arm around your waist as he pulls his fingers out slowly, deliberately.

“Good girl,” he groans. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

He turns you around pressing you against the cold wall. You barely have time to blink before he lifts your leg and lines himself up, sliding into you in one smooth, thrust.

“F-fuck, Jake—” you cry, head falling forward against his shoulder.

“You feel so good,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “Always so fucking tight.”

He sets a pace that’s deep and slow at first. But the sound of your moans, the water, the heat it pushes him to lose control.

His thrusts become harder, rougher, skin slapping against skin, the wet sounds of sex mixing with the rush of the shower.

Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the sting.

“You’re mine,” he growls, biting your lip between kisses. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasp. “Only yours.”

“That’s right.” He hisses through clenched teeth as he feels you tighten around him. “You gonna cum for me again, baby?”

You nod, eyes wide and glossy, and he fucks you through it, making you fall apart on his cock, trembling under the hot water. He holds you as you shake, kissing your temple, your lips, your throat.

And when he finally finishes, he buries himself deep with a low groan, holding you close as he pulses inside you.

The water’s still running, but you don’t move.

His forehead rests against yours. His lips brush your cheek.

“You know I love you, right?” he whispers.

You smile weakly. “Mhm”